August 2025: Palo Alto, Jiu Jitsu, and Other Tidbits

quitting social media, playing in Tahoe, investing for meaning, and alt education

It’s been a couple weeks since I soft quit social media. I’d already deleted the apps from my phone, but the final step was signing out of Instagram and X on my laptop. Now when the impulse hits, I land on the login screen. In that split second, I realize I’m not actually interested, I’m just bored. I don’t care to see those stories, tweets, or dumb ads.

Anecdotally, I feel better with zero FOMO. Maybe it’s because I’m in a season of contraction, trying to preserve energy and focus on fewer things. Or maybe the platforms have deteriorated so much, from friends-first to content sludge that my tolerance finally broke.

In lieu of not knowing if I’ll ever post on Instagram again, I want to make this month’s blog more fun and friendly. Fun isn’t always the obvious strategy, but it’s an interesting way to play with form and constraints. It comes up in coaching too. A client hits a fork in the road: grind it out or quit. But sometimes, the better move is to make it more fun. That shift can be just as effective. Instead of optimizing for popularity or profit, go for flow.

So in that spirit, here’s this month’s brain dump:

I moved to Palo Alto!

We moved here about two months ago, right before my girlfriend started residency at Stanford. For someone who’s spent the past few years living nomadically, always keeping the question of “What’s the best place for me to live?” in the back of my mind, it’s been surprisingly easeful to not only move somewhere I’d never test-lived, but also didn’t even choose.

Over the years, I’ve lived in San Francisco, New York City, Lake Tahoe, and Oahu. Back when I was moving into a new sublet every month, the thought of living in Palo Alto never crossed my mind. I associated it with the tech industry and extreme wealth. That’s not wrong, but there’s definitely more here than just stereotypes.

The first few weeks were rough. I didn’t know anyone and didn’t really put myself out there. It was the first time in a while I actually felt lonely. Gradually things started to shift. With each new piece of furniture, our apartment evolved from bare-walled box to slightly more home-y. I started to meet people through friends and also by joining new communities.

When we were ranking residency match preferences, I said I wanted San Francisco. It felt like a real city. More of my friends lived there. Palo Alto felt slightly suboptimal for just me, but clearly the best choice for the two of us. On one recent evening, something shifted. I left SF after a day trip, just as the late afternoon fog and chilliness set in. When I stepped off the CalTrain in Palo Alto, the air was warmer, it was golden hour, and the sunlight was gently streaming into my eyes. It was quiet and calm. Maybe it’s post-rationalization, a trick of the mind to make peace with where I’ve landed. But if so, it just shows how powerful our thoughts can be.

Two months in, and our apartment is still not completely furnished—and that’s totally fine. There’s still big pieces moving in my life, but I feel rooted here. This place already feels like home.

Getting into Jiu Jitsu

I’ve been training jiu jitsu for a few weeks now. I’d wanted to try it for years but kept putting it off. It never felt easy or straightforward to get into. That changed when I moved to Palo Alto and a new gym opened up across the street. Given how suburban and quiet this neighborhood is, it felt like a sign that I had to try.

The first session started off chill and then crescendoed into intense. By the end, my partner and I were full-on trying to choke each other out. I work out regularly, but it had been a long time since I’ve been fully drenched in sweat. Having an opponent is way more demanding than hitting sets of ten on a weight machine.

The next morning, I woke up feeling like I had gotten hit by a truck—but with a crystal clear mind. No tension, anxiety, or frustration. I’d originally wanted to try jiu jitsu for physical fitness, but the mental clarity was what convinced me to keep showing up. As a man and as a coach, I’m learning how vital it is to have healthy ways to express aggression and anger. This worked.

I’ve already noticed a few things. I’m relearning how to use my legs. Most of adult movement is walking, running, squatting. In jiu jitsu, I’m often on my back, using my legs as if they’re as dexterous as my arms, but way stronger. It’s weirdly familiar, like remembering something my body knew as a kid, but now in the context of trying to beat up another adult.

Jiu jitsu mimics the conditions I love in skiing and surfing. Your opponent shifts positions quickly, like a change in snow angle or wave speed. You can’t half-pay attention. It demands full presence. I’ve felt flow in deep work or good conversation, but with weightlifting, where I’m alone, wearing AirPods, checking my phone, it’s harder to access. Here, you leave your phone away. Someone’s trying to submit you and you have to pay attention.

It also fits with my broader health goal of improving my athleticism. A few years ago, I noticed the best skiers seemed more athletic than me, with greater flexibility, agility, endurance. Same with surfers. Jiu jitsu has that same emphasis on full-body control. Our warm-ups include cartwheels and somersaults. I can’t ski or surf every day, but I can walk across the street to jiu jitsu. For now, it’s become one of my main practices.

Playing in Lake Tahoe

I seem to go through cycles, periods of deep introspection followed by lighter, more playful stretches. Right now, I’m in the latter. Just playing, for the sake of it.

I recently took a two-day, one-night trip to Lake Tahoe. We crammed five of us into my car - less comfortable, but more fun. It reminded me of trips as a kid, when there was always something to talk about or look at.

The first day, we hiked a quiet trail with an epic view, snacked on a picnic blanket by the lake, and jumped in for a quick swim. For dinner, Geo brought marinated Korean short ribs in a cooler. We feasted: meat, kimchi, grilled mushrooms, a giant bowl of watermelon we picked up on the way. Afterward, we caught the sunset from a dock and played Skull King, a betting card game we all got so into that we set alarms for 7am just to squeeze in one more round before the next day’s activities.

On Sunday, we kayaked early while the lake was still calm, scouting for a rock or dock to jump off. We found one, covered in seagull poop. I jumped anyway. Then we swam and played Spikeball on the dry green grass by the beach. Probably one of the nicest textures for feet to be on.

I go to Tahoe a few times a year, and on the drive back I kept thinking about how easy it is to do things that usually seem reserved for rich people. Sure, it’d be nice to own a house or kayak, but those are just nice-to-haves. The real ingredients are the idea, the energy, the friends, and the willingness to make it happen. Of course money plays a role, but it’s rarely the main bottleneck to enjoying life and playing like a kid again.

Noticing what matters to me

With the move to Palo Alto and the shift from nomadic to rooted, I’m having new experiences that feel meaningful in a different way.

My girlfriend and I recently spent an afternoon with the 89-year-old woman we lived with for a month last year. We brought her flowers and snacks, she baked us cookies, and taught us how to play Farkle, a dice-based betting game. She still drives herself, does her own grocery shopping, and has a full calendar: book club on Tuesdays, cribbage on Fridays at the senior center. In a culture obsessed with youthful celebrities and ephemeral trends, time with elders always recalibrates me. I learn more than I expect, and it’s often more fun than I assume it’ll be.

Getting our couch turned into a surprisingly satisfying side quest. After weeks of indecision at Crate & Barrel, we almost bought a $3,000 green couch. Meanwhile, I spotted a different Crate & Barrel model on Facebook Marketplace for $1,000. It wasn’t symmetrical, so we passed, but then they dropped the price to $600. An hour later, we paid for it. I tried hauling it back solo and failed, then rented a U-Haul and lucked out because my friend Parker happened to be in town on a business trip. He helped me carry it up the stairs. That night, I cooked a feast for us to share. It felt like the good kind of trade: effort, coordination, and a meal with a friend at the end of it.

I’ve also been enjoying our new coffee table, bought from a family with a toddler who didn’t want to risk the glass. It has a clear top and storage underneath, so I can display photography books and magazines. I’ve been wondering why it feels so good to have. Maybe because it’s functional, expressive, and makes it easier to host. Before, there wasn’t even a surface for snacks or card games. It’s not just a table. It’s a sign that we’re settling in and doing it with intention.

On a recent Friday, I took a day trip to San Francisco. I met a friend building a startup for coffee, then had lunch with a former coaching client who’s now a friend, caught up with an online writing friend, and finally met someone from Twitter for the first time at Dolores Park. As we walked a couple laps around the park, he opened up about his startup struggles. The business was doing well, everything trending up and to the right, but he was thinking about leaving. As I listened, it became clear that the tension was with his cofounder.

The conversation turned into an impromptu coaching session. I guided and challenged him, helping him think through how to move forward in a way that was still ambitious, but also acknowledged his burnout. What mattered to me was that I was fully present, willing to coach with no agenda or financial incentive. I was just trying to help. Coaching started for me that way, with people reaching out organically. It’s good to see that even after building a business around it, I still feel like I’m doing it for the right reasons.

Riffing on Investing and Meaning

I’ve been wondering why alternative assets have gotten more popular over the years. It’s not just better access or looser regulations. People are bored, have money, and want to spend it in ways that feel good. In the digital age, having a sports car or diamond chain doesn’t carry the same weight it used to.

I think people are searching for ways to invest their money that feel meaningful. Especially if you don’t have a family yet, wealth can feel intangible when everything’s automated, from paycheck to Vanguard. Instead of finding fulfillment, a lot of people end up chasing entertainment: sports betting, Pokémon cards, meme coins, prediction markets. This is risky and empty.

The low-risk strategy of index funds is fine. But there’s something shallow and ephemeral in investing in volatile digital assets that are entertainment-first, meaning-second. If we focus on the smaller “fun” money, the better question is: what would be the most meaningful way to invest this?

I recently met someone who runs a crypto hedge fund who now reinvests his earnings into local restaurants. It’s his way of transforming low-meaning money into high-meaning money. He already loved these spots, had relationships with the owners, and now he’s financially tied to them too. When he goes out to eat, he catches up with the manager and knows he’s supporting something that matters to him.

Same for me with Dandelion Chocolate. I’m a tiny part-owner of this San Francisco chocolate company, and every holiday, it’s a no-brainer to buy gifts from them. I feel like I’m on the team. Plus, who doesn’t like nice chocolate?

The fact that people will spend thousands and endless hours researching Pokémon cards and meme coins suggests we’re starved for meaning. We need more pathways to connect money with belonging. One way is by enabling local businesses to raise funds from residents. Financial investment can deepen community, not just extract from it.

My version of dystopia looks like my first year in SF. The closest grocery store was Safeway, the coffee shop was Starbucks, and no one talked to their neighbors. Flip that, and utopia looks like a city full of local businesses, paying reasonable wages, supported by customers who might also be small investors.

What I’m imagining isn’t some Mafia or Yakuza-style ownership ruling with an iron fist. It’s a bunch of high-paid professionals in their late 20s to 40s, each chipping in a few thousand to have collective minority stakes in their favorite coffee shops, yoga studios, bookstores, and restaurants.

It’s counterintuitive: using money as a means to create flourishing communities.

(If you think idea has legs, hit me up)

Reimagining Education

I’ve been thinking about what kind of education I’d want for my future kids. I went to public school in Fairfax County, Virginia, which gave me a strong foundation. But I’m not convinced the default model is the most effective. Forcing 30 kids to sit still while one teacher lectures the same thing to everyone doesn’t make sense. Smart kids should be able to move faster. Struggling kids deserve more attention.

What I imagine is a mix of ambition and support, like the best parts of elite public schools, without the cutthroat intensity. And with the holistic values I’ve seen in kids raised in places like Hawaii, San Diego, or Colorado. I’ve thought about homeschooling or forming a pod, but that can lead to isolation or low social skills.

A couple months ago, I sketched out my version of the ideal school day: two hours of personalized learning on a computer, powered by AI, followed by the rest of the day outside playing with other kids. Basically a playground with two hours of video game-like learning.

Then I found out this school already exists. It’s called Alpha School.

It’s a chain of private schools around America where students learn for two hours a day on the computer, then spend the rest of their day on projects and activities. They use AI to personalize lessons, and even pay kids to learn. What stood out most to me is how much they encourage kids to dream big. One 5th grade class learned the economics of property management, then bought a house to manage on Airbnb.

If you want to learn more, check out this article, this podcast, and this first-hand review from a parent.

Intentions for September

This month, I want to continue to strive for simplicity and focus on fun. I feel like this month will be where we finally feel settled in. Namely, we need to get a dining table. I can already sense the shift is fully happening: the word routine has a positive connotation now.

I train jiu jitsu 3x a week, play basketball (indoors + full court = epic) 2x a week, lift 2-3x a week, and swim laps (slowly and outside) on Friday evening to clear my mind. Add on some career explorations, meeting 1-2 new people a week, trying a new restaurant on the weekend, and quality time with my girlfriend and friends and that’s a pretty full week.

There’s little desire to travel anymore. I sleep in a comfy king sized bed. I’m training jiu jitsu and biking around everywhere so I don’t end up becoming too soft. I eat ripe watermelon every day.

Life is good.

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P.S. I’m a coach.
I help ambitious people find work that actually matters and design their version of the good life. If that sounds interesting to you, learn more here.