It’s strange how something so small can become so meaningful. These tiny writings almost a hundred now, started as a simple idea. A few lines here and there, a way to capture a thought or a moment. I never expected them to stick. But they did. And now it feels hard to let go, even just for a while.

But all good things come to an end.

Summer is nearly here, and if you know Chicago, you know it comes alive in a way that feels almost magical. The lakefront glows. The parks hum with laughter. The city finally stretches out after a long winter. I want to be part of that. I want to be with my family, soaking in the warmth, making memories that do not need to be written down.

Also, the scale says 210 pounds. So I am kicking off a 90-day challenge to bring that down to 170. It will be hard. But there is fun in doing hard things.

This is not goodbye. Just a pause. I will be back, with more thoughts, more stories, and hopefully more handsome.

Thank you for reading and I love you all.

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But give them a real problem to solve, a team to lead, or a moment to create and they will show you what they are made of.

We miss out when we reduce potential to a score. Human strength comes in many forms: resilience, empathy, curiosity, grit. These do not fit neatly on a multiple-choice sheet.

So take a chance on people. Look beyond the numbers. Talent often hides in plain sight, just waiting for someone to believe in it.

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Staying offers that we value the relationship more than our discomfort. It means we are willing to listen, not just speak. It creates space for honesty.

Conflict often feels personal, but more often it's just two people protecting something that matters to them. If we leave, we protect ourselves. If we stay, we protect the relationship.

Of course, staying in the room does not mean tolerating disrespect. It means choosing to engage with compassion. Most conflicts do not need to be won. They need to be understood.

So next time things get hard, try staying in the room. Not easy but doable.

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Wear two different socks. Eat cake for breakfast. Say no when everyone expects a yes. Life isn’t meant to be lived in straight lines.

Rules are fine, but some were made to be bent, like "no dessert before dinner" Who made this up anyway?

Being a rebel doesn’t mean causing chaos. It means doing what feels right, even if it’s silly.

Laugh loudly. Take the long way home. And if someone says you’re doing it wrong, just smile and keep going.

Because the best kind of rebel is the happy one.

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But then I realized something funny, anyone could just Google my name and learn more than I ever said out loud.

Talking less felt safe, but it also meant staying hidden. I have learned that if you have something to say, you should be upfront about it.

I only really know someone when I hear them speak, when I feel their presence in a conversation. So why hold back?

I still value quiet, but now I know that opening up builds the kind of connection I used to hope silence would create.

That was a good lesson. One I try to live by now, even when it feels easier to stay silent.

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They’re not perfect, but they’re ours. They’re the ones who stayed, who worried, who forgave. In chasing friends, love, or success, we sometimes put them last. We forget how much it hurts them, how much they still root for us.

Mother’s Day is around the corner. Maybe there have been fights. Now, it is time to let go.

Come home. Hug your mom and dad, hug your sister or a brother. Call them. Say sorry if you need to. Laugh over old stories. Eat together. Take a photo.

Because nothing in the world will ever love you like your own blood. And no place will ever feel like home the way your mom’s hug does.

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We showed up in our best workout gear, full of confidence and caffeineted. Five minutes in, we were all in very different places. One friend was crushing it. One was silently regretting everything. One was faking a shoe malfunction. I was pretending to adjust my mat while secretly gasping for air.

What made it great. Not the burpees. Not the box jumps. But the feeling that we were in it together, figuring it out as we went even if it was simply awful.

When I started last week's series, I thought maybe I would share a few lessons, some encouragement, maybe a mildly helpful metaphor or two. I did not expect to overshare, spiral into vulnerability, or admit how often I almost quit writing a book.

Hey, but here we are!

Showing up, trying new things, laughing at ourselves, and building with the people who make it feel a little less scary.

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I did not tell anyone, there was a night I nearly gave up on a book. I felt like a fraud. Who was I to write this? Who was I to think I had anything worth sharing?

I almost closed my laptop for good.

But then I got a message from Zohra. Nothing big. Just: “Hey, how’s the writing going?” I hesitated, “I think I’m done. I don’t know what I’m doing.” She called me right away. She didn’t try to fix it. She just listened. Then she said something I won’t forget:

“You’re not doing this alone. I’m here. Keep going.”

And I did.

We think strength means doing everything ourselves. It does not. Strength is letting people in. Letting them see the fear. Letting them help you carry it.

The right people won’t let you give up on yourself. They will sit with you in the dark until the spark returns. They will remind you why you started, even when you forget.

And you just need a few who see you and stay. So keep them close and love them more.

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I used to think that way. I held back, not wanting to take risks, fearing that every misstep would cost me my dream. When I started writing a book, I was terrified. I thought every word had to be perfect. I spent more time rewriting than actually moving forward.

But here is the truth, every time I stumbled, I learned something I could not have learned any other way. And that made me better and for sure stronger.

So I started sharing my work before it was “ready.” I let people see the rough drafts, the mistakes, and the messy parts of the process. And you know what? That was the best decision I ever made. Because each piece of feedback, every misstep, taught me something valuable that I could not have figured out on my own.

So take action and keep going. That is how you get where you want to be.

Tommorow, we will talk about the people who will challenge you to grow and push you to keep going, the ones who will change your journey.

Tommorow: 8 of 8 Finding Your Why And Holding Onto It

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That mindset almost killed a book.

I spent weeks outlining, deleting, second-guessing. The more I tried to get it right in isolation, the more stuck I felt. Until one day, I stopped writing and just started talking. I reached out to a few friends, told them what I was thinking about, and asked what they wished someone had told them when they started.

Suddenly, I was not guessing anymore. I was learning. No hypotheticals. Not what I thought people wanted. What they actually said. What they actually felt.

And I realized something big. You don’t find clarity by thinking harder. You find it by listening better.

If you have an idea, talk to people. Ask what they’ve tried. Don’t pitch. Just ask. Just care.

Tommorow, we talk about the pivot, and what to do when the plan starts to shift.

Tommorow: 7 of 8 Get It Wrong to Get It Right

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It’s one thing to dream alone. It’s another to post that first idea, send that first email, tell people what you are working on. The moment you do, the doubts get louder. What if they don’t get it. What if it’s not ready. What if I’m not ready.

When I started writing a book, I kept it quiet. I was afraid of looking silly. Afraid of calling myself a writer before the work was done.

So one day I did the scariest thing. I told a friend. Then I wrote a short post. That one move gave me something. Not approval. Not applause. Just a feeling. And that was enough for me to keep going.

Please let the world see you try. Let them see you build. That’s where my story begins to matter and so will yours.

Tommorow: 6 of 8 Don’t Guess, Ask!

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Most people who start don’t have any of that. They just have a real problem they care about and the decision to begin.

When I first thought about writing a book, I did what a lot of us do. I stalled. The truth was, I was just scared, so freaking scared.

What helped me finally start was realizing I didn’t need to know how the whole thing would turn out. I just needed to write one honest page. And then another. And then another. That’s it.

You need to take one small step and let it teach you something. That’s what you really need to begin.

Tommorow: 5 of 8 Building While the World Watches

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But because starting means saying, I’m really going to try. But…What if I fail? What if they laugh?

When I was just about to take my first real step as simple as only sharing the idea, I froze. I told myself I needed more research, more time, more certainty. But all I really needed was more courage.

What finally pushed me? A friend asked, What’s the worst that could happen? The honest answer: not much. Just few bruises to the ego but I can always live upto that.

If you’re scared, good. That means you care.

Now take one small step. Write the email. Sketch the idea. Tell someone you trust. Start. Stumble. Learn. That’s how every entrepreneur you admire did it.

Tommorow: 4 of 8 What You Really Need to Begin

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This simple pattern of returning to familiar things is meaningful. It shows us that the past can be just as important as the present. We do not always need new experiences to feel happy. Sometimes, there is value in the old ones, that we return to over and over. They offer a reminder that the things we already know can bring us joy.

I am spending my Friday night rewatching, The Scent of a Woman. Yes, again.

There is something special about returning to a film you know so well. The lines, the music, the way everything unfolds. Al Pacino’s Oscar-winning performance stands out, not just for its brilliance, but because it reminds me of how often we are not recognized for our efforts until much later. Pacino had delivered incredible performances before and Godfather is one of them, but it was this one that finally brought him the Oscars.

Isn’t that how life feels sometimes? I give my all, pour my heart into everything I do, and yet, it often feels like no one notices. But just because I am not seen does not mean it did not matter. It did. Every small victory, mattered.

So tonight, there are Oscars for all of us, even if there is no stage and no one to clap, just a quiet night and a pizza on its way (no Pineapple please).

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When I started thinking about my own idea, I made myself pause. I asked, Who actually feels this pain? How often? Is it big enough that they would pay to make it go away? That shift from dreaming up solutions to deeply studying the problem, changed everything.

Instead of building right away, I started listening. The more I listened, the clearer it became, people weren’t just annoyed, they were desperate for something better.

That is when the problem became a possibility. A real gap. A real need.

If you're sitting on an idea right now, ask yourself:

• Who does this problem actually affect?

• How painful is it on a scale from “mild inconvenience” to “daily headache”?

• What are they doing now to solve it?

Do not start with the product. Start with the problem. Get obsessed with it. And only then, build.

Tommorow: 3 of 8 The Fear of Starting

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It showed up at odd time, in the shower, during my morning chai, or late at night when the world was quiet. Always whispered the same thing: “Why hasn’t someone fixed this yet?”

It started like that for me. Not with a business plan. Just a problem I kept running into, and a growing belief that maybe, just maybe, I could do something about it.

If you have ever felt that itch, that spark to build something meaningful, you’re not alone. That idea in your head? It could be the beginning of something more than just a thought. It could be the start of your next chapter.

In the coming days, I will be sharing the lessons I have learned from my personal journey, the wins and the setbacks. If you are ready to take your idea seriously, let’s go on this ride together.

Tommorow: 2 of 8 From Problem to Possibility

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At first, I had no idea where to start. But then I tried something that’s really helping called, “First Principles Thinking”. It’s a way of thinking where you break things down to its most basic.

Let's say I took a big idea, like “strategy,” and broke it down. What really strategy is? Is it a plan? A goal? A set of choices? It’s like reverse-engineering the big ideas so they actually make sense from the ground up.

Here’s a simple First Principles example of “going back in the past”:

Problem: People want to "go back in time" to change or understand the past.
Conventional Thinking: Time travel is about building a time machine, like in sci-fi.
First Principles Thinking:

1. What is "going back in time"?
   Experiencing a past state of the world.

2. Can we reconstruct the past without actual time travel?
   If we collect enough information (data, recordings, DNA, simulations), we might not need to physically travel back.

I’m really losing it with this example! As you can probably tell, focus isn’t my strong suit right now. Wish me luck!

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AI can replicate processes and analyze data at lightning speed, but it cannot replace true mastery, passion, or creativity. I have had enough of this talk about AI taking over my job.

When you dedicate yourself to becoming exceptional, you bring something into the world that no machine can replicate: your unique perspective, your intuition, and your ability to inspire others.

Excellence is magnetic. People are drawn to it. Companies, communities, and industries will always recognize and reward those who stand out.

In a world full of automation, true expertise shines even brighter. If you consistently deliver work that is thoughtful and original, the world will not just notice you, it will seek you out.

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Wow, those burgers were good. Juicy, flavorful, just what we needed. At first, the conversation was all laughs, swapping stories about Gordon Ramsay's show Hell’s Kitchen.

But soon enough, things shifted. Suddenly, we were not just eating burgers, we were critiquing them like we were judges on a reality show. One friend picked apart the seasoning, another questioned the bun choice. I did not mind it. Honestly, it is pretty fun sometimes to watch them fight it out over nothing.

Then, out of nowhere, one of them said something that made us all pause. He said, "Try to be happy. You will start to like everything." We all just looked at him for a second, silent. Then, of course, we did the only thing that made sense: we ordered an Oreo Crème Brûlée Shake, but not for him.

Some days, the best memories are built exactly like that.

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It was not just love that kept them together. Love can sometimes be tested. But loyalty is different. Loyalty is choosing each other, even when it is hard, even when life gets messy. My parents showed me that loyalty is what carries a relationship through laughter and heartache.

In a world that often feels transactional, where relationships can sometimes feel like a game of "you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours," my parents showed me a different way. Loyalty means standing by someone even when there is nothing to gain. It is about being there in good times and bad, not keeping score.

Their journey reminded me that we need to be loyal not only to family, but to friends and even strangers we meet along the way.

Loyalty isn’t always easy but relationships built on loyalty are the ones that last and mean the most.

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