Autumn has arrived in New Zealand!!

It’s beautiful!

Arrowtown is all about the colors!! Leaves are sparkling yellow and orange on the trees!

It is getting cold, again; in late February!

Universe, thank you!! Please keep this in between -10 and 15 the whole spring and summer!

Erin in the Office is just like I was six years ago. Kind, innocent, simple, always wanting to help everyone. When she’s wronged, she stays quiet and watches.

It’s clear she’s never had proper support. And especially when men throw themselves at her, pressuring her to date or marry them, she politely rejects them but doesn’t resist. She knows resistance is useless, because she’s tried it before and it changed nothing.

People exploit her kindness and solitude. Yet when she meets the right person—Pete—her life improves, her confidence rises, and she stands her ground before others.

Even when Kevin wants to date her, and Michael urges Erin to go out with Kevin, she agrees with a disinterested shrug. But she does it, anyway.

When she tells Michael she likes Andy, and Michael tells Kevin he has no chance with Erin, Kevin begins insulting her. But Erin says nothing. She simply stares at him in utter disbelief. The difference between Erin and girls like her compared to other girls is that they give everyone a chance, yet they never look back, never grant someone a second opportunity.

For instance, she can hardly believe that Andy likes her. And if you pay attention, Erin is more sought after than any other girl in the office—by most men, or perhaps I should say, by every man close to her age.

The wind chimes have been playing incessantly today and yesterday. The wind blows plenty here.

Yet, yesterday and this morning, when I stepped outside, I noticed that they responded even to the gentlest of breezes.

It seems as if they are brining news to me, like a messanger.

In the late 1700s, Australia and America were both tied to Britain — but the people arriving there had very different stories.

Unlike America, Australia began as a penal colony. Starting in 1788, ships arrived carrying convicts sent by the British Empire to places like Sydney. Many had been convicted of crimes such as theft, burglary, forgery, or even stealing small items like food or cloth. Some crimes were serious, but many were surprisingly minor by today’s standards. These people didn’t choose to go — they were transported as punishment and forced to build a new life under strict control.

Unlike Australia, the American colonies were mostly made up of people who chose to go. Colonies such as Virginia and Massachusetts attracted farmers, religious groups, traders, and families looking for land and opportunity. Some Europeans also escaped to America simply because they disliked their governments, were involved in corruption, wanted to avoid debts, or had committed crimes but hadn’t been convicted. They saw the colonies as a fresh start — a place to disappear and reinvent themselves.

So while Australia was largely built by people sent away as punishment, America was largely shaped by people who ran toward something — opportunity, freedom, or sometimes just a clean slate.

In the early 1800s, Australia was still carrying the weight of its beginnings. Ships continued to arrive under the British Empire, bringing convicts who had been sentenced for crimes like theft, burglary, or forgery. They didn’t come by choice, and life was still strict and controlled. But slowly, something began to change. As the decades passed and transportation faded away, new people started arriving—not in chains, but with hope. During the gold rushes in places like Victoria, miners, families, and workers flooded in, chasing fortune and freedom. Australia was no longer just a place people were sent—it was becoming a place people chose.

Across the ocean, the United States told a different story from the start. By the 1800s, cities like New York City were buzzing with arrivals—Irish families fleeing famine, Germans escaping unrest, and others searching for land, work, or a second chance. Unlike Australia, they weren’t sent there as punishment. They came on their own terms. Some were honest and hopeful, others a bit more questionable—people dodging debts, scandals, or trouble back home—but they all shared one thing: they chose to come.

So while Australia slowly transformed from a land of forced arrivals into a land of opportunity, America had already been running on that idea. One was rewriting its story, leaving its prison past behind, while the other kept growing as a place where people arrived chasing something new—even if they were also running from something old.

By the 1900s, both Australia and the United States had left their rough beginnings behind—but they handled immigration in their own ways.

In Australia, the days of convicts were long over. No one was being sent there as punishment anymore. Instead, the country became selective about who could come. Most immigrants were from Europe—especially Britain—and later, after World War II, many more arrived from places like Italy and Greece to help build the nation. They were workers, families, and skilled people, all choosing to start fresh. Australia was no longer a place people were forced into—it had become a place people were carefully allowed into.

In the United States, immigration was bigger and more constant. Places like Ellis Island saw millions arrive—people from Europe, and later from Latin America and Asia. Most came looking for work, safety, or a better life. The country did check who entered, turning away those with serious criminal records or illness, but overall, it welcomed far more people than Australia did. Some newcomers were escaping trouble or difficult pasts, but they came by choice, not by force.

So while both countries were now shaped by free immigrants, Australia was more controlled and selective, and the United States was larger and more open. One carefully chose its newcomers, while the other became a place where people from all over the world kept arriving, chasing something new.

Those different immigration paths didn’t just shape who arrived—they shaped the personality of each country.

Australia had started as a place for convicts, many of whom weren’t hardened criminals at all—some had committed tiny thefts, like stealing food, or had no property to their name. Over time, the convict shipments ended, and the country began carefully choosing who could immigrate. Most newcomers were from Europe, bringing skills, families, and work ethic to help build the young nation. Because immigration was selective, Australia grew steadily and became a society that valued order, fairness, and stability. It wasn’t very diverse at first, but it built a strong sense of shared identity, gradually opening up to more cultures after World War II.

The United States, on the other hand, was a constant hub for people chasing new lives. Millions arrived through places like Ellis Island, bringing all kinds of backgrounds, languages, and traditions. Some were escaping poverty, famine, or political trouble, and a few had minor brushes with the law—but most came voluntarily. This flood of diverse people created a country that grew fast, messy, and rich in variety. There was tension and competition, but the idea of being a “nation of immigrants” became central.

So, while Australia became steady and structured first, only opening up gradually to diversity, the United States mixed everyone together from the start. Australia learned to balance order with new cultures; America learned to thrive amid chaos and constant change. One built cohesion before diversity, the other embraced variety from the very beginning.

The United States and Australia could not have taken more different paths, and it shows in how the countries feel today.

The U.S. was built fast and messy. From the very beginning, people poured in from all over—different languages, religions, and ways of living—each trying to make their own life. Cities grew wild and crowded, farms spread into untamed land, and communities often competed for resources. There was opportunity, yes, but also constant tension, conflict, and struggle. The country never had the luxury of order first; it had to invent rules and systems while chaos raged around it. That’s why today the U.S. can feel loud, unpredictable, and at times… well, a bit fucked up.

Australia, by contrast, grew slowly and carefully. Its first arrivals were convicts, often for tiny crimes or simply because they didn’t own property. Everything was strict and controlled. Later, immigration was selective, bringing skilled Europeans to build towns, farms, and cities in an orderly way. By the time the country opened up more widely, it already had strong systems, clean streets, and a sense that life ran smoothly. Australians learned to trust the system and enjoy the quiet comfort of a well-planned society.

So while the U.S. thrived in chaos, Australia thrived in order. One grew loud and unpredictable, the other calm, cosy, and steady—a difference you can still feel in the streets, homes, and rhythms of life today.

So, my dear ones, now you see why the United States has ended up the way it has, and why Australia has become the way it is. History.

University professors rarely do one thing properly: supervising a group well. Almost all of them are bad at what they do—some worse than others.

You—who don’t have management in your nature; you—who don’t have invention or creativity in your nature and got here mostly by reading and writing a few papers; you—whose motto was being a suck up to your advisor , became a professor through their recommendation and connections—why do you go and start a company?

Why do you think becoming a professor in some isolated, enchanted place—where your entire job is controlling a bunch of powerless kids—is supposed to inspire you to run a company?

You’re going to fail.

I believe that everyone should live however they choose. But—but—if you are a man, over forty-five, your hair has thinned or fallen out, even just a little, or it’s turning white, and you feel people shouldn’t see this because you think it’s a sign of weakness, so you decide to shave your head… I have to tell you: people do see it. And they understand exactly why.

I’m saying this based on more than ten men over forty-five who’ve gone bald, hit the gym every single day, and somehow managed to turn life into poison for everyone around them.

Spoiler alert: you’re going to get older, you’re going to die, and in the meantime the only thing that’s going to happen is that people will distance themselves from you because of your mindset.

People clock these things.