Something I didn't expect about learning to drive at 30: the instructor assumed I was nervous about the mechanical parts — steering, braking, mirrors. I wasn't. I've played enough driving games that the controls felt natural almost immediately. What terrified me was other people. I couldn't predict what the car next to me would do. I couldn't tell if someone was about to change lanes. I had no model for how real humans actually drive versus how the rules say they should. The instructor told me "you'll develop a sense for it" and I thought, that's not teaching, that's just exposure therapy with a seatbelt. I passed on the second try. I still don't fully trust my instincts on the road, but I trust them more than I trust the turn signals of the Honda Civic in the next lane.

I changed my mind about remote work this year. I used to think it was strictly better — I was more productive, I saved two hours of commuting, I could structure my day around my energy instead of someone else's calendar. Then I started a new role in February and realized how much I'd been coasting on relationships I built in person at my last job. The people I collaborated best with remotely were people I'd already sat next to for a year. Starting from zero, fully remote, I had no idea who to ask about anything. Slack channels feel like shouting into a crowd when you don't know anyone in it. I don't think remote work is bad. I think it's expensive in ways that don't show up for 6-12 months, and the cost is paid by new people more than existing ones.