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Watching the Apple Event Like My German Neighbor Painting His Fence

I watched the Apple event out of the corner of my eye — the same way I watch my German neighbor repaint his fence every spring. Same fence, just shinier paint.

iPhone 17 Air: Now Sharp Enough to Slice Bread

So now we have the iPhone 17 Air. Air. Dust. Plastic salvation for humanity. It's the thinnest yet — perfect for slicing bread while doomscrolling TikTok.

Apple Watch Ultra 3: Talk to the Satellite

The Apple Watch Ultra 3 can now talk to satellites. Great. All that's left is for the satellite to start charging a monthly fee.

AirPods Pro 3: Your Pocket Cardiologist

AirPods Pro 3 now track your heart rate. I can already imagine the day they whisper, “You have tachycardia.” I’ll take them off, but they'll keep beating in the case.

“More Affordable Than Ever”: Translation Required

And all of this is served under the slogan “Now more affordable.” Which loosely translates to: “You’ll survive with last year’s model, peasant. Take out a loan and stop whining.”

Civilization is tired. Apple, however, is still joyfully painting that same old fence.

P.S. AAPL is crawling upward — I bought a little before the show.

My Superpower: Turning Movement Into Momentum

My superpower is turning movement into tangible results — and inspiring others to come along.

According to CliftonStrengths, I'm an Activator and Achiever: I launch things, take the risk, and don’t stop until the goal is met. Combined with curiosity and optimism, this turns ideas into actual wins.

Why Strengths-Based Leadership Works

Leaders who lean into their strengths see up to an 8% increase in productivity and a 15% boost in team engagement (Gallup, 2016).

Focusing on talents improves life satisfaction and reduces burnout risk (Clifton & Harter, 2003).

Using your core strengths makes you more effective — and happier (Applied Psychology, Harzer & Ruch, 2012).

Build on Your Strengths — Not Your Weaknesses

It’s simply smarter to build a life and business around what makes you thrive — instead of constantly patching your weak spots.

So… what’s your superpower?

Burning Man is not a festival — it's a transformation

It's like if Stanford, a desert rave, a contemporary art exhibition, and an ancient shaman all merged into one being and decided to live through your inner transformation for you.

People who feel like dreams

I met a girl from Toronto who was convinced she was a witch. On the third day, she gave me a stone and said it vibrated on my frequency. Later we danced at sunrise to some kind of Japanese techno-house. The next morning, she left to find meaning in the desert. I never found her—or the meaning. But the stone remained.

Trust the toast and a glowing jellyfish

I met a guy who introduced himself as Alex but said here he’s “Star Cat.” He made me a mozzarella toast with the phrase “Trust the dust” burned into it. We sat under a glowing jellyfish sculpture and talked about blues. He turned out to be a developer from California and had the best chillout spot in camp.

Where strangers give compliments

One stop had a Compliment Bar. Strangers said kind things to other strangers they'd never met. Someone told me, "You look like someone who could be trusted with a galaxy." Two days later, I met a grandpa in a mermaid costume at the same spot.

A glowing cloak, a deer-bike, and a silent rave

I met a woman in her sixties who said it was her eighth time at Burning Man—because, here, men listen. She wore a glowing cloak and rode a bicycle shaped like a deer. She invited me to a silent rave—everyone had headphones on, but we were all still yelling. It was beautiful.

The art of unresolved pain

On the third day—eyes full of dust, electrolytes in hand, and baby mango puree for lunch—I met a guy who had lived in a monastery in Nepal for two years. Now he builds art installations shaped like emotional wounds he can’t let go of. One was a giant open hand with the words “Say it anyway.” We just stood there in silence.

When everything becomes unreal

At night… everything becomes surreal. Fire, lights, costumes, dancing, smells, dreams. Everything you thought you were begins to dissolve. And everything you feared most comes in for a hug. It's not scary. The desert is just showing you.

Fire, silence, and the ones you don’t take pictures with

Then it all burns. You stand in front of the giant burning Man, and inside, there's absolute silence. Not because there's nothing—but because there's peace.

I met people you don’t want to take pictures with. You just want to sit in silence beside them. No one writes about them in posts. But they might be the reason I’ll come back.