Pedro Silva's Blog

I came across a post on X from The Random Recruiter that described the first 90 days in a new job as the period when ignorance is still interpreted as curiosity. I recognised that from my own recent experience.

At the beginning, asking basic questions is tolerated, but it never feels entirely safe. You hesitate before each one.

Is this a smart question or a stupid one? You ask anyway. Why does a process exist? Why does a team work a certain way? Why has nobody changed what looks broken? A few months later, the same questions can sound different.

I had mostly stopped wearing watches. The phone tells the time more accurately, and one less thing to carry on seemed perfectly reasonable.

Then I saw this.

Couldn’t get away from it. The grey textured dial, the angular steel case, the black rubber strap. Nothing particularly impressive at first sight, yet somehow difficult for me to ignore.

Worth watching this piece of advice from Coach Deion Sanders:

“Your opinion of me is not the opinion that I have on myself.”

Coach Deion Sanders drops the best piece of advice you'll ever hear: pic.twitter.com/lpWDKY5sUP

— Jesse Cohen (@JesseCohenInv) December 13, 2025

Post on X

I used to pay for Blinkist Premium and barely used it.

The value was obvious, but book summaries never really appealed to me. Reading a compressed version of a book felt like a poor substitute for reading the book itself, so eventually I quit.

Now I am back, but for a different reason.

The amount I want to learn has changed. AI is moving quickly, new tools appear constantly, and there is always another idea or field I want to understand a little better. I have become less interested in finishing books and more interested in following my curiosity.

I keep coming back to a simple saying I have heard in different forms:

Those who want to do something find a way. Those who don’t find an excuse.

Taken literally, it is unfair. Sometimes there really is no way. Time, money, health, responsibilities and plain bad luck can close doors regardless of how much someone wants something.

But I think the saying points to something else: our first instinct when something becomes difficult.

What strikes me on the train each morning is how many people are already working.

Laptops open. Headphones on. Emails, documents, presentations, calls. The commute has quietly become part of the working day, even if nobody officially calls it that.

We used to think of commuting as the space between home and work. That distinction is becoming more blurred all the time. For many people, work starts when they find a seat.

A line from James Clear’s 3-2-1 newsletter made me reflect:

“Being curious and excited can take you far, especially over the long arc of a life. The person who is a voracious lifelong learner will figure it out eventually. A strong reader with a healthy dose of curiosity and a willingness to try things is hard to stop.”

That might sound like an obvious statement, but I like it because it gives curiosity more credit than expertise.

I have just come back from a few weeks with my family between Portugal and Spain.

Good food, beaches, long days together and, most importantly, time with fewer things competing for attention. I am aware of how much of a privilege that is, especially when places that feel so different from everyday life are only a short flight away from Switzerland.

I came back rested, but also with energy. There is something useful about leaving the normal routine for a while. Distance gives perspective: makes some things feel less important and others more obvious.

This is my hobby: looking for ways to make my money work while I sleep.

Financial freedom begins when some of yesterday’s work keeps producing something forever.

A former line manager once told me that there is always a higher mountain to climb. When you think you have reached the top, that’s when you see the next one in front of you.

I think about that quite often. There is always another project that needs attention, another deadline approaching, another presentation that could be improved. Finishing one thing rarely creates the sense of completion we expect. Usually it simply reveals what comes next.