I think we're entering a new era of AI. Not a new model. Not a new headline. A new mood. For the last few years, we've been stuck in what I'd call the promise economy : AI is going to change everything, fix everything, scale everything. But there's a shift happening now: what some folks are calling the "Realism" era. According to the Stanford Institute for Human-Centered AI, we're moving from "Look what AI could do" to "Show me what AI actually does in real life" (Stanford

Last week, I watched our daughter Phoebe solve a coding problem using ChatGPT. She'd ask a question, get an answer, implement it, hit an error, ask again. The loop took seconds. Watching her work, I realized something unsettling: the machine was operating at its speed, not hers. And that's the quiet crisis nobody's talking about. The Speed Mismatch We're Not Discussing Here's the uncomfortable truth: AI capabilities are doubling every seven months while human cognition has

I am a parent first. Our daughter, Phoebe, is 23. She is autistic, ADHD, and epileptic. We have done the long stretch of diagnoses, therapies, school meetings, and the kind of ER visits that erase your sense of time. She has also survived two craniotomies. When you have lived that, the words “trust,” “safety,” and “accountability” stop being abstract nouns. They become the whole point. So when I hear leaders talk about “ethical AI” like it is a compliance chore, I have a hard

As a parent, I do not think about wearables in abstracts. I think about the nights my wife of 31 years (Suzy Girard at https://tenderwildfires.substack.com/ ) and my daughter spent in the ER. I think about our daughter, now 23, living with autism, ADHD, and epilepsy—and what it means to build tools that reduce harm before a hard day turns into a medical crisis. A decade ago, wearables mostly meant one thing: steps. Maybe a heart rate graph if you were feeling fancy. Now the s

I’m writing this as a parent first. Our daughter Phoebe is 23 and autistic, ADHD, and epileptic. We’ve done the rounds you never want to do: diagnoses, therapies, ER visits, and two craniotomies. When your kid’s brain is the battleground, you get very serious, very fast, about what helps attention, what steals it, and what quietly drains a person’s ability to cope. We have all felt it. That heavy, foggy feeling after hours of video calls. The inability to concentrate after sc

I’m writing this as a parent first. Our daughter Phoebe is 23. She’s autistic, ADHD, and has epilepsy. We’ve done the full tour: diagnoses, therapies, ER visits, and two craniotomies. So when I say “distraction” isn’t just annoying, I mean it can be dangerous. Let’s be honest: most of the technology we use every day wasn’t designed to help us focus. It was designed to capture our attention and keep it hostage. From infinite scroll feeds to notification bombardment, modern AI

Figure 1. The neuroscience of focus: why your team is fatigued (and how AI can help). Before I say a word about meetings, AI, or productivity, I want to start where I always start: at home. Our daughter, Phoebe, is 23. She’s autistic, has ADHD, and lives with epilepsy. We’ve done the full circuit: evaluations, therapies, long nights, ER visits that turn into hospital stays, and two craniotomies that rewire your definition of “tired” forever. So when I say “fatigue,” I don’t m

I am a parent first. Our daughter, Phoebe, is 23. She is autistic, ADHD, and epileptic. We have done the long stretch of diagnoses, therapies, school meetings, and the kind of ER visits that erase your sense of time. She has also survived two craniotomies. When you have lived that, the words “trust,” “safety,” and “accountability” stop being abstract nouns. They become the whole point. So when I hear leaders talk about “ethical AI” like it is a compliance chore, I have a hard

As a parent, I do not think about wearables in abstracts. I think about the nights my wife of 31 years (Suzy Girard at https://tenderwildfires.substack.com/ ) and my daughter spent in the ER. I think about our daughter, now 23, living with autism, ADHD, and epilepsy—and what it means to build tools that reduce harm before a hard day turns into a medical crisis. A decade ago, wearables mostly meant one thing: steps. Maybe a heart rate graph if you were feeling fancy. Now the s

I’m writing this as a parent first. Our daughter Phoebe is 23 and autistic, ADHD, and epileptic. We’ve done the rounds you never want to do: diagnoses, therapies, ER visits, and two craniotomies. When your kid’s brain is the battleground, you get very serious, very fast, about what helps attention, what steals it, and what quietly drains a person’s ability to cope. We have all felt it. That heavy, foggy feeling after hours of video calls. The inability to concentrate after sc

I’m writing this as a parent first. Our daughter Phoebe is 23. She’s autistic, ADHD, and has epilepsy. We’ve done the full tour: diagnoses, therapies, ER visits, and two craniotomies. So when I say “distraction” isn’t just annoying, I mean it can be dangerous. Let’s be honest: most of the technology we use every day wasn’t designed to help us focus. It was designed to capture our attention and keep it hostage. From infinite scroll feeds to notification bombardment, modern AI