I'm grateful for the food in front of me

First, let me set the scene…

Last week, I wrote about my employment status and while I am yet to come to a solid conclusion, you’re able to read it yourself and maybe even come up with a conclusion for me: I was fired.

This week, we’re acknowledging a very special clown in my life (and now, I’m not be funny or MORE IMPORTANTLY, rude.)

Dear Younger Self,

I want to begin this letter with a little message to my Uncle — Uncle Joey — who sadly passed away on March 5th, 2025. Last Thursday, my family and I attended his funeral in Caloundra.

Now, technically, Joey wasn’t my uncle. But as a Māori, we tend to call any adult we’ve met more than once Uncle or Aunty. So Joey is my Uncle. Always has been. So, here goes…

Dear Uncle,

It had been a while since I last saw you. In fact, the last time was brief — and most of it we spent on jetskis. But even so, I’ve always held a strong memory of you from my childhood. I don’t remember much from back then, so the few memories I do have I cling to, using them to shape or fill in the gaps. And you’re in one of the brightest ones: my fifth birthday.

It was at our childhood home. Mum and Dad had invited all my friends, and there were games like bobbing for apples and egg-and-spoon races (God, I miss those kinds of parties). We’d just finished singing Happy Birthday, the cake had been brought out—and then, in the distance, I saw a clown. According to my memory, I was terrified. I hid under the table until I realised who it was. But my parents recently corrected me: apparently, I was embarrassed, ran over out of curiosity, and screamed, “Uncle Joey!” Either way, I knew it was you.

That was the thing — you were around during those blurry early years when memory doesn’t always stick, but I always knew you made me smile. And hearing the stories the kids shared at your funeral last week, it’s clear you made many children laugh. There’s that old saying, “you’re a child at heart” — I think you invented that phrase. You were a big kid in a 6’4” body. I hope you’re continuing to brighten lives, wherever you are. And thank you for brightening mine. RIP.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to raise a child.

As a parent, your attention is almost always on your child. But that attention often goes into working, providing, earning — doing things for them, without always being with them. The best way I can describe it is like that scene from Ratatouille, where the rat hides under the chef’s hat, tugging at his hair, guiding his every move.

I was raised by my grandparents, but my parents were behind the scenes — funding my life, giving instructions, pulling the strings. Maybe that’s not the cleanest metaphor, but I hope you get the point. It’s not until the final dish is plated — or in my case, when you hit a certain age — that you realise who’s really been doing the cooking.

I hope to have children one day. Far, far in the future. But I do worry — about society’s expectations, about the type of parent I’d be, about how present I could really be. I want to be there. I want to do drop-offs and pick-ups. I want to know what hobbies they love and help them get better at them. I want to hear about their day, even if they think it was boring.

There’s that moment when you finally recognise who cooked, how they cooked, what ingredients they used. The smells, the taste, the burnt edges, the overcooked parts. I realised my parents were “cooking” when I was 17. But it wasn’t until I turned 19 that I truly began to understand the hours they spent in the kitchen. How expensive the ingredients were. Why they kept telling me to slow down and enjoy my food.

Now at 21, I think about all the people who shaped me. The ones I used to think were doing the cooking, and the ones I now know were. I’m grateful for both. I’m grateful for the clown. I’m grateful for my grandparents. For my friends. For my parents — especially now, living back at home, watching them still cooking for me in ways I never understood before.

Love,

Le Hare

For a quick dopamine hit…

I’m a bit of a screen addict.

I constantly find myself staring at a screen, but like many of my habits, I aim to transform this into something beneficial—not just for myself, but for others too.

So, here are this week’s interesting discoveries I came across online that I think is worth your time:

Allow me to introduce you to… Haggis - AI is wild these days — you can usually tell what’s real and what’s not. But this video had me for a solid five seconds.

Still, that’s not why I’m sharing it. I’m sharing it because of the commitment. The consistency. The sheer dedication to the bit.

This account is fully devoted to one story, one creature, one fictional legend.

Yanran Chen Is on Another Planet - While most 19-year-olds are figuring out uni, she’s collaborating with The Three-Body Problem author Liu Cixin and bending time, space, and sculpture. From manga sketches to Balenciaga runways, her vibe feels human yet alien-ess.

Hmmm, let me think, while I was still figuring out what 8×7 was, Jackson Oswalt was building a nuclear fusion reactor in his playroom. Asides from the Guinness World Record, what I find more interesting was the involvement of the FBI.

I’ve been trying to find better and faster ways to build a one off solution for my automation setup Ive been thinking about and as a result, I came across Rork. It is a new AI agent that lets you build a fully working app just by describing it.

1. Instagram clone: insta-feed-design-34q8ap8.rork.app

2. Weather dashboard: city-weather-tracker-9wrosw1.rork.app

3. NYC food review app: Video demo here