For entrepreneurs, this is a pivotal realization. As access to powerful models becomes seamless, the question remains: what is your lasting advantage? A great idea used to provide a six-month head start. Now, the market can be filled with nearly identical products within weeks.

This is the new reality of the startup world. When everyone builds on the same foundational models, ideas are no longer the moat—because a competitor can replicate your work in a fraction of the time. The playing field has been completely leveled.

At this point, competition returns to the most fundamental element: people.

As an investor, I’ve noticed a consistent pattern: competitors can buy the same tools, the same models, and the same infrastructure. But the one thing they cannot buy is a founder’s judgment, their network, and the trust they have built over years.

AI has dramatically amplified productivity, but it has also sharpened the differences between individuals. That difference manifests first in judgment. I’m not referring to raw ideas—I’m talking about insight. AI can execute tasks with high efficiency, but it cannot yet identify where the true commercial opportunity lies. The instinct to pinpoint a genuine pain point has become the ultimate differentiator.

Equally critical are trust and distribution. In a market of increasing product parity, clients rarely choose you based on a superior model alone. More often, they choose you because of a long-term relationship that cannot be digitized. And as AI makes output easier to generate, the ability to get that output in front of the right stakeholders matters more than ever.

Third is speed of execution. In the pre-AI era, a slow-moving team might still have had the luxury of time. But when replication is nearly instant, winning is determined by whether you can reach the next frontier before others catch up. Adaptability is now the baseline, not the edge.

AI sets a higher bar for the ordinary, but it also amplifies excellence. If your only advantage is a “great idea,” this era will be challenging. But if your foundation is built on trust, judgment, and execution, AI will be the most powerful catalyst you’ve ever had.

In the past, choosing a “stable” path usually guaranteed a secure future. But in today’s world, technology moves at breakneck speed. The “safe bets” of yesterday can be overturned in just a few short years.

I believe that instead of obsessing over the “most promising” path, we should ask ourselves: Is there something so captivating that you lose all track of time doing it—and love every second of it?

A friend recently shared a story about a middle schooler obsessed with Roblox and Discord. At first, he was just like any other teenager who loved gaming. But gradually, he began researching, watching tutorials, joining international communities, and connecting with players worldwide.

Soon, being just a player wasn’t enough. He taught himself to code and developed tools to solve real-world problems within his community, making communication more efficient. Recently, he even fell in love with Japanese, asking his teacher to ramp up the difficulty just so he could converse more fluently with people from different cultures.

Watching him evolve from a player to a self-learner, then a creator, and finally a cross-cultural communicator, it’s clear that no one forced him to learn. (And thankfully, no one labeled his passion as “pointless gaming.”) He was simply driven by genuine fascination. When he talks about his work, his eyes light up. That level of focus and excitement is something no exam score could ever replicate.

The true engine of personal growth is precisely this state of “having a spark in your eyes.” When you find something that truly captivates you, skills like adaptability, communication, technical prowess, and cultural empathy develop naturally. These competencies might not have a formal job title at first, but they are quietly accumulating, becoming the bedrock of your future.

No matter what stage of life you are in, ask yourself: What are you willing to immerse yourself in, day after day? What makes your eyes light up again? Give yourself the grace to explore; allow yourself to take the “less linear” path. May we all find that version of ourselves—the one with the spark in our eyes.

His words challenge a deeply ingrained belief: that following a time-tested formula will inevitably lead to a stable and prosperous life. Yet, as technological change accelerates, even the most prestigious skills are seeing their “shelf life” contract at an alarming rate.

While Musk highlighted how specialized fields like medicine could be upended, he left the most critical question unanswered: How should we respond?

This question resonates with the pivotal transitions in my own career. My journey has taken me from the life of a national-level tennis player to elite academic institutions, and eventually into the worlds of entrepreneurship and venture capital. From the outside, this path may look like a seamless collection of high-status labels. But behind those accolades was a constant need for profound identity shifts and mental recalibration.

In my view, regardless of your field, the most vital asset is not your title, but the courage to constantly adjust.

Tennis, entrepreneurship, and investing are vastly different arenas. Each transition forced me to dismantle and rebuild my mental frameworks from the ground up. My appetite for risk and innate curiosity repeatedly pulled me into unfamiliar territory, expanding both my resilience and my worldview.

Had I stayed on the tennis court, I might be a professional coach today—an honorable and stable career. But had I clung to that singular identity or refused to adapt to the unknown, I never would have survived the volatility of business, let alone entered the high-stakes world of investing, which demands constant macro-level judgment.

This journey led me to a realization: the most successful individuals possess an exceptional degree of cognitive agility. When the landscape shifts, they don’t linger in frustration. They acknowledge when their original assumptions are no longer valid and move swiftly to identify the next opportunity. They experiment boldly, fail fast, and course-correct even faster.

Elon Musk’s commentary is certainly thought-provoking. However, more than any specific career choice, it is this ability to shatter our own assumptions and lean into change that will serve as our compass through the technological storms ahead.

In recent years, I’ve had many conversations with people from different generations. What’s striking is how much earlier—and how much more intensely—this sense of uncertainty is showing up. Many people have taken countless courses and earned every certification they could, yet still find themselves asking the same question: What does it actually mean to be ready?

These conversations have pushed me to rethink the learning paths we’ve long taken for granted. Traditionally, the sequence was clear: choose a major, spend years accumulating knowledge and skills, then enter the workforce and draw on what you’ve learned when real problems arise.

That model worked because industries evolved slowly and access to knowledge was expensive. If you didn’t prepare in advance, many doors simply remained closed.

But AI is fundamentally changing that assumption. Today, learning a new skill no longer requires years of upfront investment. As long as you have a sense of what you want to do, the relevant knowledge and tools can often be filled in later—with the help of AI. In that sense, knowledge itself is becoming inflated. Simply accumulating skills is no longer enough to create a lasting advantage.

Against this backdrop, the idea of “being fully prepared before you begin” feels increasingly outdated—and in some cases, inefficient. As we move from learn first, then apply to apply first, then learn, the real differentiator may no longer be how many skills you’ve mastered, but whether you’re clear about the problem you want to solve.

This reversal in learning order may feel counterintuitive, but it often leads to greater clarity. That doesn’t mean foundational knowledge is no longer important. Rather, it should function as a map—helping you identify good problems—rather than as the sole weapon you rely on.

Those who can identify meaningful problems early tend to see their learning efficiency grow exponentially. On the other hand, even vast amounts of knowledge can become scattered and unfocused if there’s no clear problem guiding it.

As we look ahead to 2026 and begin setting new learning goals, perhaps the better question to ask is this: What problem is worth solving in the coming year? When direction comes first, learning tends to follow naturally. And perhaps, this way of preparing for the future can make the year ahead feel more purposeful—and more exciting.

The reason is simple. AI now performs many of the skills that used to belong exclusively to trained professionals. If you spend your entire youth mastering a single, rigid skillset, by the time you finally gain expertise, there’s a good chance AI will already be doing it faster, cheaper, and at scale.

This isn’t to say expertise doesn’t matter — it does. But expertise alone is no longer your greatest competitive advantage. What will set you apart in the years ahead is flexibility: the ability to learn across domains and adapt when the world shifts under your feet. Over the next decade or two, industries we once thought were stable will be reshuffled. And that won’t stop just because you happen to be good at one thing.

I often tell students: don’t just learn knowledge — learn how to learn. It sounds abstract, but in the age of AI, this may be the most practical skill of all. AI can generate endless answers, but it cannot define the right questions. It can show you many possible paths, but it cannot decide which one you should walk.

That’s why the value of a generalist becomes even clearer. When your perspective is broader and your interests span multiple fields, you’re more capable of cross-disciplinary thinking — of combining ideas that don’t usually sit together to create something new. AI can give you all the pieces, but you need the ability to see patterns, make connections, and even challenge assumptions.

Looking back, my own career has unfolded the same way. I didn’t follow a straight professional track. I’ve been an athlete, a founder, an investor, and now I work deeply in education. These roles may seem unrelated, but precisely because I never confined myself to a single identity, I’ve been able to navigate major transitions and keep finding new directions.

So if you’re still in school, don’t rush to label yourself as “a finance person,” “an engineer,” or “a legal professional.” Instead, train yourself to pick up new domains quickly and apply your knowledge in more flexible, creative ways.

If I could leave you with one message as you step into the future, it would be this: don’t lock yourself into one specialty — build the ability to cross boundaries. Be a generalist, not a specialist.

That question immediately took me back to my teenage years — to a decisive match I was certain I would win, yet ended up losing completely.

At the time, I was ranked No. 1 nationally. Winning that match would have secured my year-end position. Everything started off perfectly — my rhythm was steady, my strategy precise, and I was fully in control. But after a few unforced errors, things began to fall apart. The shots I trusted most suddenly failed me. Anxiety crept in: What’s happening? My focus shifted from “How do I play the next point?” to “Please don’t make another mistake.”

From that moment on, I was no longer playing to win — I was playing not to lose. My opponent sensed the hesitation and turned up the pressure. I grew increasingly cautious, until eventually, I lost the match altogether.

It took me a long time to move past that defeat. Because deep down, I knew I hadn’t been beaten by my opponent — I had been beaten by the version of myself that was afraid to lose.

Years later, as I stepped into the professional world, I realized that almost everyone faces the same inner opponent. In entrepreneurship and investing alike, success often hinges less on intelligence or skill and more on mindset. When things go wrong, some people panic and lose focus, while others pause, assess the situation, and recalibrate. The difference is not in how fast they react, but in how well they reset. The ones who don’t dwell on the last point are the ones who have the energy and clarity to play the next.

I’ve seen founders whose first ventures failed, even earning them the label of “loser.” Yet they didn’t stay down. They absorbed the lessons, shifted focus to what came next, and tried again. Those are often the ones who go on to build great companies.

Watching them, I came to understand that the real turning point isn’t external — it’s internal. This isn’t just a founder’s lesson; it’s a lifelong practice. Life, like tennis, is a series of matches against yourself. Losing to your own fear isn’t shameful — it’s often when true growth begins. Real victory isn’t about never making mistakes, but about learning to let go, reset, and win again — this time, against the version of yourself that came before.

But over the years, I’ve watched countless founders, and almost none of their original ideas grew up unchanged. Some pivoted from consumer to enterprise markets, some rebuilt their products from scratch, and some only found a breakthrough path at the edge of giving up.

My first lesson: ideas are never the ultimate key to success.

An idea is more like a window—revealing a founder’s worldview and thought process. Why this market? Why now? Most importantly: what problem do they see, and how do they define it? Ideas are merely a starting point, constantly reshaped by the market. What truly matters is the founder’s insight into the world and how they ask questions—these determine the direction and quality of every adjustment. What’s worth investing in is not a “perfect answer,” but the unique way of thinking behind it.

Over the past decade, I’ve also come to realize that markets are far more powerful than I once imagined. Products can always be revised, but if the market is too small—or the timing too early—even the smartest solution may end in vain. Entrepreneurship is never a solo battle; it needs the push of a larger wave. Otherwise, it’s hard to go far. Many teams that seemed technically perfect still failed, often because the market wasn’t big enough or the rhythm was off.

Most importantly, what ultimately determines whether a company can endure is people. What brings most companies down isn’t the wrong direction—it’s founders who can’t fix mistakes or keep going when things get tough.

When faced with misjudgments, can a founder swallow their pride and admit fault? After repeated failures, can they still stand back up? Ideas can be adjusted, markets can be re-chosen—but the founder’s integrity is non-negotiable. In the end, those who succeed are not always the smartest, but those who are honest with themselves and refuse to give up.

I once believed investing was a science. After ten years, I’ve learned it is much more an act of trust. The future cannot be predicted, and data is never complete.The biggest lesson I’ve learned in this decade is to keep faith when things are uncertain, to look beyond the moment, and to see the future with a longer perspective.

Many assume that “storytelling” is a natural-born talent. But this student’s performance proved something else: what truly influences others is not innate eloquence, but a skill that can be learned and developed. I call this skill Story Crafting.

Imagine walking into a room. Your first task is not to speak, but to observe and listen—to understand what the other person truly cares about. Once you discover the angle that resonates, your story gains its entry point. Then, you layer emotion with evidence, so your message touches the heart while standing on reason. As the conversation unfolds, you guide the interaction—when the listener starts nodding or even engaging actively, you know they’ve already stepped into your story.

Finally, you must leave behind something they can carry with them: perhaps a short but powerful phrase that echoes in their mind; a vivid image that lingers in memory; or, most importantly, a concrete action that motivates them to take the next step after the meeting. A story is only complete when the listener walks away still remembering you.

When a story follows these steps, it ceases to be mere performance—it becomes a force that drives decisions and inspires change. It creates resonance in the moment, and leaves a lasting aftereffect long after the conversation ends.

In the post-AI era, information is more abundant than ever, and knowledge is at our fingertips. What’s scarce is no longer content, but trust and influence. AI can generate endless text, but it cannot reveal your values. It can mimic language, but it cannot build authentic connection. Ultimately, what determines success is whether the other person chooses to keep the conversation going—or even take action—after hearing you.

That is the true value of Story Crafting. It is not a “superpower” reserved for the gifted few, but a hard skill that anyone can hone through practice. And mastering it may well be the key to seizing your next opportunity.

At one point, she lowered her voice, as if sharing a secret.

“A lot of people quietly use AI to finish their homework,” she said. “The professors know it happens, but they still expect us to do many parts on our own.”

It was an offhand remark, yet it stayed with me.

When technology can complete a task faster—and often better—why insist on doing it by hand? Is it because learning demands the slow grind? Or because we believe something only counts if it’s done the hard way?

For her, the answer was discipline—an exercise in sharpening her own mind. But her dilemma belongs to more than just students.

When ChatGPT’s new Agent Mode can answer emails, map itineraries, prepare presentations, shop for groceries, even draft financial reports, it forces a question most of us would rather avoid: how much of what once filled our days was truly work, and how much was ritual?

AI holds up an unforgiving mirror. In its reflection, the “busywork” that propped up entire careers is suddenly stripped bare. And if the doing is no longer the point, then what is?

What remains is judgment. In a world where execution is cheap, deciding what deserves to be done becomes priceless.

Choosing the right task, knowing when to stop, and allocating scarce time and resources—these are no longer side skills. They are the core.

That shift changes our role entirely. Workplaces once depended on legions of people moving step by step through a process. Now they need those who can set the direction, choose the tempo, and decide which notes are worth playing at all. We are less the performers, more the conductors.

And conducting, at its heart, is about values. If everyone has access to the same tools, what separates one person’s output from another’s is no longer speed or polish—it’s the convictions that guide their choices.

AI will make execution faster. It will make the wrong choice faster, too.

The real test ahead is not whether we can do more, but whether we will choose, with care, what is truly worth doing.

Congratulations on starting college in 2025! I know you’re feeling both excited and a little overwhelmed right now. You might be wondering: Does studying still matter when AI can write essays, create videos, and code better than you? Will the world even need someone like you when you graduate? It’s okay to feel that way—I did too.

Here’s what I want you to know: you don’t have to have it all figured out. Instead, start by asking yourself what truly matters to you. What’s something you can’t stop thinking about? What’s something you’d love to make better? Maybe it’s fixing slow processes at school, helping friends who are struggling to find classes, or calling out something unfair. Choose something that speaks to your heart, and start from there. Even if you don’t master it all before you graduate, you’ll gain a much deeper understanding of yourself and your journey.

Don’t worry so much about picking the perfect career right now. Focus on finding problems you’re passionate about solving—that’s what will take you further than any job title ever could.

And don’t get too hung up on what you’re majoring in. Think about what you can start doing today. Remember: college can be your playground for trying new things. Organize a talk with students from different majors, build a small AI tool, help a local café create social media videos, or set up a system to help your student group run more smoothly. You don’t need to wait until graduation to start building—these days, tools and resources are everywhere, and creating something new has never been easier. Let your curiosity guide you, and take action even when you’re unsure. You’ll learn so much just by trying.

I want you to also work on building your own perspective. AI can know everything, but it can’t tell you what truly matters to you or what kind of world you dream of creating. It’s okay if you don’t know all the answers yet. Write down your thoughts, talk about your ideas, and keep asking questions. Over time, your feelings will shape into your own voice.

And above all, embrace trying, stumbling, and growing—that’s how you’ll move forward. In a world changing this quickly, mistakes are some of the best teachers you’ll ever have. The outcome doesn’t matter nearly as much as the experience you gain. You don’t need to be amazing before you start; you just need to start—and that’s how you’ll eventually become amazing.

Take your time. Stay curious. Keep exploring. Believe in yourself, and you’ll find your own way, one step at a time.

—Your Future Self