Ever struggle to form the right question? I did — about GLP-1 drugs of all things — and what began as a health curiosity turned into a meditation on how we think.
In a world racing toward instant answers (and even Uber hiring PhDs for “digital tasks”), the act of asking awkward questions might be the last frontier of human creativity.

It began in a moment of quiet frustration — the kind that hums behind curiosity before it finds its words.

“If GLP-1 drugs cause weight loss, then surely they mimic some diet, right?”

Simple enough, that is, until I realized I didn’t actually know what I was asking. It wasn’t about food at all. It was about how we come to know things that shape our views, our lives.

Like most people, I often reach for an answer before forming a question. I could have typed “GLP-1 diet plan” and been satisfied with a list of recipes. But sometimes, those are answers that soothe more than they inform. So, I hesitated.

The Pause Before the Search

That hesitation, the quiet pause before typing, was the beginning of my education. I’ve learned that ignorance isn’t the absence of knowledge; it’s the space before language forms. It’s the fog before the question takes shape.

When I’d raise my hand or move to interrupt to ask a question, I’d realize that I was the only one. Still, no one liked asking questions for fear of ridicule. But that’s not the case; most people don’t fear asking questions. They fear asking them awkwardly. They fear being misunderstood, or worse, dismissed.

But awkwardness is the birthplace of learning. It’s thinking happening in real time.

Enter the AI Mirror

I turned to ChatGPT. I typed, a little clumsily:

“GLP-1 drug is based on what type of food diet?”

The answer came: GLP-1 drugs mimic a natural gut hormone triggered by high-fiber, low-glycemic foods—a neat, clinical reply. But what struck me wasn’t the data — it was the structure. Somehow, in articulating what I didn’t know, I had stumbled into a system for how to ask better questions.

It wasn’t about the diet. It was about the architecture of curiosity.

The Framework of Wonder

Here’s what that short exchange revealed: good questions have structure.

1. Begin with the feeling or hunch.
2. Identify the two ideas you sense are related.
3. Choose your bridge word — “based on,” “inspired by,” “affects,” “different from.”
4. Refine until it sounds like something you’d ask a thoughtful friend.
5. Then ask — and be open to the journey.

Easy right? But in a world addicted to instant answers, building that bridge between confusion and clarity is almost revolutionary.

When Curiosity Becomes a Commodity

Recently, Uber announced its pilot program, Digital Tasks, offering drivers and couriers opportunities to complete micro-jobs — tasks such as uploading photos, recording audio clips, or tagging data — all through the same app that once just moved people.

The idea sparked another question: what happens when thinking itself becomes a task? Could Uber one day connect users with PhD-level experts who help them frame questions, analyze problems, or write research prompts — the way drivers now deliver passengers?

It’s plausible. We’re already seeing the early outlines of an on-demand intellectual economy, subcontracted curiosity.

And yet, something about that vision gives me pause. Because the awkward question, the one you wrestle to form, teaches you who you are.

If we outsource that struggle, we risk losing resilience —the very thing that makes us human: the ability to sit in uncertainty long enough for meaning to emerge.

Living Inside the Question

Maybe the future won’t just reward those who know the answers. It will belong to those who live inside the question long enough to uncover what others rush past.

When I struggled to form that first question about GLP-1, I didn’t just learn about hormones or diets. I knew that curiosity isn’t about efficiency — it’s about endurance. It’s about resisting the temptation to click away at the first sign of discomfort.

Yes, I did use AI to help shape my thoughts. But the tool didn’t replace my inquiry; it refined it. It gave me a mirror for my wondering.

The Return to Simplicity

In the end, it wasn’t the elegant scientific explanation that mattered most. It was the awkwardness, the hesitation, the quiet pause before pressing enter. That’s where the learning lived.

Because the actual conversation wasn’t between me and the drug or even me and the AI, it was between me and my own mind — remembering how to ask, how to wait, how to wonder.

So is this a “me” problem? Or have you found yourself in a similar situation?

If yes, when you find yourself rushing toward the nearest answer, pause. Sit in that uneasy silence. And if your question feels a little awkward — perfect. That means it’s real.

The future belongs to those of us who ask awkward questions.