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For the first time that I can remember I see ordinary people everywhere are unhappy with windows. In XP through win8 days I'd see people complaining about one crash here or there, but most of the times you had to be more experienced to notice why windows sucks.
Now, this week I already heard three complaints of people wanting to back to windows 7.
And I feel so happy... I feel waves of joy growing in me, as I burst in a sarcastic, obscure laughter.
Why do?
Because somewhere deep inside I hate windows.
Not becausebthe great amounts of frustration I used to have with it. But because it's so crazy I don't even consider it an OS, but rather a patchwork.
Microsoft's code base must be so fucked up they don't even know what to it with anymore.
That's my idea at least.
Buy it's good to see ordinary people are getting fed up of windows. This might be a way one of my dreams will come true, the day which Microsoft will not be able to maintain Windows anymore, and I think it's not more than ten years until we reach this day.
As a final result, if one day windows really gets to die, I want to be present, but not unnarmed, so I can shoot it at least 15 times, just to make sure this piece of crap is already dead.
Bye2 -
Laptop has died. This is probably a significant blocker to development...
Oh well time to buy a new one I guess!1 -
Okay this is 3.30 AM . Just woke up from bad geeky dreams. My heart is pounding so fast that I could nose bleed and I can't sleep as I am remembering I had the same dream last night.
Dream was about : me being astronaut. Everything was usual. From rocket launch to be in space. Scary part was my ship in orbit of moon.
Seeing dead land from that height chocked me. Imagine you are looking out of the window and all you see a big grey land and pitch black in background. Realising there is no one out there was spooky.
The scary part was I launched some satellite but crash on surface. It was scary seeing something going smaller every time. Crashing on deserted land was one plus on adding fear.
Then my ship leave the orbit (from the reverse shock of that satellite dittachment ) and it flow away in the vastness of space......
Away from the moon and away from the earth in long loneliness.
I wish I could erase this from my memory but I am not gonna watch space exploration video anymore.
I got to say, landing on moon is one thing but being out there knowing one accident and you will be forever there. You need balls to be on such missions.4 -
Not posting as often lately because my childhood dream — a Nintendo DSi — finally arrived, in time for my birthday. More of a gift to that teenage boy who’s dead now than to his older trans female counterpart, but still.
Been playing Pokémon HeartGold, enjoying my life, all due to things improving at work & medication cumulative effect kicking in. Finally.
Without burning internal pain, a poet ceases to be a poet. I rarely write now. I still have wild dreams, and I write down snippets for them not to be lost when I’m properly awake, but I just… don’t have that strong of an urge to share them here. Maybe I’m not as dependent on someone else’s validation anymore.
I’m planning to team up with someone who can draw, so we can make zines, as suggested by you. If you can draw — let’s talk!2 -
- Remake all my hacky products and finally make those adjustments and improvements I always forget about. (A shitton of maintenance that I always YOLO my way through)
- Potentially finally give digital drawing and design a go as a second career (if money permits, also)
- Move to middle of Asia, dead center of Kazakhstan or wherever there are gypsy tribes, learn their language and teach their kids about computers and robots and make a lot of products that'd make a gypsy's life easier. Or rather, create a modern gypsy life that does not override their traditional ways, rather integrates with it. (This is one of my dreams, which I know will never come true. Gypsies and nomads do settle more and more each year and their culture is basically going extinct. Plus, govts around the world dislike them greatly)
- Do a lot more research projects in robotics. Literally make everyday robotic items and then sell them. (with a sprinkle of AI/ML, that is)
All the above would also need lots of money and effort tho. -
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The moment my Bitcoin wallet froze mid-transfer, stranding $410,000 in cryptographic limbo, I felt centuries of history slip through my fingers. That balance wasn’t just wealth; it was a lifeline for forgotten libraries, their cracked marble floors and water-stained manuscripts waiting to breathe again. The migration glitch struck like a corrupted index: one second, funds flowed smoothly; the next, the transaction hung “Unconfirmed,” its ID number mocking me in glowing red. Days bled into weeks as support tickets evaporated into corporate ether. I’d haunt the stacks of my local library, tracing fingers over brittle Dickens volumes, whispering, “I’m sorry,” to ghosts of scholars past. Then, Marian—a silver-haired librarian with a crypto wallet tucked beside her ledger found me slumped at a mahogany study carrel. “You’ve got the blockchain stare,” she murmured, pressing a Post-it into my palm.
Salvage Asset Recovery. “They resurrected my nephew’s Ethereum after a smart contract imploded. Go.”
I emailed them at midnight, my screen’s blue glare mixing with moonlight through stained-glass windows. By dawn, their engineers had dissected the disaster. The glitch, they explained, wasn’t a hack but a protocol mismatch, a handshake between wallet versions that failed mid-encryption, freezing funds like a book jammed in a pneumatic tube. “Your Bitcoin isn’t lost,” assured a specialist named Leo. “It’s stuck in a cryptographic limbo. We’ll debug the transaction layer by layer.”
Thirteen days of nerve-shredding limbo followed. I’d refresh blockchain explorers obsessively, clinging to updates: “Reverse-engineering OP_RETURN outputs…” “Bypassing nonce errors—progress at 72%...” My library blueprints, quotes for climate-controlled archives, plans for AR-guided tours sat untouched, their ink fading under my doubt. Then, on a frostbitten morning, the email arrived: “Transaction invalidated. Funds restored.” I watched, trembling, as my wallet repopulated $410,000 glowing like a Gutenberg Bible under museum lights.
Salvage Asset Recovery didn’t just reclaim my Bitcoin; they salvaged a bridge between past and future. Today, the first restored library stands in a 19th-century bank building, its vault now a digital archive where blockchain ledgers track preservation efforts. Patrons sip fair-trade coffee under vaulted ceilings, swiping NFTs that unlock rare manuscript scans, a symbiosis of parchment and Python code.
These assets are more than technicians; they’re custodians of legacy. When code fails, they speak its dead languages, reviving what the digital world dismisses as lost. And to Marian, who now hosts Bitcoin literacy workshops between poetry readings, you were the guardian angel this techno-hermit didn’t know to pray for.
If your crypto dreams stall mid-flight, summon Salvage Asset Recovery. They’ll rewrite the code, rebuild the bridge, and ensure history never becomes a footnote. All thanks to Salvage Asset Recovery- their contact info
TELEGRAM---@Salvageasset
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