Daniel’s World 2.0: Recalibrated

This week’s been a mix of small victories and minor defeats. I attempted a repair on one of my radios, something I’ve done countless times before without a hitch, but this time, I failed. It’s frustrating, but failures are successes in their own ways sometimes. This one taught me that I need to take the same pride and patience in doing stuff for myself as I do when helping others. It’s easy to get caught up in the “I should already know how to do this” mindset, but even the things we think we’ve mastered have ways of humbling us. On the brighter side, I did have a small win fixing a nice old signal generator. Cracked open the lid (neatly unscrewed and organized, of course), and after some poking around, I found the problem—a fuse that had shattered from being dropped a few times too many. Quick swap, and it was back up and running like nothing ever happened. Always satisfying when a repair turns out to be that simple. Meanwhile, the 3D printer has been running business as usual. Though...

The first few weeks of school have been… interesting.  Year 11 physics, though, has been kind of a letdown so far. I was hoping to work ahead and asked my teacher, but apparently, that’s not allowed (unless you’re someone else in my class, who got handed work from Year 13 without even asking for it). Meanwhile, I’m stuck going over concepts I learned on my own years ago. It’s frustrating, but I guess it’s just another reminder that school and learning are two very different things. The system isn’t really designed for people who actually want to push ahead, which is ironic considering how much emphasis there is on "achieving excellence." But hey, at least the material isn’t wrong, just mind-numbingly slow.. Well, on the flip side, at least I’ve been able to talk to  her  quite a bit still. That always makes things seem better. Probably because of her positive outlook on everything, a pretty stark contrast to my general outlook on things. Call it pessimism or realism, but ...

Most projects start with a spark of inspiration. An idea forms, the excitement kicks in, and before you know it, you’re knee-deep in design files, components, and code. And for a while, everything moves fast. The first 90%? That’s the fun part. That’s when you see progress. When the pieces start coming together. When you can already picture the final product in your hands. But then there’s that last 10%. And that’s where things get stuck. I’ve been guilty of this more times than I can count. It doesn’t matter if it’s a 3D printer upgrade, a Raspberry Pi project, or designing a PCB—I hit a point where the exciting, forward-motion stops, and what’s left is the tedious part. The final optimizations, the troubleshooting, the “why isn’t this working” stage. The part where momentum turns into frustration, and the progress starts to plateau. It’s not just me, either. I’ve talked to engineers—real professionals, people who get paid to design and build things—and they say the same thing....

We’re back, baby! And what better way to mark a ‘return’ than by jumping headfirst into a new project? This time, I’m attempting to build a miniature CW transceiver for 20m —something compact, efficient, and powerful enough to make real contacts. The goal? Fit the entire thing into a mint tin. It’s an ambitious little build, but I like a challenge. There’s something exciting about taking a handful of components and making them do something real—turning theory into a physical, working radio. I could just buy a QRP kit and solder it together, but where’s the fun in that? If I want the “ultimate” portable CW transceiver, I have to make it myself. The Plan: Tiny But Mighty The idea here isn’t to just bodge together some components on perfboard and call it a day. This time, I’m going all-in on designing a proper PCB—laying out traces, optimizing the circuit, and ensuring it all fits into the smallest possible footprint without compromising performance. At its core, this transceiver ...

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything here. I still have things to say, still have projects to work on, but lately, I haven’t had the motivation to do much of anything at all. It’s not that I’ve run out of ideas—if anything, my mind still buzzes with half-finished concepts and future plans. But the energy to turn them into something real just isn’t there right now. Maybe it’s burnout. Maybe it’s just life shifting in ways I didn’t expect, and the feeling that everything isn't the same as it was even just a few months ago.  I always thought I was good at rolling with changes, adapting as things evolved. But lately, the things I thought were the only constants—the things I relied on—have been slipping away, one by one. And for the first time, I think I’ve hit my limit with school just starting up again and reminding me why the holidays was so great for me. Maybe this is my mind forcing a full reset. Maybe I needed this. A pause, a moment to let everything settle before I pick...

Working with old hardware teaches you patience. It teaches you to work within limitations, to make the most of what you have rather than constantly chasing what’s next. It’s a lesson I’ve learned through countless hours spent coaxing life out of aging ThinkPads and repurposing old Raspberry Pis. And lately, I’ve realized it’s a lesson that applies far beyond just tech. I was talking to her about something completely unrelated—some half-formed thought about what I want to do after high school, about all the skills I feel like I need to learn, all the plans I think I should be making. And instead of giving me answers, she just asked, “But what if it’s not about always knowing what’s next?” I didn’t have an immediate response. Because really, I’d never thought about it that way. I like knowing what’s next. I like planning, optimizing, making sure I’m as prepared as possible for whatever the future holds. But what she said stuck with me, because I’ve seen the same thing play out in my ...

People love talking about “future-proofing.” Get the latest and greatest hardware, max out the specs, and you’ll be set for years—at least, that’s the idea. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from tinkering with tech, it’s that future-proofing is a bit of a myth. Everything gets old, and nothing stays cutting-edge forever. But that doesn’t mean it stops being useful. A lot of my most interesting projects—whether it’s learning sysadmin skills, 3D printing, or experimenting with Linux—aren’t happening on brand-new, high-end machines. They’re happening on hardware that’s been around for years. My ThinkPad T470? Built like a tank and still kicking. My cluster of Raspberry Pi’s? Not the fastest things in the world, but perfect for learning networking and running containers. The secret to making progress isn’t having the latest gear—it’s knowing how to make the best of what you’ve got. And then there’s the cost of curiosity. Most of my projects start with a simple thought: “I wonder if t...