Some memories never fade, only get lost in the well of time.

A father's story while watching forest Gump 6/11/22

I stopped by my dad’s place to say hi. He was watching TV.
He’d been doing that a lot the last few months—a big shift for a man who spent his life doing something.

Anything, really. Making things.
Metal things. Wood things. Rebuilding car engines, rebuilding whole cars, building fences, even building buildings. The list goes on and on.

At seventy-five he’d had neck surgery for spinal stenosis—when the spinal column ossifies and starts pressing against the spinal nerve. Too much pressure causes pain; too much pain and you risk paralysis.

Right after the surgery, he told me he was having vivid dreams of panthers attacking him from behind, biting his neck. “Worst pain I ever felt,” he said.

It made me think of that old joke—God invented the pain of childbirth so a woman would know what it’s like for a man to catch a cold.

Ha.

He said if he could do it over, he wouldn’t. He’d rather roll the paralysis dice.

When I walked in, Forrest Gump was on. As we talked, the scene came up where Forrest is slogging through the jungle in chest-deep water, saying:

“One day it started raining, and it didn’t quit for four months. We been through every kind of rain there is. Little bitty stingin’ rain... and big ol’ fat rain. Rain that flew in sideways. And sometimes rain even seemed to come straight up from underneath. Shoot, it even rained at night.”

We sat in silence watching it play out.
While Tom Hanks talked about the rain from below, Dad started telling me about the time he burned down the mess hall.

“It never rained much when I was in Vietnam,” he said. “Not like they show in Forrest Gump. I mean, it was green—but not that green. It did rain, though. I bogged down a five-ton truck in the mud once. It could turn into a mess pretty quick.

“We’d taken this hill—Hill 972—so we could launch artillery from our six guns. Had ’em set up on the flat top. We were using the anti-rock platforms I designed, and they worked great. Kept the cannons from rocking back and digging big holes. I should’ve patented those when I got back; I’d be a millionaire. Not that there’s much call for that sort of thing stateside. Still, it saved us a lot of digging when we finally pulled out.

“A little further down the hill we set up base—just carved it right out of the jungle. Lived in the middle of nowhere. A little pop-up town.

“We were watching a movie one night when somebody shouted that the mess hall was on fire. Fires are all-hands affairs—you grab whatever’s got water in it and you’re a firefighter.

“Setting up camp was always hectic. The sooner we were dug in, the sooner we could keep our heads down and get on with living in Vietnam.

“Which is why some genius filled up the water cans with gasoline.

“The fire was going pretty good when the call went out. We scrambled everywhere looking for water. Like I said—it was green, but not wet like they show in Gump. Finally someone found a stash of what we all thought was water. We grabbed every single one of those jerry cans and started dumping.

“WHOOSH!

“Gasoline doesn’t burn—the vapors do. Explosively.

“The flames shot up into the night sky. And somewhere in that sudden glow was the dummy who’d put fuel in the cans meant for water.

“Needless to say, the mess was a goner. Those tents weren’t much, but they were the difference between civilization and not.

“Even now, fifty years later, I can still see those flames like it was yesterday.”

---

#memoir #vietnam #fathers #storytelling #memory

How does a writer/poet find readers?

Should I follow the machine's maze, the game designed for us to play? Or post endlessly on social feeds that scream, “Look at me!”? Should I break the bank subscribing to every sales pitch from SAAS (Software as a Service) as my strategy for success? How does one navigate the ever changing landscape of the Internet, buried beneath walled gardens, algorithms, and AI overviews? Or should I optimize and strategize for SEO, but wait, isn't SEO dead?

Should I pay to play to be seen?

I honestly don't know.

But for now, I'll write every day. I'll fill the screen with my words until they stretch across the web, and hope you'll find them to read.

And when you do, please, share me.

---

#APoet'sNote #PoetJaredChristian #Writing

Living with PTSD means my body is always one step away from full-on shutdown. Chronic fatigue isn’t laziness—it’s my system crashing after I’ve spent hours (or days) in fight-or-flight, just trying to keep it together. Most people never see the trigger, because I’m good at looking composed. But when the wrong environment hits, I can get triggered multiple times a day, every day. Each flare can take up to a week to recover from, and it stacks.

Here’s what a bad flare really looks like: It might start with a text or a call that brings up a bad memory, or being around people who don’t respect boundaries. My whole body tenses, and adrenaline dumps like I’m about to run for my life. I can feel shaky, dizzy, sometimes nauseous or outright sick. My muscles get weak, my head pounds, and thinking straight is impossible. Even basic things—like standing up to shower, making food, or answering messages—feel like climbing a mountain. Sometimes, I can’t even talk without effort.

The energy drain is so bad I can barely move. Showers get postponed, and I have to use adult sanitary wipes until I have the strength to stand up long enough. Cooking and cleaning can feel impossible. I do what I can—Effexor, Wellbutrin, and collagen protein in tea help, but nothing is perfect when my body is running on empty.

On top of it, I’m much more prone to dehydration, especially in hot weather. If I get overheated or miss a meal, I might start vomiting repeatedly. It can look dramatic—people think I need a hospital, but usually what I really need is electrolytes, cooling off, and time for my body to stabilize.

Most people don’t realize when I’m triggered because I keep it together on the outside—I’ve had years of practice at composure. But the truth is, the wrong environment can trigger me over and over, sometimes multiple times a day, every single day. The impact adds up. What looks like “functioning” on the surface can actually mean I’m spending all my energy just holding it together. Sometimes I’m still dealing with the aftershocks days later.

It’s hard, because the struggles are invisible to most people. On the outside, I look like I’m just tired or maybe not trying hard enough. On the inside, it’s a war to keep going, one that nobody else can see.

If you know someone dealing with this: • Believe them • Offer practical help (sometimes, that means electrolytes, not ER trips) • Understand that “composure” can hide a lot of pain

This is what surviving actually looks like—messy, exhausting, and very, very real.

#PTSD #ChronicFatigue #InvisibleIllness #SurvivorTruths #Dehydration #SupportMatters

There comes a point in every believer’s journey when the tongue can no longer keep up with the heart. You want to speak, but nothing fits. You want to pray, but words feel empty. You want to cry out, yet all that escapes are tears.

And that’s where God begins to whisper.

Because silence, to Him, is not absence — it’s intimacy. It’s the sacred language of the soul.

If you’ve ever felt too broken, too exhausted, or too speechless to pray, this message is for you. You’ll discover that when words fail, God still hears you.

To feel the full impact of this message, watch the powerful video that inspired this reflection: 👉 When Words Fail, God Still Hears You (Powerful Christian Motivation)

That video explores the divine truth that the moments you can’t speak are the moments Heaven listens most closely.

---

1. When Words Fail, Faith Begins

Every day, millions of people kneel to pray and can’t find the words. They sit in stillness, overwhelmed by emotion, unsure what to say. But according to Scripture, that silence is not a void — it’s an invitation.

Romans 8:26 declares:

“The Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.”

That verse reveals the essence of divine empathy: God hears what you mean, not just what you say.

He understands sighs, reads tears, and interprets pauses. Your silence is holy because Heaven translates it.

Neuroscientists at Harvard Medical School note that human language shuts down when emotion peaks; the brain’s speech centers go quiet as the limbic system floods with feeling.¹ That means the very design of your brain aligns with the truth of Scripture — when emotion overwhelms you, God steps in to carry the conversation.

---

2. Silence Is the Sound of Surrender

Silence is not weakness. It’s strength choosing stillness over noise.

Psalm 46:10 says: “Be still, and know that I am God.” Stillness is not inactivity — it’s awareness. It’s the moment you stop performing and start perceiving.

Theologian Dallas Willard once wrote that “the voice of God is best heard in quiet spaces where human words fade.” That means your silence is sacred ground.

When you sit before God without words, you’re saying:

“Lord, You are enough even when my language is not.”

And Heaven responds:

“Child, I hear you even when you can’t speak.”

---

3. Tears Speak Louder Than Sentences

Psalm 56:8 says:

“You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in Your bottle.”

In ancient Hebrew imagery, storing tears symbolized cherishing deep emotion. God doesn’t waste a single tear — He records every drop.

Science affirms this mystery. Researchers at Yale University found that tears release oxytocin and endorphins, lowering stress and stabilizing mood.² What biology calls detoxification, faith calls prayer.

So when you cry in God’s presence, you’re not breaking down — you’re breaking open. Your tears become liquid worship, the wordless prayer of trust that says,

“Even if I don’t understand, I still believe You’re good.”

---

4. Why God Lets Your Words Run Out

A. To Teach You Stillness

Sometimes God quiets your mouth to open your ears. He wants you to discover that faith isn’t proven by how much you talk to Him, but by how much you trust Him when you can’t.

B. To Refine Your Faith

In silence, motives surface. You begin to realize prayer is not persuasion — it’s participation. God doesn’t need your eloquence; He desires your honesty.

C. To Heal Hidden Wounds

When we stop talking, we start hearing what’s really inside. That’s when the Holy Spirit begins His gentle surgery — identifying fears, cleansing bitterness, and restoring peace.

D. To Reveal His Strength

Moses stuttered. Jeremiah said he was too young. Isaiah confessed his lips were unclean. Yet God turned every limitation into a legacy.

Your silence is not disqualification; it’s preparation.

---

5. The Spirit Prays Through You

Romans 8:27 continues:

“The Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.”

That means the gap between what you can’t say and what Heaven understands is filled by the Holy Spirit Himself.

He doesn’t merely translate; He transforms. Your sigh becomes intercession. Your pause becomes prophecy. Your pain becomes praise.

As theologian N. T. Wright observes, the Spirit “transposes our inarticulate longings into the symphony of God’s eternal will.”³ So when you sit in silence, you’re participating in divine conversation — even without a single word.

---

6. The Battle Over Your Voice

The enemy fears your voice because it carries creation power. Genesis 1 shows that God spoke the universe into existence; the same Spirit now dwells in you (Romans 8:11). That’s why the devil attacks your ability to speak truth, pray boldly, and declare faith.

But even when he silences your tongue, he cannot silence your spirit.

Your quiet trust terrifies him. Your steady peace defeats him. Your silent surrender shouts louder than any sermon.

---

7. How to Worship Without Words

Step 1 – Breathe

Each inhale is a reminder of Genesis 2:7 — the breath of God within you. Use slow breathing to center your mind on His presence.

Step 2 – Listen

Play gentle worship or sit in nature. Let creation preach. Luke 19:40 reminds us that even the stones cry out His glory.

Step 3 – Journal

If you can’t pray aloud, write. Studies from Harvard Health Publishing confirm that expressive writing lowers stress and enhances resilience.⁴ Writing becomes written worship.

Step 4 – Read Psalms Aloud

When your words fail, borrow David’s. Scripture gives vocabulary to the voiceless.

Step 5 – Rest

Silence is Sabbath for the soul. Rest resets your spiritual rhythm so you can hear again.

---

8. The Science of Sacred Quiet

Modern neuroscience continually validates what the Bible has declared for centuries.

Johns Hopkins Medicine reports that contemplative prayer and silence reduce anxiety, slow heart rate, and activate the brain’s prefrontal cortex — the center for peace and focus.⁵ That means when you’re still before God, you’re not being unproductive; you’re literally rewiring your mind for calm.

Physiology and theology meet in harmony: silence heals body, soul, and spirit.

---

9. God’s Gentle Response in Silence

You might wonder, “If God hears me, why is He silent?” His quietness isn’t neglect — it’s nurture.

Like a teacher watching a student solve the problem, He knows when to speak and when to step back. Faith matures in the moments when Heaven’s answer is “wait.”

Charles Spurgeon once said, “When you cannot trace His hand, you can trust His heart.” That’s the posture of mature faith — trusting God’s character more than His volume.

---

10. When Silence Becomes Strength

There’s a beauty in stillness the world cannot counterfeit. Noise demands attention; silence commands awe.

The Prophet Elijah discovered this truth on Mount Horeb. He expected God in the wind, earthquake, and fire — but found Him in the whisper (1 Kings 19:11-12).

That whisper is still speaking. Not through chaos, but through calm.

When your words fade, His begins.

---

11. Turning Silent Seasons into Purpose

God never wastes a quiet chapter. In silence, He forges patience, resilience, and depth.

Think of winter: everything appears dead, yet roots grow stronger underground. That’s what God is doing in you.

When your voice returns, it will carry power forged in the unseen. You’ll speak from healing, not hurt — from revelation, not reaction.

Your silence today is the soil of tomorrow’s testimony.

---

12. A Prayer for the Speechless

Father, I come before You without words. My heart is overflowing, my mind uncertain. Yet I know You understand what I can’t express. Receive my silence as worship. Let Your Spirit pray through me. Translate my tears into truth, my sighs into surrender. Thank You for hearing me even when I can’t speak. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

---

13. What to Remember When You Can’t Pray

1. God understands silence. Before a word is on your tongue, He knows it completely (Psalm 139:4).

2. The Holy Spirit speaks for you. Romans 8:26-27 guarantees it.

3. Your tears have meaning. Psalm 56:8 proves none go unnoticed.

4. Silence is faith in action. Stillness says, “God, I trust You more than my noise.”

5. Your voice will return stronger. Every season of quiet prepares you for one of impact.

---

14. How to Encourage Others in Silence

When someone you love is struggling to pray, don’t pressure them to speak. Just sit with them. Presence preaches louder than platitudes.

Jesus didn’t lecture Mary at Lazarus’s tomb — He wept with her (John 11:35). Follow His example. Let compassion be the conversation.

---

15. Your Quiet Confidence Changes Atmospheres

Philippians 4:7 promises:

“The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.”

Peace isn’t passive; it’s protection. Every time you choose calm over chaos, Heaven fortifies your spirit.

Your silent faith becomes contagious. People notice your peace even when you say nothing. That’s evangelism without a microphone — the sermon of serenity.

---

16. A Final Reflection: Heaven Is Fluent in You

You may never know how many angels move at the sound of your unspoken prayers. But rest assured: none of them go unheard.

When words fail, faith speaks. When silence settles, Spirit stirs. When all you can do is breathe — God is already responding.

So take heart. He’s closer than your vocabulary. He’s the Word that never fails to hear you.

---

📺 Watch the full inspirational message here: When Words Fail, God Still Hears You (Christian Motivation)

☕ Support this ministry and help spread faith worldwide: Buy Douglas a coffee

📖 Watch more faith-based videos and teachings: Subscribe to Douglas Vandergraph

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#ChristianMotivation #WhenWordsFailGodStillHears #DouglasVandergraph #FaithBasedInspiration #HolySpirit #BeStillAndKnow #PrayerLife #FaithOverFear #ChristianEncouragement #HopeInChrist #SpiritualGrowth #BibleTeaching #GodStillListens #TrustGodAlways #ChristianFaith #JesusHeals #ChristianInspiration #FaithThatMovesMountains #PowerfulMessage #GodIsListening

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Douglas Vandergraph Ministries Sharing truth, hope, and the Word of God with a world that needs healing. 🕊️ “When words fail, faith still speaks.”

I’ve been reaching out—old friends, new friends, saints, strugglers, wanderers, and warriors. Phone calls. Face-to-face. Heart-to-heart. Not small talk… soul talk. I’m reforging bonds that time tried to rust. Silver cords, silver threads—whatever poets call them—I call them lifelines. God-woven. God-tethered.

Some people you haven’t seen in years, and when you meet again it’s like the calendar bows and whispers, Welcome back. Others… there’s that holy awkward silence, that wide-eyed pause, until the Spirit Himself slips into the room and stitches hearts together with invisible thread:

Like mind. Like heart. Like faith.

So let me say this without stuttering:

If you get a call, a text, a knock from “little Johnny,” it isn’t because I want something.

I’m not trying to fill a pew.

I’m not trying to bait you into a church service like a salesman with a quota.

Hear me—

I have zero agenda except Jesus Christ and Him crucified.

He said, “I am the light of the world.”

Then He turned around, looked us dead in the eyes, and said, “You are the light of the world. You are the salt of the earth.”

He didn’t stutter.

He didn’t revise it.

He branded it into our bones.

And when two lights meet—

even if one’s flickering, even if one’s dim, even if one’s been hiding under a bushel for ten long years—

the room explodes in brightness.

It reminds me of that old children’s song we used to sing with more truth than we ever understood:

“This little light of mine… I’m gonna let it shine.”

So if I reach out of the blue, if your phone lights up with my name after months or years of silence, don’t you dare think I’m running a church agenda. Don’t think I’m recruiting. Don’t think I’m fishing for anything more than your heartbeat.

I’m just a man

with a flame inside,

trying to let my little light shine

before the darkness gets any ideas.

And I love you—

more than you know,

more than I’ve said,

more than I’ve shown.

Let’s shine. Together.

TW: Mental Health Issues

Earlier this week I was back at the doctors to discuss the old brain box. In September I was, after years of pure, uncut procrastination, diagnosed with Inattentive Type ADHD. I wrote about it detail here. Weeks of form filling, introspection and chats with clinical psychologists followed.

When I was told the craic, the spectre of Autism raised its head in their findings, something I'd never even suspected. However, in amongst the chaos of my brain; the unfinished projects, the self loathing, the addictive need to either do EVERYTHING or rot in bed was the compulsive need for routine, order and time alone. They suspected a combination of both Autism and ADHD – AuDHD; the ultimate good cop, bad cop, mental health duo.

My initial eConsult follow up with my GP was met with a glad handed referral to my local service who currently have a three year waiting list. Back I went to ask for a referral to my psychologist. Amazingly it was agreed, turning three years into ten to seventeen weeks. Still a while, but nothing like the GTA6 delays Gateshead's mental health provision are currently experiencing. I'm hugely grateful that, within three or so months, I might be able to finally get to the bottom of, well, me.

I've been reading the wonderfully insightful Explaining AuDHD by Dr. Khurram Sadiq. As I progressed through the chapters I felt seen. The comorbidity of these two opposing conditions seems to have run rampant my entire life.

It's funny what we put up with in ourselves. When our mobile phone start acting up, we'll spend hours troubleshooting it back to normality. When clothes rip they're repaired or replaced. Sick of the colour of your lounge? Hours will be spent trawling paint and wallpaper brands, creating mood boards and finding matching objet d'art to provide backing vocals to our environment. If only we were as practical, reactive and kind with ourselves.

Why am I tell you this? Well, in truth, oversharing is pretty typical for neurodivergent folk it would seem. But really, it's about honesty. Sharing problems is the first step on the path to putting things right. Without advocating for ourselves, how the fuck are we supposed to have the energy to help others. If it ain't broke don't fix it, but if it is, you need to be the one to take the first step to get it sorted. That might be chatting with a friend, picking up a book or listening to helpful podcasts.

I'm still waiting titration for ADHD medication to start. This is the time when, paired with a prescribing nurse, you trial various pills and potions that help you. I'm knee deep in picking an ADHD coach as well. Someone who can help me create pathways around the myriad of mental blockers I put in front of myself each and everyday. It's all far from a fix; but hopefully, it's a way of living better.

I came across the term ADHD Skill Regression a few weeks ago; the feeling of losing previously learned abilities, such as organisational or time management skills. Since getting my diagnosis my symptoms seem to have hit the nitrous button, exasperating problems to an almost comical degree. But, in my mind, this is far from regression, this is acceptance. Processing this information about myself, about past decisions and actions and, to a lesser extent, mourning what could have been if I hadn't slipped through the net for 45 years, takes energy and mental space; something's gotta give. And that’s alright. Obsessing about it isn’t however and I’ve been looking for something to help divert my patterns of thinking and burn through some of the my excess energy that waxes and wanes.

Yesterday, I found out about the 64 Million Artists January Challenge; 31 days to explore your creativity. Every day in the worst month of the year, you'll be given a creative prompt to stimulate you into creative action. Day 24 will be provided by the dead good Dead Good. You can read more about their mini project here.

Perhaps this challenge is just what you need? Perhaps the very idea of it fills you with dread,. That's OK; sometimes, doing something a little scary is precisely the thing you need to stir the pot and get you thinking differently.

You can sign up for the challenge here.

Change isn’t always good, but stagnation never is.

„Wenn ein Volk verschwindet“

Es gibt Orte,

wo der Wind keinen Namen mehr trägt.

Wo die Schritte verstummen,

weil niemand mehr weiß,

wie man sie gehen sollte.

Ein Volk stirbt nicht in einem Tag.

Es verschwindet,

wenn die letzte Sprache nicht mehr gesprochen wird,

wenn die letzte Mutter

kein Kind mehr in die Welt bringt,

das ihr gleicht.

Die Tasmanier –

ein Feuer,

ausgelöscht von kalten Händen,

bis nur noch Asche übrig blieb,

und selbst die Asche verweht ist.

Eine Genlinie,

abgeschnitten wie ein Nerv.

Die Beothuk –

ein roter Ozean,

der verstummte,

bis kein einziger Tropfen Blut

mehr sagen konnte:

„Ich war.“

Manchmal sterben Völker

nicht durch das Schwert,

sondern durch das Schweigen.

Durch Fremde,

die Häuser bauen

auf den Knochen eines ganzen Universums,

und so tun,

als sei da niemals jemand gewesen.

Doch ein Volk ist nicht nur Haut,

nicht nur Zahlen,

nicht nur Knochen im Boden.

Ein Volk ist Erinnerung,

eine Linie im Staub,

ein Echo, das sagt:

„Wir waren da.“

Und manche verschwinden –

für immer.

Aber manche,

wie die Kurden,

tragen die Berge in ihrer DNA,

und niemand kann Berge auslöschen.

🌳 ZROZENÍ DĚDKA: PUČENÍ ZE STROMU

V Dědolesu se život nerodí z lásky, vejce ani embrya. Tady se rodí z podhoubí ďědas – prdelně mystické sítě, která prorůstá celym Dědolesem. Když podhoubí uzná, že je kraj smutný, les unavený a svět potřebuje další moudrou prdel, vyšle do vybraného stromu signál. Ten signál není vidět ani slyšet. Je cítit. Voní po mokrém mechu, starých větrech a po něčem, co se dá popsat jen jako dědkovský předtušený prd.

🌱 První fáze: Probouzení kmene

Strom při zaslání signálu lehce zavrní. Jeho kůra popraská, zjemní a na jednom místě se začne tvořit vrásčitý výhonek. Není to ani pupen, ani lišejník — je to dědkopuč. Zpočátku jen ťupka; po týdnu už malá šišatá boule. Po dvou týdnech něco, co připomíná nos.

🌿 Měsíční zrání dědka

Dědkopuč zraje přesně jeden měsíc. Za tu dobu získá tvar hlavy, vousů, nosu, prdelních faldíků a malých zárodků nohou. Po celou dobu se v něm hromadí první dech — směs lesní páry, prastaré moudrosti a čpavku. Když se měsíc naplní, dědkopuč se nafoukne do neudržitelného objemu a…

💨 Zrození: tichý PLUP a první novorozeňácký prd

S tlumeným plup! vypadne čerstvě narozený dědek z kmene. Dopadne do mechu, kde zůstane chvilku ležet, v očích mlhu a ve tváři věčný údiv. A pak se stane to, co z něj udělá člena Dědolesa:

První novorozeňácký prd. Krátký, vysoký, nečekaně čistý tón, který lesu oznámí: „Jsem tady. A jsem váš.“

🦡 Kousací rituál jezevce

Ale tím zrození nekončí. Pro každého dědka je zásadní Rituál Jezevčího Kousnutí. Bez něj prdel neroste, nezpevní se a nevytvoří posvátnou prdelní komoru moudrosti.

Dědek je tedy přiveden k jezevci – obvykle starému, lehce nasranému, ale zkušenému kousači prdelí. Jezevec si jej očichá, zakroutí hlavou a pak:

CHŇÁP! Jedno rituální kousnutí přímo do zárodku prdele.

Bolí to. Ale právě tato bolest probudí prdelní růstové hormony a napojí dědka na prdelní energii Dědolesa.

🚫 Co když dědek rituál odmítne?

Občas se najde výjimka. Dědek, který se bojí, prchá nebo se jen prostě rozhodne, že si do prdele kousnout nenechá.

Takový se stává bezprdelníkem. Vyvrhelem. Tvorem bez smyslu života i bez pořádné opory při sezení. Dědci na něj pohlížejí s lítostí a jezevci s nepochopením.

Ale…

🌘 …pro bezprdelníky není vše ztraceno.

Existuje cesta zpět. Temná, podivná, tajemná.

Ale o tom… příště.

Hello, i was a bit longer gone, i made a little break, however, now i will tell you what i made. (Info: For all who don’t know what UART is, its part of the RISC-V Architecture.)

(Short Note, i’m not an expert in anything, i’m learning, i only write about the things i learned and how i interpred / use them in the current Moment. Things also can be simplified for better understanding!)

What I made.

I made a print function in C that allowed me to display strings(Text) on the Screen (currently Linux Terminal, see screenshot below:)

For this i made a print function i can call with a string as Parameter, it goes then to a function that puts the Characters one at the time into a Special Register (MMIO) called UART. I have to check if the UART is ready for my Character with a flag that is positioned in a 5 Bytes offset, there i have to check the 5 Bit if i can send my Character or if i have to wait.

Why is it that important?

I need a way to let the kernel show me what it’s doing — without going through every line in a debugger. So one of the very first things in a kernel is a communication method. The kernel needs a way to talk back to you, and UART is the earliest and simplest way to do that.

Wait, thats it?

Yes, there is not a lot more without going into technical details, setting this up would take me now if i had to re-write it about 5 minutes Max. But a print function alone can’t help that much in some scenarios, i am currently working on a simple printf, but this is for another time.

Thank you for Reading :D

Littleclone.

Gobierne quien gobierne, parece que nunca hay suficientes leyes.

Today honestly I found myself getting depressed again, even though I was productive at work and I should’ve had a relatively good day, I ended up just getting home and wasting time until 930 just squeezing out whatever bit of dopamine I could. I eventually forced myself to go to the gym, and then immediately after an intense set of dead lifts I felt rage and energy. Rage, maybe rage would lift me.

Blir Donald Trump feilsitert i media? Svaret er utvilsomt ja, og der bør media ta selvkritikk. Trump kommuniserer i en uendelig strøm av usammenhengende haranger, tankesprang, absurde løgner og innfall. Media håndterer som regel dette ved å forsøke å finne en mening i galskapen, komprimere budskapet og pakke det inn i et forståelig format.

I omtrent alle tilfeller betyr det at de får Trump til å fremstå mer sammenhengende og rasjonell enn han er. Fenomenet har blitt kalt “sanewashing”. Jeg tør påstå at Trump nyter godt av “feilsitering” i 9 av 10 tilfeller. Skulle man sitere ham korrekt og utfyllende, måtte avisene trykke egne bilag hver dag bare for å få plass til alt, og folk ville sittet igjen med et enda verre inntrykk av den gale kongen i Washington DC, om de da orket å lese seg igjennom alt sammen.

I tillegg gjør den uendelige ordstrømmen fra USAs president at media må overse mye av det han sier. Av og til betyr det også at ekstremt skremmende budskap blir ignorert eller glatta over. Omtrent daglig kommer det utbrudd som ville ført til skandale og riksrett for en hvilken som helst annen amerikansk president i tidligere tider, før USA ble vant til å ha en galning ved roret.

Derfor er det jo ironisk at NRK og BBC nå bøyer nakken for en politisk kampanje fra høyresida som dreier seg om et sjeldent tilfelle av det motsatte – et innslag der Trumps ord er klippet sammen slik at det fremstår litt verre enn det var. Enda mer ironisk er det at det aktuelle klippet ikke etterlater et helt feil inntrykk. Donald Trump oppfordret faktisk til vold den 6. januar 2021, han brukte bare litt andre ord.

Så er det jo kanskje like greit at de mest halsstarrige kritikerne, som Ole Asbjørn Ness, diskvalifiserer seg selv (nok en gang) med absurde uttalelser som avslører hvor langt ute på viddene han er. I denne omgang: at NRKs servile holdning til makt viser hvordan holocaust kunne skje! At høyresidens “moderate” mediehus Minerva stiller opp som ukritisk mikrofonstativ sier vel noe om deres manglende kritiske sans overfor ytre høyre fløy, men det er dessverre ikke noe nytt. I fjor ble Ness kåret til “årets podcaster” av samme avis.

Dessverre tyder mye på at NRK er lydhøre for denne typen useriøs kritikk fra politiske aktivister. Sigurd Falkenberg Mikkelsen legger seg flat på bakgrunn av et fire år gammelt innslag på Supernytt (!). Dette kommer kort tid etter at NRK tok den absurde beslutningen om å livestreame minneseremonien til Charlie Kirk, som ble omgjort til et fascistrally av MAGA-bevegelsen.

Dette handler om å bruke relativt små feil til å forsøke å diskreditere en større sannhet: at Donald Trump har forsøkt å nulle ut resultatene av et demokratisk valg med vold. Dette mislykkede statskuppet burde vært kroken på døra for all støtte til Trump fra folk som kaller seg tilhengere av demokratiet, men dessverre er det mange, også nordmenn, som blei med videre på ferden. Og når sannheten er vond å ta inn over seg, er det best å skyte på budbringerne. Akkurat slik Trump gjør hver bidige dag, ofte uten at media en gang orker å rapportere det.

Join us on Friday 21 November, 17:00-18:30, for an online working session to develop a publishing strategy for the Shared Visions Cooperative. How can we publish collectively? What are cooperative editorial processes? Can we share existing individual assets?

‘One publishes to find comrades,’ the Surrealist writer André Breton famously declared. He meant that publishing is less about spreading a final idea and more about a social and collaborative practice to create meaning within communities. Through publishing, the Shared Visions Cooperative aims to share discourses, ideas, and differences to build a vision for a sustainable cooperative.

Moreover, let’s imagine the economic opportunities of cooperative publishing. A member in Montenegro who has made a political comic can find a proofreader in Belgium, a printer in Portugal, and bookshops throughout Europe, all within the Shared Visions network. The profits of selling the comic can flow back into the cooperative, making this activity economically viable. In short, we can do things together that we could never do alone.

To develop both the meaningful conversation and economic prospects of cooperative publishing, we are organising an online session hosted by Nicolas Galeazzi (SOTA) and Sepp Eckenhaussen (Avans). We will meet to brainstorm and map what is there to share – the assets we already have amongst the workshop participants. These include infrastructures (printing presses, publishing series), skills (editorial, illustration, design), content, and experiences. Based on this overview of assets, we will start building a cooperative publishing strategy.

Date: Friday, 21 November Time: 17:00-18:30 Belgrade/Brussels time Link: https://zoom.us/launch/edl?muid=5b92c68b-de16-4a6d-80d6-11d6bc98b585 [Meeting ID: 924 8394 8618, Passcode: 067338]

No preparation is needed, everyone is welcome.

I am up before the sun today, lying here on the blue sofa with the dogs resting on my chest, listening to Break the Ice by Britney Spears, have you heard of her? It’s from a playlist of my favourite songs, I think.

But that changes with the mood so much that such a playlist doesn’t make any sense for me to have.

The black dog is a great source of inspiration these mornings, he has such a great mood; I have never felt nearly the same enthusiasm to start a new day; before the sun is up, even, I feel absolutely terrible; it’s only through mighty force of will that I pull it together.

He just sat his ass down on my face.

But I am having some coffee now and some time alone with my own thoughts, dogs and Britney Spears.

I’ve been a foster parent to many grown-ups.

I feel the need to get back into the habit of writing regularly. And I can't think of a better way to do it than to take the 100 Days to Offload challenge a second time.

The 100 Days to Offload challenge is simple: publish 100 posts on your personal blog within one year. You can start any time, you just need to do 100 posts within 365 days. It's simple, but it's not as easy to accomplish as you might think.

I started my first challenge in January 2022 and completed it in December 2022 with one day to spare. There was a stretch of several months where I didn't post at all and had pretty much abandoned the idea. But somehow I found my way back to blogging and earned my spot on the Hall of Fame.

I have written with less consistency since then. Much has happened in my life and in the world. And to be honest, I'm in a worse mental and emotional state now. But looking back, the times when I have felt the best mentally have been the times when I was writing the most. I don't know if my desire to write flowed from or contributed to my good mental health, but I want to see if writing helps me now.

I think writing is good for me in a number of ways.

Writing is intentional. It requires focus, effort, attention. It is not passive.

Writing helps quiet the mind and organize thoughts. Sometimes I have so many ideas and thoughts rattling around in my mind it's difficult to make any sense of them or hash them out. Writing is often a way for me to get those thoughts and ideas in print so I can work through them and see if they actually make any sense.

Writing is a good creative outlet. It allows me to express myself. To dream and wonder in print. Making things and sharing them with others brings meaning and purpose to life.

Writing personal blog posts is almost like keeping a journal. Like blogging, I have never been consistent about keeping a personal journal. But I'm thankful for what little journaling I have done and to be able to read old entries and remember and learn. Everything I post in this blog is captured in my personal Day One journal thanks to IFTTT.

So here's to the next 99 posts as part of my second 100 Days To Offload challenge.

If you have a personal blog, would you like to take up this challenge, too?

#100DaysToOffload (No. 101) #writing