Category: Updates

  • Sunday Reflection: Good Work on Building Barely, But Here

    Sunday Reflection: Good Work on Building Barely, But Here

    Sunday night.

    I’m feeling tired physically and mentally. Physically mostly because today was shoveling day. I spent about two and a half hours this afternoon shoveling, and earlier this morning I spent at least an hour or more doing the first round. Overall we got more than 20 inches and it’s still snowing outside. So yeah. Quite a day of snow. 

    The week felt productive.

    What?

    I shared two articles online. Recorded, edited, published them. Created images for them. Did all the SEO. 

    I also worked a lot on my Chrome extension project, which involves managing YouTube. There isn’t a very good tool in the Chrome Web Store, at least not working the way I think it should, so the objective is to create a tool that really performs. What’s interesting is that conceptually and functionally, it’s not a very difficult problem. What’s difficult is figuring out the architecture and what’s going on inside. It’s sort of mysterious black box stuff. 

    And I’m now at the point where I’m taking the project from ChatGPT over to Google antigravity. With ChatGPT, everything is slowly getting better, but it’s a lot of back and forth.

    I ask for something, get code, set it up, try it, give feedback, ask for tweaks… on and on. Just to get basic functionality sometimes takes multiple hours across multiple days. 

    What’s interesting about Antigravity is they have a working agent system that, if given the right instructions, can perform tasks autonomously without human intervention. It can write code, test it, figure out if it works, and spend two hours chasing the solution instead of me sitting here doing the back and forth.

    Big advancement in that regard. I’m damn close to solving the last stubborn piece of the extension, and I’ve been prepping the documentation so I can hand the whole thing to an agent and let it work as long as it needs to.

    Meanwhile, I can watch YouTube, take a nap, or go shovel more snow. 

    advertisement using His Master's Voice

    Even more interesting is how far I got on my voice cloning project.

    Right now I’m very close to having a near perfect mirror of my voice so it actually sounds like me. The objective is: when I get done writing, instead of me having to read it, I can feed it to a folder, have it processed, and out the other side comes an audio file that’s “me” reading the entire text. I think I’m on version 12. It’s been a fascinating process. I learned new terms and what they do to a synthetic voice, including prosody, which has to do with variability in intonation. We don’t talk flat all the time. 

    On that side, things have felt clearer. I’ve finally been able to focus on something and make progress. And I also made huge ground on the Barely, But Here front, sharing more about the journey I’ve been on trying to get my feet on the ground and rebuild my life. It’s not an easy thing, particularly after what I’ve been through and what I’m still going through. Although I will say it does feel like I’m on the tail end of things. 

    I also had A good week of counseling.

    If I think back: did I mask at all this week? Yes, I did. I masked with relatives. I didn’t mask at counseling. That would be kind of stupid. And the masking doesn’t really cost me anything with relatives. It gives me space and quiet and peace, so it’s a cost worth paying. 

    If I strip away all the bits, what feels most essential and core is that I had a very positive week in the 10 hours of therapy I did last week. It’s been intensive, which is why it’s called intensive therapy. 

    So what is everything asking of me going into next week? More sharing for Barely, But Here. I’m going to create an orientation page to help people understand what it is: start here, read this, that kind of thing. Because it’s heavy stuff. People could probably read one. I don’t know if you want to read two. It’s a lot, and it takes time. But you want to point people in the right direction if they’re looking for something specific. 

    I’m also interested in seeing where antigravity takes me next week with Google. And things have felt better depression-wise.

    I don’t feel completely healed.

    I still feel a bit in survival mode.

    I’m still very frustrated about my situation.  

    This is where I’m at tonight.  

  • My Substack is back online with purpose.

    My Substack is back online with purpose.

    Starting up my dormant Substack after 15 years.

    Taking the leap at sharing online after hiding for 30 years.

    Barely, But Here banner

    I’ve fired up my Substack and have decided to use it as the vehicle for sharing things I’ve learned from not-fun places.

    Barely, But Here is a space for honest sharing about living with invisible depression, dissociation, and what remains after the life I spent 50+ years building fell apart.

    I share from lived experience: decades of masked mental illness, the collapse of a 22-year marriage, homelessness, unemployment, financial loss, and the slow work of starting over later in life.

    This isn’t packaged self-help or empty motivation—it’s an attempt to give language to experiences that are rarely named and often misunderstood.

    Through essays, stories, videos, and reflections, I explore mental health, identity, grief, and meaning with restraint and clarity.

    What I share comes from difficult places, but the wisdom is hard-won and real.

    If you’ve ever felt unseen, emotionally offline, or quietly overwhelmed while life kept moving, this will feel familiar.

    Subscribe if you’re looking for context and a voice that speaks from inside the experience—not above it.

    And if you know someone who might benefit from this, please share it with them.


    A reminder: I’m not a therapist.

    This is only my experience being shared. If you’re in crisis, please reach out to the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline by calling or texting 988, or visit 988lifeline.org.


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  • Audio Transcribed into WordPress Draft; Completely Private

    Audio Transcribed into WordPress Draft; Completely Private

    Privacy wasn’t a feature — it was a constraint

    The original idea didn’t start as “an AI project.” It started as a very specific itch I’ve had since 2007/08, right when smartphones began making it effortless to record audio.

    Back then, I was already deep inside the WordPress ecosystem, even custom-coding templates. And I had a simple wish: let me think out loud, then have the text show up in my blog.

    Not because I love transcription.
    Because I love unrestrained thinking.

    Typing is a speed limit.
    Speaking is closer to the velocity of thought.

    When an idea is moving fast, typing becomes friction, and friction becomes loss. So the dream was: record the thought while it’s alive… then let it become editable text later, when I’m calm and focused.

    That idea wasn’t really solvable for regular people at the time.

    Speech-to-text existed, but not at this level, not locally, and not with reliability that you’d trust for a real workflow. If you had access to a lab-grade setup in the late 2000s, you might have been able to stitch something together. Most of us didn’t have that. I definitely didn’t.

    Fast-forward to now: Apple Silicon is absurdly capable, Whisper-class transcription is accessible, and “local-first” tooling has finally caught up with what I was after 15+ years ago.

    And that’s where this project actually begins.


    Free mattered more than anything

    Illustration of a human brain connected to a software dashboard labeled “Premium Mode,” symbolizing frustration with subscription-based automation tools and loss of creative control. WordPress.

    I don’t want a dashboard telling me my brain is now in “premium mode.”

    I wanted this to be free to run forever.

    Every cloud service I tried eventually turned into the same contract:

    • free minutes (daily/weekly/monthly)
    • hit the ceiling
    • pay to keep going

    I’m not morally opposed to paying for good tools.

    But I knew I’d burn through limits fast because I don’t want to ration thinking. If I’m on a roll, I’m on a roll.

    I don’t want a dashboard telling me my brain is now in “premium mode.”

    So the goal became clear:

    Record audio → drop into a folder → get a transcript.
    Optionally: a WordPress draft waiting for me.

    No subscriptions.
    No login loops.
    No cloud inference by default.

    And this line ended up becoming the north star:

    “My intellectual property never leaves my machine unless I explicitly choose it.”

    That’s not paranoia. That’s design.


    Privacy stayed inside my orbit

    I’m in the Apple ecosystem, which made the privacy model unusually clean.

    The audio starts on my iPhone.

    The processing happens on my MacBook Pro.

    The transfer happens via AirDrop, which keeps the file movement inside my immediate environment.

    The audio doesn’t need to touch a third-party server just to become text.

    That matters for obvious reasons (privacy), but also for less obvious ones (creative freedom). When you’re speaking raw ideas, you’re not just recording words.

    You’re recording unreleased drafts of your thinking.
    That’s intellectual property, even if it’s messy.

    So the system architecture became a kind of promise:

    • Local transcription
    • Local automation
    • Local storage
    • And publishing only happens when I explicitly authorize it

    The real breakthrough: a spoken publishing contract

    The most important part of this system isn’t Whisper. It’s the rule that prevents automation from turning into a runaway machine.

    This is the difference between:

    • Automation that empowers
    • Automation that erodes judgment

    So I designed a “spoken contract” that the system must hear before it does anything beyond transcription.

    A transcript only becomes a WordPress draft if I say both:

    • “Meta note” (or “System note”)
    • “Create blog post” (or “Create a blog post”)

    That’s it. If I don’t say the words, the system stays quiet.

    That means I can record:

    • personal notes
    • sketch ideas
    • work drafts
    • private reflections

    …and the system will transcribe them, but it won’t publish them. No accidental posts. No surprises. No “AI guessed what you meant.”

    This is production-grade behavior, not a demo.


    The final stack (and why it’s the right one)

    We started in the Python ecosystem because that’s where most “AI workflow” advice leads. But on macOS, the most durable lesson I learned was this:

    If you want long-running, stable, GPU-accelerated transcription on Apple Silicon, prefer native Metal tooling over Python ML stacks.

    Python is great for:

    • glue
    • orchestration
    • parsing
    • publishing logic

    But it’s not where you want to host GPU inference if your goal is “drop audio and walk away.”

    So the final system has three responsibility layers:

    1. Shell + whisper.cpp: audio → text (Metal GPU, local, stable)
    2. Python (glue only): parse intent + publish to WordPress
    3. Launch Agents: daemonized lifecycle so it runs automatically

    No ML runtime lives in Python.
    No GPU calls happen outside native code.
    No process depends on another being “just right.”

    That’s how systems survive.


    What’s next: formatting, tags, and polish

    Now that the pipeline is stable, the remaining work is refinement:

    • timestamps in the transcript (useful for editing)
    • paragraph breaks based on pauses (conservative guesstimate is: 1.5s+)
    • a word-count footer in the transcript and the WordPress draft; this helps me when I start editing
    • simple auto-tags based on frequency (top ~5–7, biased toward broad concepts but specific when warranted; content and context based)

    None of those features change the heart of the project.

    The heart is still the same thing I wanted in 2007:

    A way to think out loud at full speed… and turn it into text without handing my raw ideas to someone else’s servers.

    And now it finally exists.

  • Hello World—2025 Transparent, Fatigued Rebuild Version.

    Hello World—2025 Transparent, Fatigued Rebuild Version.

    Fifteen years is a long time. Long enough for depression to rewrite every chapter of your life, twist the narrative, and leave you questioning if you’ll ever get back to the version of yourself that once felt whole.

    Even if that baseline reality was energy–consuming, hyperaware fear, and Academy-Award–worthy masking on top of functional depression.

    So, here I am, still in the cyclic nature of depression as I write these words—still trying to right the ship, still learning how to navigate after years of drifting inside and outside the “Depression Death Star, or simply The Dark Side.”

    My last “official” full-time job ended nearly two years ago. And if I’m being honest, I haven’t felt truly content in a long, long time.

    I’ve had depression all my life. At this point, I don’t even know what life feels like without it.

    The irony? That realization is depressing in itself. Go figure.

    It’s a dark, exhausting place to be, and the weight of it is relentless. But somehow, some way, I keep going. I create. I put things out into the world, even when it feels impossible.

    And for someone who’s spent a lifetime as a neurodivergent, MDSI, INFJ, that’s nothing short of a solar eclipse miracle on the tip of the North Pole while wearing a bathing suit in January.

    Looking back, one of my biggest regrets is not chronicling the things I’ve worked on over the years. I’ve spent over a quarter of a century online, thirty years to be precise—creating, designing, building—and yet, I failed to document so much of it.

    Likewise, I didn’t catalog the process, the struggles, the breakthroughs.

    And now, I wish I had.

    How amazing would it be to scroll through a personal archive of projects, lessons, failures, wins—an entire career mapped out in real-time, across decades? 

    I do have the present moment. I’m alive. And as long as I am, I can share my work, my thoughts, my struggles. So, I’m doing that now. These words are proof.

    For the past few years, I’ve been trying to reconnect with my roots as an artist. I won a statewide crime-fighting poster contest in 5th grade culminating in a Fine Arts degree, painting concentration—and having one of my paintings added to my college’s permanent art collection.

    Back in college, I painted like a madman, pouring everything I had into my work. Then the Internet came along the year I graduated from college—1991—and design took over my life. It consumed me, swallowed me whole.

    And before I knew it, I had gone decades without making what I would truly call art.

    That’s beginning to change. Slowly.

    It’s taken time to rewire my brain, to make space for creative ideas to return after a two-year absence.

    Time to remind myself that I’m allowed to create for the sake of creation—not just for work, not just for survival.

    And now, as I rebuild, I’m weaving everything together—a website, a YouTube channel, and a podcast.

    These aren’t just separate projects; they’re pieces of the same puzzle. They’re reflections of the larger journey I’m on.

    The weirdest part? I’ve been working my ass off for two years, and yet, there’s still not much to show for it online.

    It’s the silent grind, the unseen effort, the endless trial and error.

    The results don’t always come fast. Sometimes, they don’t come at all. But that’s the gamble.

    The only thing I can do is keep showing up. Keep creating. Keep pushing toward something bigger, even if I don’t know exactly what that something is yet.

    None of us do, really.

    Every project, every idea, every dream—it’s all a leap of faith.

    The only thing that matters is having the cojones to put yourself out there and the consistency to keep delivering, keep going.

    No clue. And that’s okay.

    For now, I’m here. I’m doing the work. I’m embracing the unknown and trying my best to turn years of struggle into something meaningful.

    Here’s to whatever comes next!

    Until then, be well.