The author proposes using an inexpensive single‑board computer—specifically a Raspberry Pi 4 kit costing under $200—as a practical development machine that forces efficient coding; he explains how such a slow system reveals performance bottlenecks (e.g., CPU fan noise) and encourages writing code that processes data in streams or with in‑memory caches, citing examples from Node.js stream processing, XML databases, and Java crashes to illustrate the need for lightweight solutions. He then outlines a distributed-processing pattern using ZeroMQ and many Raspberry Pi Zeros, showing how scaling can be achieved by adding more machines, and concludes that mastering efficient code through self‑education not only saves money but also positions one as a valuable developer capable of building competitive systems.

In the post, the writer reflects on creative growth, arguing that each new artwork should surpass its predecessor, and stresses how a comprehensive, real‑life education—encompassing digital art, design, programming, 3D modeling, circuit design, music composition, and applied philosophy—is essential for young people to shape the future. He presents integrated subjects such as math framed within drone design and generative art, noting that true learning emerges from contextualized knowledge rather than isolated facts. The writer frames self‑education as a lifelong quest of reading thousands of books (and even writing new ones), envisioning it as the means by which individuals can build tomorrow’s world with long‑term vision and become lovers of wisdom.

The post argues that cultural progress hinges on embracing narrated books from leading intellectuals; by learning through these works—repeatedly and reflectively—people can absorb the best ideas while shedding outdated ones. It stresses that education, not mere tradition, drives growth, and that a personal library of powerful narratives equips individuals to resist deception and manipulation. In essence, continuous study of transformative books enriches culture, unites it with global wisdom, and safeguards it against exploitation.

The post argues that many of society’s systems—grades, borders, wars, prisons, schools—are mere games or rituals that mask underlying problems such as poverty and miscommunication. It suggests simple fixes like universal basic income and better education but claims we still pretend the current systems are working. To break out of these “games,” it encourages personal initiative: start learning programming, digital arts, and entrepreneurship from high‑school years, build small startups until you find one that works, then grow your skills and knowledge. The author sees this as a quest for authenticity, urging readers to write books, keep learning, and dedicate themselves to self‑education so they can “grow all the way up” and become great beings.

The post explains the “fence‑post” problem that arises in programming when counting elements of a list (or array) and using zero‑based indices. By walking through an example with three apples, it shows how to set up a for‑loop: initialize the counter at 0, use the condition “counter < array.length”, and increment the counter each iteration; this yields counters 0, 1, 2 and stops before reaching 3, which is the correct loop boundary. The author also discusses common mistakes such as using “≤” instead of “<” or starting at 1, and notes that while some libraries choose to expose a one‑based page number for convenience, the underlying code should still be zero‑based for consistency. In short, the article illustrates why programmers must remember that array indices begin at 0 and loop conditions should reflect that fact.

The author argues that the traditional school system relies on rigid pre‑requisite classes, timed lectures, and rote memorization designed for state tests rather than genuine learning, so teachers can easily earn salaries by moving students through a fixed sequence of facts. He claims real education should be driven by student curiosity, project work, and flexible, hands‑on experiences—like building 3D printers or creating music—that let learners discover concepts naturally. The post calls for abandoning strict subject divisions and allowing students to pursue interests at their own pace, suggesting that true learning happens when teachers act as facilitators rather than schedulers of memorization.

The author reflects on human nature as an inherent drive toward growth, safety, and self‑education, arguing that wars, poverty, and weak schooling systems have thwarted the cultivation of true talent. He critiques conventional education for delivering only “noise” and superficial knowledge, claiming teachers often fail to turn lessons into real skills; a programming class should produce a working coder, an art lesson should yield genuine painting ability, and a 3‑D modeling course should culminate in a tangible creation. The post stresses that the responsibility of learning lies with each individual: by actively pursuing curiosity, turning it into talent, and taking ownership of one’s own education, we can become “great beings” and help rebuild a culture where nurture, wisdom, and lifelong learning replace institutional paychecks.

The post argues that learning any new skill—whether a language, programming, or art—is driven by practical context rather than textbook theory; just taking classes produces rote memorization and “gibberish” work, while actually writing programs (or building static site generators) forces deeper understanding and quick mastery. It illustrates this with examples from 3‑D modeling, where having a printer as a concrete tool anchors learning, and digital painting, where using reference images streamlines composition and color work. The author concludes that schools often deliver only shallow context, stifling creativity, and calls for real-world learning environments that yield lasting results.

The narrator begins by recalling how “Mother Nature” invited him into her woodland world, only to return home after days of solitude, reading books and reflecting on his own appearance; he then recounts vivid memories of watching the Hel Peninsula from the Baltic Sea, strolling along the Great Lakes and Nordhouse Dunes, and enjoying nights with seagull companions—his “sea cats” that made the moonlit evenings feel blessed—and concludes that this journey through nature has brought him wisdom, a sense of belonging, and a feeling of graduation as he re-enters civilization.

I started my coding journey with simple visual tools that felt like a board‑game, then moved through a stack of languages—Visual Basic, ASP, Perl, PHP and finally JavaScript—learning each from scratch projects such as a “FormMail” clone and later building drag‑and‑drop workflows reminiscent of Blender’s Geometry Nodes. Along the way I discovered how powerful Gulp’s `parallel()` and `series()` functions are for automating tasks (e.g., resizing images in parallel, compressing and publishing sequentially), and I even practiced with the WarriorJs game where you program a character’s moves via simple method calls. All of this shows that programming can be both playful and practical, turning any task into an automated, often over‑engineered masterpiece.

The post argues that learning is most effective when tailored to an individual’s own pace and interests; formal schooling often fails because it imposes fixed sequences and generic knowledge. To succeed in interviews and real work, one must build functional, exceptional knowledge—especially in software development—by creating personal projects such as in‑memory databases with distributed hash tables, documenting them, writing tutorials, and sharing plugins online. Starting early, a learner should map their curiosities into a mind‑map, iteratively exploring new topics and building side projects that evolve into businesses; this cycle of self‑education yields true expertise beyond rote diplomas.

Each child is a unique creation, and humanity must craft a culture that inspires, nurtures, and educates—an architecture of art where wisdom, not manipulation, guides life. The post argues that wars, borders, and cults are arbitrary tricks that waste time and cause poverty; the remedy lies in simple yet profound ideas: clear, dignified schooling that builds abilities for future generations to fix climate and end war, while abandoning bad ideas, hate, and endless taking.

The poem celebrates humanity’s inherent beauty and freedom, arguing that broken cultures lose their nurturing power while compromises erode wisdom. It calls for unity, growth, and education that enlightens the young without stagnation; poverty is seen as a source of terror and war merely a temporary ceasefire. Schools should be free from cruelty, and the world belongs to future generations—so we must become far‑seeing wise beings.

The post explains that curiosity is simply noticing something new—like learning to use a 3‑D printer—while an idea is what emerges from that curiosity and can be developed into something useful or creative; the author illustrates this with examples such as building a multi‑layer 3‑D printed wallet, telling a “yo mama” joke he claims to have invented, and finally describing his new Lowbrow‑art technique of using kitten head proportions to guide adult portrait drawings. He stresses that ideas are worth recording, nurturing, and never underestimating, because they can bring joy, laughter, and personal fulfillment when turned into tangible projects or artworks.

A young woman from an ancient city, inspired by a beautiful kitten, sought to master art and journeyed to a renowned artistic village where she consulted its wisest man. He instructed her to meditate, but after each meditation the woman returned with newly invented tools—sight‑size, proportional divider, grid method, graphite paper, viewing frame, light box, camera obscura—that gradually shaped modern drawing techniques; yet each invention prompted the wise man to send her back, insisting on simplicity. After many experiments and days of practice, she finally understood that only a simple thumb measurement was needed, defeated the wise man in front of the village, and thus proved her mastery. The tale concludes with the moral that those who impede art—whether by belittling, profiting, or claiming wisdom—will be remembered as fools.

The post explains that starting an art practice by using reference images directly—often called “tracing”—lets you learn quickly and build a personal style through shortcuts and visual pleasure. It recommends beginning with affordable tools like a $50 pen, tablet, and free software such as Krita to access its reference‑image tool and create your own compositions. Once you master laying out scenes from references, you can shift to freehand drawing while still grounding yourself in realistic physics, but also bending reality to invent colors and light. The author illustrates this with an example of painting a politician’s face: study the eyes and laughter from references, then compose the final piece freehand, ensuring harmony and purpose behind each sketch.

The author reflects on reshaping our world by uniting cultures through education, arguing that only by ending global poverty—via universal income banks and free schooling—can people rise from low levels of learning. He stresses the need for a top‑down design that brings all cultures together, uses art to show students what a classroom should be, and believes this educational revolution will lift minds and dissolve borders.

By applying a reference image directly onto the canvas, an artist can create a faithful hyper‑realistic reproduction that serves both as a master study of the subject and proof of their skill. Once this stage is mastered, the artist gains a solid launchpad from which to explore eye, lip, nose, cheek, and hand details through targeted tutorials; these lessons refine positioning and deepen artistic control. As the process continues, the artist learns to simplify shadows and stylize features, transforming detailed studies into memorized faces that can be reproduced spontaneously. This progression—from precise hyper‑realism through simplification to full‑body poses—builds a memory bank of facial features and postures, enabling the sketching of complete scenes and ultimately producing uniquely personal works.

The post explains that art is an innate skill that needs structured practice—much like learning to write or ride a bike—and that tools such as ruled paper, grids, and proportional dividers help beginners stay on track; it also encourages using free open‑source programs (e.g., Krita) for color picking and image references so you can learn to mix colors effectively; the writer suggests inexpensive yet effective supplies—pencils, canvas or graphite paper, a small projector for tracing images, and eventually a pen tablet—to build confidence before moving into more advanced techniques like 3‑D shading; ultimately, mastering these basics will let you create art that transforms lives and invites others to join your creative journey.

The post argues that many “mentor” artists underestimate newcomers, guiding them on a long journey rather than letting them become equally skilled, and that true art must be free of manipulation, self‑delusion, and lies. The author declares everyone a natural artist and invites those who use art merely to showcase themselves to switch to magic, whose code is clear and unviolated. Digital art, the writer says, should not simply copy life but elevate it by using its full range of tools—3‑D modeling, perspective, shadows—and techniques such as photo‑bashing, color‑picking, and tracing; freehand sketches are just one style. Finally, the post stresses that hand‑eye coordination develops naturally when aided by gadgets, that young people already possess the intelligence to learn art, and that artists should not take the medium away from them.

The author explains why choosing the right reference photo is key for any portrait: a model must pick an image that truly shows her face under good lighting, from the proper angles, and in a way she feels it represents her. He argues that even with 3‑D rigs or many photos, the final choice still needs the model’s approval, otherwise the finished painting will feel wrong to the subject. The post contrasts simple photo selection with more complex photogrammetry, notes how stylized changes can be added after a solid base, and stresses that an artist’s responsibility is to capture the model’s real appearance before adding any idealisations. Links to a title‑image contest and a time‑lapse video are included as examples.

The post is a stream‑of‑consciousness meditation on the human condition, arguing that true learning comes from stepping outside of pain and recognizing how our own missteps become the root of suffering. The author uses art as an illustration: good work fails if it only paints misery, just as war propaganda masks truth. He tells us to “crawl through a tunnel of shit” – i

The author explains that creating art is not magic but a systematic process of navigation through techniques—using reference images, tracing paper, grid methods or digital tools—to learn composition, color sampling, and mixing; practice turns these steps into habits, just as learning to navigate a city. He sees the first “lobby” of art as a place where beginners become perfect artists by mastering fundamentals, then expanding beyond them, and he frames art as a test of worthiness that rewards teachers who bring others into this starting circle so they too can grow. Ultimately, good art is defined not by subjective feeling but by its power to change lives, and new schools of art will emerge to free humanity from poverty and darkness.

The post argues that a painting should “speak”—not with misery, but with meaning—and that its message can be either inspirational or humorous. It suggests blending images with text, stories etched on stone walls, still‑life scenes of books and objects, or punchlines framed by a funny setup (like a cat in a suit) to bring both mood and laughter into the viewer’s day. By using familiar quotes or personal joy as sources of inspiration, an artist can create works that lift spirits and help people balance their lives, even though not everyone will laugh or be inspired. The author ends with links to a “Title Image” contest and time‑lapse video for further reference.