Hello there!I used to be a full time VFX artist working as compositor, 3D artist, producer and supervisor.
These days I am mostly home-bound due to health reasons, so my focus is mostly on tending to my family as the resident cook and doing the occasional remote work for film and TV projects.
You can find my work history on IMDB or LinkedIn and I do have a rather old showreel on Vimeo. Apart from that, this is my online home. Feel free to get in touch via email or on Micro.blog.
📷 Micro Blog Photo Challenge Day 28: Ephemeral
Osteria Scuderia. 📍
Enjoying a nice summer day with some Spaghetti Carbonara and a glass of bitter lemon.
I really like GitKraken as my daily Git application. Check it out: Get GitKraken at 50% off
Looking for ideas
I had my cataract surgery this afternoon and I’m not allowed to read or watch anything on TV or my iPad for three days. I’m already feeling somewhat at a loss. I’m looking for ideas of what to do that won’t strain my eyes and also won’t strain my body too much, since I cannot lift heavy weights, do sports, or engage in any other strenuous activities that would increase my blood circulation or blood pressure too much.
That wasn‘t so bad. Only an hour later and I have checked off all five doctor calls.
Ah the joy of trying to get a doctors appointment in Germany on a Monday morning. Sadly, I have to reach five doctors this morning.
I finally caved and paid for a month of Claude Pro for the work on my iPad app. It should come out cheaper then using API calls for vibe coding.
Why I Embraced AI Assisted Writing for my Blog
The Old Way Wasn’t Working
I’ve always been a private blogger. No schedule. No pressure. Just me writing when inspiration strikes.
That used to be enough.
But life has a way of changing the game on you. When kidney issues landed me on dialysis, everything shifted. The energy I once had for longer writing sessions? Gone. The focus needed for those longer posts I loved crafting almost 15 years ago? Scattered.
I’d sit down with brilliant ideas bouncing around in my head. But translating them into coherent, engaging posts felt like pushing a boulder uphill. The gap between what I wanted to say and what I could actually produce became this frustrating chasm.
Writing stopped being joy. It became work.
The Unexpected Journey to AI
My path to AI-assisted writing didn’t start with writing at all.
It began with images. MidJourney caught my attention first - the idea of creating visuals from text descriptions fascinated me. I’m a coder at heart, so the concept of prompt engineering felt natural.
From there, curiosity led me to ChatGPT. Just playing around. Testing limits. Seeing what this AI thing could actually do.
TypingMind entered the picture as a better interface for managing these AI conversations. But the real breakthrough came when I discovered Anthropic’s Claude models. Something about Claude’s responses felt more… human. More collaborative.
That’s when I started thinking: if AI can help with images and casual conversations, maybe it can help with the writing that’s become so challenging.
What AI Actually Does for My Blog
Here’s what people get wrong about AI writing assistance. They think it’s about replacing the writer.
It’s not.
For me, AI bridges the gap between having ideas and having the energy to execute them properly. It’s like having a research assistant, writing partner, and editor all rolled into one - but one who never gets tired when I need to take breaks.
The AI handles the heavy lifting of research. It pulls current facts, finds relevant examples, and organizes information in ways that make sense. When writer’s block hits (and with health challenges, it hits more often), the AI helps me push through by generating different angles or approaches I hadn’t considered.
But here’s the key: I’m still driving the process. Every idea comes from me. Every direction change is my call. The AI just helps me get there without burning through the limited energy I have each day.
Since embracing this approach, I’ve published more than I have in years. Not because I have a schedule to maintain, but because writing is enjoyable again.
Keeping It Real
Let me be crystal clear about something: if a post doesn’t sound like me, it doesn’t get published.
Period.
The AI might help craft sentences or organize thoughts, but every published word has to pass my authenticity test. I work with the AI through multiple iterations, adjusting tone, refining arguments, and polishing until it genuinely feels like something I would write.
This isn’t about tricking readers or taking shortcuts. It’s about having the tools to express my actual thoughts and ideas when my body isn’t cooperating with my creative ambitions.
The iterative process is crucial. I’ll ask for revisions on specific paragraphs, request tone adjustments, or completely redirect sections that don’t feel right. The AI is patient in ways human collaborators might not be - it doesn’t get frustrated when I need the fifth version of the same paragraph.
My Current Workflow
The Setup That Changed Everything
I built my writing process around TypingMind, which lets me create specialized agents with different skills. My “Professional Blog Writer” agent is like having a writing partner who actually knows me.
The agent comes loaded with plugins that do the heavy lifting:
- Perplexity Search for current research and facts
- Sequential Thinking for structured outlines
- Memoryplugin to remember my writing style and preferences
- TubePlus for YouTube content analysis
- Firecrawl for web scraping when I need specific sources
- Image Search for visual inspiration
From Idea to Published Post
My process is surprisingly simple now. I start with just a topic idea or maybe a short summary of what’s bouncing around in my head. Nothing fancy.
The AI immediately pulls up research, creates an outline, and we go back and forth until it feels right. Sometimes that’s two exchanges. Sometimes it’s ten. Depends on the complexity and how clear my initial thoughts were.
Then comes the actual writing. Here’s where the Memory Plugin really shines - it usually nails my writing style on the first or second attempt because it remembers how I like things phrased, my sentence patterns, even my weird quirks.
The Back-and-Forth Dance
When something doesn’t feel right, I’m specific: “Make this section more conversational” or “This paragraph is too formal for my voice.” The AI adjusts, and we keep refining until I hit that moment where I think, “Yes, this sounds like me.”
The whole thing outputs in Markdown, so I just copy-paste into my blogging software. No reformatting headaches.
Why This Works for Me
The energy I used to burn on research and first drafts now goes into the creative refinement. I’m collaborating rather than grinding. And because the AI learns my style over time, each post gets easier to perfect.
Looking Forward
The future of AI-assisted blogging isn’t about replacing writers. It’s about amplifying what they are already good at while compensating for their limitations - whether those are time, energy, health, or simply the occasional creative block.
For bloggers dealing with similar challenges, my advice is simple: start small. Pick one aspect of your writing process that frustrates you most and see if AI can help with that specific piece. Don’t try to revolutionize everything at once.
The key is maintaining control. The AI is a tool, not a replacement. Your voice, your ideas, your standards - those don’t change. What changes is having the support to express them even when life throws curveballs.
I’m more excited about blogging now than I’ve been in years. Not because AI does the work for me, but because it helps me do the work I want to do, even when my body isn’t fully cooperating.
And honestly? That’s made all the difference.
This post was written with the assistance of Claude AI through TypingMind, following my usual collaborative process of research, outlining, drafting, and refinement until it properly captured my voice and experience.
From 10 Meters to 1.5 Kilometers
Eight weeks ago, I had open kidney surgery. After being bedridden for most of my three and a half week hospital stay, that final week felt like a triumph.
I’d graduated from assisted walking to making it down the hospital floor and back on my own. By discharge day, I was walking the entire floor independently. I felt confident. Ready to get back to normal life.
That confidence lasted exactly ten meters outside the hospital.
Ten meters from my front door, I needed a thirty-second break. Just ten meters. The same distance I’d been covering easily in the hospital corridors suddenly felt impossible. After feeling so capable walking those hospital floors, I felt like I’d run a marathon.
By the end of that first day home, I’d managed maybe thirty or forty meters total before admitting complete defeat. The difference between hospital walking and real-world walking hit me like a wall.
Here’s what I didn’t understand then. Hospital floors are designed for recovery. They’re flat, climate-controlled, with handrails and places to rest every few meters. The real world has curbs, uneven pavement, weather, and distances that actually matter. Walking a hospital corridor doesn’t prepare you for walking to your mailbox.
The medical reality is pretty straightforward, but no one really prepares you for the psychological whiplash. After weeks of bed rest followed by successful hospital walking, you think you’re ready. Then you discover that three and a half weeks of lying still, even with that final week of corridor walking, has fundamentally changed what your body can handle.
Those first few days home were a study in humility I never wanted to take. Each day I’d try to walk a little further. Some days I managed it. Other days I didn’t. The frustrating part wasn’t just the physical limitation—it was accepting that my hospital confidence had been completely misplaced.
I started tracking my progress. Not with meters or fancy apps, but with houses. How many houses down the street could I make it before needing a breather? Before I had to turn around? These landmarks became my measuring stick. When my confidence was shattered, making it one house further was concrete proof I was still getting better, even if it didn’t feel like it.
The breakthrough came gradually, then suddenly. Around week four post-surgery, I realized I wasn’t counting steps anymore. Week six, I was walking around the block. Week seven, I made it to the local park and back.
Yesterday, I walked 1.5 kilometers in thirty minutes without stopping once. I held a conversation the entire time. Eight weeks after surgery, four and a half weeks after that humbling ten-meter reality check.
What strikes me most isn’t just the physical progress. It’s how hospital walking creates false confidence that real-world recovery quickly corrects. Before surgery, walking was just transportation. Now it’s proof that my body works outside controlled environments. Each step feels like a small victory over both the surgery and that initial confidence crash.
The research says most open surgery patients don’t hit these milestones until week ten or twelve, especially after extended hospital stays. That feels good to hear, but it also makes me realize how misleading hospital walking can be. Your real recovery timeline starts when you leave the building.
If you’re starting your own walking recovery after major surgery and hospitalization, here’s what I wish someone had told me. Hospital walking is just the beginning. Don’t let that final week of corridor confidence fool you into thinking you’re ready for the real world. You’re not, and that’s completely normal.
Track everything once you’re home. Write down distances, times, how you felt. After that initial confidence crash, the numbers become your proof of progress when your brain tells you you’re moving backwards.
Don’t compare your home walking to your hospital walking. They’re completely different activities requiring different energy levels and skills. Hospital floors are recovery training wheels. Real-world walking is the actual test.
Consistency beats intensity every single time. I walked every day after discharge, even if it was just to the mailbox. Those tiny daily efforts compound faster than sporadic longer attempts. Your body needs to relearn movement in real environments, not just controlled hospital corridors.
Bad days will happen. Last week I had a terrible walking day where everything felt harder than usual. I questioned whether I was actually improving or just fooling myself. The next day I walked further than ever before. Recovery after that kind of confidence crash isn’t linear.
The mental side of this recovery taught me things I never expected to learn. Humility, for one. Hospital walking had made me feel capable. Real-world walking reminded me I was still healing. Both were necessary parts of the process.
It also taught me to celebrate ridiculously small victories. Making it to the corner without stopping. Walking up three stairs without getting winded. Holding a conversation while moving. After that ten-meter wake-up call, these became genuine achievements worth acknowledging.
Looking ahead, I’m still technically in the recovery window. Open surgery patients don’t hit full recovery until month three. That means I’ve got another month of potential improvement ahead of me. The thought is both exciting and surreal.
My new goal is two kilometers by week ten. Then maybe three by month three. But honestly, I’m less focused on the numbers now. The real victory is that walking feels normal again, even outside hospital corridors.
Recovery from major surgery isn’t just about getting back to where you were. It’s about developing a completely different appreciation for what your body can do in real environments, not just controlled ones. Every day I can walk 1.5 kilometers is a day I don’t take for granted.
Eight weeks ago, that confident hospital walking meant nothing when faced with ten real meters. Today, 1.5 kilometers feels routine. That’s not just physical healing—that’s rebuilding trust with your own body one step at a time, in the real world.
This post documents my personal recovery experience. Always follow your doctor’s specific instructions for post-surgery activity and recovery timelines.
Daring Fireball: Seven Replies to the Viral Apple Reasoning Paper
[…] when it comes to these systems [LLMs], I’m mostly just interested in whether they’re useful or not, and if so, how.
That feels very short sighted. If we don‘t solve the alignment problem now, it will be too late when we do get to AGIs.
The Productivity Conversation I Didn't Expect to Have
I sat down to write about productivity. Instead, I accidentally solved my productivity problem.
It started with a simple request. I wanted to turn my struggles with overwhelm and chronic illness into a blog post. Multiple interests pulling me in different directions, dialysis eating up twelve hours a week, YouTube consumption replacing creation - the usual productivity paradox.
You read more about it here.
But something unexpected happened during the conversation with my AI writing assistant. What began as research for a blog post became a real-time case study in how productive conversations actually work.
The Original Problem
The setup was familiar to anyone who’s ever felt overwhelmed by their own interests. I love coding, cooking, RPGs, fitness, reading. My wife has projects that need my support. I’m supposed to be working on an iPad app for her. But instead of making progress on any of it, I find myself watching YouTube videos for hours.
I’d even found a video that perfectly explained the problem - how our brains get hijacked by consumption, how creation provides more sustainable dopamine hits, how shifting from consumer to contributor changes everything.
The Habit that forces your brain to stop consuming
I understood the theory. I just couldn’t implement it.
The Conversation That Changed Everything
“What’s your top priority right then?” came the question.
“Probably the iPadOS app, since finishing that would help my wife greatly.”
Simple question. Clear answer. But then something interesting happened.
“Those twelve hours of dialysis per week? That’s actually prime iPad development time. You could queue up iOS tutorials, work on app wireframes…”
“Well, there’s no Xcode for iPad,” I replied. “And my left arm is completely blocked with needles. I can’t move it.”
Sudden silence. Then: “Right, of course there’s no Xcode for iPad. That was a pretty big oversight on my part.”
What Made This Conversation Different
Most productivity advice fails because it’s generic. It assumes everyone has the same constraints, the same energy levels, the same physical capabilities. The conversation became productive the moment my real constraints got acknowledged.
No judgment about not being able to code one-handed during medical treatment. No generic advice about “just managing your time better.” Instead: “What can you realistically do one-handed on an iPad for four hours?”
The questions kept getting more specific:
- “What does your energy level look like after dialysis?”
- “When are you actually at your Mac with both arms free?”
- “What makes this app section so complicated?”
Each question revealed another layer of reality that typical productivity advice ignores.
The Lessons Hidden in the Dialogue
Assumptions get corrected quickly. The Xcode-on-iPad suggestion was wrong, but it got corrected immediately instead of becoming the foundation for useless advice.
Constraints clarify priorities. Once we established that dialysis time wasn’t coding time, it became clear that the real development work had to happen during my four productive in-between days.
Specificity beats generality. “Work on the app” is overwhelming. “Identify the next three concrete actions for the app” is actionable.
Questions matter more than answers. The breakthrough didn’t come from advice. It came from questions that helped me see my situation more clearly.
The Meta-Lesson
Here’s what I realized: the conversation itself was demonstrating the productivity principle I needed to learn.
Instead of consuming more productivity content, I was actively working through my specific situation. Instead of generic advice, I was getting targeted questions. Instead of feeling judged for my limitations, I was finding ways to work with them.
The conversation was creation, not consumption. It was collaborative problem-solving in real time.
The Breakthrough Moment
The real breakthrough came when we identified that the missing section of the app wasn’t just technically complicated - it was “lots of different pieces.” Suddenly the overwhelm made sense. It wasn’t one elegant problem to solve, but fifteen mini-features that all needed to connect.
“What if you just listed all the different pieces first? Not designing them, not coding them - just creating an inventory.”
That’s when it clicked. The paralysis wasn’t about not knowing how to code. It was about not knowing where to start when everything felt connected to everything else.
What This Means for Productivity
The best productivity hack might be finding someone who asks better questions.
Not someone who gives you a system to follow. Not someone who tells you to eliminate distractions. Someone who helps you see your actual constraints clearly, then works with those constraints instead of ignoring them.
Generic productivity advice is like generic medical advice - it might work for some people, but it’s useless if it doesn’t account for your specific situation.
The real productivity breakthrough happens when you stop trying to fit your life into someone else’s system and start building a system that fits your actual life.
The Ironic Ending
I started this conversation wanting to write about my productivity problems. I ended up actually solving them.
The blog post was supposed to be about the problem. Instead, it became about the solution.
Sometimes the most productive thing you can do is have a better conversation.
That was 90 minutes of fun for the whole family! Highly recommended. And it resets so can be played again or re-gifted.
Went to the city to get a flat cap. Came back with this awesome looking puzzle box.
Cafebar Maximilian. 📍
Out for breakfast with the family. On a non-holiday weekday no less. The decadence!
Pulled in Too Many Directions: When Chronic Illness Meets Creative Overwhelm
I spent four hours yesterday watching YouTube videos about productivity.
The irony wasn’t lost on me. There I was, consuming content about being productive instead of actually being productive. But here’s the thing - I wasn’t just being lazy. I was overwhelmed.
I have too many interests that all matter to me. I love to code. There’s something magical about writing text and making computers do things. I’m supposed to be working on an iPadOS app for my wife.
I love cooking, which means meal planning and grocery shopping - two huge time sucks.
I like working out, though I rarely do it anymore.
Roleplaying games fascinate me. I want to set up the next adventure for friends.
My wife has her own projects that need my support. Then there’s my reading backlog - books, stories, technical manuals.
Oh, and I spend twelve hours a week getting dialysis.
The Multi-Interest Trap
Most productivity advice assumes your interests are frivolous. “Just eliminate the time-wasters,” they say. “Focus on what matters.”
But what if everything matters?
Coding isn’t just a hobby - it’s creative problem-solving that feeds my soul. Cooking isn’t just sustenance - it’s how I care for my family. RPGs aren’t escapism - they’re collaborative storytelling that connects me with friends. Reading isn’t procrastination - it’s how I learn and grow.
The problem isn’t having meaningless hobbies. The problem is having too many meaningful ones.
Traditional productivity gurus don’t account for this. They assume you’re scrolling TikTok for hours, not trying to choose between legitimate creative pursuits. When all your interests have value, choosing becomes paralyzing.
The Chronic Illness Factor
Then there’s the reality most productivity advice ignores completely: chronic illness.
I spend four hours, three days a week, lying in a bed with needles in my left arm. I can’t move that arm. I can’t use both hands. I’m physically constrained in ways that make traditional “hustle culture” advice feel like a cruel joke.
My energy fluctuates wildly. Some afternoons after dialysis, I feel energetic. Other days, I’m completely drained. The days between treatments are usually my most productive, but that’s only four days a week at full capacity.
Most productivity experts have never had to plan their creative work around medical treatments. They’ve never had to factor in recovery time or energy management. Their advice assumes consistent daily energy levels that simply don’t exist for people like me.
The Consumption Trap
This is where YouTube becomes dangerous.
When you’re tired, when you’re overwhelmed by choices, when you’re physically limited, consumption becomes the path of least resistance. Watching someone else code feels productive without requiring the energy that actual coding demands. Food videos scratch the cooking itch without the meal planning overhead.
I recently watched a video that hit hard (see The Habit that forces your brain to stop consuming). The creator talked about how our brains crave novelty and dopamine, and social media provides artificial hits of both. But creation provides them in more sustainable, meaningful doses.
The insight was powerful: shift from being a consumer to being a contributor.
But here’s what the video didn’t address - what happens when your ability to contribute is limited by physical constraints? What happens when you have the drive to create but not always the energy or physical capacity?
Adapted Strategies
The solution isn’t to eliminate interests or ignore physical limitations. It’s to work smarter with the energy and time you actually have.
Work with your energy patterns, not against them. My most productive days are the in-between days. Instead of feeling guilty about low-energy days, I’ve started planning for them. Dialysis days are for rest, planning, and light consumption that feeds future creation.
Batch similar activities. Meal planning happens on Sundays. Coding happens in focused blocks on high-energy days. RPG prep gets batched with other reading activities.
Combine interests strategically. What if I coded tools for my RPG campaigns? What if I built meal planning apps? What if I listened to coding podcasts while prepping ingredients?
Make consumption serve creation. Instead of random YouTube videos, I queue up content that feeds my active projects. iOS development tutorials during dialysis recovery time. Cooking videos during meal planning sessions.
Use constraints to make decisions. The physical limitation of one-handed iPad use during dialysis actually clarifies what activities are possible. The energy limitation of post-dialysis afternoons helps prioritize what matters most.
It’s Not About Choosing Less
The traditional productivity advice of “just focus on one thing” doesn’t work when you’re a creative person with multiple meaningful interests. And it definitely doesn’t work when chronic illness adds layers of complexity to your energy management.
The real solution is learning to work with your constraints instead of fighting them. Your limitations aren’t failures - they’re data points that help you make better decisions about how to spend your energy.
I’m still working on this. Some days I still end up in YouTube rabbit holes instead of making progress on projects that matter. But I’m getting better at recognizing when that’s happening and why.
The goal isn’t perfect productivity. It’s sustainable creativity within the reality of the life you actually have, not the life productivity gurus assume you’re living.
Sometimes the most productive thing you can do is take a nap.
My sister in law just held a talk in Speyer.
Schutzhaft im ländlichen Raum 1943/44
If you are interested in Nazi behavior during WWII you might want to check it out.
Tomb of Annihilation for Foundry Virtual Tabletop is out! I’m seriously tempted to grab a copy.