fidzu : belgium

Let's now see how we can connect to our MySQL HeatWave DB System, which was deployed with the OCI Hackathon Starter Kit in part 1. We have multiple possibilities to connect to the DB System, and we will use three of them: MySQL Shell in the command line MySQL Shell is already installed on the […]

15 Dec 2025 12:10pm GMT

My mom as a newborn in her mother's arms, surrounded by my grandparents and great-grandparents.

I never knew my great grandparents. They left no diary, no letters, only a handful of photographs. Sometimes I look at those photos and wonder what they cared about. What were their days like? What made them laugh? What problems were they working through?

Then I realize it could be different for my descendants. A long-running blog like mine is effectively an autobiography.

So far, it captures nearly twenty years of my life: my PhD work, the birth of my children, and the years of learning how to lead Drupal and build a community. It even captures the excitement of starting two companies, and the lessons I learned along the way.

And in recent years, it captures the late night posts where I try to make sense of what AI might change. They are a snapshot of a world in transition. One day, it may be hard to remember AI was ever new.

In a way, a blog is a digital time capsule. It is the kind of record I wish my great grandparents had left behind.

I did not start blogging with this in mind. I wrote to share ideas, to think out loud, to guide the Drupal community, and to connect with others. The personal archive was a side effect.

Now I see it differently. Somewhere in there is a version of me becoming a father. A version trying to figure out how to build something that lasts. A version wrestling, late at night, with technology changes happening in front of me.

If my grandchildren ever want to know who I was, they will not have to guess. They will be able to hear my voice.

If that idea feels compelling, this might be a good time to start a blog or a website. Not to build a large audience, but just to leave a trail. Future you may be grateful you began.

15 Dec 2025 12:10pm GMT

Today marks exactly 25 years since I registered amedee.be. On 12 December 2000, at 17:15 CET, my own domain officially entered the world. It feels like a different era: an internet of static pages, squealing dial-up modems, and websites you assembled yourself with HTML, stubbornness, and whatever tools you could scrape together.

I had websites before that-my first one must have been around 1996, hosted on university servers or one of those free hosting platforms that have long since disappeared. There is no trace of those early experiments, and that's probably for the best. Frames, animated GIFs, questionable colour schemes… it was all part of the charm.

But amedee.be was the moment I claimed a place on the internet that was truly mine. And not just a website: from the very beginning, I also used the domain for email, which added a level of permanence and identity that those free services never could.

Over the past 25 years, I have used more content management systems than I can easily list. I started with plain static HTML. Then came a parade of platforms that now feel almost archaeological: self-written Perl scripts, TikiWiki, XOOPS, Drupal… and eventually WordPress, where the site still lives today. I'm probably forgetting a few-experience tends to blur after a quarter century online.

Not all of that content survived. I've lost plenty along the way: server crashes, rushed or ill-planned CMS migrations, and the occasional period of heroic under-backing-up. I hope I've learned something from each of those episodes. Fortunately, parts of the site's history can still be explored through the Wayback Machine at the Internet Archive-a kind of external memory for the things I didn't manage to preserve myself.

The hosting story is just as varied. The site spent many years at Hetzner, had a period on AWS, and has been running on DigitalOcean for about a year now. I'm sure there were other stops in between-ones I may have forgotten for good reasons.

What has remained constant is this: amedee.be is my space to write, tinker, and occasionally publish something that turns out useful for someone else. A digital layer of 25 years is nothing to take lightly. It feels a bit like personal archaeology-still growing with each passing year.

Here's to the next 25 years. I'm curious which tools, platforms, ideas, and inevitable mishaps I'll encounter along the way. One thing is certain: as long as the internet exists, I'll be here somewhere.

15 Dec 2025 12:10pm GMT