Back in 2014 I abandoned WordPress for Octopress. It’s been especially amazing for page load speeds, and I also enjoyed the fact that GitHub Pages are completely free - and I only need to pay for a domain name. Hosting a website can get expensive.

Octopress was a shortlived framework built on top of Jekyll, focused on blogging and designed to run on top of GitHub Pages. Unfortunately the development stopped in 2015, and now, 10 years later, I couldn’t set it up on a new machine due to most dependencies getting dangerously out of date.

I chose to migrate to vanilla Jekyll, since it’s a static site generator which is built on top of simple markdown and HTML files. Jekyll’s been around for some time, and I’m hoping Microsoft won’t be shutting down GitHub pages any time soon.

The whole process only took a couple of hours, and I’d like to document some highlights and lowlights. You might find it useful if you’re setting up a new Jekyll blog, or, like me, still have an Octopress blog that needs migrating.

Fresh setup

I went with a fresh Jekyll setup, by installing Jekyll and running jekyll new blog. I successfully copied over old _posts and images, and ported the relevant parts of _config.yml from Octopress to vanilla Jekyll.

Octopress uses liquid {% img %} tags, which aren’t natively supported in Jekyll. I took the opportunity to convert those to markdown style syntax. I only have a few hundred posts, and I used a Vim macro to convert all {% img /foo/bar.png baz %} to ![baz](/foo/bar.png).

By default Jekyll comes installed with the minima theme, which I found to be mostly sufficient for my needs. I was able to override specific theme files by copying them from gem installation location to my blog directory and modifying them. Turned out to be straightforward and customizable. For example, I transferred the way Octopress pagination looks by modifying _layouts/home.html.

For backward compatbility, I also had to move RSS feed to /atom.xml by modifying _config.yml:

feed:
  path: /atom.xml

I could immediately run the site locally with bundle exec jekyll serve --baseurl="".

Missing functionality

Two major things were missing straight out of the box: archive and category pages.

I grew attached to my archive page, and recreating it only took a couple of minutes. All I had to do is add an archive.markdown page to the site’s root directory:

---
layout: page
title: Archive
navbar: Archive
permalink: /blog/archive/
---
  
{%- assign date_format = site.minima.date_format | default: "%b %-d, %Y" -%}

<div>
  <ul>
    {% for post in site.posts %}
      {% capture this_year %}{{ post.date | date: "%Y" }}{% endcapture %}
      {% unless year == this_year %}
        {% assign year = this_year %}
        <h2 style="margin-top: 1em;">{{ year }}</h2>
      {% endunless %}
      <li>
        <a href="{{ root_url }}{{ post.url }}" itemprop="url">{{ post.title }}</a>
        <span class="text-muted">| 📅 {{ post.date | date: date_format }}</span>
      </li>
    {% endfor %}
  </ul>
</div>

Building category support turned out to be messier and more complicated. I didn’t want to write up a custom solution, and ended up with some technical debt I’ll probably have to address in the future (wink-wink, this will never happen).

I used jekyll-category-pages gem, which worked okay-ish. The instructions on field-theory/jekyll-category-pages are extensive and aren’t too difficult to follow - I appreciated not having to write my own category pages, but I had to:

1. Stop category pages from being automatically added to the navigation bar.
2. Disable pagination on category pages, because for some reason it really didn’t work with jekyll-category-pages.

I also added my own basic category index pages by creating categories.markdown:

---
layout: page
title: Categories
navbar: Categories
permalink: /blog/categories/
---

{% assign category_names = "" | split: "" %}
{% for category in site.categories %}
  {% assign category_names = category_names | push: category[0] %}
{% endfor %}
{% assign category_names = category_names | sort %}
  
<div>
  <ul>
    {% for category in category_names %}
      <li>
        <a href="{{ root_url }}/{{ site.category_path }}/{{ category | slugify }}">{{ category }}</a>
      </li>
    {% endfor %}
  </ul>
</div>

GitHub Pages

While GitHub Pages documentation is extensive, getting Jekyll to work with GitHub Pages took longer than I’d like to admit. Specifically, Gemfile generated by running jekyll new blog misleadingly tells you to comment away the latest version of the jekyll gem and instead use the github-pages gem:

# Happy Jekylling!
gem "jekyll", "~> 4.4.1"
# If you want to use GitHub Pages, remove the "gem "jekyll"" above and
# uncomment the line below. To upgrade, run `bundle update github-pages`.
# gem "github-pages", group: :jekyll_plugins

You don’t want to do that, oh no. Because the default GitHub Pages gem is stuck in the past on the 3rd version of Jekyll (and at the time of writing we’re on version 4), which caused all kind of hidden problems - including the fact that my URL slugs silently weren’t getting generated right. I switched back on the jekyll gem and set up a custom GitHub action to deploy the site:

name: Deploy Jekyll site to Pages

on:
  push:
    branches: ["master"]

  # Allows you to run this workflow manually from the Actions tab
  workflow_dispatch:

permissions:
  contents: read
  pages: write
  id-token: write

concurrency:
  group: "pages"
  cancel-in-progress: false

jobs:
  # Build job
  build:
    runs-on: ubuntu-latest
    steps:
      - name: Checkout
        uses: actions/checkout@v4
      - name: Setup Ruby
        # https://github.com/ruby/setup-ruby/releases/tag/v1.207.0
        uses: ruby/setup-ruby@4a9ddd6f338a97768b8006bf671dfbad383215f4
        with:
          ruby-version: '3.1' # Not needed with a .ruby-version file
          bundler-cache: true # runs 'bundle install' and caches installed gems automatically
          cache-version: 0 # Increment this number if you need to re-download cached gems
      - name: Setup Pages
        id: pages
        uses: actions/configure-pages@v5
      - name: Build with Jekyll
        run: bundle exec jekyll build --baseurl "$"
        env:
          JEKYLL_ENV: production
      - name: Upload artifact
        uses: actions/upload-pages-artifact@v3

  # Deployment job
  deploy:
    environment:
      name: github-pages
      url: $
    runs-on: ubuntu-latest
    needs: build
    steps:
      - name: Deploy to GitHub Pages
        id: deployment
        uses: actions/deploy-pages@v4

Don’t forget to set “Build and deployment source” to “GitHub pages” in the repository settings to actually use the action.

My Octopress blog was set up in a source Git branch, and content was generated into the master branch. I wanted to change that to have the source in the master branch (the action above won’t work without that), and I was able to replace my master with source with the following set of commands:

    git checkout master
    git pull
    git checkout source
    git merge -s ours master --allow-unrelated-histories
    git checkout master
    git merge source

We merge the master branch into source using ours merge strategy (effectively ignoring the master branch history), and then merge that back into master.

Positive experience

All in all migrating to Jekyll has been a great experience, which is a testament to Jekyll community’s dedication to thorough documentation. Knowing that Jekyll is a mature, maintained, and documented project, and that GitHub Pages infrastructure is reliable and supported, provides a sense of stability. I hope this results in Jekyll and GitHub Pages becoming a (reasonably) future-proof platform for my blog. But let’s check back in in 10 years - see you in 2035?

I’ve thoroughly enjoyed Essentialism, a book that encapsulates the simple yet powerful notion of “do fewer things, do them well.” There’s not much else to it. While this philosophy is straightforward, it’s the way Greg McKeown presents and reinforces this message that makes the book truly compelling.

Having Essentialism in physical form proved invaluable. I filled the margins with notes, worked through exercises alongside the text, and took the time to fully absorb the material as I progressed.

Essentialism is not a new concept, but the key takeaway is the author’s focus on truly internalizing the message. “Focus on things that matter, trim the excess” is a simple motto to remember, yet challenging to implement. Throughout my life, I’ve adopted many of essentialist practices in one form or another, from guarding my calendar to learning to say “no” to prioritizing essential projects. However, over time, clutter inevitably creeps in.

McKeown wisely focuses on routines that support the essentialist lifestyle, emphasizing the importance of dedicated time for reevaluation and recentering. He suggests establishing routines that prevent slipping into the frantic “onto the next thing” mentality so prevalent in the modern corporate world.

An analogy that particularly resonated with me is the closet metaphor. While you can declutter your closet once, it will eventually refill with clothes you don’t need. To keep your closet tidy, you need to have a regular time to reevauate your outfits, know where the nearest donation center is, how to get there, and what hours is it open. Similarly, McKeown provides methodologies to regularly reevaluate our priorities, supporting the rigorous process of regularly discarding the non-essential.

Essentialism extensively focuses on routines, practices, and exercises. The edition I read includes a “21-day Essentialism Challenge,” a helpful list of concrete activities corresponding to each chapter. While some prompts, like “take a nap” or “play with a child for 10 minutes” are a bit silly (where am I supposed to find a child on a Tuesday, Greg?), many steps effectively reinforce and integrate the material into your daily life, such as “design your ideal calendar,” “practice saying no gracefully,” or “schedule a personal offsite.”

The latter suggestion, scheduling a personal offsite, left a significant impression on me. It’s time dedicated to strategizing around your personal and professional goals. While I occasionally reflect on my career and life, McKeown elevates this practice into a ritual – a full day focused on self-reflection, planning, and deliberate action.

Essentialism is a helfpul book that prompts the reader to think about the routines one can put in place to change the way we approach life. It’s a reminder that less can indeed be more, and that by focusing on what truly matters, we can create a life of greater purpose, meaning, and fulfillment.

I hope you’ve noticed that navigating to this page was quick (let’s hope that the Internet Gods are kind to me, and nothing stood in the way of you accessing this page). In fact, most pages on my blog - hopefully including this one - should render in under a second. I didn’t put any work into optimizing this site, and it’s not a boast, nor is it a technological marvel - this is just a good old fashioned static website.

If this is new to you - static website is just what it sounds like - static HTML and CSS files, sometimes with some light JavaScript sprinkled throughout. There’s no server side processing – the only bottlenecks are the host server speed, recipient’s connection speed, and the browser rendering speed. Page is stored as is, and is sent over as soon as it’s requested. This is how the Internet used to be in late 90s and early 2000s (with eclectic web design to boot, of course).

I think static websites are cool and aren’t used nearly enough, especially for websites that are, well, static. Think to the last website you’ve visited to read something - maybe a news site, or maybe a blog. Now did it take at least a couple of seconds for them to load? Likely. Did their server have to waste unnecessary cycles putting together a page for you? Most definitely. Now, contrast this with your experience with a static website like this one. Here’s the result from pagespeed.web.dev for this page:

Every render complete in under a second, and I didn’t have to put in any work into optimizing my website.

This site is built on a (now unsupported) Octopress, which is itself built on top of Jekyll. You write pages in Markdown, generate web pages using a pre-made template, and deploy the resulting pages to a hosting provider. In fact, GitHub Pages allow you to host your static website for free, and you can have a third party platform like Disqus provide comment support.

Static websites work great for portfolios, blogs, and websites that don’t rely on extensive common manipulation. They’re more secure (no backend to hack), simple to build and maintain, very fast even without optimization, and are natively SEO friendly (search engines are great at understanding static pages). Static websites are cheap to run - I only pay for a domain name for this site (under $20 a year).

If you have a blog or a portfolio and you’re using an overly complicated content management system to write - consider slimming down. Jekyll (or many of its alternatives) offers a number of pre-made off-ramps for major CMS users, is easy to set up, and is straightforward to work with. Can’t recommend enough - static websites rule!

It’s not a hot take that I really like Soulsbourne video games: games like Dark Souls, Sekiro, Elden Ring. There are many reasons behind my appreciation for the titles: fascinating lore delivery mechanisms, selfless multiplayer cooperation, or thought provoking art direction.

But one faucet of these games ties together the experience: combat. Tight, responsive, and unforgivingly difficult. And mainstream critical success of these games is what allows us to see publishers take more risks with difficult games.

And nothing makes this more apparent than a game stripped down to its core: Sifu. Okay, bear with me - Sifu has nothing to do with the Dark Souls franchise, and the small French Sloclap studio is as far away as you can get from the now behemoth of the industry From Software.

But Sifu is just that: a responsive, fluid, and unforgiving combat experience masquerading as a game. Sifu is a revenge story set in modern-day China, that sees you play through through five levels, each of which culminates with a boss fight.

There’s a twist: every time the character dies, they get older - increasing their damage and reducing their health. Once you go past 80 - it’s game over. This forces the player to master each level, as the player is incentivised to finish each level at the youngest possible age.

The game’s final boss - a man who killed the protagonists’ teacher is hands down one of the hardest boss fights I have experienced in the video games. He’s immune to every cheap trick you might have in your sleeve, attacks relentlessly, and leaves nearly no room for error.

And it’s this boss fight that really made me aware of the state of flow difficult combat forces the player into.

State of flow, or the feeling of “being in the zone” is a state of intense concentration, a perfect balance of difficulty and skill. State of flow is immensely satisfying, and time flies by in an instant while you’re in the zone. And difficult games force the player into the state of flow to progress.

State of flow has many benefits: increasing concentration, creativity, problem solving abilities, and even boosting self esteem. Among many benefits, state of flow helps to reduce stress and anxiety: it’s an inherently relaxing and enjoyable experience, and is one of the main reason I like playing difficult games, even if I’m exhausted after a long day. I can rely on an induced state of flow to help myself relax.

Back to Sifu’s final boss.

The only way I was able to defeat the final boss in Sifu is by sitting back, relaxing, and letting the built up muscle memory take over. It’s a beautiful experience akin to playing an instrument - something that requires the right amount of concentration: too much focus would make you get in your own way, too little would allow you to get distracted. It’s a state of flow, which I immensely enjoy, and which games like this help me enter.

But it isn’t until a second playthrough, which the game encourages you to take to experience the full story, that you’re able to appreciate all the progress you made, and reenter the state of flow for the duration of the full playthrough. Because you’ve already completed the game, there’s confidence in mastery of the game’s systems, but the difficulty and unforgiving nature of encounters still keep the game a challenge.

I think this applies to many games that are built with high difficulty - be it platformers like Celeste, or even tactics games like XCom. In fact, I’d be really curious to see how more cerebral video games get the player into the state of flow - I might dig into that someday.

I find it easy to get caught up in whatever is on my mind. That’s why I find mindfulness practices particularly helpful, and T.E.A. - Thoughts, Energy, Attention - is something I’ve been using on and off for a few years to clear my head and focus on work and decisions that matter to me.

It’s short and simple, and only takes few minutes:

• Thoughts: What’s on my mind now?
  • Is my train of thought helpful? What can be done to change it?
• Energy: How am I feeling?
  • How is my energy level? Can I maintain or improve it?
• Attention: What matters to me?
  • What should I focus on? What should I accomplish?

I’ve seen a common variation of the same acronym stand for Time, Energy, Attention - but I found that didn’t work well for me. Maybe that’s because I’m terrible at estimating or understanding time, or maybe that’s because the most important decisions sometimes end up not taking any time at all. Either way, I try not to concern myself with time. Hence: Thoughts, Energy, Attention.

You can read more about T.E.A. in this PDF from Google.