Synology

I built an audio app once. Then I built the same app again — and the second time took an afternoon. Not because I’m fast. Because I didn’t really build it again. I cloned it. I took the thing I already had, copied it onto a different machine, pointed it at a different home, and turned it on. That sounds ordinary until you notice you can’t do it with the apps you use every day. You can’t clone Netflix onto a relative’s device. You can’t copy your Spotify and hand it to a friend. The big apps are sealed boxes you rent access to. But software you build is yours, which means you can make copies of it the way you’d copy a key. ...

My daughter is three. She loves one specific playlist of Korean children’s songs, and she likes it best when it plays from a small JBL Bluetooth speaker tucked under her stroller. We walk the neighborhood for about an hour most evenings. I put on her folder, the first song starts, and we go. Thirty seconds later, my phone screen goes off. One more song plays. Then it stops. I have to unlock the phone, tap the next song, put the phone back in my pocket, and keep walking. A minute later, same thing. ...

My daughter is three. My phone takes about 6,000 photos and videos a year — maybe more. I don’t have 6,000 interesting shots. Most of it is accidental taps, blurry motion, seventeen near-identical photos of the same bread I was about to eat. But somewhere in that pile are the clips I actually care about: her first steps, her laughing at something she found hilarious at the time, moments my wife and I know we’ll want to see again when she’s older. ...

My phone has backed up about six thousand photos and videos from 2025 alone. On my PC, I run a local browser tool — pick_yeju.py — that lets me scroll through them, pick the ones worth keeping, and copy them into my daughter’s media library on our NAS. The files are sorted oldest-first. Six thousand of them. That’s about ninety pages at sixty per page. The problem: every time I restarted the tool, it opened at page one. I’d have to scroll back through to wherever I’d left off the previous session. Ten, twenty, thirty pages — just to find my place again. ...

My three-year-old daughter has a favorite show. Baby Shark. She could watch it every day, and often does. Last week, I showed her something new. Fifteen short videos of herself as a baby — the first year of her life, played one after another. She sat still for one hour. Smiling, then laughing out loud, then quiet and focused. She didn’t ask for Baby Shark once. My wife was watching from across the room. She didn’t say much. She didn’t need to. ...

I keep forgetting how to reconnect my NAS folder in Windows Explorer. Every time, I end up asking an AI to walk me through it again. So this time I’m writing it down — for myself as much as anyone else. And then today, the usual steps didn’t work. The folder was gone, and reconnecting it failed too, even though the laptop was on the same Wi-Fi as the NAS. That turned into a longer fix. I’ll cover both. ...

My wife has a habit I love. Every morning, before the day starts, she listens to a Bible teacher she has followed for years. It’s not the Sunday message from our church. It’s something quieter and more personal — a set of recordings she comes back to again and again. They calm her. There was one problem. To listen, she had to open the file manager on her phone, scroll through a long list of audio files with odd names, and tap the right one from memory. No order. No search. No “play the next one.” If she wanted a certain teaching, she usually couldn’t find it. ...

Every parent knows this feeling. You hand your child a tablet to show them one video you picked. One tap later, the app has carried them off somewhere else — loud videos, ads, and “recommended” clips chosen by an algorithm that doesn’t know or care about your child. I didn’t want that for my daughter. I also didn’t want to pay a monthly fee, make another account, or hand my child’s attention to another company. ...