For the design enthusiast, microservices are a symphony of decoupled elegance. For the poor soul stuck maintaining them, it’s more like a slow descent through Dante’s Inferno. What starts as a sleek arrangement of tiny services can devolve into a dumpster fire of forgotten endpoints, version mismatches, and devs asking existential questions at 2 AM.

A Promise of Agility

Microservices emerged to solve the monolith conundrum: large, unwieldy applications that were impossible to deploy or scale without fear. By breaking functionality into independently deployable units, teams gained autonomy and speed. Suddenly, a small feature change didn’t require redeploying the entire application—just the service in question. But an extremely opinionated echelon of AWS certified gurus took this mostly sane concept and pushed it to a logical extreme that makes me wonder if living in mud huts was better for humanity.

the tiniest shiba

On the surface, Cyprus is a carefree country — a sunny Mediterranean island with a leisurely vibe. The locals are welcoming, the beaches are dazzling, and life moves slowly in that island sort of way.

It’s so charming, it’s easy to forget that not long ago, Cyprus was a warzone.

Before the War

Cyprus has been occupied by the Greeks, the Romans, the British, the French, the Turkish, and just about anyone who showed up with a boat and some military ambition. Lying at intersection between Europe and the Middle East, it’s always been valuable — and vulnerable. And with a small population and government, it’s incredibly difficult to defend this island.

I spent ten years as a software engineer before actually publishing this site. I had the idea at least two years ago. But indecision, constant redesigns, and the irresistible draw of shiny new tech destroyed my abilities to create.

It wasn’t laziness that caused my procrastination. The true culprit was overanalyzation. Every time I sat down to envision exactly what I wanted, it would become more complex. The tech would shift from something reliable to something bleeding-edge. And then back. I had a custom React page a year ago, but I scrapped it because it wasn’t perfect. The simple task of releasing something became an enormous mental blocker.