<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"><channel><title>Ai on Christian Spoo</title><link>https://www.christian-spoo.de/tags/ai/</link><description>Recent content in Ai on Christian Spoo</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sun, 05 Apr 2026 18:40:25 +0200</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://www.christian-spoo.de/tags/ai/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Get shit done with Claude Code, Gemini and OpenAI Codex</title><link>https://www.christian-spoo.de/posts/2026/04/get-shit-done-with-claude-code-gemini-and-openai-codex/</link><pubDate>Sun, 05 Apr 2026 18:20:00 +0200</pubDate><guid>https://www.christian-spoo.de/posts/2026/04/get-shit-done-with-claude-code-gemini-and-openai-codex/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Over the last few weeks, I picked up an old codebase of mine again: &lt;strong&gt;miniOS&lt;/strong&gt;, a small x86_64 hobby operating system kernel that dates back to my university days.
It had been sitting around for a long time in that familiar state many personal systems projects eventually reach:
promising, educational, and full of interesting ideas, but also weighed down by old design decisions and unresolved blockers.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;That combination makes such projects oddly difficult to resume.
You still remember why they matter to you.
You still know there is something worthwhile inside them.
But every attempt to continue starts with the same exhausting phase of reconstructing context, rediscovering broken edges, and trying to remember why some piece of code was written that way in the first place.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>