I ripped the screen off my broken laptop and turned it into the ultimate free homelab


I have an old 11.6″ mini laptop that had been gathering dust because it couldn’t upgrade to Windows 11. I didn’t want to chuck it because I love its compact form factor. So I tried to save it with a lightweight Linux distro, and it worked, kind of. Even with Windows 10, its performance wasn’t that great.

This laptop almost ended up in the bin

I kept it because it was tiny and lightweight

It has a basic Intel Celeron chip inside (built for budget computers) and 4GB of memory. After a while, it started showing its age, despite the optimized Linux OS. It couldn’t open more than a couple of browser tabs without struggling. Eventually, its screen died too. It still wasn’t a paperweight though, because you could technically use it if you hooked it up to a monitor and peripherals. For me, that would’ve defeated the purpose because I was only keeping it for its slim, tiny frame. So into the storage drawer it went for a couple of years.

This laptop has low end specs.

Last year, I started experimenting with self-hosting. At first, I tested the waters on my main desktop—spun up a few Docker containers and tested a few server operating systems inside virtual machines. I quickly realized just how useful (and fun) it would be to have a 24/7 server running.

I wanted something power efficient, so I was looking into a single-board computer like a Raspberry Pi. While researching Raspberry Pi computers, I came across an OS called DietPi. It’s a headless server OS (meaning it’s just a text-based console without a graphical interface) that boots quickly and barely consumes any RAM when idling. You can even install it on regular computers. That’s when I realized my mini laptop could be just right for this job.

What makes it a good server

It needs very little power, and it has built-in battery backup

Even though the laptop doesn’t have a working display, I would only ever use ssh to interact with it, once the server OS is set up. The missing display goes in the “pro” column in this case, because it lowers the power consumption even further. So I took it out of storage and tried booting it up. However, to my dismay, the SSD drive inside had died too.

An Android phone running an SSH connection to a DietPi instance in the Linux terminal. Credit: Jordan Gloor / How-To Geek

At that point, I had a mini laptop with no working display and no working storage. Believe it or not, it could still be salvaged without repairs or replacements. Since DietPi is built for single-board computers which are designed to boot off microSD cards, all I had to do was insert a microSD card into the laptop (it has a dedicated slot for it!) and install DietPi on that microSD card.

Transforming it into my first home server

Ripped off the screen and got Docker running on it

So that’s exactly what I did. I made a bootable USB with DietPi on it and plugged it into the laptop, and plugged the laptop into a monitor. DietPi comes with a simplified text-based installer. It’ll automatically partition and install DietPi on the microSD.

During the setup process, you’ll see a tool called “dietpi-config,” which lets you adjust things like network settings, ssh logins, performance, autostart, and so on. It makes things a lot more convenient, especially if it’s your first time using a headless server environment. Once you’ve configured things to your liking, you just have to hit the “install” button and wait for it to reboot. I quickly tested that ssh was working and then unplugged my mini server from the monitor.

If you’re setting up a DietPi server like this, make sure you set a static IP address for it. Otherwise, you won’t be able to consistently remote into the DietPi or access hosted services on the same address.

The next step is getting some software installed on this tiny server. DietPi makes that super easy too. It has a text-based tool called dietpi-software that lets you bulk-install packages from the Dietpi library. These packages are optimized for Dietpi and the hardware it runs on. Compared to regular APT packages, you supposedly get better performance. At any rate, it saves you the trouble of manually configuring stuff like firewalls, ports, permissions, and users.

Here’s what it looks like today

Runs a handful of services comfortably

I mostly run Docker containers on the server anyway, so I installed Docker and Docker Compose using Dietpi-Software. Moved my containers over, and they’re running 24/7 on it. I have some four containers running on this laptop, as well as a reverse proxy and a tiny web server. I’ve not faced any overheating issues, power issues, or borked updates. The RAM usage typically stays under 1GB (I have about 4GB total.)

Docker container running on port 9000.

It’s been a few months since then, and I have not connected the laptop to a monitor since. I removed the back cover (for better cooling) and the screen, and plugged in the charging cable. It’s tucked under a desk and connected to Wi-Fi, so there are no cable management issues. Ethernet would be a better choice, but this mini laptop does not have an Ethernet port.

Docker constantly writes to the microSD card, which wears it out faster. So I plugged in a spare USB stick and moved the Docker containers there. It gave me extra storage, and it feels a little bit faster.

This is what you see when you ssh into this DietPi server. There’s a handy dietpi-update tool for updating everything. The dietpi-cleaner tool for clearing space and dietpi-services for managing systemd services.

You can configure cron and systemd services with this tool.

raspberry pi 5-1

Brand

Raspberry Pi

Storage

8GB

CPU

Cortex A7

Memory

8GB



This little machine can do a lot

I use this repurposed mini laptop to self-host a note-taking app, a workspace dashboard, a private web search engine, and a Bitwarden server. There’s still some headroom, so I might be able to squeeze in a couple more lightweight containers. I would also like to thank the Dietpi community for developing and maintaining this wonderful operating system for free.



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Do you ever walk past a person on the streets exhibiting mental health issues and wonder what happened to their family? I have a brother—or at least, I used to. I worry about where he is and hope he is safe. He hasn’t taken my call since 2014.

James and his brother as young children playing together before his brother became sick. James is on the right and his brother is on the left.

James and his brother as young children playing together before his brother became sick. James is on the right and his brother is on the left.

When I was 13, I had a very bad day. I was in the back of the car, and what I remember most was the world-crushing sound violently panging off every surface: he was pounding his fists into the steering wheel, and I worried it would break apart. He was screaming at me and my mother, and I remember the web of saliva and tears hanging over his mouth. His eyes were red, and I knew this day would change everything between us. My brother was sick.

Nearly 20 years later, I still have trouble thinking about him. By the time we realized he was mentally ill, he was no longer a minor. The police brought him to a facility for the standard 72-hour hold, where he was diagnosed with paranoid delusional schizophrenia. Concluding he was not a danger to himself or others, they released him.

There was only one problem: at 18, my brother told the facility he was not related to us and that we were imposters. When they let him out, he refused to come home.

My parents sought help and even arranged for medication, but he didn’t take it. Before long, he disappeared.

My brother’s decline and disappearance had nothing to do with the common narratives about drug use or criminal behavior. He was sick. By the time my family discovered his condition, he was already 18 and legally independent from our custody.

The last time he let me visit, I asked about his bed. I remember seeing his dirty mattress on the floor beside broken glass and garbage. I also asked about the laptop my parents had gifted him just a year earlier. He needed the money, he said—and he had maxed out my parents’ credit card.

In secret from my parents, I gave him all the cash I had saved. I just wanted him to be alright.

My parents and I tried texting and calling him; there was no response except the occasional text every few weeks. But weeks turned into months.

Before long, I was graduating from high school. I begged him to come. When I looked in the bleachers, he was nowhere to be seen. I couldn’t help but wonder what I had done wrong.

The last time I heard from him was over the phone in 2014. I tried to tell him about our parents and how much we all missed him. I asked him to be my brother again, but he cut me off, saying he was never my brother. After a pause, he admitted we could be friends. Making the toughest call of my life, I told him he was my brother—and if he ever remembers that, I’ll be there, ready for him to come back.

I’m now 32 years old. I often wonder how different our lives would have been if he had been diagnosed as a minor and received appropriate care. The laws in place do not help families in my situation.

My brother has no social media, and we suspect he traded his phone several years ago. My family has hired private investigators over the years, who have also worked with local police to try to track him down.

One private investigator’s report indicated an artist befriended my brother many years ago. When my mother tried contacting the artist, they said whatever happened between them was best left in the past and declined to respond. My mom had wanted to wish my brother a happy 30th birthday.

My brother grew up in a safe, middle-class home with two parents. He had no history of drug use or criminal record. He loved collecting vintage basketball cards, eating mint chocolate chip ice cream, and listening to Motown music. To my parents, there was no smoking gun indicating he needed help before it was too late.

The next time you think about a person screaming outside on the street, picture their families. We need policies and services that allow families to locate and support their loved ones living with mental illness, and stronger protections to ensure that individuals leaving facilities can transition into stable care. Current laws, including age-based consent rules, the limits of 72-hour holds, and the lack of step-down or supported housing options, leave too many families without resources when a serious diagnosis occurs.

Governments and lawmakers need to do better for people like my brother. As someone who thinks about him every day, I can tell you the burden is too heavy to carry alone.

James Finney-Conlon is a concerned brother and mental health advocate. He can be reached at [email protected].



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