There’s a certain energy in the air when I sit down to finally build something.
It’s a surge of optimism and creative momentum—the feeling that, for once, the stars have aligned and I might actually pull off something amazing.
The desk is clean(ish).
The coffee is hot.
The playlist? Relentlessly pumping early 2000s EDM like I’m about to do burpees, not write code.
I crack my knuckles, nod with purpose, and tell myself:
“Alright… Let’s do this.”
Three sips later, the terminal’s open. The blank README stares back at me.
Somewhere in the distance, the echo of “let’s do this” bumps into a 404, flashes SYNTAX ERROR, and quietly reboots.
🧠 Analysis Paralysis, but With Syntax Highlighting
Fast forward 10 minutes, and I’m sitting here like a deer caught in the headlights…
The energy’s gone.
The coffee’s already lukewarm—and I’ve microwaved it twice.
I’ve opened 6 tabs on “niche app ideas” and 1 on “why do developers self-sabotage with too many side projects.”
“What the hell am I even building?”
For me, the beginning always plays out like an ‘80s montage—synthwave blaring, fingers flying, optimism maxed out like I’m seconds away from cracking NORAD. I’ve got the wireframe, the repo, and a coffee-stained notebook full of grand ideas. For a moment, I’m 15 again, coding on a beige keyboard with the righteous belief that this app will change everything.
Then… reality sets in.
I’m not 15 anymore, coding past midnight with nothing to lose but sleep and my GPA. Now I’ve got meetings, bills, people who depend on me—and a friend who somehow needs something every 20 minutes.
Shipping a side project isn’t just about pushing code.
It’s about pushing through life to find time, energy, and focus.
And that once-limitless motivation? These days, it has to compete with laundry, Slack pings, and the creeping dread of adulthood. I used to sit down to code and forget the world existed. Now I sit down and remember I haven’t vacuumed in 3 weeks, my laundry is 93% socks with no known pairs, and I apparently promised someone I’d “circle back” on something. Who? What? No one knows. But I’m circling.
And for all you readers—okay, well, the one person reading this—if you just thought, “Yeah, you’re circling alright… circling the drain!” Keep that thought to yourself. I’m fragile, over-caffeinated, and one context switch away from a full-blown kernel panic.”
The synthwave fades.
My to-do list pings.
And I wonder if I’m building an app—or just trying to remember what it felt like when building was the only thing that mattered.
But somewhere between stubbornness and nostalgia, I find the zone.
I’m no longer just building an app—I’m honoring that teenage version of me who once stayed up all night trying to get a sprite to move and shoot without freezing the screen.
📡 Finding Signal in the Noise
I wish I could say I methodically brainstormed ideas, filtered them through user pain points, validated market gaps, and emerged with a polished app concept like some kind of product monk. But no.
In reality? I change app ideas like I change T-shirts—usually after three coffees, a false sense of productivity, and a vague sense that this one will scale.
I’ll be halfway through wiring up a login screen when suddenly—
SQUIRREL!
Just like the dog in UP, I’m off chasing some shiny new concept: A gamified mood tracker. A niche calendar for left-handed skydivers. An AI that generates other app ideas so I can avoid making an actual decision.
The problem isn’t a lack of ideas—it’s too many ideas, all yelling “pick me!” like a room full of reality show contestants. And honestly? They all look like winners until I get to page two of the wireframes and realize I’ve accidentally scoped a full SaaS product.
I tell myself it’s exploration. Creative freedom. Agile iteration. But let’s be honest—most of the time, it’s just productive procrastination dressed up as ideation.
So how do you find signal in that noise?
Well… for me, it started with a shift in the question. Instead of asking “What’s a cool app I could build?” I started asking:
“What problem am I genuinely annoyed by?”
That filter alone clears out 90% of the noise. The rest? Well, I’m still working on that. But at least now when I chase squirrels, they’re my squirrels.
🎯 Plot Twist: I Actually Picked One
After all the false starts, half-baked concepts, and squirrel-chasing side quests, I finally landed on something that actually feels right:
An AI-driven “Good Vibe” Social Media App.
Yep. A place where your day starts not with doomscrolling or unsolicited opinions, but with personalized content designed to lift you up. Something warm, funny, calming—whatever your mood needs. Think “your favorite podcast host crossed with your therapist and your funniest friend,” but automated by AI and always on time.
Why this?
Because honestly, I’m tired of waking up to chaos.
War, outrage, algorithms pushing stress for clicks—it’s like starting every morning with a brick to the soul.
And I figured… if I’m feeling that way, I’m not alone.
People are burnt out. They’re looking for something lighter. More hopeful.
Something that reminds them there’s still joy, humor, and humanity in the world.
And if I can build even a small part of that with the tools we now have—then maybe, for once, this app idea is worth sticking with.
Next up: We thought picking the idea was hard. Turns out, naming it without cringing might be harder.
Poetic? Functional? Something that sounds like a meditation app for robots? The options are endless—and all of them feel vaguely embarrassing.
In the next post, we dive into the weird art of branding a startup without sounding like either a chakra-powered dating app or a wellness tool for aliens.
Spoiler: One of the rejected names did, in fact, include a pun about chakras😅