So in the last post, I was feeling pretty good about myself.
I’d channelled my inner Bruce Lee, meditated on the concept of water, and emerged from the naming wilderness with what I thought was a clean, elegant, two-syllable masterpiece: Zensui.
Micro Moments, Macro Impact.
Poetic. Balanced. Zen.
I even bought the domain. Not the $3,000 one—I’m not insane—but a sensible alternative that didn’t require me to remortgage my nostalgia collection. I was locked in. Committed. Ready to build.
There was just one tiny problem I hadn’t accounted for.
I had to actually say it out loud to other humans.
🫣 The First Test
It started innocently enough. A mate asked me what I’d been working on. Classic pub conversation. Easy setup.
“So I’m building this wellness app,” I said, full of confidence. “It’s called—”
I paused. Took a breath. Leaned in like I was about to reveal the name of a secret government project.
“Zensui.”
Silence.
Not the good kind of silence—not the “wow, that’s profound” silence. More the “did you just sneeze in Japanese?” silence.
He squinted. Tilted his head. Then, with the careful diplomacy of a man who doesn’t want to hurt your feelings but also can’t physically stop himself:
“Is that… a new wine?”
No. No it is not a new wine, Dave.
🍷 The Wine Problem
And that was just the beginning. Because once one person says “wine,” it’s all you hear. Every. Single. Time.
“Zensui? Sounds like something I’d order at a tapas bar.”
“Ooh, Zensui—is that the one with the floral notes and the oaky finish?”
“Wait, spell that for me… Z-E-N… is this Japanese? Are you making sake?”
It got worse. I tried saying it faster. I tried saying it slower. I tried emphasising different syllables. Zen-SUI. ZEN-sui. Zensooey? Each attempt made it worse—like watching someone try to parallel park a bus while a crowd gathers.
One friend—bless him—tried to be supportive. He nodded thoughtfully and said, “Yeah, I can see that. It’s got a… vibe.”
Then, thirty seconds later: “But seriously, what does it mean?”
I launched into my rehearsed Bruce Lee water philosophy speech. He listened politely. Nodded again. Then said: “Right. But when you Google it, the first result is a type of Japanese water ritual. Is that what you’re going for?”
It was not what I was going for.
😬 The Cringe Spiral
Here’s the thing about a bad name—you don’t realise it’s bad until you’ve committed to it. And by “committed,” I mean I’d already:
- Registered the domain
- Set up the GitLab repo
- Created a colour palette
- Designed a logo
- Told approximately 47 people about it
At that point, changing the name feels like admitting defeat. So instead, I did what any rational adult would do: I doubled down and cringed through it.
Every conversation followed the same pattern:
Me: “So the app is called Zensui—” Them: visible confusion Me: “—it’s a wellness thing, micro-moments of mindfulness—” Them: “How do you spell that?” Me: “Z-E-N-S-U-I.” Them: “Huh.” Me: dies inside
I started dreading the question. You know that feeling when someone asks “what do you do?” and you have to explain your job? It was like that, but worse—because at least with a job title, people nod and move on. With Zensui, they’d linger. They’d taste the word. Roll it around their mouth like they were at a sommelier exam.
And the thing that really killed me? I could see it on their faces. That micro-expression—somewhere between politeness and pity—where they’re clearly thinking “I would never download an app called that” but are too kind to say it.
My wife was the most honest. She’d heard me pitch it maybe fifteen times to different people and finally pulled me aside:
“Babe. Every time you say the name, you flinch. Like you’re bracing for impact. That’s… not a great sign.”
She wasn’t wrong. I’d developed an involuntary cringe response. My body was literally rejecting the brand.
🪦 The Breaking Point
The moment I knew it was truly over? I was recording a voice note—just testing how the name sounded in a potential intro for the app. Something like:
“Welcome to Zensui. Your daily space for calm.”
I played it back.
It sounded like a meditation app designed by someone who’d never meditated and was also mildly panicking. The word “Zensui” sat in the sentence like a stone in a shoe. It didn’t flow. It didn’t land. It just… hung there, making everyone uncomfortable—including me, and I was alone in my office.
I deleted the recording, stared at the ceiling, and whispered the five most powerful words in the English language:
“Back to the drawing board.”
🔄 The Lesson (Such As It Is)
Look, I’m not going to pretend this was some grand revelation. The lesson is embarrassingly simple: say your app name out loud—to actual people—before you commit to it.
Not in your head. Not in a Google Doc. Not whispered to your dog while she stares at you with unconditional love and zero brand awareness.
Say it in a sentence. Say it to your most brutally honest friend. Say it to a stranger at a coffee shop. If you cringe, if they squint, if anyone—anyone—asks if it’s a wine… it’s not the name.
I spent weeks on Zensui. Designed around it. Built around it. Defended it. And in the end, the name had to go—not because it was objectively terrible, but because I couldn’t say it without my face doing… a thing.
And that’s the real test, isn’t it? Not whether a name looks good on a logo. Not whether the domain is available. But whether you can say it with a straight face when your mate asks what you’ve been up to.
👀 Coming Up Next
So… new name. New identity. New existential crisis.
But you know what? Naming setbacks aside, the AI tools we’re building with are genuinely jaw-dropping. Remember that tech stack we locked in a few posts ago? Well, there’s a piece I’ve been saving—something that made me feel like I was watching the future break into my codebase with a sledgehammer.
Next up: We finally put our AI-powered stack to the test—and watched an agent reach through the internet, touch our database, create tables, generate production-ready code, and hand us a complete feature in under two minutes. MCP: Not the Tron Villain, But Maybe Just as Powerful.