What Building Small, Personal Tools Taught Me This Year
Source: Dev.to
Overview
Toward the end of this year, I found myself scrolling through my GitHub repositories.
Not with pride. Not with regret either—just curiosity.
There were a lot of projects there, more than I remembered starting, but only a few that I still use. The rest fell into two familiar categories:
- Projects that look fine on a résumé
- Projects I built for screening rounds at companies that eventually ghosted me anyway
They weren’t useless; they taught me things. But they didn’t stay with me, and that contrast stuck.
The projects that didn’t ship (and why that was still useful)
This year felt different in one important way: I had more ideas than time. I wrote many of them down in Notion—things I want to build when I have the right resources, space, and energy. Most of them never left that page, and honestly, that was okay. Writing them down made them real, helped me stop carrying them mentally, and gave me something to return to instead of feeling like I was “missing out.”
There was also one project I started with a friend, a learn‑as‑you‑build kind of thing. The idea itself was fine: a Notion‑like clone meant to help us learn a stack we weren’t familiar with. But it didn’t come from a real need. We worked backwards:
- Tech stack → possible project → execution
Life happened, other priorities piled up, the project stalled, and eventually it faded.
That experience taught me something uncomfortable but important: if you’re not genuinely interested in what you’re building, it slowly turns into unpaid work, and that’s hard to sustain in this economy.
Where building for myself really started
Looking back, building for myself didn’t start as a conscious decision; I think I flowed into it. A big part of that came from following Angela Yu’s full‑stack course—not because of the tech itself, but because of how she framed learning: build things that do something, even if they’re small.
Projects like:
- Find Your Poison – a cocktail recipe finder
- A book notes web app
They weren’t groundbreaking, but they were fun and, more importantly, useful to me. Even now, when I look back at them, my first thought isn’t “this is outdated,” it’s “how could I make this better?” That mindset lit a spark.
Tunnel Vision
That spark showed up clearly when I built my bilingual portfolio and later, Commentto. What surprised me most wasn’t the output—it was the speed.
- The portfolio took roughly five days, give or take.
- Commentto took about three.
Both were faster than many “simpler” projects I’d worked on before. The difference wasn’t skill; it was focus. When you’re building something you’ll actually use, you get tunnel vision—the productive kind. You stop debating edge cases that don’t matter yet, cut scope without guilt, and move forward because you want the thing to exist.
Think in systems, not just features
Building this way changed how I think. I’m hesitant to call it “thinking like a senior developer”—that feels like getting ahead of myself—but I did notice a shift.
Instead of asking:
- What features should I add?
I started asking:
- Why should I add this feature?
- What system am I building?
- What needs to exist now, and what can wait?
- Where should this logic live?
- What happens when this is actually used?
In an age where AI can generate features quickly, I’ve realized how important it is to understand structure and scope, not just implementation. I’m still inconsistent, still work in bursts, and still burn out after finishing something—but I’m not complaining. At least not yet. Somehow, it ends well.
What stayed
If I had to summarize what this year taught me, it wouldn’t be a framework or a rule. It would be this:
- usefulness beats impressiveness
- real usage exposes flaws fast
- clarity matters more than cleverness
- small tools can change behavior more than big ideas
None of that feels revolutionary; it just feels true now because I’ve lived it.
Looking ahead, without resolutions
I don’t have a big plan for next year. I know I can code. I know I have ideas I want to build. I know I need resources, and I’ll get them as I go. I’m not someone who believes in waiting to start. If I can start, I will. If I get stuck, I’ll figure it out along the way.
This year taught me that action leads to consequence, and momentum comes from moving, not from certainty. That’s the direction I’m heading in.
Closing
This year didn’t make me faster. It made me more honest about what I build and why. And that feels like a good place to stop and reflect.
Thank you for supporting me on this journey.