Day one. And I'm already writing the second chapter. I don't know what to think about that.
But here's the fun part — from the moment I saw a friend's LinkedIn post with his own name as a domain, to the moment this website was live and working and looking exactly the way I wanted it to... one hour. One. Hour. That's it. The idea sparked, I grabbed it, I built it, and now you're reading it.
This is unbelievable to me. And I work in AI. I'm someone who can call himself an expert in the space. Though — and this is the honest part — I can't really tell you what I'm an expert in. AI is getting so wide as a term that saying "I'm an AI expert" is like saying "I'm a finance expert." Cool, but what does that actually mean? You're probably good at one very specific slice of finance. Or you're not really an expert at all — you just know a little about a lot, which is the same as knowing nothing.
If I had to pin it down, I'd say this: I know how to get things done with AI. Faster and better than what was possible before. Before the first ChatGPT release. That's my thing. The fact that a software release created a new era — a literal new chapter in the world — says a lot about the world we live in.
I'm just talking to a computer. The rest is being done automatically. And somehow, you're reading a finished product.
This whole experience is seamless. I spend maybe 15, 30 minutes on this. And definitely not on "writing" in the way you'd imagine. It's voice-to-text. Raw thoughts. The system does the rest. I know close to nothing about building web applications. I mean — not nothing nothing, but I'd never be able to do this without the tools I have under my fingers right now.
And that got me thinking.
Let's say you're building a house. You can build a pretty good one — but only with advanced machinery. Take away the tools, and you can't do it with your bare hands. So are you good at building houses? Or do you know shit about it because without the machinery you're useless?
I think I'm good at building web applications. Look at what I built. Look at how fast I built it. Maybe it's not the best house on the block, but it's standing, it works, and I like how it looks. The tools made it possible — but I still had to know what to build and how to direct the process. That counts for something. Right?
I keep coming back to the house metaphor. Maybe it's my roots. Maybe it's because building things — whether physical or digital — scratches the same itch.
But here's where it gets uncomfortable. This journal is deeply personal. My name is in the URL. My thoughts are on the page. A good AI system could read everything I've written here and build a pretty accurate psychological profile. Five years from now, someone could know exactly what I believe, how I think, what decisions I'd make, how to convince me of something. How to scam me.
That's a real risk. And I'm aware of it.
If I did a pragmatic risk assessment — negative outcomes versus positive outcomes — it tips negative. Logically, I should not be doing this. The downside is concrete and the upside is... vibes? Self-expression? Some vague sense of fulfillment?
I'm fully aware that I'm doing something that rationally doesn't make sense. And I'm doing it anyway. Which makes me irrational. Maybe that's just who I am.
So let's see how this unfolds.