Of all the days to start a blog, I chose April Fools' Day. It wasn't intentional, maybe more of a reflection of my mindset. When I decide to do something, I shut off my brain and just do it. This was a commitment I made without thinking about the long-term effects.
I knew writing was hard, but I didn't know how hard. I knew that maintaining a server was hard, but I didn't know the stress it would cause. Especially that first time I went viral. Seeing traffic pour in, reading back the article, and realizing it was littered with errors. I was scrambling to fix those errors while users hammered my server. I tried restarting it to relieve the load and update the content, but to no avail. It was a stressful experience. One I wouldn't trade for anything in the world.
13 years later, it feels like the longest debugging session I've ever run. Random people message me pointing out bugs. Some of it is complete nonsense. But others... well, I actually sent payment to a user who sent me a proof of concept showing how to compromise the entire server. I thought he'd done some serious hacking, but when I responded, he pointed me to one of my own articles where I had accidentally revealed a vulnerability in my framework.
The amount you learn from running your own blog can't be replicated by any other means. Unlike other side projects that come and go, the blog has to remain. Part of its value is its longevity. No matter what, I need to make sure it stays online. In the age of AI, it feels like anyone can spin up a blog and fill it with LLM-generated content to rival any established one. But there's something no LLM can replicate: longevity.
No matter what technology we come up with, no tool can create a 50-year-old oak tree. The only way to have one is to plant a seed and give it the time it needs to grow.
Your very first blog post may not be entirely relevant years later, but it's that seed. Over time, you develop a voice, a process, a personality. Even when your blog has an audience of one, it becomes a reflection of every hurdle you cleared. For me, it's the friction in my career, the lessons I learned, the friends I made along the way. And luckily, it's also the audience that keeps me honest and stops me from spewing nonsense.
Nothing brings a barrage of emails faster than being wrong.
Maybe that's why I subconsciously published it on April Fools' Day. Maybe that's the joke. I'm going to keep adding rings to my tree, audience or no audience, I'm building longevity.
Thank you for being part of this journey.
Extra: Some articles I wrote on April Fools day.