People try to escape chaos. They want structure. Certainty. A clear plan before they begin.
My wife is exactly like that – she’s a professional scrum master, agile coach, the whole deal. But even she admits that a little chaos is healthy. She lets herself be a bit spontaneous from time to time – which I think is not only charming but also really important.
But for me, chaos is where all the good stuff lives.
When I look back, none of the things I’m proud of came from carefully planned projects. They came from messy, impulsive, unstructured rabbit holes I fell into -half by accident.
You know the kind: You’re supposed to be doing something important, but you get this odd idea and suddenly you’re three hours deep into testing an API you didn’t know existed or hacking some prototype with zero clear goal, just because it feels interesting.
I’ve come to respect that impulse (without indulging it mindlessly 🥹).
Some of my favorite projects started with no plan at all:
- A random UI sketch that became a product demo.
- A late-night script that turned into automation I now use daily.
- A “what if?” idea that led me to learn an entirely new framework.
- Piano Companion, for example, started as a weekend project. The UI was ugly as hell when I published it, but to my surprise, when I opened the Google Play Console the next day, I saw ~20k downloads and tons of positive feedback. It wasn’t polished – it was just out there.
None of those things came from a Jira/Trello/NoName board. They came from embracing chaos – not avoiding it.
We live in a culture obsessed with optimization. Everything has to be productive, efficient, and justified with some return on investment. I’m sorry, but creativity doesn’t work that way. You can’t schedule breakthroughs. You wander into them.
Linear thinking hates unpredictability. But side projects aren’t supposed to be linear.
They’re naturally exploratory – sometimes they come off like ADHD, sometimes like pure vibe coding. Always a bit chaotic, but that mess is the magic. It’s what makes us human.
They’re meant to be confusing and inefficient and a little pointless – until, suddenly, they’re not.
That’s where the magic happens.
In the in-between.
In the “this-might-not-work-but-let’s-see” space.
That’s where the magic happens.
In the in-between.
In the “this-might-not-work-but-let’s-see” space.
It reminds me a lot of asynchronous learning. The traditional, linear model of education – where everyone moves in lockstep, following the same syllabus at the same pace – feels almost hostile to curiosity. It’s about containment. Keeping chaos at bay. Asynchronous learning gives you the freedom to follow questions when they arise – not when a lesson plan says you’re ready. It’s like chasing a spark before it fades. The internet, in all its chaotic glory, is the perfect environment for that kind of exploration. It doesn’t care about semesters or grades. It rewards curiosity with unexpected connections.
That’s what I think side projects really are: personal, asynchronous curriculums. You build what you don’t yet fully understand. You learn just enough to move forward, and then a little more. It’s messy, nonlinear, and often inefficient. But it’s also the most human way to grow.
We don’t need permission or structure to create. We need freedom. We need chaos. We need curiosity to be in the driver’s seat.
I think we lose something when we treat every personal project like a startup. Not everything needs a roadmap. Some things just need room to breathe.
So I’ve started making space in my week for chaos. I’ll open a file with no idea what I’m doing. I’ll poke around some new tool. I’ll build the wrong thing, on purpose, just to see what happens.
And weirdly enough – that’s when I feel the most alive.
PS: This article was also written sporadically and stored in drafts before being polished today.