Build the Damn App: With the Help of AI, This Time I’m Finishing It (Maybe)
Phase 1: The Idea
Everything starts with an idea.
But it’s the execution that separates a passing thought from something real. And in this AI-powered world, I kept telling myself: there’s no excuse not to build. Right?
YouTube is full of people spinning up apps overnight like it’s no big deal — 10 apps, 10 million users, passive income flowing like water. Meanwhile, I’m just here wondering if AI is anything more than a novelty toy. Because when you can’t monetise it, isn’t it just… fun?
Still, I want to do more than dabble. I want to build. Get my head in the game. Finally tick off one big thing from the bucket list:
✨ Build an app. ✨
Yes, I’m a 28-year-old (soon to be 29 — cue existential violins) with an unnecessarily long bucket list. But hey, I’m deep in my eat-pray-love era. It’s now or never.
The AI Flop Era
When the AI boom hit, I jumped in fast. I gleamed. I beamed. I whispered to myself, “This is my moment.”
Then I flopped.
Turns out, building apps is hard when the idea is too big, the expectations too high, and the attention span too short. I burned out before I could even start.
The Pantry Revelation
I don’t know about you, but when I doom scroll on social media, I get hit with an endless stream of recipe content. Beautiful lighting, soft jazz, ingredients I’ve never heard of — and suddenly I’m saving ten different dishes I swear I’m going to try.
And here’s the weird part — when it comes to food, I develop hyper-focused execution powers. I’ll go out, buy every ingredient on the list (even the obscure ones), and cook the dish within 24 hours.
If it turns out great? Amazing. If it flops? That recipe is dead to me.
That’s how I ended up with 500g of coconut powder for a recipe that only needed 10g. It now lives in the pantry next to two others, all half-used, all forgotten.
Then the next “experiment” rolls around, and guess what? I buy another pack — because I’ve forgotten the trauma of the last one.
This isn’t just a food problem. It’s a pattern.
So one night, while cleaning my kitchen (and confronting the coconut graveyard), something clicked:
A simple idea.
Not groundbreaking. Not even that clever. But it solves an actual problem I have.
An inventory tracker. Specifically: a pantry inventory app.
Because if you know me, you know I bulk buy food like I’m feeding twelve. I bought 5kg worth of Funday gummies just because they were on sale. A colleague once said, “So you’re the hoarder people warned me about.”
Excuse me — I am not hoarding. I am thriving. I am feeding a village, and I am the only hungry villager.
A Small, Smart System
The problem? I forget what I’ve already got.
I bulk buy. I eat fast. I lose track. Then I buy again. Or worse — I assume I have it, and I’m completely out.
So I need a system. One that’s simple. One that works.
Here’s the plan:
I take a photo of my pantry items — top, bottom, left, right. Full 360.
AI reads the image, labels the item.
I input quantity.
That’s it.
A rolling list that helps me track what I’ve got and when to restock. Not about calorie counting. Not about expiry dates (I eat fast enough for that not to matter). Just clarity.
This isn’t about productivity hacks or optimization — it’s about creating something that supports my habits instead of working against them.
The Real Reason I’m Doing This
Here’s the truth: I’ve always wanted to build something.
Not to go viral. Not to make millions (though, if Funday ever sends me a PR box, I won’t complain).
But to prove to myself that I can follow through.
That I can take a small idea and finish it. That I’m capable of seeing something through — not just brainstorming, spiraling, and quitting halfway.
This app won’t change the world. But it might change the way I think about myself.
And maybe that’s enough.
Final Thoughts
This idea is simple. But it’s smart.
It’s born from chaos, backed by lived experience, and fuelled by the desire to feel capable again.
That’s why I’m doing it.
To stop overcomplicating. To build something small. To prove that I can finish what I start.
Phase 1: done.
Let’s see if I can bring it to life.
