I Am An Indie Hacker

So your browser consents, the host consents, but Cloudflare? Nah, they're the third wheel nobody invited who just shows up and ruins everything. The beautiful irony here is that both ends of the connection are perfectly fine with each other, but Cloudflare sits in the middle like an overprotective parent saying "I DON'T!" while the error message helpfully suggests you "Kill Yourself" as a solution. Welcome to the modern internet, where your consent doesn't matter because some CDN decided you look suspicious. The "Isn't There Someone You Forgot To Ask?" is chef's kiss—like yeah, apparently we needed Cloudflare's permission to access a website. Who knew the internet needed a chaperone?

Modern programming in a nutshell: you spend 4 hours crafting the perfect prompt to tell an AI what you want, then 2 hours actually coding. It's like having a really smart but incredibly literal intern who needs extremely detailed instructions. The fake Abraham Lincoln attribution is *chef's kiss* – because nothing says "inspirational tech thought leader" like slapping a historical figure's name on your LinkedIn hot take about AI-driven development. Pretty sure Honest Abe was more into splitting rails than splitting user stories into microservices. But real talk? The ratio is painfully accurate. Half your "coding time" with AI tools is just negotiating with ChatGPT or Copilot to generate something that doesn't look like it was written by a caffeinated rubber duck. "No, I said B2B SaaS, not B2C... no, not blockchain... please stop adding blockchain..."

Every year without fail, someone remembers in late January that they still have "© 2024 Company Name. All rights reserved." sitting in their footer. It's the web dev equivalent of writing the wrong year on checks for the first month. You know it needs updating, you even added it to your mental todo list, but somehow it always slips through until someone inevitably points it out or you randomly notice it yourself weeks later. The real pros just hardcode the current year in a template variable and forget about it forever. The rest of us? We'll see you next January when we go through this dance again.

The modern programmer's commute: rolling out of bed and crawling to the desk. This guy declaring "I AM HALF WAY TO WORK" while barely making it from his bed to his computer is the most accurate depiction of remote work I've seen. The physical distance is 6 feet, but the mental distance? Might as well be crossing the Sahara. Who needs a morning commute when the hardest part of your journey is convincing your body that pajamas are acceptable professional attire? The struggle is real—and so is the bed hair.

Whoever invented timezones has a special place reserved in developer hell. Nothing breaks your soul quite like debugging why your app works perfectly in California but crashes in Tokyo at exactly 3PM. I've spent entire sprints fixing date-related bugs only to have some PM go "but what about daylight savings?" and watch my will to live evaporate. If I could time travel, I wouldn't kill Hitler - I'd find the timezone inventor and show them my git blame history.

Nothing quite captures the essence of freelance web development like sending a client a static JPEG of your beautiful interactive design, only for them to call you confused about why clicking furiously on the image doesn't do anything. It's the digital equivalent of handing someone a photograph of a sandwich and wondering why they can't take a bite. The client's technological literacy and your sanity decrease in perfect inverse proportion with each passing project.