Welcome to the first edition of Turbo Sundays. Each week, a calm reflection on the creative side of being a developer.

From a young age, we're taught to follow a familiar pattern: study hard, get a degree, then find a stable job. Society rewards this rhythm; it feels safe, respectable, and responsible. A regular job with a steady paycheck gives structure and predictability. It helps us plan our lives, pay our bills, and build a sense of security. You work hard, the money comes in, and life moves forward. It's the system we were raised to trust, and for many, it provides real comfort. There's nothing wrong with that; it's simply how modern life has been designed to function.

Few companies manage to offer the perfect blend of continuous learning, fulfillment, and joy. When they do, it can be an incredible experience. Working within a team exposes you to different ways of thinking. You collaborate, share knowledge, and grow both technically and personally. A well-structured project can bring pride, and a good team can make even the toughest days enjoyable. For some, that sense of collective effort—building something together that reaches real users—is deeply rewarding. When everything aligns, it reminds us why we fell in love with building software in the first place.

There is also a quiet risk in relying entirely on that model. When the project is not yours, your impact ends when the contract does. The codebase does not belong to you, the direction is not fully yours, and the sense of ownership fades quickly. Too often, we find ourselves in environments where politics outweigh ideas or with people who limit our freedom to create. When the job stops, all that effort becomes part of the past, with little to no lasting benefit beyond experience and maybe a few connections.

That is why every developer should have at least one side project. Something that exists outside company walls. A small space where you decide, experiment, and build without permission. In many jobs, we use the same stack, solve similar problems, and follow processes that rarely change. Over time, routine can build a comfort zone that feels safe but slowly dulls curiosity. A personal project breaks that pattern. It is your playground, a place to test new technologies, chase ideas freely, and rediscover the fun of building. It does not have to be big or perfect; the act itself keeps your imagination alive.

A side project does not need to become a business to have value. Sometimes it is simply a creative outlet or a way to learn. It can also evolve naturally. When you pour time and intention into something meaningful, it often opens doors you did not expect: collaborations, opportunities, or even a complete career shift. When that project is open source, it becomes even more powerful. You give back, connect with others, and your work starts living its own life beyond your computer.

For me, that project was Turbo. It started with a simple idea after noticing how repetitive and time-consuming debugging could be. I wanted a faster, cleaner way to log code execution without breaking flow. The first version was written during sleepless nights, powered by curiosity and that quiet excitement you feel when you know you are building something useful. There was no plan and no roadmap, only the desire to create a tool that made development smoother for myself and others.

As time went on, Turbo began to grow beyond what I expected. Developers used it, shared feedback, and contributed. That is when I realized it was more than a side project; it had real potential. I decided to give it my full attention, to treat it like a product, not just a repository. What followed was the transformation of an idea into a brand, a community, and eventually a business I truly believe in. Today, Turbo is my full-time focus and my proof that when you nurture a side project with consistency and care, it can evolve into something lasting.

If you are a developer reading this, I hope you will start something of your own. It does not need to be ambitious or perfect. It does not even have to succeed. What matters is having that small corner of freedom, a space where you build for yourself, where no one can tell you how it should be done or what is worth your time. That space becomes a mirror of who you are as a creator, not just as an employee.

Every line of code you write outside the boundaries of a company is an act of independence. It is how you sharpen your skills, discover new interests, and remember that programming is an art before it is a job. Maybe your project will stay small, or maybe it will take off and change your life. Either outcome is fine, because what truly matters is that it will belong to you.

If this reflection resonated with you, take a look at Turbo Console Log, the side project that grew into my full-time work.

It started as a small idea to make debugging faster and more enjoyable, and it has now become a community-driven open-source tool used by hundreds of thousands of developers worldwide.