These past couple of days I picked up a small project I'd made before.
The last spark came when our second child was born, in those first weeks at home. I kept having to note when he woke, when he nursed, when he pooped—and it struck me: what if a tiny tool just stamped the time, like tapping a check-in? I didn't want a pile of features, or that heavy feeling when you use it. Plenty of apps out there are stuffed with distractions, trying to do everything. Fine as a business. I'm a simple person, though—more is just more weight for me. The job was single and clear, so I just built it myself. Practice, really—it's what I do.
To get it in hand fast, given how things were then, a WeChat Mini Program was the easiest route. Back then you didn't need the paperwork and certifications you do now. I can't remember exactly when it went live. It worked quite well. Later, as the platform kept changing the rules—filings, licenses, all of it—I just stopped maintaining it. Eventually it came down.
Lately, in spare hours, I keep wanting to jot a line or two: what I was thinking, or how I felt. Drop it in a notes app and it already feels too heavy. Then that feeling came back. I really do need this—to capture how I am in the moment. Later, as a memory, or just a note to myself.
If it's going to last, the features and the interaction have to stay simple: no other noise, no social, no extra chores. It also has to open fast and stay light on memory. I don't want to be in another app, suddenly need to record something, come back, and find the last one killed by the system. For a small tool, that's a bad experience. To cover more ways of using it, I put in the extra time to ship Android and iOS. China's phone stores are a long story; I couldn't get through that much paperwork, so I'm leaving them aside for now.
There were trade-offs along the way.
A lot of what I've been shipping lately is old ideas. Some I never started. Some I dropped halfway. Now they've circled back. Like my dayu.me domain. I fought to grab it the day registration opened, played with it for a year, then let the renewal lapse. Someone else took it. I regretted that more times than I can count. Then in 2021 I went to look again—and it was unregistered. I was so excited. Grateful, really, for a chance to make up for it. Before forty I never believed in fate, or that things were meant to be. Now I'm starting to hesitate. Maybe I just haven't grown these years, and I can't see another meaning or path. Or maybe it really is meant to be. If we meet again in days this hard, why not give it everything—and keep it for this life?
That little aside is what made it land: sometimes your first idea really, really matters. I don't want to miss it again. I don't want anyone reading this to miss theirs either. A thought that sudden, that precious, should be written down in that moment, without hesitation. Later you may or may not see it again. At least when I met it, I was paying attention.
To keep that first take intact, I dropped the design that lets you edit after saving. Nothing is absolute—editing might come later—but there will be a threshold. Otherwise I'll drift from the original intent again.
I used to call it Mark. Now it's going onto a bigger platform, and I'm building a product brand called Abox. So I put the two together.
Hello, Abox Mark. Grateful to meet again.
abox.co/mark