I scrolled through Twitter and saw marketers proudly announcing their “fully functional apps” built with AI tools like Lovable. I smirked.
API keys exposed. Security holes everywhere. Rookie mistakes that made me wince.
"Amateurs," I muttered, shaking my head.
I’ve spent years building secure, reliable applications. So watching non-tech folks—especially marketers—dive into AI-powered app development with more enthusiasm than expertise felt both amusing and frustrating.
And it wasn’t just one post.
One marketer built a chatbot that leaked user data because they skipped authentication—probably didn’t even know what it was. Another copied AI-generated payment code that collapsed under scrutiny, leaving their startup scrambling. Someone else trusted Cursor a little too much and wiped out four months of work with one careless command.
I’d sip my coffee, read these stories, and think, This is why coding isn’t for everyone. Stick to your campaigns and leave the tech to us.
I didn’t know soon I would be in the same situation.
I am a curious person.
I’d been following folks like Andrej Karpathy, who coined the term “Vibe coding,” and Pieter Levels, who makes tech look like an adventure. His quick flight simulator project sparked something in me.
I’ve always loved games—how they blend code with storytelling—but I’d never built one. As a college student, I wanted to make a Pokémon-style adventure or something with blockchain elements, but I’d always hit a wall. Complexity. My lack of art skills.
This time, AI promised a shortcut.
I figured, I’ve got the coding chops—how hard could it be?
So I dove in, sketching out a simple game concept. But I quickly hit a roadblock.
Games need more than code. They need art, animation, design—all things I’d never touched.
I turned to ChatGPT, expecting it to generate art assets for me. Instead, it gave me step-by-step instructions.
"First, sketch the outline. Then add shading. Then..."
I didn’t want a tutorial. I wanted results.
I tried following along anyway, but what I made looked nothing like what I envisioned. My “character” was a mess of lines and awkward shapes. I gave up.
And that’s when it hit me.
I was no different from those marketers.
They weren’t fools—they were explorers, stepping into a world they didn’t fully understand, just like I was with game development.
I had mocked them for relying on AI as a crutch, assuming it could replace real expertise. But here I was, doing the exact same thing.
I thought about my own comfort zone—coding, debugging, the things I could do with my eyes closed. Outside of that? I was fumbling. And it was uncomfortable.
But that discomfort? That’s where real learning happens.
AI isn’t just a tool for coders or a shortcut for “amateurs.” It’s a bridge.
Marketers are building apps without years of CS classes. Coders like me are experimenting with art and design. AI is lowering the walls, letting us peek into other professions and try things we never would’ve before.
And yeah, it’s messy. But it’s also full of potential.
The world is moving fast—too fast to stay locked in one skill set. Generalists—people who can blend marketing with tech, or code with storytelling—are thriving. Sure, there’s a risk of knowing just enough to be dangerous, but I’d rather be a curious dabbler than a gatekeeper clutching my expertise like a shield.
And about AI and art? AI will get better, but it won’t match the soul of a human artist. Maybe not ever. But that’s okay. It still gives people like me a chance to create something—imperfect, but real.
Looking back, I wish I’d been kinder to those marketers. Instead of laughing at their exposed API keys, I could’ve dropped them a tip, shared a resource, helped them along.
We’re all learning.
So if you’re curious about coding, design, or anything outside your usual lane—just try. Let AI help you. You’ll mess up—I did plenty—but that’s part of it.
And when you see someone else struggling, don’t judge. Help them up.
Because in the end, we’re not just building apps, games, or businesses.
We’re building a world where curiosity wins.