Why I Started My Tech Journey with HTML

When I decided to learn tech, I didn’t start with Python or JavaScript.

I started with HTML.

Before then I had become very interested in how images, colours and texts take shape on the web. The forms they take from the time of request till when it appears on our screens. What is responsible for these dynamics? Why do some texts appear in italics, bold or normal? What is responsible for the difference in colours? How is the spacing between words achieved? Why do some texts appear on the right and others on the left? How is this achieved? How do I get to have options and when I make inputs, I get results? It was these interests that churned on as the days passed that led me to the building block of the web-HTML.

At the time, it didn’t feel like a bold decision especially when I discovered a few days into the study what Ai could now do in that respect. Even a friend of my in the Tech industry whom I had informed of my interest and my decision to learn this skill alluded to this fact. He said it was a waste of time and advised that I focus on other more profitable aspect of Tech. But that did not assuage the thirst and I kept on. And Thank God I did!

But it felt almost underwhelming. I did not understand why. HTML wasn’t glamorous. It didn’t promise automation, intelligence, or complex logic. It was just structure — tags, elements, and files.

And at first, it felt too simple.
Almost boring.

But looking back now, that simplicity was exactly what I needed. It provided the type of ground that formed my very first steps in this journey. The exact type I so much desired.


HTML was the first time tech stopped feeling abstract.

Before then, “the web” was something I used, not something I understood. Pages loaded. Buttons worked. Content appeared. But none of it had a shape in my mind only bewilderment that later gave rise to interest.

HTML changed that.

It showed me that the web isn’t magic — it’s structure.
Headings, paragraphs, links, images.
Files connecting to files.
Content arranged intentionally.

For the first time, I could see how things fit together.


What HTML gave me wasn’t intelligence.
It gave me orientation. A picture; an outline.

I began to understand:

  • how content is displayed,
  • how a browser reads files,
  • how one file can point to another,
  • how a simple mistake can break a page — and how fixing it restores order.

These weren’t advanced concepts, but they were grounding.

Instead of feeling lost inside “tech,” I had a map.


More importantly, HTML gave me early wins. I now saw how websites are built. How the texts are formed. How images are rendered.

I typed something.
I saved the file.
I opened it in a browser.

And there it was.

It didn’t matter that it looked ugly.
It didn’t matter that it wasn’t styled.
What mattered was that something I created appeared in front of me.

That moment did more for my confidence than any explanation ever could. And it was fun too to see the “magic” I could now activate!!


HTML didn’t make me feel “smart.”

It made me feel capable.

That difference is subtle, but important.

Feeling smart fades quickly when things get hard.
Feeling capable stays with you when you hit confusion.

I had been somewhat carefree in handling files. HTML taught me that I could:

  • follow structure,
  • make sense of errors,
  • fix what was broken,
  • and build something visible from nothing.

At the beginning, that matters more than complexity.


Looking back now, I see that starting with HTML wasn’t about learning a language.

It was about learning how to stand inside tech without fear.

It slowed things down in the right way.
It removed pressure.
It allowed understanding to form without intimidation.

Though I am still learning but that foundation made everything that followed possible.


If you’re starting tech today, HTML is not a waste of time.

It won’t impress anyone just like I did not impress my friend.
It won’t make you feel advanced.

But it will give you something more valuable early on:

A sense that you belong here.
A sense that you can build.
A sense that learning is possible.

And sometimes, that’s the most important foundation of all.


This post is part of my ongoing learning archive.
My Tech Learning Journey — One Step at a Time

Why Tutorials Alone Didn’t Give Me Flow

There was a period in my learning where everything looked right from the outside.

I was watching tutorials- Youtube videos and others.
I was reading guides-including PDF´s of code journals, W3Schools website and the in-depth coverage it gave in almost all programming languages.
I was following along, typing what I saw, and getting the expected results.

By most standards, I was “learning.”

But internally, something felt off. And so I felt.

I wasn’t lost, yet I wasn’t settled either. I could reproduce steps, but once the tutorial ended, the confidence faded quickly. The sense of flow I expected never really arrived. I could not actually connect the dots thereafter.

At that stage, my learning was mostly driven by consumption. Wait longer, it tends to dissipate-lost almost completely. And with a bit of frustration at how I could forget so soon, I would go back to try to fill the gaps again.

I moved from one tutorial to the next, assuming that consistency alone would eventually turn into understanding. Each video felt productive. Each article felt useful. And in isolation, they were.

But what I didn’t realize at the time was that I was collecting information, not owning it.

I could follow instructions, but I struggled to explain why something worked. If a small detail changed, I had to go back to the tutorial. If I faced a slightly different problem, the clarity disappeared.

The knowledge was there — but it wasn’t anchored.

This wasn’t a failure of tutorials.

In fact, tutorials helped me overcome fear. They introduced me to tools, concepts, and possibilities I might not have approached on my own. They lowered the barrier to entry and made learning feel accessible.

But they had a limitation I didn’t see early enough.

Tutorials are designed to show a path, not to build ownership. They guide you forward, but they don’t pause to ask whether you truly understand what just happened.

And I wasn’t pausing either. Just going.

The real issue wasn’t that I was learning the “wrong” way.
It was that I hadn’t yet learned how I needed to learn.

I mistook movement for progress.
I assumed that more effort will bring clarity and that staying busy meant things were sinking in.

But flow doesn’t come from repetition alone. It comes from clarity — and clarity only appears when you slow down enough to reflect.

That realization didn’t arrive as frustration or burnout. It came quietly.

I noticed that the moments where things finally made sense were the moments when I stepped away from the tutorial and tried to explain the idea to myself — sometimes in writing, sometimes mentally, sometimes by rebuilding something without guidance.

Those moments were slower. Less impressive. Less visible.

But they stayed with me.

That was the beginning of a shift.

I didn’t abandon tutorials. I simply stopped letting them lead the entire process. I began paying attention to what confused me, where I hesitated, and what I couldn’t explain clearly.

Writing became a tool, not for teaching others, but for understanding myself.

Documenting what I was learning forced me to confront gaps that tutorials had quietly allowed me to skip. Reflection turned passive knowledge into something more solid. Then the dots started connecting.

That’s when learning started to feel different.

This post sits between From Fear to Flow and the more structured journey that followed.

It represents the phase where learning looked productive, but understanding was still forming. It explains why documentation became necessary — not for content, not for performance, but for clarity.

The stages that come after this are shaped by that realization.

I didn’t need more speed.
I needed more structure.

And that’s where the next part of the journey begins.

This post is part of my ongoing learning archive.
My Tech Learning Journey — One Step at a Time