Why your side project is worse than Netflix & chill

January 6, 2026

Originally published as an X Article. Reposted here with the original date.

The 3C Framework for auditing how you spend your life

I built 11 products in 2025. Solo. Nights and weekends. While holding down a VP job.

Sounds impressive, right?

Here's the thing: almost nobody uses them.

Because, most never launched. The code sits in repos, the domains gather dust.

Meanwhile, I finished 3 seasons of Suits on Netflix, something I seldom do.

Sounds like a waste, right?

But I’ve used Harvey Specter’s negotiation tactics in three roadmap conversations, a dozen vendor calls, and countless situations where I needed to read power dynamics in a room.

“What would Harvey do?” is a mental model I reach for more than any business book I’ve read.

So here’s the uncomfortable question:

Which activity was more valuable — building 11 products or watching Netflix?

The answer broke how I think about time.

And how we brand activities.

The 3C Framework

Every hour of your life falls into one of three buckets:

Creation — Activities whose output gets reused

Consumption — Activities that provide immediate gratification

Chore — Activities required to stay alive and functional

That’s it.

Every email, every workout, every side project, every Netflix session — it’s one of these three.

But here’s where it gets interesting:

The activity itself doesn’t determine the category. The outcome does.

Writing code isn’t automatically creation.

Watching TV isn’t automatically consumption.

Even “productive” tasks might just be elaborate chores.

The test is simple:

Will you reuse the output?

Creation: The Reuse Test

We’ve been taught to categorize activities as “good” and “bad.”

  • Writing code = good
  • Watching Netflix = bad
  • Reading books = good
  • Playing video games = bad

This is wrong.

Creation isn’t about the activity. It’s about whether the output compounds.

Consider:

  • I built 11 products no one uses → Consumption (I enjoyed building them, nothing more)
  • I watched Suits and use the mental models constantly → Creation (the insights compound)
  • I wrote a blog post 3 years ago that still gets traffic → Creation
  • I wrote 50 papers no one read → Consumption (felt productive, wasn’t)

The uncomfortable truth:

Many “productive” activities are consumption in disguise.

You feel good doing them.

You can tell people about them.

But if nobody — including your future self — reuses the output, it was consumption.

This isn’t bad, per se. Consumption has its place.

But let’s be honest about what we’re doing.

The test:

In 6 months, will you (or anyone) reference, use, or build on what you did today?

If yes, creation. If no, consumption.

Consumption: The Fuel and the Trap

Consumption gets a bad reputation.

But it’s essential.

You can’t create from nothing.

Consumption provides the intellectual, emotional, and physiological fuel for creation.

Every creator is first a consumer.

Every insight builds on inputs.

The problem isn’t consumption.

It’s consumption that masquerades as progress.

The Duolingo Trap (knowledge porn)

“I’m on a 3-year Spanish streak.”

Can you hold a street conversation in Spanish?

Can you watch a children’s movie and understand half of it?

No?

Then you’ve spent 3 years consuming the feeling of learning Spanish, not actually learning Spanish.

The streak became the goal.

The app optimized for your engagement, not your fluency.

The Gym Trap (fitness porn)

“I never miss a workout, not even that time when I sprained my leg.”

Great.

Are you stronger than last year?

Healthier?

Or are you just going through motions because breaking the streak feels worse than questioning whether the routine works?

When your habit is more about maintaining the habit than achieving the outcome, you’ve converted creation into consumption.

The Chess Trap (intellectual porn)

“The only game I play on my phone for the two years is bullet chess.”

Have you improved?

Or are you playing 3-minute rapid games with zero analysis, zero study, zero intentional practice?

Playing chess ≠ getting better at chess.

Consuming chess content ≠ creating chess skill.

Good consumption:

  • Can potentially transform into creation (reuse) later (education that you eventually apply)
  • Reduces your chore load (rest that makes you more effective)
  • Doesn’t become addictive or habitual (you do it intentionally, not compulsively)

Bad consumption:

  • Feels like progress but doesn’t compound
  • Becomes a streak you’re afraid to break
  • Increases future chores (extreme example: addiction)

The question isn’t “is this consumption?”

The question is:

Is this consumption serving something, or have I confused the motion for the progress?

Chores: The Tax on Living

Chores are the maintenance activities required to stay alive and functional.

Laundry. Email. Commuting. Grocery shopping. Expense reports. Password resets. Scheduling. Formatting slides.

Nobody dreams of chores.

They’re the tax on being a functioning human.

Your chore load is a function of:

  • Privilege: Money buys time (housekeepers, meal delivery, assistants)
  • Planning: Systems reduce recurring decisions (same outfit daily, automated bills)
  • Tools: Technology eliminates tasks (AI handling email, templates for everything)
  • Luck: Health, location, circumstances you didn’t choose

You can’t eliminate chores.

But the size of your chore bucket directly determines how much capacity remains for creation and consumption.

High chores = life leaking away.

Every hour spent on chores is an hour not spent creating or meaningfully consuming.

Chore optimization isn’t lazy — it’s strategic.

Some people scoff at “productivity hacks” and “life optimization.”

But when you reframe it as chore reduction — reclaiming hours for creation or meaningful consumption — it stops being about hustle culture and starts being about autonomy.

The goal isn’t zero chores.

It’s minimum chores.

Enough to maintain function, not so much that your life becomes maintenance.

The Ratio: What Mode Are You In?

Here’s where the framework becomes actionable.

At any point in your life, you’re in one of two modes:

📈 Growth Mode: You want to become more — more skilled, more impactful, more capable.

In growth mode: Creation >> Consumption

You’re producing. Shipping. Publishing. Building things that compound.

Consumption exists to fuel creation, not to fill time.

🔋 Restoration Mode: You need to recover, recharge, or simply enjoy the fruits of previous work.

In restoration mode: Consumption >> Creation

And that’s okay.

You’ve earned it.

You’re refilling the tank.

The key is intentional, meaningful consumption — not numbing, habitual consumption.

In both modes:

Minimize chores.

High chores indicate inefficiency regardless of your mode.

Whether you’re trying to create or trying to rest, chores steal capacity from both.

The Audit

Here’s your homework.

For one week, track your hours in three columns:

[ Creation | Consumption | Chore ]

Be honest.

Apply the reuse test.

Don’t let “productive-feeling” activities automatically count as creation.

At the end of the week, calculate your ratio.

Most people discover:

  • ~10% Creation
  • ~30% Consumption
  • ~60% Chores

High performers often show:

  • ~40% Creation
  • ~30% Consumption
  • ~30% Chores

The difference isn’t talent.

It’s allocation.

The Question

So here’s what I want you to sit with:

What mode are you in — and does your ratio reflect it?

If you’re in growth mode but your creation percentage is low, something’s wrong.

Either your consumption is excessive, or your chores have expanded to fill available time.

If you’re in restoration mode but you’re not actually restored — if you feel burned out despite “relaxing” — your consumption might be numbing rather than nourishing.

And if your chores dominate regardless of mode, that’s the first thing to fix.