As developers, we’re constantly bombarded with the latest and greatest tools. New frameworks drop every month, each promising to solve all our problems with cleaner syntax, better performance, and that magical developer experience we’ve all been craving. There’s an almost magnetic pull toward these shiny new objects, a whisper that says: “Your current stack is outdated. You’re falling behind. Time to modernize.”
But sometimes (more often than we’d like to admit) chasing the shiny new thing leads us down a rabbit hole that costs far more than it delivers. Let me tell you about how I almost fell into this trap, and how stepping back taught me an important lesson about knowing when not to fix what isn’t broken.
The Problem That Started It All
My blog has been running on Jekyll since 2013. It’s built on Ruby, it’s a static site generator, and honestly? It just works. The build time for my nearly 20 pages is under a second (literally). I write in Markdown, push to GitHub, and my content goes live. Simple, reliable, boring in all the best ways.
For years, I used Disqus for comments. Sure, I’d heard the privacy concerns, but the integration was dead simple: drop in a script tag and you have a full commenting system. It worked perfectly… until it didn’t.
Over time, the quality of Disqus ads became increasingly awful. We’re talking cheap scam-level bad. Usually featuring some questionable imagery that looked completely out of place on a technical blog. Imagine trying to discuss clean code architecture while the bottom of your blog displays what looks like a dating site gone wrong.
That’s when the thought crept in: Maybe it’s time to modernize everything.
Down the Rabbit Hole
Why stick with this old Jekyll stack when there are sexier static site generators out there? At work, we’ve been using Astro, and it’s fantastic. There are beautiful themes (free and commercial) with features I could only dream of back in 2013: dark mode, light mode, extended Markdown support, and those buttery-smooth ViewTransitions between pages.
I dove in. Downloaded Astro, found a gorgeous theme, and at first glance, it seemed like everything I needed. This was it. Time to join the modern web development world.
But then reality hit.
This wasn’t going to be a simple swap. It was an investment. A significant one:
- Markdown Migration: All my custom markdown hacks would need to be rewritten to use the theme’s extended features
- URL Structure: My existing URLs were different. I’d either need to dig deep into the theme’s internals or set up a complex redirect system
- Front Matter: The metadata structure had changed, requiring me to update every single post
- Content Audit: I’d need to test every page to ensure nothing broke in translation
For a blog where I publish once or twice a year (though I’m trying to change that habit), this was starting to look like a multi-week project.
The Moment of Clarity
I took a step back and had what I can only describe as a Walter White moment: “We had a good thing, you stupid son of a b*tch!”
Wait. What problem was I actually trying to solve? Bad Disqus ads. That’s it. I didn’t need a complete platform overhaul. I needed a better commenting system.
As I researched the Astro theme more carefully, I noticed their primary commenting integration was something called Giscus. Curious, I investigated.
Giscus is brilliant in its simplicity: it’s a GitHub app that turns your repository’s Discussions feature into a commenting system. Zero infrastructure on my end, no privacy concerns, and the setup is just configuring a script from their website.
I tried it on my existing Jekyll blog. It worked flawlessly.
The Real Cost of Shiny Object Syndrome
This experience crystallized something important about our relationship with technology. The allure of modern tools often blinds us to what we’re actually trying to accomplish.
Jekyll vs. Astro build times: Jekyll builds my entire site in under a second. The last time I used Astro on a project of similar size, it took over a minute. “Modern” doesn’t always mean better.
Maintenance overhead: My Jekyll setup has been rock-solid for over a decade. Every migration carries the risk of introducing new complexities, dependencies, and potential failure points.
Time investment: The hours I would have spent on migration could be better used creating content which is the actual purpose of having a blog.
A Framework for Fighting the Syndrome
Before you embark on your next “modernization” project, ask yourself these questions:
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What specific problem am I solving? Write it down. Be precise. “The tech is old” isn’t a problem; it’s an observation.
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What’s the smallest change that solves this problem? Often, the solution is much simpler than a complete rewrite.
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What are the hidden costs? Migration time, learning curve, new dependencies, potential bugs, ongoing maintenance … etc.
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Is my current solution actually causing problems? Performance issues? Developer friction? Or is it just not the trendy choice?
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Where should my effort actually go? In my case, writing more content would benefit my blog far more than switching frameworks.
When Boring Is Beautiful
There’s something deeply satisfying about tools that fade into the background and let you focus on what matters. My Jekyll blog doesn’t win any architecture awards, but it lets me write without friction and publishes reliably.
Sometimes the most professional choice is sticking with what works. Your users don’t care if you’re using the latest framework; they care if your site loads fast and provides value.
The Bottom Line
As long as your tools are working (and I mean truly working, not just limping along) there’s often no compelling reason to change them. The energy you save by not chasing every shiny object can be redirected toward what actually moves the needle: solving real problems, creating better content, or building features that matter to your users.
The next time you feel that familiar pull toward the latest and greatest, pause. Ask yourself: am I solving a real problem, or am I just distracted by something shiny?
P.S. Since I just swapped out Disqus for Giscus, help me put this new commenting system to the test! Drop a comment below and let me know your experience with shiny object syndrome!