Most of what I do for a living is systems. AI tools, automations, the quiet scaffolding that makes other people's work lighter. That part is easy to put on a resume, so here's the rest of it.
I live in a small jungle… somewhere north of two hundred plants, last time I was honest with myself about the count. There are more bicycles in my house than a reasonable person owns, a Queensland Carpet Python who is sweeter than their reputation, and several cameras I keep inventing excuses to use. If my home looks like the inside of my head, that's because it more or less is… layered, a little overgrown, and full of things I'm genuinely delighted by.
I started writing poetry as a teenager because it was easier than saying the words out loud. Then I kept a journal for more than a decade… not the tidy kind, the honest kind… and eventually ran the whole messy thing through my own analysis to see what I'd been living inside without noticing. That turned into a book about why, in almost any relationship, one person tends to like the other one more (I've been on both sides to be fair). It seems this is just how I metabolize being a person… build the tool, then read what it tells me about myself.
I'm a builder by reflex and, I'll admit it, a reluctant promoter. I've spent a lot of years making things quietly and waiting for some later, safer moment to claim them. I'm done waiting for that moment. It doesn't come. You just decide to put it out there.
So think of this page less as a brochure and more as a door I'm holding open. If you want the surface, the work speaks for itself. If you want the rest of it… the plants, the poems, the long game, the half-built ideas I'm finally learning to finish and show… come in. Tell me what resonates. If we're aligned, let's make something.