A map of ideas, beliefs, and questions
My mind is a constellation of interconnected ideas. Click on any topic to explore deeper— each thought branches into more thoughts, like a living mind map.
At the center of everything I believe is one simple idea: "Love makes everything happen." This isn't just romantic love— it's the force that drives creation, connection, and meaning.
Love isn't passive—it's the most active force in the universe. It's what makes a coder stay up until 3 AM debugging, what makes an artist redo a piece 47 times, what makes someone cross oceans for another person.
When I build NeuroOS, I'm not just writing code. I'm expressing love for the possibility of understanding—love for the question "what if machines could see?"
I believe that pretending to be someone you're not is the ultimate waste of a finite life. Every person is a unique configuration of experiences, neurons, and choices—why flatten that into a copy of someone else?
This is why I'm open about being an INFP-A, about my interests in AI and games, about my philosophical wanderings. This website exists because I choose authenticity.
Technology is an extension of human intention. AI, specifically, is humanity's attempt to externalize cognition—to create minds that can help us think.
AI forces us to ask questions we've avoided for millennia: What is thinking? What is understanding? If a machine can produce poetry that moves us, does it matter that it doesn't "feel" the way we do?
I don't think AI will replace human creativity. Instead, I believe it will become a new medium—like how photography didn't kill painting but gave us a new form of visual art.
Building AI isn't just technical—it's ethical. Every system we create carries our biases, our assumptions, our blind spots. This is why NeuroOS isn't just about making AI that works—it's about making AI that helps.
I believe technology should amplify human capability, not replace human agency.
Stories are how we make sense of chaos. Every narrative is an attempt to impose meaning on the random events of existence—and that's beautiful, not pathetic.
Traditional stories have one path. Life has infinite paths. Interactive fiction bridges that gap—it lets the reader become part of the story, making choices that matter.
In my games, I try to create characters with realistic psychology—not archetypes, but people with contradictions, blind spots, and the capacity for growth. Because that's what real humans are like.
I use psychological frameworks (MBTI, Big Five, Enneagram) not as boxes, but as starting points. A character isn't their type—they're a person shaped by their type interacting with their experiences.
The best characters surprise even their creators. That's the goal.
Being an INFP-A means living in a constant tension between idealism and action, between dreaming and doing. I've learned to treat this tension as a feature, not a bug.
My mind is like a library with infinite rooms—each thought leads to another, each question spawns ten more. This can be exhausting, but it's also the source of everything I create.
I've learned to let thoughts flow without forcing conclusions. Sometimes the question is more valuable than any answer.
I believe people can change—not by becoming someone else, but by becoming more themselves. Growth isn't about fixing what's "wrong" with you; it's about understanding what you are and learning to work with it.
Every project I complete, every conversation I have, every book I read—they all become part of the constellation of who I am.
I prefer depth over breadth. One meaningful conversation is worth a hundred superficial ones. Connection isn't about the number of people you know—it's about the quality of understanding between you.
Real connection is when someone sees the messy, contradictory, constantly-evolving thing that you are—and stays anyway. It's not about agreeing on everything; it's about being genuinely curious about someone else's inner world.
Vulnerability isn't weakness—it's the only way to achieve real intimacy. This website is an act of vulnerability: I'm sharing my thoughts, my projects, my inner world with strangers because I believe openness creates possibility.
Maybe someone reading this will resonate. Maybe we'll connect. That possibility makes the vulnerability worthwhile.
• What does it mean to "understand" something—can machines ever truly understand?
• How do we build technology that enhances rather than diminishes human agency?
• Is there a "best" way to live, or does meaning emerge from the particular choices we make?
• How can stories change the way people see themselves and others?
• What would it mean to create an AI that genuinely helps people flourish?