Tell me about yourself.

I'm finishing my CS degree at Stony Brook, but the degree is the least interesting thing about me. While most of my classmates were applying to internships, I was building production software for a pediatric therapy agency in New York. Six products. Twelve deployed applications. Time tracking, practice management, clinical data collection, AI-powered referral automation, on-device PDF validation. All solo. All in production. Real therapists use my software every morning to record data for real children.

That happened because I said yes to something before I was ready for it. A women who runs a home health agency. She needed software. I didn't have a resume or a portfolio or three years of experience. I had a laptop and the conviction that I could figure it out. So I embedded with her staff. I shadowed therapists. I learned what HIPAA means, what a mastery event looks like in ABA therapy, why a credential lockout system matters when someone's medical license expires. I went from knowing nothing about healthcare to having 42 users across four agencies in under 90 days.

That taught me something I think about constantly: the fastest way to learn anything is to build for it. Documentation teaches you the rules. Building teaches you the edge cases. Every conversation I had with a therapist about why a certain workflow exists revealed a compliance requirement or a safety concern I would never have found by reading.

What I actually care about, deeper than code, is understanding things. I read philosophy. I train jiu-jitsu. I play guitar. I study history, the Persian Empire especially, because it's my ancestry, but also Rome and Greece, because I'm drawn to the question of what makes civilizations rise and fall. I'm a breadth-first thinker. I connect ideas across fields rather than going infinitely deep in one. That's my superpower and my liability, and I'm honest about both.