a front end developer and writer in Boston.
I worked in publishing, communications, and events before I started building websites. I like playing with new tools, while working to master the fundamentals. I love the feeling of constant creation and the ability to work with stakeholders to turn their problems and needs into elegant user experiences.
I made this React and Redux app after taking a deep dive into JS fundamentals, ES6, and some of the functional-programming paradigms on which React and Redux are based.
The ability to add multiple lists created a data structure that was a bit more complex than a standard to-do application.
I also wanted to make use of SASS, flexbox, and the Block-Element-Modifier method to create a responsive, maintainable design that follows best practices.
The American Meteorological Society needed a landing page for a podcast that could be updated by staff with new episodes.
Using ColdFusion, I created a template that loops over child pages and, using simple staff inputs, renders episodes appropriately, with different styling for the most recent episode.
While I love the power of advanced libraries and frameworks, I always try to keep in mind what tools are actually necessary for a job and what can be done with the basics.
I wanted to create a responsive portfolio without any overhead that showcases my abilities in HTML, CSS, and JS. As such, all the animations, including this slider, are coded by hand.
We do ten before lunch. We cut them. We tag them. We place them in a small pyramid so they don’t roll off the tray.
“Whoo,” says Charles, as he pulls off his mask. The top one is still beating, and I look at it a while before pulling off my own. The patient gets up, and he looks too, and we’re all just staring as the heart slows and then stops.
When I dream of my brother, I still see him at thirteen, running away from me in a game of tag, his long ropey legs making wide half-circles, his feet barely touching the ground. I feel the tightness of my own limitations in my lungs, and I wake with his sweat on my skin, his adrenaline in my blood.
The last time I saw him, he was twenty-eight and he was bordering on a deep sickness.
It is late when the child comes to get me. As he opens my case, warm light slips across the velvet lined lid, and I can smell smoke. The adults are there, sitting in armchairs, and I see that not all the smoke is from the fireplace. A man with a sharp-trimmed beard and light grey eyebrows blows clouds from his mouth. He is sitting too close to the fire, and he is burning from the inside. But his face does not change, and I am struck by the way that, though they have more moving parts than I, these people don’t show pain.