a front end engineer and writer in Boston.
I work for O'Reilly Media as a Front End Engineer, with a focus on React. Formerly, I worked as a Front End Developer for the American Meteorological Society, and my previous background is in publishing, communications, and events.
I created a new front end for our existing ASP.net donation app at the American Meteorological Society.
To meet the complicated business requirements of balancing 17 different potential funds with a smooth, easy-to-use front end, I turned to VueJS, allowing users to filter the different funds and see instant feedback when they enter in values.
The styling of this page is based on the theme I created for the AMS Centennial page, using Bootstrap 4 and Sass.
This was the first React and Redux app I built after taking a deep dive into JS fundamentals, ES6, and functional programming.
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 BEM method to create a responsive, maintainable design that follows best practices.
The American Meteorological Society wanted a page with a different, up-to-date theme to announce its centennial celebration.
I led design and development based on stakeholder needs. I used Bootstrap 4, in keeping with their legacy Bootstrap 3 code base, with a large amount of custom SASS and Gulp tooling. The page has since been further developed by my replacement.
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 vanilla JS.
Here's where I put all my writing on tech and web development, including project case studies and reflections on my learning.
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.