About

I got my first computer when I was around eight years old. By eleven, I was writing code that would bring tears to your eyes (but man did it work). By fourteen, I was finding bugs in software, exploiting them, and submitting patches for no other reason than the love of the craft.

I'm completely blind, and have been all my life. I grew up like any other kid. I played games at recess, professionally swam and wrestled, broke a bunch of rules, rode my bike into the ground, and generally had a good time with the scars to prove it. My blindness has always come secondary to everything else I do. I don't say this to prove a point, but because I genuinely believe it has endowed me with a unique knack for solving problems in unconventional ways. When society is not inherently designed to meet your needs, you learn ways to counter it pretty quickly. I do not believe anything is impossible unless it directly violates the laws of physics. Even then, there is usually a workaround to be found if you're creative enough.

I navigate the physical world using a white perception cane, and I trained myself to use a lesser-known technique called flash sonar. Flash sonar allows me to use sound to stimulate the brain's visual system and build a picture of my surroundings. These two modalities plus a whole bunch of other tips and tricks allow me to live an incredibly fulfilling and adventurous life.

I live in Tempe, Arizona. My primary mode of transportation is a Waymo self-driving car. I've planned out my dream car in intimate detail, but a robot chauffeur is a pretty solid substitute for now.

When I'm not working I'm probably hiking, gaming, listening to music, or traveling to a new city on zero days notice just because. Oh yeah, and I'm not a bad shot with a handgun, but that's probably a post for another day.

I'm a self-described old-fashioned hacker and jack of too many trades, which is a polite way of saying I have more projects than hours in the day.

While I don't expect everyone to share the same mindset, I value self sufficiency in everything I do, even if that means going against conventional expectations. I think this should be an option for anyone who wants it, without exception.

My work directly contributes to this goal.

The Work Stuff

I didn't plan a career in accessibility or even software development. I was just a nerd that spent too much time in front of a computer who didn't like running into barriers that shouldn't have been there in the first place. It seemed like every time I pointed out the obstacles preventing me from accessing something (unlabeled/unclickable buttons, keyboard traps, and purely visual interfaces), I got a flowery shake of the head and a trip straight to the backlog. So I decided to do something about it.

It started out by testing websites for small to medium sized businesses, then quickly blossomed into full-scale audits and remediating the code directly.

A few years ago, I was asked to lead a comprehensive training program for a large enterprise, which is where I learned that I really liked the adrenaline rush that comes from trying to explain difficult stuff to large groups of people.

I've been consulting, training, and building tools and processes to make accessibility more efficient for close to a decade now. Whether it's an audit, a training session, a product integration, or an entirely new tool, I'm happiest when the work has the potential to reach the most people. If you want to talk shop, get in touch.