Growing up, I was always the kid who wanted to try everything — music, writing, investing, YouTube. I didn't have a plan. I had energy and curiosity, and I threw myself at anything that seemed interesting. That restlessness taught me something important: I wasn't looking for a hobby. I was looking for something worth building.
The lesson I learned from those early years was simple: try new things, try different things when you're young. When you have a thought, go do it. You won't regret it because if you don't do it, you will regret it. That's why I keep trying new things. Music, writing, investing — these are things I've been doing all along. But if I find out that something is not for me, not my goal, not something I would do for life, I just try another thing. That's how I discovered what truly matters to me.
College at UCSD opened a new world. Data science, engineering, the first taste of what technology could actually do. Then CMU sharpened everything — systems thinking, product design, the craft of building. I started to see that the gap between an idea and something real was bridged by one thing: execution. I wanted to be on the execution side.
UCSD gave me the foundation — data structures, algorithms, the basics of how software actually works. CMU pushed me further. I learned to think in systems, to design for users, to ship products that people actually used. That's when I realized: ideas are everywhere. Execution is rare. I wanted to be someone who executed.
Steplify.ai was born out of genuine conviction. I believed in the problem. I believed in the product. I put everything into it — time, energy, money. And it didn't work. The market wasn't ready, the resources weren't enough, and a hundred small things went wrong in ways I couldn't have predicted. It's dead now. But I'm not bitter about it.
Steplify.ai was supposed to be the solution to workflow chaos. I built the MVP, talked to users, iterated on the product. But timing matters. The market wasn't ready. Resources were tight. And honestly, I made mistakes. I learned that building something great isn't just about the product — it's about timing, resources, team, and a hundred other factors. The failure was painful, but it was also the best education I could have asked for.
Steplify failing didn't make me want to stop. It made me want to build better. I learned more from that one failure than from any class or job. I learned about timing, about product-market fit, about what it really costs to build something from zero. Most importantly, I learned that building is my path — not because it's easy, but because nothing else feels as real.
Failure taught me that building is hard, but it's also the only thing that makes sense. I learned to appreciate the process, not just the outcome. I learned that every failure is data, every mistake is a lesson. Most importantly, I confirmed that building — creating something from nothing — is what I'm meant to do. The path forward became clear: keep building, keep learning, keep shipping.
I'm working as an AI Product Manager now — building systems, tools, and workflows that matter. But the job is context, not the destination. The real mission is bigger: build things that compound over time, share the process honestly, and attract people who think the same way. This website is part of that. Everything I do from here is in public.
Right now, I'm focused on building data platforms that matter. But more than that, I'm building a practice of building in public — sharing what I learn, documenting the process, and connecting with others who are on the same path. This website is part of that mission. It's a living document of growth, a signal of what I care about, and an invitation to connect with people who think similarly.
