You want the resume, I get it. I'll give you that too. But that's not the whole story — just proof of life.

Here's the actual story. I'm a mosaic: my mother's eyes, my father's hair, my old roommates' playlists absorbed through sheer osmosis. The Denver Nuggets, 2008–2012, loyal for no good reason except Chris "Birdman" Andersen — tattoos to the neck, hustling for boards nobody else wanted. The Alchemist, handed to me at the right low moment. The Teskey Brothers next to Ms. Lauryn Hill next to, unapologetically, the Skate 3 soundtrack. Lines from Ted Lasso, Anchorman, and The Office, quoted at inappropriate moments, always.

That's the base

Here's the part I'm actually proud of: fall of 2021, college academia handed me my ass. So I went home and picked up a welding torch — trade school, working with my hands while I figured out the next move. Then I went back and finished it, walking across the stage at the University of Puget Sound in spring 2026 with a Communication Studies degree.

Now I'm just getting started in the film world. Green, hungry, paying attention.

I don't take myself too seriously — I laugh at the hard stuff instead of letting it flatten me. But underneath that there's real empathy and respect. That part's not for sale.