A peek into the things that fuel my curiosity, drive my creativity, and keep me inspired outside of work. Pick a category below — drag to rotate, scroll to zoom.
What gets me about fighter jets isn't really the violence of them — it's that every visual detail is load-bearing. The delta wings, the intake shaping, the way the fuselage tapers toward the nose — none of it is styling. It's the rare design object where the most aggressive-looking shape and the most aerodynamically necessary shape are the same shape.
I'm drawn to the engineering trade-offs more than any single aircraft — thrust-to-weight against radar cross-section, stability against maneuverability, the program-level bets air forces make decades before a jet ever flies operationally.
This is a different angle from the F1-as-strategy framing on my About page — that one's about decision-making under uncertainty, this one's just about loving the sport. The thing that hooks me is how thin the margins are at the top level: a tenth of a second separates a podium from a midfield finish, built from a hundred compounding decisions nobody in the stands can see.
Watching it live versus on a broadcast are almost different sports. The broadcast gives you the story; being trackside gives you the actual physics.
Orbital spaceflight is still, after seven decades, an absurd proposition: throw something hard enough that it falls around the Earth instead of into it. Every launch is a few thousand things that all have to go right in sequence, with margins thinner than people realize.
I follow this the way some people follow a long-running show — the missions, the landings, the slow accumulation of "we've actually never done this before" moments.
Good car design is mostly proportion — where the cabin sits relative to the wheels, how much visual weight is in front of the windshield versus behind it. You can tell a car's whole character from its silhouette alone, before a single styling detail.
I like the eras where constraints forced creativity — when aerodynamics, weight rules, or cost limits pushed designers toward solutions that look inevitable in hindsight but weren't obvious at the time.
These aren't just hobbies — they shape how I think, create, and solve problems.
Always learning. Always exploring.