Why a unique website matters (to me)
When I first put a site on the internet, I just wanted a place to link my projects. A plain list would’ve done the job. Just grab a template and fill it in with my projects.
History
Looking back on this site I realize it can be more than just a list. It can be a reflection of my personality, my life, and my workshop of thoughts. The way it looks and behaves changes how people use it, and how I show up.
I can scroll back and see the old JavaScript experiments, the awkward layouts, the posts where I was figuring out how to think. It’s embarrassing in a good way. It reminds me to keep learning.
Taste
A personal site is the one place online that can’t really change the rules on you. If I want a weird page that looks cool, it stays up. That freedom makes me more likely to actually build things.
You can’t develop taste in a vacuum. Picking colors, type, spacing, and movement forces you to decide what you like and what you don’t. Even small choices—how a link hovers, how a code block renders—add up to a point of view. A template is a fine starting point, but pushing past it taught me more about design than any tutorial did.
I don’ need permission to try a new build tool, swap a font, or prototype an interaction. The stakes are low and the feedback loop is fast. Half the tricks I use at work started as tiny experiments here.
Polarization
Turns out 99% of recruiters i have talked to do not even bother to look at my website. But the ones that do really stick out it me. Practically, a site with a little personality changes the kinds of messages I get. When the site looks like me, people write with more context: “I read that Pittsburgh post,” or “I tried your logging trick.” That’s a much better starting point than a cold LinkedIn DM.
From someone else’s standpoint, unique also means memorable, and memorable is useful when you’re a human on the internet. If you’ve been meaning to make your site feel more like you, start small: change one thing you see on every page (type scale, spacing, link color), ship it, and live with it for a week. Repeat.
In a world of algorithmic feeds, having a corner that’s yours —and looks like it— sets you apart.