I never saw myself as a tech guy. Even as I studied computer engineering at school.That was why, halfway through college—and in the middle of that small upheaval called the pandemic—I switched to English and copyediting. I saw myself as a writer. Nothing more.But labels can be limiting. And two years after I left my engineering behind—two years after I traded complementary metal-oxide semiconductors for The Chicago Manual of Style—I became conscious of contradictions in how I had constructed myself.Here was a researcher who redesigned and created websites. Here was an editor who built a computer. Here was a manager who couldn’t help but fall into IT work.Here was a writer who procrastinated by coding.I came to realize: Code is poetry. Coding is storytelling. And it’s little different from what I’ve always wanted to do.I’ve told dozens of stories, met hundreds of people, and touched the lives of thousands of students and local residents. But it was only when I came to terms with my incoherence that I began to feel that my own story made sense.I make words for Datamuse, a search engine company. I make words—more technical but words all the same—for South Hall Literary Magazine, a publication for college graduates. In both cases I tell people: This thing exists. You should care because of the craft, and you should care because here are others who care.I am, then, both a tech guy and a writer—a writer of human-speak and machine-speak. And I am not afraid to let, sometimes, the machine speak for me: I ask it to critique my work, and I have it create outlines and boilerplates that I then extend.I look forward to becoming part of your own story, augmenting technologies with the humanities.