What I built, and why it all fits.
A five-minute walk through — builds and — agents that all point at one outcome. The story first, then a folder you can open into.
An operating system for landing the right job.
Not a folder of side-projects — one connected system. There are builds (the things I made: sites, apps, tools) and there are agents (the seats that run them). Every build does one of four jobs — help me learn, work the search, run my day, or face outward — and every piece points at the same outcome.
— builds and — agents, as of right now.
Everything here exists to get me into the right AI-PM seat, and to prove I belong in it by building.
Because the job I want is one you earn by building.
I'm moving into AI product management from an MIS / translator background — the person who turns technical reality into business value. You don't talk your way into that seat; you show it. So instead of studying in the abstract, I build every day, and each build doubles as proof and as a place to get sharper.
The job search is the engine. It decides what I learn next, what I practice, and what I ship.
Built to be legible, not just built.
Speak the architecture: I can name the architecture, trace the data path, and own the tradeoff on any of this out loud, because I made the calls that put them there. That fluency isn't something I studied for a room — it's what's left over from building the thing.
Map the machine: the system got rich enough — enough builds, enough agents, enough moving parts — that it earned its own map. This document is that map: the one I can hand anyone, including future-me, so the whole thing stays intuitive.
One spine. One desk. A loop that makes it smarter.
Read it top to bottom: I talk to one seat, that seat routes to the right agent, the agents run the builds, and every build draws from one spine underneath — which the interview loop feeds right back into.
That's the model — with one exception. Overnight, one lane runs with nobody at the desk: the critics' fix-lists get built instead of expiring, inside a boundary written in code rather than asked for in a prompt, and read by a seat that can see every file here and change none of them.
Below is the same thing as a folder — open a job, then tap into any piece.
Two kinds of thing. Open the folder.
Everything above draws from one private, local source of truth, using git-as-spine. It writes small, safe slices out to each surface, which redeploy on a push. One of those surfaces faces outward — Ask Blake — turning everything I learn and practice into a voice recruiters can talk to. Change the source once and the whole system updates.
Read the whole thing and one idea should stick: this isn't a pile of projects, it's a single machine with a single purpose.
One source of truth feeds every kind of work here — learning, finding and winning the rooms, running the day, facing outward — all aimed at landing the right job. Builds produce; agents run; interviews teach the system what to fix next. It's designed to compound: every day ships an output, and every output makes the next interview a little stronger.
The map itself is part of that. This page is generated from the same registries the shop runs on, which means a build cannot exist in here without appearing on it. I wired it that way after the hand-kept version quietly fell behind what I'd actually built — a system that describes itself should not be the one thing you have to remember to update.
If a stranger walked this in five minutes and said "yeah, that makes sense, it's intuitive" — the document did its job.