About
Michael

I grew up in suburban Michigan, surrounded by garages, tools, cars, and the quiet assumption that if something broke, you fixed it.

I took things apart early. I used tools before I understood the risks. I built things I'd actually use—skateboard ramps, speakers, computers—because that's how learning made sense to me.

In school, I did well by most measures. I won spelling bees. I was moved into advanced reading and math. I collected awards. But traditional schooling only held my attention when it connected to making.

The classes I loved most were simple: learn the material, then go build something.

That pattern never left.

CAD felt natural immediately—not as drawings on a screen, but as objects coming into existence. I think in feature order, constraints, and assembly. When I see an object, I see how it was made, why it was made that way, and what tradeoffs were chosen.

Engineering, for me, has always been about understanding systems well enough to intervene responsibly.

That instinct fully clicked at Oakland Schools Technical Campus in the mechatronics program. It was where I found my people.

Robotics, controls, machining, CAD—real tools, real machines, real consequences.

When I finished the Engineering and Emerging Technologies curriculum, my instructors asked what I wanted to learn next. I chose to complete every exercise in the 500+ page CAD textbook.

I was pushed into leadership roles—not because I was loud, but because I could see the whole system, communicate ideas clearly, and help others succeed inside it. Our teams placed in multiple competitions, including 2nd place in the micro-electric vehicle competition.

More than ten years later, I still return to OSTC to speak with students and contribute, including helping with the Michigan MITES competition in 2024.

I first encountered 3D printing at OSTC on an industrial dual-extruder Stratasys machine, used to print my Hummer-inspired micro electric car body. It registered immediately as a manufacturing tool—not a toy.

My first personal printer was an Ender 5 Plus, followed by Ender 3s, and later Bambu Lab machines. I didn't start with the intent to sell prints. I began during the pandemic while injured and broke, using printing as a way to stay productive.

Early results looked good, but consistency was the real problem. Belts, wheels, thermistors, nozzles, and heaters drifted out of spec. The core challenge wasn't quality—it was repeatability. That problem kept me engaged.

I learned fundamentals through failure: thermal behavior, warping, cooling, stress, and process control. Resin taught disciplined workflows. ABS taught heat management and enclosure design. Internet "fixes" rarely held up; experimentation and fundamentals did.

Unintentionally, printing turned into sales: ~3,000+ parts shipped and 1,045+ five-star reviews, maintaining a perfect five-star rating across all three rateable sections on Etsy.

At some point, printers stopped feeling like gadgets and became tools—only as good as the systems around them. I later spent four years in corporate environments designing and building electronic test fixtures and production tooling using rapid prototyping.

Today, I prioritize margin, correctness, and intent over volume. The technology evolves quickly. Fundamentals keep you relevant.

My path through college wasn't linear.

I started in computer engineering at Oakland University with strong grades, but undiagnosed health issues slowly dismantled everything. Severe food intolerance and constant illness were misinterpreted as lack of effort or mental health problems. Concentration became survival. My grades collapsed. Advisors failed me. Systems failed me.

I stepped away. I worked cleaning jobs. I rebuilt myself.

When I re-enrolled—eventually at Wayne State—I was told I had about a year and a half left. It turned into five and a half years. There was a pandemic. Advisors changed. I destroyed my shoulder and underwent the same surgery twice, exactly one calendar year apart.

During that period—injured, nearly broken, with no safety net—I spent my last $500 of credit on a 3D printer.

It felt irresponsible at the time. It paid off my debt. More importantly, it proved something I needed to know: I could build my own leverage.

I finished my degree while working 40+ hours a week, passing classes I didn't enjoy, didn't feel inspired by, and didn't want to take twice.

That's where discipline came from.

That's where grit was built.

That's where I learned how to finish without motivation.

I graduated with over 154 earned credits and close to 200 attempted—not because I took the scenic route on purpose, but because I refused to let the story end where it almost did.

This degree doesn't make me an engineer.

I was building long before it, and I'll keep building after it. But it is a marker—a notch on a long road—and a moment to honor the people who believed in me when things were unclear.

I approach engineering as applied problem-solving. The goal is not artifacts, but outcomes that work in the real world.

I prioritize correctness over speed. If something does not work, it is not finished.

I'm most effective working on physical systems: tooling, fixtures, jigs, and workflows constrained by manufacturing reality.

My process begins with defining the problem and its constraints. Interfaces, tolerances, and failure modes are documented.

"Done" means reliable performance in practice.

I rely on CAD, prototyping, and iteration, and I build a workspace first to support consistent output.