a place for the things I've built and the things still becoming. move slow. things reveal themselves.
I make things until they feel inevitable — then I take them apart to see why.
My name is Nikola Anastasijevic. Twenty, turning twenty-one on the first cold morning of December. I build software the way some people keep notebooks — compulsively, and mostly for the pleasure of watching an idea hold its own weight.
I spent three semesters chasing Computer Science at Brock and found it was the wrong room for me. So I left, and landed in Software Development at Mohawk College — closer to the workbench, further from the abstraction, exactly where I wanted to be.
The through-line has never really changed: give me a blank file and a problem worth solving, and I'll disappear into it. Web apps are where my hands are quickest, but I've never met a project I didn't want to open up.
Different projects ask for different tools, so I refuse to be precious about the stack. Still — there are a few disciplines I keep coming back to, the ones where I stop thinking and just build.
My home ground. Interfaces and the machinery behind them, built to feel quiet and quick. Next.js and React until the seams disappear.
An automated trading bot that reads live chart data and makes its own calls — no discretion, no hesitation, just the model against the market.
Java, C#, .NET, Python — I pick up whatever the problem is written in. My strength is web, but curiosity does the rest.
Three semesters of Computer Science. Enough to learn the theory — and enough to learn it wasn't the shape of work I wanted. I left before it made me forget why I started.
Traded the lecture hall for the workbench. Chose building over abstraction, and haven't second-guessed it since.
Where I am now — heads-down, shipping. The program that finally matched the way I already worked.
My first work term, running through December — the first of two back-to-back. Real problems, real stakes, and the part of school that doesn't feel like school.
as of this writing
I'm no good at sitting still. If I'm not in a file, I'm chasing a redline, under a barbell, or halfway up something I probably shouldn't have started climbing. Cars are the constant — American muscle especially, the loud and unreasonable kind.
On theory, workbenches, and knowing when a room stops fitting you.
Notes from building a system that trades gold without me in the loop.
What restraint in design actually costs, and why it's worth it.
turn the mark and it means nothing. that's fine. not everything here is meant to be read on the first pass.