High school reunion planning and event coordination

I organized my 10-year and 20-year high school reunions as combined events for graduates from both Campbell River high schools. Each event brought together roughly 140 people and was designed to feel inclusive, safe, and welcoming rather than like a loosely organized night out.

The work started with communication. I had to track down former students, reach people across different social circles, recruit volunteers, answer questions, and keep the event clear enough that people felt comfortable showing up. Combining both schools made the event more inclusive, but it also meant the planning had to account for a broader group of people and expectations.

The logistics were practical and detailed. I managed budgeting, ticket sales, food and drinks, supplies, venue setup, and the overall event flow. I also coordinated safety-related pieces, including security, liquor-licence requirements, and a safe-ride-home shuttle so people had a better option at the end of the night.

I wanted the events to feel considered, not generic. That meant booking a photographer and DJ, building a slideshow, and adding activities such as a minute-to-win-it challenge to help people reconnect without the event relying only on small talk. Those details mattered because the goal was not simply to gather people in a room; it was to create a shared experience that felt relaxed, safe, and welcoming.

This project is personal, but it reflects the same kind of coordination I bring to professional work: define what needs to happen, organize the people and details, communicate clearly, reduce friction, and make the experience work for the people using it.

My branding and business card

I designed this business card as a compact expression of how I think and work. It was not just a place to put my name and contact information. It needed to communicate a broader professional identity: engineering, project management, construction, design, communication, systems thinking, and practical follow-through, without making the work feel scattered.

The central challenge was clarity. My work crosses different domains, so the card had to create a thread that tied them together. I wanted it to feel professional and capable, but still human, creative, and specific to me.

The logo combines my initials, R and C, with references to squaring the circle, the golden ratio, and a 3-4-5 triangle. Those references connect the identity to philosophy, mathematics, construction, and design. The geometry is not there as decoration; it reflects the way I tend to approach work: look for structure, understand the constraint, and find a practical path forward.

The sketched line quality was intentional. I did not want the mark to feel overly polished or sterile. The slightly drawn quality suggests thinking, iteration, and problem-solving in progress. It keeps the identity connected to the process of working through an idea, not only the final result.

The colour palette reinforces the same idea. The charcoal grey has a pencil-lead quality, which connects to sketching, drafting, and working something out by hand. The deep construction-gold adds warmth, value, and a practical built-environment association. The two-tone name treatment connects directly back to the logo so the initials and wordmark feel like one system rather than separate graphic elements.

The back of the card centres on the phrase “Make It / Make Sense.” I like the phrase because it carries two meanings at once. It speaks to making, building, and execution, but also to sensemaking, clarity, and communication. Separating the phrase into two lines turns a familiar expression into a simple statement of how I work.

The supporting line, “Design. Solve. Build. Deliver.” turns that philosophy into a process. It reflects the sequence I naturally bring to projects: understand the problem, design a response, solve the constraints, build the result, and deliver something that works.

This project is personal, but it supports the same idea as the rest of the portfolio. The card was a small physical object, but the design problem was the same kind of problem I often work on: make something broad and complicated clear enough that someone else can understand it, use it, and remember it.

Music Made Visible: Partner Dance in Victoria

I help support a small Brazilian Zouk-rooted partner dance community in Victoria by creating spaces where people can practise, ask questions, make mistakes, and keep coming back.

This is not a formal dance business, and I do not present myself as the authority on Brazilian Zouk in Victoria. I am one person helping a community grow by organizing practice opportunities, sharing what I have learned, and helping people feel more connected to the music, their movement, and each other.

A practice space people actually want to return to

The work is practical as much as it is personal. I help organize practice sessions, support community events, share music, explain movement concepts, and help newer dancers feel less intimidated.

A small dance community only works if people feel welcome enough to participate. That means the tone of the space matters. People need room to experiment, get things wrong, laugh, try again, and gradually build confidence.

Translating movement into language

My role is often informal teaching and facilitation. I help break down movement ideas, explain what I am feeling in a lead or follow, and translate embodied concepts into language that people can use.

Partner dance can be technically complex, but the goal is not to overwhelm people with terminology. The goal is to give people enough understanding that the movement starts to make sense in their own body.

Why I call it Zouk-rooted

I describe this as Zouk-rooted partner dance because Brazilian Zouk shaped my foundation, while the music and movement I connect with often reach beyond one strict traditional container.

I try to be careful with that distinction. I am not claiming to represent Brazilian culture or formalize the dance for everyone else. I am sharing the parts I have learned, the music I connect with, and the kind of practice space I think helps people grow.

Music made visible

For me, partner dance is a conversation between the music, my body, and another person. At first, it can look like one person leading and the other following. The more I learned, the more I understood it as both people following the music together. One person may suggest the movement more often, but both people are listening, interpreting, adapting, and expressing in their own way.

That is where the phrase “music made visible” comes from. A good dance is not just a sequence of steps. It expresses through timing, tone, space, weight, softness, contrast, and response. It turns something heard into something seen and felt.

A multi-step process

This project is personal, but it says something real about how I communicate and build community. I like dancing with my wife. I like sharing something meaningful with other people. I like seeing a group become friends as well as dancers.

It also shows a useful capability: taking something complex, embodied, and hard to explain, then making it accessible enough that more people can join in. It is another form of facilitation, translation, and sensemaking.

Internal project startup workflow

As Process Improvement Manager at Pentillion Construction, I built an internal project startup workflow to improve the handoff between a project being awarded and the information needed to manage, bill, and administer the work.

Before the workflow, project information could be scattered across conversations, emails, estimates, and individual memory. One person might know the billing arrangement, another might know the site contact, and accounting might not have enough context to set up the job or invoice correctly. That created avoidable friction at exactly the point where the project needed to start cleanly.

The startup workflow was designed to make that information explicit. It captured project status, project lead, client and site contacts, expected costs, billing responsibilities, important dates, scope notes, permit requirements, file uploads, and trade-specific details. It also helped handle more complicated billing situations where costs might be split between property managers, tenants, landlords, or other clients.

I built the form with auto-populated dropdowns and conditional logic so it was easier to complete and did not ask every user every possible question. The form changed based on the project information being entered, which made it more practical for real use and reduced the chance that people would skip it because it felt too cumbersome.

I also configured the workflow so submissions were automatically emailed to the people who needed the information. That helped project managers, office administration, and accounting see new work earlier and with more consistent context.

The result was a clearer startup process for awarded work. The workflow reduced reliance on informal handoff, helped accounting understand billing requirements earlier, reduced the chance of missed invoices, and made complex project setup easier to coordinate. It was a small internal system, but it addressed a real operational problem: getting the right information to the right people before gaps turned into project or billing issues.

Maintenance performance dashboard

At Pentillion Construction, the property maintenance role covers a wide range of responsibilities across roughly a dozen commercial properties, including outdoor malls, tenant spaces, and mixed-use sites. The work includes routine inspections, garbage removal, cleaning, minor repairs, contractor coordination, task tracking, and responding to issues raised by tenants, property managers, and owners.

Although the role is important, the expectations were not always easy to define. Good maintenance often goes unnoticed. When the work is done well, tenants and customers simply experience a clean, functional, well-managed property. That can make the role feel thankless, but it also makes clear expectations more important.

Small visible issues, such as mud on a front door, overflowing garbage, or damaged finishes, can quickly create complaints and reduce confidence in the maintenance team. I identified a need to better define what successful performance looked like for the maintenance role, especially because the job required more than simply completing assigned tasks.

Technicians needed to take ownership of their sites, understand priority and billing boundaries, use Trello consistently, communicate clearly, and know when work should be escalated or subcontracted rather than handled in-house.

To address that, I created a job dashboard for the Property Maintenance Technician role. The dashboard condensed the role into four key performance areas: Site Ownership & Accountability, Task Management & Prioritization, Communication & Coordination, and Professionalism & Tenant Interaction.

Each category included a plain-language summary, detailed expectations, measurable indicators, and reflection prompts that could be used for onboarding, coaching, and performance discussions. The idea was to make the role easier to understand without reducing it to a checklist of disconnected tasks.

The dashboard helped translate informal feedback into a shared standard. Instead of expectations being passed along through phone calls or individual training styles, the technician had a clear reference point for what mattered most: keeping sites visibly cared for, tracking tasks properly, spending time on approved work, communicating before problems escalated, and identifying work that should be handled by outside contractors.

The result was clearer role definition for new hires and existing technicians. It reduced billing mistakes, encouraged more consistent use of Trello, and helped management evaluate performance more fairly. It also reinforced the larger operational goal: maintenance should create confidence. Property managers, owners, tenants, and customers should be able to see that the site is being looked after, even when the best result is that nothing appears to be wrong.