Dave
Rauschenfels

Around that time, ICANN released lots of vanity domain suffixes, and I saw that ".dog" was available. I thought, well, ideally I'd love to have my own business someday. I didn't have a clear idea what that would be—consulting gigs building websites, maybe. A creative endeavor. I'd capitalize on the Moksha name and write some blurbs about the concept of moksha—somehow without offending anyone whose faith takes the concept seriously with a specific definition. Redemption for the dog AND for me.

I'd been asking myself the wrong questions for years: How can I better focus on the development task in front of me without being distracted by the wider picture, by ideas I have that aren't what my team needs me to focus on right now? My brain works differently. I see connections, patterns, and possibilities that others might not prioritize in the moment. That's not a weakness—it's just different.

I had mixed feelings about it because I immediately found myself getting entrenched in another enterprise software ecosystem. But I also figured I was coming to professional web development too late (in retrospect, no—I was just comparing myself to other people). Salesforce felt like a quick career reboot with less competition since it was a niche. I was wrong about that, especially realized within two or three years, and now I couldn't even define to you exactly what Salesforce is.

I want to make it easier for the people who rely on the data and systems to do their jobs and support the mission. It's simple. But it often doesn't feel like that when you're in it.

I excel at seeing the big picture while understanding the details, translating between technical and non-technical stakeholders, and finding creative solutions that actually work for how people work. I want to build systems that make sense—not just technically, but for the humans using them.

I'm not going to load it up with jargon—well, not until I actually need jargon. My brain explains things differently. I want to work with people who are open-minded about that, who value clarity over corporate-speak, and who want a partner who genuinely cares about making their work easier.

I've spent decades pondering what I want to share and where it belongs—essays, photos, interests. I've had public blogs, two sites about music. I've written A LOT that I've never shared. The outlets to share haven't been lacking over the last couple of decades. But there's been fear there.

If you've read a little about neurodivergence (and seriously, you don't have to be neurodivergent to have experienced this), you know about masking. It's not "pretending"—it's doing your best to manage what you suspect are thoughts and ideas that don't fit the expected mold. That might seem contrarian or just... different. This site is me working through that. It's professional, yes. But it's also honest. If that resonates with you, let's talk.