My name is David Welling.

My resume is here.

My story:  I was born to Norwegian lizard tanners, I had a poor childhood. I would often write poetry on our tenement walls using ink made from dryer lint and chicken fat. Most nights, the snow would come in through our ceiling and erase everything, so I’ve forgotten most of these earlier poems. Both my parents died in a freak Komodo dragon accident, and I was forced to face existence in the Artic Circle alone. Fortunately, a family of wolverines taught me to hunt and I was able to keep writing poetry by peeing in the snow — mostly haiku. At the age of 15, I was captured by a band of vicious Canadian slave traders and forced to write romance novels, chained to a typewriter. My only company was a 4’5″ Albanian who weighed 327 pounds. She taught me all I could ever want to know about love, but she died a few years later from the chicken pox. In my desolation, I lost the will to write, and the slavers marooned me on a passing iceberg. By happy chance, the iceberg floated to Greenland, where a North American tourist couple found and adopted me.

Today I write software, poetry and sometimes fictitious bios.

The company that employs me (Strategic Systems & Technology)  prefers me to write enterprise or consumer grade software on mobile, web and desktop applications.


icon derived from Circuit icon under Creative Commons By Creative Stall, PK

* not a significant source of bad things