The whole story

I started as a biologist because I could not stop watching birds. An A.S. at College of the Sequoias, then a B.S. in ecology and an M.S. in evolutionary biology at San Diego State. I spent seasons in the field on endangered species work and led weekly birding trips as a volunteer guide for four years. My graduate research on the white‑headed woodpecker was published in The Condor, with a second paper in Ornithological Monographs.

Field biology teaches a specific discipline: you record what you observe, not what you expected to observe. That habit runs through everything else on this page.

Along the way I taught: ornithology, general biology, and human anatomy as a graduate assistant, where the SDSU biology department gave me its Outstanding Teaching Assistant Award in 2004, then general biology and labs as adjunct faculty at Moreno Valley, Miramar, and Southwestern Colleges. In 2026, Moreno Valley College invited me back to keynote on a campus where I once taught. That one meant something.

Mapping birds meant mapping habitat, and that pulled me into geospatial technology. Starting in 2008 I helped field crews move off Windows Mobile GPS units and onto modern mobile GIS. In 2014 I founded Anatum GeoMobile Solutions, named for Falco peregrinus anatum, the American peregrine falcon, because the bird guy never really left. I still run it today, now moving the same industry onto handheld LiDAR, Gaussian splats, and digital twins.

Running a technology company for over a decade taught me the other half of the method: how to evaluate a claim when money and reputation ride on being right.

In the middle of that settled, technical life, I began meditating. What followed was a series of experiences my worldview had no room for. I am deliberately not retelling them here. They deserve the full context, and that is what the book is for.

What matters on this page is the response. I did not decide the experiences were proof of anything, and I did not pretend they had not happened. I wrote them down, went looking for the ordinary explanations first, and kept the file open where the ordinary explanations ran out. Some items in that file are still open. I am comfortable saying so.

Glimpses of Atlantis, Bigfoot, & Aliens: You Are Not Going Crazy; You Are Awakening, published under the name Matthew Alexander, is the record of that investigation. Part memoir, part inquiry, it follows what happened when a trained scientist began having experiences he could not explain, and what he found when he refused to look away.

The research has since put me at ancient sites in person: Giza, Saqqara, Karnak, Dendera, the temple of Hatshepsut. Standing in those places does not settle any argument. It does sharpen the questions.

Writing the book put me in rooms with researchers, experiencers, and independent creators doing serious work on subjects mainstream media underserves. Too many of them had nowhere serious to publish. Dragon Clan TV is my answer: a creator‑first streaming platform where independent voices keep ownership of their work and their relationship with their audience.

Building it also means building with AI in production, which keeps handing me a question I did not expect from the tools themselves: intelligence and awareness may not be the same thing. Making things forces the issue.

Today the work runs on parallel tracks: the writing, the field visits, Dragon Clan TV, the geospatial company, and a growing list of stages and conversations. Different rooms, same posture. Follow the evidence. Keep the wonder. Say which is which.