Over the next few posts I'm going to answer a series of questions about myself...feel free to answer these questions yourself - I'd love to get to know you better!
1. Walking into a coffee shop, I would order...
Usually a Chai tea. If I needed the caffeine, a small vanilla latte. But I probably wouldn't finish it. If it's the Tutor Cafe at school, a Tutor Freeze.
2. The one New Year's resolution I can never keep...
Thus far in life I've not been very good about making new year's resolutions, let alone keeping them. But it would probably be something about getting my life organized. I start out the year with the best of intentions, but I get to my first set of midterms and things go haywire: papers all over the apartment, dishes that move from the sink to the dish drainer back to the sink, empty water bottles scattered over the coffee table, my desk and the kitchen counters. And when it comes time to move out of the apartment? Fuh-get-about-it. My organization system makes sense to me and me alone.
3. Three things I'd like to have for Christmas this year...
A new camera lens. Scuba lessons in Australia. A cruise to Alaska. A good job for myself near M. A good job for M near me. A nice apartment, preferably near the beach. A Tiffany's starfish necklace.
Yes, that was more than three. But I figured I'd list them because, let's face it, the chances of getting any of the above are pretty slim.
Monday, August 6, 2007
Sunday, August 5, 2007
An Out of Water Experience
We went out last night. And by we I mean a group that includes people from work and their significant others. Of course, my s.o. is in Minn. right now, but he was there via phone for a portion of the evening. Thank goodness for engineering marvels such as the cell phone. Where would we be without them?
Going out last night made me feel quite like a fish out of water and has inspired me to create a series of posts on the "out of water experience(s)" I have.
I've found that each bar or club I've been in has it's own atmosphere, a certain characteristic that makes it unique and draws a crowd of like-minded people. Now I should say here that I'm no expert on bars or clubs, but I feel that the smattering of places I've been create a diverse sample from which to speak.
The bar we were at last night was on the beach and definitely drew the late 20s to late 30s crowd (with a few outlying ages thrown in for good measure). These were the people holding on to the last bastions of their youth, reveling in their single-dom and "escape" from the real world responsibilities many of their peers have undertaken. I'm sure that a fair number of them were engineers - an assurance stemming from stereotypes certainly, but also from years of classes with the same type of people. Let's call it engineer-dar, for lack of a better word.
From the moment we walked in, I was overwhelmed with feeling as though I didn't belong, and certainly didn't fit in. It was like walking into a group of Lost Boys who wished they were back in college going to frat parties, living out a Peter Pan-like dream to never grow older than 21. The music was loud enough that my conversations were carried out as though I were vying for gold in the Olympic-level shouting competition, despite sitting outside on the patio area. Beer was spilled all over the floor (and my shoes) by guys trying to get lucky. A couple of girls were throwing up in the bar area. It made me wonder, why do people choose to do this night after night?
I guess I can understand it when you're an undergraduate in college, or in the general 18-22 age category. You are growing up, being allowed to sample from a menu of "adult" passtimes. You are away from the restrictions placed upon you by parents. I think that experiencing this growth period, the immaturity that comes from drinking until the world spins beneath your feet, is important. It teaches you limits and makes you figure things out for yourself. Like the fact that getting sick in a public restroom on your birthday is really not that much fun. Nor is feeling like everything in the world is coming at you from behind a thick cottonball-like haze.
For many of my younger friends, the bar scene holds an immeasurable appeal; mostly, I think, because they haven't yet spent a lot of time in it. It's an adventure they've so far been denied, either due to being underage themselves or due to being in a group of friends who are all turning 21 this summer. As soon as the last one of them turns 21 (in a few weeks), I suspect there will be even more bar time in my future - a thought that makes me inwardly cringe.
All in all, this beach bar was not my "scene," as noted by my roommate when I told her the story of my evening. Lately though, I've felt more and more like this when I go into bars or clubs, regardless of their atmosphere. Is this a sign of getting older? Or, as suggested by my roomie, a sign that I no longer have a need of the basic reason why bars exist: I have a s.o. I think I'll have to re-evaluate my feelings when Matt comes back to LA and we go out. That way I'll have a decision less affected by the emotional reelings of a long distance relationship.
p.s. How do you feel about bars that charge a cover to get in?
Going out last night made me feel quite like a fish out of water and has inspired me to create a series of posts on the "out of water experience(s)" I have.
I've found that each bar or club I've been in has it's own atmosphere, a certain characteristic that makes it unique and draws a crowd of like-minded people. Now I should say here that I'm no expert on bars or clubs, but I feel that the smattering of places I've been create a diverse sample from which to speak.
The bar we were at last night was on the beach and definitely drew the late 20s to late 30s crowd (with a few outlying ages thrown in for good measure). These were the people holding on to the last bastions of their youth, reveling in their single-dom and "escape" from the real world responsibilities many of their peers have undertaken. I'm sure that a fair number of them were engineers - an assurance stemming from stereotypes certainly, but also from years of classes with the same type of people. Let's call it engineer-dar, for lack of a better word.
From the moment we walked in, I was overwhelmed with feeling as though I didn't belong, and certainly didn't fit in. It was like walking into a group of Lost Boys who wished they were back in college going to frat parties, living out a Peter Pan-like dream to never grow older than 21. The music was loud enough that my conversations were carried out as though I were vying for gold in the Olympic-level shouting competition, despite sitting outside on the patio area. Beer was spilled all over the floor (and my shoes) by guys trying to get lucky. A couple of girls were throwing up in the bar area. It made me wonder, why do people choose to do this night after night?
I guess I can understand it when you're an undergraduate in college, or in the general 18-22 age category. You are growing up, being allowed to sample from a menu of "adult" passtimes. You are away from the restrictions placed upon you by parents. I think that experiencing this growth period, the immaturity that comes from drinking until the world spins beneath your feet, is important. It teaches you limits and makes you figure things out for yourself. Like the fact that getting sick in a public restroom on your birthday is really not that much fun. Nor is feeling like everything in the world is coming at you from behind a thick cottonball-like haze.
For many of my younger friends, the bar scene holds an immeasurable appeal; mostly, I think, because they haven't yet spent a lot of time in it. It's an adventure they've so far been denied, either due to being underage themselves or due to being in a group of friends who are all turning 21 this summer. As soon as the last one of them turns 21 (in a few weeks), I suspect there will be even more bar time in my future - a thought that makes me inwardly cringe.
All in all, this beach bar was not my "scene," as noted by my roommate when I told her the story of my evening. Lately though, I've felt more and more like this when I go into bars or clubs, regardless of their atmosphere. Is this a sign of getting older? Or, as suggested by my roomie, a sign that I no longer have a need of the basic reason why bars exist: I have a s.o. I think I'll have to re-evaluate my feelings when Matt comes back to LA and we go out. That way I'll have a decision less affected by the emotional reelings of a long distance relationship.
p.s. How do you feel about bars that charge a cover to get in?
Friday, August 3, 2007
To the Moon! (Part II)
The thing with instrument choice is that it can change rapidly. You have a preliminary instrument list so you can come up with an idea about the amount of data you’re going to be dealing with (which can start the design of the C&DH and telecomm systems), but when you make a decision on the mission architecture, everything can change. But you have to start somewhere, and instruments are as good a place as any.
Mission architecture is one of the most exciting and challenging areas of systems engineering. How are you going to launch from Earth? This requires the choice of a launch vehicle, entirely dependent on the volume and mass of the payload your mission will be carrying. So…you can’t even begin to decide on this until after the rest of the mission design is nearly complete. Once you escape Earth’s gravitational pull, how do you get to where you want to go? This seems to involve complex math and a lot of turns to make use of gravity assists. Just to get to the moon there are different stages – where we will be releasing the rocket boosters from the launch vehicle, where we will be firing engines to push the payload into the correct path, where we will be entering the moon’s gravitational pull, where we will enter a parking orbit around the moon, where we will send the lander down to the surface.
Beyond that, the seemingly simple choice of an orbiter, lander, rover, return capsule can turn into a heated debate. You have to have an orbiter to communicate with Earth. But should you have a rover/lander or just a lander? The cost goes up, but your samples might not be as good. And when you launch the return capsule from the moon, should it dock with the orbiter and the orbiter come back to Earth (very Apollo-like), or should the return capsule launch from the moon and shoot straight back home? Again, trades with cost, risk, and complexity (probably just a combined term for dual increased risk and cost!).
We’re using a brand new technology for our rovers in this concept. All of the senior systems engineers we’ve talked to think we’re crazy for using it, but I’m of the opinion that if people aren’t willing to take risks and say that new technology should be utilized, it won’t ever be used – and this is true for everything from space systems to new software. Plus using this solves so many potential issues that may come up because of the unknown terrain and surface conditions. And if we function under the idea that the technological development for this particular robot is being funded by the manned space program….well, we have several fewer issues with the cost AND we can say that it’s proof of technology and demonstration of capability for future manned missions.
Once you have your mission architecture, you can rethink your instrumentation if needed. Otherwise, you start work on specific subsystems. Some become more challenging than others, but in general you have to consider the following:
Communications
Command and Data Handling (C&DH)
Attitude Control Systems (ACS)
Thermal
Power
Radiation
Structures
Propulsion
Slowly, every part comes together, each fitting snuggly against the last. It’s like putting together a dynamic jigsaw puzzle. The nice thing about this type of puzzle, though, is that you can shave off a little of the edge if it doesn’t fit perfectly!
I am really excited to see what our final product looks like. And it seems as though other people are too – I was asked yesterday evening if the team would be ready for “prime time.” Apparently this guy has a new senior level advisor or something that is going to be on Lab next week. And one of the associate directors of the Lab thought it would be a great idea to have us present to this third-highest level in the NASA hierarchy.
It’s an amazing opportunity. But let’s just say that my stress levels are about as high as they possibly could be right now. As M said yesterday, I should be living in my cube with a case of redbull, my computer, and a pillow.
Monday, July 30, 2007
To the Moon! (Part I)
NASA's Constellation Program aims to return a human to the moon by 2020. As part of my summer internship, I (along with 10 other summer interns) have been asked to conceptualize one of the first missions for this program: a sample return mission to the South Pole Aiken-Basin. Being the eldest on the team (quite a new experience for me!), I was nominated to be the study lead.
What's interesting about this process is that it is truly systems engineering and requires a lot of "outside of the box" thinking. Stuff they didn't teach me in school (perhaps more so because I didn't study astronautics than because it is not taught). Knowing how to start the project was probably the most difficult thing: what questions do you ask the experts so you can develop a mission architecture that is feasible, cost effective, and innovative?
As an engineer, I'm always surprised at how these space missions always come back to the science. For a nation so steeped in technological growth and development, we do a lot more to advance pure science than most people realize. If there is no scientific objective to the mission, no goal that will advance the knowledge base of the world's scientists, then you can forget it. NASA (or any other agency I imagine) is not going to fund a mission simply to test the newest communication error correcting code or information theory advancement.
So where do you start? With the science. What do scientists want to know about where you're going? What do they already think is happening in that area, and can you prove or disprove it with your mission? From these science objectives, requirements are developed. Requirements are the bread and butter of systems engineers. The mission shall...An engineer working in the science area of a mission quickly becomes a scientist, sometimes shooting for the moon (no pun intended!) with ideas about what the mission could accomplish. And we've hit the key word: could. What the mission could achieve is a far cry from what the mission can achieve when the budget and engineering constraints are taken into account. The goal is to accomplish the most relevant and important science while staying within the other mission boundaries. It seems almost an art, knowing what the best science is, and certainly that is something that is never taught in school.
Next comes the instrument choice. Fueled by research into heritage missions and instruments that have done similar work for scientists in the past, engineers tread a fine line between incorporating new technology and increasing the risk of the mission. Yes, that instrument may have worked on MSL, but isn't it overkill for the Moon? Remembering the different environmental constraints and considering the communication delays for the instruments also presents an interesting challenge for the systems engineer. This is where technological innovation begins to come into play -- instruments are nearly always re-invented to a certain degree as they are used from one mission to the next. And it's not just true for the instrumentation: spacecraft, subsystems, rovers, landers, etc - nearly everything is retooled to take advantage of advances in research for every mission that is sent out.
I'll continue with this topic tomorrow - it's been a several week process learning it, so I imagine it'll be a several hour process writing about it!
What's interesting about this process is that it is truly systems engineering and requires a lot of "outside of the box" thinking. Stuff they didn't teach me in school (perhaps more so because I didn't study astronautics than because it is not taught). Knowing how to start the project was probably the most difficult thing: what questions do you ask the experts so you can develop a mission architecture that is feasible, cost effective, and innovative?
As an engineer, I'm always surprised at how these space missions always come back to the science. For a nation so steeped in technological growth and development, we do a lot more to advance pure science than most people realize. If there is no scientific objective to the mission, no goal that will advance the knowledge base of the world's scientists, then you can forget it. NASA (or any other agency I imagine) is not going to fund a mission simply to test the newest communication error correcting code or information theory advancement.
So where do you start? With the science. What do scientists want to know about where you're going? What do they already think is happening in that area, and can you prove or disprove it with your mission? From these science objectives, requirements are developed. Requirements are the bread and butter of systems engineers. The mission shall...An engineer working in the science area of a mission quickly becomes a scientist, sometimes shooting for the moon (no pun intended!) with ideas about what the mission could accomplish. And we've hit the key word: could. What the mission could achieve is a far cry from what the mission can achieve when the budget and engineering constraints are taken into account. The goal is to accomplish the most relevant and important science while staying within the other mission boundaries. It seems almost an art, knowing what the best science is, and certainly that is something that is never taught in school.
Next comes the instrument choice. Fueled by research into heritage missions and instruments that have done similar work for scientists in the past, engineers tread a fine line between incorporating new technology and increasing the risk of the mission. Yes, that instrument may have worked on MSL, but isn't it overkill for the Moon? Remembering the different environmental constraints and considering the communication delays for the instruments also presents an interesting challenge for the systems engineer. This is where technological innovation begins to come into play -- instruments are nearly always re-invented to a certain degree as they are used from one mission to the next. And it's not just true for the instrumentation: spacecraft, subsystems, rovers, landers, etc - nearly everything is retooled to take advantage of advances in research for every mission that is sent out.
I'll continue with this topic tomorrow - it's been a several week process learning it, so I imagine it'll be a several hour process writing about it!
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Gross Monotony
It is amazing to me how much wasted time is blindly accepted in a workplace. And it's not just wasted time, but obviously duplicated efforts. It's like the time and effort you put into any work you do is really not considered important - to a certain extent, you're not important.
I have spent one month learning a software tool, adjusting to its idiosyncrasies, picking up the fine art of interpreting the results and identification of clouds versus smoke vers fog, etc. I have been bored out of my mind at the tedious nature of it all - staring at the computer screen, feeling as though my right arm might fall off from excessive mouse usage. And for what? To be told today that there is yet another update to the software. And despite the developer's prior assurance, post-processing of the data is not possible. So the original estimate of having to redo about half of the work I'd already completed is inaccurate. What is more accurate? A complete revision of all of the work that I have done up until this morning's software update. Anything that I'd finished prior to this? Completely useless.
And all of this so scientists at Harvard can write their PhDs and publications, possibly never understanding what went into getting them this data. And we're still waiting for the 7 years of raw data for the remainder of the country.
My summer is stretching out in front of me like the vast Sahara desert with no oasis in sight.
I have spent one month learning a software tool, adjusting to its idiosyncrasies, picking up the fine art of interpreting the results and identification of clouds versus smoke vers fog, etc. I have been bored out of my mind at the tedious nature of it all - staring at the computer screen, feeling as though my right arm might fall off from excessive mouse usage. And for what? To be told today that there is yet another update to the software. And despite the developer's prior assurance, post-processing of the data is not possible. So the original estimate of having to redo about half of the work I'd already completed is inaccurate. What is more accurate? A complete revision of all of the work that I have done up until this morning's software update. Anything that I'd finished prior to this? Completely useless.
And all of this so scientists at Harvard can write their PhDs and publications, possibly never understanding what went into getting them this data. And we're still waiting for the 7 years of raw data for the remainder of the country.
My summer is stretching out in front of me like the vast Sahara desert with no oasis in sight.
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