An Adventure

Yesterday I went on an adventure. I was really stressed about work and someone said something that really upset me so at sunset I went to the Northwestern lakefill to cry and yell at God. However, when I arrived, instead of finding a quiet spot to immerse in my despondency, I decided to do something reckless.  

Every time I cross the bridge to the lakefill, I think of my grandmother. I remember she would take us to the lakefill and I would pester her to take me to the small beach island that was blocked off. She never physically took me there, but I had dreams that she had. And I decided to fulfill the dream that night and tread upon the sand I've always longed to touch. 

So I dangerously climbed and ran across the huge rocks and I noticed two boys climbing beside me. I overheard them talking about discovering places and I told them- I'm going to that beach- do you want to join me? and they did. They asked me if I was one of those wild girls who like to party and I said- no, I just like going on adventures.

At first we climbed to the rocks closest to the beach, but though the distance between the beach and the rocks was short, the water in between was very deep. So we walked to the other side, climbed three fences, went through construction, and dropped down on the grassy sand onto the beach I had dreamed about. 

The first thing I did was run to the shore facing Chicago and then I walked the edges of the water feeling the differences in sand with my feet. After getting my fill of the beach and walking on every exposed grain, I started talking to the boys. They were two incoming freshmen, went to ETHS, enjoyed climbing trees, and had a keen interest in astronomy. They shared with me the things they loved. The more outgoing boy loved seeing creatures in their natural habitat and loved collecting shells. The shy, but deeper thinker told me of his dreams to go to space and invent a flying car. Of course we bonded. 

As we were leaving the beach, the quieter said to me, "The world would be a better place if everyone else was like you," and immediately I knew why he said that. These two boys were black and stood out among the affluent white people exercising by the lake. While they were running across the rocks and trying to reach the beach island- I saw many people give them looks and one lady even verbally berated them. Whereas no one even gave me, an unassuming baby-faced female, a second look.

I asked him about what he thought made people good and bad and if it was possible to have one without the other. Then he told me a little about his experience growing up as an ambitious black male in Evanston, how he was shocked that no one had stolen their bikes which were left  unlocked 15 feet away from us, and his visions for the future. 

Afterwards, I cajoled them into trespassing the construction area to go to roof of the new music building. This was my third attempt to enter the new music building since its foundations were laid but failed again and almost got caught. I should be arrested. haha. The world definitely would not be better if everyone was like me.

Anyway, after being attacked by a bat, I decided to leave. They asked me if we would see each other again and I gave them a convoluted mysterious response about the future.

But my soul was still restless and so I got in my car and drove to another beach in a northern suburb. Unlike the lit up blocked off beach at the lakefill full of people, this was was open, empty, and completely dark. It was a cloudy moonless night and there was just enough light to watch the waves crash onto the shore.

Alone, I stood at the edge with my feet covered with sand and water staring at the dark abyss of the horizon. I stood there for an immeasurable amount of time letting the waves wash over me. I realized that there is so much to learn from nature- not only from a scientific standpoint, but about life as well. In my mind I thought of the life and river metaphors I've read and how and why waves had a calming effect on people.

But more importantly I realized that water smooths, erases, and heals. And that the painful experiences that created craters in my life and the cemented imprints that people left in my heart would also eventually be leveled by the constant beating of time
and perhaps lead me to new shores. 

Plastic Injection Molding Project

Ever wondered how your old toys from McDonalds were made? Last quarter I took a Mechanical Engineering project class on plastic injection molding. Basically, the majority of plastic items (including  McDonalds toys) are made through a process called Plastic Injection Molding.

 In this class we split into about 15 teams of four and each team had to make a plastic injected part. It sounds so simple it but it is a very complex, stressful, and involved process. This project was also a competition so the best three teams got a prize.

 Brainstorming- What kind of carousel we wanted to make. The pic on the left is a 3D render of a carousel I made for a CAD class last year.

After much thought and Ad's stroke of brilliance (she thought of doubling the bottom and top), we designed and drew out the separate parts. Initially we were having a lot of trouble simplifying the carousel into something we can make- but in the end we came up with an intelligent design that could be made with repeats of three distinct parts.

Then we had to make 3D computer models of our parts.

Plastic Injection is essentially pushing melted plastic into a mold. For this class we had to make our own molds. Each mold has two halves which come apart after the plastic is injected. Here are the mold designs- we had a constraint of 2 molds (4 mold halves). We put the horses on one set and the base and column on the other. Our mold design was efficient, economic, and intelligent since we designed the molds so that plastic would flow evenly into it..

In order to make our molds, we need to get block of Aluminum and cut it down to the exact shape and size of our computer modeled molds. A CNC machine can cut everything automatically. We can tell the CNC machine how to cut it by making the programs in UG NX, generating the code, and then uploading it into the machine via floppy disk (i know- so old school). Here is a snap shot of a program. The light blue lines represent the path of the cutting tool but they are so close together it is hard to tell.

Here is a CNC machine that is similar to the one we used.

Pic of tool cutting a metal block to make one of our molds.

So after so plastic injection moldig all we had to do was assemble them to get a cute carousel. Did i mention that it spins around too?

My SolidWorks render of our carousel.

So we won second place in the competition!!! The judges granted us second cause they were impressed by our part and mold design. I was surprised cause we were the only newb team that won anything. I really enjoyed the project and my team.

 Anyway, here are a few of the other group projects.

This won first place. Although it looks very simple- inside of the fish it is quite complicated. They won because the engineering behind their project was perfect.

Analysis of performance and literature

I know this is long, so bear with me.

Spring quarter has just started and as a engineer, I am required to take a public speaking class. But there is an alternative course that I could take instead of public speaking; Analysis of performance and literature (Anal Perf). Of course I went for that one. I am not good at public speaking and I heard that Anal Perf was a lot of fun. But when I actually took time to read the syllabus, I was horrified. Basically, in this class we read literature and then we perform it. This means that I HAVE TO PERFORM. It's hard for me to explain how scared I got when I read that I had to perform. It was like I was gripped by intense fear, my heart started pounding faster, and I even started sweating. I am not comfortable with acting, or anything related to it, so I was ready to drop that class and go for public speaking.

But SWolffy encouraged me to try it out. And I did. I found that it is actually really fun. It's not like acting, it is more like story telling and being creative with the story. Our first assignment was to think of a significant moment in our life and perform it. It took me a long time to think of my story and was not easy for me to tell. It was one of those embarrassing stories my sisters liked to share about me. Anyway, when it came for me to perform, I sat in a chair under the spotlight and began

Hi, I'm Esther. A little background about me is that my mom is Asian and my dad is Caucasian, and when I was little I was really really shy. Now when I entered kindergarten I was at the peak of my shyness. My kindergarten teacher, Ms. Wilmoth, was a huge old lady with wispy white hair who absolutely loved children. Her love, however, was a little too affectionate. She would make all the kids line up before they went home and kiss them on the top of their heads. Any normal person would have thought that she was such a sweet old lady, but I thought she was darn scary. At five years old, I was freaked out by this huge old lady who tried to slobber me. So naturally, as the shy kid I was, I couldn't gather to courage to talk to her.

But she kept trying to get me to talk; to the point that it was embarrassingly annoying. Then, at the end of the first week of kindergarten, she gave up and asked me if I spoke English. Then I replied in perfect English, "No, I don't speak English." Now English is the only language I know and I don't know what led me to tell Ms. Wilmoth this, but she believed me and immediately assumed my nationality. Then, as quick as a flash I was swept to the classroom next door.

This "new class" was the class for the Spanish speaking children. Even though I was really confused, I liked the "new class". The Latino teacher sang us Spanish songs, read books in Spanish, and the only thing I needed to do was to clap my hands to the beat of the songs. However, my mom was not pleased with this "new class."

The day after I was put into the "new class" my mom came to my school at the end of the school day. I remember I was struggling to put on my coat to go outside and I looked up and saw my mom storming into my classroom. I was horrified to see my mom barge into the classroom with one of the most scariest faces I've ever seen. After all the children had left, my mom sat down with Ms. Wilmoth to have a little talk. I was at the other side of the room playing with blocks, completely ignorant of the situation. But when they were done, I looked my mom's face and I knew I was in trouble. She took my hand and we went into the car.

For a while she didn't say anything. Then, she looked at me from the rear view mirror and said, "Esther, I know right now you are very shy. But I know that one day you will grow out of your shyness. So Esther, stop being so afraid."

The Giver Revisited

A little more than a year ago, I was inspired to draw The Giver. This has been one of my favorite books as a child, and still has significance to me now and I wanted to capture the expression on the aged man's face.



My first attempt last year took about 1- 2 hours. It looks kinda strange.


Recently I drew it a second time with much detail and thought. It took me longer.




I will continue drawing the giver. Maybe it marks something for me. I don't think I will ever be satisfied with my drawings until I get the expression right.

I don't want to draw faces, I want to draw the captured expression.

March 30, 2010

It's one of those things a person has to do;
sometimes a person has to go a very long distance out of his way
to come back a short distance correctly.
-"The Zoo Story", Edward Albee

Bad Tidings Dressed in a Yellow Suit

I am laying on my bed
the afternoon sun hides from sleepy eyes
running yellow bicycles around my brain
reminding me of that yellow ticket on my desk

Darn why did that happen?
He was just filling his ticket quota
for the ending month
Everyone knows policemen are corrupt anyway

It's just one earthquake after another
Oh here comes the starving child
arms like tree branches begging the bright warm sun
It's that color again

Yellow
On the surface it promises a brighter future
of sunny happy days
but the rays of light are fouled by material greed
like gold mines

I want it to end
but I'm already at the end waiting for the start
You can never end yellow though
It's all around--- it's freaken everywhere
It used to be one of my favorite colors
I'll just have to change it into a new color then.

March 11, 2009

But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at. I am not what I am.
-Othello , (I.i.57–65)

The Library

It was in one of those strange cubicles at the library
conjoining four tables together
like petals on a violet
but separated by walls of oak

He sat in the table next to me
Boisterous noises and shuffling interrupted the silence
like a whistling train going through at night
I could see him in the cracks of the wall
looking in between the petals

I watched for a while
didn't care
and we went on with our business
pretending we weren't next to each other
fallen petals from a flower

Life as a student

Caffeine induced rambles
Burnt out brains
Last minute homework scrambles
and back pains

Money going into a hole
That just gets deeper
No sleep takes a toll
and speeds the grim reaper

Balding due to stress
Huge bags under swollen eyes
My life is such a mess
Rotten fruit for the dirty flies

Maybe I'm too dramatic
Or I'm just really tired
It's not that traumatic
I just can't get what I desired

Some of my art

Home


Holding Onto Happiness


Why is it you?


Speak for yourself

Not good quality pictures, but mine nonetheless. They are all quick sketches/paintings in my moleskin. I have no time to do anything big.

So...

One of my favorites

My prime of youth is but a frost of cares,
My feast of joy is but a dish of pain,
My crop of corn is but a field of tares,
And all my good is but vain hope of gain;
The day is past, and yet I saw no sun,
And now I live, and now my life is done.

My tale was heard and yet it was not told,
My fruit is fallen, yet my leaves are green,
My youth is spent and yet I am not old,
I saw the world and yet I was not seen;
My thread is cut and yet it is not spun,
And now I live, and now my life is done.

I sought my death and found it in my womb,
I looked for life and saw it was a shade,
I trod the earth and knew it was my tomb,
And now I die, and now I was but made;
My glass is full, and now my glass is run,
And now I live, and now my life is done.

-Chidiock Tichborne, at the eve of his execution

Old Walkways

Today, I walked on that old familiar road from my childhood. It finally got warm enough for the snow to melt and the air smelled like damp wet leaves again. The sound of the melting ice dripping from the garage rooftops and the eerie fog made me feel as if I was walking through an enchanted forest of apartment complexes. And as I walked through the alley behind the place I used to live, a memory emerged from the fog and struck a chord within my heart.

My grandmother's wrinkled hand completely enveloped mine; it was like being wrapped in a warm blanket. We were walking to that place on a sunny spring day. I was so young I didn't understand. I did not know her language, her past, her culture, or even her name. I did not realize how strange she was here and that she did not belong. All I knew were those piercing cat-like eyes, those hard working hands, and that she completely belonged in my world. Her hand steadied me as I skipped across the crumbling cement. In that moment, I was happy and light. My heart was so light that when I leaped into the air, I felt as if no intrinsic force could bring me back down.

As I walked through this alley again, I could almost see the ethereal memory playing within the fog. I saw the little girl glancing upward at her grandmother with vibrant eyes that reflected the sun. But they are both gone now and I can't even... She is gone now; nothing but memories and tear stained ashes. They walk on the air blind to my trudging burdened body. Gravity has such a strong pull on my heart that it is now laborious to even walk. Age has taught me that growing up also comes with great knowledge, sorrow, and strength. And I know that as I grow older my heart will only be pulled deeper into the ground until it is buried into the earth.