Our Space Program, our Youth, and their Future Together

"We're not ending the journey today, we're completing a chapter of a journey that will never end...the thousands of men and women who gave their hearts, souls and their lives to the cause of exploration ...let’s light this fire one more time...and witness this great nation at its best.  The crew of Atlantis is ready for launch.” -Cmdr. Christopher Ferguson, STS-135

The last gap we saw in American human spaceflight history lasted six years, between Apollo-Soyuz and STS-1.  Now we stand, as a nation who put the first man (and eleven others) on the moon, with a hazy and questionable future of space flight before us.  We must rely on foreign nations to take our men and women to space.  Now, I should add a disclaimer: while I greatly admire NASA, the Space Shuttle program, and the thousands who made it possible, that doesn't change what it was: an over-budget project that failed to achieve its original projected goals of frequent flights and cost reduction for launching payloads.  It was time for the Space Shuttle missions to retire, and we mustn't blind ourselves to the lessons we must learn for the future.  Nevertheless, I am putting these issues aside for the purposes of this post.

I had the privilege of witnessing the last launch from 6.5 miles away on the closest public viewing grounds at the NASA Causeway.  Roughly one million were predicted to be in attendance for this final mission, and an overwhelming sense of fortune graced the premises.  With a 70% scrub looming over the giant orbiter in the form of a weather delay and a particularly short 3-day launch window, everyone was holding their breath.  As the individuals in the firing room each gave their blessing, some squeaked in their last good-byes in the form of "it's been a pleasure," or "for the last time, we are a go," as three-letter acronyms methodically made their way out of the speakers.  OTC? Go! TBC? Go! PTC? Go!...it was hard not to cry.  

The moment stays with me as I fly home to Seattle from Orlando.  As I board the first leg of my flight, I notice a young boy--he couldn't be more than 12--sitting next to me.  He has a shirt with Atlantis printed on it, and a backpack advertising an academic space program for youths.  This immediately inspires me, and I attempt to begin conversation with him:

me: I assume you got to see the space shuttle launch?
boy: (quietly) yeah.
me: Cool!  Is this a school program?  Where are you from?
boy: yeah.  I'm from Idaho.
me: That's great!  Where did you watch from?  Were you close?
boy: I don't know.  I was really, really bored.  (he turns away from me to avoid talking to me further)

At this point, I was so stunned that I was literally rendered speechless.  We put three men and a woman into outer space this weekend!  I wanted to shout at him.   There is a research lab 200 miles above our heads, built in space, by multiple countries, doing SCIENCE unbounded by the burdens of gravity!  How could a plane attached to a rocket -not- interest this young boy?  Explosions, noise, fire, outer space, and exploring are supposed to be appealing to every child with an imagination, or so I thought.  Then I remembered an article I read two years ago about the general disinterest from the public regarding human space flight, and I immediately felt a sad sinking in my stomach.

It's hard to explain to those who are not Aerospace fanatics why the last Space Shuttle mission (STS-135) is such an emotional time.  I've been trying to find proper words without going all "October Sky" on everyone, but it comes down to the delicate nature of the momentum (and thus, funding) of the aerospace industry.  This industry breathes and moves with each political decision, inauguration, new educational program, and most of all, the public's response.  

Let's rewind to Kennedy's famous speech of 1961 at Rice University:

A nation in fear

 a government with a blank check

 + a young president with charm

 united we stand, behind the exciting new space program and promise of a man on the moon 

The public was captivated by the happenings of a budding space program, in fear of Sputnik circling our Earth.  What were the possibilities opened by pushing to a new frontier?  We honestly believed that whoever won the space race was going to be the next superpower of the world.  Science fiction spoke of moon colonies, contact with aliens, time travel, and exploring the unknown, and the gap between science fiction and science reality was seeming to close at an exciting rate.  In retrospect, the amount of work accomplished by the Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo programs in such a short time is absolutely astonishing.  Money and fear moves in all industries.

Fast forward to today: we are in no state to write a blank check to any program, and our nation still lives in fear, but of other people and other issues.  One of my frequently asked questions from a non-engineer is often along the veins of, "how much money does it cost to send one of your experiments into space?  With that money, can't we feed starving people, diminish poverty, and give clean water to disease-ridden nations?"  I wish it were that simple, but really, it's not.  First, let's put some perspective on the alleged money that can be reallocated to said needs.  Did you know that the annual budget for NASA is less than the funds spent on air conditioning for troops over seas?  Think about that for a second.  NASA employs almost 20 thousand employees, runs multiple (and successful) satellite, rover, rocket, (and until the Atlantis orbiter lands, human spaceflight) programs.  These programs contribute to our understanding of far away places, have provided us with high resolution photographs of other worlds beyond our own, and provided countless technologies to our lives on Earth.  Communication equipment, life support systems and other hospital equipment, composites, water purification systems, and let's face it, even fun things like Tang and freeze-dried ice cream.  If you want to go even bigger picture and large scale timeline, let's remember Carl Sagan who reminded us that, if we want to sustain as a species, we're going to have to go exploring when our resources extinguish here.  Even if you don't believe in space development and the expansion of our living environment, then consider this: to understand our own planet better, we must know from where it came and how it formed.  These answers lie in the depths of outer space.

Back to the issue of helping those in need.  Yes, I would like to see poverty and starvation and disease a thing of the past...but are these problems really going to go away by buying more food, water, and hospitals?  These are greater problems that are more complicated than they appear on the surface, and have ties to issues such as cultural barriers and customs, geographic location, and farming capacity and environmental impacts.  Reallocating the space program's money to these problems wouldn't even put a drop in their bucket.

With all this aside, why am I so crushed by this one young boy's indifference to seeing the last shuttle launch?  Despite working for countless outreach programs, summer camps, and after-school activities, I was still left speechless and unable to come up with a proper response to change this kid's mind.  I was disgusted and disappointed by my lack of preparedness in changing the guy's attitude and making science seem cool.  I had a whole three-hour plane ride to do it, and I chickened out.

This is a trend we see in teaching kids math and science.  Improvements are not being made in the general performance of K-12 education in these fields, and we are soon to be surpassed by other powerful countries.  We're already outsourcing technical jobs, and the demand for engineers and scientists and academics are not being met.  College professors are greeted each year by under-achieving and poorly motivated students who have seen standards-based grading and do not know how to perform simple arithmetic.  Children are taught to be literally scared of math, and even worse, young girls are pushed towards "softer" fields instead of shown their capabilities in STEM.  We've learned, as a country and society, to praise the small achievements, but ignore the large flaws.

We live in a world of instant gratification.  With video games, internet, smart phones, and most information just a few clicks away, an industry based on decades of patience seems boring and unimportant.  My generation is turned off by the idea of staying on one project for over 10 years, and waiting even longer to see results.  We get frustrated, move on, and abandon.  Even a homework assignment that takes more than two weeks will convince an aerospace (or any other science field) student to switch to an easier major.  

I don't have the answers, and everything is easier said than done.  It is much easier to preach than to follow, and with so many issues calling our attention, this is not something that will be easily solved in a few years.

Why did I write this?  For a few reasons:

1. To give a better answer to the FAQ: "how was the launch?"
2. Provide a sounding board for discussion on the topic
3. Bring attention to problems that are not well-known outside of Aerospace

I hope I have done one of these things to any readers out there.  At this point, I am hoping many things, but for now, I hope that young man comes to appreciate the piece of history he had the opportunity to witness, and I hope current generations of children are given the gift of inspiration from the men and women who have called outer space their home.  

Go, go, gadget shuttle

Back in November, I had the opportunity to witness history.  Space Shuttle Discovery, third to last shuttle launch ever and final mission for the Discovery orbiter, was set to go.  I was in Orlando for the SWE conference and by some stroke of luck, Ryan was able to get tickets through the lottery to view the launch at the Kennedy Space Center Visitor's Complex.  I was excited to see my first ever shuttle launch!

However, scrub after scrub, delay after delay, the closest we got to launch was crossing the bridge to KSC before being notified of the fifth postponement due to a leak in the umbilical plate.  My heart was slightly broken, but then I remembered that the priority is astronaut safety, and not the concerns of the audience.

The second launch window was set for December, but I held my breath as the days hovered around final exams.  The window came and went without any resolution from NASA, and I had my hopes up for February.  Finally, we were set to go!

With our parties shuffling priorities and attendance, I was able to upgrade to the NASA Causeway--a mere 6 miles from Launchpad 39A, and the closest the general public can purchase tickets to view the launch.  I am a lucky girl!  I roped in two friends to come with me--Spencer from my time at Blue Origin, and fellow UW grad student pal, Eduardo.

I decided to refrain from taking photos of the launch.  Too many times I've missed an event because I was busy hiding behind a lens, and besides, with NASA close up, they were going to provide much better photos than I could ever dream of capturing.  There was so much to experience with a launch with all of my senses, that I wanted to make sure I was attentive to them all.

For kicks, I wore my Halloween costume (thanks, Nick Bradley for the idea), where I dressed as the external fuel tank.  I forgot the tube socks for the solid rocket boosters on my arms. :(  Here I am, pointing to launchpad 39A!

I love the progression of light, sound, and rumble.  The shuttle is already off the ground and in the sky when you hear the first low roar, and after yet another delay, the tremors propagate beneath your feet.  The sheer amount of financial, material, and mental resources to put together a single flight still boggles my mind (each of the SSMEs pumps enough fuel to fill an Olympic-sized swimming pool every half a minute!), and yet, it is a somber feeling to know that we are indefinitely closing a chapter to human space exploration, and will never return to the political and public momentum of the Apollo era.

photo courtesy of Spencer

I'm really lucky to have witnessed this.  It's a tempting thought to return to KSC in order to bid adieu to Endeavor and Atlantis, but I am happy to know that my generation has a chance to revive space exploration.

[Reverb10] Moment

December 3 – Moment. Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors). 


I, like most people, would equate the feeling of being alive with the surge of adrenaline in our veins.  Oftentimes, it's a reminder that we straddle a razor-thin line of life and death.  This could be intentional, or completely unexpected--never as much fun when it's the latter, I might note.


An anecdote that comes to mind is when I was in Maui this summer.  We were hiking in the Haleakala National Park, and checking out Oheo Gulch.  We stopped by one of the large pools to take a swim, and noticed some people jumping off one of the rock ledges into the water.  It was maybe a 20-25 feet drop, and sure looked like fun.  Normally, I wouldn't partake in something like jumping off a cliff (even a baby one like this), but I was trying this new "spontaneity" thing out.  Before I had a chance to convince myself it was too scary, I scrambled over to the ledge--now I had no choice but to take the dive.  


My legs were shaking.  My feet slipped on the wet moss--I thought I was very well going to break an ankle in my stumbling.   You see, I've never been a great fan of heights,  but I've been convincing myself this year that life would be more fun if I were brave.  So, I literally took the plunge.

[Reverb10] Writing

December 2 – Writing. What do you do each day that doesn’t contribute to your writing — and can you eliminate it? 


Ironically, doing things that give me reason to blog.  :)

[Reverb10] One Word

"December 1 – One Word. Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you?"

Tenacity

I'm thankful for the overabundance of opportunity I've had this past year.  I owe a lot of people for their patience, kindness, humor, and bravery.  As I watched myself and my friends eek towards graduation and starting new lives, I realized I was closing in on a fleeting window in my timeline.  


If I were to pinpoint a turning moment, I might have to give credit to Ignite Boulder.  Ok, ok, it was technically in December 2009, but it was a waterfall effect that began in January 2010 that seemed to kick things off.  I received an interview offer in January from Funovation after their VP of Sales attended Ignite Boulder 7, and then shared the link to my talk to the rest of the office.   Reasons raced through my head as to why I shouldn't have even interviewed: they're looking for someone with an electrical background, you're busy enough as it is, you really need to focus on grad school and not get a job...yet, despite all of this, I knew this was one of those "once-in-a-lifetime" opportunities that every Hallmark Channel movie has waxed poetic about.  I mean, let's be honest...working as an engineering intern for a company called Funovation?  Baller.


Despite my fears, things ended up working out.  Thanks to their flexibility, we were able to compromise on a schedule that allowed me to enjoy time outside of work and school, and contribute to the company as a productive employee.  I ended up staying with the company longer than I intended (pretty much right before I left for Seattle), and I have no regrets.  It was honestly one of the coolest experiences of my life, and an honor to hold the title of former Intern Funovator, or Fungineering Intern (depending on the day).  I'm pretty confident that no other job I will ever have will hold as many surprises and smiles as this one did...after all, there's no way you can compete with a lunchtime piñata.


After the "Why not?" attitude carried me through January, I decided to apply it to the rest of the year, ESPECIALLY after graduation.  I had a five-month span to enjoy academic limbo, and that was exactly what I was going to do.  This is where tenacity comes in.  Anything that sounded like a goal, something within reach, I was determined to do it.  I wasn't always successful (never got around to riding my first bike century in 2010), but even the attempts were worth it.


What about 2011?  Hmm.  It seems cheesy to ask for the same word to apply to two consecutive years, so I will choose a different one.  When I think about the things I'd like to have accomplished in one Earth-Sun revolution from now, my mind mostly turns to my research (I believe I will be taking my qualifying exam in 2011), as well as the new hobbies I've picked up this past year.  Thus, I'd like my word for 2011 to be:

Confidence

I'm reminded of a recent conversation I had with a new peer at UW.  I invited someone to come mountain biking with me, but immediately confessed that this was my rookie year.  This was shortly after I agreed to buy a season pass to a ski area with someone else, and confessed my lack of skills on the slopes.  This is when said peer turned to me and said, "wait, so let me get this straight: you're not good at mountain biking or skiing, but you do both as often as you can?"  I smiled and asked, "how else are you supposed to get better?"

[Reverb10] What is Reverb10?

Just heart about Reverb10, the annual, creative blogging effort to "reflect on your year and manifest what’s next."  Since I'm too much of a commitment-phobe to participate in NaNoWriMo, I think this might be broken up into small enough chunks that is feasible.


Looking for their prompts every day, and hoping to address them all.  Seeing that it is December 3rd and my afternoon class is cancelled, it's time to do some catching up!

Picking Up and Moving On

13 months after leaving Washington, I returned on a different mission.

This time, I'm here to stay ... for at least a while.  It's been a bit of a roller coaster, and I'm having a lot of fun adjusting.  This is a stage of life that most of my friends have already experienced when moving for undergrad, but something that is new to me.  I went to college and completed my MS in the same town that I grew up in -- I ran into old teachers at the farmer's market, watched the rise and fall of Crossroads Mall (and eventual mutation into 29th Street), and passed my preschool when going out to the bars of Pearl.

It was an emotional leave, but an exciting one.  Normally an extrovert, I felt exposed and scared my first few weeks here.  The judging had begun, and I was afraid of making a wrong move with my research, professors, homework, and peers.  Of course, I was making things out to be far more cutthroat than they actually were, and as I let my guard down, I started to enjoy myself more.  I love my department, my new friends, and the Seattle lifestyle.  I don't mind the rain or the winter darkness here, and I'm enjoying my first pair of real rain boots.

The fear that comes with the open-endedness of my degree still looms every once in a while, but it makes me think about the uncertainty that came with beginning my time at CU.  Very little of what I forecasted ended up coming true, and for the better.  The indefinite timeline of a PhD can be seen as a blessing and a curse...and based on my first two months here, I can't wait for the rest.

Guggenheim Hall - the Aero & Astro Eng Building at UW

View of downtown + Mt. Rainier from Kerry Park in Queen Anne

Mountain Biking on the Eastside during my first weeks here

Being a Grown-Up

Remember how as a kid, you think things like, "Wow, when I am a grown-up, I am going to use my money to buy toys and play with them all day.  I'm also going to eat ice cream whenever I want, and I'll be able to choose what I do and when I do it!"?

...then we grow up, and those things aren't necessarily true. Those sentiments turn to fiscal responsibility, health concerns, and general understanding of how a job really works.

Sometimes, though, I think we could learn a lesson from our former selves.  I realized it isn't entirely unacceptable to buy some toys for myself the other day. :)

New Layout and Title

I decided to jazz up the blog a bit: new colors, new title, new layout.  I think I like it...

I recently finished Rocket Men: The Epic Story of the First Men on the Moon by Craig Nelson.  I found it to be an extremely thorough and moving read.  Nelson does an incredible job of chronicling everything from the origins of the space race through the political and scientific struggles in the 60's.  From the beginnings of Mercury and the successes of Gemini to the tragedy of the Apollo 1 fire and emotional downfall of the Apollo 11 heroes, I feel as if the book embodies the hills and valleys of the exploratory human spirit.  I would like to employ some of the philosophies and mottoes I found throughout the book, hence the new title:

Ad Inexplorata

Translating to "towards the unknown,", this motto hails from the Edwards AFB, where Chuck Yeager first broke the sound barrier in the X-1, Neil Armstrong tested the X-15, the Space Shuttle made its first landings.  We are all aware that we are traveling towards our own unknowns, and what differs so much from person to person is how we handle and plan for our futures. 

Reflections on Food and Heritage

I had the realization the other day that my life revolves around food. When I'm eating it, whom I'm eating it with, what I happen to be eating, and what plans I have to alter or postpone in order to eat it. Vacations, dates, reunions...even academic/professional meetings have all revolved around the importance of a meal. At first I thought I was insane (or devilishly gluttonous) for being like this, but then I realized that everyone feels this root-connection with eating. After all, it's a common ground for all of us, isn't it?

Food is one of the few ways for me to connect with my family in Taiwan. As an ABC, I am the "American" cousin to my family, and the "Asian" friend to my peers. It's a bizarre line to straddle. The way I talk, dress, speak, act...these all point to my American upbringing. However, there are a few oddities in my childhood that separate my experience from my friends'. Food-blogger-celebrity Diane of White on Rice pinpointed it exactly: my equivalent of a lazy mac-and-cheese dinner was a bowl of udon noodles. As a kid, the blue box was an absolute treat that made an appearance only sporadically throughout my K-12 years. Most lazy Saturdays and Sundays, my parents would put a steaming bowl of udon noodle soup in front of me, full of bok choy, chicken, and fish. At one point, I enjoyed this dish as much as any other, but after nearly two decades...it grows old; it loses its splendor. As an adult who must feed myself, I can now appreciate the bowl of udon a bit more...but I still don't crave it like I crave Beecher's "World's Best" mac and cheese. I often wonder if this is a reflection upon my poor taste as a food enthusiast. Likewise, cereal was a breakfast food that I didn't fully embrace until college. A cold breakfast that goes soggy never sounded appealing to me, but as the daily rice porridge with pork and seaweed grew old, I wondered what my other options were.

Let's not even delve into the fact that I didn't learn how to eat salad with a fork (and not chopsticks) until I was 20.

My Chinese vocabulary would probably bore a 7-year-old. We'd talk about the weather, the time of day, and the names of our family members. Beyond that, we'd probably sing nursery rhymes songs before growing bored of each others' company (but not before the 7-year-old corrects me on my pronunciation and grammar). This probably explains why I can't converse with my family in Taiwan very well. As a result, Taipei can feel suffocating and restrictive, but I ache to make it feel like home. I should be able to keep pace in a conversation with my hoards of relatives, I should be able to laugh at the same jokes on TV, I should be able to order my own food without completely freezing up in front of the server. Despite these stifling feelings, I still love going back to Taiwan. There is a warmth from family that cannot be found from other sources, and the tropical land of brush paintings, red bean desserts, vespas, and 中文 remains unparalleled in importance to me.

Because language poses its own problems, food offers a whole different mode of communication. I'm not talking about eating my feelings. I'm talking about the nostalgia and welcoming feeling I get from biting into a fresh bellfruit, or catching a whiff of freshly-baked 菠蘿包. I'm not sure if others feel the way I do, but then I meet other second-gen kids like me. One of the first things we discuss is Night Market, quickly followed by a long conversation about hot pot, eating shrimp with their heads still attached, mysterious gelatins, congee, and 油條.

What implications does this have for my future eating adventures? In the past, it's led to my near death (a food allergy is the ultimate curse for the gluttonous). Recently, this has refueled my urge to regain my fluency and literacy in Mandarin. Another project for Summer 2010...

It's May?

Wait, it's May? I'm still having trouble writing 2010 on my checks.

I'm two days away from getting my BS/MS degrees...since when did this happen? I still remember wearing these pajamas...
Is this what it feels like to become an adult? Complaining about time going by too quickly?

Goals for AY 09-10

1. Complete my private pilot's license
2. Take the GREs
3. Reread my important textbooks
4. Learn Rachmaninov's Prelude in G, relearn Chopin's Fantasie Impromptu

Putting these goals here so I don't forget about them...