I knew I wanted to participate in research because I wanted to apply the science I learned in a textbook to a practical use. I have always been a hands-on person, and I knew that by practicing science, I would have a more fulfilling time during my college career. I decided to pursue this interest during the summer before my freshman year. I decided to apply to the CSEP program known as SIMS, the Summer Institute for Mathematics and Science. During this program, I was given a small and brief opportunity to observe and feel what undergraduate research is like. Afterward, I knew that I wanted to continue my undergraduate research experience but I was unsure as to where to begin. I eventually heard about the College of Creative Studies at UCSB. The College of Creative Studies offered their students mentorship under a UCSB faculty member to help and encourage them to enter and flourish in undergraduate research during their college career. After some mentorship from CCS faculty, I decided to look into a research fellowship to further aid me in my search of an undergraduate research lab. After I got accepted into the Early Undergraduate Research and Knowledge Acquisition program, EUREKA, I received additional aid in finding a research lab. Eventually, I found a spot in the Weimb’s lab under the mentorship of Dr. Torres. Now that I have been working in the research lab for several weeks, I hope that I continue to further develop my research and lab skills. During the EUREKA program, I hope to further develop my professional and networking skills. In addition to this, I also hope to become more adept in conducting presentations in a clear, concise, and easy to understand manner. I hope that eventually, I can be a contributing member in the field of science.
“The greatest mistake in the treatment of diseases is that there are physicians for the body and physicians for the soul, although the two cannot be separated” -Plato
As my face scraped against the remembered tar of Ocean Road, I simultaneously scolded and chuckled at myself for thinking I would be able to complete the trek to the invariably clingy and overprotective Davidson Library. Regardless of my love for longboarding, it seemed as if I was on the ground more than I was on the board. I sat up to look at my friend on her bike, no doubt laughing at the clumsiness that distinguished my character, but surprisingly saw a look of horror plastered across her face. My eyes followed her gaze to a foot that was uncanny, almost disgusting in its unfamiliarity. The length of my right shin now ended in a set of five toes that were twisted 90 degrees in the wrong direction, east instead of north.
“Well, there go my summer plans.”
Thirty hours in a hospital bed, some insipid hospital meals, a few hours of drug induced comatoseness, a never ending stream of mental breakdowns, 3 fractures, 1 severely torn ligament, 9 screws and a plate in my foot later, I got a taste of freedom.
And now here I am, 8 weeks post-surgery, 19 years old and relearning how to walk on two feet.
As an aspiring physician, this experience offered stirring insight on the doctor-patient relationship I had previously failed to consider. When visualizing my future as a doctor, I imagined myself drowning in textbooks and paperwork, pulling boundless hour shifts, and cutting open bodies to perform life-saving procedures. I seldom considered the exhaustive state of vulnerability my patients would be facing. Lying on an emergency room bed with a contorted ankle and pain piercing every nerve in my body, I was surprised at how much trust I was placing in a man I had not met until a few minutes ago to knock me unconsciousness and snap my foot back into its place.
During my thirty hour stay at Cottage Hospital, one emergency room doctor, one orthopedic surgeon, one anesthesiologist, one physical therapist, and three amiable nurses all told me the same thing: in order to be a great doctor you have to be a patient first, a lesson I hope my peers take away from this article instead of having to learn the hard way.
Relating to a patient’s fear is not easy. Whether it is a terrified parent bringing in their toddler crying of a stomach ache or a naïve high schooler who blew off their hand trying to light a firework, the job of a doctor extends much further than curing the patient’s injuries. A doctor must create a connection with the patient and their families, doing their best to assuage the pummeling stresses of treatment, recovery, hospital bills, short and long term consequences, necessary medication, insurance compliance, physical therapy, the list is truly never ending. Losing control of one’s own body is a sensation mentally and physically taxing, and it is a great physician’s duty to take a few moments to relay trust in the patient who is being forced to trust them.
And I guess that envelopes the lessons I have learned this summer. Despite a lack of a summer job, a rescinded acceptance into a research lab, a forced cancellation of summer courses, and five weeks mostly spent on chess.com or binge reading Game of Thrones, I realized life is as simple as a broken foot. The nature of existence is defined by resilient circumstances beyond our control that will continue to penetrate our bubbles of comfort until the day we die, and all we can do is adapt. This broken foot has taught me to accept the things we cannot control, and try our best to control the things we are able to accept.
For thousands of years humans have stared at the night sky, naming constellations, telling stories, and making observations about the light of distant stars. Yet, for the majority of that time, astronomers were reliant on what they could glean with their unaided eye. Without a telescope, only about 6,000 stars can be seen from Earth, and from one spot you could only see about a third of those (Bryson). This is a small fraction of the 1×1024 stars that are estimated to exist. Since the invention of the telescope in the early 1600s, technological advances have gone hand-in-hand with observational astronomy, paving the way for astronomers to look further and create a clearer picture of our universe.
Before this summer, I had thought that observational astronomy consisted of a lone astronomer, or perhaps a team, travelling to be on site with a telescope and staying up all night to adjust the telescopes position and do their observations. Not too long ago, this wasn’t far from the truth. I’d seen images from the Hubble Space Telescope and some other photographs made by professionals and amateurs alike, yet I had no sense of the magnitude of technological advances that had been made in the field.
This summer I began work with the Supernova Group at Las Cumbres Observatory. Amazingly, Las Cumbres Observatory doesn’t actually do any observing on-site. Instead, they manage robotic telescopes around the world that don’t even require a scientist on-site to operate them. This came as a complete shock to me. As far as my role in all of this, I’m not sure quite what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t 8+ hours a day in front of a computer. For interested readers, my daily work schedule looks something like this:
8:30 am: Bike to work
9-5: Work at my computer
5:00 pm: Bike home
Exciting right? The first few days were grueling and frustrating. I had limited experience with programming and working at a computer all day was a big shift from attending classes and doing homework. Yet, the experience has grown on me. It is amazing how much we humans are capable of with a computer at hand.
My current job at the observatory is to create simulations for the new Large Synoptic Survey Telescope (LSST). The LSST will be one of the biggest telescopes in the world, with an aperture of 8.2 meters. (For some suggested names of future large telescopes see https://xkcd.com/1294/) In addition, LSST is completely automated, with preprogrammed directions of where to look during its 10 year survey. The telescope will take in 30 terabytes of data nightly (Lerner). In comparison, the entire NASA data set from 1955 to 2000 consisted of only 1 terabyte. There are not enough scientists in the world to sort through all this data manually (and I’m certainly glad they didn’t just decide to leave this job to the interns).
My goal is to take a known supernovae and pretend that if it were at a certain point in the sky on a certain day of the LSST’s survey. Then, try to answer the question of whether we would be able to find it again. The process of getting this code up and running has been an ordeal during which I’ve learned a lot about programming along with the science behind supernovae and the LSST. In the end I would like to be able to run 100,000 simulations for each kind of supernovae, totaling to nearly a million. Even my computer gets a bit tired out after that kind of task!
Supernova are notoriously difficult to spot, lasting only a short time, and nearly impossible to spot with the naked eye. In 1980, only one or two supernovae were discovered each year. With the advent of advanced telescopes and digital photography to record more than the human eye, this number increased to nearly 200 by 2000. As of 2012, astronomers are finding over 1000 supernovae per year (O’Brien).
Thankfully, with the billions of stars there are out there, astronomers are no strangers to big data. In fact, big data and astronomy have been going steady for a while now. However, we’re still looking for ways to improve how we can store and analyze this excess of data. Sometimes, new technology leads to great improvements in astronomy, and sometimes astronomy must push the advancement of technology.
Sources:
Bryson, Bill. “The Reverend Evans’s Universe.” A Short History of Nearly Everything. New York: Broadway, 2003. 33. Print.
O’Brien, Author Tim. “Supernova 2014J and the Upcoming Deluge of Discoveries.” Professor Tim O’Brien. N.p., 10 May 2014. Web. 08 July 2017.
Lerner, Preston. “July/August 2017.” Discover Magazine. Discover Magazine, 19 July 2011. Web. 08 July 2017.
When one thinks of “lab”, most often times, a chem lab or bio lab with pipettes and flasks pops up in one’s mind. However, as an electrical engineering undergrad, entering a new lab is always surprising because of how different different EE (electrical engineering) labs could be. You could have labs focusing in photonics, chip design, or transistor material, so each would look and feel different because of the vast variety of fields within EE.
View #1: The hopper, kitchen appliances, and some plants
As I opened the doors to the robotics lab, I was already in awe of the unique style and feel of the lab. Almost every desk was uplifted by a stage that my faculty adviser, Dr. Byl, had added in a while back. On the right, there were an array of kitchen appliances, and scattered around were nice relaxing plants. The lab not only felt cozy and at home, but also meant business at the same time. I look to my left, and I see a huge contraption that looked like a part of a Transformer robot from the movies. I found out that it was actually known as a hopper, which the lab used to study how a robot can balance and move at the same time, similar to a pogo stick.
My desk was located on the left side of the lab, and it has three great views. On my right, behind the railing of the stage, the hopper lies dormant until the lab decides to work with it again to study one-legged locomotion. The lab has a lot of open space in the middle which eliminates the claustrophobic feel a typical compact office or lab would have. There are a few plants within the lab which contribute to a nice open work environment.
View #2: My computer and research work
The next view from my lab chair is my computer. This is where I get my research project work done, and it’s seriously hard work. Robotics involves a lot more math and programming that I anticipated, but it gets fun once you learn how to do the fundamentals. Although it can be difficult to spend hours here learning how to code some simulations or getting down the concept of reverse kinematics, the cool healthy atmosphere of the lab helps me push forward regardless of how difficult the obstacle.
What I admire greatest is the last view I have from my desk, which is the ocean that borders our school here at UCSB. I always take a moment from time to time to look away from my work and take in the view from the fourth floor of Harold Frank Hall. The ocean is always a beautiful blue, and the palm trees flowing with leaves of green. The window is big enough to let in the light of the vast blue sky and fills the lab with photons from the Sun. Looking out, it helps me solve some difficulties I am having with my work and clears my mind so that I can finish the job in a smooth manner. I am extremely fortunate to be here at UCSB studying in this lab because the environment I work in bolsters the efficiency and fun of the research I am doing.
View #3: The ocean and sky from my desk
How do you simulate a laser? That was my first question, followed by many more, for my mentor starting at the beginning on the summer. Transitioning from a week of final exams to working in a new lab the next week is just about as hectic as it sounds, but also exciting.
As for simulating a laser, from my experience so far, it is done by reading multiple books on the subject and hoping that my lack of programming experience doesn’t hinder me too much. My project is based on narrowing the linewidth of an silicon-based laser, which is essentially making its frequency more precise. Since lasing is a process that takes place with a seemingly uncountable number of atoms, the frequency of the photon released from each atom is very slightly off from that from a different atom. Because of this, when we talk about the frequency of a laser, we are talking about the peak in a distribution of frequencies, not the frequency of every photon emitted by a laser. A smaller linewidth means that the distribution gets narrower, and more photons have a frequency closer to that of the peak.
Now that seems pretty interesting, but where are the applications? Well, there are plenty actually. By making a laser more precise, you can distinguish two lasers with closer frequencies. Since there will be less overlap which will contribute to detection errors and noise, devices will be able to pack more frequencies into the medium they use to transfer information. This is very important for communication, and I will give a quick example of why using a frequency we don’t work with in our research but is still representative of the importance of a narrow linewidth. KCSB FM, the radio station at UCSB, is broadcasted at 91.9 MHz. Like any other radio station, its frequency goes to only one decimal place. However, with a narrower linewidth on broadcasting and receiving instruments, channels will be able to further than that, having two or three decimal places with minimal overlap. This will open up many more channels, allowing more information to be accessible to anyone at a given time. A similar process can be used in optical fibers, except within a different range of frequencies.
Learning how to code has been a challenge for me so far, but has been a majority of what I have been doing. In fact, I have not set foot inside of a laboratory this summer, but have spent many hours at a desk. Reading and problem-solving is something that isn’t foreign to me after a few years of studying physics at UCSB, however it is new to me for research. I was expecting hands-on projects, with the lab coat and all, but what I have been doing is rewarding in a way I have never considered. And in the coming weeks, I think the time I spent reading and learning how to code will help me contribute to the solution of the growing problem of data transfer. Even though I don’t get to work with any fancy machines I had to get trained specifically for, working outside the lab has let me see the bigger picture and contribute in ways I never thought I could.