End-of-semester reflections

Now that the semester is over I've had some time to rest and relax the past fortnight, and reflect on my experience this semester. And I think…I might enjoy teaching.

It's a question everyone's been asking me, but not a straightforward question for me to answer. The superposition of emotions that makes up how I feel about it refuses to yield to observation and collapse to a single, simple, state. Mostly, I don't feel anything – I don't dislike it, but I also don't feel any particular deep yearning towards it either. (Though in fairness this is also how I feel about programming, which I like well enough as a profession.)

The clearest indication came near the end of April, when I saw and applied for a software developer position in astronomy on this island. It was similar to positions I've held and enjoyed before, and had I applied last year I've have been quite excited for it – yet as I was applying, I felt an unexpected pang of…regret, I suppose, that I wouldn't be around to watch the students I've begun to get to know this year develop over the course of their undergraduate journey.

We'll see if it goes anywhere, of course. I'm on the schedule to teach several classes next semester so I have no idea how or if that would work if I got hired. I find myself thinking a dual arrangement might be nice, where I teach a few classes on the side going forward. But this is all speculation for now.

Another thing I've had time to reflect on was attending the graduation ceremony for UH Hilo the day before my birthday. I left in the middle of the semester when I finished up my Ph.D. at Swinburne, so my last time being part of a ceremony was my undergraduate commencement in 2012. This was also my first time attending as faculty, and I found it a profoundly different experience.

In some strange way, watching the doctoral students being awarded their hoods and degrees gave me a sense of closure. Back in 2021 I literally went from submitting my thesis Sunday afternoon to starting my job at Gemini the next morning, so I had zero time off in-between. That wasn't really the end of it, though, since I then spent most of the next six months turning my thesis into publishable papers, working on evenings and weekdays (with a small break in December for my thesis defense a few days before Christmas). I was pretty burnt out for a long time, and while that's probably representative of most grad students at some level I never really had much in the way of closure; my papers finally got published, and I just…didn't need to be spending most of the time I wasn't working thinking about the process anymore.

So I found it surprisingly emotional to be sitting among the other faculty at the graduation ceremony two weeks ago, watching my fellow newly-minted doctors receiving the rewards for their years of toil. Sitting with the faculty dressed in our formal regalia (wearing a borrowed finery in my case), I felt a connection to the scholars around the globe who for hundreds of years have sat in ceremonies like these, welcoming new learners to their ranks in fellowship. It was a really nice feeling being recognized by the chancellor, both for being a UHH alumnus and as part of the faculty. I try to stay humble and not let my accomplishments go to my head, but it's gratifying to have the many years of hard work I put in bettering myself be recognized.

So what's next for me? As mentioned I'm on the schedule to teach again in the fall, but I don't have anything officially going on over the summer. I have no lack of ideas for projects and things to try, however, so I hope to have ideas for posts before too long. After a little break I've started up on some woodworking projects, including constructing some jigs to make future projects easier. (One of the fun things I'm discovering about woodworking is the ability to simply make your own tools to accomplish things.) We'll see what I get up to, though! A hui hou!

Living my prime years

Another year, another birthday! And what a year it's been. Last year around my birthday I was working with NEON on the slopes of Mauna Loa (about which I gave a talk this week at the Hilo photography club meeting). This year I've just wrapped up finals weeks at UH Hilo after my first semester teaching, and attended the graduation ceremony yesterday. Attending graduation as faculty was an interesting experience and I have some thoughts about it, but they're still crystallizing so they'll come in a future post.

For today, I was thinking earlier that I'm celebrating my 37th birthday, and how that's back to being a prime number after 36. And then I thought about phrases like “being in one's prime,” or “being in the prime of life,” and started wondering: just how many years have I spent at a prime age?

Now, what does that very hastily-conceived notion mean? It's essentially just how many of your preceding years of life corresponded to prime numbers. We have to a little careful about birthdays, though; in essence, birthdays count years of age since the day of your birth, so your first birthday comes at the end of your first year of life. You are then “1 year old” during your second year of life until your second birthday. If we count the years which correspond to a prime number as “prime years”, we can compute, at each birthday, how many of your preceding years were “prime years” and what fraction that makes with your total number of years lived, as in this formula:

\[\text{prime years fraction}_{\text{at age }n}=\left.\frac{\text{prime years}}{\text{total years}}\right]_{\text{at age }n}\]

Confused yet? Let's start from your first birthday, which celebrates your first year outside the womb. One is not a prime number, so your total number of prime years lived to this point (out of a total of one) is zero; your prime years fraction is thus \(0/1=0\). At your second birthday, you have lived a total of two years; the first one is not prime, but your second year corresponds to two, which is prime, so you have one prime year out of two, or \(1/2=0.5\). At your third birthday, you have lived one non-prime year and two prime years (since two and three are prime), for a fraction of \(2/3=0.66\dots\)

And it's not hard to see that this is as good as it gets – at your fourth birthday you'll have lived two prime and two non-prime years so the fraction returns to 0.5, and since prime numbers only ever get farther apart your fraction of prime years begins a slow slide downwards. One interrupted by upwards jumps at each prime birthday, to be sure, but the overall trend is obvious. I found this sufficiently interesting to write up a quick Python program and plot what it would look like for ages 1–100, and here it is:

You can see the trend I've described: it starts at zero at your first birthday, shoots upwards the next two years, then begins a jagged descent. Since 37 is prime I've just jumped up to a prime fraction of 0.324, or, another way of putting it, just under one-third of my lived years have been prime (numbers).

The plot kind of reminds me of the nuclear binding energy curve in atomic physics, but I was also intrigued with where it seemed to be going. I thought it might be converging towards 0.2, but running it to 1000 dispelled that notion:

At this point I suspected it was converging towards zero at infinity, but my naïve implementation of prime-checking in my code was starting to take noticeably longer to run at higher upper limits. For a limit of ten thousand it still took under two seconds to run, but at a hundred thousand it took over four minutes:

I'm sure I could implement a more sophisticated method of prime-checking and push it to higher numbers*, but ultimately, checking whether a number is prime or not is a difficult problem (and one on which much of modern computer security depends). The overall trend is clear, mathematically, so for an idle musing like this I'm satisfied with what I got.

Anyway, I hope you found that at least a little interesting. We'll see where life takes me this year. Currently my summer is wide open (I've got a lot of ideas for things to do) and I'm on the schedule to teach again in the fall, but who knows where things might end up going. A hui hou!

*Edit: I certainly could, as I was checking all the way up to \(n/2\) instead of merely \(\sqrt{n}\).

On the semantics of uniqueness

I've mused occasionally for a while about the semantics of the concept of “uniqueness”. I've seen it asserted that uniqueness is essentially a boolean quality: something is either unique or it isn't. There's no comparative or superlative form of unique: uniquer, uniquest (although having written that, those sound pretty cool!). And the first two definitions from Merriam-Webster seem to agree with this: “being the only one : sole; being without a like or equal : unlike anything or anyone else : unequaled”.

But when I find myself pondering the concept, it feels like there should be degrees of uniqueness. For one thing, if we're talking about real objects, then every thing larger than a single molecule is technically unique at some scale. But that renders the concept rather useless as a word. If have a set of five “identical” rubber ball, four white balls and one blue one (⚪⚪⚪⚪🔵), it makes sense to describe the blue one as unique compared to the set of all of them, even if they technically are not all perfectly identical (and thus are all technically “unique”). So there's some tolerance built-in, within which we consider things to be identical for the sake convenience. That's fine – we live in the real world, not an ideal one.

Now consider a set of five balls, all of different colors. ⚪🔵🟢🟠🟣 It makes sense to describe each one (within the set) as being unique: they're all different from each other member of the set in terms of color, which is a concept we generally attach importance to. (Though I just realized I haven't considered color-blind people in this example; I should remember that for the future.)

But what if we add an elephant to that set? ⚪🔵🟢🟠🟣🐘

Every item in the set is still technically unique – but it certainly feels as if the elephant is somehow more unique than the other items. It's more different from all of them than any of them are from each other. Remove any one item from the set and the diversity (in pretty much any metric) will be at a global minimum when that item is the elephant. Calling any of the balls unique – while technically true – seems somewhat understated in the face of the literal elephant in the room set.

I was prepared to argue this point more, until as I was looking unique up in the online Merriam-Webster dictionary I noticed a third definition, and a usage guide. The third definition reads “very special or notable : unusual”, and the usage guide notes that:

Unique is often cited as a word that should never be modified by terms like somewhat or very. The thinking is that unique properly only describes what is unequaled or otherwise distinct from all others. Just as something cannot be more "only" than another, it cannot be more unique than another. This logic fails, however, when we consider that unique can also mean "unusual" or "rare," as in "a unique opportunity" or "a unique feature." In these cases, phrases like "very unique" are standard.

 “Very”, I would argue, is just an intensifier adverb like “more” is, so I think it's ultimately fine to consider something more or less unique; it's expressing something about the ratio of how similar it is to other things in whatever set we're including it in vs. how similar those other set members are to each other. (You could probably come up with a mathematical definition for this in terms of set theory, but I'm not sure I know enough about it to do so.) But that's just my take on it, and it is, ultimately, semantics. Feel free to chime in in the comments! A hui hou!

Creating props for the game table: crafting an alien laser weapon from scratch

We're fast approaching the end of the spring semester, and I swear I've been doing things besides teaching and woodworking this year…but I have another project to show off. This one's a bit different, since it came about from an RPG campaign I'm playing in. A friend of mine has been running a years-long series of campaigns in the same homebrew setting using a number of different game systems where the events of one campaign become the background and history for the next, as the world changes and adjusts based on the players' actions. Perhaps I'll talk about it more at some point, but in the current campaign (using the Draw Steel system) we found ourselves fighting off a murderous hit squad of a mysterious alien race from the heavens, who fought with weapons of yellow light.

One of those weapons which my character recovered after we survived the attack was described as a laser chakram which could be thrown like a boomerang and also used to fight hand-to-hand (perfect for my sneaky dagger-wielding Shadow). As I was driving home after the session, I suddenly found an idea of what it might look like popping into my head…and then found I couldn't get it out of my head. It took me most of a weekend working obsessively to fashion it out of wood and paint, but I think the result is well worth it.

A chakram would normally be a single circular piece of metal, but in my head I saw an idea of a two-part weapon which could be split into semicircles for hand-to-hand fighting, then combined into one for throwing. I haven't done this yet, but I'd like to eventually countersink some magnets in the two bases so that they can snap together and simulate my vision for it. I realize it's hard to tell the scale in these pictures, but I can comfortably fit a hand into each half to hold on to it.

This is actually the first woodworking project I did without a pattern to follow (before the ones I mentioned in an earlier post), and it's remarkable how straight the path from my head to finished product was. I had to buy a router to trim away wood to make the laser “blades” stick out from the thicker board, and it turned out to work pretty much exactly like I'd expected it to (I'd been planning on getting one anyway, this was just a good reason to speed it up). Making the round cuts required a jigsaw, one of my favorite power tools but also one I hadn't had much occasion to use before. I realized after I'd made the cuts that I had a better jigsaw blade for fine cutting than the default one which came with the saw, so they could be slightly better, but as long as you don't look too closely it's fine.

Here's a shot of them on the campaign map. And yes, the laser portions do glow in the dark – this is me we're talking about, after all (you can just see a hint of it in this photo). It took several attempts over a few days, but I eventually figured out a way to mix my yellow glow-in-the-dark pigment with a regular yellow pigment in such a way as to look good in both light and darkness. I also took the chance to use some of the metallic paints sitting around in my paint collection, since I don't usually have much use for them in my paintings. The semi-random circuitry-inspired detailing was a late addition as they were coming together to break up the visual monotony of the design, and I'm really happy with how it turned out.

This was a very interesting project for me with how I didn't really plan it, it just sort of…happened. I did feel a bit like one of Dwarf Fortress's dwarfs forging an artifact in the grip of a Strange Mood, hauling materials to a workshop and laboring on a great project until it's finished (fitting, in a way, for my character who is also a dwarf). I haven't been similarly inspired again yet, but it did sort of open my eyes to what I could accomplish with what I have. Will there be more like this in the future? We'll find out, I guess! A hui hou!

Edit (4/29/26): It took some work, but I managed to get some photos of the blades glowing in low light:

It's very hard to get the same effect in a photo compared to seeing it, but hopefully this gives a feel for what it's like.

End table improvements

I have been doing things besides woodworking this year, but I did get into it rather heavily and still have several projects to show off. One I finished mid-March is another end table using the same pattern as the first one I made. I actually started this one back in December not long after finishing the first one, but got interrupted by my family arriving and wasn't able to finish it until March (which led to some interesting differences, as I improved both my skills and equipment in the meantime). 

Whereas for the first one I used all pine, for this one I used a mixture of pine (for the legs and stretchers), red oak (for large flat surfaces including the top, drawer, and bottom shelf), and fir (which…you can't actually see in these photos, but it's essentially trim on the sides). I was a little worried at first that the colors would clash and I might need to do some staining, but the oak and pine actually came out looking fairly well-matched in the end. (The fir's a little off, but, well, live and learn…)

Here you can see the first table (on the left) next to the second one. There's a definite improvement in my opinion. The first one is functional, and the proportions generally work, but it's not the prettiest thing I've ever made. I wasn't paying much attention to the wood I used in it, and while I personally like the look of pine the color and patterns are kind of a mess, and it's got screws visible all over (though they might be hard to see in the photo).

In the meantime between starting and finishing the second table, I made a few upgrades to my workshop. For one thing, I got a pocket hole jig, which allowed me to hide the screws holding it together away from sight (by screwing in at an angle rather than straight into a surface). I had to do a little trial-and-error to get that working, but I'm quite happy with how it came out. I also got both a miter saw and a table saw in the interim, which let me make much better cuts than with the circular saw I was using (though there are still a few wonky cuts from the early stages of construction which I couldn't fix without completely tearing it apart and starting over).

Overall it's a big improvement, and while I think I could do even better now it's satisfying to see my progress already. I still have a lot to learn, but it's nice to see that I'm getting better. I don't have any plans to make more of these at the moment (though being able to start out with a table saw would be a huge help), but the skills I've been honing transfer, and I've got plenty more ideas for things to make. A hui hou!

Farewell gifts (and geese)

In addition to the larger furniture pieces I showed off in my previous post, I've been making a number of smaller woodworking projects too. Two friends of mine are both moving away from Hawaii in the near future, so I put my newfound skills to the test to make them some farewell gifts.

For my friend Mark, I wanted to try an end-grain cutting board after watching a video on how to make them. Basically, you glue a bunch of strips of wood together (all cut along the grain, or “rip cut”), then cut them in strips across the grain (“cross cut”) and flip them up 90° so that the end face of the board is made up of the end grain faces of each piece (the end grain is where you can see the rings). I haven't been able to test it myself yet (for reasons of time), but from what I've heard this results in a more durable cutting board than simply leaving those strip glued together to make an edge grain cutting board, though it's also more work (and has more wood lost to kerf from making more cuts). Experienced woodworkers can make all kinds of fascinating patterns by the selection, arrangement, and cutting angles of various kinds of wood, but the basic premise is relatively simple.

After wetting it down to “raise the [wood] grain” to get a smoother sanded finish.

The project still took me over a week, since I discovered the miter gauge on my table saw isn't really accurate enough for repeated cross cuts like I needed to make. I ended up with a bunch of wood strips which, when glued together, weren't all quite the same thickness. There are some tools which could potentially solve this easily, but I don't have them, so I had to spend hours trying to sand down and smooth out the irregularities. (Going forward I intend to preemptively solve this by making a cross cut sled, a simple jig made using plywood and some screws which should make getting repeatable cross cuts much easier.)

And here it is after applying a protective mineral oil and wax finish.

Anyway, after a lot of sanding and small cosmetic fixes I got it to a state where I'm mostly happy with it. It should serve as a cutting board, at least, even if it's not perfect. I wanted to make something using local woods as a reminder of Hawaiʻi, so I used koa and ʻōhiʻa (plus some African padauk for a pop of orange contrast. The edges and center are koa, with ʻōhiʻa to either side of it down the middle and then padauk just inside the edges.) I haven't decided on whether it'd be better with things like a juice groove or edge handles, but since Mark's still got some time before he leaves I'll probably just ask him.

For my friend Josh, whom I worked with at my job with NEON last year, I decided to make a little coaster from some scraps of Phillipine mahagony I had from another project (which I'll reveal at some point). A few years ago I bought some novelty coasters designed to look like little wooden pallets, and I thought something like that would make a practical gift.

Raw materials after cutting them out, and the inspiration.

The strips of wood I had were slightly wider than in the original coasters, so I went for a solid flat face on the top. The result came out looking pretty good, in my opinion!

And since Josh enjoyed seeing the nēnē while we were working up in the natural area reserve, I pulled out my wood burning kit and doodled a quizzical nēnē from a photo I took while visiting the Hakalau Forest National Wildlife Refuge last year. This project was a lot quicker, and only took me a few hours over the course of a day.

The inspiration…

…and the (slightly off-center) result.

While the occasion of their creation is for less-than-happy reasons, it was a lot of fun to stretch my creative muscles for these projects and make something new. I like making practical furniture, but it's also nice to make smaller practical (and decorative) wood pieces. I've got more things to show off here at some point too, so stay tuned! A hui hou!

Getting started in woodworking

I have a lot of hobbies. Some (including me) might say too many, since there's not nearly enough time in the [day|year|arbitrary amount of time] to enjoy all of them. So ,what have I done in the past few months on top of moving/preparing for a family visit/starting a new teaching position? Picked up another hobby, of course!

Yes, that's right. I haven't mentioned it yet in part because I've been so busy, but back in December I started trying my hand at woodworking. It's not entirely new to me – I did some woodworking in 4-H in my teens, and helped out with carpentry jobs around the house growing up – but it's certainly been a long time, and I had to relearn some of the fundamentals pretty quickly.

I also hadn't said anything about it yet because I wanted a few finished projects to show off. Between the aforementioned things keeping me busy my progress in getting things done has been somewhat uneven, and I wanted more to show than a bunch of in-progress photos. (Although having watched a number of woodworking videos now, I'm thinking it might be fun to make my own showing off the process of building something.)

My very first project, completed around mid-December, was this end table/nightstand piece. Following a plan I found online I built it out of pine with little but a circular saw, a power drill, and an impact driver. It was something of an achievement in ignorance; given what I've learned since then it's remarkable that I only ended up wasting one board while making it and that it came out as good at it did. There's a lot I would do differently now (especially now that I have more specialized tools), but for what it was it came out remarkably good.

Making that piece was sort of a trial-by-fire learning process, as I re-learned concepts like kerf (how much wood is removed when sawing), cutting straight lines, and joining wood pieces together. It was simultaneously confidence-boosting and confidence-draining, as I realized the extent of my ignorance. Thankfully, my brother Joel (who's been woodworking for years) shared an online course with me, The Weekend Woodworker, which introduces key concepts and techniques through a series of directed projects. I've been working through it since then and it's been really helpful as I learn and refine new skills.

The first thing I built from the course was this mobile workbench, which has been essential for everything since. For my first project up above I'd used two old sets of shelves which I found in the downstairs workshop as a working area, but this workbench (and its large surface) makes things so much easier. It's sturdy, and the ability to roll it around to wherever I need it is incredibly helpful. (I had to upgrade the lighting in the workshop as the bulbs down there when I moved in weren't really up to the task of illuminating it, and being able to move my working area around for better light is great.)

Using that workbench (and some new tools), I managed to get this little patio table finished before my family arrived at the end of December. This was an exercise in getting to know the miter saw, which makes cross cuts a whole lot easier than a circular saw! I used Douglas fir for this project, as I quite like the look of it, and chose to leave the table unpainted. Some people find softwoods undesirable to look at, but I think they can be quite beautiful when properly finished (though hardwoods have their own allure, too). Actually, writing this reminds me that I bought a dowel to use to add the look of some fake dowel joinery to the legs as part of an optional enhancement, which I should get back to one of these days (though functionally, it's finished).

The next project from the course was this bench, which is also made of fir and pine, but stained to look like hardwood. This was another lesson in precision and accuracy, since it's made of interleaved slats with spaces between them that all need to join precisely together. I started this project between when my family left and when I started teaching in early January…and it then took nearly a month to finish between how busy I was getting up to speed teaching and how many coats of pre-stain, stain, and finish it took. All of which were annoyingly difficult to apply, due to the large surface area of all those slats and the constrained volume between them. It came out looking pretty good, though! I was skeptical about the stain at first, but it's grown on me.

I have a few more projects I've completed (plus some on the way), but I need to cut this post short in order to head off to an observing run on the UH 2.2-m telescope tonight. I'll definitely have more to share in the future, though. I'm really enjoying the process of woodworking; it's a good fit for my 3D spatial reason capabilities, I love the smell of freshly-cut wood, and I love the idea of making things that are both beautiful and practical. I've felt the siren song of building practical things call to me in the past on the rare occasions I'd visit Home Depot, and being able to finally indulge it is an incredible feeling. A few friends have even expressed interest in commissions, so we'll see where this all goes in the future. A hui hou!

Visiting Papakōlea Green Sand Beach

With everything happening so far this year I haven't had time to talk about my trip to Papakōlea Beach while my family was visiting in January. Papakōlea Beach is one of two green sand beaches in the world (the other being in the Galàpagos Islands), with papa kōlea meaning “plover flats” in Hawaiian. It's located about three miles east of Ka Lae, or South Point, the southernmost-point on Hawaiʻi island, in the state of Hawaii, and in the US.

Windmills near South Point (facing north). They're on top of a huge scarp falling off to the west.

I'd never actually been to South Point before so visiting it was a new experience. I was once again struck by the vast amount and array of microclimates to be found around this island. The southern tip of Mauna Loa is windswept and barren, with only low grass or scraggly trees blowing fitfully in the ever-present breeze. 

Sea cliffs at South Point (facing north up the west coast).

Beach at South Point (facing south, towards Antarctica).

I knew there were sea cliffs at South Point, but didn't realize there were also beaches within the space of half a mile or so. It's interesting to think that, looking southwards, the next land is Antarctica, almost half the globe away! (And if you get swept out to sea, the current will take you straight there…) The eerie solitude of the place definitely instills a respect for the ocean. There are no lifeguards here, so while you can swim, it's definitely “at your own risk” (emphasis on risk). People have absolutely been lost to the sea here (I think there was one just last year).

Papakōlea Beach, within a volcanic tuff cone (facing east along the coast).

It's a few miles from the parking lot to the beach, and takes about an hour and ten minutes to hike. As I went along, at some point I remember looking down at the ground and thinking that the sand was starting to have a definite greenish cast to it. The trail passes very near the point where the photo above was taken, which provides a fantastic vantage point to see the partially eroded volcanic cone which provides the olivine crystals that give the sand its color.

View from the top of the path looking down to the beach.

I didn't get a great view of the path down, but it's not the easiest walk. Some old metal ladders near the top provided a start where the path is steepest, after which we carefully made our way down sloping, eroded tuff cliffs. It was slightly dicey, but it's not a long path and once down on the beach it was fine.

Sand up close! (Hand courtesy of my brother Joel.)

The color is a little hard to bring through in photos (I wonder if the camera is doing some color balancing), and it's not exactly a vivid green, but it's definitely not your normal sand color either.

View of some of the eroded parts of the cone on its eastern side, from down on the beach.

Looking back west from near the highest point of the cone.

Overall it's a very interesting beach to visit. Even if it weren't for the green sand, the topography and the way it exists inside an old volcanic cone is fascinating, and very picturesque.

One thing noticeable in many of these photos is the weather. The day we visited there was a winter storm over much of the island, and the clouds were fairly thick in the sky with a constant, stiff wind blowing. (Our timing couldn't have been better, though, since literally as we reached the car on our way back it started to rain.) This was probably about the best weather we could have asked for, in terms of hiking, as the exposed trail would be brutal under a clear sky or without a cooling breeze. If you go, definitely make sure you have good sun protection and plenty of water (and maybe try to go early in the morning).

I'm glad I finally made it out to the beach (it only took twelve years…), and hopefully I can get back there sometime with my drone in better weather when the wind isn't blowing constantly and get some aerial photos. We'll see! A hui hou!

A new chapter in life – undergraduate instructor!

In all the hustle and bustle the past few months between moving and my job at NEON ending, I realize that I never actually mentioned what was coming next for me. The answer is: teaching several physics and astronomy courses at the University of Hawaii at Hilo, my alma mater.

I think I forgot to mention it in part because it was something of a long time coming. I originally applied to the lecturer pool near the tail end of 2024, after my job at Gemini ended. There weren't any classes available for the spring semester in 2025, but they liked my application and asked me to apply again for the fall. I started working at NEON in April and didn't think too much about it, though I did apply. There was some discussion in the summer of me teaching a single class for the fall semester which ended up not happening (probably for the best, given how exhausted I generally was from work). However, for this semester I ended up going into the new year with an agreement to teach two classes, which I forgot to mention in the whirlwind of preparing for my family visiting that was December. Then, in the few days between my family departing and classes starting on the 12th I was asked if I'd like to teach another class. I said yes, and that's how I ended up teaching three courses this semester – with zero prior experience teaching in a formal setting.

It's been a bit hectic. The first week of classes I was frantically trying to figure out what resources we had available (I got mixed up and thought I had one week more to prepare than I did), and the second week I came down with something (probably COVID, based on the symptoms) which really hampered my efforts to catch up and prepare and teach. Three weeks in, however, I'm more-or-less recovered and finally feeling like I'm starting to get a handle on things.

I'm still adjusting to this new role; it's strange being addressed as “Professor” and being in a position I looked up to as a student. I've never been in a management position before, so it's weird having the power to assign homework. There's a bit of a learning curve as I get back up to speed on hazily-remembered physics and math that I haven't used in over a decade, and there are no lack of demands on my time throughout the week. I do like being in a position to help people learn; it's something I've always enjoyed informally, so hopefully it'll get easier with a bit of time and experience. We'll see, I suppose! Truly, never a dull moment in my life*. A hui hou!

*I wouldn't mind some dull moments in my life.

Starting the year with an exhibition

My family have come to visit and gone again, and as expected it was a wonderful, hectic, whirlwind of a time. I'll have a report of my trip (for the first time!) to Green Sands Beach coming Soon™, but for the past few days I've mostly been decompressing and getting ready for teaching a few astronomy and physics courses at UH Hilo this semester, so this'll be a short post. Classes start this week, instead of next week like I somehow got mixed up and thought, so I'll be jumping in at the deep end with less preparation than expected! But hopefully it'll work out – it's mostly labs, so there isn't really anything to do the first week, and everyone I've spoken to seems pretty relaxed about it. (In contrast to how stressed I am thinking about it.)

Leaving that aside, for this post I wanted to quickly mention that I've got two of my drone photos in the 2026 Hawaiʻi Island Art Alliance Invitational exhibition at the Wailoa Center in downtown Hilo, as part of a collaboration between the Hilo Photo Shooters Club and Pau Hana Writers called Hawaiʻi Island: Images by Light and Pen. The exhibition runs from January 16–February 12, with an opening reception from 5–7 PM on the 16th which I plan to attend. I think I've shared both photos on this blog previously so it won't be anything new to long-time readers, but I'll try to get some pictures of them in situ, as it were. It's funny to think that I'll now be a thrice-exhibited artist, and for sculpture, paintings, and now photography! A hui hou!