Week 4: The Table

Ok that's pretty cool.

But do you want to know something that isn't cool. Tables.

After designing, redesigning, buying, redesigning, re-buying, redesigning, etc., the 80/20 parts for my table finally arrived. And for a heap of metal frames, nuts, and bolts, it was quite an enriching experience.

Like any other task so far in my internship, constructing the table was deceptively simple. Just had to attach the T-slotted frames to a series of rectangular nuts hanging from brackets and gussets. But the nuts didn't listen to me. I tried to arrange them all into a nice line, and nuts being nuts, they went nuts. What began as a simple building task ended as an epic (and profanity-filled) wrestling match as I attempted to re-align all the nuts while shoving them into the slots.

The result: a rather unimposing aluminum structure which did exactly what you'd expect a table to do. It held up the parts of the experiment, as planned. Wait, not quite as planned.

You see, the experiment changed last minute (without my knowledge) after I had built the table. The moving parts got moved from their originally planned positions. Now unable to hold the experiment for which it was originally designed, my table now had two options. The first (not cost-effective) was to be completely dismantled and thrown into the "spare parts" cabinet. The second (more reasonable) was to be frankensteined into a monstrosity of a table as we attempted to repurpose it.

At the end of it all, it wasn't even my table anymore. My table was gone.

Exhibit C: if God were a Flying Spaghetti Monster, Satan would be a solenoid

Week 3: S is for Satan. Or solenoid. Wait they're the same

I think this is pretty self-explanatory...

Exploding robot. Woo. Moving on.

You are probably expecting this to connect to the rest of the post in some profound way. And sure it does. Not. Or maybe. Just wait for the rest of what I'm about to say.

Though the nature of my project is "strictly confidential," I am allowed to disclose that it involves magnets. Special types of magnets, called electromagnets (Exhibit C). Now the materials for making one of these highly specialized (and dangerous) devices include an overwhelmingly large expanse of insulated wire (oh, maybe several hundred feet), a cylindrical object, and nerves of freaking steel.

And believe me, this device is highly dangerous. It is known to the state of California (just like any other consumer item) to be an immense choking hazard due to the wire and to evoke suicidal tendencies in persons who attempt to construct them. 

How to construct such a diabolical device? Simple. Wrap the wire around the cylinder into the shape of a solenoid. A mind-numbing number of times. To gain perspective, unroll a megaroll of 1-ply toilet paper, or an entire spool of thread, and then attempt to re-wrap.

Your hands begin to shake. Your eyes begin to shut. Your head begins to explode.

In the world of laboratory work, solenoid-wrapping is classified as "work that needs to be done, but nobody wants to do." Luckily, a race of laboratory workers called "interns" exists. Oh wait, that's me.

So here I am, permanently traumatized by my solenoid-wrapping experience.