I am a meerkat
As a scientist, I like to imagine myself as a meerkat. Not in the “I’ll eviscerate my grandkids someday” sense, but in the “I both dig deep holes and survey the land at the same time” sense.
Barnacle eggs and mangroves
As Dr. Jesus Pineda leapt off the side of the boat, knife in hand, I had the analogous scientific feeling of “Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.” I was out of my depth — literally — since the tide had come in and the water was several meters deep. But let me back up and tell you how I, a graduate student who prefers pixels to petri dishes and MATLAB to measuring, ended up on a boat with a renowned scientist jumping overboard.
One fish, two fish, fake fish Computer models of marine communications tease out ecosystem management trade-offs
I like to joke that I study imaginary fish. People often remember that or, even better, ask what it means. Then, I get to tell them that I study theoretical ecology; I use mathematical tools to investigate how organisms interact with each other and with their environment. I am studying in the MIT Joint Program with the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, so my organisms of interest tend to be marine, but the only places they swim are in my computer, in equations, and, always, in my heart.
One fish, two fish, fake fish, computerish
I like to joke that I study imaginary fish. People often remember that or, even better, ask what it means. Then, I get to tell them that I study theoretical ecology; I use mathematical tools to investigate how organisms interact with each other and with their environment. I am studying in the MIT Joint Program with the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, so my organisms of interest tend to be marine, but the only places they swim are in my computer, in equations, and, always, in my heart.