Being an engineer was not part of the plan.
Going to engineering school was the path of least resistance at 19. I didn’t have any grand ambitions straight out of high school.
All that being said, I eventually ended up being an engineer, without really understanding what it meant to be one. If I had to summarize my job as an engineer, it’d be this: to resolve technical issues on the production line, to do things better and faster, and to deliver our products on time. Wow, a bunch of corporate jargon etched in my mind. But yes, you get the point.
So what does engineering mean to me? At its heart, it has always been about problem-solving.
Most problems begin with expansion: gathering information, identifying variables, and imagining possibilities. Eventually, that expansion has to give way to convergence: narrowing the scope, weighing trade-offs, and deciding what to do. Rinse and repeat.
Yet, the problems I enjoyed the most were the tangible ones. I recall the days crouched over a tool, multimeter in one hand and schematic in the other. These were the moments when my eyes lit up. Somewhere along the way, I used less and less of my hands to solve problems. Essentially, I became a paper-engineer (as I’d like to call myself): a PowerPoint expert, a cross-functional collaborator, a master mediator. I was increasingly removed from the hands-on part of the work itself.
This ended up becoming an internal point of tension for me, as I sought outlets that would let me think and solve with my hands again. Woodworking and pottery entered my life.
I was intrigued by craft: the way each material allowed, resisted and demanded; the non-linear nature of the process; and the balance between intention and responsiveness. There was also the humility in learning a new skill, but that’s a discussion for another day.
Bit by bit, the joy returned. Hours passed without notice. I had found my missing piece. I just had not figured out where it belonged.
woodworking & pottery snippets
The question was: how could I integrate an engineering way of thinking and a physical way of making? I needed a space where neither thinking nor making was secondary.
Tinker With Things began somewhere between these two versions of myself: the engineer who framed and resolved problems, and the maker who learned to think through materials and work with her hands.
I still do not know exactly what Tinker With Things will make. But I do know how I want to approach its creation: with consideration, curiosity and heart.
May this journal be a record of my musings and reflections. May Tinker With Things evolve into a brand that brings me closer to the way I want to live, learn, and make. And may the things I make reflect exactly that.
