I am a Graduate Student in Physics who is also interested in the history of science and Philosophy. In other words, I am a scientist experiencing (or recovering from?) the philosophical side-effects of doing science. 

I'll describe the job of a physicist as involving the study of things at the very border of what exists and dreams without mixing the two. 

The dreams are the maths, the concepts and narratives.

I hold a master’s degree in physics from the State University of New York at Albany, where I am currently pursuing a PhD in physics under the supervision of Professor Rongwei Yang in the Department of Mathematics. My research focuses on quantum measurements, quantum tensor–product structures (how subsystems are organised within quantum systems), and the epistemic implications of the Copenhagen interpretations.

Outside my teaching and research, I enjoy evening hangouts with a friend or two.
I also enjoy writing non-fiction—a medium through which I explore, in an accessible and engaging way, my curiosities about social, psychological, cultural and emotional life. 

When I feel unproductive at my desk, I like to step outside and do a bit of manual work in the garden — mowing the lawn, trimming shrubs, watering plants, or repotting. (I especially enjoy the smell of soil.)
I am a physicist by training, but I am secretly in love with Chemistry and Biology also. I'm a lost butterfly going from one interesting flower to another. I'm still searching. I still haven't found what I'm looking for (yes, I'm a U2 fan). But hey. Not all those who wander are lost (I like Tokien, also).

.....I'm glad you're still here. In that case, allow me to yap about my Philosophical orientation to science. 
Around the time of Newton, or before, we pictured ourselves as tiny insects stuck in vast, seemingly endless resin, with any knowledge we acquire about why we are there or what lies beyond us perceived as modest gifts of our abilities. However, after Laplace, there was a significant shift (and, arguably, the birth of an element of arrogance). Laplace's ideas, particularly his views on determinism and his sense of an “outsider view of the mechanical universe”, encouraged a view of the universe resembling a clockmaker observing a clock. This shift led us to adopt a more adamant stance, positioning ourselves as outsiders objectively analyzing the universe. That's misleading. I do not suggest a return to the supernatural, but rather a sense of humility, curiosity, and even gratitude for our methods and rigor, while remaining suspended, like small insects, in an "endless resin"—the observable universe.

In modern terms, Laplace’s program metamorphosed into something like “The Universe as a Conway's Game of Life”—put some elementary stuff and elementary rules, and everything emerges. But I think that's a category error. Unlike in Conway's game, there is no sensible way to get out of the universe and restart it with a different initial condition. It's a reductionist dream, but likely a category error.  We can only hope to describe this existence partially, from within. But we can do a great deal—and often get surprises—even with that modest hope. 

I think the universe is less like Conway's game and more like a LEGO set, where novelty that was not foreseen in the initial condition, even in principle, can arise. Don't ask me what the LEGO blocks are—I don't know. Also, it's only a loose analogy. I doubt if we will ever be able to point out or find a miniature model of the universe and assert "the entire universe is just like that". But we try ceasessly because we are (drum roll please): Homo sapiens.

Instead of Laplace, I think I'd say I'm standing (or climbing) atop the shoulders of Charles Darwin, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Claude Shannon, Stuart Kauffman, Niels Bohr, Albert Einstein, Ted Chiang (literary, I know) and with some moutain ropes and harnesses, I'm also climbing the hard to climb shouders of Newton to see what lies beyond.

I like mountains at dawn, deserts in the afternoon, forests on rainy days and at dusk, beaches on Sunday evenings, the middle of the ocean in the middle of the night with clear skies, and caves for reflections and for hearing the echoes of the past.