Wind and Wireless
With Great Responsibility
The Birth of an Inventor
My journey began not in a lab or workshop, but on the floor of my childhood bedroom with scrap printer paper and boundless imagination. I'd spend hours sketching downhill racers, wheeled vehicles of all types, and fantastical machines that existed only in my mind.
Then came the day I attempted my first aircraft - fashioned from discarded PVC pipes and trash bags. Like countless kids before me, I'd fashioned cardboard wings, but this was different. When I launched it from our second-story window, it didn't crash immediately. Instead, it caught an updraft and made a small "hop" before gracefully descending. Flight! Or at least, falling with style. But in that moment, it felt like true flight.
The Prophetic Words
Years later, I found myself in Engineering Drafting 101 at college. Professor Stallman stood before a room of green freshmen, eyes sparkling with the wisdom of decades in engineering. "You never know," he said with a wry smile, "one day you may need to file your own patent."
I remember chuckling to myself, "Who, ME? No way. I could never navigate that bureaucracy." The idea seemed as distant as the stars. Yet his words planted a seed that would take years to sprout.
Professor Stallman's words about patents seem like distant fantasy to a freshman just learning to draw straight lines.
The rush of design. The thrill of parsing protocols. Learning all manner of mediums. All methods of communication and languages.
Years of prototyping lead to the moment of truth - facing the USPTO portal armed with nothing but determination.
The Table of Tears
When I finally decided to patent my MistPhone - that beautiful marriage of nostalgic flip phone design with modern e-paper and LoRa technology - I had no idea what awaited me. The patent process became my personal Everest.
I faced endless struggles: technical drawings that never seemed quite right, forms that multiplied like rabbits, and the USPTO's digital portal that seemed designed to test human endurance. There were moments I sat at my desk, head in hands, wondering if this mountain was too steep to climb. The table of tears witnessed many battles.
The Moment of Triumph
After days of wrestling with forms, technical descriptions, and digital portals that seemed to actively resist my efforts, I finally clicked "Submit." My heart pounded as I awaited the system's response.
Then it appeared:
The flood of emotions was overwhelming. Ecstasy! Triumph! Validation! All the struggles, the late nights, the moments of doubt - they all converged into this singular moment of victory.
YES! YES! YES!
A Message to Future Inventors
To anyone sitting where I once sat - in that drafting classroom, in your garage workshop, or at your kitchen table with nothing but an idea and doubt - hear me now:
This is the message from my heart to yours. The path is difficult, the bureaucracy daunting, but the feeling when you see your patent number for the first time makes every tear, every frustration, every moment of doubt absolutely worth it.