My name is Jingyu Li. I was born in Beijing and moved to the United States in my twenties to pursue graduate studies. My early career was defined by precision and consequence; I developed software for life-saving, safety-critical medical devices—MRI and CT scanners, vital sign monitors, and the AEDs that pull patients back from the brink of death.
Eventually, the "entrepreneurial bug" bit, pulling me toward a more personal outlet for my creative energy. I set out to invent something meaningful, such as a smartphone-compatible air quality monitor. But when that venture failed to take flight, I decided to test my technical mettle elsewhere. I landed at Amazon. Despite its reputation for a grueling, bureaucratic culture, I was driven by a persistent curiosity. Having been one of their earliest customers to buy books online, I had to see for myself what happened on the other side of the "Buy" button from A to Z.
After a taste of the corporate world, I chose to step away. My husband and I had reached a rare point of freedom: our children’s college tuitions were settled, our mortgage was nearly a memory, and a paycheck was no longer a necessity. Life was comfortable and content.
But that year, when I just turned 60, the 'Spaceship' called. Following a series of rigorous interviews, Apple invited me to fill a long-vacant senior engineering position. I was captivated by the company’s history of creative spirit. I had just finished Tony Fadell’s Build and felt a genuine spark of excitement to be part of that legacy.
Walking onto the 'Spaceship' campus every morning felt like entering a fairytale: the glimmering glass walls, the manicured fruit trees, the service staff politely holding doors as you entered, and the meals prepared by chefs used work at the city's most iconic restaurants. On the surface, it was a world of absolute order, luxury, and outward beauty. But the moment I stepped into the actual office, my Cinderella carriage turned back into a pumpkin. The reality was a blur of high-pressure meetings, relentless deadlines, and the crushing weight of corporate secrecy. There was no channel for true creativity; instead, there was only a relentless grab for power and blind adherence to the absurd. The environment was harsh and volatile: yelling, backstabbing, and door slamming… I stepped away while my spirit was still intact.
Today, every day feels like a gift from the (non-religious) God. Like a child finally let loose in a candy store, I am gorging on the lifelong curiosities I never had the chance to touch—devouring the world of plants and biology, resuming my solo travels, and experimenting with the tactile joys of crochet and cooking. These
pages are my personal playground, where I share the nature journaling and creative experiments of a spirit finally set free. I hope these discoveries bring a smile to your day!
I can be reached at jingyul@yahoo.com.