Something to Prove

Limit (me) X->22

This week has been like an amusement park, and each day like a roller coaster. Monday had a mind-whipping Biochemistry exam, Tuesday the wobbling introduction to Dr. Sobrado's lab, and Thursday the manic cramming for drug chemistry. Still, the worst part was waiting in line for each exam. Seeing people studying one last note card in the hallway before the exam made me see how people could miss the point of studying in the rush to succeed. It was enough to make me start to feel pensive. What is worth studying?

So, since Wednesday I have been throwing out questions to my friends and mentors: "what is worth doing?", "What has been most rewarding for you?", and "What makes you excited in the mornings?" The most extensive answers I got were from Dr. Sobrado, a primary investigator (pi) in the biochemistry department at Virginia Tech. This summer I will be working in his lab, and I hope to get to know him better.

Dr. Sobrado responded to my query, "Has working as a PI been worth it?", in a short rap session we had together. "Working as a PI really depends on your personality," explained Dr. Sobrado, "and there are many people who love the science and ideas, but that's only part of the job. That's the title on paper, but in reality the work is very different." To be successful, Dr. Sobrado must allocate ten hours a week to our lab class--close to twenty when including grading and administration--and also manage hiring, publishing, ideating projects, and obtaining funding for the lab he runs in Fralin. "It's almost 80 hours a week in total," Sobrado said. And with such effort, one would think that he has earned the security of a comfortable lifestyle, but in truth his pay is around $80,000 (before our government has its take). "If I were mowing lawns for that many hours a week, I would get payed more," said Dr. Sobrado.

With that strong of a case against throwing myself at the wall of professorship--the future plan of four years of graduate school, two years of post-doctoral work, and half-decade of fighting for tenure--I thought I had settled on pharmacy as a strong alternative, until a bright man, Dr. Whitehouse made me think differently.

"Our approach to medicine has been engineered backwards," said Dr. Whitehouse on Ginger Campbell's neuroscience podcast, "we have been thinking in terms of nobel-prize-winning scientists and profit-based funding from drug companies. The science of these things has been over-hyped by medicine and research politics." Dr. Whitehouse explained that a solution should include the context of society. We need to shift our thinking so that people with the label of Alzheimer's disease can be included, not left to die. That's why Dr. Whitehouse created his inter-generational school. Together with his wife, Dr. Whitehouse runs a school for 9-12th gradeers and the elderly or people diagnosed with dementia. "These people need a sense of purpose, not a pill without any effect more statistically significant than a placebo."

So, not wanting to peddle the goods of an increasingly overbearing pharmaceutical companies, I'm left with more questions. Sounds like a good thing to sleep on.

Validation

This morning I saw a sign on the bulletin board I made this week: "You suck at bulletin boards. At least try." Aside from this contradicting itself--implying that if I would at least try, that I would not suck at bulletin boards--and needing a bit of grammatical help, I was miffed. I started to contemplate making a new bulletin board. The statement made me angry, but since I don't really judge my value based on how my bulletin board looks, my temper cooled a bit. Still, someone wrote on the board instead of talking to me. That's a spineless way of communicating. No one can see the other responsibilities I was carrying when I made the bulletin board.

We all desire to be understood, and a one-way dialogue does not allow for that.

I Get It

I just read the abstract for a nature article: "Membrane-associated Glucocorticoid Activity is Necessary for Modulation of Long-Term Memory via Chromatin Regulation" and thought to myself, "Holy cow... I know what the glucocorticoid pathway is! I can understand this!"

Science is a rush. A crawling, slave-working rush.

Open to Interpretation

Sometimes a dream gives you more insight into your life than reflective thinking can.

I dreamed that Cory, Trenton, and I were playing a game in an open renovated school. The game broke up because Cory had to go do something else, but Brandon would be starting a new game soon.

Between games, I decided to go into a school and sit in on a conference. Everyone there was supposed to be dressed in either maroon or orange, and by chance (or conscious re-assignment) I was wearing a maroon VT shirt as well. We were all gathered to listen to an old lady talk about... ethics? Or maybe it was philosophy. I wasn't supposed to be there, but I grabbed lunch anyway. Then, I met another girl who wasn't taking the conference seriously. She saw me having a drink of lemonade during a powerpoint presentation and offered some of her "water" from a water bottle. She made some suggestive comment that it was vodka, and the conference speaker singled her out. Then, she said something sassy back to the speaker. Then, we broke into groups and started talking about storybooks. I ended up with this sassy girl, whose name was Sarah, and we started... cuddling?

Could our feelings by day be the plot of dreams at night?

Wrestle with Jimmy

I'm back. Today I finished my website prototype in one day. It was difficult starting on it since I have to both develop the website design and the content simultaneously. There were quite a few decisions to go through, but I feel much more comfortable that I could do it for a client today. I had thoughts about using this final project as a springboard for creating an educational website for training pharmacy technicians if I ever own a pharmacy. Even thinking about that right now makes me feel spread thin.

As I designed my summer schedule, I realized that if I only knew which of the two I would be doing--working as a research professor or pharmacist--I wouldn't have any difficulty finishing college on time and in honors. As it is, I'm not certain that I can take enough honors credits to make the requirements for an In Honors diploma. Even that makes me wonder, what does an honors diploma afford someone? Pride? If anything, someone's portfolio or curriculum vitae should stand out as more proof of value.

I should berate myself quickly before I go to bed for spending so much time playing a crummy little flash game called Drift Burners 2. I found out that I am a completionist, and I cannot handle seeing even one empty check-box on an achievement list. Drat. We make constructs just so we can feel perfect. Awards, achievements, points, & videogames, all fall into that same bucket.

Just moments ago I got a very nice email from Dr. Castagnoli, who I found out is retired from researching. We will be meeting next week to talk about his monoamine oxidase (MAO) research, and I hope to find out whether there is anyone at Virginia Tech doing interesting research on the biochemistry of the mammalian brain. As yet, I have a potential position lined up with Dr. Sobrado, a professor in the department of biochemistry, but I would like to find something more closely related to my interests. Dr. Sobrado does work on infectious diseases like tuberculosis and parasites, and my project would likely be on characterizing proteins--a general & valuable skill. However, previous research and publication in the field of neuroscience could be a strong selling point to get a fitting position in the neuroscience department at UVA.

Still, even if that doesn't work out, my residents make me very happy. They were just singing Wheezer's "Say it ain't so" in the lounge together, with Spencer playing the guitar (he really knows how to play!).

Sprint to the weekend!

Paper Tigers

How could a poem about a molecule be made interesting? I looked down at my scratch pad and saw some strained lines about the structure of dopamine. I stared at it until the words turned into fuzzy squiggles, which turned me off to the idea at start.

I enjoy interpreting art--the eureka moment of understanding what the author envisioned, but this makes tending my own poetry seem a dingy slogging task. Seeing my own unfinished product: unwinding the tangled phrases, contemplating rhyme, planning meter and verse. All of these feel like unsightly things reserved for a janitor.

Truly, the most painful part of art is beginning it. While the pen rode over the parchment, I lost track of time, and even when I met a clearing where my poem took a final form, I wanted more. I wanted to feel the pain that marks perfection. So, I spent the night awake, sparring with the English language, forcing it into something closer to what I wanted. This time spent "in the zone," is something I never regret.