Lab Fever

24 10 2008

Don’t worry… I haven’t caught anything contagious. I work in a lab in my free time (as little as it is) and I have recently been researching, and researching and researching and researching and reserching and researching… You get the beautiful picture. I have gone a looong time without anything to do lab work wise.I know that growing up pure cultures is not the most fascinating thing in the universe, but at least I could see that i was accomplishing something useful. I know that the research can be boring, but I am almost to the point of creating a second research project an starting it up just for the heck of it. Starting a project that has nothing to do with the bacteria that I am working with…or researching. Maybe I’ll discover a use for some of the odd isolates that we just got in… tac plasmid ecoli or maybe the glowing pathogen… I don’t know. All I know for certain at this point is that if I don’t do some actual research work I will go insane and then I’ll never get to work with the things that I want to.

I have been thinking about studying the intracellular pathways of Lysteria Monocytogenes… maybe that will be a break from the tedium of non-stop reading while your other labmates are creating phage stocks and running disinfectant tests. Reminds me of the time I went to a dance and was left behind as all of my other friends got asked to dance. No fun and you feel more than a little left out. Only instead of being asked to dance last now I am being last to be asked to do PCR.





Tell me something that I don’t know already

15 10 2008

It’s official. I’ve taken the test and proven myself against all the others. As if taking a silly exam tells you anything about how geeky you are…honestly they were biased against the Science geeks of the world. Just because I cannot name all of the characters in Star Trek (in their appropriate seasons) or tell someone they look hot in Klingon, does not disqualify me as a geek.

What about those of us who have (or plan to) science as their major? What about people who think that studying bacterial pathogenesis and other toxin-producing microbes are cooler than playing trivial pursuit? What about people who life in labs for most of their College careers. My Microbiology professor told me today that I should under no circumstances go to medical school over graduate school. He claimed that it was a waste of my talent. I don’t know about that, but honestly in my opinion it’s far geekier to know what a Dendritic cell (and the four cytokines that activate them) than to know information about imaginary characters or play video games all day.

But, despite my dislike of the entire geek classification system I am proud to call myself an official
major geek

Those who know me, laugh at me (and with me)





The Evil Gremlins of Grammar

13 10 2008

Classes are like creatures, unpredictable, unreliable, and at times like this difficult. For me English has always been personified as a gremlin.
It was an interesting creature, a seemingly innocent ball of fluff that gave out assignments with harmless sounding titles like “How I Made A Difference” or “Keplarian Experience,” teaching me about interesting sounding words and facinating authors. It was tricky to catch on to the new ways of writing that were needed in order to attain the better grades. I soon learned that if I didn’t revise that my ball of fluff would immediately grow poisonous fangs and nip me until it was written correctly. In short editing hurt.
As soon as I found myself on top of the work another assignment would fall down for me to complete, and the gremlin that was chasing me seemed to become faster and multiply into an army of time grabbing gremlins as the semester progressed. Each assignment created another gremlin that would chase me, and they never left, because the assignments were never over. My writing became more streamlined, not because of any mental choice, but out of necessity. From time to time I would take a breather and study for the chemistry griffin, but I could never stay with another class for an extended period of time, because the gremlins would devour me.

They became more vicious as we began to take grammar tests. This was a road trap that I would never have foreseen. The gremlins began playing games with my preconceived notions of grammar and punctuation. They seemed to be changing my papers for not apparent reason, placing commas in places where I would never have guessed that a comma would be necessary. Every mistake brought their tiny teeth closer to my heels. Every triumph was undermined by yet another gremlin with a comment as they tore into each of my papers. I thought that I would never be free from the tide of screeching creatures tearing at my papers.
I still shudder at the though of the evil gremlins of grammar, but now I am prepared for them… I take science instead and leave the essays to the english majors of the world.





College and Dancing

20 09 2008

Four years of training and work and you find yourself the little fish in a big pond. In actuality it was more like you went from being a minnow in a tide pool to a miniscule zooplankton within the majesty of the ocean. The average SAT and ACT scores have grown so astronomical that one questions how anyone got here in the first place and if they did how much of a life they had to prepare to take said examination. Test scores and classes are wonderful in itself but in order to truly thrive here there is one talent that they don’t teach at most college prep high schools. Apparently the only way to be able to bring yourself to a more multi-cellular experience at college you must either be able to speak twelve different languages, be well on the way to curing world hunger, or be a pretty darn good dancer.

By good dancer I mean for guys you have to actually ask girls to dance and for girls this means that one must be acquainted with fourteen hundred thousand different types of pairs dancing. Take tonight for instance. I frequented a swing dance where males were dancing with females (the typical arrangement). A male asked me to dance, and I discovered that although I knew West coast swing, balboa, lindy-hop, and various renditions of triple swing I did not know the form of dancing that he was familiar with. Then you get hopelessly lost and there are only two ways to reconcile this inadequacy, you either fake it and pray that you don’t fall, or you admit defeat and retreat to the wall. I chose the latter over the former, and stumbled my way through a few dances before I found a couple of guys that I could at least follow their lead.

Following is the best skill a female dancer can learn in this life. If you are a good follow then you can do just about anything with the guy if he’s talented. And dancing with the talented ones are the only reason I submit myself to the dancing scene.





Evil English Essays and Epidemiology

12 09 2008

There comes a time in college when a person discovers new things about themselves. I discovered one the first week of my Freshman English class. You see I was mistakenly under the assumption that I liked writing essays. Two minutes was all it took to dissuade me from said assumption.
“The piece,” the professor began ”is quite simple in actuality.” I half ignored her; I had already finished the assignment. There was no need to pay attention. I continued to put my books and papers into my bag.
“I want you to re -write your piece as though it happened in one day.“ My hand froze as the ramifications that her announcement had on my paper came down on my head like a sledgehammer on concrete.
“One day?” Another student obviously as aghast as myself at the loss of an entire night’s pondering and pain asked the same question that rang in my mind.
“Twenty four hours” she quantified cheerfully, oblivious to the horror struck and pale faces around the room.
I left the room and hurried to my next class angry at my paper’s now useless state. My friend Samantha caught up to my focused walk, breathless.
“What’s with you?” She stopped, wary of the daggers flying from my eyes.
“The paper’s useless.” My voice was venomous, and I knew it. I never could hide any of my emotions from anyone.
“What paper?” The fortunate girl was not in my English class, and she was blissfully immersed in a far less strenuous class.
“How. I. Made. A. Difference” I spat the last word.
“OK,” she looked me over “You know it’s just a paper.”
I didn’t respond and she left me to fume. We met others, but my smiling hellos were as false as some old men’s teeth. I held the door open for the other students as Samantha and I entered the lecture hall, happily allowing my muscles to fight against the heavy wood and forget about my writing for a moment.
I couldn’t focus on the lecture. The words from the speaker were ringing in my head not making any dent against the soundproof wall now erected around my consciousness, a wall called irrational anger.
“There are many different opportunities that you can have even as a freshman to. . .” The lecture started to break through the wall, muffled, but gaining strength as the subject matter became more interesting.  The wall receded back into my subconscious allowing the soft-spoken woman to be heard in my head.
“For those of you who wish to continue on through Graduate school or Medical school there is an office on campus that you can visit to help you in your plans. “ Samantha nudged me at this and mouthed ‘let’s go after.’ I nodded; I needed some scientific distraction to take my mind away from the paper matter before I ripped my first draft into a white flurry of parchment.
We laughed as we walked to the Advisement Center, dodging the unfortunate souls who still had classes to worry about. The advisement office was on the second floor of the building, just beyond a mass of starving college students mobbing the various food venues. We cautiously wove our way around the students, past the Taco Bell and to the nearest staircase. We entered the brightly lit room and marveled at the mountains of  papers and fliers arranged neatly along the bookshelves. Each piece was different in shape and color, as though someone could have just as easily used the paper for scrap booking as opposed to information regarding the different careers.
“How may we help you? ”The man at the desk looked very professional in his shirt and tie; his bright gold badge pronounced his name to be Kenneth.
“I’m looking for some help on planning my major for grad school. I don’t want to miss any classes that I need to take.” I smiled warmly, fingering a lurid pink paper regarding the MCAT.
“An excellent decision. Starting in your freshman year could get you into grad school in three years.” He sounded like he knew what he was doing.
“That’s why we came,” Samantha piped up behind me, her red hair bobbing with enthusiasm.
“What are you majoring in?” He turned to me, his smile matching Samantha’s warmth.
“Epidemiology.” I had done some research about my major. I was happiest studying diseases in history, the pandemics and the epidemics. I sat transfixed whenever I read about them, and about how they spread across the country and the world. There were other careers, but none of them as interesting as Epidemiology for me.
“Epistemology?” His smile froze on his face.
“Epidemiology. The study of disease.” I felt my own face freeze into a pleasant expression. Between the assignment in English and this I could tell that today was not my day.
“Um. . .Doug, will you come over here?” His face had become as white as a person with influenza.
“Yeah Ken?” Doug’s head popped out of an office, with his mouth full of something.
“You have any academic plans for Epidemiologists?”
“For whatty-whats?” The food spattered as he struggled to swallow. I wondered if I would need to perform the Heimlich.
“Disease studiers.” Ken rubbed his temples at his co-worker’s reaction, probably wondering what to do if Doug didn’t know the answer.
“Errr. . .I really don’t know, try public relations, that would be pretty good.” Samantha looked at me nearly bursting with laughter.
“There’s an Epidemiology class if you want to take it.” Ken’s head was still in his hands, eyes closed in concentration.
“I have to take immunology before I take the class.” He nodded weakly and I added, “Thanks for your help anyway.”
“Oh. . .you’re welcome, I guess.” He turned to Samantha warily, bracing himself for another unknown career like Epidemiology” What do you want to do?”
“Become a doctor.” Her chirp brought the color back to his cheeks.
“I think I may be able to help you.” He helped Samantha with her goals and classes, while I sat at the table staring aimlessly at a purple paper about law degrees and medicine.
“Why don’t we call the M& M bio guys about that Epidemiology stuff, that was rather awkward,” we heard Ken say as we left.
“At least you helped the next guy,” Samantha said from behind her monstrous stack of papers about becoming a doctor and going med school.
“I guess I did make some difference.” My heart stopped, I knew what I was going to write my paper on now.








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