Three-Ring Circus

Last month, I was selling tickets to the Battle Royale in which I took on the laboratory equipment. This week, I am selling tickets to my one-woman three-ring circus. The only problem with taking off a fabulous two weeks for winter break is having to get everything done before I am actually able to leave! Everything was timed perfectly and could fit fantastically into the four days of the week except that, of course, the dishes of cells I needed to use to make cell lysate were not confluent enough to use until Wednesday, thereby setting back everything by a day.

Thursday’s plan was simple: just strip and reblot two Westerns, lyse the HEK cells, make more GST-EWS and GST-EWS-Fli beads, pour and run an 8% polyacrylamide gel, and transfer gel to a membrane – simultaneously. Alone, each is simple, but try to do all at once, and regardless of how well you plan, it gets a little out of control. I felt like hanging up posters in the hallway inviting everyone to come watch Julie juggle multiple experiments and screw them all up! I made sure to write everything out the night before so I could just follow through quickly without having to pause to think about what I needed to do, and there I was in the lab bright and early at 7am to get the day started. Shortly after arrival, I hit the first snag of the morning – after getting my bacterial cells situated and using liquid nitrogen for freeze-thaw cycles, the next step is sonification. I walked into the cold room to use the sonicator, started to set it up, and realized that the microtip was kept in the neighboring lab, and nobody would be in until 9am. It just goes to show that regardless of how well you plan, something out of your control will always hold you back. In the meantime, I continued ahead with the stripping and reblotting of the Western while I waited for lab members to arrive next-door, but obviously my timeline for the day wouldn’t work due to having to wait for the ever-important sonicator tip. I was okay for a while, but by the time noon hit, I was doing so many things at once that I was running around the lab like the proverbial chicken with his head cut off, trying to associate which step of which experiment was counting down on which timer. At one point, I had three timers simultaneously beeping at me while I was trying to figure out how to proceed with the next 3 steps at once. Sadly, none of this chaos and disorganization was due to a lack of planning on my behalf – just due to my inability to actually follow through with my meticulous military-precise plans (I blame that on the sonicator tip hold-up!). I have also discovered that whether or not I want to be, I am on the Graduate School Laboratory Diet, meaning that I no longer have time to eat when I am in the lab. Having to walk out my front door at 6:15am meant that I had no time to eat breakfast, and just planned on taking an early lunch. With timers going off left and right, clearly there was no time for lunch, and next thing I knew, it was 5:30, I still had yet to consume anything for the day, and I still had a few more hours of work ahead of me. I wonder if it would be possible to request some sort of glucose IV-drip while I am in the lab to eliminate the need to ever leave for food while still maintaining energy… just think of all the time that would save!

After a week and a half off to study for finals, I realized that I did miss being in the lab. I think with graduate school, so much is thrown at you all at once that it’s really easy to become overwhelmed. When I’m in class, I’m stressed over what’s going on in lab, and likewise when I’m in lab, I’m stressed over having to study for classes. Taking the time to sort out each one separately definitely reminded me that I do enjoy what I’m doing, and having a week in lab and lab alone, no classes and studying since finals were over, reassured my confidence that this is what I want to do, and that things will get better and I will be happier once I can be in the lab 60 hours a week without having to go home and study. Since I’m finally getting into the depth of my rotation project, I feel bad packing up and leaving for two weeks and I’m sure while I am at home I will feel guilty not being in the lab, but you know what? I just survived what everyone in the program proclaims to be the worst semester of graduate school, so I am going to go enjoy my two science-free weeks and let my brain recover from more biochemistry studying than I ever thought possible!

Death by Biochemistry

BREAKING NEWS! Yours truly has developed what may very well be the first ever case of an illness never yet recorded in humans. Shocking, unbelievable, bizarre, yet true – the world’s first honest-to-goodness biochemistry allergy. A quick PubMed search yields no previous studies on biochemistry allergies (just for clarification, no I did not really look, but you’re right, I wouldn’t have put it past me). Clearly, I am the first ever with such a severe case. Somewhere, some future doctor from whom I will seek treatment will surely get a ground-breaking article in New England Journal of Medicine out of my story.

The past four days have involved nothing but studying for my two upcoming finals in biochemistry and oncology transformed cell. I have noticed a bizarre pattern of my health based on what I am studying. On Thursday and Friday morning/afternoon/early evening, I was in the library all day studying for biochem, and I felt pretty crummy. Fever, achy, congested, sore throat – all your classic allergy/cold symptoms. Friday evening, I switched to studying for transformed cell, and within a matter of a few hours, I felt better. I could breathe clearly, swallow without pain, fever is suddenly gone – I thought my problems were solved! Saturday morning, upon awaking feeling pretty chipper considering the previous days, I cracked open the biochemistry book. Aaah-aaaah-aaaah-CHOO! Almost immediately, the sneezing and stuffy nose returns. After a quick review of the material, it’s back to tumor biology – and with the switch comes pleasantly clear sinuses and feeling fine, normal temperature, etc. I wake up Sunday feeling decent, start the biochemistry, and once again – within a matter of hours, am back to a state of physical misery, congestion, sore throat, difficulty breathing and a 103 fever!

Isn’t it obvious what’s going on here? I have developed an allergy to biochemistry! Now, I could make a case for it being all mental if it was just feeling queasy and nauseous upon studying biochemistry versus say, sitting in front of the TV for a few hours, but it’s not like it’s deciding between something fun and studying. Furthermore, it’s not just not feeling so great or a headache, it’s being based on the congestion of my sinuses (and last I checked, I couldn’t fake a stuffy nose!) It’s really looking at the lesser of two evils, here. And to be honest, I think I actually prefer studying biochemistry, because as hopeless as that situation seems, I think tumor bio is looking even MORE hopeless since there is much, much more material on that exam and none of the lectures even begin to correspond to each other. And, strange as it is – I actually kind of enjoy the material for biochemistry. I may not have a great grasp on it or feel like I really need to learn it in as much detail as we are taught, but don’t dislike the studying, and certainly not enough to make myself sick over it! So the only true explanation for my problems – a rapidly worsening allergy to biochemistry itself.

Then it dawned on me – I must inform my biochemistry professors of this dreadful and rare disease immediately! I mean, if studying has made me this sick already, imagine what yet another full 14-16 hour day of studying tomorrow will do! And worse yet – the exam. If studying alone generates this much of a response, I can only imagine what the actually heat-of-the-moment hardcore thinking and analyzing of biochemistry will do to me – this could prove to be a fatal allergy. Just think of the implications that would have on the course and the program. I can see the headlines already – “Biochemistry Department Administers Fatal Final”, or perhaps “Deadly Science Final Causes Other Students to Flock to Humanities”. Honestly, neither would be very good for the program. I picture a drastic decrease in enrollment, a few investigations by the Board of Directors, and a potential folding of the program, leaving the faculty members scrambling for new positions at other universities. Really, by not taking this exam, I would be doing a huge favor to the faculty. Just giving me an A in the course and letting me go on with my life would really be in everyone’s best interest, not just mine… honest!

One 'A' Please, Wrapped and Delivered

Things have been pretty busy over here… an insane number of hours in lab last week but luckily I have managed to score a few days off altogether so I can actually do some studying between classes as my finals have already started. I’ve also managed to learn a few new techniques in the lab without causing any major catastrophes/disasters/breaking lab equipment/exploding things/setting anyone on fire – so I suppose there is still hope for me yet! Not to mention that in sitting and talking with my PI the other day, he said he has been impressed with my work thus far and if I would like to return to his lab for my dissertation then we can talk about that in the next week or so, but he thinks I am the right caliber for his lab (apparently breaking shared resource centrifuges and duct taping the spectrophotometer makes me fit right in with everyone else? I’m not sure..).

Regardless, there are a few things I am saving up to discuss at a later point in time... and by later, I mean after finals, when I have time to sit/think/function again. One final down today, and I’m sure I could have aced it if I knew everything possible about making transgenic mice and how to express siRNA in cell lines in an inducible tet-on/tet-off Cre recombinase system, and the step-by-step reagents and incubation times on the ten thousand experiments you can run based off a Western, and all sorts of stuff that is, you know, really simple and obvious to everyone and honestly, what first year PhD student shouldn’t have had lots of direct experience in this already and be able to answer all sorts of manipulative questions? [rolls eyes] As one of my fellow PhD gals put it, some of those essay questions could basically have stated “write out, in three paragraphs, exactly all the laboratory work required to complete a thesis on topics X, Y, and Z.” All I can say is with all crap shoved into my tet-off Cre recombinase siRNA inducing cell vectors, they have about a 0% chance of survival (which is, coincidentally, approximately the grade I expect to receive on that section since I think don’t think I was supposed to have the tet-off system on the same vector on which I floxed the siRNA, my bad). Next up: biostatics, followed by the absolutely dreaded and practically tear-inducing biochemistry final, and the immense amount of detail transformed cell final bringing up the rear next week.

Just thought I would share a bit of holiday humor courtesy of my ever so witty mother. Last week I received an email from her asking for a holiday wish list (I’m 22 – somehow, I feel I’m a bit old to be writing out what I want for the year). I responded stating that there is only one thing in the entire world that I actually want/need/desire/have a use for at this point in time, and that is an A in biochemistry. There is not a single material object that I want more than an A. This is the email response I received, which did add a chuckle to my otherwise study-packed mind-boggling day:

To: Julie

From: Hanukkah Harry

Re: Your skimpy wish list

This memo is in regard to your wish list of an “A” on your biochemistry final. This is a most unusual request that may not be the easiest to fulfill. However, since you have been a good girl this year, we will try our best. Please forward the name, email address, phone number, and home address of the professor. I will contact him and try to determine how much an “A” will cost in the form of a bribe. It may be easier if you have any ‘dirt’ you can dig up on this professor. So I may budget accordingly, do you have any idea how much an “A” usually goes for? I have ties with Santa and checked with his reindeer and some of them have contacts wit the FBI and CIA, so we may have some additional reinforcement there. Please advise if this is satisfactory if you have some other requests that may be easier to fulfill.

OY VEY, Hanukkah Harry

So… anyone have any idea what the going rate of an A is these days, anyway?

Just call me Indefatigable.

“Say, you don't happen to have any plans for the evening, do you?” Most girls smile at the thought of those words. The phrase conjures up images of the cute co-worker about to ask if you would like to join him for dinner later that evening. A few drinks, a nice dinner, some juicy gosspy to share with the friends in the morning... sounds like a pretty good evening. However, that same little phrase can also take on a completely different and much more sinister meaning than an inquiry as to whether or not you would like to go out for an enjoyable evening with an attractive male, when uttered by your happy-married-with-three-young-kids PI. Suddenly, you wish you really did have legitimate plans, like tickets to the symphony or visiting your sick aunt in the hospital. Not that it would would matter anyways -- the only company you’ll be enjoying for the evening is that of your pipettes.

“Do you have plans for tonight?”, my PI asked while sitting in his office discussing the next steps for my project. A sense of dread runs through me at those mere words. “Just studying,” I admit. “I have two finals next week and two more the following week, so I have a lot of work to finish up” I say out loud, but running through my head, I’m thinking that my plans for the evening were to check up on my sick fish in the ‘isolation hospital tank’ I had to set up last night and how after all my studying I’d really like to get a few hours of sleep because I was up until almost 3am last night taking care of the fish and scrubbing down the entire main tank in the event that this is something viral or bacterial that could spread and cleaning and detoxifying absolutely everything short of dunking the other fish in bleach for sterilization.. and I’d really just like to get to bed early. Then comes the moment of pause, in which we both attempt to calculate in our heads how late I would have to stay tonight. Three hours to rock the GST-CBP with the glutathione beads, 45 minutes to wash the beads, and a half hour or so to add the proper proteins and antibodies, and then leaving the reaction to tumble overnight. Seeing as how it was already 3:45, that meant the earliest I would be leaving the lab would be 8… twelve hours after I arrived for the morning to set things up. Normally, I wouldn’t mind – I like being in the lab and I’m willing to put in the hours, but I desperately need some study time. “Well,” the PI asks, “can you stay and finish up? Am I being ridiculously out-of-line with this request? Tell me if I’m being ridiculous.” “No, no, not at all, no problem, I can stay…” What? Are those words coming out of my mouth? That’s my voice I’m hearing, but why am I saying such a stupid thing? I can’t stay! I don’t want to stay! I don’t have time.. I have to go home and study and get a few hours of sleep! Apparently, my brain and my vocal cords are not working on the same wavelength. I remind my PI that I have class from 9:30 – 5:30 the following day, so I won’t be able to do bench work. “No problem,” he states. “I’ll be in the lab at 8:30, we can take care of a few things before your class. Actually, come to think of it, if you want to be really assiduous, it would be great if you could come in at 7:00 to add the prot G beads.” Assiduous? No, thank you. I don’t want to be assiduous. I want to be an indolent slacker, actually. What do you mean laziness isn't acceptable in graduate school? What was I thinking? I'm too tired and stretched thin to be assiduous right now! Somehow, however, informing my PI that really, I'd rather just sleep in and be a lazy slackass didn't seem acceptable, so naturally I smiled and nodded and said that sounded like a plan. I’m not sure why I have such a hard time saying no – I guess as a graduate student, I feel like it’s my job to be in the lab all the time, which normally I don’t mind – it’s just that I’m really rather stressed about finals and I know I have to do an absolutely stellar job on the biochemistry and transformed cell finals to make up for my downright dismal biochem and lackluster transformed cell midterm grades. I think I’m also a little concerned that if I do decide to stay in this lab for my dissertation, the lab may be getting on the full side – so if I show that I am willing to put in the extra time and extra hours, maybe he will be more likely to allow me to return. Or maybe there is no real explanation, other than the fact that I am the hugest suck-up to ever grace the research building. Regardless, I wonder if it is out of line for me to ask for a sleeping bag, so that I can at least catch a few hours of zzzz’s on the lab bench, which will save me the commuting time.

So, back to the original question – did I have plans for tonight? I did indeed have penciled in several good hours of studying. But instead, I didn’t walk in my front door until 9pm, and I tended to Picasso the sick fish, replied to a few e-mails, and vented about my day. Now I am off to take a shower, and probably head to bed in the near future, since my alarm will be going off at 5:45 and I’m running on only 4 hours of sleep from last night. Studying completed tonight: zero hours. Old plan (study really hard and ace finals) out; new plan (spend bazillion hours in lab over next 3 weeks and fail finals; when letter comes kicking me out of program, cry to PI and hope he will fight to keep me in because I am so hard working and such a fabulous go-getter in the lab) in. If you need me, I'll be hard at work in the lab. Just ask for Assiduous Julie.

Back to Reality

I’ve decided that the Monday morning after Thanksgiving is, without a doubt, the most difficult morning out of the year to drag myself up and out of bed. I mean, think about it – Thanksgiving is just a tease. On all the other standard federal holidays for which one gets off of school, such as Columbus Day, Martin Luther King Day, etc., it’s just a three day weekend. One extra day off, so it’s not like you make major travel plans and go anywhere or do anything, short of possibly a trip to the shore for Memorial Day/Labor Day. Basically, you use the extra day off to sleep in a bit and get some work done. Tuesday morning comes along, and off to work/class/etc you go, pleased to have had a three-day weekend. By the time Monday after winter break rolls around, you’ve had time off to relax and it’s time to go back – plus, it’s a whole new course schedule so at least it’s something different to change things up a bit. But then there is Thanksgiving. Thursday AND Friday off (and, if you’re sneaky like me, Wednesday too – my only class for the day was cancelled, so I was able to sneak out of lab for the day and extend my holiday). You’ve finally gotten into the whole not-going-in-to-work/class thing down, and next thing you know – it’s Monday morning. It’s too long of a break to just be a casual day off, but too short to actually recuperate and relax. And frankly, most of my Thanksgiving at least seemed to be consumed by traveling from D.C. to Philly and then Philly to Harrisburg and then Harrisburg back to Philly to head back to D.C. The most sleep I managed to get any night of break was 7 hours – what kind of relaxation and enjoyment is that? This morning was definitely a struggle to make it to class, and based on the fact that only about half the biochemistry class was in attendance, I’m going to assume that I was not the only one who cringed when the alarm went off this morning.
After a few days of doing significantly less studying than I had hoped (and needed) to get done, it’s back to reality. Things in the lab are going fairly well – when I’m not there, I bitch about having to go in, but frankly when I’m actually in lab, I’ve been content and I enjoy what I’m doing. It’s all new techniques for me, so I actually feel like I’m learning (although with learning new things comes the perpetual feeling of incompetency that I hate so much). I’ve realized that perhaps one of the reasons I’m not a huge fan of grad school right now is that it perpetually makes me feel guilty. And seriously now, I’m Jewish – I have more guilt built in than I could ever possibly need! I enjoy class and studying new things which will be relevant to my future career in the lab (well, so they’re trying to convince me, but I still don’t know why I really need to have the pKas of ever amino acid and their side chains memorized to be successful when I can look them up if needed), but when I’m in class I’m always thinking about all the work that is waiting for me in lab and how much I still have to finish before I can head home that evening. When I’m in lab, I enjoy the actual bench work, but I perpetually feel guilty that I’m not studying and become easily annoyed when I have to sit around waiting for someone else because if I’m not actually actively doing something, I should be in the library. I like each separately, but together – it’s miserable!
And speaking of miserable, if you’ll excuse me, halftime is now over so I must get back to watching the Steelers lose to Indianapolis. I fear it will not be a happy evening.

Battle Royale: Julie vs. Laboratory Equipment. Tickets $25

I’ve heard it said before that nothing is foolproof to a talented fool. Today I learned that it is indeed a true statement, and I am that talented fool. There are good days in the lab, there are bad days in the lab, and there are days in the lab when I full expect the program director to come storming down the hallway, barge into the lab, wrestle the lab coat off of me while simultaneous screaming that I am a disgrace to science, and marching me right out of the research building. I should have realized that yesterday’s attack by the autoclave was only the preliminary round and there was more to come.
This morning, I arrived in lab early, around 7:45am, so that I could start a few things before class and use the hour-long biochemistry class as an incubation period. I had all my bench work complete by 8:30, and all I had to do was put my four 1L flasks in the incubator shaker and then head to class, with plenty of time to spare. However….

Battle #1: Julie versus Shaker Incubator
8:30am, Autoclave Room

All I had to do was lift the top off the shaker incubator, insert my 1L flasks, close the lid, set the temperature to 37C and the rpm to 225. It honestly doesn’t get much easier than this. The flasks are held in place by posts which are surrounded by coiled springs, but they’ve been looped over to hold smaller flasks, probably 500mL. Unwrapping the spring proves to be much more difficult than it looks, and quite the struggle results. I’m tugging and pulling and the spring is fighting back by pinching my fingers between the coils and my nitrile gloves kept getting caught and were literally shredding. Finally, I get one of the springs unlooped, put in a flask – and realize it is now too loose, and I have to struggle and fight again in order to double it up again to hold the flask tight enough. Suddenly I feel a sharp pain in my thumb, I glance down, but the glove is miraculously not torn on the thumb, so I figure I couldn’t have done too much damage, right? If I really caught my thumb in a coil, the glove would have ripped first… or so one would assume. So I continue on the struggle, finally get the flask in tight enough, and set to work on the other three. Eventually, they are all in, the lid is back on, the incubator is beeping at me and I finally figure out how to shut it up, I go back to the lab, grab my notebook to run to class since I’m late by this point, realize I’m still wearing my gloves, peel them off… and suddenly a puddle of blood starts to drip out of my glove. Apparently, half of my thumb nail ripped off in the process, and there was blood everywhere. And lucky me, I had to remove the flasks later that afternoon, add a few more contents in the lab, and then fight to get them back in the incubator again. At this point, I will be perfectly happy to never have to deal with the shaker incubator ever again.
Winner: I’m going to call this one a tie. The incubator got my nail and drew blood, but I was finally able to get my flasks in to proceed with my experiment.

Battle #2: Julie versus Spectrophotometer
12:15pm, Freezer Room

Next idiot-proof procedure of the day: after changing the LB broth for the bacteria, take optical density (OD) readings every 15 minutes until the reading is between 0.6 and 0.8. This was more of a pain than any sort of a challenge – the research building has very long hallways with lots of turns, and the autoclave room with the shaker incubator and my flasks is at the absolute end of the west side of the building, and the freezer room is at the end of the east side, so basically, in the time it took me to go to the autoclave room, draw 1mL samples for my cuvettes, walk to the spectrophotometer, and take readings, the 15 minutes had passed and I had to rush back for new samples. But the whole process is very simple – calibrate machine for protein readings, set the wavelength, insert blank, insert samples – no problem. Three of my flasks reached the desired OD reading at the same time, so I scurried down the hallway to remove the flasks from the incubator to add the next reagent, and since the other flask was getting close, quickly went to take another OD reading. I returned, open the spectrophotometer, went to insert the blank – and realized the apparatus inside the spectrophotometer that holds the cuvettes was gone! In a matter of 10 minutes, somebody had come, unscrewed the cuvette holder, and walked off with it like a bandit, leaving me stranded. I rush down a floor to try their spectrophotometer, which had an ‘out of use’ sign on it. Thanks to my quick wit and creative thinking, I was finally able to duct-tape the cuvette in place, ghetto style, without covering any part through which the reading is taken, but of course, by this time, the reading was slightly over the desired 0.8. There’s always something to ruin my experiments.
Winner: My fabulous duct-taping skills did not happen soon enough and my timing was off. Therefore, the victor was the spectrophotometer… or the person who stole the cuvette holder (seriously, who does that?!)

Battle #3: Julie versus Centrifuge

5:45pm, tissue culture room

The battle to end all battles. At the end of a long, tiring, frustrating day which began 10 hours earlier when I walked into to lab, I reached the home stretch. Load up the contents of the 4 flasks into 700mL plastic tubes, insert them into the centrifuge, spin down for a half hour, discard supernatant, and stick in the -80 freezer overnight. Now, honestly, what could possibly be more simple than operating a centrifuge? It must be the most, well, foolproof of all laboratory equipment. And, as previously stated – I am that fool that can screw it up. The model was slightly different than what I had been using during my summer lab rotation, on which the inner lid was actually attached to the outer lid. I wasn’t aware that they were separate on this model, and the way the inner lid was hanging on the top, it actually looked like it was attached. I inserted my samples, started to shut the outer lid, and wham – the inner lid fell off and landed on top. Nothing seemed damaged, so I simply went to pull the inner lid out – but it wouldn’t budge. Amazingly, it fell perfectly in line, just upside-down, to how it should be screwed in, but somehow, it wedged its way in, and I couldn’t get it out. Not wanting to admit to my own stupidity, I first tracked down another first year PhD girl and asked her for help. When the two of us couldn’t get the lid out, I knew I was in trouble. Next stop: ask one of the lab techs for help, particularly since she is the one who has used the centrifuge in the past. She looked at it, furrowed her brow, and put in a good 10 minute wrestling match with the lid, and finally gave up. Thankfully with her help, we were able to squeeze out my sample bottles so my experiment wasn’t completely lost, but we definitely bent the wedged-in centrifuge lid in the process. At least this allowed me to transfer my samples into smaller centrifuge bottles and spin them down in a different centrifuge. However, even that had to have its flaws - apparently, one of the smaller centrifuge bottles had a small crack in it which nobody had noticed, and as I was walking upstairs with them, a small stream of bacterial culture started to leak right down my sleeve... ewwwww. I was about ready to go dunk myself in bleach and dive straight into the autoclave for sterlization! Later in the evening, an older graduate student, a post-doc, and a PI from another lab were involved in the fix-the-centrifuge process, with no progress whatsoever. Yes, today I single-handedly managed to break an idiot-proof $12,000 centrifuge. Awesome.
Winner: Obviously, the centrifuge. I was no match whatsoever.

At the end of the day, the overall champion is quite obvious. I just am not up to par with the cunning, sly, and downright nasty laboratory equipment of the medical center research building. Someone really should come take away my lab coat and my pipettes before I lose a finger to the luminometer or ignite myself and go up in flames courtesy of a bunsen burner... but when I do, don't worry, I'll be prepared to tell you the whole story so someone can get a chuckle out of my blatent stupidity.

Disgruntled Julie: A Post-Doc in Progress?!

I spent this summer slaving away in an epidemiology lab, completing my first of the required three laboratory rotations. I actually enjoyed the research significantly more than I was expecting, although did not generate any mass quantities of data myself (the idea of rotations are to help you choose a dissertation lab – not to actually get a publication). But one day, while I was pipetting away in an attempt to identify mitochondrial mutations in the buccal cells and lymphocytes of smokers in hopes of finding biomarkers for lung cancer, I was asked to co-author an epidemiology review paper on the effects of alcohol on breast cancer. Being the new, energetic, desperate-to-please-everyone graduate student, I naturally jumped at the opportunity. So it was only a review paper and not publishing my own data, but still, it’s never a bad idea to get your name on a paper and get experience with scientific writing, right? It seemed like a grand idea at the time, so I gave my PI and post-doc the thumbs up that I would help out.

Writing my actual component to the paper took longer than expected, and I spent a significant amount of time revising and rewriting the section written by the post-doc with whom I worked all summer, mostly trying to make sense of his difficult to understand grammar (although I will give him credit for doing well, considering he just learned English a few years ago). Finally, the paper was done, and submitted to the PI of the lab for his opinion. He added in his comments; I spent a weekend making revisions while simultaneously studying for the biochemistry and methods exams, and that was that. Yesterday, however, the paper was sent back to me yet again, just to read through it and identify any last-minute changes that should be made. I skimmed through it, saved it to my desktop to focus on tonight, and just as I was saving it – noticed something that made me pause.

Across the top of the page, in large, bold lettering was the title of the paper. Below that, the list of authors, which read: Name of Post-Doc Ph.D., Disgruntled Julie Ph.D., Name-of-PI M.D. I was listed as already having my PhD. I stopped, dreamingly gazing at those three little letters after my name for a bit, realizing how nice they looked, and then grudgingly deleted them and sadly accepted that they will not belong there for another 6.5 to 7 years. So sad. Sigh.

Then I realized that the post-doc with whom I worked added a PhD after my name because he still thought that I was in the lab as a post-doc. I attempted a few times this summer to explain that I was just a student, and I thought he grasped that concept – but apparently not. This would explain why he continued to insist that I attended the post-doc meetings with my PI – I thought he just asked me to come along because I was working on a project with him and something may be mentioned that was overlooked when I sat in on the pre-doc meeting with the PI, but the whole time he thought I was in the same position as him. Then I remembered that at the end of my time in the lab, he apparently went to the PI and gushed on and on about me and how much he hoped I would return to the lab, because of I am apparently “highly knowledgeable, very intelligent, an independent thinker, and quick to master new procedures with excellent technique.” And he said all that, comparing me to what he would expect a postdoc to be able to do. Yes, that ego-boosting realization came to me today at just the proper time, after a day of feeling completely incompetent and useless in the lab and unable to even do menial tasks like autoclaving without ending up with one badly burnt left thumb.

More Buzz than a Beehive

I think this week more rumors are being produced in the labs than actual research. With the director leaving so soon (December 1^st), individuals are beginning to panic and things are becoming frantic. On two separate occasions now, I have witnessed post-docs walking through the hall with a stack of CVs, handing them out to the PIs who will be staying, practically begging for positions in their labs. It’s hard to stay calm and remain convinced that things will not fall apart when this is the atmosphere by which I am surrounded.

In the lab meeting this week, our PI sat down and told us what he knew about the situation, and stopped to ask those of us in his lab (the post-docs, lab techs, and lowly graduate students) if we had any questions regarding the loss of the director. While I personally couldn’t think of any to ask, it was reassuring to know that had I thought of one, there would be someone willing to attempt to answer. This is not the first situation in which I have questioned my right to dig into larger issues. Let’s face it -- as a first year PhD student, I’m at the bottom of the ladder here (okay, so technically masters’ students are probably even slightly below me – strictly because they are only here for one year and then graduate and move on, so they don’t share the same long-term concerns that the PhD students do) and I often find myself asking whether or not it is appropriate for me to inquire about certain things.

For example, I have been thinking quite a lot lately about the lab in which I should do my third, and hopefully final, rotation. I’d really like to make it count – not that I haven’t enjoyed my first two rotations, but I am hoping that I really click with my last rotation and find a lab that I know is right for me (yes, I realize how naive that is and that it won’t actually happen). There is a PI with whom I am interested in working, and had discussed the potential about doing a lab rotation back in May – but since then, several faculty members had warned me that he may not have the funding at this time to support a graduate student (after our second year, our stipend is picked up by our thesis lab, and while many students get their own grants, I’m not sure I’m ready to take that leap of faith in my own scientific competency that I can actually get my own grant – I want to know that my PI can support me if my grant proposal is turned down!). If I am going to rotate with him, I want to know that I can financially go into that lab if I decide to – but how do I address the question? Am I just supposed to walk in and say “Hi Dr. X., I’m really interested in your research and your lab, but well, can you afford me?” Clearly, I would word it a tad more eloquently, but the thought of walking in and asking about funds, even if it is done indirectly, still makes me feel needy and whiney, like I’m some kind of high-maintenance girl making sure the latest boyfriend-of-the-month can afford to keep me living the lifestyle to which I have become accustomed. I feel like it is an important question and I have the right to know the answer – but how am I supposed to appropriately address the issue? Coming out and asking feels so… direct and forward and not within my rights as a first year student. How am I supposed to question grant funding when I’m still so old-fashioned as to call all the faculty members as Dr. So-and-So even though within the program itself, everybody just addresses them by their first name? I know that in grad school, nobody walks you through the process, but I wish I had a better idea of the guidelines between looking out for your own future and inquiring appropriately and looking like a self-absorbed inappropriate ass.

On a lighter note, I got my free university-sponsored flu shot on Wednesday. Because something like 87% of the population is right-handed, the chairs at all the stations were set up to get the shot in your left arm, and because I am completely oblivious, I just sat down without thinking it through. It dawned on me, however, after the nursing student had cleaned off the spot and had the needle out and was about to inject, that as a left-handed individual who tends to get sore arms following shots, I should get the flu shot in my right arm. The sane response would be “Oh, excuse me, I’m left handed, so can I get this in the other arm?” But we all know purely by the fact that I thought it would be a good idea to go for my PhD in oncology that clearly, I am not sane, and my response upon realizing this was to jump up and squeal “Oh! That’s my pipetting side! Can I get it in my right arm?” Yes, my first thought was not that I am left-handed in terms of writing or any other daily required activities – it was that my left arm is used for pipetting. Apparently, laboratory bench work has taken over as the #1 most important use for my left hand.

Laboratory Fashionista

Laboratory Fashionista. Let’s face it – two words that just don’t belong together. When I think of biomedical researchers, I don’t tend to think of the most fashionable individuals – which is why I find my Friday evening elevator conversation so ironic. It started with a complement on my jacket, and turned into those in the elevator agreeing that I always look so well put-together and presentable, culminating with, “Julie, you’re so fashionable” and stating that I often look like I walked off the pages of a J.Crew catalogue.

I found myself having to stifle a laugh – if anything, I find my daily laboratory wear to be on the opposite end of the spectrum. Granted, it’s nice on days when you wake up late or aren’t feeling well to just be able to throw on an old pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and still be dressed appropriately, but most days I look in my closet at the A-line skirts and heels I used to wear every day when I interned on Captiol Hill and feel like an underdressed slob. I am entering a field where my daily routine of cheap jeans (I refuse to wear pants that cost over $30 into the lab ever, courtesy of my fabulous track record of either spilling things myself or having people around me spill things), a button down shirt, a J.Crew argyle v-neck sweater, and of course my high-class super-fashionable trusty New Balance sneakers (okay, I’ll admit to owning in multiple colors so they match whatever I’m wearing but still, I just wear sneakers every day) – has made me among the elite well-dressed of the medical center research building? Oh, and let’s not forget the best part – the lab coat and purple nitrile gloves! I know, so hot! I feel like I need to start doing something to maintain this title – like matching my lab powerpoint presentations to what I am wearing!

Friday evening I attended the Jewish Medical Student Association Shabbat services, and I was the only biomedical graduate student in attendance. When I introduced myself and what I was studying, there was a general attitude of impression, and one of the students even commented “Oh wow, a real doctor” (funny, I always thought the M.D.’s were the real doctors). It made me start to wonder when in the medical school process students go from thinking PhDs are smart and impressive to thinking they are the unintelligent who secretly wanted to go to medical school. I happen to have met quite a few of the medical students, and all of them have been impressed that I am going for a PhD and tend to think that it is a more difficult process than medical school, but almost all of the doctors I have encountered, including those at this university (see Big Pimpin’) tend to look down on researchers (except, of course, those M.D.’s who are doing research themselves). I wonder when this attitude change occurs – anyone looking for a sociology project?

And on that note, I’m off to study for Thursday’s biostatistics exam, or do something else totally important, like figure out what I’ll be wearing next Monday so I can color coordinate my lab presentation PowerPoint slides. :oP

Fundless and Directorless

I’ve been meaning to share the latest news for a few days now, but just haven’t taken the time to sit down and think of how to phrase everything. I suppose now, while I sit in lab after finishing up experiments for the day with nothing to do until the Jewish Medical Student Association Shabbat in an hour and a half, would be the ideal time.

It’s been a tough week. After finishing up midterms last week, we were all looking forward to a nice, relaxing, exam-free week of classes and lab… and we’re still waiting for that relaxation part. As for me, personally, there have been a lot of negatives – both program related, personal related, and football related (Big Ben’s knee surgery means he is out for 1 – 3 games, and since we all know I bleed Steelers black and gold, it is sad, sad news indeed). But since this isn’t intended to be a place for my own personal or football related problems, we’ll stick with the program.

When I decided to start writing this blog, my original intention was to discuss all the ridiculous aspects of my graduate school experiences. This summer during my first rotation, I found myself in a slew of absurd situations that I wasn’t quite expecting in graduate school – be it the time the lab tech accidentally spilled my long-awaited buccal cell mouthwash samples all over me or the time the crazy lady in the elevator literally whacked me across the shins with her cane because I didn’t start off every morning in the chapel praying to Jesus for help with finding a cure for cancer (yes, that really did happen), or the day I was so focused on troubleshooting my non-working PCR that I obliviously stepped onto the elevator without realizing that it was actually a foot and a half below the normal level, causing me to fall completely sprawled out into the elevator in front of a chuckling audience of rather attractive oncology residents. I guess the way I saw it was that if so much happened in just a summer, then imagine the possibilities over the next seven years, and if I was going to suffer through these situations for the next too many years to come, then someone (i.e., you) should at least get some entertainment and laughs out of my misery and humiliation.

Sometimes, however, things that go wrong are completely and totally outside of your control. Sometimes, it’s not just accidentally using 1M hydrochloric acid instead of 1N (oops – I learned my lesson). This week has had an unanticipated seriousness and graveness to it, first with the announcement that the proposed $100 million cut to cancer research funding is official, and second with the official news that the head of our cancer center is leaving. The funding cut is just terrible news for the field as a whole, as investigators are already scrambling to try to obtain grant money, and now there is $100 million less to dish out for vital research. That, however, has been pushed aside by the more eminent news of the cancer center/chair of oncology’s decision to leave and move on elsewhere. The irony is that I interviewed at the school to which he will be going, and the program kept emphasizing how their cancer center was in the process of deciding between two top-quality well-known individuals to come take over the position of director. When I chose not to attend that university, I promptly forgot about the issue. Funny how the same issue is now coming back to haunt me. The loss of the director itself hardly impacts me – but the problem comes from the sudden rumors flying left and right through the program about the number of faculty who are already definitely or are attempting to follow the director to his new location (we can only hope that these are indeed only rumors, and are not all true). These investigators lead all the big-name, large-grant labs, and I cannot imagine what will happen to the program if they are all successful in their attempts to follow the director. While it may give an opportunity for smaller PI’s to move up the ladder, the actual number of labs will drastically decrease until a new director brings in his own researchers, but that process could take upwards of year to happen. Lab space is already hard to come by – I have been turned down by several PIs already in my attempts to rotate with them – and I can only assume that now it will be very challenging indeed to find someone with enough space to take me on a thesis student. This just adds in a whole new difficulty factor which I was not expecting to encounter during my attempts at a PhD. There are a lot of questions now and while we all continue to study diligently for our classes and focus on our lab work, deep down we are all questioning what will happen to us and our program over the coming months.

Biochemistry Exam: 1 -- Julie: 0

Phew. It’s over. That’s all that can be said about last week. I apologize for the lack of posting, but those pesky exams just got in the way. Because not too many interesting things happen when you’re holed up in the library all day, I thought I would post a few statistics from last week. Keep in mind that last week was the fifth week in a row in which I had an exam, and it was the worst week by far – exam in methods and midterm in biochemistry, but to be completely cruel, the biochem exam was split up over multiple days, so after taking a completely taxing and mind-numbing exam, we all headed straight back to the library to study for the other parts. Definitely not a fan.

All numbers are for the five days from Sunday evening (10/23) through Friday afternoon (10/28):

• hours spent studying in the library: 29
• hours spent studying in apartment: 31
• hours of sleep: 18 hours in own bed; 0.5 hours during oncology grand rounds (oops)
• ounces of diet coke consumed: 124 (significantly less than others in the program)
• number of medical students who encountered my stressed-out wrath when loudly discussing their whorish sex life in the middle of the library while I was trying to study enzyme catalysis: 1
• number of other students who yelled ‘thank you’ across the library when I bitched out the medical student and told her to take her social life elsewhere: 6 verbal thank yous, a few others just applauded
• times chapter on enzyme catalysis was read before I possibly understood a single mechanism: 7
• number of times I muttered “I should have gone to medical school”: 394
• number of times I was jealous of all my friends in the working world: 23
• number of times I kicked myself for not using my BA in Political Science to get a normal job on the Hill: 7
• number of times I contemplated getting appropriate paperwork to drop out: 4
• scary dreams about protein attacks: 1
• number of times I spent calculating exactly how poorly I could do on the biochemistry exam and still have a 3.5 at the end of 2 years of classes: 4
• number of minutes wasted calculating minimum grade which could have been spent studying: 30
• tears shed over biochemistry: surprisingly 0 (that will likely change once the exam is handed back)
• number of times best friend stated he was worried about the state of my mental health: 2
• mornings I contemplated just sleeping through that day’s exam since I was just going to fail it anyway: 4
• number of bags under eyes by Friday morning: 3
• glasses of beer it took at happy hour with fellow students to get me a little overtalkative and tipsy following 18.5 hours of sleep over the past 5 days and consuming only ¼ of a bagel and ½ a peanut butter sandwich in past 24 hours: 3 (so pathetic)

So, you may wonder, what does a PhD student do to celebrate the weekend after the end of midterms? Spent the Halloween weekend dressed up as something completely non-science related stumbling from bar to bar all night and lying in bed with a horrendous hangover all day? Not quite. Catches up on all those hours of lost sleep? I wish (I have lost the ability to sleep in, and was up by 7:30 on Saturday morning after a mere 6.5 hours of sleep -- so disappointing). No, no, instead, the PhD student works on biostatistics problems (exam coming up in 11 days), spends weekend time in the lab running assays, works on a PowerPoint presentation for an upcoming lab meeting, and catches up on transformed cell reading which was ignored over the past week. Thus is the life of a graduate biomedical slave.

Great things come in express mail packages

In case you didn’t already realize that I am the hugest nerd ever, I figured I would just provide a little story to cement that opinion. It’s been a pretty stressful week over here in PhD-land, and next week will surely be worse, mostly filled with studying, so my apologies for the lack of humiliatingly interesting lab stories which I was full of this summer – after this round of exams, I will be spending even more time in lab (is that possible?!) so I’m sure there will be more to report. I’m sure things will have a much more humorous twist once exams are through and I stop being so ridiculously stressed out all the time. Regardless, after a long day in lab and class on Wednesday, I returned back to my apartment and immediately retreated into my room and settled down at my desk for several hours of studying for the oncology exam. My roommate knocked on the door, and asked if I saw the package from Mark that had arrived for me. I immediately jumped up, ran over to pick it up, practically bouncing off the walls – totally ecstatic. You, like my roommate, are probably wondering what kind of fabulous object was waiting for me inside the very large envelope. It was no surprise – I knew exactly what it was – which was why I was indeed so excited. Some kind of fabulous gift to brighten my stressful week? Something extra-special that only my very best friend would know to send? Something even better – Lehninger Principles of Biochemistry!! Yes, I did get this excited over a textbook. A biochemistry textbook, none-the-less. The textbook which we use for our biochemistry class, Voet and Voet’s ­Biochemistry is very hard to understand, and everyone in class who took biochemistry previously (which is everyone in the class except me and one other TBio student) had used Lehninger undergrad and kept talking about how much better it was at explaining the basics and was an excellent supplement to our textbook. Well, having used Lehninger as an undergrad, said best friend already had the book lying around, and mailed it to me, potentially saving my biochemistry grade and exponentially increasing my comprehension of biochemistry (thanks again, Mark!! You’re the greatest!). Truly, I don’t think I’ve ever been that excited to receive something in the mail – like I said, I am definitely the hugest nerd ever.

In other news, I have decided that I should have gone to medical school, because the activities are much more fun. Last night, a typical Friday night for me, I was slaving away in the lab when all of a sudden, ‘80s music was blasting in surround sound. What the heck is going on? Finally I realize that it is the first and second year medical student annual powder puff football game, and it is time for the M08 and M09 pep rally, at which extraordinarily loud ‘80s music is apparently required. After finishing up in lab, I moved to the library to work on the changes to the paper I co-authored on breast cancer and alcohol which had come back from the journal with reviews, and sitting in the nearly-deserted library (the only other individuals in the entire library were two of the masters’ students in my program, studying diligently for biochemistry), and all I could hear were the cheering medical students outside. Upon wandering out to visit a few of the medical students at the end of the game, I found myself wondering yet again what I thought would be so appealing about the PhD process. If I ever come up with a good answer, I’ll be sure to let you know.

Among other useless facts, I actually learned something interesting in biochemistry yesterday. Our professor was saying how 20 or so years ago, he was at a biochemistry conference in Kansas City, and there was a ‘punked out’ graduate student presenting his poster. He stopped to talk to the graduate student, and was then invited to listen to the graduate student’s band play in town that evening. He went to listen to the small, still pretty much unknown group – Offspring. So something else to file away with all those other strange-but-true facts – Dexter Holland, the lead singer of Offspring, has a PhD in molecular biology.

Big Pimpin'

Today in the clinical cancer center, I got pimped. Or, I suppose more like – I became a participant in the pimping process. I know you’re all thinking, “But Julie, why is that worthy of writing about? How is that any different from your normal activities?” Alas, that certainly is the crowd I roll with on the weekends (as long as my biochemistry homework is finished!) but this is a very different kind of pimping than the aforementioned recreational activity. Medical pimping involves the process of doctors publicly belittling medical students, proving that they know nothing and are in no way qualified to be a doctor.

While waiting for the elevator today in the cancer center, Big Pompous Oncologist, M.D., was pimping his third or fourth-year students completing a rotation, asking them about the genetic cause of chronic myeloid leukemia. The medical students stood around, looking at the floor, while Big Pompous Oncologist went on a rant about how unprepared they are to enter the medical profession, and he would never want them as his doctor. Finally, he just yelled in the forum “Christ, Doesn’t ANYONE know what causes CML?” Standing in my corner awaiting the elevator, I muttered under my breath, “a t(9:22)(q34;q11) translocation”. Either Big Pompous Oncologist has super-hearing abilities, or I need to work on muttering under my breath less distinctively, because apparently, he heard me. “Thank god there’s intelligence somewhere in this hospital,” he replied. “How about you say it loud enough so maybe these students can learn something? Or are you just trying to make yourself feel smarter through your unwillingness to share your knowledge with others?” Ouch!

“A chromosomal translocation between 9 and 22, q34 to q11,” I state louder and more confidently. The medical students all had the collective “Ooooh” moment, like the knowledge all just flooded back into their brains. Big Pompous Oncologist wanted mechanisms as well, asking, “What in the translocation process causes CML?” No response from the med students. I hope none of them plan on going into oncology – it’s not like CML is some rare form like hairy cell leukemia that they wouldn’t expect to see in patients. Before being accused of trying to hoard knowledge again, I spoke up. “The translocation results in the Philadelphia chromosome, creating a fusion protein BCR-ABL, in which part of the gene BCR from chromosome 22 becomes fused with the c-ABL on chromosome 5. The BCR-ABL protein is controlled by the BCR promoter, which is constituatively active, creating a problem because ABL is a tyrosine kinase, therefore increasing proliferation and protecting the cell from apoptosis.” Next Big Pompous Oncologist asked about treatment, and finally one of the medical students spoke up, identifying Gleevec as the targeted therapy of choice, but not knowing how it works, once again leaving me to reply how imatinib mesylate blocks the active site of ABL, preventing ATP biding and thereby preventing ABL from phosphorylating.

After belittling his medical students a little more, Big Pompous Oncologist asked what year I was. When I replied that I was a first year PhD, he looked appalled. At that precise moment, the extraordinarily slow elevator finally arrived and I stepped on, just in time to hear Big Pompous Oncologist turn to his medical students and say in disgust: “A first year PhD student knows more than you. A PhD student! Someone who wasn’t able to get into medical school in the first place is now more competent than you. You should be ashamed of yourself; you’re more intelligent than her.” It’s a good thing for my future career that the elevator doors were already closing, because I surely would have punched him in the face. All the PhD students in my program are there by choice because we are committed to research, not because we didn’t get into med school, and I think we are every bit as intelligent as medical students. Like I said, it’s a good thing the elevator was there, because I’m fairly sure that I would have been kicked out of the program for punching him in the face – I don’t think I’m pimptastic enough to get away with something like that.

Nose to the Grindstone

Before I go on my latest disgruntled rant, I’d like to clarify that I really do, deep down, enjoy research and what I am doing. Obviously, I knew (to some extent) what I was getting into by going into a biomedical PhD program. I wouldn’t have taken this path if I wasn’t passionate about my research or if I couldn’t picture myself doing this (with some degree of happiness) for the next forty years of my life (okay, well not THIS, hopefully after several years of a post-doc and then working diligently as an Assistant PI, I will eventually actually get to be a PI and boss around grad students and post-docs of my own). Granted, if you catch me running around the medical center on a typical afternoon trying to do 12 things at once and ask me why I decided to choose the PhD path of life, I will more likely than not answer with something along the lines of, “Because I’m really, really stupid.” But sarcasm aside, I do realize how lucky I am do actually be doing what it was I decided I wanted to do as an undergrad. I was fortunate enough to be accepted to every graduate school to which I applied except one (and that was an entirely disastrous interview day) and had a really tough time deciding between my top two choices. Eventually the decision was made by a coin-toss by my best friend Mark (who also happens to do a lot of reffing in his spare time, thereby making him a coin-tossing professional) and the decision was made (you think I’m joking… but I’m not). Basically, what I’m trying to say is that I do realize how lucky I am to be in my program, and I do ‘enjoy’ parts of it (as much as one can enjoy being an indentured servant of the lab), but being happy to be in a program certainly doesn’t reduce the stress.

That said, I realize that stress is a normal part of every PhD program, particularly those in the sciences, and that it’s basically the weeding-out factor – there are those individuals who can deal with the stress and, provided they do well academically and happen to be competent in the lab and can prove something useful, will get their PhDs. And then there are those who cannot handle the stress, and they are the ones who drop out. I like to think that I will fall into the former category, but I think right now it’s hard enough to focus on getting through the week, let along surviving through six years of this!

Things just keep piling up and it’s reached the point where I don’t even know what should be my focus anymore. As an undergraduate, it was easy. I double majored in biology and political science, minored in math, and was one quantitative analysis class short away from a chemistry minor. On weeks where I was overloaded with work, it was easy to prioritize – I knew I wanted to go into science, so the biology and chemistry classes always came first, and if it meant that I had to half-ass a poly sci paper or not study as much as necessary for a differential equations exam, so be it. But in grad school, everything is important, and everyone tries to convince you that their part is the most important. Is it more important to study for the upcoming Transformed Cell exam or the Biochemistry exam? And what about the Methods exam? Do I put lab work before classes or vice-versa? And as if classes and one lab rotation wasn’t enough, I still have my summer rotation back to haunt me and take up more of my time. The review paper on breast cancer and alcohol epidemiology, on which I am second author, came back from the journal with reviewing comments, and requires a bit of rewriting, by ­Friday. Somehow, I am supposed to fully prepare for three upcoming exams, work diligently in my current lab and be doing background research on why the assay results are turning out the way they are, and continue editing this paper from the summer. I’m not really sure that it’s possible, without the addition of more hours in the day (although I suppose not writing this and getting back to biochem studying would be a step in the right direction).

On that note, I have used up my allotted 30 minutes of non-science time for the day, and must get back to work. And of course, I would like to wish everyone a Happy National Chemistry Week, direct to you from everybody’s favorite disgruntled biomedical graduate student.

"Remember when...?"

It seems pathetic that at 22 years of age, I am starting sentences with “Remember back in the good old days when…”. I’m supposed to have my first job out of college now, slaving away in some menial position all day and living for the weekends, making just enough money to cover rent, food, and the weekend bar bill.

Friday afternoon, sitting in the oncology seminar surrounded by the three other first year PhD girls, I casually asked what everyone’s plans were for the weekend. The resounding answer: studying. We are approaching our third consecutive week with an exam, and every spare moment in which we are not in lab or class is dedicated to reading the 3,000+ page Cancer: Principles and Practice of Oncology book and studying for our Cellular and Molecular Aspects of the Transformed Cell exam. “Remember when we used to go out on Friday nights?,” reminisced one. “I remember the good old days of not coming home until 2am on Thursday nights,” I chimed in, and was met with “Thursday nights we used to stay out until 3, Fridays until 4, and Saturdays I wouldn’t stumble home until 5.” While I can’t say my average weekend was ever quite that intense, I had quite a lot of late nights out, especially junior year (or late nights in at other people’s apartments, as the case often was, since all my friends were seniors and 22 by then, and I was still the little 20 year old without a fake ID who couldn’t go out). Weekends used to be – dare I say it – fun. Sure, I would get up early the next morning to study and be exhausted, but it was worth it. What happened to the good old days?

Sunday morning I found myself in a position similar to the average Sunday back at GW. Alarm going off at 7am, groggily dragging myself out of bed, dark circles under the eyes after a mere 5 hours of sleep. The difference, however – the lack of a good story from the night before. Sure, I went out Saturday night – and by going out, I mean leaving the apartment for an 8pm trip to Safeway to buy groceries for the week. With the exception of the Safeway trip, the entire evening was spent sitting at my desk studying, reading chapter after chapter on chromosome translocations, epidemiology and etiology of cancer, multitudes of proposed apoptosis pathways, etc. Somewhere around 11pm, I hit that mental saturation point and needed a break, so being the obsessed neat-freak that I am, spent an hour vacuuming and scrubbing clean the kitchen and bathroom, and was back to studying from midnight until a little after two. When the old man moved into the apartment next door and realized he was living next to two early-20s girls, he probably expected loud noise on the weekends. What he probably didn’t expect was for the loud noise to come from a vacuum cleaner, but he probably also didn’t see me walking into the apartment wearing my massive backpack stuffed with biochemistry and immunology texts (before you think I’m a total jerk, he is completely deaf without his hearing aids, so I figured if he was asleep with them out, he wouldn’t hear me vacuuming anyways, plus the walls here are really thick and despite being directly in the flight path to National, we can hardly hear the planes overhead).

And thus it was spent – another exciting weekend home alone, isolated in my room studying. Honestly, I don’t understand why they say that scientists are nerdy and anti-social. I think Einstein nailed it on the head when he said, “Science is a wonderful thing if one does not have to earn one's living at it.” And on that note, it’s back to studying and planning things out for the week in lab, with the occasional nostalgic daydream about the life which I once possessed.