I have a propensity to make silly mistakes (I have been told that it’s probably because I am always in a hurry), and I desperately wanted to do well in my return to tissue culture work.

So I made my media with no major hitches. I thawed my cells. I plated my cells, and I put them in the incubator.

It was quite satisfying and in my head I was like “Oh yes. I CAN do this. Boo-yah.”

And then came the e-mail.

Hi Lillian,

R found your plates in the incubator (#2) which has been disconnected.

She moved them to them to the top incubator.

I just about died.

It turns out that I did everything right EXCEPT put the cells in a functioning incubator.

Lesson Learned: Make sure the incubator is actually ON…

L: you would be a t cell

L: and i would be a b cell

J: haha

J: how do u figure that?

J: and which type of T cell?

L: i think you would be a ctl

L: you’re more combative

L: although i guess you could be a helper t cell

L: if you wanted to help the lillian b cell

J: don’t i have to give u cd40L

L: which the lillian b cell would greatly appreciate

L: but i feel like you would be unhappy

L: with just having a helper role

L: and would rather be a ctl

L: and go kill things on your own

L: and have other people help you

L: that seems much more your nature

L: well i guess if i were to put this another way…

L: if we were both t cells

L: you would be a ctl

L: and i would be the helper

L: -___-

J: haha

J: ur a dork

L: :(

L: but you’re not disagreeing with me

L: also

L: i resent that

L: you wouldnt give me cd40l?

J: i would

J: since im the t cell

J: and since u are the b cell u can’t do anything without me

J: u can’t isotype switch

J: u cant do affinity maturation

J: u need me to survive

L: i don’t need to isotype switch

L: :(

J: then all u can do is make crappy igm

L: it’s not crappy

L: :(

J: not the IGg ur capable of

J: man i am loving this analogy

L: haha who wants to be iGg anyway

L: IgG is overrated

J: who knew immuno could be so fun

L: now who’s the dork?

L: :)

At first, I sent an e-mail to my grad student telling him that I was ill with a fever and sore throat– possibly strep throat. I told him that I would not be going in to lab, but that perhaps in a few days I would feel better and pop in for work.

A couple days went by and I lost my voice, so I shot him another e-mail informing him of this new update to my disease.

I received no response regarding either e-mail.

So a week and a half went by without my talking to my grad student again. I slowly recovered from my illness until all that remained (and still remains) is an awfully annoying cough.

I had to go back to work, but I didn’t want to face him and have to explain my lengthy absence…. I was SCARED.

Yesterday was my first day back after a two week sick-leave (I know… super long sick-leave), but it wasn’t as bad as I had expected it to be. People actually miss me when I’m gone… or at least they notice when I’m gone! It’s kind of exciting– kind of like validation.

But yes, I am back in lab. In fact, I am in lab right now… and it is 9:10 pm.

Welcome back indeed.

There are corridors popping out from every corner and every side, and the hallways go on for miles. It doesn’t help that the building is not as bustling as it used to be, thanks to many labs migrating to newer buildings.

Even though you need to have card access to enter the building past 7pm, and I’m sitting in my locked lab, I am still scared. I hate leaving the sanctity of my lab… even if it’s just to run across the hall to the tissue culture room, or a couple of doors down the cold room or the bathroom.

Being in lab at night by myself is so lonely. I want to talk to people and laugh and be happy while I do my experiments… not sad and scared.

But what can you do? A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

And this girl has to do science. At night. All alone…

The first step to focusing would probably be… not blogging right now.

I cannot list the number of times I have messed up this current experiment. All these little things– they add up.

What am I doing? I’m working on some IHC stuff for my/my graduate student’s project. Because my graduate student doesn’t specialize in IHC, he recommended that I learn some stuff from a different graduate student in the lab, G. G is really good at IHC stuff, so he’s been helping me, and I’ve been helping him.

But oh, it really sucks when other people find out how much of a failure you are.

I’m pretty sure G thinks I’m a pretty big goofball because I’ve messed up this experiment so many times. Oh so many times…

I’ve had to entirely scrap this current IHC project and had to start over with an entirely new set of slides. It’s a good thing M (my grad student) gave me a whole set of slides to test out different conditions with.

I wish that I was more competent. :(

G has been laughing at me, but he does know that I feel bad. Still, it hurts when he says things like, “Well, at least you’re not my student…” This is my first time working with this new IHC protocol on my own, so I guess it’s “ok” for me to mess up, but at the same time, it would be such a nice feeling to do something right on the first try…

It is true, I have been neglecting my research. It’s not because I am purposefully doing such a thing. I just have become busy with other things, and as a result, have been forced to put research on the back burner. Not for nothing would I sacrifice my research, mind you, so this “thing” that has usurped the place of research in my life is awfully important to me.

In a couple of weeks though, order will have been restored to my life, and my research will be rightfully appointed “king of Lillian’s humble existence” once more.

It took me a while to realize that my golden goose was running away: a few bitter glances and remarks from my graduate student– those stung, they really did. My graduate student has been nothing but supportive of me, and it really hurt to see that he was starting to lose respect for me because I wasn’t pulling my weight in the lab.

At first it was flattering to realize that my presence was missed in the lab. People remarked on it– “where have you been Lillian?”, “Haven’t seen you around? I thought you lived in lab!” But I realize that it is not for nothing that I garnered that reputation.

One of my friends, my occasional “life and career counselor”, has told me on a number occasions, “you know that research is your “thing” right? Don’t forget that.” He tells me this when he can sense that I am losing track of what I’m doing– when I try to take on too much or try to do everything.

He put me in that box, and I resented it.

I hate labels.

But deep down, I know that it’s true. And I know that it’s true now, more than ever. Research has given me everything. It has brought me success, friends, money, and perhaps even a little bit of fame. At my university, I feel “special” because of my research. Without that… I feel wholly “normal”.

I hate feeling normal. I hate feeling normal more than I hate labels.

Research is my thing. Ok, I get it. I am the research girl. I have other interests of course, but research is my golden goose.

Don’t kill your golden goose, Lillian.

This particular faculty member is someone whom I greatly respect. I heard wonderful things about her long before meeting her, and she has really lived up to those expectations. Not only is she brilliant and a great researcher, but she is an excellent mentor as well. Let us call her Dr. A.

Before I left her office today, Dr. A told me that I should pay attention to my laser pointing techniques.

What? Laser pointing techniques? That even exists? Was this some weird research jedi training thing that I had never heard about before?

What’s funny though, is that after she explained to me what she meant, it made perfect sense.

She said that the point of a laser pointer (har har) was not to randomly wave it about or draw circles around everything or underline ever word as you read it or point to every single thing that you were talking about. It was to emphasize your main points and really hone in on what you were talking about. The audience is naturally drawn towards the little red, green, or heaven forbid, blue dot on the screen, and if you’re wildly gesturing around your slides, they’re going to get lost.

Her main piece of advice: Take control of the laser pointer.

It’s ok to not use it very much. Just because you have a laser pointer in your hand, doesn’t mean it has to be on all the time. If you have the discretion to know when to use it, and when to put it away, it will do so much more for your talk, and oftentimes, that can be the tiny difference that makes one talk better than another. Use the laser pointer to guide your audience– to tell your story– don’t use it to guide you.

I’ve given close to ten big presentations that have required the use of a laser pointer, and I know that I am one to just use the laser pointer to point at EVERY THING. For me, I think it’s a coping mechanism for nerves– I just point to things on the slide to feel like I am doing something. It’s something that I will make an effort to work on, now that I know that this problem exists. (It’s like the time my grad student told me that I said “um” too much during presentations. I wasn’t even aware of it until he told me about it, so now I make a conscious effort not to say “um” as much. He says I’m getting better. Yay!)

So today is Day 1 of my laser pointer training. I guess it’s considered Day 1 because it’s the first day that I’ve realized that there is such a thing as “laser pointer technique”.

Dr. A told me that there are some people who have bad laser pointing techniques and still have successful careers, but the purpose of our program is training.

So laser pointer training it is.

It’s kind of a nice feeling– this being missed thing. But it also speaks to how much time I spend in my dear laboratory. I usually respond to these inquiries with, “Oh you know, I’ve been busy. I have lots of class. Lots of studying, etc etc etc.” One graduate student told me that he was just asking because he hadn’t seen me around as much and he thought that… you know, I spent all my time in lab.

Ah well, I guess it’s nice to know that when I do finally leave lab… I shall be missed. :)

I, Lillian, am now the proud owner of a subscription to Science Magazine.

YES. My first journal subscription!

And yet-- and yet... curiouser and curiouser!

Sometimes, when I talk to people about science, I wonder how much they really care.

I’m not saying that all undergraduates in research are like this– by all means, no no no!– but there are a significant number of undergrads out there who are doing research because they feel compelled to. Not because they want to.

And therein lies the rub…

For many undergraduates, research is a chore– a job– a task. It’s not something you would choose to do given a number of more appealing “fun” options. It’s not something you lie awake at night dreaming about. It’s not something you love. Many people do research because it is something to do, “it will look good to admissions committees”– because someone else put that idea in their heads.

I feel that I can say this based on the observations I have made about the undergraduates I see around me, but I could be completely wrong.

I’m not saying that I am amazing and that I love research more than any other undergrad out there.

Research is tough. This much cannot be denied.

I look around me at the graduate students and post-docs in my lab, and I see how hard they work, and how frustrated and disheartened they can get. For them, research is their lives– it’s not a hobby. It’s not something they can pick up and if it works, oh that’s great, they can get a publication, and if it doesn’t work, oh it doesn’t matter, they can throw it away. Their livelihoods, and consequently their happiness, depend on their research.

Even after working in my lab for over two and a half years now, I don’t think that I have experienced enough of the research life to be able to say that, yes, I know what it’s like. Because I don’t.

I am a student first and foremost. I do not do research full time. There is no way that I can compare myself to a graduate student and what they go through.

But I feel like I have taken the plunge– that extra step that so many are afraid to take.

I have gone down the rabbit hole, and though I don’t entirely know what I’ve gotten myself into, I know that it gets curiouser and curiouser as I venture in more deeply.

Science rocks my socks, and I am not afraid to say it. I am just wary of the day when I wake up, and I will be tired of it. Because everyone warns me that that day will come.

And I almost wish I hadn’t gone down that rabbit hole.

Almost. But not quite. :)