I don't know if I want to continue with this blog in its current format. The original purpose of the blog was to provide a way for my mates back in Sydney to see what I've been up to in Boston. However, email, Facebook and Skype have made this blog largely redundant. Plus let's face it, no-one really gives a shit about my inane ramblings, and frankly, keeping a blog takes a crap-load of effort which I'm no longer willing to give. Yes I'm lazy.
I must admit I've enjoyed writing for this blog, it's a nice outlet and a pleasant change from the tedious scientific writing that I'm usually obligated to produce. Posting stuff online has also been strangely cathartic and personally liberating in a way, but whether I want to continue doing so is another matter. Plus I've got a shitload of other priorities than making sure my blog is up to date.
I do have a few posts that I've drafted which I will post in the future and I think I'll post randomly as the mood strikes, but I think posting regularly about my life in Boston is going to stop. So expect a bit of a change at +61.
29 July 2007
25 July 2007
Which one is....?
I've been meaning to update the blog with another fabulously witty and incisive post about my life, but I've been too lazy, un-witty and preoccupied with other stuff at the moment. So here's a pic a friend sent to me the other week. The photo is doing the email circuit I'm sure, but the more I study the faces of the guys in the photo the more hilarious it is, so I felt compelled to share (the joke is more striking if you click for the enlarged image and study the faces). Enjoy.
Which one is.....?
Which one is.....?
19 July 2007
Thesis: the final PhD hurdle
My mate Entrepreneur submitted his PhD thesis a few months ago and is waiting to hear from his reviewers, I'm sure it'll get passed without too much fuss, good luck mate! When most people see the title Doctor, they immediately think of medical doctors (commonly called MDs in the States), dentists or veterninary doctors, and not PhD's. For some reason "MD" makes me think of the 80's sitcom Doogie Howser MD. Incidentally, Neil Patrick Harris who played the young doctor came out of the closet not too long ago.
PhD stands for Doctor of Philosophy, but it doesn't mean that someone with a PhD studied Philosophy. The origins of the PhD can be found here in Wikipedia but basically in medical research, having a PhD is necessary for a scientist who wants to eventually direct their own research group, whether it's in academia (university positions) or industry (e.g. pharmaceutical companies).
For my PhD, I spent 3 and 1/2 years 'on the bench' doing labwork and 6 months writing up what I had discovered in a thesis. The thesis was subsequently marked by 3 reviewers (from the US, Canada and England), who were scientists with expertise in my field of research.
It's actually rare that a thesis will be passed outright. Typically, a good thesis will get passed subject to minor revisions that are recommended by the reviewers. These revisions range from typo corrections, to suggestions about additional points that should be discussed or that need further clarification. But basically, if the reviewers suggest a 'pass with minor revisions' the PhD will be awarded, provided you complete the revisions of course.
What I got back from my reviewers were 2-4 pages of corrections and critique of each chapter (6 chapters in total) of the thesis. Thankfully, my thesis fell into the 'minor revisions' category. The format of the review is usually a brief summary of the markers interpretation of the chapter content, with some general comments, followed by a list of specific comments.
For example, this is a snippet of one reviewers general comments on my introduction "This is an extensive summary, covering all pertinent points and critically addressing discrepancies in the literature. Furthermore, the candidate identifies gaps in the literature....[and] the introduction demonstrates that the candidate is capable of critical thinking and the project addresses an important new problem." Sweet!
An example of a specific comment is "Page 77, Figure 3.8: How long were cells stimulated for in these experiments?"
So after correcting and addressing the reviewers concerns, I reprinted 4 copies of my 184 page thesis (even though I added some sentences to the revised version, somehow my corrected thesis was 10 pages shorter than the submitted version...?) got it properly bound in hard cover and dropped it off to the postgraduate coordinator, who assessed the changes and gave a recommendation to the postgraduate committee that I should be allowed to graduate. That was it. Four years of postgraduate study, on the back of 4 years undergraduate study, including an Honours year (with a shorter Honours thesis) had come to an end.
So was it worth slaving away in the lab, long hours, working a shit load of weekends and public holidays, stressing over the possibility of running out of funding/time, fearing yearly presentations to the entire Institute where I worked, living off a crappy PhD scholarship (while my mates are buying cars and houses) for almost 4 years?
I'd like to say yes, and don't get me wrong, I was bloody overjoyed to finally get my PhD, but ultimately, when I think about how painful an experience it was, all I have to say is that I really like the colour of my thesis. It's bound in an awesome shade of blue.
PhD stands for Doctor of Philosophy, but it doesn't mean that someone with a PhD studied Philosophy. The origins of the PhD can be found here in Wikipedia but basically in medical research, having a PhD is necessary for a scientist who wants to eventually direct their own research group, whether it's in academia (university positions) or industry (e.g. pharmaceutical companies).
For my PhD, I spent 3 and 1/2 years 'on the bench' doing labwork and 6 months writing up what I had discovered in a thesis. The thesis was subsequently marked by 3 reviewers (from the US, Canada and England), who were scientists with expertise in my field of research.
It's actually rare that a thesis will be passed outright. Typically, a good thesis will get passed subject to minor revisions that are recommended by the reviewers. These revisions range from typo corrections, to suggestions about additional points that should be discussed or that need further clarification. But basically, if the reviewers suggest a 'pass with minor revisions' the PhD will be awarded, provided you complete the revisions of course.
What I got back from my reviewers were 2-4 pages of corrections and critique of each chapter (6 chapters in total) of the thesis. Thankfully, my thesis fell into the 'minor revisions' category. The format of the review is usually a brief summary of the markers interpretation of the chapter content, with some general comments, followed by a list of specific comments.
For example, this is a snippet of one reviewers general comments on my introduction "This is an extensive summary, covering all pertinent points and critically addressing discrepancies in the literature. Furthermore, the candidate identifies gaps in the literature....[and] the introduction demonstrates that the candidate is capable of critical thinking and the project addresses an important new problem." Sweet!
An example of a specific comment is "Page 77, Figure 3.8: How long were cells stimulated for in these experiments?"
So after correcting and addressing the reviewers concerns, I reprinted 4 copies of my 184 page thesis (even though I added some sentences to the revised version, somehow my corrected thesis was 10 pages shorter than the submitted version...?) got it properly bound in hard cover and dropped it off to the postgraduate coordinator, who assessed the changes and gave a recommendation to the postgraduate committee that I should be allowed to graduate. That was it. Four years of postgraduate study, on the back of 4 years undergraduate study, including an Honours year (with a shorter Honours thesis) had come to an end.
So was it worth slaving away in the lab, long hours, working a shit load of weekends and public holidays, stressing over the possibility of running out of funding/time, fearing yearly presentations to the entire Institute where I worked, living off a crappy PhD scholarship (while my mates are buying cars and houses) for almost 4 years?
I'd like to say yes, and don't get me wrong, I was bloody overjoyed to finally get my PhD, but ultimately, when I think about how painful an experience it was, all I have to say is that I really like the colour of my thesis. It's bound in an awesome shade of blue.
13 July 2007
Fuck I'm Old!
Has been a good night out, I've returned home after a few beers with work colleagues, with me celebrating another week without getting yelled at by the boss. I had my first lab meeting presentation this week and I didn't get a frown, destructive comment or confidence-crushing remark from the boss which was a relief, my talk actually went pretty well surprisingly. The fact that there were two potential new postdocs in the meeting might have had been a significant factor in my escape from a public flaming.
But man, tonight made me feel bloody old. So there we were, having beers, laughing and relaxing, when I look around the table and realise that I'm hanging out with Assistant Professors, Doctors and married couples with kids, mortgages and all manner of grown up responsibilities. It was about this time that I ordered another intoxicatingly tasty Lagunitas IPA Maximus (alcohol content 7.5%/bottle, woohoo!). Instead of the good old student days of having beers and bitching about our supervisors, there was a total reversal tonight, where talk revolved around our students (yes I'm helping to supervise a fairly lost summer student at the moment), and the difficulties of running your own lab.
Yeah so...um whatever, it's a pretty useless post, but I've had several beers so gimme a break! Right, all this despairing at how I am warrants another beer. And if you think that drinking alone is a sign of an alcoholic, well fucking hell, I'll drink to that.
But man, tonight made me feel bloody old. So there we were, having beers, laughing and relaxing, when I look around the table and realise that I'm hanging out with Assistant Professors, Doctors and married couples with kids, mortgages and all manner of grown up responsibilities. It was about this time that I ordered another intoxicatingly tasty Lagunitas IPA Maximus (alcohol content 7.5%/bottle, woohoo!). Instead of the good old student days of having beers and bitching about our supervisors, there was a total reversal tonight, where talk revolved around our students (yes I'm helping to supervise a fairly lost summer student at the moment), and the difficulties of running your own lab.
Yeah so...um whatever, it's a pretty useless post, but I've had several beers so gimme a break! Right, all this despairing at how I am warrants another beer. And if you think that drinking alone is a sign of an alcoholic, well fucking hell, I'll drink to that.
4 July 2007
Alarms
Every now and again, certain events trigger us to reassess the priorities and situation of our lives. Sometimes these events are cataclysmic (e.g. the loss of a loved one), but often, they are relatively minor occurrences, which serve as intermittent alarms to wake us from our day-to-day drudgery. I experienced one of these small jolts of reality last week. It came in the form of email and was from my good mate Ace. It reminded me of how much I value my friends and family, and has made my worries about having a hard-time dealing with my boss pale into a trivial annoyance in the grand scheme of things.
Ace is a police officer, and in short, he nearly died. I hope he doesn't mind, but here's a snippet of his story:
"I had a run in with a mentally ill male on Monday night. I was about 2 inches from being killed... he was armed with a massive meat cleaver which he swung at my face and neck with full force. Luckily I had taken a baton from the car on the way up to his unit*, which I used to deflect the blade".
(*unit is Aussiespeak for apartment)
It took several officers with a lot of capsicum spray to finally subdue the attacker and thankfully Ace survived the situation unharmed, but reading his words and realising the alternate outcomes of the situation made me feel sick and really homesick. We've been through so much together and I can't imagine not ever having the chance to give him a hug, share a beer, discuss cute boys passing by, or just chat and share our lives.
Ace and I shared the suffering of coming to terms with being gay, and I've always looked up to him and admired the way he dealt with the whole situation. Where I slipped into depression and senseless direction, he was positive, pro-active and infinitely braver than I in seeking to become a confident, well-adjusted gay man. I'm uncertain whether there is such a thing as 'destiny' in life, but it does feel that Ace and I were destined to meet at such a critical stage in our lives to share our experiences and support each other. The endless hours chatting about our future as gay men, how our friends would react with the news, and accepting that we were gay, seem so long ago. We have certainly seen less of each other and have drifted apart over the past few busy years, which makes me a little sad, but such is the evolution of friendship and I know that our history still binds us strongly.
It's Independence Day today in the States and I can hear the rumbling bass and sharp stabs of fireworks blasting loudly close by. The roars of fighter jets have also passed overhead tonight. The noise is at odds with the quiet rain pattering outside, and the explosions sound like a distant battle raging in the otherwise still night. I'm sitting alone in my apartment, the lights are off, Triple J radio is playing lightly from my laptop. I feel very much like a foreigner in this city tonight. I feel as if I have no right to celebrate with the rest of the population. For me, the night seems conducive to self-reflection. Thinking about one's life is futile and torturous at the best of times, but I often ponder about where and how my life has unfolded. I know I am bloody fortunate to have the opportunity to be here in Boston and Ace's story helped me remember this.
I've received a lot of much appreciated advice about my work situation since my last post and I've decided to stay in the short term and see how my project turns out. I might have already made one lousy choice in coming to Boston, so is staying here a bit longer the right choice? That's a question not worth stressing about, time will tell. Anyway, worrying about getting yelled at by the boss makes me laugh when compared to the worries about personal safety that Ace has to deal with.
Due to their inherent nature, many of the life alarms that forced me to revalue and appreciate my life have been horrible, I'm just glad that Ace's story was not in the cataclysmic category. But why wait for the next alarm to appreciate something in your life? Go and give your loved one a hug, your family a call, or arrange a catch up with a mate. Do whatever is uplifting for you. Life sucks too much to have to miss out on these simple pleasures.
"Think of all the beauty that's still left in and around you, and be happy." Anne Frank.
Ace is a police officer, and in short, he nearly died. I hope he doesn't mind, but here's a snippet of his story:
"I had a run in with a mentally ill male on Monday night. I was about 2 inches from being killed... he was armed with a massive meat cleaver which he swung at my face and neck with full force. Luckily I had taken a baton from the car on the way up to his unit*, which I used to deflect the blade".
(*unit is Aussiespeak for apartment)
It took several officers with a lot of capsicum spray to finally subdue the attacker and thankfully Ace survived the situation unharmed, but reading his words and realising the alternate outcomes of the situation made me feel sick and really homesick. We've been through so much together and I can't imagine not ever having the chance to give him a hug, share a beer, discuss cute boys passing by, or just chat and share our lives.
Ace and I shared the suffering of coming to terms with being gay, and I've always looked up to him and admired the way he dealt with the whole situation. Where I slipped into depression and senseless direction, he was positive, pro-active and infinitely braver than I in seeking to become a confident, well-adjusted gay man. I'm uncertain whether there is such a thing as 'destiny' in life, but it does feel that Ace and I were destined to meet at such a critical stage in our lives to share our experiences and support each other. The endless hours chatting about our future as gay men, how our friends would react with the news, and accepting that we were gay, seem so long ago. We have certainly seen less of each other and have drifted apart over the past few busy years, which makes me a little sad, but such is the evolution of friendship and I know that our history still binds us strongly.
It's Independence Day today in the States and I can hear the rumbling bass and sharp stabs of fireworks blasting loudly close by. The roars of fighter jets have also passed overhead tonight. The noise is at odds with the quiet rain pattering outside, and the explosions sound like a distant battle raging in the otherwise still night. I'm sitting alone in my apartment, the lights are off, Triple J radio is playing lightly from my laptop. I feel very much like a foreigner in this city tonight. I feel as if I have no right to celebrate with the rest of the population. For me, the night seems conducive to self-reflection. Thinking about one's life is futile and torturous at the best of times, but I often ponder about where and how my life has unfolded. I know I am bloody fortunate to have the opportunity to be here in Boston and Ace's story helped me remember this.
I've received a lot of much appreciated advice about my work situation since my last post and I've decided to stay in the short term and see how my project turns out. I might have already made one lousy choice in coming to Boston, so is staying here a bit longer the right choice? That's a question not worth stressing about, time will tell. Anyway, worrying about getting yelled at by the boss makes me laugh when compared to the worries about personal safety that Ace has to deal with.
Due to their inherent nature, many of the life alarms that forced me to revalue and appreciate my life have been horrible, I'm just glad that Ace's story was not in the cataclysmic category. But why wait for the next alarm to appreciate something in your life? Go and give your loved one a hug, your family a call, or arrange a catch up with a mate. Do whatever is uplifting for you. Life sucks too much to have to miss out on these simple pleasures.
"Think of all the beauty that's still left in and around you, and be happy." Anne Frank.
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