On the Market: Fumbling Towards Tenure Track

Moving Day (for the blog)

2010-12-17T09:14:00.001-05:00

Hello, lovely readers. In case you haven't caught the news on twitter or LabSpaces, Fumbling Towards Tenure Track is moving, for real. Please come visit me in my new home, http://scientopia.org/blogs/drbecca

See you there!

11th hour pre-interview freak-out

2010-12-11T12:55:00.000-05:00

My first faculty interview is this week, and frankly, I'm losing my junk a little bit. I'm super excited and I'm sure it will be fun, but I'm also terrified of doing something horribly gauche, insulting someone, or looking stupid in general. I've been poring over the very excellent advice on such matters from Physioprof, DrDrA, and Gerty-Z (and their commenters), but I still have a bunch questions. Here they are, in no particular order:

1. Is it bad form to ask about the university city? I mean, everyone I'm talking to has chosen to live there, so would they be irked if I asked about quality of life/safety stuff?

2. I'm meeting the Dean. What does he want to talk about?

3. What do the students (grad) want to talk about?

4. Will people not take my relationship seriously because J and I are not married?

5. I'm doing a little reading about the research of each person on my itinerary, but will they expect me to be familiar with their work? How familiar?

6. What do I NEED to ask?

7. Anyone have any experience with those 5 hour energy shot thingies? Yay or Nay?

8. I seem to be coming down with a cold.

Hmm...there are probably more. I'll update as they occur to me. Any and all wisdom is much appreciated!

2010-11-09T16:19:00.000-05:00

Cross-posted from LabSpaces.

Wow, you guys. Just wow. In all my wildest dreams I never imagined this DonorsChoose.org campaign would be so successful! But after nearly a month, LabSpaces is in 4th place in the Science Bloggers for Students Challenge, and it's all because of you! Our pet project, "Oh! Rats!" got fully funded several weeks ago, which means that I'm delivering on my promise to you--an original cocktail inspired by and named after a donor who gave through my Giving Page, and a video of me making said cocktail.
The winner was chosen randomly by a party blind to the identity of those eligible, and then I experimented a bit until I felt I'd come up with a concoction that really channeled the spirit of this winner. The video was made this afternoon with the help of some lovely friends and several rounds of mimosas.
Now, please forgive the low sound quality, as we only had a regular camera's video recorder to work with, plus it was my first time editing a video of any kind, so some of the cuts may be, shall we say, less than smooth. Also there's sort of a gratuitous ass shot because I forgot to get a glass out before starting, but hopefully that won't be too painful. Oh and yes, there are costume changes. I couldn't help myself.
And now.....the DonorsChoose.org Cocktail Contest Winner!

Thanks again to everyone who donated! Cocktail or not, you all helped kids get a better education, and that is just awesome.

Bribing you for DonorsChoose.org!

2010-10-14T12:19:00.002-04:00

Hey there hangers-on to my blogger site! On the off chance you haven't heard, this month science bloggers across the world are participating in DonorsChoose.org, an amazing organization that helps kids in impoverished communities get much needed school supplies for their classrooms. It's called DonorsChoose because you, the donor, get to pick which project you'd like to help fund!

Because I really want a certain rat-focused project to get funded, I'm offering a little incentive to help motivate you to go to my Giving Page and help these kids. Below is a description, as I posted yesterday on my LabSpaces blog. Please give to Oh Rats!!

We're getting serious here, folks. The DonorsChoose.org Science Bloggers for Students Challenge is in full swing, and LabSpaces is on board, you know what I'm saying? So far, thirteen of us have set up Giving Pages, which you can view all together on our main page here.

While we're doing this as a collective and are of course happy as long as you donate at all, it's only natural that a little of that independent competitive spirit shows itself in situations like this. And so it should come as no surprise, then, that we've resorted to some...creative strategies. To be specific, we're bribing you.

Biochem Belle is offering a plush molecule to one lucky donor should her Giving Page reach $350. And every time her donations made through any LS blogger's page reach a multiple of $500, Disgruntled Julie will bake cookies for someone. Geeka will post an embarrassing picture of herself every time one of her projects gets funded. Gerty-Z will buy an overpriced mocha (but not syphilis) for a few random donors through her page regardless of total donations. And Tideliar, well...let's just say his bribe is that if you donate, he won't demonstrate his very scary Muy Thai skills.

So what do I have for you?

Well, there is only one other thing I geek out about besides science, and that thing is cocktails. May I introduce you to my home bar?

OK, here's the deal: one of my projects--which is on many of our Giving Pages--is called Oh Rats! and it's going to expire in 14 days. This project will help students learn about anatomy through hands-on experience--dissecting rats, of course! Now, within the genre of science I am a real anatomy nerd, so I am way into this project. As of tonight they're short almost $650, so they really need your help! What I am offering is this:

If Oh Rats! reaches its goal in time, I will create and name a cocktail in honor of someone who donates through my page. Can you imagine? Your very own cocktail! Not only that, but I will post a video of myself (neck down, I'm afraid--gotta maintain some semblance of pseudonymity) demonstrating how to make this cocktail, so you can all make it for yourselves at home. See? EVERYBODY WINS.

Awesome, right? I mean, who wouldn't want this? Please go help Mrs. T and the Oh Rats! gang! If you go through my Giving Page (see widget to your right), it's the 4th project. Thank you thank you thank you!!!

This one's for the ladies

2010-09-20T22:30:00.002-04:00

The ladies of twitter, that is!* I was chatting earlier this evening with the lovely @Geeka, @biochembelle, @Gerty-Z, @enniscath, @modernscientist, and @_modscientist_ (DIFFERENT PEOPLE!) about the beauty that is gin.

I love gin. Now, gin is not something whose taste appeals to everyone right away--it's somewhat acquired, and it needs to be done right. But when it is done right, it adds a dimension to cocktails to which no vodka could ever come close. With the obvious exception of the bloody mary, vodka does not touch Dr. Becca's lips. It does not please me.

Anyway, all that ginny tweeting made me thirsty, and so I decided to make one of my absolute favorite gin cocktails--the Archangel. Fittingly, the Archangel was invented by one of my favorite bartenders in all the city, Richie Boccato--formerly of Milk & Honey, currently proprietor of Dutch Kills and Painkiller. This man is quality through and through.

The Archangel is so elegant and so delicious, there is almost no pre-dinner cocktail I prefer. It is light and crisp and only a tiny bit sweet, and it only contains alcohol, so to those of you who are used to taking your gin with 3 parts tonic, watch out.

You will need the following:

a few slices of cucumber (seedless is best)
gin
Aperol
lemon twist

Aperol is an aperitif that's similar to Campari, but far less bitter and less alcoholic. It is a more delicate Campari, which is important since we're dealing with delicate flavors here. Some of you might scoff at my choice of gin here, but I actually like the taste of Beefeater better than that of Tanqueray and Bombay Sapphire--it's cleaner. Hendrick's is for special occasions and martinis only, until I am rich.

So. Take your pint glass and put the cucumbers in. Give them a couple of punches with a muddler or spoon, but don't pulverize them. You just want to...loosen them up a little. Put in a ton of ice, and then add 2.5 oz gin and 1 oz Aperol. There should be so much ice that it sticks up above the level of the liquid, comme ça:

I have no idea why this isn't centering like it's supposed to.

Stick in a long spoon, let it all sit for a minute, and then stir for at least another minute. OK, 30 seconds should be fine. You want it to be really cold, though!

Twist your lemon twist so that the oils start to ooze out of the skin. Drop it in the martini glass, and strain the contents of the pint glass on top of that. When you look closely, you should be able to see the lemon oil floating on the surface. Enjoy!!!

Oh, and feel free to munch on the gin-and-Aperol-soaked cucumbers from your pint glass. They're delicious!!

*This is also for Genomic Repairman, who had a shitty day.

Civic Duty, Shmivic Duty! (part 1)

2010-09-10T02:34:00.000-04:00

JURY DUTY. Is there anything more annoying, when taken out of context? I mean, I got stuff to do! Important experiments, etc!! I’ll be honest—when the summons arrived in my snail mail I was annoyed, but also a little curious, never having served before except for once in grad school where we were let go after lunch because there were no cases. Many of my friends in NY have been called for jury but only one has ever sat on a case, so I figured this would be an easy day of hanging out at the courthouse, after which I’d be let go, free of civic responsibilities for the next 8 years. I emailed my boss that I’d be missing lab meeting but would most likely be in the next day, and headed to downtown Brooklyn.

The jury holding area is like a giant airport terminal gate, but without the stinky airplane smell or screaming infants. Unlike an airport terminal, the wi-fi was free, so I popped open the MacBook and settled in for a little internetting. People were sleepy and disgruntled, so to pep us up we were shown an informative video about how awesome the jury system is. As I’m sure you’re all well aware, one effective technique in demonstrating a thing’s awesomeness is to contrast that thing with something that is not awesome. Accordingly, our video began with a re-enactment of trial-by-drowning.

I’m not even kidding—I’m sitting there at 8:30 in the morning watching actors dressed in rags, their faces all dirty and toothless and whatnot, drag another dirty, toothless, rag-dressed actor down to a lake, bind his hands and feet, and toss him in. Just how I like to start my day! Then there was a man-on-the-street sort of thing in which we heard sound bites from people who were all “Boo, I hate jury duty. Such a nuisance, why me, etc!” and then Diane Sawyer came on and explained why jury duty was so important, and then we had more man-on-the-street interviews with people who were really pleased about jury duty. It’s what makes America great, you see!

Several hours later, they started calling names for a case. My ears pricked up, my heart started pounding, and my internal monologue went something along the lines of don’tpickmedon’tpickmedon’tpickmedon’tpickme until I heard the dreaded words, “Dr Becca.” I let out an audible sigh, gathered my things, and joined the parade to the courtroom.

Inside, we were given the opportunity to ask the judge to be excused. Since I wasn’t smack dab in the middle of a big experiment, I didn’t feel right begging out, so I stayed seated. Out of about 50 of us, maybe 15 or so were excused from there. The rest of us were introduced to the attorneys and defendant, whom we learned was accused of a burglary. Criminal case FTW!! We then each had to answer a string of questions, which included “Have you or has anyone in your family been the victim of a crime?” “Are any of your relatives or close friends police officers?” and which ended with “are you capable of being an impartial juror?”

Ladies and Gentlemen of my readership, you would not believe what a bunch of WHINY-ASS BITCHES your fellow citizens are. I can’t even tell you how many people claimed not to be able to be impartial because their fucking iPod had been stolen from a bar or wherever in 2003. They sucked, and the judge looked like she saw right through their pansy lies, but there was nothing she could do. If you say you can’t be impartial, you’re excused, the end. Interestingly, the more I listened to everyone and their pathetic attempts to get out of jury duty, the more I felt compelled to actually do my duty.

And so when it was my turn, I responded with the honest truth about my crime-free and non-police-knowing existence (so sheltered!). Naturally, then, I made it to the top twenty-two. The attorneys then pressed us on some of our possible biases: Would any of us find it impossible to find a defendant guilty without DNA or fingerprint evidence? Do we think it’s possible for a police officer to lie on the stand? Do we think a police officer is more likely than other people to lie on the stand? There was amazingly someone who said no, they didn’t think it was possible for a police officer to lie, and I don’t think they were just saying it to get out, either. All kinds, I tell you!

After a quick break, we were called back in to hear the big news. Of the 22 of us remaining, only 9 were chosen for the jury, including…yours truly! Picky attorneys, man. Since they were 3 jurors + 3 alternates short, the trial wouldn’t start until the next afternoon, when they’d had a chance in the morning to select the rest of the group. Finally we were dismissed, and I walked home, thinking, well…I guess here we go!

Write place, wrong time*

2010-08-25T23:30:00.000-04:00

Already posted this over on LabSpaces, but y'all seem to keep stopping by here, so I'll oblige!

Yesterday was my first day back to the gym after my vacation, aka Lobster Week (like Shark Week, but with eating them!), and boy did it bring the pain. Not just because my Ass & Abs class (yes, it is actually called that) teacher is completely evil--it was so crowded! We were packed in like sardines and I had to use the yucky weights that make your hands smell all metally. Blech. As I was wondering why the class had seemingly doubled in size since the last time I was there, it hit me--the undergrads were back.

Now, don't get me wrong--undergrads are adorable. I hope to teach them someday! But what what their return signifies, other than the end of summer and less room to bust out my moves in hip-hop dance class, is the loss of my favorite writing spot. I wrote two grants and one paper this summer, and I did my best work in the evenings from a bustling coffee shop near one of New York's fine institutions. In the summer it's by no means empty--in fact, it's the quick pace and energy that I think keeps me alert and engaged with what I'm doing. But during the school year this place is an absolute zoo. People in every nook and cranny, on each other's laps, garbage piling up...we're talking fire code violations, here. And as a wise poet once said, I can't go for that (no can do).

Everyone has different environments in which they like to write. Some need complete isolation and quiet, so they lock themselves in their offices with some food rations, a gallon of coffee, and a roll of duct tape (hey, you never know), emerging a week later with a full beard and polished manuscript. Others might see writing as an opportunity to stay at home and not get dressed. Liberating, isn't it?

Well. I don't have an office. I have a desk in one of those giant lab spaces (hey!!!) with bay after bay of bench-desk combos. And while I love all the camaraderie and whatnot that goes along with being able to talk to my lab mates even if they are 25 feet away, I cannot get any real writing done there. It is impossible, because there is just too much ~~fun being had~~interactive science going on. I do sometimes work from home if I don't have anything I absolutely need to do in lab, but it's not always that productive--the cats are all over my papers, I get distracted by things that need cleaning, and I spend way too much time playing Are You Lunch?

I like coffee shops. I wrote my entire thesis in a coffee shop in my grad school town, and it was awesome. Every day for an entire month I did nothing but drink coffee, eat bagels and cookies (I have yet to meet the person whose thesis-writing experience was not a complete carb-fest), and write. When I go to a coffee shop to write, I am not distracted, because that's the coffee shop's sole purpose. Places like lab or my apartment have lots of other purposes, which makes it hard to focus. But when I'm in my favorite coffee shop, my brain is like, OK, this is why we're here, and I totally lock in.

Between job applications, another grant, and probably a paper revision (it's currently under review), I have lots of writing to do in the coming months. So I have to find a new favorite coffee shop, boo. You'd be surprised how hard it is in NYC to find the perfect combination of good coffee, free wi-fi, decent music, and ample tables for working, so if my readers have any suggestions, by all means hit those comments! In the meantime, I'm working from home today, and it's almost time for Are You Lunch?

*As you might imagine, I thought long and hard about which write/right pun I'd use for the title of this post. I could have gone with the obvious, "The Write Stuff," or "The Write Moves," or abandoned that and gone with a more highbrow reference to "A Room of One's Own." In the end, "Write place, wrong time" seemed to fit the best, as I'm discussing how it is the WRONG TIME of the year to WRITE in my favorite PLACE.

No crying in science, part 2

2010-08-10T16:50:00.000-04:00

OK, so obviously there is a lot of crying in science. It's just that whenever I try to come up with a title for a blog post all I can think of are pop culture references, and with "crying" as a theme it's either Tom Hanks' famous line from A League of Their Own--which I've never actually seen, but which is a sort-of reference itself, I think (though calling Virginia Woolf "pop culture" may be ill-advised)--or The Crying Game, so.

Where was I?

Oh yes, running out of my PI's office in tears. Now, there are some ladies out there who look really pretty when they're crying, like delicate, weeping flowers, but I am not one of those ladies. My eyes puff up like crazy and get thoroughly bloodshot--physiologic responses that take ages to restore themselves. If I were a damsel in distress, the knights would probably run away in disgust.

While I was waiting for the transformation back to recognizable human to occur, I emailed my graduate advisor; I was still too embarrassed to tell Famous Dude. I told her the long, sordid story, asking her advice on the whole situation. It was a rare feeling for me, but at that moment, I just wanted someone to tell me what to do.

My grad advisor is amazing. She got back to me in 20 minutes with names of people she knew who she thought might be good for a short post-doc, and lots of words of encouragement. And not warm squishy "poor baby" encouragement--she knows better than that. She wrote, "Inhibit that stress response and think of all the opportunities that interest you. [Learning] a new method could lead more easily to a job! Let me know what happens--DO NOT GIVE UP!!"

That helped, because my initial instinct was to write to Famous Dude something along the lines of, "I'm soooooooo sorry, but we didn't get the grant. If you think there's any way you could consider the possibility of maybe having me in the lab anyway, I would be eternally grateful!" Instead, I realized that I had to write to Famous Dude with confidence and with purpose, not humility and desperation. I said (and I'm paraphrasing, here), look, bad news re: the Foundation. But this is a good grant, and I think it could be re-purposed for this new R21 FOA I just read about. I want to write this grant with you as a co-investigator--I think we'd have a very good chance of getting funded. What do you say?

Famous Dude is not sure if he can support me without the Foundation money, and seemed perplexed by the comments from the Foundation review. One point of issue seemed to be that the Foundation wasn't clear on what Famous Dude's role was in all of this, and they were worried that I didn't necessarily have all the support I needed to carry out the studies I'd proposed. After emailing back and forth over the course of an hour, we decided that it might be a good idea for Famous Dude to send the Foundation a letter to clarify his full support.

Within 15 minutes I was Bcc'd on this letter, and again, the floodgates opened wide. This letter, from this man who owes me nothing, was incredible--four solid paragraphs on his commitment to the project, and, more notably, his dedication to my career development. He called me "an outstanding young scientist" with whom he has "long been impressed," among other nice things.

Between this and my grad advisor's correspondance, I was completely overcome with emotion. To know, at this time when I am feeling my absolute lowest, that there are people out there who firmly believe in me and are ready and willing to go to bat for me...well, it is more than I felt I deserved.

Unfortunately, Famous Dude's letter fell upon deaf ears. The Foundation sent a brief and dismissive reply, with no indication that resubmission might be possible. Fuckers.

So, where are we now?

Best case scenario, Famous Dude does his fall budget and is able to find funds for me. We apply for the R21, get it, and live happily ever after. This won't be known for at least another month, though, and I can't just sit around making no other plans. So in the meantime, I need to start looking for another lab for a (hopefully short) second post-doc. There are several concerns I have about this:

1. I feel like from a career standpoint, if you're going to do a 2nd post-doc, there has to be a real point to it. In other words, I think I should go somewhere I can learn a brand new technique. However,

2. I'm expensive. I've now had over 5 years of post-doc experience. Are people going to be willing to hire someone who's not only pricey, but needs to be trained as well? I'd imagine that if someone were going to shell out the dough for an experienced post-doc, they'd want that person because she would be bringing a well-honed skill set to the lab.

3. I talked to one of our new faculty about possibly joining his lab. He uses some very cool techniques that would be great for me to learn and his interests broadly overlap with mine, so it seems like a good fit. He agreed, but he doesn't have enough money. He also made the interesting point that if I plan on applying for funding, I shouldn't be with a new faculty member like him, I need to be with someone like Famous Dude. Given how ecstatic my K99 reviewers were over my "Environment" (all 1s!), I think he's probably right.

I'd love all your thoughts and advice, here. I feel like I'm teetering on the edge of either doing something awesome or completely blowing it--like expat postdoc notes in the comments of the last post, I don't want to take any old shitty position. However, I do need to pay my rent--as you might imagine, living in NY on a post-doc's salary does not allow one to save much of a cushion for times like these.

Finally, thanks again to everyone who commented and sent nice messages--on the blog, twitter, or via email--I'm so grateful to have such a caring and supportive group of readers!

There's no crying in science!!?? (part 1)

2010-08-09T03:01:00.000-04:00

Like 28% of iPhone users, I popped on the interwebs before getting out of bed Thursday morning. I was greeted by an email from the Foundation telling me that they would not be funding my proposal. The proposal that they asked me to write, and were very enthusiastic about in general. The proposal that would allow me to work with Famous Dude, crank out a high profile paper or two, and score a sweet TT job in another year or so (that easy!!!!). We really thought this grant was going to be funded.

Instead of a done deal, it's simply done--all of those hopes dashed by a reviewer who seemingly did not actually read the grant. Yeah, I know everybody says that when they get their summary statements, but seriously--how else do you explain criticisms like "it is not clear to us how many animals will be studied and what is the number of rats per experiment," when the first line of each Aim's methods states, for example, "Sixty male Sprague Dawley rats will be used for this experiment?"

The rejection has a lot of ramifications that are really quite serious in the context of my very near and very distant future. Not only does it mean that I most likely can't go work with Famous Dude, but it may mean that I will be unemployed in a few months. For the purposes of actually getting out of bed, though, I flicked the old denial switch to "on" and went about my usual morning activities: kitty medicine, Luna Bar, gym clothes, subway.

Once in lab, however, reality set in as I repeatedly fielded "how are you's" and "what's new's" from my lab mates (we are a friendly bunch!). Unlike Famous Dude, I have a terrible poker face, so it wasn't long before I was reaching for the Kimwipes. Per usual, my lab peeps were super supportive and awesome and agreed that the reviewer comments were probably written by the Foundation CEO's pomeranian.

When I broke the news to PI, he was extremely surprised, but had few words of comfort. He did, however, have many words of discomfort, most of which served to inform me that the grant I'm currently on would definitely run out sometime this fall. I listened to him, pressing firmly on the bridge of my nose, willing the tears back inside their ducts. It was of little use. When there was nothing else to say, I quickly thanked PI and ran out of his office before I completely lost it.

It is as if the floor has dropped out from under me. In 2-3 months I will lose my job, my health insurance, my productivity...all at a point in my career when I really need to be working. It is terrifying.

There is more to this story, of the not-necessarily-solving-any-problems-but-uplifting-nonetheless variety. But this is quite long already, so I'll leave it there, for now...

I AM the 3rd reviewer!

2010-08-02T03:15:00.002-04:00

I remember being a first-year grad student, sitting and having beers with some other first-year grad students and one of the "cool" PIs. We were talking about papers, and how much we thought some of them sucked. Cool PI smiled, and told us that she, too, had been ready to tear pretty much everything to shreds when she was a grad student and post-doc, but that as she grew older and wiser, she became more thoughtful, less quick to judge. Naturally, we were all quite surprised to hear this--we all expected to do more tearing things to shreds!

Since beginning my post-doc, I get reviewer requests maybe 2 times a year, which is just infrequently enough for me to be sort of flattered and happy about doing it. Cool PI's advice has really stuck with me, and I always try to be balanced in my comments, thinking carefully about the paper and finding something nice to say before considerately listing my concerns.

Sometimes, though? I can't help it. The paper is such absolute shit that the 3rd reviewer** in me starts begging to be let out, and I give in just a teensy bit. In the actual review I remain, to the best of my abilities, a paragon of equanimity and tact. In my head, however, it sounds more like this:

To the editors:

It is beyond comprehension how we live in a world in which the final author of this manuscript has an independently funded lab and I don't. The experiments contained herein--if one could even call them experiments--are poorly defined, uncontrolled, and lack any basis in the existing literature. To say that the methods are incomplete would be to expand the definition of "incomplete" beyond any semblance of its original meaning. What's that? OK fair enough, that last bit makes little sense.

The authors neglect to note the way in which their animals were sacrificed, yet it must be presumed that the animals were, indeed, sacrificed, as analysis of "the cortex" is claimed to have been done. Pray tell, would it have been too much to report which region(s) of the cortex were analyzed? It's just that I'm so curious! Of course, "analyzed" may be overstating the case, as no actual measurements or calculations were done--it is simply stated that the two experimental groups look different.

In sum, to allow this manuscript to progress even one step toward publication would be an insult to all that ever was or henceforth will be considered "science."

Respectfully yours,
Dr Becca

-------------------------------
** In case you missed it, the "3rd reviewer" refers to to one of many Downfall parodies, particularly one in which the subtitles are altered to suggest that Hitler is a PI receiving reviews of his recently submitted manuscript. He is informed that the first two reviewers had generally favorable comments, but that a 3rd reviewer was, shall we say, considerably more harsh. Hitler is not pleased, and utters the now-infamous catchphrase, "F%*$ REVIEWER 3!!!!!" Naturally, this being a parody, it is also exactly how things happen in real life, too.

The 3rd Reviewer is also now a real website, where anyone can comment anonymously on recent high-profile neuroscience and microbiology publications. Fun!

Can't read my- can't read my- no, I can't read my PI's poker face

2010-07-30T01:23:00.001-04:00

In case you've not yet made the switch over to Lab Spaces, here's what I wrote earlier today:

If this post's title has you all "Wha?", have a listen here. Yeah, I'm referencing Lady Gaga, you want to make something of it?

Famous Collaborator Dude/probable future PI (if you've been following along on blogspot) is awesome. He's totally brilliant, and has been incredibly generous with his lab resources and time. He's also really good at emailing me back immediately when I have a question, which is nice, although sometimes he gets back to me so fast (and so without punctuation and capital letters) I wonder if he actually read the thing that I sent to him for comments?

There is one thing, though--I can't read him!

Normally, picking up on social cues is my forté-- in person and even in writing--and it's gotten me far. And by "far" I mean "free stuff," sometimes. I didn't realize how much I rely on it to guide my interpersonal behavior, though, until I met him. He's impenetrable! And it's making me feel like I'm freaking Rainman or something. Not a good feeling.

I think I'm finding all of this especially unnerving because I'm the new kid, you know? I want to join his lab for real, and so I want to make him happy and do good work to prove my worth. But I can't tell if I'm making him happy! I just finished a manuscript on which he's last author, and he had almost no comments. Is this good or bad? I don't know!!! Some of you are PIs, right? Would you allow one of your trainees to submit a paper with your name on it that you weren't thoroughly pleased with?

I can sense that my thoughts are devolving into those of a neurotic teenager who isn't sure if the guy who sits behind her in geometry is into her. I feel it's only appropriate, then, that I send Famous Collaborator Dude this note:

Contest time!

2010-07-27T23:23:00.000-04:00

My parents are the ultimate science/art yin and yang--Mom's a crazy smart biomed researcher, while Dad could probably recite the entire Pantone catalogue. You'd think, then, that their offspring would have been these well-rounded überkind, Renaissance Children destined for world domination. Instead, they got one of each of themselves--my sister: arty, musically inclined, naturally perfect pitch, handy with a paintbrush--and me: nerdy, science-leaning, on the math team. I can't carry a tune, nor could I re-create the simplest of drawings. But why am I telling you all of this?

It's because I need your help.

While I'm totally loving my new digs over at LabSpaces, I'm looking around my blog page and, well, the walls are a little bare. When I was setting things up I noticed that I could upload a banner, and I'd be lying if I told you I immediately knew what that meant. But now that I do know what a banner is, I totally want one! I feel like it could really tie the room together.

And here's where you come in! If you design a banner for me, I will love you forever. Just follow these simple rules:

1. NO COMIC SANS
2. Must say "Fumbling towards tenure track" somewhere.
3. Must look good next to my Dumbo bum avatar.
4. Must be 620px x 100 px (or thereabouts)
5. Must be emailed to dr.becca.phd [at] gmail by noon (EST) Friday, July 30.

Presuming I get more than one entry, I will pick a winner! The winning banner will become my actual banner (I may even put it up here, too), and "Banner designed by [your name or pseudonym here]" will be displayed prominently on my main blog page. Fame ~~and fortune~~ will be yours!

Thank you thank you thank you in advance, talented arty readers!

My new home away from home

2010-07-26T00:43:00.000-04:00

Hey, if an electron can be in two places at once, why can't I? (don't answer that)

I'm happy to announce that I've just joined the gang at LabSpaces, an awesome website full of sciency news, helpful protocols, and sweet, sweet blogging. They've got a quickly growing and diverse community of writers, including biotech badass Jade Ed, hilarious cartoonist Angry Scientist, and two of my long-time favorite gals, Biochem Belle and Disgruntled Julie.

Now, fret not--I know with all the hulabaloo over at ScienceBlogs lately your Google Reader (or RSS feed manager of choice) has been taken for quite a spin, but I have no intention of abandoning my happy blogspot home. It's just that now I've got a...pied-à-terre of sorts.

++++++++

PS- for those of you who are relatively new to OtM: FTTT, you may want to check out my first post over at LabSpaces, which provides a handy Dr Becca refresher course.

What we can all learn from Inception

2010-07-21T15:55:00.001-04:00

If you felt like going to the movies in my grad school town, you just, you know, went to the movies. You met up with your friends maybe 15-20 min before showtime, bought tickets, got seats. Normal, right? This is not the case in New York. At least, this is not the case in New York if you want to see anything even remotely new, popular, critically acclaimed, artsy, or in IMAX--if Knight and Day is at the top of your queue, by all means, live in the moment.

Not only are most movies worth seeing sold out hours before showtime here, but people line up crazy early to get the best seats. Like, 90 minutes early. For a city whose residents always seem to have somewhere to go and something to do, New Yorkers love waiting in line. We wait in line for cupcakes, to get into Trader Joe's, and of course, for Apple products. The immense planning and standing around (not to mention pre-order ticket surcharges) required to enjoy a night at the movies means that J and I only head to the cinema when it's something we really feel like we need to see on the big screen, which means that we pretty much only see things in IMAX. Go big or go home, amirite?

This weekend we capped off a lovely day of water-based activities with the 1 am showing of Inception at the Lincoln Center IMAX.

It. Was. AWESOME.

I want to marry this movie. It's beautifully shot, clever but not overly smug, impeccably edited, and has a well-thought out internal logic that's surprisingly followable and mostly consistent. The themes, too, go well beyond the whole Matrix-y what-is-"real"-reality business, and I thought there were some pretty good messages that basically anyone could take home and apply to their own lives.

One of the big ideas in Inception is that of not letting your past decisions haunt you--actively choosing not to be crippled by regret. It's what LDC's character has to do in order to Get the Job Done, and as a reminder, Edith Piaf's "Non, je ne regrette rien" wafts in throughout the movie, penetrating each dreamer's consciousness, signaling an imminent return to wakefulness.

I'm currently writing up a project I did over the last year or so, and I'm realizing I could have done it better. Not that what I did isn't scientifically sound, but if I'd made some different decisions--say, collected blood from my animals, or used a different method of euthanasia, I could be asking a lot more interesting and revealing questions. At this point in the game, every publication I put out is important, and I feel like I didn't really maximize this one's potential.

And no, I can't do it again. I've got neither the time nor the money (nor, to quote Nicholson, the inclination) to re-do everything. What I can do is make the most of the data I do have, find the most appropriate journal for it, and allow all those "if I'd only"'s not to get me down, but to fuel my future work.

Like Leo, I have a Job to Get Done. You probably do too! And like Leo, we have all probably made some decisions we wish we hadn't. The key to success, just as Leo learned, is to face those decisions head on, acknowledge them, but refuse to let them own us. OK? It's settled, then. Can we pinky swear on this?

------------

PS- Candid Engineer also has a similarly-themed post up now. Go read, if you haven't already (though you probably have)!

Is "post-doc" passé?

2010-07-14T13:48:00.000-04:00

In Spanish and French (and probably some other languages too), you introduce yourself by saying "me llamo __" or "je m'appelle __," both of which literally translate to "I call myself __." I like this, for unlike the passive English "my name that someone else chose for me is," it suggests that you have at least some active role in defining yourself. Here in America, alas, I don't get much chance to exercise the old français, but I do find that it's often necessary to define myself. And it's not easy!

The post-doc is without question the most amorphous and uncertain of stages in an academic's Life Journey (not to mention the most hair-graying, ulcer-forming, and soul-crushing). And with the past decade's advent of even more nebulous terms like "super post-doc," it's more than likely that we struggle with identity issues--especially when faced with the task of defining ourselves, particularly to non-academics.

You grad students and professors have it easy--people have ideas, however misguided, about what it means to be one of those. But how do post-docs tell people who they are? You know, like at parties with people who aren't in science? A fellow blogger recently argued that the term "post-doc" is dead--it's lost what little cachet it might once have had, and is meaningless to those outside of academia, anyway. He opts instead for "short term contract researcher," an expression that sounds to me like the kind of thing you should say if you didn't want to talk to the person anymore. Whoops! Looks like I need another drink / have to find the restroom / remembered I left the stove on! The other thing I don't like about it is that it doesn't convey the fact that you have a schmancy degree! I mean, come on--I once had to fix my Old Navy sandals with a stapler, at least let me impress you with how educated I am!

No but seriously, fair enough--all the term "post-doc" really does say about you is that you should be addressed as "Dr" (something on which you should insist whenever appropriate!). When someone asks me what I do, I tell them that I am a scientist, and smile to indicate that I know how goofy that sounds. They like that, because "scientist" is one of those jobs that might have been in your when-I-grow-up list when you're five--you know: 1) astronaut; 2) firefighter; 3) artist; 4) vet; 5) scientist**. Only the most hardened of souls isn't at least somewhat intrigued by someone who describes herself as a scientist, and then they get to ask you the right questions to help paint a clearer picture of what you mean, rather than you launching into a jargony mish-mash about your PI or whatever.

In the end, I think what's important when we step outside the Ivory Tower isn't necessarily what we call ourselves, but that the words we choose foster, rather than quash, conversation. Scientists have a notorious reputation for not being able to communicate well to the public. If we want that reputation to change, we should at the very least find a way to define ourselves, even when that definition is in constant flux.

___________________________________________________

** My parents are in possession of paper proof that as a 4-year old I told my nursery school teacher that when I grew up I wanted to "play in institutions." I have no idea how I'd even have known what an institution was at that age, but I mean, way to follow my dreams, right?

Standards Deviation

2010-07-05T15:10:00.000-04:00

Growing up, there were a finite number of video tapes in our house. We didn't even have all that many, but it's like at a certain point we just stopped buying them, or bothering to record free HBO weekends. What this meant, then, is that my sister and I had seen everything we owned literally dozens of times, and could (and probably still can) quote most of them from start to finish. The brain's capacity for dialogue (and song lyrics!) is truly staggering, isn't it?

One of our favorites was the 1992 Cameron Crowe classic Singles, which while on the surface may seem to be your run-of-the-mill ensemble cast non-story about a bunch of 20-somethings looking for love in grunge-era Seattle, I'd argue that the film is notable not only for cameo appearances by some of the period's most influential figures--Chris Cornell, Eddie Vedder, and Tim Burton, to name but a few--but also for its genuine insight into the way people value themselves, and how that translates in their day-to-day interactions.

The movie is also eminently quotable, and one that has really resonated with me through the last 18 years (ZOMG) is a scene in which Campbell Scott asks Bridget Fonda what it is women really want from a guy. She replies:

Well, when I first moved out here, I wanted a guy with looks, security, caring...someone with their own place, someone who said "bless you" or "gesundheit" when I sneezed...someone who liked the same things as me, but not exactly...and someone who loves me.

He's all "Wow, that's a lot!" and she's all "Yeah, I've scaled back a little," and he's like, "So what's the list now?" and the answer:

Someone who says "gesundheit."

I feel like I've had pretty much the exact same conversation with myself over the last year or two, but regarding my job, not men (in that arena, as you might imagine, I have unwaveringly maintained the highest of standards). If you'd asked me a couple of years ago where I wanted to be in five years, I'd probably have said something like, "Well, I'd like a job in academia. Ideally, I'll be tenure track faculty somewhere, either at an R1 university or a prestigious liberal arts college. Either way, the students will be super smart. And it'll be in or near a really cool city, hopefully in the Northeast. And I'll be doing some teaching, but not too much teaching, and I'll have a perfectly small-to-medium-sized lab where we take an interdisciplinary and elegant approach to answering timely and clinically relevant questions. Etc!"

But had you asked me again, say, 6 months ago, my answer would have been more like, "Well, I'd like a job." The unscored K99 made me seriously re-evaluate my place in the TT applicant pool, and like Bridget Fonda, I lowered my standards. I applied EVERYWHERE, including many places that didn't at all fit my dream job description, and even started browsing job ads for non-academic positions. Now, there are of course good reasons for doing this anyway, like experience and leverage and maybe-I'll-be-surprised-by-how-much-I-like-southwestern-Idaho, but if I'm being honest, it was at least in part out of feelings of desperation.

I HATE feelings of desperation!

Well, there's nothing like a couple of good meetings to show feelings of desperation the door, and I came back from two last month thinking to myself, Did I actually allow myself to entertain the possibility of a job in publishing? We can DO this! (that's the royal "we," which I've found is also quite useful re: self-esteem.)

More concretely, I've been invited to apply for a grant from a Private Foundation, which would fund two years of work with Famous Dude. I wrote the proposal, and it pleased Famous Dude. Things are moving along. I'm not letting myself get too excited, but I like to think of things as "definitely not not happening." If it all works out, my stock should rise significantly. And in anticipation, my standards have begun to creep up as well.

Ph.Dishes - Brandied Cherries!

2010-06-21T09:58:00.000-04:00

Aw, I can't stay mad for long--especially when it's cherry season! Here at Chez Dr Becca, the start of cherry season means it's time for a new batch of brandied cherries, and it is a happy time indeed. If you've never had a brandied cherry before, you've truly been missing out on one of Life's Finer Pleasures ($20 and Under), so thank heavens you stumbled across this blog when you did! These are super easy and so incredibly delicious, especially in a tasty cocktail or over ice cream. They also make a nice gift. So go to the store, buy a big old bag of bings, and let's get started!

The first step in making brandied cherries is to change your clothes. No seriously. You've got to pit your cherries, and pitting cherries is a juicy mess of an endeavor, so go ahead and put on whatever you'd normally reserve for yard work or something. Pitting is an absolute necessity, not only because it makes eating them easier, but because it allows much more of your spicy brandy concoction to soak into the cherries. You might not own a cherry pitter, but they're not too hard to find, and not that expensive. I got mine at a restaurant supply store for ~$5. It looks not wholly unlike a primitive torture device:

Now I'm not going to sugar coat things, here--pitting isn't fun. But you must persevere, so flip on the telly or a podcast or whatever and get to work!

When you're finished, set the cherries aside, and raid your spice cabinet. Be sure to grab some cinnamon, cloves, and cardamom--whole sticks/pods are preferable, but ground is OK too. Other spices in that general family can also be good, like allspice or maybe even a teensy bit of coriander.

Add equal parts white sugar and water to a large saucepan, about a cup of each per pint of cherries you have. Add your spices, remembering that a little goes a long way, especially when it comes to cloves (and cardamom). And you know what else? It certainly wouldn't kill you to add a splash of vanilla extract to the mix. Heat it all and stir until the sugar is dissolved, and then let it simmer for around 5 min. While you're waiting, you may as well go ahead and open your bottle of brandy. And while your bottle of brandy is open, you might as well pour yourself a little glass. I mean, what else would you do with 5 minutes?

After making sure that the brandy hasn't been poisoned (nobody wants poisoned brandied cherries!), turn off the heat and dump your cherries into the pot. Stir in some brandy, maybe 1/2 cup per cup of water you put in, but no one's complaining if you round up, you know what I mean? Cover the pot and let everything sit until it's cooled to room temp, and then transfer cherries and syrup to a sealable jar.

Stick the jar in the fridge, preferably somewhere hidden, because now comes the hard part--you've got to wait for the cherries to macerate. They're going to taunt you every time you go for a wine cooler (hypothetically speaking), but you must resist!! Give it at least 2 weeks before breaking the seal, and then get yourself a nice pint of Haagen-Dazs Vanilla or a nice Rittenhouse Rye Manhattan, and....MMMMMM!!!!!!!

OMG NIH WTF?

2010-06-19T11:20:00.002-04:00

There are many beautiful features of NYC that inspire feelings of awe and wonder in me; the Brooklyn Bridge, the view of midtown from the north side of the Central Park Reservoir, and the bourbon wall at Char No. 4 in Carroll Gardens are a few examples. But on the rare occasions that I get out to the mountains, it’s a whole other kind of awe. America is so pretty sometimes!

So I was out in the mountains this week for a small meeting, the focus of which was about as close as you can get to my exact specific interests. It was so awesome. So much nature-y and science-y goodness! Plus, I knew a ton of folks there—some friends from grad school, some acquaintances I’d met at previous meetings over the years—I felt like I was with my people, you know?

I learned so much and had so many great conversations, and I’m returning to New York just bursting with ideas for experiments. It’s a nice feeling to want to get back to lab. I also learned something VERY INTERESTING from my roommate re: the flexibility of NIH funding policies.

As we were introducing ourselves and getting to know each other, I mentioned that I’d unsuccessfully applied for a K99 award. When she asked me whether I’d resubmitted, I lamented that by the time the following due date rolled around, I’d passed the 5-year postdoc mark, making me ineligible.

“Oh no,” she said, “a guy in my lab was in the exact same boat as you with an unscored proposal and had passed the 5-year mark as well. But he appealed to be allowed to resubmit on the grounds that he’d started the process before the 5-year mark, and they let him and it got funded!”

Well! I’m sure you can imagine my response to that!

I mean, WTF, NIH? It explicitly says in the K99-R00 FAQ that

Investigators who have more than 5 years of postdoctoral research training experience at the time of initial application or subsequent resubmission(s) are not eligible.

I might be crazy, but what this suggests to me is that you cannot resubmit if you have over 5 years post-doc experience? I’m of course totally happy for this guy who found a way to make it all happen, but obviously if I’d thought there was any wiggle room in what is an exceptionally straightforward rule of eligibility, I’d have done the same thing! There are many instances where a well-argued appeal makes sense, but I feel like in this case, it should either be a rule or not, you know?

Look, I know this post reeks of sour grapes, and I know that life isn't fair, and that complaining rarely achieves much beyond annoying the people listening to you (sorry guys!). But sometimes you just gotta vent, and I mean, isn't that what the interwebz are for?

Does your PI do your PR?

2010-06-10T23:11:00.001-04:00

In case "PR" has some scientific meaning that's either not occurring to me or is relevant only in fields with which I'm not well-acquainted, I'm talking about Public Relations, here. I've been thinking about this a lot, lately--the role of the PI in "advertising" his or her trainee, especially when the trainee is getting close to the next phase, be it grad student to post-doc, or post-doc to junior faculty. I mean, it's in everyone's best interest for us to move onward and upward, right? So why aren't they all selling the shit out of us? Or if you're a PI, why aren't you selling the shit out of your trainees? Or are you?

I'm not talking about writing letters of recommendation, here; everyone does that. What I mean is, what extra things is your PI doing to show the world how great you are? Or is this not happening? And how do you feel about that? This is an essay question, to be answered in the comments by both trainees and PIs alike.

A couple of recent experiences have made me hyper-aware of this phenomenon. First, I was at a small symposium in the city a couple of weeks ago. Four really great talks, including one by my PI and one by a very famous collaborator dude (VFCD--different from the new Famous Dude I may work with soon). My PI didn't present my work, but VFCD did. And right before VFCD presented my work, he said, "this is the work of Dr Becca, who is over there (he points, I wave bashfully) and what she did that was really monumental was..." I mean, he actually said "monumental," which I thought was really nice of him. I don't even know if I'd consider my work monumental, but it made me feel really good that he'd promote me like that. Moreover, he deferred to me to answer any relevant questions after the talk, and not because he couldn't have answered them himself--VFCD is a bona fide brilliant person who has the mind-blowing ability to remember every tiny bit of data you've ever mentioned to him in the hallway or whatever. So that was all really great. I felt like I was being treated like an adult, having adult scientist conversations with other adult scientists, and I was so grateful to VFCD for that.

More recently, I was at a meeting in the Midwestern US (OMG $2.75 for Maker's Mark??!!??!). During one of the talks, the speaker said, "this is the work of my post-doc ____, who is here at this meeting," and she showed a picture of this post-doc, which she continued to show a couple more times as she went through the data. I saw this and thought, That is so smart and great! Now people don't have to remember her name--they can just remember her face! And then they'll recognize her at future meetings, rather than having to randomly check her name tag and try and remember where they heard the name. I am so doing this when I am a PI. Every time.

These truly small-in-effort gestures are, I think, really important for trainees. While in the long run, we of course will (and should) bear the primary burden for promoting ourselves, you never know what a two-second mention, a photo, or a casual "monumental" here or there can really do for a person.

Come on, get happy!

2010-06-02T17:33:00.002-04:00

Arg, again I am a day late for the Scientiae Carnival, but I'm doing a post anyhow, dammit! This month's theme is celebration, and it's a great way to start the summer. I feel like we so often focus on the trials and tribulations of being scientists (and with good reason, as the trials and tribulations of scientists are many) that we often forget (or worse, are afraid/ashamed) to allow ourselves a little joy when things go well. So, what do I have to be happy about?

When we last checked in with each other, I was reeling from the realization that I'd soon have to leave my lab and struggling against a bizarre but deep-rooted discomfort with success. Since then, I've been working hard to get a plan together for September, and it's actually all been kind of......awesome.

The obvious choice for a new lab is a Famous Dude at a different NYC institution with whom I've recently done a little collaboration. I met him in his office a couple of weeks ago and said, "I'd really like to continue the work I did with you last year, studying the effects of A on measure B, with a general focus on brain region C." He said, "Well, A might be OK, but we don't really do measure B anymore, and I'm not all that interested in brain region C." At that, both my jaw and heart dropped what felt like a mile. But before the waterworks could begin, he went on: "Look, the lab is pretty full, but I'd like to help you out. Why don't you try to come up with some ideas of things you'd like to do that fit within the current focus of the lab, and we can talk again in a week or two?"

Believe it or not, at first I was devastated. The thought of having to leave my pet project--my pet brain region, even--behind made me super sad. I mean, what if someone else did the experiments while I was off being unfaithful, messing around with brain region D? MY experiments? It was then that I realized how head-over-heels in love I'd been with my own ideas, and how monumentally stupid that was (more on this in a future post, probably). I got a grip and said to myself, "Self, we have a chance to work with Famous Dude, who pretty much sneezes Glamour Mag pubs. Let's think of some sexy new experiments and make it happen!"

So I had some thoughts and I wrote them up in a little 1-page specific aim-type proposal, which I nervously sent off to Famous Dude one Sunday evening. He got back to me within the hour with a response that included the expression "home run." Not to brag or anything!

Now of course, nothing is set in stone (there are, as always, money issues) and thus part of me thinks we shouldn't dare start celebrating just yet. But another part of me says, you know what? Go ahead and bask in the glow of that tiny bit of validation--heaven knows we don't get that too often.

So as things progress on this front, I'm allowing myself to feel cautiously optimistic.

In the meantime, I'm headed to two meetings this month to present some cool new data. I finished my poster last night, and as is customary in the Dr Becca household, I made myself a cocktail in celebration. It's called a Bijou, and it may be the most delicious potable on earth. Equal parts gin, sweet vermouth, and green Chartreuse, stirred with ice until very cold and then strained into a cocktail glass, it is elegant, balanced, and the perfect accompaniment to just about anything. Garnish with a homemade brandied cherry if you like (I like).

Cheers!

PS: Lots of other current events of note, but I think trying to squeeze it all into a single post may be ill-advised. Stay tuned...

Ph.Dishes - pickled cucumbers!

2010-05-30T11:54:00.000-04:00

Huzzah, Memorial Day weekend! It's the official start of summer, and I went out and bought a pair of white sandals yesterday just to celebrate! OK, they are more like "nice flip-flops" than sandals per se, but whatever. You don't care about my footwear, you care about my delicious recipes, n'est-ce pas?

With the start of summer also comes grilling season, and unless you are a total misanthrope, you will probably be invited to (or host) a BBQ party or twelve in the coming months. But you cannot show up empty handed, can you? Now, maybe you find that it is just so stress-free to pick up a bag of Tostitos (tm) and a jar of Old El Paso (tm) on your way to the party, but as a frequent party-thrower let me tell you, the person who brings chips and salsa to the party is LAME. Seriously. Don't be that guy. Do be the guy who brings my mom's pickled cucumbers, because they are the easiest and cheapest thing in the world to make, and if you bring these to a party, rest assured that you will be invited to EVERY party henceforth.

First you need a giant English/seedless cucumber, and I will fucking hurt you if you try to do this with a standard cucumber. I am not even kidding! I know they're more expensive, but this entire dish is going to cost you about $2.75, which is less than half the cost of chips and salsa, so splurge on the fancy cukes already! I was talking with one of my lab mates the other day about salad (you can see that we are the kind of lab that is not afraid to tackle the Big Issues) and I literally spoke the words "But the thing is, I'm kind of a cucumber snob?" and I totally said it in that annoying up-talking way, too. At first I hated myself for saying something like that, but then I decided that I have no shame in my cucumber snobbery. If it were possible for non-English cucumbers to become extinct, I would fully support the loss of species. (Are they even different species? I have no idea. I'm a neuroscientist, not a botanist!)

Anyway. Take your fancy cucumber and take a fork. Run the fork down the length of the cucumber, all the way around, so that you've scored the skin (you have to press kind of hard). This will make the cucumber slices look pretty and somewhat flower-like when you're done! Then, slice the cucumber as thinly as is humanly possible. I mean seriously, crazy thin. Put all the slices in a bowl, and add a little also-extremely-thinly-sliced onion. Not a ton, just enough to add a little variety. This is "pickled cucumbers," not "pickled cucumbers and onions," you understand? Put everything in a bowl.

Next, put equal parts white sugar and white vinegar (do NOT use a different kind of vinegar. I will not vouch for your results) in a small saucepan. 1/2 cup of each usually works for a normal-sized cuke, but if you happen to have gotten a real big one, add a little more. Toss in a little salt. Cook until the sugar is dissolved or almost dissolved, which will only take a few minutes--you don't even have to boil it!

Pour the mixture over your sliced cukes and onions. It may not quite cover everything, but this is OK, I promise! The cucumbers are going to release a ton of water, so in a couple hours it will all be submerged.

OH!!!

***Important*** This reminds me, you should be doing this at least 4-5 hrs (ideally a whole day) before people are actually going to be eating your delicious pickled cucumbers.

Cover and refrigerate. That is all! Be aware, at first people are going to be like, "Hmm, you brought pickles. Weird!" But then they're going to eat them and then they're going to freak out. I had a party once and someone had brought a different salad, and even though the pickled cucumbers were long gone, people were pouring the juice from the pickle bowl onto the other salad. I would not make this up; this is how good these pickles are. They are great as a little crunchy side, or as a topping on burgers, pulled pork sandwiches, etc. They are magical.

So have a great weekend, everyone! I have loads of news and things re: my sciency life, but I'm trying to organize my thoughts and whatnot before spewing the past few weeks' events into cyberspace. In the meantime, happy pickling!

Stars of Track and Field

2010-05-14T16:00:00.000-04:00

In high school I was a runner. Running suited me because it required little to no coordination (at 5'9" by age 14, you can imagine what a gangly mess of legs I was), and because the first time I had to run a mile for the Physical Fitness Test I did it in 8:13 without even trying too hard. But even with all that natural talent (ha!) I was no track star, probably because I continued not to try too hard. I liked running, and I was happy just to do well, usually placing in the top third-ish of my races. But I didn't have the competitive attitude; the idea of actually winning a race just wasn't enough to turn me into one of those girls who sprinted to the finish line in unmasked agony, only to promptly hurl the previous night's carb-fest all over their coach/parents.

There was this one time though.

About 30 seconds into an 800m race I noticed something strange--I was in front of the pack. Numero uno. How is this even happening? I wondered. This is...different. But also kind of cool. I guess I'll just stay here? And stay there I did--up until the final hundred meters or so, when someone passed me to take first. As I realized what was happening, I think the internal monologue went something like Oh hmmm...OK. Well, that's a little more normal! And you know, second place is also awesome.

??????????

I mean, second place was awesome--it was the best I'd ever done in any race ever and my coach was really pleased. But amazingly, it was only after many years that it occurred to me to wonder why, when I had a chance to actually WIN, I didn't just gun it and kick her ass? Where was my fightin' spirit?

I feel like my science career has, in some ways, mirrored my high school running experience up until that fateful race. I've been happy doing good work, answering the questions that interest me most, without worrying too much (heh) about whether I'll be accepting a Nobel in 50 years or whether my name will ever be uttered in the same sentence as "paradigm shift." (yeah, yeah carebearsfuckingteaparty!) But unlike high school track, whose winners did not actually matter, science is not an extra-curricular activity; it is my life, and it is competitive as hell. As Candid Engineer recently noted, competition all too often reveals the ugly side of the human condition, but it's also necessary to have at least some competitive instincts if you're going to make it in the end.

That girl, coming up quick on my right, she is the 200+ post-docs who apply to every job that I do. This time, though, I'm making some moves. Things are in the works, people! A little too early-stage for me to tell you the details, but maybe soon. Rest assured, though, that this time, second place is not also awesome.

I need a montage!

2010-05-06T12:32:00.002-04:00

Getting back into the swing of things after a meeting is never the smoothest of transitions, but this week's post-Experimental Biology re-entry has been especially bumpy. I returned to a stack of exams to grade, an experiment to finish, a lecture to prepare, and general feelings of uneasiness about my future. The exams took ~~fucking forever~~ longer than I'd have liked, and then my stupid control experiment (the only thing I need before writing it up) produced nothing measurable, so I have to troubleshoot and do it again. Waahh.

Whatever, I do it again, not a big deal. What is a big deal is that I also met with my boss this week, and for the first time we out-loud acknowledged what we've been ignoring for a while now: there is no definite funding for my project after the summer. This means that there's no funding for me unless I want to switch to working on the lab's main project, which is significantly different from what I've been doing so far. Now, not only do I not want to be on that project, but I don't think it would be a good move, career-wise. This is the time I'm supposed to be defining myself, doing work that's explicitly my own; on this project I'd literally be just a set of hands.

So there's that! You might say I've got some shit to figure out. Do I look for a new lab that's doing things more in sync with my interests? Suck it up and help out with my current lab's big project for a bit while I apply for grants of my own (many thanks to Drug Monkey's Twitter advice and link re: R vs K awards)? Give up completely?

Whenever people in the movies reach that pivotal point at which they go from feeling beat-down to getting their act together to accomplish their Big Goal, there's a montage to demonstrate the person's journey from beat-down-ness to awesomeness. A particularly on-point commentary on this phenomenon can be found in the near-classic film Team America: World Police

I feel like I need a montage. In my montage, you'll see me alternately: having thoughtful sciencey discussions with potential future collaborators in downtown cafes; pipetting; typing late at night (to demonstrate lateness, you'll see J come over to me at my desk, kiss me on the forehead, and stumble sleepily off to bed, shaking his head in disbelief at how hard I'm working); looking at beautiful fluorescent things in a microscope; hitting "submit manuscript" with a satisfied and accomplished look on my face; etc!

Oh and also there'll be a shot of me teaching as students look on, totally engaged and totally not checking facebook. Today I gave my first bona fide lecture that I put together myself completely from scratch, and even though I was very stressed out when I was making it last night at 2 am (this is the way you professors do things, yes?), I think it went very well. The professor in charge of the class seemed really happy with my decisions on what to include, and when I was up there talking I remember thinking at one point, "Wow! People are actually writing down the things that I'm saying!" I mean, obviously this happens at meetings or whatever all the time, but for some reason this felt different. I was molding young minds!

ANYway...yeah. To conclude, montages are totally motivational and I really need to get pumped up here. It's going to be an interesting couple of months...

Notes from Experimental Biology

2010-04-28T16:29:00.000-04:00

I think it's safe to say that I've probably eaten more Baja Fresh in a 30-hr period than any normal-sized person ever should. But it was that or Sbarro, so... .

Anyway, carnitas overdose aside, I had a very nice trip to Anaheim. When I wasn't compulsively checking the PC-compatibility of my Mac-designed presentation or arguing with my circadian clock about what time it was, I bounced around the exhibits and talks, spending a solid amount of time in the Career Resources Center. And I gotta say, the EB CRC kicked the SfN CRC's ass so much it wasn't even funny! There were at least 3 or 4 workshops going on at any given time between 8 am and 4 pm, plus a job board, plus a private area for interviews, plus people who would critique your CV. In addition to the expected topics like "how to write a great cover letter," "the NIH peer review process," and "how to give a dynamic talk" (hot damn was that one packed! You'd think it had never occurred to anyone to label their x- and y-axes before, the way they were all scribbling furiously), there were some unconventional (and, it should be noted, poorly attended) workshops as well.

I went to the "social media and career development" workshop because I am kind of a crazy social media junky, and was curious to hear how all of my internet friends could help me get a job. Sadly, I was not impressed. I mean, here was this guy, trying to explain Twitter to people, and he hadn't thought to put a screen shot of a Twitter feed in his presentation? People (especially in the scientific community, it seems) are absolutely clueless about what Twitter is for besides reading about what Ashton Kutcher ate for lunch, and hearing nothing but "well you see, you follow people and see their tweets, and people who follow you see your tweets" is not all that helpful.

Oh, how did my talk go? I think it went pretty well. I was a little nervous, and kept saying "channels" when I meant "receptors," but I think in general I was clear and told a good story. I'll admit, though, it was not the easiest thing in the world to present my former advisor's data. It's not that I didn't know it well enough or anything, it's just that on a certain level I couldn't own the work the way I can my own. There was a mediated discussion after all four parts of the symposium were finished, and I pretty much completely BS'd my way through my answer to what was, frankly, a not-all-that-answerable question (DrugMonkey, I truly hope you'd left by that point!)

The best part of the whole meeting, though, was a long chat I had after my talk with one of my contemporaries, a post-doc who left my lab for a second post-doc just before I arrived, and who's just accepted a TT job offer. We talked lots of science, and then some jobby stuff, about which he had some interesting things to say. First, he's currently in one of the departments that had an opening I applied to, and he said that they got 1200 applications for that position, and that the people who got interviews had 7-8 years of post-doc experience. So I'm thrilled to hear that the 7-8 year post-doc is the new 4-5 year post-doc--just like 35 is the new 25, yes? Along those lines, he also said something very wise. He said "Look, if you get a job tomorrow, it's not going to be as good as the job you'd get in a year or two." This is totally true, and made me feel significantly better about my situation. Do I want the job that awesome-ish me could get now, or the job that super-awesome me could get after a couple more fancy papers? Door number 2, please!

Finally, when I asked him how he thought I fielded that discussion question, he said "I think it was an appropriately verbose and evasive answer, given the question." Hahahaha!! I am going to be such a good scientist!!

One night only!

2010-04-24T22:07:00.000-04:00

We are pleased to announce that Dr Becca will be making a rare West Coast appearance in the coming days. Though this limited engagement--just 32 hrs on California soil--will be her Experimental Biology meeting debut, her ~~performance~~ talk is rumored to be one celebrated for years to come.

I am so excited, you guys!!! I gave my talk to my department yesterday, and not only was it exactly 25 minutes, but everyone said it was super clear and well put-together and interesting. Since my post-doc work is loosely related to my grad advisor's (whose place I'm taking, in case you haven't read the backstory), I was able to squeeze in a little of my recent work, which I think will cause much eye-widening and ooh-ing and ah-ing, and possibly opening of the old department checkbook, if you know what I mean.

Oh, just kidding. Sort of.

I have to say, one thing I'm really impressed with is how many career-oriented resources there are for young scientists. I mean, they've got workshops going on all day, every day for people just like me! Topics include:

"NIH K awards"
"Formula for grant success"
"Social media and career development for life sciences" (I KNEW there had to be a way to cash in on all that twittering!)
"The job talk"
"Ten ways to get lucky in the job search"
"Developing your personal statement/elevator pitch"
etc!!

There's also a whole symposium on Sunday afternoon about non-traditional careers like publishing and regulatory affairs, and another on the ins and outs of the peer review process. This, I think, is pretty great, and I'm really looking forward to checking some of them out in between posters and mentally rehearsing my talk for the gajillionth time.

And speaking of my talk--if you happen to find yourself at it (and I'm confident you'll know if you are), do come say hi after! Do not, however, blab my last name all over teh interwebs.

See you in Anaheim!

Have you hugged your post-doc today?

2010-04-15T15:39:00.000-04:00

I'm speaking metaphorically, of course; everyone knows that scientists are socially challenged and very rarely engage in human contact. But if I may reiterate the sentiments of Dr Isis and Scicurious, there is a way you can do something great for that special post-doc in your life--be it yourself, your future self, your current PhD-holding trainee, relative, friend, or significant other--write your congressperson!

President Obama's FY 2011 budget includes a 6% increase in trainee stipends, which, while modest (especially in light of what we actually make), would be a significant improvement over the last 4 years' budgets, in which stipend increases were either 0% or 1%. We are long overdue for this raise, but the budget still needs to work its way through appropriations in order for these changes to become a reality.

So here's where you come in! Write to your congressperson and tell them how important it is that our country invests in its young scientists. The National Postdoctoral Association's website has all the information you might need to do so, including links to all the appropriations committee members and a form letter in case you're not sure exactly what to say. But I highly encourage you to write your own letter, with feeling!

Think of it like a hug for your post-doc. A hug made of money.

Ph.Dishes - Meat Stock, and saving the environment

2010-04-08T11:36:00.002-04:00

I really really really wanted to write a post for biochem belle's excellent Scientiae Carnival on Sustainability this month, but re-working my former advisor's talk for this upcoming meeting on top of an evil, not-going-away cough has me not quite capable of putting thoughts together in a coherent way. Or maybe it's just all the Nyquil? I'll admit, too, that when I hear the word "sustainability" I first think of things like grass-fed beef and supporting local farmers and whatnot. You know, the environment! And how it relates to food.

So on that note, I'm going to tell you how I make meat stock, which is useful not only for actual soup, but for things like risotto, chicken marsala, and red wine mushroom sauce as well. What does this have to do with the environment? Well, you can make stock almost exclusively from things you were just going to throw away, so it's like recycling! You will need:

1. A carcass. Any kind will do--the bones from a chicken or turkey you recently roasted, lamb leg bone, pork shoulder bone, etc. Shrimp heads, leftover beef, anything, really!
2. Your veggie discards freezer bag. This takes a little planning, but starting TODAY, every time you peel a carrot or take off the outer onion layer or chop the tops from celery, put it in a freezer bag. If you don't cook with these things enough for this to be all that realistic, just go buy the veggies.
3. Some fresh herbs. It doesn't really matter too much what kind; I usually just throw in whatever I happen to have in the fridge. But that said, I'd recommend dill, rosemary, parsley, sage, etc. Pretty much anything but mint. If you live in NYC, I highly encourage getting your herbs from FreshDirect (if you can't make it to the farmers market, of course!)--they're super cheap and you get like 5 times as much as you get in those crappy plastic containers at Whole Foods or wherever.

So you throw it all in a stockpot, dump in a ton of kosher salt and grind a bunch of pepper over it, fill the thing with water, and let it simmer for maybe 2 hrs. Here's what it will look like if you're using the pork shoulder you smoked a couple of weeks ago:

You may want to stir it once in a while, but it doesn't need a whole lot of attention. Plus, the kitties will keep an eye on things for you:

When it's finished, let it cool a little and then pour through a colander into tupperware. You can freeze it if you like! Toss all the mushy veggies and herbs, conscience clean that you at least used them before throwing them out. Also, you'll never have to buy bouillon again!

The latest in lab fashion

2010-04-02T02:33:00.000-04:00

Today was my birthday (NO FOOLING), and I officially have the coolest boyfriend anywhere, because he got me this:

Namaste.

He chose the Pearl Station patch because it's where Dharma researchers purportedly observe, record, and report the behavior of the button-pushers in the Swan Station, much like I observe, record, and report the behavior of my rats. However, as we learn in the final episodes of Season 2 ("Live Together/Die Alone"), the reports actually just end up in a big pile in the middle of the island somewhere, never to be read. Much like my papers, but the island in this metaphor is PubMed, or the internet or something.

When life becomes an After-School Special

2010-03-28T22:41:00.000-04:00

You know the scene.

It's The Big Game. Our protagonist sits on the sidelines in street clothes, a deflated look on her face. Though she trained all season with the team--countless times up and down the bleacher stairs, suicide drills until her thighs cried out in agony, and damn but all those practice penalty kicks/free throws/etc--she didn't make the cut for the championship this year. Late in the final quarter or half or whatever, the game's tied. Suddenly, the home team's star player is down! Her ankle is twisted; there's no way she can keep playing. The coach turns to our protagonist. "Hey!" he says, tossing her a spare jersey. "You're in. Go get changed." A smile, followed by a look of intense determination appears on her face, and she dashes for the locker room.

Yesterday I got an email from my thesis advisor that read, "I'm meant to give a talk on Your Area of Research, Broadly Defined at upcoming Giant Meeting, but I've hurt my leg and can't travel. Would you like to give it for me?" (I am not even kidding, she really hurt her leg. It is too much!!!) Naturally I replied, "YES! YES! YES! Oh, and sorry about your leg!" She promised to send me her PowerPoint, to which I could add some of my recent relevant data.

I am really excited about this, folks. I feel like it's my Big Moment. I checked out the meeting program, and I'll be following one of the country's absolute top people re: My Area of Research, Broadly Defined. It's scary, but also an amazing chance for me to really strut my stuff and get my name out there.

And so, we all know what happens next, right? Seconds are left on the clock. Without warning, our protagonist finds the ball in her hands/at her feet/against her field hockey stick, with no one between her and the basket/goal. She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and just as the buzzer/whistle goes.....

SCORE!!!!!!!!

"Use more hyphens" and other career panel advice

2010-03-21T18:55:00.003-04:00

On Friday my institution hosted a "career panel" for post-docs. Though it was mostly meant to be a chance for us to hear from people who'd decided not to stay in academia after getting their PhDs, I decided to go, figuring it would be mildly interesting at the very least, and monumentally life-changing at the very most.

The panel consisted of three biotech/pharma people, one publishing person, and one academia person (administration, not faculty). They were asked to describe their journeys off the tenure-track track, discuss the current state of hiring at their company/institution, and describe desirable qualities in new hires. In a surprising twist, all except the publishing person noted that having several first-author publications in top-tier journals was supremely important.

And just as I was about to be all, tell me something I don't know, I did learn something I didn't know! The publishing lady, after talking about how she entered publishing when she realized she hated bench work and how people who succeed in publishing have a keen eye for dangling prepositions and whatnot, said this: "Something I've noticed is that people in this country often don't hyphenate when they should. So...use more hyphens!" As a long-standing proponent of the hyphen, I felt that this was advice I could really get behind.

Two out of the three biotech/pharma people were pretty depressing. Neither one seemed to be all that enthusiastic about industry, and they each noted that hiring where they were had all but ground to a halt. One did admit, though, that when her company does accept applications the initial CV screening is done by computer, meaning that if your CV doesn't contain exact word matches from the job ad, you're not getting through. Crikey!

The third industry person, however, was different. Unlike the other two, he genuinely seemed to love his job and believe in his company. He was cool, and spoke with the casual wisdom of someone who probably takes his kids fishing on the weekends, and also knows a lot about wine. He qualified his earlier statement re: potential hires' publication records and said that while fancy papers were great, they were also looking for creative people, people who write well, people who have skills they didn't know they had. His company has on staff a group of what they call "deep divers"--people whose job it is to immerse themselves in literature, attend meetings, and report back with all the cool stuff they learned and help everyone think about how to apply it to the company's work. Sounds kind of fun, no?

I looked at this guy's company's website, and they've won several "Best Places to Work" and "Most Innovative Companies" awards. And, according to him, they're currently looking to fill 50 new spots for Ph.D-holders! I'm not sure if I should just blab this company's name out loud, but if you're seriously considering an industry job, shoot me an email and I'll point you in the right direction.

While it's nice to know that I was not completely turned off by the prospect, I'm not ready to start applying for "alternative careers" just yet. Plus, I had a pretty great week in the academic world: got some new exciting data, started planning the class I'm going to help teach, met a faculty member who wants to collaborate, and convinced my boss to send me to two conferences this summer. So for now, then, I'll be staying on the tenure-track track.

It's Brain Awareness Week, Everybody!

2010-03-16T01:39:00.000-04:00

To celebrate the best week of the year, I made you, my lovely readers, this card:

For more official information on BAW, check out the Dana Foundation. Yay brains!

Ph.Dishes - Slow-cooked short ribs with cheesy grits!

2010-03-12T02:53:00.001-05:00

That mother nature, she's a tricky one, isn't she? Why, just last weekend it was downright spring-like, and I was jogging over the Brooklyn Bridge without a care in the world. Not a week later and it's cold and rainy again, and my calves are freaking KILLING me!!! Sure it's a drag, but look on the bright side--it's still appropriate to eat rich, heavy food! There will be plenty of time for grilled fish and whatnot in a month or two, promise.

A couple of weeks ago I made short ribs in the crock pot. Short ribs, though neither particularly short nor rib-like (DISCUSS), are super cheap and totally delicious, but you really do have to slow-cook them, because they have lots of interwoven fatty bits that need to be rendered off. If you don't have a crock pot you should go buy one immediately; it is an essential item. They're like $30 at Target or wherever and they make the best food! You know those annoying people who, when you compliment their food, are like "Oh, I just threw a bunch of stuff together"? Crock pots let you be those people! You are literally about to throw a bunch of stuff together, and it's going to be amazing.

Remember, this has to cook for 8-10 hours, so get it started in the morning, or at least by noon or 1pm. It's a nice Sunday thing to do.

1. Chop up some hardy vegetables. I like to start with a classic mirepoix, which is my favorite way of saying onions, carrots, and celery. You could also add a parsnip or some mushrooms, but stay away from things like zucchini and broccoli; they'll just disintegrate. Throw them in the crock pot, toss with kosher salt, black pepper, and olive oil. Lay a rosemary sprig on top if you have one.

Pretty, but not for long.

2. Put some oil in a skillet, and turn the heat to high. Salt and pepper the short ribs, and brown them on two sides. You're not cooking the short ribs, just sealing in all the flavor! Just a couple of minutes per side, so they look like this:

See? Brown!

3. Put the short ribs on top of the veggies in the crock pot. Now here's the fun part! Open up every cabinet in your kitchen, and add whatever flavorings strike your fancy. At least one should be sort of juicy. For example, I put in maybe half a large can of whole tomatoes (but I chopped the tomatoes a bit), and probably around a third of a cup of barbeque sauce (sweet style, like Jack Daniels, is best). You should also add some sort of alcohol. Red wine is very common, but we were out, so I used bourbon instead. I found it to be a fine substitute.

4. Cover the crock pot and turn it to low. That's it! You're done, you can go enjoy your day. It's best if you leave the house because in a few hours it's going to start to smell amazing, and you're going to want to open the lid to get closer to the smells, and you're also going to want to poke and prod and stir, but you mustn't!! Every time you open a cooking crock pot you need to add 20 min onto your cook time, so just leave it!

5. When at least 8 hours have gone by, cook up your grits according to the package directions, but cook them in milk instead of water. When they're just about done, stir in some butter, and shred as much extra-sharp cheddar cheese (white) as you would like (you would like a lot) into the pot. Salt and pepper, bien sur!

6. Spoon the grits onto your plate, and top with the short ribs and veggies. The veggies will be less identifiable as such, but they're in there, I swear! The short ribs will have cooked way down, and should now be super tender and falling apart-like.

Yes, this.

7. You've been waiting all day! Dig in already!

Glamour Mag(ic)!

2010-03-08T17:02:00.000-05:00

I hope you all enjoyed your soup! I know I did. There will be more Ph.Dishes (with pictures!) very soon--I've got to get in all my wintry meals before it's too warm for things like slow-cooked short ribs with cheesy grits!

For now, though, let's get back to some career issues, and by "issues" I mean "journal issues." Glamour journals, to be specific--Science, Nature, Cell, etc. You know! They're kind of a big deal. Having a Glamour Mag publication on your CV is often considered to be an indication of extreme hotness; your work is cutting edge, important, and interesting to pretty much everybody (HA)! For a young investigator, it may play an important part in whether potential employers want to interview you, or in whether your Pathway to Independence grant gets funded (or, in my case, even scored).

Biochem Belle has an open thread going right now that asks whether it's better, in general, to have one S/N/C paper or a couple of solid PNASes or JBCs. Her commenters so far seem to be leaning toward the latter option, including one who's been reviewing many job applications. If this is actually reflective of the attitudes of the science community as a whole, then I'd be very happy, because as Zen points out, some of us might never have a Glamour Mag paper.

Does this mean that I'm not doing hot science that's relevant and important to the world? Of course not. Are all my publications in Neuroreport? Not a one. I'm just a little...niche-y, that's all. I'm totally happy with my niche, and having projects that aren't part of my lab's primary grants has afforded me a level of independence that other trainees don't necessarily have. The downside, though, is that I may have missed out on being on a higher-profile paper or two. And until recently, I was comfortable with the trade-off.

Look, I know you won't believe me when I say this, but I never cared all that much about having a Glamour Mag paper. As long as I've had the means to ask the questions I wanted to ask and got the work into solidly respected journals, I've been happy. I've been asked to speak at conferences, won "Best Poster" and travel awards, got Ye Olde NRSA...the cap's got some feathers, you understand?

But to continue the metaphor, my cap is missing that big shiny jewel (or really rare and exquisite feather) that is or isn't a must, depending on who you ask. So I'm asking you: in the current job market, is it even worth sending in applications without a Glamour pub? And if it's unlikely that S/N/C will be publishing a Dr Becca first author any time soon, what's a niche-y gal to do?

Ph.Dishes - French Onion Soup!

2010-02-28T03:30:00.003-05:00

I'm taking a little break from stressing out about my future to bring you a new series, Ph.Dishes (yes, I really am that clever), in which I share with you something awesome that I just cooked, suitable for the scientist's wallet. Tonight I made French Onion Soup, something that literally everyone in the world likes.

To make this dish, which incorporates all four food groups, you will need the following:

unsalted butter
at least 2 large Vidallia (or sweet) onions (one per person is a good estimate)
dry white wine (whatever crap someone brought to your last party is best)
beef stock (which you can make from scratch for basically no money)
leftover baguette
shredded gruyere, or fontina, or both (kinds of cheese)

1. Cut the onions in half, and then slice them to ~1/4 inch. Save the outer peelings in a freezer bag for future chicken or beef stock, an excellent trick I learned from my good friend LM. Toss the onions in a large stock pot or dutch oven with as much butter as you are comfortable with, but at least 3 tablespoons if you're really serious about this.

2. Cook the shit out of the onions on med-low heat, adding a hearty dash of kosher salt and a little white pepper and stirring only occasionally, maybe once every 5-10 min. This is going to take at least half an hour and most likely around 45 minutes or an hour if you want them really super caramelized, so it's a good idea to make yourself a cocktail while you wait.

3. When you can't stand it anymore and have absolutely got to move on with your life, pour some white wine into the pot, enough to cover the onions. Turn the heat up and de-glaze the pan, stirring until the wine reduces and thickens, around 5 minutes.

4. Add the beef stock, enough so that you are pleased with the broth-to-onions ratio, plus a little extra to account for evaporation. Bring to a boil and turn down the heat, simmering for 15 min. Set your oven to broil, and move a rack to the top shelf. You may want to make yourself a salad here, so that you'll have some actual vegetables with your dinner, not just some butter-soaked onions that have had every last trace of nutrients beaten out of them.

5. Slice your baguette ~3/4 in, but it's not like you need to break out a ruler or anything. Also, it's totally OK if the baguette is a little stale--it's just going to soak up all that oniony goodness! Place 2 or more ceramic bowls on a cookie sheet and pour the soup in each one, stopping when the distance between the soup surface and top edge of the bowl equals the thickness of your baguette slices. Lay however many baguette slices are required to cover the soup on top, and then, with a heavy hand, cover everything with cheese.

6. Slide the whole sheet into the oven, and broil until the cheese is browned and bubbly. Don't burn yourself on the rack; I did this, and I can tell you first hand--that shit is HOTTT!!!

7. When the cheese is satisfactorily amazing-looking (trust me, you will just know), remove the cookie sheet and let the soups cool at least 15 min. You HAVE to do this, or you will have no taste buds left at all, I swear. Eat your salad; it will distract you.

8. Have 15 minutes gone by? Did you eat all your vegetables? You're sure? OK, dig in. Bon Appetit!

Tell me your feelings on the visiting lecturer gig

2010-02-26T13:17:00.000-05:00

Though I've totally come to terms with the very likely possibility that I won't get a TT position this year, I continue to search the job boards, albeit with markedly less fervor. Maybe once a week. Recently, I've seen a couple of ads for one- or two-year non-tenure track teaching positions at solid-to-excellent liberal arts schools, and I'm just wondering, is this kind of thing a good idea? For anyone?

Naturally, it would look nice on my CV if the places I apply to in the future value teaching experience. But I'd imagine it takes at least a year or three (or +++ ???) of teaching any given course to really tighten the screws, so wouldn't I expect my first year evaluations to be sort of, well, bad-ish? And what is the point of a university investing in a teacher who won't be around long enough to get the course to the awesome level?

Also, since it's a limited engagement, I'd have to spend a good amount of time during that year applying for jobs for the following year, which could take a non-trivial amount of time away from planning 4 courses per semester, no? And speaking of future positions, I'm wondering what taking a year off from lab work looks like to hiring committees at research-heavy institutions. Obviously, it's a year with no new publications, which I worry may not be compensated for by the boost in teaching experience. Or will it?

So let's hear it--are there worthwhile benefits to the 1-year teaching position for someone still interested in doing research long-term?

Continuity, or lack thereof

2010-02-22T23:21:00.001-05:00

The Scientiae Carnival, if you do not know—and I did not know until only very recently—is a collection of lady science bloggers who pick a topic each month and solicit posts on said topic from other lady science bloggers. Sometimes men are involved, too. Whoever is in charge each month organizes the responses on her (or his) own blog, pulling out all the best bits and perhaps providing a bit of commentary. For an example of a job done extremely well, check out one of my favorite lady science bloggers, Candid Engineer. Since there haven’t been too many developments in the whole job search thing that I can recount for you, I thought I’d have a go at the March edition, whose theme is “continuity.”

If you could see me right now, you’d see (among other things) that I’m smiling bemusedly. My bemusement comes from having to ponder, as a young scientist, the idea of continuity in my life, a task I might compare to asking an accountant to write on the theme of “danger.” Not only is there very little continuity in most of our lives, but we most likely--at least in the beginning--want(ed) it that way. I distinctly remember that as an undergrad, one of the things that most appealed to me about an academic science career was that for my whole life I’d always be learning something new. The questions I’d be asking at 25 would be different from those I’d ask at 35, and so on until finally, perhaps at age 95, I’d retire my named chair position and commit myself to catching up on The Sopranos. I also hoped that maybe I could spend some time living in Paris. Paris, je t’aime!

In this respect, science has not let me down. My quest for discontinuity has led me across the country and back (though not to Paris….yet). I’ve studied humans, rats, rat brains, rat brain cells, and rat brain cell parts (OK, so perhaps there’s one point of continuity here). And like I imagined, I’ve gotten to ask all kinds of questions, travel, meet new people, and learn just tons. Discontinuity like this is nice. Similarly, the discontinuity we may encounter in the lab on a daily basis, while often maddening (I can think of a particular method that I would presently like to shoot in the face if methods had faces), can be good in the long run. It keeps us on our toes, teaches us to adapt, to troubleshoot—all things we need to be awesome scientists.

However, sometimes I want a little continuity, and of course I’m talking about the continuity of money being added to my bank account on a regular basis. This is good continuity. And at some point in the not terribly distant future, I’d like the feeling of knowing I’m where I’ll be living until I’m that 95 year-old parked in front of the TV. These continuities, though…are a current source of worrying. I don’t know if my boss will have money to keep me around for much more than another year, and I don’t know if I’ll get a TT job by then, either. Even if I do, I’m headed for some major discontinuity no matter which way you slice it. It’s both scary and exciting. All I can do is take advantage of what good continuities and discontinuities I’ve got, and hope I end up in the right place.

On being a post-doc, generally speaking

2010-02-15T16:06:00.000-05:00

Post-docs. We're everywhere! We didn't used to be, but now that we are, we have...let's say...varying ideas about what we believe our lives should be like vs. what they are actually like. Some people think that doing a post-doc is awesome, and some think it is not so awesome. Some think it's a necessary part of the selection process. Some wonder whether it's worth doing at all.

I have some thoughts on my own post-doc experience, but I need to get something out of the way first. Please, let's not kid ourselves that the post-doc position came about in order to better train future PIs. Yes, we undeniably get more experience when we spend 3-6 extra years in a lab before we run one, but come on. It's not as if the Benevolent Gods of Academia were all, "we think it would be really great for you as a person and scientist if you had more training," and people in their late 20s who'd just spent ~5 years in grad school were like, "Hey, FANTASTIC idea! I'm so glad you have my best interests in mind." No. People started doing post-docs because at a certain point in the last 50 or 60 years, universities (collectively) started giving out more PhDs than they had TT job openings, a situation that only seems to be worsening. Correcting for things like technological advances and shifts in funding paylines, are today's junior faculty substantially more productive and successful than the junior faculty of the 1950s, most of whom (if not all) came straight from grad school? Are their labs better run because of their post-doc experiences? Do they flail less when they first start out? I have no idea, really, but I sort of doubt it.

The major question that seems to be coming out of the current post-doc discussions in the blogosphere is this:

Is doing a post-doc the best of times or the worst of times? Should we be grateful for the opportunity to have more training, meet more people, see more of the world, and get more done before being completely independent? Or should we be bitter that despite what geniuses we all are, we're in a low-paying position with no job security--a position whose term is getting even longer? And is our answer to these questions a product of our own decisions and choices, or is there an element of privilege and luck?

Science-wise, my post-doc years have been great. My lab is well-funded, I've had lots of freedom when it comes to experiments, and my labmates are brilliant and helpful and fun to be around. But can I take credit for my situation? Is it because I "did my homework" and carefully shopped around for a lab that I felt wouldn't take advantage of me? Not at all; I was insanely lucky. I'm sort of embarrassed to describe my post-doc search, but here goes: I was maybe 10 months away from graduating, and had just had a sort of big paper come out (I was on TV!). I sent an email to the person who's arguably #1 in my sub-field, attaching the paper and my CV, and expressing interest in doing a post-doc with him. He invited me for an interview, and when I was done giving my talk I was told I'd be an excellent match for the lab. The end.

Obviously, this is not everyone's experience. Some people have a real shit time of a post-doc, despite putting in the time visiting labs, talking to people, trying to find a good environment. And that sucks. Unfortunately, there are evil bosses everywhere--both in and outside academia--and our ability to avoid or escape them is only partially in our control, especially in a bad economy.

Speaking of the economy/money, there's also this: We worked so hard! We are so educated! We are around 30 years old! Why can't we afford a normal grown-up life? This is a valid complaint, and the first person (and all subsequent) who says "you didn't become a scientist to get rich" is banned from my blog FOREVER. No one is whining about not being able to buy a yacht; it would be nice, though, to feel like I'm making a dent in my undergrad loans. As it becomes more and more common to have to do one's post-doc well into one's 30s and things like significant others, children, and aging parents necessarily (yes, necessarily) factor into our life decisions, I fear the academic science track might ultimately become what the unpaid internship is for the post-college set: a luxury for people with outside means.

The major source of most of these problems, like I mentioned earlier, is that there are too many of us. Why is this not being addressed, though? Would it fucking kill the NIH to run some stats on PhDs granted vs. assistant professor hires each year, and adjust their grad program training grant awards accordingly? Or even slightly? Could we maybe lessen grant support for crazy factory labs with 20 post-docs, only one of whom might get a job because they happened to solve their protein structure first?

I'm not saying that working your way to tenure track shouldn't be competitive or hard. But is the current situation the best for science as a whole? Or have we gotten to the point where we're not simply letting the cream rise to the top anymore, but selecting for people in a particular set of circumstances, forcing some of what might have been cream to find another churn?

We will not be acting further on your application

2010-02-04T13:31:00.001-05:00

There is something so charmingly anachronistic in how, despite the entire application process being electronic, I'm receiving hand-signed letters of rejection in my mailbox. I'm all for the personal touch, but really, why bother? It costs money--both in stamps and in high-quality watermarked university letterhead--and time; 497 signatures simply cannot, nor should be, done in one sitting. Carpal tunnel, you know (though you could always blame it on the sex). Plus it's bad for the environment, as I am not one of those people who keep their rejection letters as some sort of ironic trophy. My most recent is on a barge to a New Jersey landfill, I am sure of it.

To date, the number of official no-thank-you's is a surprisingly small two, but I can't imagine that this is an accurate representation of the number of departments that have decided not to act further on my application. Or does everyone send these letters? I had sort of presumed that the radio silence from, well, everywhere else was an indication that They're Just Not That Into Me, but should I still be holding out some hope? Fat lady sings, etc?

Feel free to answer these questions in the comments without regard to my feelings or whatever. I've come to the full realization that I really have no idea how any of this works, because it's different everywhere. All I can do is get my work done and try to put another manuscript together by the time the next hiring cycle comes around......or is there something else I can do? Again, fire away!

Learning to Write about Science with Carl Zimmer

2010-01-28T16:32:00.003-05:00

Earlier this week I took the Metro-North up to New Haven to attend a science writing workshop with Carl Zimmer, who's written thousands and thousands of amazing sciency words for the New York Times and Discover Magazine. He gave us an assignment for the 2nd part of the class, meeting next Monday, and I'd love your feedback! Our instructions were simply to write a piece aimed at lay people describing one of two recent findings reported in Science. The one I chose was:

Global Signatures and Dynamical Origins of the Little Ice Age and Medieval Climate Anomaly
Michael E. Mann, Zhihua Zhang, Scott Rutherford, Raymond S. Bradley, Malcolm K. Hughes, Drew Shindell, Caspar Ammann, Greg Faluvegi, and Fenbiao Ni Science 27 November 2009 326: 1256-1260

Let me know what you think!!

A Global Thermostat

Sir Galahad was hot—literally. Not because of poorly ventilated castles or armor that didn't breathe well, but because the legendary knight lived in a time during which, according to climatologists, the earth’s northern hemisphere experienced unusually warm temperatures. This warming, which lasted from approximately 950 to 1250 CE, is known as the Medieval Climate Anomaly (MCA), and new research revealing regional differences in the earth’s surface temperature during the MCA may help us better understand current global warming trends.
            Determining the weather conditions of a thousand years ago isn’t easy. Daily temperature recording wasn’t commonplace until the mid-19^th century, so today’s scientists rely on information that can be gathered from natural sources that have survived for hundreds, or even thousands, of years. These sources, called “proxies,” include tree rings, oxygen content in coral, and water molecule structure in ice from deep within the polar caps. Until recently, proxies have only allowed researchers to estimate past temperature change on a very broad scale, providing information about the earth as a whole, or in some cases, its hemispheres. However, a team headed by Penn State climatologist Michael Mann has been able to combine data gathered from an array of proxies to construct a more focused picture.
            Mann’s group looked at two distinct periods: the MCA, and what’s known as the Little Ice Age (LIA), a period of uncharacteristic cold that spanned from about 1400 to 1700 CE. Unlike in previous studies, they were able to see differences in temperature patterns at a regional level, rather than global or hemispheric. Mann’s reconstruction for the MCA showed distinct warm patterns over much of North America, the North Atlantic, and some of Western Europe, all of which was expected. However, when they looked at the temperature of the eastern tropical Pacific area, they saw something surprising—it was cold.
            In fact, this part of the Pacific was colder during the MCA than during the LIA, a finding that may initially seem counter-intuitive.   Colder temperatures in the tropical Pacific are commonly referred to as “La Niña,” (the flip side of El Niño, when the tropical Pacific is particularly warm) and are often associated with increased rainfall in much of the United States, as well as increase snowfall in Canada. Mann’s findings suggest that the eastern tropical Pacific may act as a kind of global thermostat, adjusting to extreme swings in the earth’s temperature in an attempt to restore balance to the climate.
One thousand years ago, before cars and Styrofoam and other human-created sources of greenhouse gases, these swings were almost certainly caused by natural occurrences, like suppressed volcanic activity and changes in the intensity of the sun. Over the last 100 years the Northern Hemisphere has experienced a remarkable spike in surface temperature, presumably due at least in part to human activity. The question now facing climatologists is whether we can expect a response in the tropical Pacific comparable to that of the MCA, and what such a response would mean in terms of flooding, drought, and other potentially destructive weather patterns. Hopefully, Mann’s model will provide some answers.

Science Mag: Late to the party and a total buzzkill

2010-01-26T10:02:00.000-05:00

In news of the obvious, Science recently printed a piece entitled "Tenure-Track Jobs Remain Scarce." It describes the phenomenon in which experienced post-docs, unable to land a TT offer, go and do a second post-doc. I presume you're familiar. At first I thought it was a new-decade flashback kind of thing--you know, where they print articles from several years ago out of nostalgia for the aughts? But then I realized that no, this is current. Current, yes; new, no.

The piece reads like this:

1. It's hard to get a job.
2. Because there are no jobs.
3. Because universities have no money.
4. Stimulus package money helped a little, but not that much, plus it's all gone anyway, so...not that much.
5. Q: "Where will all the scientists go?"
A: Europe, but actually only a few of us will do that.
6. We. Are. FUCKED.

Oh, really?

What I find interesting about this article is that it highlights the fact that universities less affected by the economic downturn are able to have their pick of the litter when it comes to TT applicants. Well!! How nice for them!! There is a silver lining after all! It reminds me of all the articles that came out when the economy started tanking that covered how shitty life was for everyone who had lost their jobs or had their hours cut or whatever, but for those unaffected, there were some fabulous deals to be had on seriously reduced luxury items!

What I also find interesting is that there are no solutions offered. Not even a suggestion that anyone, anywhere is working on it. This on the heels of news that NIH will be passing the buck with respect to funding young researchers (go read MsPhD's and DrugMonkey's assessments of Francis Collins's announcement), and it's all one can do not to throw up one's hands in despair.

One thing I've noticed since I've started blogging is that although there are dozens of really amazing post-doc bloggers, I haven't found anyone else who's actively talking about their own job search. Are you out there? Even if you're not a blogger, but just a reader, I'd love to hear how things are going for others in my position. I can't be the only one; if I were, I'd probably have a job by now.

Extreme Makeover: Blog and Grant edition

2010-01-20T16:25:00.001-05:00

While y'all were down in NC this weekend at ScienceOnline2010, meeting each other IRL and watching videos of duck penises**, I was home in rainy New York with an icky cold and a grant to revise. Naturally, I found it the perfect opportunity to teach myself a little HTML/CSS and start watching Lost. Inspired by Biochem Belle and her blog's fancy new look, I checked out BTemplates for something that felt more like me than the standard Blogger template. I found one that I almost liked completely called "Extreme Georgia," and then through lots of trial and error figured out how to tweak the font and colors to better suit my liking. HTML is the sort of thing I imagine is actually super easy if you have even the tiniest smidgen of baseline knowledge, but with zero, I assure you, it is quite boggling. But persevere I did, and as you can see, OTM:FTTT is now different, but similar. Didn't want to freak anyone out; did want to incorporate my favorite font (Futura--coincidentally, same font as Lost logo!).

With that and 10 hours of fuselage, polar bears, and SECRETS SECRETS OMG SO MANY SECRETS!!!! under my belt, it was time to turn my 20-page, 5-year K99 proposal into a 2-page, 2-year NARSAD proposal. This is not just a little fat-trimming here, we're talking major surgery: face lift, eye job, tummy tuck, lipo--the works. I had to pick out the sexiest parts of the K99 and sculpt them into a perfect, tight little package of hot science that could feasibly be done in two years. Not an easy task, no indeed (how excellent is this expression, btw? I was so confused when I first heard it, back when the SfN meeting used to be in New Orleans).

Now, I could have just gone and taken Specific Aim 1 from the K99 and called it a day, but let's be honest: Specific Aim 1 is the boring Specific Aim. Oh sure, it sets things up, lays the groundwork for things to come, but as a self-contained idea is often lacking in hotness. If I'm going to get some clinically-relevant, high-impact-style data out of this grant, I've gotta go straight to the money shot: Specific Aim 3. Luckily, my proposal was not set up such that I needed definitive answers from the first two Aims in order to do the third, so I didn't need to re-work things too much.

But two pages, man, that is KILLER. I think the last time I had to write a two-page anything was in my freshman writing course, which occurred during the Clinton administration (first term). Add in the fact that I'm restricted to just 10 citations, and I basically have to find someone who's done my exact experiments already so as to keep my methods as succinct as possible.

Painful though it may have been, I think writing this grant was a great exercise. When you're so constricted, you're forced to be clear and to the point, rather than blathering on about the entire history of your field and how monumentally important your research is. Your ideas need to speak for themselves, rather than you speaking for your ideas. This is going to prove incredibly useful the next time I apply for a grant from NIH, which recently cut the page limit of its grant applications in half, much to the chagrin of long-winded scientists everywhere. But for me, 6 or 12 pages is going to feel downright luxurious!

**Hot damn did you love those duck penises! Twitter was so full of your tweets during Carl Zimmer's presentation I'm amazed "duck penis" wasn't a bona fide trending topic. For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, click the "duck" link at the top, and scroll down to the video. It just might blow your mind.

Summer Student Situation

2010-01-14T10:46:00.001-05:00

I don't know if it's my biological clock or what, but I've just had to turn down what are probably two very excellent summer high school students, and my heart is totally breaking.

An email popped up earlier this week from a PI in a different department in my institution, saying I'd been recommended as a possible mentor for these two high school students who were interested in neuroscience. I scrolled through the string of emails to see who recommended me, and it was a PI in my department who I don't know very well at all, but who described me as "stellar." Well! I see my reputation precedes me.

Below that email was an email that included mini-statements from the students, and WOW. High school students are reading primary source journal articles these days? I went to one of the best (public) high schools in my state, and I think I had maybe heard of the amygdala. Maybe. These kids can more articulately describe their interests (which substantially overlap with my own) than many grad students I've encountered, and oh, how I want to adopt them! I want to take them under my wing and teach them stereotaxic surgery and run a journal club and I can't help but imagine we'd all have the Best Summer Ever.

Unfortunately, this is pretty much the Worst Summer Ever to take on a good times mentoring gig. First off, though I think it's unlikely that I'll get an offer for the fall, it hasn't been definitively ruled out, so I may not even be here this summer. Assuming I don't get an offer, I then need to kick so much ass and be crazy productive to try to get another paper at least in press (or, more realistically, submitted) by the time the next hiring cycle comes around. The students would only be here for 4-6 weeks, which is not really enough time to train them to the point where they'd actually be helping me; it's just not that compatible with kicking so much ass. Finally, most of the work I'll be doing this summer will be computer-y stuff, not fun animal experiments, so even if I were to take them on as helpers, they likely wouldn't be doing anything they actually find interesting.

Sigh. Bon chance, little students! I'm sorry the timing was completely wrong for us to be together. Look me up when you've (started and) finished college and are looking for PhD advisors, mkay?

Quick Question

2010-01-04T17:06:00.000-05:00

Right, so when you email one of the search committee heads to let them know they can update your CV to include your hot new IN PRESS manuscript, is it at all overreacting to have feelings of joy when he replies that he was about to email you to see if you were still interested in the position?

Just asking.

2010 is already looking good!

2009-12-31T13:07:00.001-05:00

While the rest of you were nursing your hangovers last New Year's Day, I was submitting a manuscript. And now, literally one day shy of an entire year later, that manuscript has finally been ACCEPTED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Huzzahhhhhhh!!

The massive, venomous, 10-gauge thorn in my side has at long last been ripped out, and it is just the best!! I want to run through the snowy Brooklyn streets shouting "PA-PER! PA-PER!" pumping my fists in the air like someone who just won a marathon. I want to dance like this guy.

Tonight we are having a little birthday party for J (steak tartare, shrimp cocktail, endive w/ blue cheese, mixed olives, fromage plate, and tiramisu!), and now we get to celebrate this as well! I have a feeling that New Year's Day 2010 will be enormously different from New Year's Day 2009, meaning that I will be nursing a hangover, not submitting a manuscript.

Happy New Year, everyone!

I am officially on vacation: Holiday Fun and New Year's Resolutions

2009-12-22T23:46:00.001-05:00

To those of you with blogs, aren't traffic tracking programs the most amazing and fun thing? Today Google Analytics informed me that I had a visitor from Wasilla, Alaska, and I SO hope it was SP!!! Does she still live there? I don't even know. But it wouldn't surprise me in the least if, in addition to the many publications she reads both in print and online, Inside Higher Ed (which recently linked to my last entry and generated much of today's traffic) were part of her daily routine.

So much negativity in the last few posts! I don't like it, no I do not. I am mostly of the philosophy that there's very little use in being depressed about stuff--either there's nothing you can do about it, so what's the point in wasting energy feeling sad, or there is something you can do about it, so go do that thing and stop feeling sorry for yourself! Plus, nobody likes a downer, especially around the holidays.

Speaking of the holidays, we had a really fun party in my department. My PI is a bit of a wine guy, so whoever goes shopping for the booze always tries to impress him and we end up with some pretty nice wine. No Yellowtail in this department, no sir. Also, we have a new chair who's pretty cool. He became a whole lot cooler when, during his reading of the raffle winners, demanded a cheer for the New York Yankees. I cheered the loudest, I'm pretty sure. Never hurts to have the chair on your side, you know? Especially when you need things signed.

Also speaking of the holidays, I am leaving early Thursday morning to spend Christmas with J's family in the heart of the midwest. I've never been there, and am looking forward to meeting everyone, and to seeing what that which I usually describe as "fly-over country" is like. I hear there's a Red Lobster, and having never actually been to a Red Lobster (I know!!! I am apparently missing out on cheddar biscuits?), I'm pretty excited. Also, I'm maybe going to make latkes for the grandparents, so that they can better appreciate my faith. I mean, can you think of a better introduction to any religion than deep-fried potatoes and onions? No, you can not. Being Jewish is awesome!!!!! Did I mention that on Passover we are required to have 4 glasses of wine? And by "required" I mean, "required by God"!!

Back to the subject of going and doing that thing (or things) that can change the stuff you are sad about--my resolutions for 2010:

1. Ask more questions. One of the effects of my multi-institution post-doc has been that I've maybe been too independent. I go in, I do my thing, I get out, without talking at length with people in each lab about theories behind everything, possible variations, etc. As a result, I'd say I know less about the things I've done than I should. I now resolve to have more conversations. This is what scientists do, no?

2. Stop delegating, and do it myself. I've been very lucky in the last several years to have some amazing people in the lab who are basically there to do whatever I ask of them. I am very good at asking them to do things, but of course, this means that I don't know how to do those things. I just say, "thank you for ordering that antibody" or "thank you for doing all of that incredibly painful microscope work. You will be second author." In 2010, I am doing all of the fucking microscope work.

3. Read more papers. Seriously, what is wrong with me? I only just got my Google Reader to update when my PubMed searches have a new listing. But now that I have that, there is no excuse for not knowing everything that is coming out of my field.

In sum, I want to be a better scientist in 2010. It's almost embarrassing that these are my resolutions 10 years out from matriculating at my grad school, but I have to think that it's better late than never. Right?

On having one's career dreams quashed by a PoS journal editor

2009-12-14T12:57:00.000-05:00

Arg. I've been going back and forth in my brain as to whether or not to actually post this, because I'd like to think that I'm self-aware enough to know to keep the whining to a minimum. Everyone has their publishing struggles.

BUT

This blog is about my career. And while I wish every aspect of my career could be described using only self-deprecating humor and charming stories re: The Follies of Youth, that's just not the way it works. In the immortal words of PhysioProf, Academic Science is not a Care Bears Fucking Tea Party, and never is that more patently clear than when you're approaching the one-year anniversary of the submission of a manuscript to a journal that is still reviewing it.

So be warned, and get your dialing fingers ready: someone needs a waaahmbulance. Read at your own discretion.

There's this paper, you see. A paper that contains nearly three years of work--novel, rigorous, and award-winning-at-conferences work--that I submitted for publication to a medium-high impact journal nearly one year ago. I'd just had a related paper accepted relatively easily in this journal, and thought they'd be happy to have the follow-up, which was much more interesting. The reviewers' comments were brief and favorable, with one saying they'd like a histological figure demonstrating that our surgeries were accurate, and the other saying--literally--that they were "unable to find any methodological problems with the study," but that they'd like a list of abbreviations. The paper was rejected.

Now, I know that a journal isn't obligated to take the advice of the reviewers, but I feel like if they're going to do that, you should at least get some kind of explanation for the glaring discrepancy between reviewer comments and editor's decision, instead of the form rejection letter stating that the reviewers had substantial concerns when that was obviously not the case. My PI and I were floored that such positive reviews could result in an outright rejection, and we naturally wrote a very polite "WTF???" (if I may paraphrase) letter to the editor, asking that he reconsider and allow us to resubmit. He said sure, but we'd have to change the title and he'd be sending it out to a new set of reviewers. We agreed, but we shouldn't have.

The next review took 3.5 months. Three and a half months!! An entire season came and went, and I could do nothing but sit and wait like a chump. When the decision finally came back, it had comments from FIVE reviewers. FIVE!! Much more critical and lengthy than before, but not rejected this time. We could only conclude, then, that this journal makes its decisions not according to the reviewers' comments, but through randomized-trial questioning of the Magic 8-ball.

Reply hazy, try again.
Cannot predict now.
Outlook not so good.

After a thorough revision we resubmitted, and waited another 2 months. This time, the non-rejection decision letter came with a loooong message from the managing editor claiming that despite all of our revisions the paper was still not satisfactory, and for him to accept it as it was, he would have to lower the standards of the journal. Really, was that necessary? He could have just said, "one of our reviewers still has several concerns that need to be addressed," but he just had to be a dick about it. He also demonstrated that, after what was now almost 10 months of dealing with a paper titled "Factor Q affects factor R in brain region A," he was under the impression that we were studying brain region Z.

Now, I do not toss around the term douchebag lightly, but seriously. This guy and his inflated ego can't even manage to read the title of my paper, and then feels it appropriate to condescend like that? I'd have loved to be able to just say "fuck 'em" and try a different journal, but after so much time had gone by, I didn't think I could risk going through it all again somewhere else. So back in it went after another revison...and we're still waiting.

The problem is that in a lot of ways, my career is hinging on this paper. It contains half of the work I've done as a post-doc, and until it's published, I'm not going to look like a super-productive scientist. The fact that it was reviewed so favorably the first time around but not given an opportunity for a "revise and re-review" is killing me, because things might be so different for me now.

I know that journals don't owe any single author anything, but the lack of accountability in the publishing process is really frustrating. That a journal can allow its reviewers to take nearly 4 months to submit their comments is ludicrous, and that a managing editor feels it appropriate to write a misinformed, insulting, and all-around unprofessional decision letter is, frankly, outrageous. What's worse is that in taking so long with each review, they've put me in a position where there's nothing I can do but sit there and take it. I'm their bitch. Boo.

Erm...thanks for listening to me rant. It felt good to get it all off my chest and down in writing, because when I try to talk about it, I'm often unable to speak.

Time for a Backup Plan?

2009-12-06T12:50:00.001-05:00

You know, when I applied to grad school, I wasn't certain I'd get in. I had virtually no support system, having moved across the country after graduating college with no job, no apartment, no plan, really--just a goldfish, a laptop and a dream. I volunteered a couple of mornings a week in a psychology lab, helping a grad student with a project I loathed. The PI was never there, and when he was around he was so cold I was almost too intimidated to ask him for a recommendation letter. The silver lining of the experience was that it helped me decide not to apply to psych programs, but to neuroscience ones. After the last application went out, I thought to myself, "Self, what if we don't get in? What then?" After careful thought, I decided that if no one wanted me I would move to Italy and pull espresso. Seriously. This was my backup plan.

It recently occurred to me that I need to wrap my head around the ~~possibility~~ ~~likelihood~~ (???????) that I won't get an offer this year. I might not even get an interview. And unlike eleven years ago, I'm not quite prepared to chuck the whole science thing and flee the country. So...what's the backup plan now?

I sat down with my PI Thursday morning to discuss My Future, a conversation I now fully acknowledge I should have been having regularly for the last 3 years.* I told him that I wanted to do what I could to ensure that, should I not make anybody's short list this time around, I looked super hot next cycle. We decided, to my delight, that I should teach. I'm going to deliver several lectures for one of the graduate student core neuro classes next semester, and I'm so excited. I love teaching, I'm a good public speaker...this is going to be really good for me. I'm also going to take part in a side project of sorts, which should get my name on another paper--also good.

There's another option, too--and I would really like your advice here--which is that I could be promoted to the "Instructor" position. The term itself is pretty meaningless, but I think most institutions have something comparable to this limbo-like title (funny, I used to refer to the post-doc as the limbo-like position) for people who have been post-docs for a while. I'd get a raise, and I'd be eligible to apply for more grants, both of which would be cool. But my question is this: does it make me look past my prime to have a title like this? Are search committees biased toward people who are genuine post-docs, or is the name irrelevant?

I'm of course not giving up on the prospect of getting a job this cycle--I'll continue to check the job boards and apply to anything that seems even remotely up my alley. I'm just being realistic, and honestly, it feels really good. You know, now that I think about it, all of these plans aren't really backup plans at all...they're more like forward-thinking plans. Much better.

*I'm now realizing that having an NRSA made me a little...complacent. My project was part of a large, 3-institution grant that made nearly limitless resources available to me, and I flitted happily from lab to lab like a honey bee in a flower bed, doing whatever experiments my heart desired. It was awesome. But while three years of funding may seem like a long time when you're first starting out, it is, as it turns out, not. And with my NRSA having run its course and the main grant expiring next fall, suddenly My Future is a lot less secure.

Did I inherit my sciency-ness?

2009-11-27T23:42:00.000-05:00

After a fun-filled Thanksgiving jaunt this week to fabulous New England, J and I are back in NYC and in for the night, wrought with guilt over leaving our kitties alone for 3 days. They were less than pleased at having been abandoned, and greeted us with their patented Evil Kitty Death Stare:

I know this has nothing to do with my job search or even science, but hey, it's a holiday weekend; things are a little slow.

Anyway, when I was home I got to talk shop with my mom, and by "shop" I don't mean "turkey basting techniques" or "Nordstrom's Christmas Sale," I mean science! My mom is a scientist too, and I think that's so cool. For totally boring reasons she didn't finish her PhD, so she doesn't have her own lab. However, she does hold a senior position in a lab at a very Classy Institution where she does all kinds of exciting research--awesome, futuristic stuff that honestly does not seem all that far off from seriously saving lives.

What's interesting is that when I think about it, I don't think I became a scientist because of her. Sure, I went to visit her lab all the time when I was growing up, but I can't think of a point where it ever occurred to me that lab work was something I'd like to pursue, too; that all came much later, and at least in my recollection, it was totally organic. Plus, I kind of hated science when I was in high school.

And yet, here I am! Is it a coincidence? Or is an aptitude and love for science something we inherit, even if we don't consciously realize it, and even if it isn't actively cultivated in us? I'm curious as to how many of you scientists also have parents who are scientists. If they are, how big a role do you think they played in your choice to pursue a similar path?

One area in which my mom did play a huge role was where I ultimately went to grad school. Because I am a location snob, I hadn't planned on applying there. But she sent me a Science article she'd come across that was published by one of this Classy Institution's faculty, with a note that said "Isn't this what you're interested in? This is a great school--you should apply!" She was right, of course, so I did apply, and I of course had an amazing experience whilst getting a top-notch education. So then, to the extent that my graduate school made me the scientist I am (which I can confidently say is a non-trivial extent), I have my mom to thank for leading me there. Thanks, mom!

Hmm... writing this post has put me in the mood to dance around singing this:

Interview with a new-hire

2009-11-20T14:47:00.000-05:00

I opened my inbox recently to find a mass email from someone I'd known in grad school. He was in a different program and I wouldn't say we were good friends, but if life is a Venn diagram--and oh, it is--our circles most definitely overlapped. I hadn't spoken to him since I left, but it seems he's done very well for himself in that time, because the purpose of the email was to notify apparently everyone on the planet that he'd just taken a faculty position at a very Classy Institution here in the city. I had two thoughts:

1. Three words, dude. Blind. Carbon. Copy. Perhaps you're familiar?
2. I have got to pick this guy's brain.

So I sent him a quick email congratulating him on his new job and asking if we could grab coffee so I could grill him on his techniques and strategies for successfully navigating the current market. He happily agreed, and we met up yesterday at the local Pain Quotidien for a little tartine and tenure-track talk.

The first piece of advice he offered was, "Be sure to have multiple offers, so you have some negotiating leverage." First, not last. I cleared my throat and asked if we might back up a few steps? As it turns out, his story is quite awesome, and his path somewhat unconventional. Apparently he hadn't been planning on looking for jobs until this current cycle, but last spring he was invited to give a job talk at one of NYCs Classy Institutions. When that went well, he thought it might be a good idea to shop himself around a bit, so he asked friends and friends of friends if they knew of any departments that were also looking, sent out a few CVs, gave a few more talks, and here he is, just a few months later, an Assistant Professor with what I understand to be a ridiculously kick ass start-up package.

Now, this guy is a real superstar. His research is achingly (and I mean achingly) sexy, and he has genuine expertise in very specific and powerful techniques. He was surprisingly modest, attributing his success partly to being in the right place at the right time with respect to his post-doc work. This may be true, but I think that he also recognized that he was in the right place at the right time, and knew how to take advantage of that.

But additionally, he must have had some good interviewing skills, so I asked him about that. He said that everyone is going to ask you where you see yourself in five years, so to be very, very prepared to answer that in as concrete terms as possible--meaning, knowing exactly what sciencey questions you want to have answered, what techniques you'll use, how that will set you up for work further down the line...etc. You have to have your life all planned out, essentially. No biggie. This is fine for me, actually; since the research proposal part of my K99 application was well-received, I in fact do have a 5-year research plan that I know well and am excited to talk about.

When I got home, I checked the job boards and there was a new one: THE job. The ad said something like, "we have two open faculty positions in the area of Dr Becca's Big Ideas." I mean really, it's like they read my K99 proposal and created the job (two of them!) just for me. I am so excited to apply for this job I almost can't sit still. The ad states that I have up to 4 pages to describe my research, which is a lot, and means I can really hash out my plans. I am going to wow the pants off that search committee!

PS--are you dying from how clever the title of this post is? I'm really patting myself on the back, here.

Summary Statement Summary

2009-11-14T12:17:00.003-05:00

I had been told that it would take at least 6 weeks for my K99 Summary Statement (a composite of the reviewers' comments) to come, but instead it took 6 days. I suppose that if there's one thing that can be said for the NIH, it's that they're certainly efficient when it comes to bringing the bad news.

Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut...........

It wasn't really all bad news. At all. I mean, yes, of course, the grant was still unscored, but I feel much better about why. As it turns out, Comrade PhysioProf was mostly right--the major problem was my publication record, which is decent but not awesome, and lacking with respect to a glamour journal paper. This is an unfortunate result of a certain journal taking three months and then four months and then two months to get back to me with reviews for what will be my second peer-reviewed post-doc paper, a labor of love that contains over three years of work. But I don't need to explain this to you; I should have explained it to my study section.

Briefly, the scoring works like this: I'm graded by three different reviewers on a scale of 1-9 with 1 being the best in five different areas:

Candidate (that's me!)
Training Plan (the myriad essays I wrote about my career goals and my plans for achieving them)
Research Plan (the actual experiments I proposed)
Mentors (how prepared my mentor is to help guide me to independence)
Environment (how Classy is my Institution? Does it have the resources to help me get my work done?)

I received pretty much equal parts 1s, 2s, 3s, 4s, and 5s, with the biggest issues aside from my publishing being a not completely well-thought out Training Plan, and a concern that my proposed research for the independent phase of the award would not be significantly different from that of my mentors (I disagree with this). My Mentors and Environment are completely kick-ass, so high scores in those sections were expected, but the reviewers also seemed to like my Research Plan quite a bit, which made me so, so happy. I am a good science thinker!!! I'm going to share with you the best quote:

"The strength of these experiments lies in the hypothesis, the ability of the candidate to conduct the studies, and the elegant and appropriate approach to answer the question at hand."

Fuck. Yeah. There is probably no word scientists want to hear other people use to describe their work more than the word "elegant" (except, perhaps, "fundable"). This is a great compliment, and was a nice little ego boost yesterday because I really do love the proposal, and am very proud of the ideas in it.

My biggest mistake in how I handled the application was not giving myself enough time to write it. By, like, several years. It's funny, when I received the email three years ago from NIH congratulating me on being awarded an NRSA grant, it included a note suggesting I start applying for the K99. I was like, are they crazy?? I just got a grant, why would I apply for another one???? I'mma go do me some experiments!! So I did some experiments and time went by, and then all of a sudden my NRSA was almost up! With just under a month until the deadline, I began to work on the K99. Totally fine, I thought, I can crank this out in 25 days. But then I learned that the grants and contracts office at my Classy Institution needed everything in 2 weeks in advance, completely polished and finished. Oh.

First I had a heart attack, and then I LOCKED IN and wrote the damn thing in ten days. I would have just put it off to the next cycle, but at that point I would have been right on the cusp of not being eligible, and I didn't want to risk it. It's really no surprise, then, that there were parts of my application that weren't as perfectly put together as they needed to be, though I thought that for ten days' writing, it was pretty impressive. However, NOBODY CARES. It had to be a perfect application and it wasn't even close, and that is nobody's fault but mine.

So, some lessons learned, and advice to those of you who anticipate applying for a K99:

1. START EARLY. Like now. And talk to people--your PI, other PIs in your group, PIs outside of your Classy Institution. Get many many perspectives on your proposal, and go through multiple rounds of proofreading--different people will catch different mistakes (no one caught that I apparently neglected to state the age of my animals, which is just stupid).

2. Devote a substantial amount of time to your Career Development/Training Plan statements; these are a big deal, and were one of my weaknesses. It's not enough to say "I want my own lab where I can study all of these totally fascinating things." You have to explain how you're going to get there, plus how you're going to develop all other kinds of PI-type skills, like grant and manuscript writing, teaching, lab management, etc. Your mentor's statement should include points about how he or she will help you do these things. What's frustrating is that I know I could have done a much better job with these had I been more responsible about when I started working on the application.

3. Know your weaknesses, and actively defend or explain them. Obviously, I was aware that my publication record was not impressive, but instead of acknowledging that, I naively hoped that my fancy pedigree and cool science would override the blemish. In retrospect, I should have included a statement somewhere explaining the nature of the work I've been doing (giant, comprehensive, long-term studies), and why I don't have as many big publications as you might expect of someone who's been a post-doc in my lab for as long as I have. Something like that may not have made all the difference, but I think it would have helped.

Week in Review

2009-11-07T11:46:00.001-05:00

It's been quite a week.

After a rough Saturday night processing the fact that my K-99 was in the bottom half of the applicant pool, I was feeling better Sunday. I screamed myself hoarse at the NYC marathon (and really, there is little that does a better job of making your problems seem insignificant than when there are thousands of people--especially those who are older than your parents and/or missing limbs--streaming by you who are Running. Twenty-six. Miles.), and then came home to cook all afternoon for a mini dinner party J and I were having that night. I love entertaining, and there's something about all the prep work for a party that I love almost as much as the party itself, so I was a happy camper chopping veggies and whatnot for a couple of hours.

Monday, though, the wounds were opened fresh again when I went to lab and had to tell everyone what had happened with the grant. It was hard because of course people wanted to talk about it, when really talking about it is the last thing I wanted to do, because there's nothing talking can do but make me angry and sad. Had I been more forward thinking I'd have had a t-shirt made that read "The grant's been triaged; can we talk about baseball?" Instead, I fielded sympathetic looks all day, and while I adore my lab-mates, I despise the feeling of people feeling sorry for me.

Things brightened on Wednesday, when THE YANKEES WON THE WORLD SERIES!!!!!!!! I feel like I've been waiting forever for this, because I only started going to games regularly in 2002. I actually had tickets to game 7 had it happened, but I was genuinely happy that it didn't have to. And if there's anything that can make you forget your troubles for a while, it's throwing your arms around strangers and singing "New York, New York" at the top of your lungs while champagne is passed around. Yesterday J and I played hooky and went down to the ticker tape parade, and while there were way too many people for us to get anywhere near the parade, we did see a lot of ~~ticker tape~~ paper floating through the buildings downtown, which was very beautiful.

With respect to my career (this is what this blog's supposed to be about, no?), Thursday was the best day and here's why: I went to hear a visiting speaker, and the speaker turned out to be someone from my graduate program! She had been in her 4th or 5th year when I started so I didn't know her too well, but now she is a bona fide Assistant Professor at a super Classy Institution! Her work is so sexy it hurts (in a good way) and it was just so incredibly inspiring to see someone from my generation be so successful. What's more, she is still the very down-to-earth and nice person I remember her being, so it's encouraging to know that one doesn't have to become an aggressive bitch in order to make it as a woman in science.

So I'm back on the horse, as they say! I have more applications to send out this week, and thanks to Candid Engineer's excellent synopsis of what she learned at the Negotiating the Ideal Faculty Position (NIFP) workshop and DrdrA's comprehensive guide to applying for faculty jobs, I think I've tweaked my cover letter and research statement for the better. Onward and upward!

Well, that sucked.

2009-10-31T23:19:00.002-04:00

Did you hear that whooshing noise earlier today? That was the sound of my ego, deflating faster than the Heene balloon.

My K99 application came back unscored. I don't want to whine about it too much because I know this is something that happens to many people, even people who go on to be (or are) successful scientists, but frankly, I feel like I've been slapped in the face.

I'm embarrassed, indignant, and sad. I don't feel sorry for myself, but I'm frustrated that I so severely misjudged how strong my application was. As I wrote about previously, I thought I was pretty hot stuff, and it's scary to think I may be far from it.

I've never been one for wallowing, though--it's ugly and unproductive. I contacted my Program Officer and there's nothing I can do but wait for my summary statement, which will hopefully give me some insight into the reviewers' major issues. Until then, I've just got to keep doing what I was doing before this grant was something that mattered--getting my work done and applying for jobs. Tonight I'll be bummed, but J's making tacos and the Yankees are winning, so I suppose life isn't all bad.

Just in time for Halloween...

2009-10-27T11:48:00.001-04:00

A discussion on dressing up as The Scientist They Want.

I recently went back to my grad school to attend the public thesis defense of one of my good friends. During the pre-talk mingling I chatted with a PI I'd known while I was a student, and when I mentioned that I was job hunting, he said, "Oh, do you know about the job opening at the Fancy Liberal Arts College up the road? That could be great for you." I had not heard about the FLAC job, and was very interested, as it really is one of the top FLACs in the country. But then he said, "be sure when you apply that you make yourself look like a cell biologist, because that's what they want."

Out of respect I simply smiled and said, "Oh, OK!" but what I really wanted to say was, "Dude. I know you know that I am no cell biologist. Sure, I'm peripherally interested in receptor signaling, but mitochondria and I do not hang. I have no real plans to conduct research that would qualify as cell biology. So why would I want to give people the impression that I do?"

A recent commenter said,

The most important thing to do with your cover letter is to show that you're a good "fit". A cover letter that doesn't show you're a good fit says one of three things about you:
(1) you aren't a good fit
(2) you aren't interested enough in the department to figure out what they want or you don't really know what they're about
(3) you aren't skilled enough to even fake 1 & 2

My big question to this commenter (and to all of my readers) is, why would I want to fake it? Is it too idealistic to imagine that they'd want me for me, and not for my ability to craft a cover letter that feeds them what they want to hear? I mean, I understand the idea that if they seem to emphasize teaching, then I should emphasize teaching in my cover letter, and likewise if they emphasize research. I've been doing that. But I can't lie about the kind of research I'm capable of or intend to do...can I?

At the SfN meeting I ran into a friend who's been in a tenure-track faculty position for maybe 7 or 8 years. He had lots of great advice, but one thing he said was particularly interesting--the best possible situation, he said, is not when you can convince them that you're The Scientist They Want, but when you can convince them you're The Scientist They Didn't Know They Wanted. We didn't get a chance to hash out how you actually make this happen, but I'm thinking this may involve perhaps a little...um..creativity in your cover letter to get your foot in the door for an interview/job talk, where things will presumably play out like this:

Dr Becca: And that's the end of my job talk on non-cell biology topics.
Search Committee: Um, but we thought you said you did cell biology?
Dr Becca: Oh, hmm...I suppose I did. I don't, actually, but isn't this much, much better???
Search Committee: Now that we think about it, it is!! It totally is. Would you like to join our department?
Dr Becca: Yes, thanks very much.

On the Market: SfN Wrap-Up

2009-10-23T13:18:00.002-04:00

Totally awesome science aside, there were kind of a lot of FAILs at the meeting this week: wi-fi FAIL...shuttle bus FAIL...food court FAIL...and I'm afraid I've got to add another one...NeuroJobs FAIL. The SfN NeuroJobs Career Center was literally an enclosed area with 10-12 computer stations whose Internet Explorer default page was the NeuroJobs website (from which most users had navigated away in favor of gmail and facebook).

Thank you, SfN, but I do have a computer.

Looking back, it was probably naive of me to imagine that SfN would be doing any kind of concrete matchmaking, or that search committee members would be taking time out of their busy conference schedules to meet with potential candidates. NeuroJobs "live" is likely more suited to people looking for post-doc positions than faculty positions, especially those in town from abroad who can't all be flown in for a job talk. I hope it works out for them. *sniff*

Some other items of note:

I took PhysioProf's advice and did not seek out faculty from departments I've applied to, at risk of looking like a brown-nosing, shameless self-promoter. I did, however, tell just about everyone I ran into that I was OtM, which led to some very interesting conversations, some of which will be turned into full blog posts. One PI in my field whom I've known for several years responded that she wished her department had an opening for me, but that they weren't currently hiring. This of course ~~was probably~~ could have been an empty nicety, but it certainly beat a sarcastic "heh--good luck with that," so it made me feel good.
I also took DrugMonkey's advice and stopped by the NIMH booth to talk with the Program Officer for my K99 application that is under review right now. I unfortunately caught her as she was leaving to meet with someone important-looking and didn't get to do much but introduce myself, but I hope that even that will provide the tiniest glimmer of happy recognition when funding decisions are made. According to a grad school friend who now works as a Review Officer, the best thing I can do is wait until my score comes, and if it seems potentially borderline start communicating with my PO to see if there's anything I can do to bump it into funding range. This is especially important for me because K99 applicants can't have been a post-doc for more than 5 years, and if I don't get funded this time around, that's it for me. I'm too old. Past my prime. Over the hill. Waaah. (As an aside, it's not exactly clear when "being a post-doc" officially starts. Is it the day you defend your thesis? The day you begin work in your post-doc lab? The day you receive your PhD from your institution? The order of these events is not always the same. Anyone know?)

I've got just over a week until I get my score, and until then (and beyond), I'll keep checking the job ads and applying to anything that has potential. I'm also starting a new experiment that I'm really excited about, so I'll have lots to keep me busy until the interviews invites come pouring in. Pouring!!*

*this is me remaining upbeat and optimistic, despite certain conversations had at the meeting...stay tuned.

PS--one thing that I thought was a big SfN WIN was the #sfn09 Twitter-fest. I loved seeing everyone's sciency thoughts throughout the day; it was endless 140-character fun.

Show me the money! (a chat with Francis Collins)

2009-10-20T02:00:00.002-04:00

First off, I have to give a giant hat-tip to Scicurious, Kristen, Mike Pascoe, and the rest of the official Neurobloggers. You guys are doing an amazing job covering some of the best parts of the conference, and I was wondering if I could maybe score some of whatever it is you're taking? Seriously, I'm so freaking exhausted every day I can hardly manage to order my dinner, let alone write a coherent and insightful synopsis of all the cool science I saw, so, well done!

Anyway, so you've been enjoying the first half of SfN, checking out posters, having Deep Intellectual Conversations, and listening to awe-inspiring talks by world-class scientists. But all the while, something in the back of your mind has been nagging you--what is Dr Becca's Big Secret??? It's time to tell you. You're ready.

A few days ago I was invited to be part of a small post-doc panel that would meet for an hour with Francis Collins, new Obama-appointed director of the NIH. Apparently Dr Collins wanted to hear from the Scientists of the Future regarding our ~~deepest desires~~ general thoughts and concerns, and so 10 of us sat down with him and several NIH division heads this morning to discuss. Naturally, I was very excited to be included in this meeting, given that I've had much on my mind lately re: becoming a Scientist of the Future.

Dr Francis was super friendly and warm and nice, and seemed to genuinely care about what we had to say. The conversation started out benignly enough with some chit-chat about the state of connectomes and other databases and how useful they will be to Scientists of the Future, but during the discussion I couldn't suppress the thoughts in my brain that were saying, "can't anyone talk about databases? Aren't we here because we're post-docs, in one of the trickiest and most precarious positions any scientist will be in? Let's talk about me and my problems!"

Other panel members seemed to have the same internal monologue as I did, because it wasn't long before we were all demanding money left and right--better benefits with training grants, cost of living considerations in stipend minimums (as a New Yorker, I said a real "Amen!" when this was brought up), improved funding opportunities for senior post-docs and junior faculty, and financial incentives for engaging in scientific outreach.

I was waiting for the moment when one of the division heads would burst and call us out on the greedy, whiny, entitled bitches we were making ourselves out to be, but that moment never came. They actually seemed to be listening to us--our problems aren't new ones, and they're already taking real positive steps to try to fix some of them. R01 submissions from first-time applicants are now being evaluated separately (and slightly more leniently) from those of more established PIs, in hopes of bringing down the statistic that the average age for new PIs to get their first R01 is currently a staggering 42 (I asked Dr Collins straight up, "what am I supposed to do for nine years??). They've also created the P30 grants, which are given to universities to create junior faculty positions. This, I think, is a great idea, and one of the openings I've applied for is funded in this way.

Some of the other points are a little further away from being solved, but not once did anyone tell us that our concerns and suggestions were unrealistic. Of course, an hour is not nearly enough time for a Scientist of the Future to unload all of her hopes, dreams, and fears on the most powerful man in American health research, but I think the fact that he even took the time to get this together is a sign of good things to come.

It goes without saying that it would have been a lot more awesome if things went down like this:

Collins: What can I do to make post-docs' lives and careers better?
Us: Give us money and jobs, please.
Collins: OH!!! Is that it?? I had no idea it would be so easy! Done and Done.
Us: Sweet.

< high-five >

See you in Chi-town!

2009-10-16T13:33:00.001-04:00

I'm taking a break from digging my winter wear out from under-the-bed storage (seriously, what month is it again??) to assure you that although I'm not an official Neuroblogger, I'll be blogging about SfN from the Windy City. In case the blog is too long-"winded" for you (Oh! Oh ho ho! I am too clever sometimes), you can follow me on Twitter (@doc_becca) and hear about the meeting in delicious 140-character bite-size morsels.

And just to be an impossible tease, I'm going to tell you that I've got something very exciting in the works regarding Yours Truly getting to hold counsel with someone very fancy to discuss some very topical issues. I swear, I'll give you the details as soon as I'm allowed!

Until then, I'll be singing along with this....

A Shmoozy Interlude

2009-10-14T13:05:00.002-04:00

Not actually an interlude, I just like how it rhymes with my last post. Back to our regularly scheduled programming! Job hunting, and more specifically, the Art of Shmoozing.

As many of you are undoubtedly aware, the Society for Neuroscience Annual Meeting is just a few days away, and with 25,000 attendees, it's a great opportunity for networking. Scientists have a reputation for being awkward, socially-inept misanthropes who prefer the company of a microscope or cell culture to that of another person, but the reality is that most of us are very friendly and cool and fun to be around. Are we a little nerdier than most? Sure. Are Lord of the Rings references thrown around at a higher frequency than in other groups? Probably. But the progress of our careers, science, and thus society as a whole can only be improved by us making friends, so get ready to CHAT IT UP!

A couple of things (literally, a couple) I've learned in my 10 years of attending meetings:

1. Graduate students (and post-docs), don't be afraid to talk to fancy PIs--you never know when you're going to find a real advocate. One year at SfN a pretty prominent dude came to my poster and fell in love with my research. We got along famously, and it led to me being invited to write a review, and later to speak at a conference where I was the only non-faculty-level person on the schedule. He also introduced me to one of my future (now past) post-doc collaborators, a very famous dude who's recommended me as a source to people writing layperson science books. Connections!

2. Speaking of PIs, never assume somebody isn't one. I remember at my very first poster presentation speaking with a young woman who had very similar interests. I asked her, "whose lab are you in?" after which there was an AWFUL pause, followed by an indignant "MINE." Of course, I did my best to be all, "Oh, it's just that you look so young!!!!" but I'm not sure how much good that did. This woman is pretty much my arch rival now. In science, not in Life, but still.

For further reference, DrDrA over at Blue Lab Coats has a good list of meeting etiquette tips that I highly recommend you check out.

I'm wondering how/whether I should track down people from the schools I've applied to. I obviously have no idea who's on the search committees, and I'd be surprised if many of them will have looked at my application before the meeting. I feel like it can't hurt to introduce myself to anyone I can find from the department, though, and help them put a face to the name when they do get around to it (especially when the face is as cute as mine!). I realize that on paper, no one gives a flying fuck about what a charming and fun person I am, but I can't help but think that in person, people do. Meaning that if I meet people at SfN and they like me, and that gives them even the tiniest of warm happy feelings when they sit down with my CV...well, it's got to be a good thing.

A Boozy Interlude

2009-10-12T12:18:00.000-04:00

It's been a productive weekend. In addition to watching a ton of baseball, I sent out five job applications, several of which I'm actually really excited about and think would be a good match for me, and have one more ready to go into the mail. Yes, the MAIL mail, and they want copies of all my re-prints; clearly they didn't get the environment memo? I also finished my poster for the Society for Neuroscience meeting in Chicago next weekend, and while the poster may be a leeeeeeettle light on data, it has got to be one of the nicest looking posters the conference will ever see. There are pie charts, okay?

I strongly feel that when you've worked very hard on sciency things it's good to reward yourself by engaging in one of your non-sciency hobbies. Hobbies have been on my mind recently, because I noticed that I have friends who knit, or belong to soccer leagues, or have book clubs or some such thing, and I wondered to myself what my hobby was. Then I remembered:

Oh, hai home bar (and hai Yankeez)! My hobby is cocktails. The Prohibition-era speakeasy is a real fad here in NYC, but if a fad results in a multitude of classy places for me to have a delicious drink that was invented 50-100 years ago, it's a fad I can get behind. Seriously, 100%.

There's a substantial cocktail blogosphere here as well, and I've met several of the scene's bigwigs at various spirits tasting events that I've managed to sweet-talk my way into. What's interesting is that they are almost as nerdy as we scientists are, only about booze instead of neurons. The history, the revival of lost or forgotten spirits, the rare whiskey batches, the debates over the proper recipe for the Martinez Cocktail...there's a lot to geek out about. They are awesome people, and their lives pretty much rule. Can you imagine if your job were simply to drink fancy drinks and write about it? That would be nice.

One of the number one reasons I'm looking forward to the SfN meeting (I can have more than one number one reason, can't I?) is that Chicago's got one of the country's top destinations for serious cocktail enthusiasts: The Violet Hour in Wicker Park. So if you are stalking me, there's a good chance I'll be there pretty much every night. After the ALCS games, of course.

Nice package!

2009-10-08T17:31:00.001-04:00

Since this blog began just a few tiny weeks ago, I've been getting some really excellent advice from some really excellent scientists (and non-scientists, too!). They've given me a lot to think about as I prepare my applications, and what it all seems to come down to is...my package. What will search committees see when they look at me on paper? More importantly, what do they want to see?

In response to a recent post, Comrade PhysioProf wrote:

It is more important to explain how awesome your post-doctoral work has been, and how you are uniquely positioned to leverage off of your post-doctoral training to make an impact on your field as independent investigator. This is subtly--but importantly--different than explaining how awesome you are personally, about which no one gives a flying fuck.

Now, as much as I'd like my charming, self-deprecating wit and cocktail-making skills to factor into the hiring process, CPP is completely right. I recently submitted an application for a K99-R00 award (a special grant to help post-docs transition to junior faculty), and had to write about 6 different statements explaining how my previous and current work had prepared me for the work I was going to do in the future. What seems to be most highly valued is having a real focus throughout your career, as opposed to flitting about learning a million methods in different fields.

As I was writing all of these many, many statements and realizing that this is what is desirable in a New Investigator candidate, a sneaky grin crept onto my face because I was also realizing that I have GOT IT. My thesis work and my post-doc work are related in theme but completely different in technique, and no one else in my labs has seemed all that keen on continuing my projects after I leave, so I can probably take it all with me. And I want to! I'm genuinely excited about and proud of the work I've done so far, and am looking forward to building on what I've learned and taking it in new directions.

So that's all sunshine and rainbows, but like my commenters point out, most search committees will probably check out my CV first (and possibly only). In that case, should they not find my Classy Institutions, my several Awards and Honors, and my humble-but-not-laughable publishing record up to snuff, they'll sadly miss out on the captivating and compelling story of how I've been preparing my whole life (er...ten years) for This Job. That would be disappointing, but I'm optimistic that it won't come to that. Why, you ask? Well...I think I have a nice package.

Allow me to describe my awesomeness in great detail

2009-10-04T23:56:00.001-04:00

Ah, the art of the Letter of Application.

Most of us could probably recount without too much trouble our research and teaching experience, and even lay down with some coherence a five-to-ten year plan for all the clever and elegant studies we intend to undertake. And our CV, well, really it speaks for itself. But we don't live in a simple meritocracy, do we? The facts alone are not enough--we need to Sell Ourselves, and for some reason this is really, really hard.

You already know how things went last year when I applied for a job at a Fancy Midwestern College, but what I didn't tell you is that the year before that, I applied for a job at a Fancy New England College. FNEC asked for a letter outlining my research experience and interests, and my letter looked like this:

Letter of Application for Dr Becca, Phd

Research Experience: My graduate thesis focused on blahblahblah. My current post-doctoral work examines blahblahblah (3 paragraphs)

Research Interests: I aim to manage my own laboratory where I will continue to address the issues of blahblahblah (2 paragraphs)

Of course, I heard nothing from FNEC, so when I was preparing the following year to apply to FMC I first sent the letter to my thesis advisor for a quick critique. She said, "I like the letter very much EXCEPT [her caps lock] you should say right in the beginning that you are an excellent and experienced teacher able to teach a range of courses in neuro and phys psych, and that your research would fit well at FMC, both in topic and in technique." Wait, I'm supposed to just come right out and say that I'm an excellent teacher and scientist? Shouldn't they just be able to tell how great I am from my CV and stuff? Won't they think I'm...well, an arrogant asshole??

But why are we so afraid of looking like assholes, when it should be obvious that anyone applying for any job anywhere would do best to show their prospective employer just how awesome they are? It makes me wonder if the nature of our profession fosters an unhealthy modesty in us. After all, most of our days are peppered with humbling experiences, be they terrible priority scores on grant applications or repeated rejections from journals (I have heard this happens to scientists sometimes). We're basically always being told how much we suck, not to mention that we're all probably harboring deep-seated insecurities from our childhoods when we had no friends and our moms forced us to go to the school dance. Just, you know, hypothetically speaking.

My thesis advisor is very wise. I took her advice and jumped right into that letter to FMC with a big old "I rock" (paraphrasing), and it totally worked because I got a phone interview, which I promptly bombed. But baby steps, you know?

****

As an aside, I'd like a bit of advice from those of you who are TT faculty: How much detail do I need to go into in my letter with respect to my research plans? Do they want to hear actual experiments, or just general issues I'm interested in, and techniques I plan on employing?

I admit it, I have been drunk before

2009-10-01T17:27:00.001-04:00

I like to think of myself as a classy lady. I say "please" and "thank you", I never show up to a party empty handed, and despite a penchant for shopping at Forever 21 (shut up. Everything people like about my outfits is from there), I usually dress age-appropriately. But what of the internet me?

My mom (I know you are reading this, hi Mom!) recently reminded me that prospective employers would likely seek out absolutely everything they could about me via the magic of the internet. Is this something that I should be worried about? I'm not really sure. There is, of course, my facebook page, which is set to the highest privacy settings, but like my mom so wisely pointed out, you never know when one of your facebook friends will betray you and your privacy settings. If that happens, what would they see? First, there's a video of me excelling at Wii Fit Hula Hoop. I reached the Calorie Torcher level (have since graduated to Calorie Incinerator, FYI), and I'm fully dressed, so it's all fine, right?

Then there is the matter of the many pictures of me with a drink in my hand, probably the main concern for my mom. Is it bad for your future employers to know you have a social life, or that you enjoy a cocktail now and then? The reality is that there are two things that are highly likely to occur at parties, and those two things are drinking and picture taking. It could even be argued that the more the former occurs, the more the latter does, too, and thus we've all got a million facebook pictures of us drinking. We do, right? Or is it just me? Say it's not just me.

If you google me, everything but maybe 2 links is science-related, which I feel is a very good rate. I was once quoted (using my real name) by the New York Times in a piece about a non-sciency website with which I've been fairly active, and while the article doesn't directly link to my posts on that site, most people could probably figure it out. My mom's primary worry with that one is my occasional use of profanity (and apparent fondness for fancy cocktails), but as far as I can tell, there are plenty of successful scientists with potty mouths out there.

So the big question is, how much housecleaning do I need to do, here? Do I need to make my internet presence spic-and-span? Should my social life even be considered in evaluations of my professional potential? I'd like to think that it shouldn't be--and if it is, I'd like to remind certain tenured professors about certain stories you've told me regarding you and certain other tenured professors on a certain night in Prague....

This is actually kind of serious.

2009-09-28T12:55:00.001-04:00

When I came into lab last Wednesday, my excellent bay-mate E (for the non-sciency among my readers, this is the equivalent of a cubicle friend) said, "Hey Becca, I got an article for you. It's called 'Real Lives and White Lies in the Funding of Scientific Research'." It made me feel warm and fuzzy inside that something with such an ominous title made him think of me. The article is a perspective piece in PLoS Biology, a highly-respected journal published by the Public Library of Science, and it could very well be titled 'Why, Dr Becca, Your Life is Going to Suck'.

The article outlines some of the major problems with the current grants system and how the careers of young scientists can be negatively affected. Most junior faculty are responsible for obtaining funding to pay for the bulk (if not all) of their research (not to mention their salaries), in addition to teaching classes, training graduate students and postdocs, and actually doing the research. But the way the system is currently structured, grants only cover ~3 years of funding and can take several years to secure, which means that we're constantly applying for grants, while teaching, training, and lab work are forced to be secondary priorities. This puts us in a catch-22, because we're more likely to be awarded a grant if we've published our work. Moreover, because grant applications are so long and complicated and grants reviewers spend relatively little time actually reviewing each proposal, we're rewarded for composing tidy, tight little package proposals rather than those based on more organic, risk-taking, and free-flowing ideas (which, it could be argued, is how some of the best science happens).

None of this is news, of course. We've all been kvetching about these problems for ages (if there's one thing that scientists as a whole excel at, it's commiserating...and schadenfreude), but at the same time, seeing it all in print is sobering. That's me they're talking about in the article, my not-so-distant future if I succeed (!!) in my quest for a tenure-track job. What's also sobering was noticing on the PLoS website that despite 19,000 views of the article, there were only nine comments. Nine!! There's clearly a lot to be said here, but why aren't we engaging in real, public discussion?

I would seriously love to hear from everyone here, especially if you or someone you know is a new faculty member. How is it going? How do you balance securing funding with all of your other responsibilities? Do you think we need major reform in the grants system, and if so, how do we go about making it happen? This, I feel, is the biggest hurdle, and it will never be cleared if we don't talk about it.

eHarmo-NeuroJobs

2009-09-24T12:51:00.001-04:00

If you've never used an internet dating service, you were probably not single in NYC in the last 5 years. It's positively de rigueur here, but for those of you unfamiliar, here's how it works: You create a profile for yourself, with pictures and text--it's like facebook, but instead of Mafia Wars and Lil' Green Patch updates you're throwing out your best comedy to answer prompts like "5 things I can't live without" and "If I could be anywhere, I'd be..." Potential suitors who like what you have to say send you a message, or a "wink" if they're shy. If you like what they have to say, you write them back. Usually, though, you don't. Since I now have a fancy live-in boyfriend, I thought my days of internet dating were over, but it turns out I was wrong.

NeuroJobs, as mentioned earlier, is the online career service offered by the Society for Neuroscience (SfN). It's very, very good. In addition to hosting a user-friendly, streamlined search engine, it sends you email alerts when a new post with your special keywords comes along, and allows you to upload your CV so that potential employers can check you out. If they feel that your Classy Institutions and number of first-author publications are up to snuff, they put in a request to NeuroJobs to contact you. NeuroJobs then plays matchmaker, asking you if you'd like this potential employer to get in touch. If you think you might want this job, you say "yes," and you exchange witty emails for a day or two, and then one of you suggests a bar in the East Village or Lower East Side that's trendy but not too trendy, and...oh wait. That's the other one, isn't it?

I'm only sort of kidding. I posted my CV, and a few days later I got an email from NeuroJobs that said, "University of ______ expressed an interest in considering you for the following opportunity," and just like when I got that first contact from an eligible NYC bachelor, I did a little dance, singing "somebody LIKES me!!" But just like when I noticed that the eligible NYC bachelor was 20 years my senior and listed The Da Vinci Code as his favorite book, I had to decline this university's advances due to its location in a part of the country I haven't yet accepted as being inhabitable. I'm working on that, though.

I'm still optimistic that NeuroJobs is going to come through for me, and find the perfect match. The big SfN meeting is coming up in a few weeks, and I'm looking forward to seeing what the NeuroJobs Career Center there will have to offer. Hopefully, it will work out so that I'll get to have a live ~~date~~ interview, we'll totally hit it off, and soon we'll be featured in the NeuroJobs commercial...

Becca and Classy Institution: matched October 20, 2009. Tenure-track position started July 15, 2010.

Location, location, location!

2009-09-21T01:45:00.001-04:00

OK, the I Love Academia cheese-fest is over. Let's talk real estate, shall we?

I'm going to cut right to the chase here; I don't want to leave New York. More specifically, I don't want to leave my apartment. Not in a Brian Wilson kind of way, but in a...well, let me show you:

This is the view from my private roofdeck. I took this picture.

I mean really, how could anyone be expected to give this up? I live here with my very handsome boyfriend J and our [number redacted] kitties, and we're very happy with life in general. We love New York and how it indulges night owls like us with endless late-night dining options, how we don't have to own a car, and how we really can have absolutely anything delivered whenever we want. We recently had a little party where mint juleps were the drink of choice, and when we ran out of ice and mint I called the grocery store and asked them to deliver 4 bags of ice and 5 bunches of mint, and they totally did it in, like, 10 minutes.

But I'm neither naive nor delusional enough to think that I can restrict my job search to just the metro area. I'm entering what's probably one of the toughest job markets in recent years, and I need to cast a broad net. How broad, though, is the question. Common sense would dictate that I apply to absolutely every position that even remotely fits my interests, but am I allowed even a smidgen of location bias? For example, can I rule out the deep south? The rural west? How much of a geography snob do I get to be? (I am seriously interested in your answer to this question.)

And there's also the matter of J; It's not fair for me to demand he move and find a job just anywhere, and I don't want us to live in different places. I have friends who've taken faculty jobs that required them to live a plane ride away from their significant others for 2-3 years, which kind of blows my mind. Those positions were only temporary, and eventually they all ended up together 4-ever, but I still don't think I could do it. In the end, I suppose these are things we'll worry about when they are actual, tangible issues (as in, after I'm invited for interviews, not before I've even sent out my CV), and decisions we'll make together. And there ARE faculty openings in NYC, so it's not completely out of the question that I'll get to stare at that ridiculous view a while longer.

But how did I get here?

2009-09-19T01:16:00.001-04:00

Sometimes I try to imagine what I'd be doing if I hadn't decided to become a neuroscientist, and I come up completely blank. It feels like I've only ever wanted to do this, although I do distinctly recall my 13-year old self telling my mom I wanted to be either a professional tennis player or an actress when I grew up, and her telling me flat out I wasn't good enough at either tennis or acting to do so. Thanks, mom!

I also remember the day it occurred to me that an academic career was it. I was walking through the psychology department at the Classy Institution where I got my undergrad degree when I passed an open office door; inside, I could see and hear two faculty members talking animatedly. Though I couldn't pick up the context, it was clear that they were Figuring Something Out, and they were really excited. Almost immediately, that little snippet of conversation moved something in me, and much like the day I saw my amazing red peep-toe pumps in the window of a Brooklyn boutique, my brain spoke to me with the utmost conviction: I want that.

I want thinking, and problem solving, and exciting chats with my colleagues (I think we can all agree this is the best part of being a scientist, no? Or would you say it's the expense account? Box seats at Yankee Stadium? Oh wait). I was told that in order to have that, I needed to go to grad school, so I did, and after that I took a post-doc position, which is the next thing you need to do. All along the way, I've gotten to be those professors I saw back in college--I've thought, I've solved problems, I've had exciting chats--and I have to say, it never gets old.

Searching Highs and Lows

2009-09-16T10:18:00.005-04:00

Are you a chemical engineer? Nor am I, but browsing through the job ads on the Science and Nature websites kind of makes me wish I were. Business is booming! But why do I know this?

I have not quite mastered the art of the Advanced Search. My three sources for job ads (not including my thesis advisor) are Science, Nature, and NeuroJobs on the Society for Neuroscience website, and I haven't found any to be completely user-friendly (if you know of any other good resources, by all means share!). Of course, the paranoid part of me is wondering whether this is some sort of test; if I'm not savvy enough find the right job to apply to, I can't possibly be qualified to fill the position, now can I?

I went through a similar period of self-doubt when I applied for a K99-R00 Pathway to Independence award from NIMH earlier this year. The NIH grants website is nearly impenetrable, and you need to cross-reference the guidelines there with a 250-page pdf manual, out of which you must extract the scattered instructions specific to your particular grant. It's a real exercise in Not Repeatedly Smashing Your Laptop Into the Wall, and I quickly became certain that it was all part of an elaborate filtration process by which most people would, in frustration, give up on science altogether. Wheat from the chaff, you know?

So here I am again questioning my worth, only now it's according to the ease with which I come across listings for The Perfect Job. How useful I'm finding these search engines varies by website, with Nature coming in dead last. It's terrible. As far as I can tell, there's no easy way to sort out tenure track faculty jobs from, say, post-doc jobs, and there are a LOT of post-doc jobs. Thousands. When you put "professor" into the search, it comes up with post-doc jobs that ask you to send your application to Dr Joe Scientist, Professor of Chemical Engineering. To try to eliminate post-doc jobs in your results, you can use the "-" symbol to leave out anything that says "post-doc" in it, putting the expression "-post-doc" in the search bar along with "+neuroscience". However, this poses at least two problems, the most important being, do you know how many different ways people choose to write the word "post-doc"?

Well, there's "post-doc", "postdoc", "post doc", but then you need to also include "postdoctoral", "post doctoral" etc., etc....it's a pain! The second problem is that you end up ruling out ads that say something like, "minimum 2 years post-doctoral experience required for this very excellent tenure-track faculty job." And then you still need to narrow things down so as to rule out all the Chemical Engineering positions.

Science is much better, with a nice big button that says "Faculty Jobs". Thank you! That was easy, wasn't it? Once you click through you get a nice list of the job posting, plus the school and location. You can narrow this search with "neuroscience" or "neurobiology" or "psychology" (my big three), to get a pretty streamlined list of jobs you may want. Neurojobs is basically the reverse, since all posts are at the very least neuro-related (no chemical engineering positions here!), but then you need to narrow with "professor" or "faculty" (apparently there are far fewer post-doc positions listed here). You can also easily filter the jobs by "academic", "not-for-profit", "industry" etc, in case your experience with the K-99 made you never want to write another grant again. It should be noted that Neurojobs is free for SfN members, but $25 A DAY if you're not.

One thing that seems so obvious to me is that there should be some kind of uniformity in the way these jobs are listed. For example, when the department chair goes to list the position, he or she should have to click a box that says "assistant professor" "post-doc" "technician", etc., rather than making up the name of the job. That way job searchers can easily search by category, and not have to guess whether "Position in Neuroscience" is something we'd like to apply for.

Hmmm...perhaps I should be looking in these sites for openings in web design?

What happened last year

2009-09-14T11:03:00.002-04:00

A lot of the job openings I hear about are forwarded to me by my graduate thesis advisor, who gets the ads from her colleagues at other schools. I realize that it's in her best interest for me, her progeny, to succeed as a scientist, but still it makes me feel good that she's thinking of me and my career five years after I've left her.

It was around this time last year that she forwarded me a job ad for an assistant professor position at a midwestern liberal arts college. Now, I am a real east coast kind of girl, and would not normally give much serious thought to moving to the midwest. I'm not even sure I could identify all of the midwestern states on a map. But this particular school is one of the absolute best in the country, and I had this romantic vision of myself, probably in a corduroy blazer, sprawled in an idyllic quad with 8-10 of the college's top neuroscience students. We're deep in conversation, and I'm challenging them and expanding their minds as autumn leaves fall quietly around us.

So I applied. Applying for faculty jobs is actually not that difficult--most simply require your CV, a statement of some sort that outlines your experience and goals, and reference letters. Once your statement is written, you need only do minor alterations for each school, being careful to remove all mention of what a great addition you'd be to the Dept of Psychology at University of Central Springfield in your application to the Neuroscience Dept at Camden State College. It should be noted that at the time, I did not yet have any publications from my post-doc work, so my CV was...concise. I was not optimistic.

One day, I was on the subway when my phone rang. This is very rare, as there is no cell phone service in the NYC subways. Once in a while, though, the tracks are so shallow that you can pick up a signal, but the chances of this coinciding with you receiving a call are, I'd imagine, on the order of nano. I didn't answer it because I knew I'd lose the call within a few seconds, plus it was an unfamiliar area code so I figured it was my student loan provider or someone similar demanding money from me. When I got out of the train there was no message, confirming my suspicions. I missed another call from the same number later that day, again no message.

A bit later, though, an email popped up in my inbox that said this: "Dear Dr Becca, This is Dr ___ from Fancy Midwestern College (FMC). We've been calling you at (718) xxx-xxxx to ask you a few questions, but haven't been able to reach you. Please get in touch and let us know if there's a better number at which to contact you."

!!!!!

FMC has questions for me! This means that they (at the very least) were not snorting with laughter as they dragged my CV file into the Trash. But what does "a few questions" mean? It all seems very casual, no?

As it turns out, no, "a few questions" is not very casual. When I called FMC back, they asked:

-What kind of research would you plan on doing here?
-How can you incorporate undergraduates into your research?
-What courses would you like to teach?
-Other Serious Interview questions

I was caught completely off guard, and that combined with the fact that I was FREAKING OUT with happiness that they'd actually found my application competitive enough to warrant a call made for a terrible, terrible phone interview. Like, really embarrassingly terrible.

I got a letter a few months later informing me that they'd filled the position, which I expected, and was fine with, really. It was a great lesson, which is that you should, at all times, know who you are and what you want to do with your life. You should also be prepared to describe those things to people--without warning--in complete seriousness and sincerity. This year, if (and hopefully when) I'm asked for an interview, I'll allow myself to feel flattered for about half a second, and then I'm going to move on and tell my interviewer in concrete detail about what a great scientist I'm going to be.

On the off chance that someone who doesn't know me is reading....

2009-09-12T00:08:00.003-04:00

A little background.

My doctorate in neurobiology took me five years to complete, and I'm now about to complete my fifth year as a post-doc. Apparently it used to be that you could get a tenure-track faculty job after just 2 or 3 years of post-doctoral work, but now the average seems to be closer to 6. How nice for us!

I've done a lot of cool things during my post-doc, which serendipitously landed me in the middle of a dream collaboration between three of the absolute tippity-top scientists in my field. They make neuroscience look easy, and they made my life incredibly easy by letting me do pretty much whatever experiments I wanted for the last five years [N.B., grad students: do your post-doc with rich PIs, I am so serious].

I plan on doing some more cool things in lab this year, but I also plan on applying for tenure-track faculty jobs at colleges and universities. I have no idea if I'll succeed; it's my understanding that even if you are a superstar post-doc your chances of being hired with a reasonable start-up package are slim to none. I'm probably not a superstar, but I'm diving in anyway, and I'm going to blog about it. The applications, the interviews (hopefully!!!!), the prospect of moving, taking my boyfriend's job into consideration, getting over my ivy-league ego...there's going to be a lot to say. I'm really, really excited about all of it, even if I fail miserably. OK, I'm not excited about failing miserably. But I'm excited about really GOING for something, you know? I'm ready.