The Last Word On Nothing

A year ago this month, I followed some random link and came upon 10Q, a site that promises to ask you 10 questions over a period of 10 days and then send your answers to your inbox after a one-year interlude. The questions were generic but reflective: “Describe a significant experience that has happened in the past year. How did it affect you?” “Is there something you wish you’d done differently this past year?” “How would you like to improve yourself and your life over the next year?”

I’m sure I forgot about 10Q the day after I answered the last question. Then this week, true to its word, 10Q sent me a little care package from the past. It felt grounding to read all of those familiar but dated sentiments. Though one year isn’t all that long in adulthood, the intervening time had brought all kinds of new elements into my life that I could never have predicted a year ago.

There’s something about time capsules that evokes wonder. Ancient voices speaking from beyond the grave – or the childlike sentiments of one now elderly – trigger a deeply engrained awe. Perhaps it’s a holdover from ancestor worship. The most mundane object takes on grave significance as part of a missive to the future. It’s even become a hackneyed movie trope: The dying parent records himself: “I’ll never meet you, son, but happy 16^th birthday. Enclosed is the watch my own father gave to me.” Continue reading →

Lately, I’ve been writing about how we think of science, and so I’ve been remembering my own experiences as a researcher. This is a redux of a post that first appeared July 12, 2012.
When I was a biology researcher, the strangers I met at parties and on airplanes were always impressed when I told them how I made my living. Evidently, they envisioned my work as something out of Jurassic Park—a thrilling journey packed with breakthroughs and adventures. Few suspected the truth: doing science is mostly about performing mundane, repetitive tasks.

My last research job was in a human genetics lab. For two years, I labored on a map of human chromosome 18. I did experiment after experiment to decipher the order of DNA along the 18^th largest chromosome in the human genome. My job title was Professional Research Associate, but I gave myself a more fitting title, which I hung above my lab bench–Liquid Transfer Specialist. Continue reading →

September 7-11, 2015

In the way that miniature zeitgeists sometimes appear here at LWON, it was a week that centered around birds and flight.

Renewable energy is great until it massacres all your eagles. Cameron follows the newest developments in wind farming.

Boobies are unfaithful, fratricidal maniacs, says Eric. But it’s not their fault, and the same tendencies lurk within us.

Oh, yeah? Well, hummingbirds are deadbeat dads with delusions of grandeur, counters Ann. And they just ride on their looks.

Jenny learned the true art of the hug from her mom, and now she passes it on to those less fortunate in love, melding bodies and making troubles take flight.

Learning a second language bears no resemblance to what occurs in language classrooms, say I. Hop on a plane and subject yourself to the discomfort and utter thrill of true immersion.

Image: Shutterstock

I’ve always enjoyed the code-breaking aspect of reading in a foreign language. If I can’t justify the time to read something vapid but appealing, I tend to pick up the French version and keep Google translate handy for the new words. Still, what I’m really managing is my own challenge level – I have no illusions about how improving the whole exercise is.

When I actually get out there in a French- or Japanese-speaking environment, in my case – put on the spot with actual questions posed by people who expect me to respond in real time – I come home from the day exhilarated and exhausted, having deeply learned. True language competence comes only through the merciless forge of conversation. Continue reading →