What DO I actually do all day?

Hello friends!

First, how is it the middle/end of July already?!? This is crazy. I'm currently working on multiple projects in lab, trying to finish revisions of my big "dissertation proposal" that will hopefully be approved by faculty within a month, and gearing up to teach some new classes in the fall. I'm avoiding the fact that it's been approximately a million years since I've written anything blog-related but I often miss it so I'm giving it a go. I'm currently participating in a 14-day writing challenge through a Faculty Success group in order to boost motivation and progress on my academic writing projects, but I think tonight this blog is a worthy use of my dedicated writing time.

I've recently had multiple people ask me a little bit about what I do all day (including my mom) and it always reminds me how vague my overall role as a graduate student can be (often to me too!). I'm starting my 5th year (so I've now officially been in grad school longer than either high school or college...and no degree to show for it ;) My grad school life has changed quite a bit across the years. The first two years of my program consisted largely of taking classes, learning about the projects in our lab, reading literature on topics like memory, exercise, and aging, running participants through cognitive tests on the computer, running neuroimaging sessions in the MRI scanner, reading literature and writing grants (very few of which got funded, but it's all about the experience, right?). I also theoretically learned how to do basic analysis of neuroimaging data but I'm still not convinced I have this skill. After passing my comprehensive exam in 2014, my work load changed and became much more research based. This means that I take very few classes (if any) each semester, sometimes I am a TA (Teaching assistant) for a class (so far I've only done Elementary Psychology) and I instead spend the majority of my time organizing, conducting, analyzing or writing up experiments. This translates to:

• writing introductions (the part where you talk about the previous work and why the current work is so freaking important), methods (where you meticulously describe what you did during the experiment), results (lots of stats and figures), and discussion (where you try explain what you found and, again, why it is so freaking important) 
• organizing data and analyzing it with various programs and statistical methods
• running experiments (though I don't do this nearly as much as I used to since many of our Undergrads get to do that during their lab hours...but I do have one project where I continue to run an exercise protocol with epilepsy patients)
• going to meetings with either my boss, my lab, other labs, or committees
• attempting to troubleshoot things that I don't understand
• being frustrated with the things I don't understand
• making (or attempting to make) decisions about how to analyze certain data in a way that makes the most sense to answer the research question we want to ask
• creating presentations about either my own research, somebody else's research (such as presenting other published papers), or other psychology topics (ex., just today I gave a lecture about my path to college and grad school to students in the Upward Bound program here at Iowa)

I know this post hasn't been super exciting, but I hope it kind of helps to visualize what a grad student who sits at her desk all day is actually doing. Just for kicks and giggles, here are a few of the concrete things I have done in the past year while in grad school:

• written (in conjunction with my boss and another colleague) a chapter on how cognitive and physical exercise change the hippocampus, a part of the brain critical for memory formation and other cognitive functions. I was most proud of the figure (image) that we created that we developed from an initial idea of mine. I'll let you know when that's published :)

• learned and taught others how to analyze massive amounts of movement data from accelerometers (watch-like devices that track movement and activity)-- seriously, each person has like hundreds of thousands of lines of data, and we have to make sense of that!

• learned how to use a analysis program that segments different parts of the brain from an MRI scan and calculates their volume so that we can look at individual differences in the size of certain brain regions (the hippocampus, for example)

• written an 80-page document that lays out my plan for my dissertation. It includes 3 "aims", which are basically goals/questions that can be answered with specific experiments (2 of which are in progress, one of which I'm working on starting now)

• taught 4 classes per week, each of 30ish Elementary Psychology students (same lecture material, just 4 times a week)

• organized Professional Development events for Graduate Women in Science (GWIS)- an organization I was president of last year. This year I will be a "national liaison" and assist with developing a national mentorship program for women in science

For more kicks and giggles, I also was just brainstorming some things I didn't know coming in to grad school that I wish I had:

• my life would be better if I had better posture because I spend 80% of my time sitting at a desk

• google really knows a lot and being able to "google well" is a valuable skill

• time management. I thought I was good at it because I was always so "busy" with activities. But NO. Real time management is managing to work efficiently on 5 different projects when you have a long amount of time to uninterrupted time to work in one day. Bad time management is starting one project in the morning, getting lost in a rabbit hole of previous literature, my facebook feed or pinterest, eating lunch for 2 hours at my desk while absentmindedly reading and answering emails, chatting with colleagues, doing some actual work on the actual project, and realizing it's 5 pm and you never got to any other project all day. Still working on this.

• how computers work. I do recall giving a speech during high school in which I described the parts of the computer (thanks dad for letting me take apart your computer and teaching me about it :)  but I still wish I understood how important computer science would be in my current "career". You just gotta know how to use different programs, how to learn new coding languages, and, more importantly, you gotta know how to ask questions when you have no clue how to solve a problem with a computer. There is probably a solution. You just have to find it (again with the googling). 

That's all for now! Happy July 20th. 

The big move and a bout of semi-homelessness

This story is called The Search, The Find and the Almost Move. But don't worry, it has a happy ending :)

Last December (8 months from move-in): I started the apartment search early with the hopes of finding a decent-size, decent-price apartment near downtown Iowa City. My two roommates from my first Iowa City apartment both got married this summer (well, Katie's wedding hasn't happened yet but is just 3 weeks away!!) so I knew I had to either find two new roommates and stay in the same place, or find a new apartment. I always like adventures so figured it was time to strike out really on my own. I looked at one 1-bedroom apartment very close to downtown. I'm going to go ahead and say it was more like 1-room, not 1-bedroom. The kitchen was one wall of the living room and the bedroom was more like an entry way at the back of the apartment. Needless to say, that was not my new apartment. 

The second apartment I looked at seemed a little bit like it was out of the 80s. There was wood paneling on one of the walls in the living room. The price was decent, location was stellar and I liked that there was some separation of the living room, bedroom and kitchen. Definitely not a 1-roomer. Instead, a roomy 1-bedroom apartment. 

So about a week later, I signed the lease and paid for my August rent about 10 months ahead of time. I was set! 

Mid-May (3 months from move-in): Because the location of my chosen apartment truly was stellar (about 3 blocks from work), I inadvertently made it a habit to walk by the apartment on my way to work from my car (yes, if I drive, I typically have to park 7-10 blocks away from work). One day when I walked by there was a large truck in the drive way and construction workers were chucking stuff out of the upper apartment: wood panels, cords, glass, who knows what. I was mildly shocked so I emailed the company and I quickly received a reply that the upper floor apartments were being redone, but apartment 1 (my apartment) would stay the same. Sounds good to me! No big deal.

Late-May (about 2.5 months from move in): Dan and I went on a walk as a comps-break one afternoon and I said we should go check out my new place. Not that we'd be able to get in or even see inside, but at least he could see where I was going to live. 

To my surprise, not only could we see in my apartment, but we could also see THROUGH my apartment. That's right- there were no walls. And no flooring. The entire house had been gutted. 

Um....what?

Dan asked multiple times if I really was sure that was my apartment. Yes, it definitely was the one I was planning to move into in 2.5 months. It was. I was sure of it. Turns out (thanks for my friend Heather's sleuth skills), there had been a fire in the house in March. Thankfully, no one was injured. 

Two days later I received an email from the landlord saying the electrical was going to be redone throughout the entire house. That meant that they would redo the apartment: new hardwood floors, new kitchen, new bathroom. 

Pretty cool actually. I was excited about it. Except for the fact where they failed to mention that there had been a fire- so I felt kind of sneaky for knowing about it. 

Anyway, the habit continued. I inconspicuously (or maybe not) walked past the apartment at least twice a week and kept tabs on the progress. 

1 month to move-in: No walls. No floors. New roof nearly finished!

3 weeks to move-in: New windows! Still no walls. Still no floors. New roof looks nice. 

2 weeks to move-in: This was the most exciting. I walked past the house one Monday morning after I had driven back from Chicago. And there were walls! I could no longer see into the neighboring apartment. Hooray!

1 week to move-in: Appliances seemed to be arriving and getting settled. Hard to tell though, now that there were walls ;) 

At this point, I was a little surprised I hadn't heard anything from the landlords. August 1st was the move-in day. July 31st was my move-out day from the other place. The plan was to stay at the hotel with my mom and sister and Michael after they helped me move out on Thursday. All of my stuff was in a truck that I rented for Thursday, Friday and Saturday morning until 9 am. Seemed like a good plan. 

And then we walked past the apartment Thursday afternoon. At this point my stuff was in the truck, I was officially moved out of the old apartment and I was relatively homeless (not really--I had a place to stay. But no address to call my own). 

I called the landlord's office Thursday afternoon and received multiple conflicting responses about when to pick up the keys, such as "yes, the apartment certainly should be ready by noon tomorrow." and "Oh, you mean the fire house?? Oh yeah, we aren't sure about the state of that house right now."

Well, we had seen it. We were sure. There was no way I was moving in on Friday. The construction guys really had done a great job and they certainly were busting their butts to get it done, but I'm sorry, it just wasn't there! Which seriously was not really a big deal. I didn't mind if I had to stay with a friend. But it was a little odd not finding out until...well, the day before I was supposed to move in.

Not even a heads up. Except for my sneaky walk-bys. 

The landlord was quite nice though and insisted that he'd have a place to put my stuff until they could get me moved in, which would be "definitely by tomorrow (Saturday) at 4 pm." (as you'll see later, that did not turn out to be the case). 

Well, he did have a place to put my stuff. But we didn't get that whole issue sorted out until 7:30 pm Friday evening, after he started ignoring my calls and also gave us the wrong address for the garage we would be using. I'll just say, it was an ordeal. 

I have awesome friends. I texted nearly everyone I knew in the Iowa City region and I had a whole gang show up to help unload my stuff into that garage. They were rewarded with cookies and my undying affection. 

We returned the truck that evening and were quite grateful for some food and a place to sleep after a rather long day. My stuff was relatively safely stored and I had a bed to sleep in, so I was content. 

Saturday morning, Michael and I took some cookies to the workers who seriously looked like they'd gotten no sleep for approximately 2 weeks. And they were nice enough to show us the apartment! Ordeal or not, the apartment was awesome! I couldn't stop saying how beautiful it was. 

I ended up staying at the hotel until Sunday and then staying at my friend/coworker Arianna's house until Tuesday morning, at which point I met my mom, the landlord and 4 construction worker-type guys at the garage. We all loaded my stuff onto an open trailer and then the construction worker-type guys sat on top of my stuff to ride the 6 blocks to the apartment. Admittedly, it was quite a hilarious sight. 3 loads of trailer, my mom's car and my car all packed full and about an hour later and nearly all my stuff was in the new apartment! 

I am officially settled into it now. I even had my couch delivered this morning! I am 3 blocks from work and all of my favorite things (froyo, restaurants, swing dance, High Ground coffee shop). 

The construction guys are still working on the other apartments in the building, so I've decided I'll be making them brownies or something within the next few days. They did a pretty good job on this apartment ;)

You are all welcome to come check it out sometime! I'd love to have you over for tea....and leftover brownies.  

Let's stand up to cancer...and laugh at Rachel! #4

So this embarrassing story is a bit overdue. Thank you for your patience! Especially you Aunt Liza ;) And thanks for the donation!!

Tonight I will be writing about some other people besides myself and since their names are necessary for the story, I will be using fake names. Meet Shane and Fayne. These are names of people from my past but not the people in the story. These names just work well because they rhyme. And the real names rhyme. So it'll help me write the story.

Ok, enjoy! This story is mainly going to be an interaction between Shane and myself. Picture this:

It's the middle of winter at the beginning of 2013 and classes haven't started yet. And I'm throwing a party. It's a Friday evening. I spent all afternoon making food, cleaning and generally making the whole apartment look awesome. I've invited everyone in my neuro cohort, as well as some other friends. A few of my friends arrive together and we start eating and listening to music and talking about winter break (also known as "time in the lab with no classes!"). My friend Frank arrives and tells me one of his other friends, Shane, will be showing up soon. I know Shane from just a few brief interactions. Shane is tall, quiet and very nice. He's a med student and probably a few years older than me. Now, let me set up this story by saying that there is another person named Fayne. I know Fayne through Frank as well, as Fayne came to some study sessions for my neurobiology class in the fall. Fayne is younger than me, about my height and maybe slightly more annoying than Shane (who is not annoying at all).

So, Frank says to me: Shane is just about here. Would you mind letting him in downstairs?

Me: Not at all! I'll go get him.

And I rush downstairs.

Now, I have no excuse for what happened next except for pretty poor memory for the whole face/name connection thing, as well as a basic inability to remember any context for where I met people. So, in my mind- I am picturing Fayne. The much shorter undergrad. I know that I'm looking for someone named Shane but I'm picturing Fayne. And for whatever reason, I have no doubts about who this person is. I just had it set in my head that the person whose real name is Fayne....was Shane. You follow?

So, when I get downstairs, Shane (the actual Shane) is standing a little ways away from the door. Remember, I've only met him once or twice and very briefly. He sees me and says, Hi!

I say: Hi!
I definitely recognize him but the thought has not even crossed my mind at this point that this is who I went downstairs to retrieve.

He says: I'm Frank's friend.

I think: Cool! Frank invited more friends. But I'm not about to tell him I don't know his name.

I say: Yeah! I remember! I'm so glad you came! 

I am standing with the door open and it's winter so he walks inside the building.

I explain to him: Oh I'm just waiting for Shane. 

No reaction.

I continue: Shane's not here yet. We'll just wait for him and then go upstairs. 

The actual Shane...whose name I don't remember...who is standing right in front of me says: Oh. Ok 

And then he walks through the door back outside.

We stand there for a second (which actually felt like at least 45 minutes) and start to make small talk. It's winter. I'm holding the door open. While waiting for Shane. Who is standing right there. Whose name I still don't know.

The Shane I'm picturing doesn't show up. The real Shane and I hadn't been talking long when either I let it slip that I couldn't remember his name or he asks me mine and then I ask his.....whichever way it happened, soon Shane says: Oh, my name is Shane.

Cue dawn of realization.

Oh.

Uh oh.

I say...hopefully without too much of a super awkward pause: Ok then. We can go upstairs now. 

And up we go. And we talk about all kinds of things while walking up the stairs, anything besides the fact that I just made a total fool of myself. To this day, I don't know if Shane understands exactly what happened. I think he maybe does and he is just far too nice to embarrass me. So he never let on. He didn't even act like anything weird happened.

I played it cool the whole night. No, I did not get these two very different people mixed up just because their names rhyme. No, I did not act like I knew Shane's name when in fact I definitely did not know it. No, I did not refer to Shane in the third person, when he was right there, and say that Shane had not arrived yet.

Oh wait, yes I did.

______________________
Reminder- only one more week until Relay for Life!! If you want to donate (any amount!! Even $1!!) go to this page and donate and then I will tell you all another embarrassing story!

Thanks :)

Let's stand up to cancer...and laugh at Rachel! #3

I got another donation! Henceforth there shall be more embarrassment. Now...which story shall I tell?

The fake cockroach?

The REAL cockroach?

Getting lost and driving in circles in Peoria?

Getting "locked in" the park in Nice, France after dusk and all the French kids could say was "no. no....it's closed!" Oh and they could laugh.



Definitely the real cockroach one.

So this experience occurred only a few weeks ago (surprised that, even at this age, I still embarrass myself? Yeah, me too). Late one night, after both my roommates had gone to sleep, I finished up some work and headed for my bedroom. As I hit the doorway, I spotted something on the floor that made my stomach leap to my throat (I have a pretty large startle reflex). A giant cockroach. And I mean giant!! It would've been at least the length of my pinky finger...had I gotten closer enough to make that kind of comparison.

I was freaking out. The roach was close to underneath my bed, near some shoes, so I did not know what to do. I didn't want to scare it because then it would scram into the wilderness under the bed and I would never find it. Or it would crawl into my bed and eat me at night!! So by this point I had called Michael for moral support and also put on my roommate's super tall, very bright yellow rain boots. I am standing guard at my bedroom door, clad in unmatching pajamas with doubly unmatching rain boots, telling Michael I seriously do not know what to do. I can't kill it because I can't get close enough. Plus, it's huge!! I can't put something over it because I am not about to set one foot inside the doorway. And what would I do anyway, with a bowl that's covering a cockroach just handing out on the floor near my bed. No way would I even sleep in the same room as it. I took a picture and send it to Michael to assure him that this thing was huge and I was only partially overreacting. I think he agreed, although he was pretty sure he could have taken care of it for me had it been here.

I was pacing back and forth between my room and the kitchen (quite loudly, apparently), trembling in my rain boots (well, Lauren's rain boots), not sure if I should call the police or the SWAT team. Or at least my friend Jayson. I figured he'd know what to do with it.

I was still on the phone with Michael, convinced I was either going to have to be incredibly brave and take a literal stab at it or totally wimp out and call someone.

As I stared at the horrible huge insect, I had a passing thought that maybe it wasn't a cockroach. In an instant I realized it might actually be a feather. I realized that I did in fact have these interesting blueish/blackish feathers from the mask I made for the burlesque dance I was in....the roach was kind of the same shape as the feathers. And about the right size.

Regardless of this very rational thought, I still couldn't bring myself to actually go into my room.

My ensuing thought process:

It might be a feather.

No.

Definitely a cockroach.

A horrible cockroach!!

Or maybe a feather.

Ok, it's probably a feather.

Definitely a feather.

But it still could maybe be a cockroach? 

I finally got close enough to see that yes, it was in fact a feather. It still took me 10 minutes to get close enough to poke it with a pencil. And then I finally took the rain boots off. And then I eventually, probably 30 minutes after the whole ordeal started, picked up the feather cockroach and threw it away.

I suppose I wasn't actually embarrassed in front of anyone except Michael. And the SWAT team I almost called.

And now all of you.


Oh wait, that was the fake cockroach story after all ;) Hope you enjoyed it!

Let's stand up to cancer...and laugh at Rachel! #2

Time for Round Two! I got another donation-- thank you!!

I could go chronologically in order. But I've decided not to. Let me take you back to the childhood days  of Rachel Clark. This story is called Panties in the Pool.

It's short but hopefully the level of embarrassment is worth it.

For all of my childhood and adolescence, we belonged to this small, semi-private pool called the Teacher's Pool. It was kept alive by some fancy family fund and it was designed to provide a pool for, you guessed it, teachers in the community. I loved the Teacher's Pool. It was not usually super crowded, and I was scared of the big pool where anyone and everyone went, so it made sense that I relished in the relative emptiness and quietness of the Teacher's Pool.

To the embarrassing part.

The Teacher's Pool had two small bathrooms so sometimes we would just take our swim suits with us and change once we got there. I honestly don't know how old I was this particular time, I'm going to say somewhere around 10. Whatever age I was, I know I was far too old for what happened to have actually happened. I went to the girls bathroom, changed into my swim suit, ran back out, tossed my swim bag onto one of those folding lounge chairs and went to get in the water with my sister.

Because I was young, I don't have a stellar memory for all the details. However, I do remember that I was slowly inching my way in to the deep end via the ladder. I got in up to my shins. Then my knees. Then my thighs. Then my stomach. And suddenly, I was like.....something feels weird. It kind of felt like I was wearing a diaper.

That's right, I had accidentally forgotten to take my underwear off. In all of my hurry to change and get in the pool, I had put my swim suit on right on top of my underwear. How on earth I had left it on and not immediately realized it, I seriously do not know. Once I realized I was wearing it, I noticed that it definitely felt like I had multiple layers on. I'm unfortunately guessing that my swim suit didn't even cover all of it. So I had probably run out of the bathroom with underwear visibly underneath my suit. Whether anyone saw, I'll never know.

I honestly don't know if I was obvious enough about it that my sister or my dad realized what had happened but I'm guessing I turned bright red and ran back to the bathroom. I'll have to ask Abby if she knows this story.

I had no other option at that point than to deal with my soaking wet underwear. I think I considered throwing it away. Instead I tried to hide it in my hand as I sprinted to our chairs. I rolled it up in my towel and shoved it in my bag. I don't remember this part but I have a feeling I also had difficulty later when I had to actually use that towel to dry off after swimming and I didn't want to have to explain to anyone why my underwear had been soaking wet.

Whether this is a semi-normal mistake for 8 or 10 year olds, I have no idea. But I must have been really embarrassed, to remember it clearly to this day. The best part I think is that I didn't just start to put on my swim suit and realize I was still wearing something (although that has happened many times), but I actually went through the whole process and even got in the pool. Yeesh.

I remember my 8 or 10 year old brain thinking, "I will never ever ever tell anyone about this."  Well, thanks to that donation-- the cat's out of the bag ;)

Let's stand up to cancer...and laugh at Rachel! #1

If you haven't seen this on my Facebook page yet, I've decided to exchange embarrassing stories about myself for donations to our Relay for Life team, Clark Kent. I realized recently that embarrassing stories are at a premium. People (for good reason) want to put their best foot (and face) forward. I've noticed that this sometimes gives me what (I hope) is a false sense of everyone else's "graceful, charming lives".  Except for professional comedians, I feel like I rarely hear good down-to-earth, "I just massively embarrassed myself" stories....except for when I'm telling them. So now I'd like to share some such stories and assure you all that I do not, in fact, always have a graceful, charming life. I hope I at least make you laugh a little. 

Who knows who will eventually read any of these embarrassing stories....but it's a small price to pay for encouraging some donations so that we can stand up to cancer and help those in their time of need-- just as many people did for my family and I when my grandma and my dad were sick. 

Since I've already had an anonymous donation to my Relay for Life page, it is now time for embarrassing story #1.

This one is called......The Fatal Belch

So I was at my friend's house a few weeks ago. Before I get in to this story too far, I should just disclose one  embarrassing basic fact about myself. I burp. A lot. And not daintily. Loudly and obnoxiously. This burping started sometime around the start of grad school. Before that, I literally could not burp. I would try and try and yet I couldn't make it happen. I didn't actually care that I couldn't- it was just odd to be deficient in this one specific skill. I must have very little muscular control over my diaphragm or whatever muscle actually allows burps to happen. It was almost a pathetic inability to burp, similar to my pathetic inability to roll my Rs. I just plain can't do it. Spit gets everywhere....when trying to roll my Rs. Not when trying to burp. Or maybe in both cases, I don't know.

Anyway, now I burp. Often. I've gotten to a point, perhaps unfortunately, where I really don't try very hard (or at all) to cover it up. Especially if I'm at home, work or a friend's house. So I was at a friend's house, practicing some swing dancing with that friend and another swing dancer friend.

Let me set the stage: we were in the driveway. It was dusk or slightly after. Maybe around 9:00 pm and since it was sometime in late April or early May, it was pretty much dark at that point. I was standing near the garage, under a light. There were some bugs flying around but I hadn't noticed them too much. I was watching my friends practice the routine we were working on. They stopped and came over to talk to me and just as I was going to tell them something I turned my head to the side and let out a fairly forceful burp. It was an odd one. Mostly an exhalation of air, rather than a loud burp.  One of my friends let out a surprised sound just before I actually burped and then immediately cracked up laughing. I could barely get him to stop laughing long enough to tell me what happened.

What happened was this.

 Just as I had turned my head to the side, a moth dove down from the light and flew straight for my mouth. Because of the type of burp this was, the exhaling kind, my mouth was pretty wide open. Apparently the moth was literally inches from just entering my mouth like it was a cozy cave. However, thanks to whatever I had actually exhaled at that very moment, instead of flying into my mouth, the moth...................DIED. That's right. My burp literally killed a moth. It had gotten knocked to the ground due to either the force or the content of my burp. Or both.

Pretty ladylike, huh?

I almost didn't believe my laughing friend, but sure enough, I looked down and there it was. A (really large!) white moth. On the ground. If not dead, at least near its eventual demise. It was a goner.

I suppose I'm grateful it didn't actually make it in my mouth. I also just realized how similar of words "mouth" and "moth" are. Ironic. This would probably have been an equally- or more- funny story had the moth flown straight in. But at least now I know I have a talent as a moth exterminator. As long as I don't know it's there. Because I definitely would not have opened my mouth had I noticed my proximity to the furry white flying creature.

I made my friends promise not to tell anyone. Thanks to the recent donation to my Relay for Life page, however, they no longer have to keep my secret :)

Anyone need any moths taken care of?

Love and grief and a wonderful little kitty

Having finished classes two weeks ago, I figured I'd soon have a chance to write a comprehensive blog post on what the semester was like and how this upcoming summer is looking in terms of my big upcoming "exam" and what all it will entail.

Unfortunately, my week was turned upside down when I found out my cat of 16 years, Scooter, was hurt. The last few days have been somewhat traumatizing and it still feels a little bit like a sad dream that ended in the worst way. I'll admit that he was old (16 healthy years!!) and that I knew someday he would not be with our family anymore, but he's been around for so long it is just hard to comprehend anything else. I spent a sweet morning and afternoon cuddling and brushing him on Thursday and then on Friday Michael and I went back to Newton to be with my family to grieve, but also to look at pictures and remember what fun we had with Scooter.

He was just an amazing kitty. Throughout my elementary-high school years, Scooter would plant himself on dad's lap every morning and stay for as long as possible. In these last few years, he has been wholly devoted to my mom; sleeping in her bed, getting in the way of her feet as she cooked, eagerly awaiting every time she came home. He loved Abby and I too but I think he was a little mad at us for leaving as often as we did. Even after he turned 16, he still could play with his toys like a young kitty. I could never believe how much energy he had, but also how lazy he could be- just curled up on a chair or in front of a window for hours and hours. Scooter had so much personality. His green eyes shone, especially when he would play with a laser or a feather or the light underneath the door that always eluded his grasp. Sometimes he would lick my leg or my hand non-stop until I would push him away or reposition because if I didn't he would lick the same spot until it was raw. Scooty would always keep me company on the couch or in my bed if I had to stay home sick. He would usually comply with my love of putting his leash on him and taking him on a "walk", which usually consisted of basically pulling him to the end of the driveway before he laid down and rolled around in the dust. He would always try to escape our back door as we went in and out but he really just loved the thrill of being outside and typically didn't try to run very far away. We could usually crawl under the cars or truck and drag him back inside.

Scooter let me do crazy things to him, like put him in baskets with my beanie babies and dress him in my Magic Attic doll Heather's dresses and boas and sunglasses and fancy hats. He always looked stunning.

My mom says that grief is the price we pay for love. And I suppose I agree that love wouldn't be nearly as sweet if it were free.....but I sure am tired of paying the price. Then again, I also think that if at the beginning someone told me I could have Scooter only if I agreed to let him go after 24 years, I would have said yes in a heartbeat. The time with him was well worth it. He was such a perfect kitty for our family. Thank you to everyone that ever loved him.

Someday soon I will write about my current life, which includes my comprehensive exam being due June 16th, Michael's trip to Haiti (he leaves tomorrow morning!!) and our super cool Iowa City summer Swing Dance project. I'll try not to wait too long before writing again. This last gap between posts was ridiculous. I think I need to get back to my Friday night blogging habit.

Hope you all are enjoying the start of summer.

I thought 'coding' was what you did when you wanted to send a secret message to your best friend

I am willing to admit that as a 13-year old, my best friend and I made up symbols for certain people and things (boys we liked, girls we didn't like, types of food, places to go after school). She would draw beautiful symbols and I would crudely copy them when trying to formulate a hidden message for her. We also had code names for the same types of things. Part of me wishes I could remember what those code names were. The other part of me is satisfied just knowing we had them, without the embarrassment of actually remembering what they were (for example, I think one particular boy's code name had something to do with falling...because I fell for him. I know what you are thinking...what's embarrassing about that?.....Only everything) Anyway, the maybe-even-more embarrassing part is that as a 21-year old, my friends and I still had codes! Different friends, different code names. Again, for boys. Apparently it's really fun or something.

And this is why it's so shocking to me that I had barely even heard of actual coding, you know, like computer programming, until graduate school. You might think I should have been an expert given my past experience developing our fake 8th grade lexicon and using the words and symbols profusely, much to the chagrin of the boys whose names were subtly hidden by our creative codes. But either no one taught me or (the more likely possibility) I didn't pay attention when I should have figured out that our world of technology is essentially run by foreign, mysterious languages.

When I started my first year at Knox, I had planned to take a computer science course. I thought, that sounds like something I should start to understand. My advisor quickly rearranged my schedule saying, "If you are going to do Neuroscience, you need to get started right away on biology and chemistry. You don't need computer science."

I NEEDED COMPUTER SCIENCE.

Knox rarely led me astray and I have little complaints about my education. However, this is one of them. I admit that no one is really to blame. I just wish someone had said, "Oh, if you are planning to go to graduate school for neuroscience or psychology (which I was planning for all along) maybe you should think about learning some different types of programming. It might come in handy."

It would have come in very handy.

I am doing fine in graduate school (I think). But I do think I've had a slow-ish learning curve with the different types of programming languages that I should be learning by now. For example, we use one language to communicate with the computer operating system, we use another language to tell our very cool computer program what to do to make the experiments we run with participants in our study, we use another language to tell a program what to do with all the numbers (data) we throw at it in order to make sense of our experiment results.

I am still on the beginner side of understanding all of these. The thing that is most striking to me, however, is how much faster I started to learn the second one after I got a handle on learning the first one.  For this reason, if someone said to me "well, you don't need to know HTML (the language used to design many websites), so don't bother learning it",  I would say to them, "It's not the specific language I need to learn....instead, I need to learn how to learn these types of languages." I need to understand the concepts behind why we need symbols and codes to talk to computers. I need to appreciate and be in awe of how much control and flexibility users can have if they know how to use the right tools. I need to feel free to be creative, instead of thinking of using programming languages as "plug-and-chug". As far as I can tell, yes there are grammatical-type rules, and yes there are syntax-type rules, and yes there are definitely spelling rules, but, like writing English, just because you CAN write a message one way, that doesn't mean you HAVE to write the message that way. You can get the same (or better!) idea across in a different way, one that makes more sense to you.

I know this was kind of vague as to what programming languages really are; maybe I will write a more detailed blog about coding in another edition of Stream of [Neuro]science  (http://clarkonneuroscience.blogspot.com/), but for now I just wanted to reflect on how important this skill I do not have is and likely will be in the future. I was inspired to write this by a very fascinating Kickstarter project I stumbled upon. If you're not familiar, Kickstarter is an online platform to share ideas for projects and ask people to be involved by pledging certain amounts of money. The cool thing is that "backers" (the people who provide the moo-la for each project) get rewards from the project based on the amount of money they give. So then, as a backer, I really get to follow each project as the developers make progress. I've already backed many projects, which I get a weird amount of joy out of doing. Anyway, I get emails each week highlighting the coolest Kickstarter projects. This week, the email struck my eye because the subject line read "Projects we love: Code and Canned Goods".  I honestly didn't care so much about the canned goods (it was the idea for an art installation of knitted pieces that looked like spam, beans and tomato soup. creative), but I was intrigued by the Code part. I went on an at least 20 minute adventure reading all about this idea for HelloRuby, a children's book written by a woman computer programming teacher from Finland with the goal of getting children excited about the world of technology and introducing them to programming. Where was this when I was 10??? (Don't worry, mom, you didn't miss anything -- there was no such thing when I was a kid!)

I couldn't stop watching videos of this woman talking about her project and reading about the exciting characters that will be in her book. It looks magical.

And educational. How can you say no to that combination?

My credit card couldn't say no either. If all goes well, sometime within the next year I'll be a proud owner of a hardcover copy of this magical book.

And then I'll have to find some kids who I can teach about coding.

Here is the link to her project page, if you want to see what got me so excited:  https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/lindaliukas/hello-ruby?ref=NewsJan2314&utm_campaign=Jan+23&utm_medium=email&utm_source=newsletter 

Wow, this was a long post. Thanks for reading if you made it all the way through :)  Time for me to go to work and read about developmental neurobiology (how the cells of the spinal cord and brain are formed) and neurophysiology (how electrical signals travel between neurons to convey information throughout the brain. note: it has a lot to do with math and physics. yikes!)

Stay safe and warm :)
-Rachel

Oh!! One more note: I am officially Clark, R.
That means I am an author on a peer-reviewed journal article. It is a review that our lab wrote this summer about how extended sitting can have negative effects on the body and brain because of what happens to our different types of cells and chemicals when we don't move many muscles for long amounts of time.
It's still in press and I'm not sure if this page will allow you to at least see the abstract or not, but it's worth a try
http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S1755296614000027
To celebrate, last week my mom came to Iowa City and we went to a fitness class at the gym on campus and then went out for a healthy brunch. Made my day :)

New year- new post!!

2014. Sounds really futuristic, doesn't it? The other day I literally wrote 2001 on something. As though that were just yesterday. And then I realized that I was 11 years old then. And holy cow, that was a long time ago! I've kind of changed since then...quite a lot actually. 

So it really is 2014. I'm excited for this year. I think it will hold a lot of challenges (not the least of which is the comprehensive exam I have to pass this summer in order to continue working towards my phD!). But I also think it will be a lovely year for many reasons. Being more settled here in Iowa City after a full year of school means I get to teach Zumba regularly, swing dance at least once a week, know where my favorite coffee shops are and what kind of food to order there...lots of things to be thankful for :)

This year will also include some minor traveling. Lots of trips to and from Chicago (location of Michael's med school....and location of Michael). A few swing dance festivals around the midwest. A conference in Georgia (Cognitive Aging Conference). Hopefully another visit to Michigan (Michael's home state). 

Probably not Europe though. Gotta save up for another trip like that one. Maybe in 10 years ;)

It has been such a long time since I've written a blog post, I feel like I've forgotten how to do it! Most of the time I write for me, in such a way that I first presume no one is going to read it and then later decide it's decent enough to be shared. Right now I just feel like I'm writing a Christmas letter! Maybe that's ok, though. It'll probably be a few years before I write a real Christmas letter. Although this wouldn't be a Christmas letter. It would be a 11-days-post-New Year's letter. (and probably not a very good one, at that) But I do hope these have been a good 11 days for you. 

By the way, one of my resolutions for 2014 is to gain direction and focus for what I actually want to spend the majority of my life doing (no, not just swing dancing or teaching Zumba)...my actual career. I'm torn between feeling like I want to teach Neuroscience (or positive psych, or health psych/neuroscience, or something of that nature) and feeling like I want to be in a lab, writing grants, running subjects, developing projects...but I also have a strong feeling that I really want to work on developing projects that can be implemented in communities- to promote activity, wellness and body and brain health. Can I just do all of them? And also maybe write a book? 

Lofty goals. One step at a time. 

Happy 3rd week of 2014 :) 

The funny thing is....

It seems that the weeks I don't have the time needed to write a decent blog post are the weeks I have the most to say! Like the past few. Hence the no new blog posts in a long time! And it's too bad. Because blogging is one of my favorite things. Besides swing dancing, teaching Zumba, being with my family, and hanging (or even just phone chatting) with my boy Michael. And so I can't believe I haven't written in so long. 

I can't write long given that I just spent at least 4 hours cooking food for the week and now it's almost Monday, but I really want to share a little about what's new in life. 

Well, lots of things are new in life. 

Like that new iPhone update that most people hate and I thus far have refused to get. 

Like the fact that it's weirdly still summer weather and yet time has determined that it needs to be October already. 

Like the new Arcade Fire song that is super long and yet the radio station I listen to feels the need to play it multiple times per day (which is fine, because it's awesome!). 

But in MY life, what's new is that I'm finally figuring out some of my unsolved weird/annoying/frustrating health symptoms. About 10 months ago I decided I needed to give up coffee. I was having pretty bad acid reflux and also stomaches later in the day after drinking a latte or espresso in the morning. I was also having a lot of trouble swallowing food and pills. Not drinking coffee seemed to help some with my stomach but I was still drinking at least 3 cups of caffeinated tea per day just because I felt like I needed it. Without it, I would fall asleep at my desk multiple times throughout the day. I was feeling like a terrible grad student and I thought I just wasn't very good at this "real job" thing. I felt foggy most days and still got stomaches nearly every night. 

I did get my swallowing problems figured out and "fixed"as I was diagnosed with Eosinophilic Esophagitis in May, meaning I have an abnormally large autoimmune (allergic) reaction to....we don't know. Some foods. Maybe alcohol. It's hard to tell. But basically, over time I have had eosinophils (a specific type of white blood cell) building up in my esophagus, making it very narrow, which in turn made swallowing very difficult. Thankfully, I was able to have a endoscopy done where they put a camera down my esophagus to look at it, and the camera ended up breaking apart one of these so-called "strictures", where the eosinophils had made it very narrow. And lo and behold, swallowing became much easier! So that's the story of why I've choked so many times in the past, and why I still have to be careful with certain foods and with how much I bite at one time. This also solves the mystery of why I'm such a slow eater!!

But as of a few weeks ago, I hadn't yet solved the mystery of why I couldn't stay awake in class or at work, why I have terrible eczema that my steroid cream doesn't even seem to help, and why my stomach was so uncomfortable almost every night. 

For the past few years I've been subscribed to an email newsletter written by a health coach. I don't even know how I first found this newsletter but I've enjoyed it since and a few times I've seen her promoting her "21 day detox." I didn't think much of this in previous years besides "Oh, I don't need to think about that. That's probably for health nuts or old people." (Admittedly, my rationale was a wee bit...unreasonable)

Anyway, sometime around the end of August, I read again that she was doing this detox from Sept. 15 to Oct. 6th. I couldn't tell exactly what it entailed but the testimonies were so good that I couldn't quite get it off my mind. "Better energy...more alert...better skin...I never knew I was allergic to gluten!...ect, ect"  I started to wonder if going on a super-well-controlled diet would teach my anything about my own system. Not wanting to make a big decision like this on my own, I talked to all the important people in my life about potentially doing this. I was met by some skepticism from both my mom and Michael, but that was totally fine- because I was skeptical too. But one day, about 2 weeks before the detox was scheduled to begin, I decided that if there was even a chance it would help some of my issues, it was worth a try!

Long story short- it really, truly has been worth it. It hasn't been easy, but its a different type of "not easy" than I expected. Yes, I miss cheese. Yes, I kind of crave some chicken every once in awhile. Yes, I really miss chocolate. But honestly, I'm loving the kind of food I am eating now. 

The hard part, really, is how much I have to THINK about what I'm eating. I know I know, I'm studying to get my PhD, you think I'd be okay with thinking. But it takes time. Time to plan all the meals. Time to prep meals ahead of the week so I don't end up eating out at all. Time (and hassle) to take my food for a whole day with me because I often don't go home at all between 7:30 am and 10:00 pm. 

But like I said, it's all been worth it. In the last 14 days (I have 7 days left to go in the detox) I realized that a combination of caffeine, sugar, gluten, dairy and/or meat (at this point I can't exclude anything or really point fingers) was making me tired, bloated, itchy and acne-y. Obviously not everything has just cleared up and become wonderful in the past 14 days. But I feel so much better after eating my food now. I feel full and satisfied...and then I'm able to wait until the next meal without feeling desperate or cranky about being hungry. After a few initial "getting used to the detox" kind of sleepy, foggy days, I have had so much energy all day long. I actually know what it feels like now to sit and read a paper at my desk without realizing halfway through that my eyes are closed. Some of my sleepiness is definitely due to the "not large" amounts of sleep I get. But I honestly think a lot of it was due to the food I was eating!! 

This is a crazy concept to me. And it's crazy because it really shouldn't be crazy. Not at all. It makes complete sense that what we put in our body directly affects how we feel. But I guess I've never experienced such a change in how I feel based on a change in what I've eaten. So I'm still ridiculously impressed with it. 

Ok, I gotta get to bed. I'll write more about the detox again I'm sure. It wraps up in 7 days but honestly, I really want to keep eating like this so I kind of wish it were longer! I think I will stay largely gluten-free and continue avoiding processed "food" in favor of all the delicious fruits and vegetables I've been treating myself to. 

Hopefully this was interesting to anyone who has made it this far with me :) Please let me know if you are curious about this type of detox- I promise it's not a juice cleanse or low-carb diet or any "fad" type of thing like that. It's all about eating real food! Before this, I would've said "Oh, I eat healthy. I eat lots of "real" foods."  And I would have been wrong. This has been a huge learning experience. More later :)

Happy almost-October!

The beauty of a changeable brain

This post has taken me far too long. I started writing it 2 weeks ago, approximately one week after I made a pact with myself to write in my blog every week. I have failed that self pact twice since then. But, regardless, I think this was a worthy post to start and henceforth I shall finish it. I wrote this as I was feeling very mentally disgruntled. I was having some trouble with my mind racing about with unimportant thoughts and it really started to distract me from work. My normal routine at the time was to work while I was at work and then when I came home I generally cooked and cleaned, but while I did that, I would have TV shows or comedy sketches playing on my computer. I enjoyed it and felt like it was pretty normal to have those things on "in the background" while I was semi-productive, because what was I going to do otherwise?.....Think for myself? Contemplate life's mysteries? Brainstorm for genius ideas for work?

I should have. I should have done all of those things. But instead I was saturating my brain with entertainment because that felt easier. Until I started feeling a little out of control. Then it was slightly less easy and perhaps even a little dangerous. When you constantly have things entering your brain through your eyes and ears, you get a little less good at being in that space by yourself, and you (or at least I) tend to be less okay with it being just plain quiet. So I realized I needed to change that, and I declared a (however short) moratorium on all things falling under the category of addictive media. To me that is basically TV shows and iPhone games. I still allowed myself to listen to music and to watch Zumba DVDs because that's actually for a job, so it's semi-important. And it's fun. And educational.

So basically Zumba was in, everything else was out.

Then, throughout the two weeks since then I wrote a few times so I'll throw those mini-posts in here and then I'll wrap up with something really insightful. Ready?


Maybe it's all in my head. In fact, I think it really is all in my head. But something has to change.

I've become addicted to too many things. Although, having said that, I don't actually know how many things is the "perfect number to be addicted to." Don't worry, none of these things involve anything seriously harmful or illegal in any way. But nonetheless, it's damaging to my brain and my sense of wellness. I can feel it.

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It's been 5 days since I watched TV or played any iPhone games. It's smaller than a drop in the bucket in terms of time and it's miniscule in terms of the other forms of media to which I expose my brain. But it was something, nonetheless. And it helped. I really did stop getting the urge to open a game or turn on a tv episode any time I was doing something semi-mindless around the house (cooking, cleaning, folding clothes). In the past few weeks I found myself playing clips of comedians or a new episode of the Danish show I am so fond of anytime I had a free moment or a moment doing chores. And when one was over, I would automatically press play for the next one. I was simultaneously addicted to it and disgusted by it. Which I suppose is how most, maybe all, addictions are. 

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I came home last night after work and upon deciding that I should enjoy my last evening of "summer", I didn't even consider sitting in bed watching tv or lounging around playing games on my phone. Instead, I automatically thought of how much Zumba I could do and how I could finally clean my desk and fold those clothes that had been laying in a heap at the foot of my bed. As minuscule as my little experiment in "TV purging" has been, I really do feel surprisingly different. 


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 As a neuroscientist (an aspiring one, at least) I shouldn't be so surprised that we can change our brains. I KNOW we can. And yet it shocked me that I did; that I, fairly easily, reduced my excessive compulsion to play a game or have people talking at me so I didn't have to generate thoughts myself.
I understand that it's not much, and that I'd have to do a lot more to diminish the other addictive behaviors I have (sugar craving being a large one; Facebook-checking being another), but I'm pleased nonetheless. I oddly do feel much freer and also more in control. I felt a weird amount of obligated every time I would watch TV shows, knowing that there were so many other episodes to be watched. It was such strong persuasion to keep pressing play, even when I was only paying half-attention to each passing episode. But why was it my responsibility to watch them? It's nice to realize it's not my responsibility.

Yes, there's a time and a place for enjoyment of most forms of media and yes, I'm still going to watch my favorite Danish show again one of these days, but it was really useful for me to start feeling sufficiently satisfied with my own thoughts and to really enjoy some peace and quiet.

Especially going in to this new semester (this will technically be my last year of classes!!), I'm grateful to start on a slightly-more-balanced foot than I was previously when I felt largely dependent on external things to preoccupy my mind.

Maybe I didn't end up saying anything especially insightful but I better end this for now because I have an early morning wake up call for a beautiful Iowa countryside bike ride with my lab mates.

Happy back to school season to all :)

Finding my niche. Possibly a niche that doesn't exist. Yet.

Note: This was originally intended for my science blog but it got a little too "fluffy" so I will save that blog for some hard science and put this here instead :)


I'm convinced that as we get a little bit older and supposedly start figuring our lives out, we all are expected to be comfortable answering the common "What do you want to be when you grow up?"-type questions. I'm pretty sure it's still a difficult question with fairly-naive-to-our-own-future answers, but because we answer it so often we develop catch phrases. We tend to stick with those catch phrases and since they seem to satisfy the general public...voila! We have a planned, believable future. This becomes a little trickier, however, when you are actually working on a degree and people start asking about your quickly approaching future. Upon hearing my answer, they generally begin with that concerned face, along with the "ooooohhhh" sound that means they think I'm in for torture. And then they say.

"So...neuroscience. Hmm. If you aren't going to cut brains open (because I constantly reassure people that I will not be performing brain surgery), what on earth are you going to do with that?"

I have to be totally honest (partly because this is a blog and I'm pretty sure you are supposed to be honest on blogs, but also because I'm a terrible liar)...this is a really difficult question for me.
What am I going to do with my degree?
Well, first I'm going to get it.
And then I'm probably going to be really happy about it.
And then....

My common answer is that I want to do research, likely at the University level. I love coming up with ideas and questions that we can answer in a systematic, detailed way. I enjoy collaborating with others. I like analyzing data because numbers are fun and you can make pretty graphs. I also enjoy teaching and mentoring students.

But sometimes my gut makes fun of my when I answer that question because I'm not sure I can see myself running a lab, analyzing data and having the title of Dr. Clark.  Oh wait, that part I can see. And I like it.

Here's the thing. My gut tells me that in a million years...which is when I'll finally have worked my way through classes, the comprehensive exam, the prospectus and a dissertation to get this degree....I might end up with a career that isn't even invented yet. It sounds like a silly thing to say, but the more I contemplate it, the more I believe it could be true. Technology is moving at such a rapid pace that I know many people who work, for example, with computers, who wouldn't have guessed at age 23 that that would be their future career. Science, as a field, is also moving at an incomprehensible speed. I actually find it incredibly exciting to think that, right now, I cannot even picture the career I might have.

This topic stemmed from a magnet that I have on my refrigerator that reads "What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?" Someone recently asked me, "So, Rachel, what would it be?"

My immediate answer was "This." I'd do neuroscience, I'd try to get my PhD, I'd research exercise and cognition and I would learn as much as possible. It just wouldn't be as stressful as it sometimes is in real life, where failure sometimes looms ominously over my desk as I read articles, memorize the cranial nerves, revise papers, analyze data and write in my blog.

While that is true, I'd still do neuroscience because I love it, I realized that I'd also do so many other things. I would learn as many cool swing dance moves as possible and then throw myself on a lively dance floor with the best dancers I know so my unfailing self could take over and turn my into a vintage swing dance goddess.

I'd do a triathlon, which I currently contemplate doing because I love both swimming and biking but the running itself is incredible daunting given my weak knees, my pulled hamstring and my annoying asthma.

I'd find all kinds of crafty projects (like artwork and furniture) to furnish my current apartment or future home...and then I'd actually do them because they'd be wildly successful, instead of the flop that sometimes occurs after such an artsy attempt.

Finally, I'd also write a book. Fellow scientists, don't get fiesty about this....but I'd write a popular science book. Because those are my favorite type of science to read on vacation. So I would write the most scientifically legitimate popular science book that I possibly could. And since I could not fail, given the nature of the question I've rhetorically posed to myself, the book would ultimately be incredible. It'd be funny and witty and influential and educational. By the way, "popular science", as a genre, just refers to the nonfiction style of book that discusses "hot topics" in science, in a way that engages even the least sciency person among us.

Background story: I fell in love with exercise neuroscience a few years ago when I read a popular science book about "The Revolutionary New Science of Exercise and the Brain". I couldn't put it down. I didn't even know exercise neuroscience was a field...let alone a flourishing one! I'm convinced that was a major factor in leading me to this line of research. I would receive such enjoyment from being one of those author/speaker/creator people bridging the gap between science and the public. 

This is another part of a career I think I may someday have. I want to help incorporate scientific findings into realistic lifestyle changes. It sounds utopian, but people are currently working toward that goal. Lifestyle trackers (which is a whole topic for another day) are just one way scientific research is pushing its way into everyday life. I want to somehow be somewhere in that movement.

Oh- and of course I'd still blog. Which is kind of like a no-fail situation already because even if you all hate my blog, I never have to see the disdain on your face as you read it or hear the mocking laughter as you poke fun at me with all your friends. I just get to see how many people have visited my posts and ignorantly assume everyone loves it ;)

Ok, I got a little off track but, in conclusion, if I could not fail, I would be a swing dancing exercise neuroscientist and author of a pop-sci book that changes the world.

What would you do? 

Super moon

I suppose I inadvertently made my three blog night come true. My screen froze while I was typing the first post and I didn't want to lose it so I just published it and now I'll wrap it up with this post. 

Moral of the story- I don't think I have enough time or energy to actually put much of myself into all these different online "social medias" but since I am a member of this generation, I'll do my best and that will just have to be good enough. I'm not sure my humor will really shine in just 140 characters, but I'm kind of looking forward to giving this tweeting thing a try. 

On a final and less tech-y note, I hope you all have taken at least one look at this super moon that is hovering over us right now. I'm relaxing on our balcony with the moon at a perfect 45 degree angle to my eyes, with the light of it reflecting a bit off our pond behind the apartment building. It's worth the time and the bugs to just sit and stare at it for awhile. To think about how far away it actually is, but how close it looks. To picture the intense light coming from the sun and reflecting off every part of the moon so that we can see it in its full shape. Yeah, it's worth it to sit and stare for awhile. 

And who knows, maybe I'll have to Instagram it ;)

Goodnight super moon. 

 

It's a two blog night

That was supposed to be funny. But then I realized that the band name is actually three dog night and so my joke suddenly made much less sense. But I hope you at least got a small chuckle out of that.

I just wrote my second post in my science blog (www.clarkonneuroscience.blogspot.com, if you are already bored of this post and want some science), hence the two blog night title. I had to hold myself back while writing it from a few really cheesy jokes and from using too many lingo words. So, lucky you, I'm going to use all of those here! I think that's the beauty of having two blogs. Provided I don't neglect one of them, I will always have a nice place to blow off my blog steam after being all nice and proper.

So now I have to talk about something besides science. Hmmm...I obviously hadn't thought this far ahead. Let's start by talking about how I am now a full-flegged member of the social interwebs. And I don't know how I feel about it. I now have, in no particular order,
Facebook
Blog (obviously)
Twitter
Instagram
LinkedIn
Facetime

I got an iPhone recently due to the very heartbreaking end of my blackberry. My poor Sprock 2.0 (my first blackberry was named Sprock, but then it broke and when I got my new blackberry, he became 2.0 because, try as he might, he couldn't quite replace Sprock 1.0). Anyway, his battery had been wearing out gradually, such that he'd turn off partway through the morning after only being awake for a few hours. I guess I do that sometimes so I can't complain too much. But the breaking point was when he turned off when his battery wasn't even low and he wouldn't turn back on until I had fully charged him. And even then he was hesitant. So I took him in for repair and the Sprint employees informed me that I was due for a few phone and the iPhone 4 was free so why don't I just get a new one. Well, ok. If you insist.

So now I have Ollie (shout out to Dan for coming up with the awesome name!) And because I haven't quite gotten used to keyboard-less texting yet, I feel as though I constantly have my nose to my phone. I walk down the street and feel the same way I did when I was little and would literally have my nose in a book. But that was way cooler. Now I look up in time to stop at a red light and suddenly I've sent a text that read "How's it king over tree? Having a food day?" (translation: How's it going over there? Having a good day?)

And then I feel ridiculous.

ANYWAYS, back to me and my social interwebs, because I'm a newly addicted iphone-addict I've jumped on the apps bandwagon and got myself connected to the world in more ways than necessary. I'll admit that I'm already enjoying instagram because it gives me more reason to take fake-artistic photos and pretend that every view of my life looks like that. But to best honest, I don't know how to link in, or twit or...I guess that's it. I know how to do everything else.

The point of this is that I don't know how I feel about it. I do love staying connected with people through facebook and I think I chose good people to follow on Twitter because the two times that I've checked it since I got it I've seen posts about science, swing dancing and the Veronica Mars movie. What more can I need?






fds

Final destination: Barcelona

Rick Steves' calls Barcelona a lovely place to visit either first of last because of its coastal and far Eastern location. For me, it was my final destination. Michael still has Paris to go (he'll head there tomorrow) but I'm now on my way home :(
I was super excited for Barcelona partly because I had been there before and partly because we had rented this super cold apartment. We first found the bed and breakfast that owned the apartment, we were going to book just one of the rooms, but then we also saw that they owned an apartment nearby and...it was super grey! And modern. And it wasn't actually that expensive so we decided to go for it. It had its own kitchen, a huge tv, a great speaker system. This allowed us to cook dinner two of the three nights, which was really nice after all the eating out we'd done recently.  And nice because Michael is a pretty good cook :)

Our first day in Barcelona was a Sunday so we kind of took it easy. We had breakfast with the owner and other guests at the bed and breakfast. He helped us buy our tickets for La Sagrada Familia and gave us some other advice. We walked to the two of the famous buildings by Antonio Gaudi, La Pedrera and Casa Batillo.
They are both really crazy buildings. Hannah and I went in one of them when we visited previously but they are pretty expensive so Michael and I decided to just admire the outside. We then went to a park, per my request, because I just wanted as much time outside in the wonderful weather as possible. Barcelona actually has many "green lungs" (parks that provide some fresh air in the midst of city living). This one was focused on water and had multiple ponds and some interesting architecture. We also found the recreational sports area where we napped and then played hacky sack. Add that location to the list. Michael says I should also make a list of places I've napped. Honestly, it would largely be similar to the one of places I've hacky-ed.

Our second, and my final, day in Barcelona was our 'best tourists ever' day. We woke up early and got to La Sagrada Familia for our 9 am appointment to go up the tower. It was as beautiful as I remember. And we did the audio guide so we actually learned a lot as well. The church is already huge but compared to the model of what it should look like when its done, it has a ways to go. Supposedly it will be finished within the next 40 years. It was started in 1889. But, as we learned, Gaudi knew it would be a work of the centuries, so he was not expecting it to be even near finished by the time he died. It's quite amazing how many people have come together to design it and how they all try to be true to the Gaudi style even though many of his plans were burned during a Spanish war.

After spending a few hours at the church, we walked down to la rambla, one of the most famous streets in barca. We perused the central market and enjoyed some food, as well as suuuuper expensive chocolate. Nothing bad had even happened so I guess that chocolate was just for fun. We finally made it down to the water, which we enjoyed before taking the metro up to Parc Guell, also designed by Gaudi. It was there that we discovered that if both our careers fail, we can just got to a European city, play hacky sack and put a hat out and we'd probably make at least a few euros everyday. That was a fun realization. One more place on the lists of both napping and hacky-ing.

That evening we went to a tapas bar I had found for Michael's early birthday celebration. He'll be 23 on Friday, when he's in Paris, so I wanted us to celebrate while in barca. We enjoyed delicious tapas, some of the best sangria I've ever had and traditional Catalan deserts.

I'm disappointed I didn't have more time to explore the city, because there is so much to see there, but I am also antsy to get back to work. This was a lot of time off. I thought about reading articles and doing some work while away but there really wasn't time for it. Im pretty sure I won't get another vacation like this for a long time so I decided to just focus on the vacationing, which I did. I'm now on the way home- I can hardly believe it. It feels like forever ago that I was just arriving in Denmark. I'm very grateful for this adventure and so glad I had a great travel buddy. I never would have gone all those places if Michael wasn't set on having a massive Europe trip.

We just started the descent over Chicago airport, where we'll land in 40 minutes. I fly from there to Des Moines. I can't wait to see my mom!

All of Nice in one post.

Our host in Nice was a spunky woman who had lived pretty much everywhere, speaks at least Italian, French, English and Spanish, and baked the most delicious fresh bread for breakfast each day. She sat with us and other guests at breakfast each day so we learned her story a bit and also got expert advice on the city. The first day, upon Josephine's advisement, we went to the main market in Nice in the morning and then visited one of the fanciest hotels I've ever seen. The market was a few city blocks of tables filled with fresh fruit, dried fruit, fresh fish, meat, cheese, flowers, paintings, ect. We also found an Italian market on the promenade near the water, so we bought a canoli and some cheese and a sandwich and ate while sitting on the beach. One thing that really surprised me was how many people were laying out in bikinis (or less) at 10 ish in the morning.  I though it was still as bit chilly for that but it was good sun, I suppose. I just trout that'd be more of an afternoon activity but apparently not. And it turned out to be smart of them, given that a storm rolled in that afternoon, while we were riding bikes that we had rented. Thankfully we rode away from it so we only got a little wet.  Nice, as Josephine told us, is sunny 300 days a year because there are mountains/hills surrounding it and so the clouds rarely come all the way to the city. They did come in a little that day. We had to abandon the bikes a little early and take refuge in various souvenir shops and one very expensive candy shop while we waited for the restaurant we wanted to eat at to open. Michael and I have a habit of getting candy whenever we get in a tiny argument or something semi-unfortunate happens. It's similar to my "get hurt, get froyo" motto. Because of the rain, we ended up with some rather expensive biscuits, chocolate covered almonds, caramels and fruit flavored chewy candies, basically just fancy starbursts. Fun fact, in Denmark and many other European counties, food coloring is illegal so all of their candies are flavored naturally, which keeps them white, rather than the bright colors our candy is.
Anyway we finally had some pasta and afterward, again upon Josephine's recommendation, visited what she claimed was the best gelato place. She swears by it. And I see why. It had the best pistachio gelato I've ever had and every other flavor we tried (which was a lot - the worker was very generous with samples) tasted exactly of its fruit/candy. Pistachio, dark chocolate, peach, white chocolate, chocolate raspberry, cinnamon, mango, strawberry, dark chocolate baobab, salted caramel...I'm hungry just thinking about it.

Our second day was our most adventurous. We walked up a big hill full of fancy mansions and hotels to the Matisse museum and roman archeological ruins, which was pretty cool to see. I kind of didn't realize that Romans had lived there but it is very close to Italy so it makes sense. They had excavated public baths and a neighborhood in an area surrounded by modern city, so it's likely there are even more ruins underground in the surrounding area. The Matisse museum was fun because t was small enough we could really read through everything and tent lot know Henri Matisse's life and work. I had no idea he designed a church and he considered it his life's main piece of work. It was no La Sagrada Familia (more on that to come) but it was pretty neat.

We walked back to the city to catch a train to a beach town about 10 minutes away. Have I mentioned how beautiful the water near Nice was? It was the best blue. So clear, and when it foams from the waves it basically sparkles. We spent the afternoon beach-ing, which I loved. It wasn't super warm but laying in the sun was nice and we both got brave enough around 5 pm to swim in the sea enough to make us completely numb from the cold.

When we got back to Nice, we walked through Old Town to a hill called chateau hill, where a castle used to stand. Now it is a park with a cemetery, a waterfall, great lookout points and a tower at the very top. We got there  a few minutes before 8 and watched the sunset from a lookout point and then visited the waterfall. We were surprised there weren't more people enjoying the same view. Wen we got to the bottom of the hill and realized one of the main gates was closed and locked, we realized why we had been so alone. It was closed. And there was a wall we could have scaled...except it dropped at least 30 feet to the busy road below. No thank you. Some French girls on the other side of the gate laughed at us and repeatedly told us "it's closed". Thank you, we know that now. We speed-walked toward another exit and assed some delinquent 14-year old French boys who also told us, "hey! Is closed!" And had only laughs in response to my "yes, but how do we get out?" Just as Michael and I were near panic state (where are both excellent, calm travelers but when you think you are going to be sleeping in a French park all night, you tend to get a little worried) we found the other locked car gate, which was next to a little pedestrian door that was unlocked. Phew! And so we went to a little restaurant that Josephine suggested for a lovely, very late dinner. When almost locked in a park, buy yourselves a nice meal of veal and pasta and some pannacotta for desert.

Because our meal had ended around 1130, we ditched the getting up early tradition. W slept in a little, packed our stuff, walked to a nearby market, got a final gelato from that amazing place, and then walked to the station for our bus to the airport. That was it for nice and it was soon Hola Barcelona!

To Nice

The first of our 3 legs of the train ride to Nice is gorgeous so far, at least the parts I've been awake for. Which is probably like one tenth of the actual ride. I keep falling asleep and waking up when my head bobs all the way to my chest, and Michael is laughing at me from his seat. He's actually reading about Nice, being productive. At least one of us will know what is going on when we get there.

I'm very sad to have left cinque Terre. I can't wait to write about it. It was unlike anywhere I have ever been before. A wonderful place to relax and enjoy a few lazy days. We did do some hiking, but the conditions weren't good enough for us to do quite as much as we wanted so instead we went in shops and, when the sun finally came out, we laid out on the rocks and dangled our feet in the Mediterranean sea. Which is beautiful. And when the sun shines on it, it's my very favorite color of blue. And even when the sun doesn't shine on it, it's a nice grey. Again, win-win.

Cinque Terre: Corniglia and Riomaggiore

The last full day in cinque terre, we visited the two other towns, Corniglia and Riomaggiore. It was a rainy day so we umbrellaed around Corniglia after walking up the 400 some steps to the town. We took many Panoramic photos, shopped a little and took the train to Riomaggiore. The sun came out just in time for some shopping ;) and then a picnic lunch on the rocks.


We had a bit of a tradition of getting up extra early on our last day in a place and walking somewhere. Innsbruck, it was to the garden. Florence it was around the olive grove. But the most impressive, and scary, was the morning we left cinque Terre. We wanted a good view of the sunrise so we left the hostel at 615 and headed up a trail towards this hill town called volastra. It was overcast, with a chance of rain. The path was steep and less protected than I expected. It would have been a great view of sunrise. If there had been a sunrise. We got about 20 minutes in to the supposedly 35 minute hike to volastra when I chickened out and made up turn around. I just figured better safe than sorry and we were not really prepared to face rain on the muddy hillside. As Michael said, the clouds were ominous and better safe than sorry.

We safely made it back to town, picked up bread and Nutella and fruit from the little co op grocery store in town and packed up all our stuff in time for our 10 am train.
Our route took us to Genova and Ventimiglia and lastly to Nice, where we stayed in an adorable bed and breakfast called Chez Josephine.

I believe I have a post already written about the ride from Italy to Nice so I will post that at some point but for now I'll just say that it was amazing. Upon arrival in Nice we had pasta for dinner and gelato for dessert and we watched a 4 man dance group on the street, which was very entertaining even though they actually were not very impressive dancers. It all almost made up for having to leave the wonderful Cinque Terre behind.  Almost.

Cinque Terre: Monterosso and Vernazza

The second day began with a visit to the church we had walked to the night before. It had a stained glass window on the front that was carved out of marble, but was so intricate that it looked more like lace. This style actually appeared in at least 3 of the churches that we visited in the 5 cities.

Our goal was to visit all 5 cities in our 2 days so we had to get started. We hit up Monterosso first, since we had seen it the day. It was every bit as adorable even without the lemon festival- we walked by the water, saw the town church, ate at a little cafe.

We also observed a wedding photo shoot in progress, as well as the couple walking down the tunnel from the train and a lovely tunnel performer who accompanied the couple with a wedding march. We also ran into them in the next town, where they were taking photos on the beach. Standing on the rocks. In the wind. Adorable.

Cnque Terre is a great area for hiking. The towns are so close together that you could hike trails from one end to the other in a day. A long day, but a day. But you can easily hike from one town to the next in part of a day. So we took the 2 hour hike from monterosso to vernazza. It was along the coast the whole way, with amazing views, and lots of stairs! There were multiple "dangerous pathways" along  the hike but it was really fun.  And supposedly it's one of the most 'rewarding' because at the end of it you get to be in vernazza. Equally adorable, with a lovely little church and one of the best gelato places we'd been to. Gelato de amor...the gelato of love. And love it we did.


The waves were intense that day and we sat and watched them, and almost got swept away at one point! We walked to a different place on the rocks and I played in the waves in a shallow area. Michael was camera-ready in they've that I got smoked by the wave. Unfortunately for him, I did not :)

The wedding couple was on these rocks taking pictures as well.

That evening we went to the very top of the Manarola hill for dinner, where we had more scampi and some of the best pasta I'd had all throughout Italy. And also a hilarious waiter. I took forever to eat my food, as always so I was about half done and Michael was almost finished when the waiter came by and said "don't say you give up...I can kill you." Of course, said with irony and the nice Italian accent, we didn't take him too seriously.  But we absolutely finished that food. And we were glad we did :)

He also did some magic tricks and we bet him our dinner bill that he couldn't guess the card . And then we owed him ten dollars because of course he guessed our card. We happily tipped him.

Cinque Terre I - arrival and a lemon festival

As hard as it is to pick a favorite from all the places we went- because I honestly loved all of them- I now have a slight preference towards the Cinque Terre. The elation I felt as our train burst forth from the dark tunnel and the sunlight and blue water of the Mediterranean Sea met my eyes was pretty much indescribable.   Even though I really enjoyed Florence, I was hankering for some water. And with the Cinque Terre, I got it.  As far as our eyes could see was gorgeous water. And as far as our peripheral vision could see was coastal hills and adorable villages (though you have to get closer to see how colorful they really are because peripheral vision cannot see color...just a little science for you ;)


Cinque Terre also scored some points based on the place we stayed. It may sound superficial, but the place you stay absolutely changes your view of the city.
My expert trip planner and travel buddy had discovered this sort-of hostel, more like hotel, in the city of Manarola. Oh, a little orientation,"Cinque Terre" means five cities. And, surprise, it's made up of 5 cities, which are all buried in the hillside of the Italian riviera. It's a major tourist hot spot, meaning we heard more English than Italian and Michael even saw someone he knew from Grinnell. The cities are (in south to north order): Riomaggiore, Manarola, Corniglia, Vernazza, and Monterosso.

Ok, so the place we stayed was right across from the train station in Manarola, meaning we only had to walk about 10 steps up the hill, which was great with our backpacks. Everything in Manarola is on a hill. The town begins down at the harbor and then climbs steeply up. Our fancy hostel was run by Simone, a super helpful guy who clued us in on an iPhone app he created that had restaurants, beaches, train schedules, ect for the area. He also supplied us with a corkscrew on one occasion during our stay :)

Our room was large and simply decorated- looked as though it came right out of Ikea. Which I loved!

Wen we checked in, Simone told us that Monterosso was having its annual lemon festival and it was only that day so we must check it out.  After tossing our stuff on the bed, we hopped on the train and went to Monterosso. It was adorable! Lemons, lemon juice, lemon pastries, and lemon souvenirs were everywhere! The whether was perfect and we just walked around admiring everything until we decided we were hungry enough that we must try some lemon specialities. We also saw a great local "band"....well, it was a group of people in traditional-type clothing, walking through the streets, singing, clapping, playing some instruments and engaging all the passers-by in their songs. We followed them through town until I got distracted by a store (which happened fairly often on this trip). Michael also had found a cute art store that had paintings he really enjoyed so we looked around there. Turned out it was also a custom jewelry store so I'm now the proud owner of a wonderful "made in Italy" necklace. And we had a nice chat with the American-born, now Italian citizen, owner of the shop.
Before long we headed back to Manarola for dinner at one of the four restaurants in the town. It was actually very nice having just 4 places to choose from. And having them all be basically next door to our hostel.  I enjoyed unpeeled scampi for the 2nd time (Michael is now a champ at peeling them for me) and then tried pannacotta, a popular Italian dessert. Popular for good reason, I'd say.

We then tried to watch the sunset from a hill on the edge of town that juts out into the water but it was a little cloudy so we vowed to come back another night, which we did. We also climbed up the main town hill to a church that we were planning to go see the next day and to a good nighttime overlook of the town. Even though the towns bustle with tourists during the day, at night they are quiet and peaceful.  And with that view...pretty good way to end a day