This morning, I took the GRE Subject test in Biochemistry, Cell and Molecular Biology. It was much harder than the one practice test the ETS gave us. The test is supposed to reflect what undergraduate coursework looks like, but the ETS's idea of what that was in 2005 seems more similar to what I actually learned these last couple years.
When I take tests, I tend to use my intuition a lot. I analyze it and see if it might be wrong for any of the usual reasons (which I've learned from taking myriad tests - always mark up/write your thoughts on the paper so you can see what you were thinking when you get it back), but for the most part, I trust it. And I do pretty well. As long as I was paying good attention when I first learned it in class, it sticks with me. The details don't necessarily remain as they are, but their place in my understanding of the topic is preserved. To put it more simply, I have a map in my head. Sometimes, the names of the towns along the route may be missing, but their locations are still marked.
That's the way my intuition works. Because of this, some days it's really good, and some days (particularly if I haven't slept soundly/enough)...not so much.
The problem with this is that I don't know how I did on a test until I get it back. This time around, there were many questions where I could narrow it down to two or three choices, and then I had to choose based on what I was leaning toward. So I'll just have to wait (6 weeks!) and see.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Goldilocks and the Three Bears
My first semester at Berkeley, I took 19 units. Sounds like a lot, but it wasn't really, because Chem 1a was easy after AP Chem, and Elementary Telugu - well, I could already speak, read, and write a little. It was nice, and I had time to go hang out with friends, explore the city, etc. Second semester was much the same, but with the addition of organic chemistry. But it was still okay.
Fall of sophomore year, I only took 17 units. Thing is, those 17 units comprised OChem, Bio, Physics, and Global Poverty. You know, easy classes that don't require you to spend multiple hours per class in lab and don't have much homework or reading or difficult midterms. Not at all.
...
Well, that plus all the time I had to spend for the ballroom dancing team meant I was constantly doing homework or reading or practicing cha cha or studying for a midterm.
"This porridge is too hot!" exclaimed Goldilocks.
So the next semester, I only put the porridge in the microwave for 13.5 seconds/units (the minimum). I quit ballroom as part of the mass exodus that occurred with those who joined our year (many factors, including politics, were involved here). 'Yay,' I thought. 'I have time to join a new club!' But now I had more time than I knew what to do with. I took the yongmudo P.E. class to replace the martial arts I had left at home. I did community service-type stuff with CalPIRG and the Berkeley Project. And still I was bored.
"This porridge is too cold," Goldilocks complained.
At some point, I managed to strike a balance. I realized that I'd much rather be busy than bored, and that I in fact work more efficiently when I am busy. I procrastinate more when I'm not, which leads to more stress even though I don't need to be stressed.
"Ahhh, this porridge is just right," sighed Goldilocks.
But this semester, my porridge is boiling again. And this time, I'm not sure I can get through it with swimming colors like last time. Two languages at the intermediate level, a neuroanatomy class with lab, psychology, and a reflection course for my practice, along with research for an honors thesis, yongmudo club, arranging sites for Berkeley Project day, and helping out with the salsa class. Oh, and by the way, I'm trying to take the General and Subject GRE tests and apply to grad school. You know, in my free time.
"Ouch, I think I burned my tongue!" cried Goldilocks.
Fall of sophomore year, I only took 17 units. Thing is, those 17 units comprised OChem, Bio, Physics, and Global Poverty. You know, easy classes that don't require you to spend multiple hours per class in lab and don't have much homework or reading or difficult midterms. Not at all.
...
Well, that plus all the time I had to spend for the ballroom dancing team meant I was constantly doing homework or reading or practicing cha cha or studying for a midterm.
"This porridge is too hot!" exclaimed Goldilocks.
So the next semester, I only put the porridge in the microwave for 13.5 seconds/units (the minimum). I quit ballroom as part of the mass exodus that occurred with those who joined our year (many factors, including politics, were involved here). 'Yay,' I thought. 'I have time to join a new club!' But now I had more time than I knew what to do with. I took the yongmudo P.E. class to replace the martial arts I had left at home. I did community service-type stuff with CalPIRG and the Berkeley Project. And still I was bored.
"This porridge is too cold," Goldilocks complained.
At some point, I managed to strike a balance. I realized that I'd much rather be busy than bored, and that I in fact work more efficiently when I am busy. I procrastinate more when I'm not, which leads to more stress even though I don't need to be stressed.
"Ahhh, this porridge is just right," sighed Goldilocks.
But this semester, my porridge is boiling again. And this time, I'm not sure I can get through it with swimming colors like last time. Two languages at the intermediate level, a neuroanatomy class with lab, psychology, and a reflection course for my practice, along with research for an honors thesis, yongmudo club, arranging sites for Berkeley Project day, and helping out with the salsa class. Oh, and by the way, I'm trying to take the General and Subject GRE tests and apply to grad school. You know, in my free time.
"Ouch, I think I burned my tongue!" cried Goldilocks.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
We Really Aren't Smart
We're human. As such, our brains tend to look for patterns in everything we see. That is, after all, how we survived back when ancient leopards were hunting ancient men. We had to be able to (ahem) spot a small pattern of spots in the wilderness surrounding us.
Now, though, we have so much information constantly raining down on us that we can't help but make patterns from things that really are unrelated. We don't like coincidence because it's just not quite as satisfying as a conspiracy.
Have you ever experienced the feeling that you're psychic? As in, you're thinking about somebody and at that very moment, they call your phone? Or you're talking about someone and they pop up out of nowhere - speak of the devil, right?
Well, the two events really had no causal relationship. How often have you been in a situation where you were thinking about somebody when somebody totally different called? You probably don't remember, because your brain simply doesn't take note of such a mundane event. You only remember the times when there is a connection to be made.
A lot of the patterns we see in the world only exist because we assign meaning to them. It's not always 11:11 or 12:34 when you look at the clock. You tend to forget the times that seem less interesting. These two times are simply more noticeable because of the way our number system works. The chances of you looking up at 12:33 or 11:12 are probably just about the same as the "make a wish" times.
David McRaney over at You Are Not Smart has an excellent post on the way we find patterns where there are none, a behavior known as the Texas Sharpshooter Fallacy. Go give it a read.
Now, though, we have so much information constantly raining down on us that we can't help but make patterns from things that really are unrelated. We don't like coincidence because it's just not quite as satisfying as a conspiracy.
Have you ever experienced the feeling that you're psychic? As in, you're thinking about somebody and at that very moment, they call your phone? Or you're talking about someone and they pop up out of nowhere - speak of the devil, right?
Well, the two events really had no causal relationship. How often have you been in a situation where you were thinking about somebody when somebody totally different called? You probably don't remember, because your brain simply doesn't take note of such a mundane event. You only remember the times when there is a connection to be made.
A lot of the patterns we see in the world only exist because we assign meaning to them. It's not always 11:11 or 12:34 when you look at the clock. You tend to forget the times that seem less interesting. These two times are simply more noticeable because of the way our number system works. The chances of you looking up at 12:33 or 11:12 are probably just about the same as the "make a wish" times.
David McRaney over at You Are Not Smart has an excellent post on the way we find patterns where there are none, a behavior known as the Texas Sharpshooter Fallacy. Go give it a read.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Circadian Rhythms
Umm...so I was going to write something about circadian rhythms in research, but I keep putting it off because my own circadian clock and homeostat have been doing battle. Once I get a little more sleep, I'll update this.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Brainzzzz
Last Thursday, I had my first lab for my Mammalian Neuroanatomy class. We got some human brains to look at, touch and play with a little, and then sheep brains to begin the dissection. Well, it was mostly preparation because it was the first day. We cut off the dura mater (the outer meninge, or membrane, that covers the brain/spinal cord), and took a peek at the pineal gland (in olden days, the purported seat of the soul) before returning the brains.
The term dura mater literally means "tough mother", and it really is a tough mother of a membrane. The pia mater, the innermost of the three layers, is soft and sticks to the brain. The arachnoid mater is a spider-webby network of membrane in between the two, through which cerebrospinal fluid (CSF) flows. But the dura (from what I could tell through my gloves) feels a bit like tightly woven cloth, and is not very stretchy.
See that stuff peeled off to the side and labeled "1"? That's the dura mater. That's really how thick it is.
The dura dives into the gap between the two hemispheres of the cerebrum with a clever little move called the falx cerebri ("4" in the above picture). In the human brain, the separation goes quite deep, but even the millimetric depth of falx cerebri in the sheep brain made it extremely difficult to cut (it was hard to get the scissors under it without poking into the brain tissue).
All in all, it was a pretty cool lab, except for the pungent odor of formaldehyde. We didn't realize just how thoroughly we had to wash our brains to get rid of it before we began, and fumes from the remaining formaldehyde stung our eyes whenever we leaned in for an extended period of time. That of course meant three out of every four minutes, because our tasks involved things like identifying tiny little cranial nerves and cutting off the dura mater while sparing as many of those tiny little cranial nerves as possible.
Don't worry though, my dearies. That was only because we didn't prepare well enough. Next time, the brainwashing will be complete! Muahahaha!
The term dura mater literally means "tough mother", and it really is a tough mother of a membrane. The pia mater, the innermost of the three layers, is soft and sticks to the brain. The arachnoid mater is a spider-webby network of membrane in between the two, through which cerebrospinal fluid (CSF) flows. But the dura (from what I could tell through my gloves) feels a bit like tightly woven cloth, and is not very stretchy.
The dura dives into the gap between the two hemispheres of the cerebrum with a clever little move called the falx cerebri ("4" in the above picture). In the human brain, the separation goes quite deep, but even the millimetric depth of falx cerebri in the sheep brain made it extremely difficult to cut (it was hard to get the scissors under it without poking into the brain tissue).
All in all, it was a pretty cool lab, except for the pungent odor of formaldehyde. We didn't realize just how thoroughly we had to wash our brains to get rid of it before we began, and fumes from the remaining formaldehyde stung our eyes whenever we leaned in for an extended period of time. That of course meant three out of every four minutes, because our tasks involved things like identifying tiny little cranial nerves and cutting off the dura mater while sparing as many of those tiny little cranial nerves as possible.
Don't worry though, my dearies. That was only because we didn't prepare well enough. Next time, the brainwashing will be complete! Muahahaha!
Phone Trouble
I have a bumblebee-colored Sony Ericsson w760a. It's great. But I think that ever since my India trip, it's been angry at me. Since my phone is locked, I couldn't just grab a new SIM there and drop it in my phone. I did get a SIM card, but I borrowed my uncle's new phone (since he didn't really want to switch from his old, simple-to-use phone).
This new phone was a Nokia. It had lots of games and held a charge for more than 1.5 days, and I was playing with it all the time. Diamond Rush, City Bloxx, and that game with the cute little bouncing red ball were all very addictive ways to pass the time.
Well, I think my w760 felt betrayed. No matter how much I explained that the situation was not what it seemed, and that it was purely a work relationship, it still thought I was cheating on it. After we came back, it acted normal for almost a week. And then it started throwing tantrums. The center button (you know, the one that you need to press to select basically any option) has conditionally stopped working.
What do I mean conditionally? Well it still works - but only when the slider is closed. It refuses to work when the slider is open. And now, its intransigence (see, I'm actually remembering some of those GRE words!) has spread to the "C" button as well.
At any rate, we're going to thetherapist, I mean, the AT&T store, today to see if we can't work this out with a little help.
This new phone was a Nokia. It had lots of games and held a charge for more than 1.5 days, and I was playing with it all the time. Diamond Rush, City Bloxx, and that game with the cute little bouncing red ball were all very addictive ways to pass the time.
Well, I think my w760 felt betrayed. No matter how much I explained that the situation was not what it seemed, and that it was purely a work relationship, it still thought I was cheating on it. After we came back, it acted normal for almost a week. And then it started throwing tantrums. The center button (you know, the one that you need to press to select basically any option) has conditionally stopped working.
At any rate, we're going to the
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