Hello!

                In July 2010, I defended my thesis to a room of approximately 30 people.  I had spent the past six years pursuing my doctorate in biological chemistry at an Ivy League school and my research, which I so proudly presented, dealt with proteins on the molecular level.  

The audience was varied, but consisted of the predictable people: my awesome advisor, who knew and had guided my research for the past five years; my thesis committee, who met with me once a year to discuss my progress; and the twenty or so labmates and friends who came out of obligation (probably) or excitement (probably not).  For any that came out of excitement, I thank you heartily.  All the aforementioned people would, if not completely understand my research, know the basics.  I also would wager that if they sipped a bit more coffee or let their brain wander a few minutes less, they could easily have understood my work.  It was the final four audience members (my family) that I know politely listened to my title, understood not one bit of how those ten words fit together (or what some of them even meant) and quietly slipped away from listening for the entire hour.  I believe I caught my sister playing animatedly with her cell phone around the thirty minute mark.  Afterwards, these same four people snapped happy, champagne-streaked photographs and declared:

                “I had no idea what you were talking about, but you definitely sounded smart!”

                This left me feeling a little deflated.   

After I graduated with my Ph.D., left my thesis lab (in tears) and began my post-doc, I felt like I knew how to do just about nothing.  (I’m learning that the end of grad school/beginning of post doc-ing is a dark time).  People ask my fiancé (lawyer) all the time about law matters or my brother in law (chef!) about cooking, but, oddly, no one asks me about the intricacies of pouring an agarose gel.  (C’mon, people!  I pour excellent agarose gels!!)  I felt like if there was some major catastrophe, then my brother in law could feed us all, my fiancé could help build a new government or mediate disputes and I could … correctly describe the proper set of procedures to perform mutagenesis?  How freaking useful of me.

 One night, I was out with many people who would never wear jeans and last night’s pajama t-shirt to work (clearly, this encompasses nearly everyone else in the world) and I was asked about what I do.  I usually try to deflect these questions (because I don’t like the glazed-over looks – it makes me think I’m talking to waxed figures) but this person was persistent.  Suddenly, the whole table was staring at me with a bit of wonder (but mostly confusion, if I’m being honest).  I was surprised.  People really did want to understand what I worked on.  

“Okay,” I said.  “Hand me a napkin.”

I proceeded to draw some shapes and arrows and explained my drug discovery research.  I actually got excited because they were nodding and asking me questions.  One of my friends even asked why I chose to pursue one compound over another and the benefits of using oral drugs over vaccines.  In this format, almost everyone at the table was engaged and understood.

                Then I realized that I do have a talent.  It’s minor and not catastrophe worthy, but could be useful to many people.  I can read scientific literature and spit it back out with clarity to those who didn’t choose science as a profession (I sometimes think those people are brilliant) or don’t have the time to read articles.  (And they take time - holy dense reading.)  I can explain it to both scientists (a highly technical, jargon-filled way – I did pass my defense, after all) and non-scientists.  

                I think I’ve also been heavily influenced by the podcast “Stuff you missed in history class” by Howstuffworks.com.   Their podcasts are short, clear blurbs about different historical topics.  They give adequate background to set up why the historical event was remembered, then discuss everything they know about the topic.  I love it!  Would people like that for different scientific topics?  I’d be interested to read about how aspirin works, who Dmitri Mendeleev was, or how the Spanish influenza virus adapted from birds to humans.  Science is full of such good stories but when they are presented in a dry, dense paper, what non-scientist wants to read it?  Hell, I don’t even want to read it.  But, when broken down in the right way and explained with the proper references, it’s actually really cool!  (I swear!!)  And I’m not talking about writing the watered down version of science that is usually presented in TV segments; I mean real scientific advances or topics explained thoroughly, accurately, and in a way that non-scientists can relate. 

My interests lie in chemistry, biological chemistry and disease.  This means that I like understanding things at an atomic level.  I’m not so interested in “your liver is failing” so much as I want to understand what liver proteins are not functioning properly and why.  How does that dysfunction lead to patient symptoms?  I want to understand deeper than the organ and deeper than the cell – tell me about the workers inside the cell.    I also really enjoy basic chemistry (I should - I tutored it for five years.)  How can you tell a hydrogen atom from a boron atom by just shining light on it? What does table salt and water have to do with hydrochloric acid and sodium hydroxide? Who in the world is Amedeo, anyway?

   I’m going to start with some topics on the Spanish Influenza (biological chemistry) and absolute zero (chemistry) – both are timely given that it’s January (oops February!).  As I go along, I’ll pull from the major scientific journals (something I should be reading anyway given my career) and I’ll mix in some historical and little known details about some scientists.  I also have spent entirely too much time working in or near cancer institutes, so I’ll cover different cancer topics, as well.  I have a lot of ideas.

I’ve spent the past eight years giving presentations about varied scientific topics and tutoring/teaching introductory chemistry.  It’s all interesting when explained properly and in a way that invites non-scientists to discuss and question.  I hope you’ll stick around.

Oh, P.S. – I do plan to keep my posts short and add colorful pictures.  No one likes a scientist who wants to hear herself drone on and on.  …and on.