The truth, my friends, is that I've been wandering through the valley of the shadow of basic science research. Unfortunately, I discovered that, indeed, my research to date was all just a shadow... an illusion. I got the answer to the basic question that I had been pursuing for two years. The null prevailed.
Fortunately, I work for a prominent scientist who has good collaborations and multiple irons in the fire. Sadly, due to the nature of science, a great deal of time is required to finish a project, meaning that because I am starting a new project, my graduate training will be rather prolonged... five years is starting to look like a very optimistic completion date, stretching my total time in the MD/PhD program to nine years. If things take longer than expected, as is almost always the case in the scientific realm, it might be possible for me to spend a decade in formal graduate level training. Damn.
Thankfully, life goes on. Outside of lab, your unmotivated and unfaithful blogger has continued to enjoy the fruits of his significant other's labor, which are enough to keep the bills paid and good beer in the kegerator...
...But enough of this wildly optimistic delusional crap where I try to frame my life in order to feel better about it--lets talk about the problems here--let's embrace the reality in which I find myself. We know that whenever something fails there are lessons to be learned and reasons that need to be identified so that the same mistakes are not repeated in the future.
1) As a graduate student, you should not go developing new systems within your lab. It takes a long time to bring a complicated new technique to a laboratory. I did this successfully--I brought a complicated stem cell differentiation to our lab, which I used in my experiments, however, when I used them as a model, it turns out, our hypothesis was wrong. Thus, I spent a long time working on developing a model, to answer a question, which turned out to be unimportant. Two years gone. Boom! Consider for instance, if I had worked with a different person in the lab who was heading into a very productive period of their work--I would already have two middle author publications and most likely have key data for my own first author work. However, I was assigned/unlucky/unwise and worked with someone who was not productive, and so I worked hard for two years, but have nothing, except the experience of bringing a complex technique from another lab to ours--unfortunately, techniques do not a good scientist make.
2) So why did I end up in that position? This, I believe, is the critical question. This is also something thing that is absolutely essential for new PhD students to understand, which unfortunately, I was never told. My training fell at a period of time where there was no mentorship whatsoever though the early research years including choosing a lab, etc. All that I had to lean on was the information from other graduate students, which I took, in my arrogance and enthusiasm, with too many grains of salt. Here is the gem of the blog, the mistake I made, that was preventable. Young students, please, take some time, go to a mountaintop, do some soul searching, go into a lab and do some experiments, whatever you need, but please...
Define your research interests.I did not do this and it cost me dearly. I ended up going along with the flow, hoping (as I usually do) to get lucky, or that good things would just come my way. They did not.
More broadly though, I think this principle is crucial to all people, not just PhD students. You could change 'define your research interests' to read 'know what you want' for wider applicability.
I firmly believe that all people are selfish to the core. Selfless, altruistic people gain pleasure and are satisfied by helping others. The selfish people gain pleasure by getting what they want. Based on my observation and experience, we are all hedonistic. We do what makes us feel good, something determined by our neurobiology, which is the result of evolutionary selective pressures. Argue with me if you like, but I have yet to hear something to convince me otherwise. This is important.
It is important because this helps us understand why defining your interests/knowing what you want is so crucial. In the classic slit lamp quantum experiment, a photon is passed through a small slit--it has equal probability of landing anywhere on the screen, yet we only know where it will be once we observe it. This, in my opinion, is a great analogy to life. Had I known where I wanted to be and what my research and career interests were, I would have been much clearer in choosing a project, much more savvy in determining who to work with, and been able to observe the photon where I wanted to be. Unfortunately, I did not know this.
Now it could be argued that without these experiences, I would not ever be able to know this. It is an undeniable possibility. But if you can define your interests, set up a goal, and shoot for it, I think you will find your way much better than I did. Oh yeah, find a great mentor too--someone who cares about you. Good luck.
So to focus back on the original question you were asking me, "Where did you go?", I basically have been finishing up a few projects, trying to plan my new project, and taking strong steps to ensure that my next project is successful and to define my research interests further.
Interestingly, this has taken me back to my original question, which I formulated in high school. Why do people behave the way they do? To know that, I wanted to pursue a career where I reached out and helped and understood people at their most vulnerable points--to me, I can't imagine a more vulnerable time than asking someone to open up your head, stick a scalpel in, and make your life improve! In addition to meeting people at that clinical point and psychological point, I also wanted to understand the 'why' part of the question, which led me to neuroscience. My new project will allow me to explore the biology of how the brain changes in response to activity, which to me, is the crux of why we do what we do. Realistically, I hope to learn a bit about why a mouse does what a mouse does, but I think that is where science and technology are. I hope this new project on which I am embarking will allow me to begin to answer this fundamental question I had as a youngster, while at the same time honing my scientific mind.
I have spent the last several weeks coming to this place, refocusing my efforts, and strengthening my life on the homefront. I hope that by returning to my interests, my motivation will reignite, and I will be able to complete this difficult phase of training. The most salient insight is that in order to attain satisfaction, you must know what you want [both in life and in your research].
As I wrap this up, I'm reminded of an editorial I wrote in Phi Psi entitled, 'What is a physician-scientist?' At that point, early in my educational career, I scoffed at my colleague's statement that you need to know what you want, and then go get it. His words were clearly true and wise. Unfortunately, I took them with too many grains of salt, scoffed at them as unattainable, and wrote the article. I wish I had taken them to heart and spent some time actually contemplating that and working to define what I want. We live and learn.
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