In pursuit of a PhD and figuring things along the way
A couple months ago, while measuring some samples with an oscilloscope, I witnessed a never-seen-before phenomenon.
As is completely obvious, the results were undoubtedly a part of some bigger picture.
Is this a signal from the universe? Some kind of a message?
Is that you, Batman?
Lately, I’ve been interfacing with the glove box a lot, which is next to inevitable in my field of study.
If you have never seen or heard of a glove box before, I have got an exclusive, self-explanatory diagram of it to show. But like all things science, this story is not as simple as that.
If your glove box is big, in a looming sort of way, it can be quite intimidating at first. And it can seem so… fancy to be working in a glove box then. Like you had to qualify for it. Well, with more experience, you find out that the basic qualifications you need are: 1) having a piece of work that you need to do in a glove box; and 2) appropriate height (as in, tallness of a scientist) relative to the glove box (but let’s be real here, the second criterion doesn’t really exist – stand on a chair if you must).
Plus, having to wear thick big gloves of the “glove” box, it becomes plain clumsy to work in it. And my excuse of “I-am-still-new-to-working-in-the-glove-box” expired a long time ago (which I actually whined about for quite some time compared to normal, not-so-fussy people).
So now I have had to accept that I AM fully responsible for whatever clumsiness I commit – which makes me not-such-a-big-fan of the bumbling person who works in the glove box and cannot even pick up a bottle without first dropping it a couple of times.
The “person” who works in the glove box? Pfft! That’s not me! She is Qudsia Forcephands (secret note: that’s the name for my alter ego for when I have to work in the glove box). She had to be really pushed to start working in there and she kept complaining about how she was still new to working in the glove box even when it was her sixth time! (it’s UNBELIEVABLE what some people will say so they will not have to work, it’s really sad).
But I think, with time (and with MUCH encouragement and suggestions from me), Forcephands is learning the tricks of the trade and she has become waaay better at navigating inside the glove box now. And, as the name might give you an idea, she is now quite adept at using forceps almost as if they were extensions of her hands (or gloves of the glove box).
Forcephands is still somewhat lazy and I often have to give her pep-talks, and even now, she keeps dropping everything in the glove box (are all those forceps inside the glove box there for nothing? Tut tut). But what can you do, some people will just remain at their level no matter how much you try. She has, though, become quite independent at working in the glove box now and, I have to admit, I am somewhat proud of her.
(But I still don’t completely trust her).
So it happened some days ago, during an unusually in-depth cleaning session of the lab, that we came across super-strong magnets. Such a great discovery should not be in vain. So since then, we have been trying to come up with some uses for these.
I mean, they can be very useful to pull magnetic stirrers out of a solution if you don’t want to throw away the solution or contaminate it by putting something else in it. But THEN, the magnets might be so strong that if you would use a pair of “metal” forceps to grab the magnetic stirrer sitting on the lip of the bottle, the super-strong magnets might deflect the FORCEPS themselves and you may not be able to grab the magnet AT ALL (yes, I tried – in a casual evasion-of-common-sense moment).
But of course, that could not be the only possible use. What if, instead of pulling the stirrers out of solutions, you wanted to keep the stirrers INSIDE? Like when you are washing magnetic stirrers in a bottle and you come to the part when you have to drain the liquid (soap solution, ethanol, etc.). There’s always a risk of dropping the stirrer with it, which means you have to wash it all over again (depending on where you actually drop it).
So then, if you would use a super-strong magnet (or maybe even just a magnet), you can keep the magnet inside while completely inverting your bottle to drain the solvent. Can be pretty useful sometimes. And now you have a use for super-strong magnets lying around (or rather, sticking around) in your lab.
And as I am now discovering, they are also quite good for designing little games. Like taking smaller magnets and dropping them close enough to the bigger magnets and see how they deflect the dropping magnets. If you control the distance precisely, you can make them hit a particular point on a metal pole.
And there, now you have a game of magnet darts (and another use for super-strong magnets lying around in your lab).
So this particular week in solar cells (some weeks ago), I finally managed to make my own batch of solar cells – after which I started to consider myself qualified enough – in the capacity of an independent solar cell researcher ^_^
Like many other things in a doctoral degree, the completion of this comic was also delayed indefinitely. So this is more like “that week in science” now.
Week 45 of my PhD, like many other weeks of my degree, was characterized by the absence of accomplishments due to unforeseen circumstances. 
Sometimes, things go wrong in your life that, no matter how much you try, you just cannot hide them.
Especially if you work with smelly chemicals in your lab.
You spill one of those and your biggest wish would be to bury the evidence of your clumsiness. It’s all well. You clean up, no big damages. No one saw you. It should be fine. Only if it was this simple.
The smell of the chemical will not let it be so. It haunts you and follows you around everywhere you go.
And people start asking questions. Questions that should not have been raised in the first place, that are best left unanswered.
And then, you have to admit that yes, it is you. This is something that you have done. And it is definitely you who smells like that chemical.
But in this adversity lies a masked opportunity. An opportunity to develop your own line of perfumes that smell like chemicals in your lab. Then you can wear them all the time and get the people in your lab accustomed to those smells.
So that next time, they won’t even know (plus you generate revenue. Win-win.)
Some days ago, I found out about the square tomato.
In short, the “cultivar VF-145” was developed at UC Davis to get to a more sturdy kind of tomato that wouldn’t squish so easily and wouldn’t roll of conveyor belts. It is not really square, but just “less round” than a more round tomato.
Anyway, many different ways to look at, and solve, a single problem (and all the subsequent problems that arise because of that). Less manpower – Get in a machine to do it. The tomatoes roll off and get crushed by machines – Change the tomatoes.
Or perhaps it depends on the person you bring the problem to. Changing the tomato would probably be the first thing that comes to the mind of a plant breeder – but not necessarily to the mind of a solar cell researcher (not that solar cell researchers are the best people to solve tomato problems… It’s probably a good idea to leave them to tomato experts). But it does make one wonder: would the solution be still the same had someone else been on this task? Someone with a slightly different background and technical expertise?
I have had times in research when I was stumped by a mundane, and most of the times non-scientific, problem (which is, of course, mundane only in retrospect – no problem is too stupid, too mundane, or too small when it is in the phase of being a problem). I only had to move around, sometimes up and down some stairs, throwing the question at people I knew – and one of them would reply with an obvious solution that would leave you in a speechless why-didn’t-I-think-of-this state.
Times like these are when you find out who your real friends are – They are the ones who will not hesitate to break you out of your tunnel vision and bring you play-doh to seal your glassware airtight when you need it.
However, my biggest concern is completely unrelated to this now: Have I been eating square tomatoes all my life, thinking they were round when there were probably rounder tomatoes out there? Have I even seen a truly round tomato ever?
Recently, my days in science have been quite eventful, and so I was inspired to render those into a short comic.
Pretty self-explanatory. Depicts my loss-of-words quite aptly.
I would like to, first, apologize for the misleading title.
Wikipedia defines “machine learning” as:
Machine learning is a field of computer science that uses statistical techniques to give computer systems the ability to learn (e.g., progressively improve performance on a specific task) with data, without being explicitly programmed.
But that is not what this post is about.
You see, as a junior scientist about to embark on your career path, one thing you should do is learn to use different machines. Some machines will make something for you, whereas others will tell you that those machines are probably not working, and despite all your efforts, it will be some time before you start getting good samples or results out of any thing in your lab.
So if you work in a lab, you’ll now have a very good idea of who rules there: It’s them. Now and forward, in your time as a researcher, you’ll go into many labs, meet a lot of people, and learn a lot of new stuff… but nothing and no one will judge you like those silent machines sitting smugly atop work benches of your lab.
Many a times, I have started working with one, thinking, oh this is going to be one of the easier ones. Never has that attitude worked for me. It’s like you cannot trust any single one of them; even the ones that you think you know, won’t think twice when it is as tempting as shattering your trust in them.
They don’t care if you are enthusiastic about research and have chosen this field as your career with such joy. They will happily make you think that you have nice typical graphs* in your presentation that you are about to show in your group meeting. They want you to suffer, to taste embarrassment, like they want to see how long you are going to last in this field that you have been so passionate about …
… Until you have proven yourself worthy of research.
As a result, one of the few things I have always found myself doing in the beginning is to start gaining favor of the machines that are in my lab. To build good rapport with them. And it is not easy, not with every machine. Even after you feel you two are going along well, they will still test you, or just throw you under the bus when they feel like it**.
If it all sounds depressing to you, let me tell you there is hope. Somehow, after you have stood beside them long hours and worked with them at odd times***, they will start to slowly accept you and let you enter the ranks of researchers. It’s blood, sweat and tears to gain that kind of trust, but you can gain the status of meh-you’ll-do in the eyes of the machines.
But don’t ever expect them to start liking you, because that’s ridiculous, they probably don’t have a heart.
* Well, okay, they may have been looking a little weird to you as well, but early on, you wouldn’t know that, thinking this is probably how they are supposed to be.
** Which tends to happen most on Fridays, followed next in probability by Mondays.
*** Condition of high-levels-of-consistency needs to be met with these requirements of long-hours and odd-times.
A while back, I came across this post about how science can make you feel stupid.
I shared it, thinking I understood perfectly what it meant and felt like. I actually didn’t then, because now I know what it means and feels like. (And yet, I am not exactly sure how it feels like. Stupid can take so many forms).
When I started off my PhD, I was like any normal person, motivated about starting a new “project” that they are excited about. It’s just like new year, and we all know how that goes:
1) You start off with a long list of resolutions;
2) You start following through on almost all of them immediately;
3) You feel so good that you are following through, and how this year did not turn out like last year (and we all know how that went);
4) You start realizing how by starting everything, you broke all rules of developing new habits, and how this is not sustainable at all (did you really even want all of this?);
5) You start going back to your normal routine, and your resolutions start feeling less important to you now;
6) New year, and you have almost forgotten (almost) how last year went and are ready for a new cycle of highly-motivated-to-back-to-“normal”.
But of course, everybody knows these stages, everyone has new-year moments. And when I started my PhD, I knew I’d face some kind of a slump some of the times. People-on-the-internet told me that the PhD dip is inevitable, and it is not a question of if you will come across it but when you will actually experience it (although they also told me that this phase comes sometime around the second year and I am still in my first, so am I just going through a trailer for the actual movie that will be officially opening in months to come?).
The thing is, despite knowing this, I didn’t really plan for this time (that is another kind of stupid right there). Because, like any normal person motivated about starting a new “project” that they are excited about, I wanted to be laser-focused on my PhD and on things that would take it forward.
So if I needed a break from lab work, I could read or catch up on literature, and if I needed a break from reading, I could take some online course. I did like doing other stuff, but all of that could wait until I had my PhD a little more on routine (a thing, that I am finding out only now, was not as easy as I supposed it was, but that could be for another time).
And this is the importance of comparatively-dumber-sounding other stuff.
Because when you are doing something as crazy as a PhD, where you can go months running around in circles finding your way back to square-one’s, feeling-stupid does become inevitable. And when you see it’s been a while since you last made progress, or learnt something new, or developed a new skill, or added something to you, yourself, as a person, that can be eexxttrreemmeellyy demotivating.
But other stuff can help you here.
Because if you have a little something going on the side, like learning a new skill that may not be completely related to your PhD, it is some progress that you can, at least, show to yourself: So, yes, I still haven’t been able to decide if zinc chloride is better or if I should go for zinc acetate for my solutions, but I have completed six-hundred-and-eighty-five blog posts! That should be a milestone!
So that’s why I have started to think about starting other stuff this new semester. Like taking a language course (I have always wanted to learn another language and now might be a perfect opportunity), or starting to draw (I have some half-developed scripts for a comic on how my PhD stuff is going), or taking up other random workshops and activities where I can just change my environment and see what else is up in the world.
And there is another reason why the other stuff can be so complementary to your PhD: so now when you are moving about progress-less, you can blame it on the other stuff, and how, because of other stuff, you probably have not been able to focus on your PhD.
But the other stuff was your stupid idea, wasn’t it?
