So why did I need buffering for a week like this week? I'd scheduled alot of shit so that some stuff in the lab would get resolved.

The pinnacle of this week was preparing for an hour long lecture I had to do for Dr. Zivago's graduate course. Yikes was the study and preparation a bitch. I'd read about 10 brain imaging studies looking at depression in a part of the frontal lobe called the prefrontal cortex, seeing how the disease affected selective attention, verbal fluency and other 'thinking' skills. I eventually found a way to tie in all of that stuff to what Dr. Ziv is studying, which is basically how the immune system and this incredibly powerful 'lock-down' brain chemical interact to cause depression (rather than serotonin depletion, which is what alot of current anti-depressants control for).

Being clever and rehearsing my lecture only partly helped, though. At first I was mealy mouthed and nervous, then I just forced myself to forget while L gave her own presentation. When I got up to speak, though, I suddenly stumbled into this huge well of bad-ass confidence. I was actually being eloquent where I'd been a babbling idiot while practicing just 15 minutes earlier!

In the first five minutes, though, Dr. Zivago was asking me alot of heated questions: does a psychological test that grades for 'thinking' really test thinking? So what if more blood flows into a region of the brain when this thinking test happens? etc. etc. On top of that, I think we had a misunderstanding on something I'd presented. I didn't buckle in, though. On the contrary, I was extremely firm and direct in answering all his questions, even to a point where he seemed satisfied. Over the next hour and a half I kept fielding questions I had and hadn't expected. L tried pitching in a few times to help. In the end I think I did really well. I was jazzed for the rest of the day on that silent victory.

So now that I've bored you to tears, more science whatnot!

*That same wednesday, our six young rats in the holding room were finally ready for dead ebola injections. Since you may wonder why we're doing this, I'll explain. Dr. Zivago did an experiment awhile ago and needed more rats for added statistical power. The gist of the study is this: rats who are made sick, given a drug 7 days later that depletes some critical neurochemicals, and then are put into a tub of water 48 hours later seem to become severely depressed. They float in the water, not moving at all; they'd drown if we didn't put life vests on them. By contrast, rats who've never been sick and get that depleting drug swim for a normal amount of time. Why the big deal? Without getting into details, this study shows that you need to get sick in order for your immune system to properly work. Now, when almost every major university in America uses disease-free rats, how can you do immune system work? Answer: you can't; disease-free rats are shit-tastic models for experiments.

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Onto thursday. I know, I know, but it's like brocolli: you chew on it then spit it out when noone's looking.

*Since L is still troubleshooting a program for her Master's degree research, I've been taking care of all the day-to-day stuff. Mainly this involves talking with undergrads. about their interests, helping them out and getting them to help me out around the lab. All of them seem to more or less like me, which makes life easier.

One of the undergrads whom I give photography advice to helped me out with a practice surgery on thursday. Read here for a recap on why I'm doing this and my not so fine skillz.

Anyway, at first we couldn't find the anaesthetic to knock the rat out. I somehow found L and learned Dr. Ziv had stashed it for the surgery inspection the DEA did last week.

Solution: knock rat out with this odious gas stuff called halothane.

Result: the rat did not go down...not once.

I found a spare syringe with some anaesthetic, though, and he then went out right quick. Our next problem was finding a pair of hair clippers we could use to shave his head. The ones Dr. Zivago showed me weren't fine enough for rat hair. The smaller set didn't seem to work either (and I only later learned that the power switch was on the side and had to be pushed up).

Solution: I ran across the floor to the other side and asked an acquaintance for his set of clippers. He agreed.

Result: The rat's head was shaved and we could rock and roll.

Next was the pain in the ass part: putting the rat in ear bars. I'd tried this once before. So far my score was Me 0, Death 1.

Solution: Trial and error poking and prodding.

Result: The undergrad tried helping me out with the ear bars and got lucky a few times, but fitting both of the rats ears didn't happen for 30 minutes. Eventually, though, I got found the right spots, locked his head in place and voila: restrained, unconscious, but still alive rat.

For the final twist, though, we found out that the scalpel blade was dull. Really dull.

Solution: say "fuck this shit", put the animal in the recovery area and call it a day.

Result: we called it a day.

Since I'd come in from tuesday to thursday, though, I thought I'd earned today (friday) off from my volunteer job. I'd meant to go out and take more photographs, but suddenly updating became top priority.

**[section deleted for personal and ethical reasons]**

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And finally, more photographs:

'Communities'

'Vine Waterfalls'

And my personal favorite - The Blue Lantern

The only thing left for me to wonder is if I'll make it out to Redondo Beach this weekend. You need to see that emerald water.

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