Most of all would be the end of this longitudinal project. This thing has dragged on for an age and a day, or roughly 13 months. Granted I myself have only done active testing 7 months of that period, but I periodically had to analyze this or that test to see if we had anything. And while the results are encouraging--even if the physiology doesn't quite match the behavior for group differences--I grow weary of it. But thankfully, the times where I have to wake up at 6:30am are drawing to a close. Better still, because of all the stuff happening at the lab, one of the senior scientists has taken to scheduling some of the testing for me. I have no complaints on this count.

The best part has been getting out of the lab to, er, work at another lab. The premise concerns my next project. My advisor and Dr. J are collaborating on a huge, huge study looking at why 30% caloric restriction in older animals leads to a massive increase in lifespan. Dr. J is a neuroimaging expert, while my advisor is working "under" him as the behavior collection guy. Considering I want to look at the interactions between brain, behavior and physiology, this is yet another good project to be a part of. While the collaboration between Dr. J and my prof haven't solidified yet, part of the purpose is to get me training in using neuroimaging software packages and to analyze that kind of data.

So, in essence, I've started integrating myself over at Dr. J's lab. His space is at the VA, over at the medical school/hospital complex on the west side of campus. Thankfully the VA isn't as labyrinth-like as the building right next to it. The work location is wonderfully non-descript: a bank of computers, captained by grad students and a few post-docs in a sea of cubicles. Some of the machines are Windows, but most run Linux. It heavily gives me the vibe of the computer science room back at Oberlin. I have many fond memories I had of playing Starcraft or Warcraft 3 (then an illegal beta copy) with the comp sci people.

While I've just started at the beginning of this week, I'm getting a decent feel for things. For one, while I've taken a class on neuroimaging with Dr. J, it didn't go into the methods so much. To fill in the gaps, I've been getting to know the other grad students there. Donald I already know from the molecular and cellular neuro course last semester; he's Keith's friend and a decent fellow in his own right. The guy who's been helping to introduce me has been Erik. I hadn't thought much of Erik when I had class with him last semester. He seemed quiet, thoughtful, and wanted to do a good job with his presentation (which makes sense since the prof is his advisor). When we met on tuesday to get started on training, though, I started to really like the guy. We BSed for about 30 minutes before getting down to business. He's a first year so it's as if he and I are about in the same place learning-wise, though he knows more than I do.

So far I've been digitally stripping skulls from monkey brains.

Ok.

That sounds morbid. Lemme explain.

An MRI basically constructs an image of your brain, millimeter slice by millimeter slice, using magnetic pulses that can tell what kind of tissue is where in space. Neurons, white matter, cerebrospinal fluid, it inputs that info into the computer and constructs an image based on the different values. It's not a "photograph," but it's a good approximation. Now the not so sexy part of studying a brain is the fact that, millimeter slice by millimeter slice, is the rest of the head. Eyeballs, fascia, fat, bone. Shit we do not need. Shit I call head gunk. And old monkeys have a hell of a lot of head gunk.

And so, one millimeter slice at a time, you need to outline what you think is brain. And eventually, basically, you crop out the brain and go on to do analyses with it.

The key here is "what you think is brain." I've taken a neuroanatomy course in undergrad, taking a sorta kinda neuroanatomy course right now, so you'd think this'd be kinda easy. Hell, you see images like this all the time:

Peaceful. Tranquil. So goddamn obvious what brain is you get lulled into a false sense of security. A retarded drunk monkey could extract brain from skull for that section. But the fun part--and I do genuinely mean the fun part--is about 10mm up from where the eyeballs start. That is a shitstorm of fat and bone, my friends. You haven't pondered over anatomy/'lived' until you're staring at a low resolution pixellated mass of greyish streaks, 1-2 pixel width black lines, and vaguely whitish things, clicking back and forth between 10mm worth of slices trying to see if something is brain or just head gunk. Plus there's stuff that looks like brain but is just hanging in space, or stuff that's hanging in space that is just the extreme end of some end of the brain.

This example doesn't do justice to the really hard sections, but you can get a feel:

It takes a long time, and switching between the x, y, and z axes to figure stuff out, but I'm almost done with my first brain.

The bottom line is that I love working on this stuff so far. It's everything I could have hoped for: time away from my home lab, working with brains, time away from my home lab, and time away from my home lab. A body just gets sick to death of people periodically coming by and being disturbing. I've been seriously considering a 'please knock' sign, given that people interpret an open office door as being the equivalent of 'just start talking and assume I'll hear or pay attention to you.' That and I actively hate a few of the people I work with at the home lab, whereas the new lab is laid back. Really laid back.

So that's good.

There's also the spring photo show. Had a meeting for that this past sunday. I was the only guy and, frankly, I didn't feel like my ideas were considered all that much. We were trying to figure out how to combine themes of life and death but without being morbid and yet focussing on textures and details. Mr. Diffuse, line 1, Mr. Diffuse. I also tried offering some of my pieces as illustrations of what kind of common theme we were trying to establish. Danielle felt I was getting into specifics. I'd been under the impression that a meeting about what to include in a show should have specifics about what'll be in that show. Silly me I must have missed the art memo. We spent 2 hours basically talking about: 1) the 2 available spaces, 1 of which will obviously not work; 2) the potential theme, which had changed from when I had a conversation about it last; 3) attempting to think of unifying themes without really sharing our work. We'd have additional meetings after we'd picked pieces to submit to the show. I'm new to this so I'll play it that way. Danielle seems to have largely set the theme, but I can work with it. I've got about 10 pieces which actually work, and some which don't but are pretty and I can BS about them being related to life and detail or some shit.

Graduate students are like professional magicians, capable of pulling miracles out of their ass at the most inopportune of times under time stress. This will be no problem.

On the good side, this gives me an excuse to finally buy big versions of my stuff. On the potentially not good side, I don't know how my stuff looks in big format. I'm going to order 'Welcome Home' (i.e. scary haunted burnt out building I miss) and 'Neo-Habitat' and see how they turn out. I figure if they suck, I can get slightly smaller versions. If they don't suck, put some lipstick and fishnets on it and pimp the bitch.

The camera fund also goes decently. I'm about 3/4's of the way there. I'm waiting on some grant stuff to come in. If it doesn't, I'll need the money to live through the summer. If it does come through, I'll be almost able to buy the chassis and some lenses. I believe at that point the earth will split open and I will rock out hard with bursting streams of neon magma spraying in the background.

The 3rd date with Emily is tomorrow. So far this has been a pretty good thing. I'm not into sports so much, but we seem compatible in several ways and I like her a lot. (And her being beautiful certainly doesn't hurt). I'd made a plan A and B for tomorrow. One involved cross country skiing. Considering it rained today and it's been above water freezing temperatures for several days, we've nixed that one.

The current plan includes:

*Cheesy but still sweet Rom-Com(edy), which we've decided to see because, hey, it's a date movie, wtf.

*Ice skating. I haven't done this since the Cyberia 'net meets of the mid-90's. Oh those things were fun, and my life entirely changed during one on December of '95 or '96, so I'm keen on ice-skating. Not all that good, but neither is Emily.

*Dinner. Hey, it's a cliche for a reason. I decided that the Macaroni Grill would be a good idea. For one, love the iced tea. For two, love the bread. For three, entrees = so much cheese I feel Catholic by association for all the guilty pleasure I feel. And for four, I have a lot of fond memories inside of Mac grills--all of which I'd link you too, but it's 1:26 in the morning and I'm tired.

I mostly feel anxiety about all this. 5% excitement at the most. Granted, just a week ago at this very time Emily and I were very close and being all, ah, snuggly. Even so, I haven't seen her for a week and there's a bit of tension. It's good tension, I think. I mean it's a prerequisite that a woman will occasionally test the guy. She does so by offering a bewildering array of options, some of which sound good. I've been told recently that, apparently, changing plans once or at most twice in terms of where to go or when to do it is ok--but the guy makes the determination and final call. Like I've said, I can't begin to recall how often people want/make me (to) pick where to eat/go/etc. I've got the decision thing down. The trouble is I'm still trying to get a grasp on this whole gender-typical guy role thing. There's lots of little stuff I have to take into consideration. And so far I guess I'm doing a fair approximation. I don't know if at any point there'll be a downgrading to some kind of 'semi-comfortable' state where we're, say, an official couple or some relation that's beyond the initial 'checking the horse's teeth' stage.

I mean it's a fun inspection mostly, and we obviously like each other. I just don't want to fuck it up. At the least, though, I do see several things I do now that make a lot more sense compared to what I used to do. Again, even if she was sometimes a bitch about imparting the requisite wisdom, I do sincerely thank Hill for her help. One of these days I'll try re-mailing her again and saying as much.

Because dinner is supposed to go up to about 8, I'm wondering about the end of the date and the transition into going to the Inferno. So far, people I've talked with have looked at me funny. Brian pointed out, for instance, that at least half the point of going to a club is picking people up. I agree, I don't dispute it. However, a 6 hour or so long date is awhile. Granted both our dates last about that long or longer, but I'm not gonna presume anything happens after dinner other than I drop her off. And again, while Brian suggests just "porking" her (half-jokingly because he's "a sick minded bastard"), I'm not so keen. I was keen last week, but I thought about it and I want to wait with her too. I mean it could actually work out for longer than a few months, so while she hits the right spots, it'd be nice if love were involved.

I've retroactively decided I only had sex with women I loved. That's probably a fabrication, but she is special. For one she's my first dating partner without a moderate to severe mental disorder in years. This is progress, people.

And as moderately neurotic about it as I feel, it just kinda clicks when she smiles at me.

I know, it's like an after school special.

Yeah, so the subject line contains mostly in parentheses.

Lately I've been dwelling on death again. I'm actually fairly happy most days nowadays, but I keep thinking back to Detroit, to the streets and places that seemed off somehow. I occasionally have these dreams of sleeping in fire-ravaged abandoned buildings. Been having strange dreams recently, purposefully forgetting them. Engaging myself in sleep deprivation to head them off, in part.

I spent two hours tonight reading about the underworld and mythological death. Charon, the river Styx, Erebus, stuff like that. To me it's comforting in a slightly off-putting way. I've been touched by that side of things since I was a child. Didn't have any choice in the matter. And I can't deny it's a fundamental part of me, even if I'm not willing to explore it because I really don't need more of an excuse to be different from most people than I already am.

My Mom sent along some supplies to me to help clear out whatever keeps bothering Brian. Whatever it is hasn't been around recently. Sometimes these things happen. But there's some good stuff here that I should bring along with me the next time I visit Nicholas.

Mostly I've been successful at convincing myself that the reality I'm familiar and comfortable with is really all there is. Everything else is just peripheral. And I'm right about that right now. I can't help but get the feeling, though, that it's a waiting sort of peripheral. Obviously I don't know about what. It's probably best that I asked for protection and regularly maintain the wards around the house. With all the human stuff going on nowadays, I don't think adding something else into the mix would be wise. I certainly know that the thing that's been following me, ever since that night Daniel and I kinda stumbled on it, is around still. Most things like that just feed off of the attention, though. That's the dangerous part in thinking too much about it.

It's all a mash of superstitions I was raised with and my own intuitive sense. That sense says I've made myself suffer enough for awhile. I'm generally in agreement.

I have time to re-dedicate to better understanding some things, but it's not necessary. It never really has been in this lifetime. Quite different from the last two times I was here. I ate and drank this stuff for decades not even a good century ago. Yet somehow, in what I can only hope is my last time coming back to this place, I have the hidden knowledge but no need to use it. It's rather like having a .50 caliber rifle but every time you pass by a deer it just keels over. Sortof a funny curious more than anything.

I should be thankful I'm not like my mother or other ancestors who were compelled to do various things while they were very young. Mom was near killed when she was 7. The only thing that ever came close was when I was 4 or 5. I was sitting in a giant ampitheatre of red, naked, on a large red-cushioned seat far too large for me. I was quite casually speaking to an old man in some holy wardrobe I didn't recognize. Asking questions I knew the answers to but didn't understand. There was at least one other, but I can't remember. It was never anything sexual; that wasn't the intent at all. They were making sure of something, something that sounded very important. I wish I could remember more than just fleeting visual images, or how they got me in the first place and why. What is this memory? And why do I occasionally go back to it?

I know there are answers out there, but I think I had a choice about how involved I wanted to get. And I just don't. People mean more than hidden knowledge this time around. I tried denying it and the result wasn't good. Yet there's a certain involuntary perception of things. It's hard enough to have a sense of who you are but to then realize occasionally just what else is beyond that that is fundamentally you and yet oddly not entirely you. It's like I've locked away tiny pieces, small sections all around me, and occasionally one of those doors opens a little before shutting by itself, and I turn my head suddenly to see nothing.

I don't have much compared to the ancient incarnations, but I used to be far more shallow and much more selfish. Tyranically single-minded in the use of others just to get one more small clue or piece. One more scrap of knowledge. Some black, black things were done long ago. For some reason the entirety of us changed semi-recently. Oh those hellish nights as a child. I still remember those eyes, or whatever they were, watching me, doing nothing, just waiting for my fear to boil over into panic. I never did, thankfully.

People are goddamn foolish creatures. Living a mostly good life well has its own merit. There's no need to dwell in things that only bring confusion at best. There's no practical point to it anymore. And yet...

I'm making little sense and I've written far more than I wanted to about this subject.

And when I'd gone to bed, and laid there for about 10 minutes, I heard Brian rustle in the next room. I thought it'd be the usual mumbling. He doesn't sleep well and I think he may have night terrors.

But this time was different. He yelled a bit, then yelled some more. He yelled for me and I knew something was up. I called back out. He'd seen something in the stairwell. A guy who didn't look like he was alive. 30'sish, checkered shirt, a farmer. I'd thought it had old man energy, but perhaps I was mistaken. It was bad enough that rather than go straight back to bed, Brian stayed awake. I would. I felt bad at first. My dwelling on all this may have drawn the spirit out. Who knows, though.

I decided now was the right time to initiate change. So I unpacked the kit my Mom sent. No turtle shell with bones for clearing, but some different waters that would do the trick. I began an invocation and a request for assistance, since I haven't been to the other side in a long time and it's not safe for a novice. I annointed, I spoke, I chanted--and then I heard something. It was a moaning. Bass, deeper than Brian's voice. Three such calls. Not at all pleasant. I'm used to being not afraid or telling myself as much, because fear can literally cost you your life in some circumstances. But that is the first time I have ever had a definitive sensory experience of something like that. My family has no history of schizophrenia, and before this all I got were feelings, mental impressions and pictures. Yes, I was afraid, but I wouldn't let that get to me.

I'm not big on ritual, so I finished the one chant I remembered for circumstances like this. The feeling was as if my entire body were surging with energy. Even now it's this pervasive, crystal clear surge, as if I'm partly light slowly moving. I lit one of the candles provided, since that'll help me focus and provide some baseline of warding in case whatever I felt happen wasn't enough for the desired effect.

I talked about things with Brian afterward. He seems alright, and I've asked he especially be protected. I don't know why whatever it is/was bothered him in particular. There's always been something about this house, we agreed. And hopefully the softball approach worked. Hopefully that's the end of it. Hopefully I don't have to direct the journey myself. I know what that'll entail--but I'm fine with it if that's what I'm supposed to do.

I'm going to try to sleep now. Spirit or no spirit, beautiful women who like me trump the undead hands-down.

Well that answers that question, doesn't it?

previous - next