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There are always signs around campus soliciting people to become research subjects. They usually ask for very little of you (Play video games! Take a personality quiz! Donate blood!), and appropriately compensate you very little. I have always kept my eyes on them, and have had some friends here at Columbia subject themselves to the mercy of researchers. However, the studies are usually not something I want to participate in, or I don't qualify.
I am generally not interested in any study that pays over $100. Why? Because you have to be violated in the worst imaginable ways to earn >$100 in a research study. My roommate participated in a study that paid $400 once. It required taking skin biopsies from his ass on 4 or 5 consecutive days, the last day being a biopsy following some number of hours after he had taken some research drug. For those unaware of what a skin biopsy entails, let me tell you. They take something akin to a hole puncher and "punch out" a bit more than a half-centimeter (~1/4 inch for you non-scientist Americans) diameter piece of skin. When I say "skin" I mean all of the layers of skin, not just some surface cells. You require 2 or 3 stitches per biopsy. The result? He has a line of 5 little circular scars on his right butt cheek. Scar myself and take some unapproved drug for $400? No thanks.
The craziest study I heard about (which also paid the most) was one conducted before my time here at Columbia, but related to me by a friend of mine. It paid men about $8000. Only men. Why? Well, imagine what differentiates a man from a woman. No no, I'm not talking about logical thought, practicality, reason, or the ability to resist impulses. I mean physically, below the belt. Now imagine what these researchers are going to do to that soft, vulnerable, nerve-rich... organ... for 20 times what 5 skin biopsies pays. This means at least 20 times the pain. Imagine. Think of the worst thing possible, then imagine something worse. (For the record, my friend didn't know what they actually did, but she thought along the same lines as me. Ouch!)
Researchers don't pay that much without inflicting tremendous suffering. Consider that the most I have heard about being given to a woman as compensation for pain/damage to her reproductive system was about $2000, and that was for something that could render the woman unable to bear children! Think about it. I am pretty sure that most sperm banks don't pay donors, or pay a mere pittance of $25-50. Women, on the other hand, can easily command $8000, up to $25,000 if she is Ivy-League educated, for egg donation as that can cause fertility problems later in life. Given that disparity, what could the study which paid men $8000 involve?
The other reason I don't really follow any of these up is that I am not qualified. I am not overweight. I do not smoke. I do not have asthma. I am not bilingual. I am not female (which cuts me out of about 75% of all studies). I am not 40+ years old. I do not have a history of mental illness, nor does anyone in my family. (Insert pithy comment here.)
So imagine my surprise when a study on stress was looking for control subjects. I took the screening examination (a series of questions asking mostly about my physical health, mental health, drug and sexual history, etc), and qualified for the study. It entailed taking some "personality-like" tests. Supposedly only taking one hour of my valuable time, it offered $20 compensation. According to my calculations, I make less than $7 an hour, so $20 is like a Christmas bonus!
I took the tests, filling them out faster than anyone ever had, I am sure. It still took me an hour. Which means that with the prescreen, it took a total of one hour 15 minutes. (They are sneaky that way, aren't they?) When I went to pick up my $20 cash, I was asked a few more questions. To my delight, I found out that I qualify for another study that pays $40-60. Hesitantly, I asked about it. ($60 moves the study into the pain category.)
This other study requires that I donate blood (1.5 to 2 ounces, or about 4 tablespoons; about 60 mLs for you scientists or metric system users). On a later date I have to take a test while be exposed to stressful things. One such stressful event is noise emanating from headphones. The noise would get progressively louder. The other thing is electric shocks, on the level of static electricity. I believe that the woman mentioned that the shocks were applied to my finger, which is good. For $60, those shocks might be applied anywhere... The shocks also increase in intensity. I was told that the study will end when I am uncomfortable. It should not reach the level of pain. I can take these tests under stress for one or two days. If two, they have to be consecutive. Another $20 for one day, $40 if I go both.
Today I donated the blood, got paid, and signed up to do 2 days of test taking next week. Mwa ha ha! Foolish researchers! They have no idea that I am the zen master. I figure I can withstand more than anyone they ever tested, even if I am not supposed to try. I plan to throw off their distribution, big time. :)
Interestingly, the informed consent waiver-thing I had to sign today included some interesting language. First, this sentence:
Your data and DNA will be sent to a repository run by the National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH) and will be maintained as a national resource to qualified research scientists around the world...
Note that this is the same NIMH in the book (and movie) "Mrs Frisby and the rats of NIMH," aka" The secret of NIMH." Also, observe the words "national resource." That's right, my DNA is a national resource, baby. Carefully preserved and guarded for future generations to benefit from. Additionally, there were these two sentences concerning consent to let researchers studying... things, other than stress, use my DNA:
It is important that you understand that if you agree to this additional consent, we do not know at this time all the ways in which your DNA might be used. It is possible that some of the uses may be troubling to some individuals.
Sounds awesome! I can only hope that my DNA is used in unsavory ways! Without any hesitation whatsoever I immediately signed the additional consent. Imagine the possibilities...
So for those of you out there who participated in research studies in the past, perhaps during college, let's hear all about it.
This weekend Yilin and I experienced perfection, after many many hours of paying our dues. But first, let me tell you about my first* celebrity sighting in NYC.
*OK, not really my first. In either the autumn of 1999 or spring 2000, I saw a guy who starred in a sitcom that was cancelled. I can't even remember the name of the show to IMDB him. That's how big of a celebrity he was.
While leaving the BAM theater after "Hedda Gabler" I saw Ed Bradley from "60 Minutes." Now, I never would've recognized him if I didn't have TV this past year, and I must thank my roommate for that one. Exciting, huh?
Aaaanyway, Saturday night marked 3 birthday parties, one of which was a joint birthday party. The first was my pal Laura, who had her party at this cool bar in Brooklyn called "Floyd." Yilin and I made the adventurous trek down there and stayed for about an hour before trying to get to the Lower East Side of Manhattan. Let's just say that our subway experience was... long. Insanely long for what is probably a 5 minute drive, or $6 cab ride.
Once in the LES, we (eventually) met up with birthday-ites Katie and Jonah at a bar called "Fat Baby." We had a few drinks, chatted, and then began the trip back to WH because it was far too late to head to birthday party #3. By the time I dropped her off at her place, it was about 3:10am. Was I exhausted.
Sunday morning I woke up. Was I exhausted. I convinced Yilin to take the subway down to Claude's, despite her reluctance to ever ride it again. (We had spent more time during the previous night waiting in the subway stations and on the trains than we had at birthday parties.) I also convinced her to have a chocolate croissant at Claude's, something she never does (she usually has a bite of mine).
Why? Because chocolate is like a drug for her: when she eats it, she gets high. As a result, she doesn't like to eat it in the morning. However, as she was tired and not feeling well, I was able to convince her. Boy, was she glad I did. Claude saw us walk in, asked if we were going to stay this time (last time we were there we picked up croissants for my parents; he remembered that we had ordered to go!), and then brought out 2 chocolate croissants for us, from the back!
Let me explain why this is exciting: Claude clearly has preferred customers. It is obvious, because when one of these people walks in he says "Bon jour" and brings these people the freshest pastries from the back. Naturally, Yilin and I wanted to obtain this status, so we have made a point of going to Claude's every weekend, including at about 7am during the snowstorm that dumped about 20" a month or so ago. We also make a point of saying "Hello" and "Goodbye" (me in English and Yilin in French). Finally, our tactics have paid off!
Back to the croissants: These were perfect. Really. Crispy golden brown flaky crust, warm melting dark chocolate, rich and satisfying and straight from the cooling rack. As the other guy who usually helps bake wasn't present, we can only assume that the croissants were perfect because Claude made them himself, and without the bumbling apprentice to interfere!
I realize that this must sound ridiculous. "It's only a croissant." Ha. David is only a statue by some Michael guy. Sure, you could get a croissant that is >90% perfect at a few good bakery/pastry shops in NYC. But 100% perfect? Nowhere but Claude's. In fact, I need to update the links in the sidebar on my Food page, such that the link text reads "The God of Pastry" and points to Patisserie Claude.
After tasting Heaven, we were in such a good mood for the rest of the day. Yilin reminded me that I should buy a suit, so we took a look around 5th Ave and came across some people handing out fliers for designer suits at 40-60% off. Stop. I did say "designer suits" and I was inclined to look. I have never tried on a suit that fit me well, and getting a custom-tailored suit in NYC can be a bit pricy. So we decided to check it out.
Suits off-the-rack don't really fit me because I am not fat. Right now I am a 46 chest and 34 waist (I haven't been exercising much, hence the small chest and large waist). Any American made off-the-rack suit with a 46 jacket has a 40 waist. Six inches is a lot for a very good tailor to take off a pair of pants and have them look ok. So what to do? Well, apparently some European designers make suits that are more fitted. So I figured I would try one on.
The result? I tried on a suit that fit me so well I was amazed. It didn't fit perfect: the pants weren't quite right as I have a large butt. However, the salesman/owner of the small shop said he could easily tailor them to fit properly. You ask what sort of suit could fit me so well? How about an Italian designer named "Valentino"? Retail price: $1200. My price: much less. So, I decided to go for it. Of course, Yilin was drooling, and that made it easier. When I pick up my charcoal grey suit, I will be turning heads I tell you.
Last night Yilin and I went to see the off off off Broadway production of Hedda Gabler. When I say "off off off Broadway" I mean it. We traveled way out into Brooklyn to see it at the BAM Harvey Theater. (BAM stands for Brooklyn Academy of Music, which is purportedly famous. Why they show plays if they are a music academy is beyond me.) It was pretty darn good. Even though it was easy to understand all of the characters' personalities and motivations, I couldn't really relate to any of them.
Which is funny because Hedda's husband is a guy trying to publish a book and get hired by the local university. If there were any character that I should be able to relate to, it would be him, right? Wrong. He was a nerd. He spent their entire 6 month honeymoon searching rare book shops for medieval manuscripts on crops. When I have my 6 month honeymoon I certainly won't be reading. Not even street signs or menus, never mind developmental biology.
So why go to such lengths to see a play? I suppose because it is starring Cate Blanchett (the elf lady in The Lord of the Rings) and Hugo Weaving (the elf guy in The Lord of the Rings, and Agent Smith in The Matrix). With every other sentence Hugo Weaving uttered I was waiting for him to say, "Hello, Mr. Anderson." It was particularly amusing because I didn't even realize he was in the play, but I kept thinking, "This guy sounds like Agent Smith." After the actors and actresses bowed to the audience, Cate smacked Hugo's ass as they left the stage. I have no idea what it was about, but it amused me.
Cate was good, but so was everyone else. Afterward, Yilin, Katie, and Maggie were all talking about how "gorgeous" Cate Blanchett is. I have come to realize in my later years that women have an odd and distorted sense of what "beauty" is. Cate Blanchett may be pretty, but that is at best. And I have heard women describe Keira Knightley as "not that pretty." Pfft. Cate Blanchett gorgeous? Keira Knightley not that pretty? OK, whatever helps them sleep at night...
On another note, I saw my first famous person last night, and I don't mean either of the leading actors. Well, almost my first famous person. More about that later. I am supposed to be doing research instead of writing blog entries, so they tell me.
My parents came into NYC this past Saturday just to visit.
I woke up fairly early, went to lab, did the bare minimum, met up with Yilin, headed down to Claude's to get croissants for my parents, met my parents at Grand Central, walked up Central Park East (aka 5th Ave) to the Frick Collection, saw it, walked down Madison or Park for a good while, stopped in Fauchon, hopped in a cab to have lunch at Po, walked all over the place, ended up in Chinatown, stopped at Pearl River Mart, walked around Chinatown some more, headed towards the Brooklyn Bridge, hopped on the subway and went to Grimaldi's, walked to the Brooklyn Bridge just as the sun was setting behind Manhattan, watched Manhattan light up after the sunset while we walked across the bridge, jumped onto the subway to take my parents to Grand Central, went home and slept. Phew!
Sunday was a day of rest.
So last year the AFI (American Film Institute) released the top 100 movie quotes of all time ever. I disagree with more than a few of their choices.
Why? Consider this: Who's ever heard of some of these movies (Yankee Doodle Dandee, Moonstruck, Auntie Mame), never mind the quotes? Sure, there is representation in the top 10 from a number of well-loved "classics" that everyone of my generation could quote from without having even seen the movie (#1, 2, 5, and 6). But what about the movies that we (and other people both older and younger) can quote and be understood? Perhaps movies that aren't so much "classic" in an art film sense, but classic as in "everybody likes that movie" kind of way. Rather than list absent quotes from absent movies here, I ask you, my readers, to submit your favorite movie quote of all time in my comments. (If you are having trouble, look up the movie on IMDB, and then on the left you will see a link for "memorable quotes." They are usually fairly accurate.)
I will start with some of my favorite quotes, from some of my favorite movies (listed by genre, and I can't expect anyone to know the 2nd or 3rd, but you darn well better know the 1st):
Comedy:
Winston Zeddemore: "Ray, when someone asks if you're a god you say, 'Yes!'"
-Ghostbusters
Western:
William Munny: "I ain't like that no more."
-Unforgiven
Kung Fu:
Thunderlegs: "I'm going to break every bone in your body and send you to Hell."
-Drunken Master
Of course, I left out the most-quoted movie of my generation. I leave it to you to decide what that is. However it should be obvious from the slate of comments I (hopefully) will receive...
On Sunday I decided to cut my hair, as my mop was really getting out of control. (I had to comb it; no more getting up, throwing on clothes, and running into lab without serious bedhead.) My intention was leave as much hair on my head as the clippers would allow, as the women in my life (read as my Mom and Yilin) seem to prefer me with hair, for reasons I will never understand. (No comments about me altering my appearance for women, thank you very much.)
How hard could this be? I picked up the clippers, put on the attachment that allows for the longest length of hair to remain on my head, and BZZZZZT. Not so tough, although my hair was long enough to lie flat so it took a little work. Then I went to shave my neckline, using no attachment on the clippers. BZZZZZT. Apparently that was a mistake.
Yilin came in to check on me, as I asked for help to straighten out my neckline. "Oh Honey, you made a boo-boo." I ask her to fix it, cutting my hair shorter if necessary. She tries with a short attachment. No good. She tries with the shortest attachment. Still no good. Heck with it, I says, and use the clippers without any attachment whatsoever, just like the good old days. So once again, I am bald.
At first Yilin wasn't sure about it, but she keeps telling me she likes it, so I don't feel so bad anymore. My Mom, on the other hand, who is visiting this weekend will make that face which tells me that she doesn't like it. ;)
In other news, after 2.3 years of using my first credit card almost exclusively for all of my spending (i.e., never using cash or my debit card if I could possibly use my credit card), I finally earned enough airline miles to get one free coach class ticket to anywhere within the continental United States or Canada. How pathetic.
I was surfing the web, as I am wont to do occasionally, and came across a page on some new age health website touting the benefits of wheat grass. (If you must know, I was wondering how much chlorophyll is in wheat grass juice as a matter of scientific curiousity.) It is web pages, nay, web sites like this that make these people look ridiculous. There are sentences with multiple factual errors, such asChlorophyll is the first product of light and, therefore, contains more light energy than any other element.
Even though I haven't taken any plant biology in over a decade, my basic understanding is that chlorophyll is not a product of light, as in "light makes chlorophyll," but rather it absorbs energy from sunlight. And by "basic understanding" I mean "extensive knowledge of cell biology, biochemistry, and chemistry." Also, according to the periodic table of elements, chlorophyll is not an element. Trust me, I checked it twice.
You think that was good? How about this gem:
Wheatgrass has what is called the grass-juice factor which has been shown to keep herbivorous animals alive indefinitely.
Unbelievable! Herbivores can live forever! Who knew? I am going to buy a cow and resist the temptation to butcher it. If what they say is true, it will outlive me! Heck, from this day forward I am going to be an herbivore!
Sure, how about I just absorb that enigmatic "grass-juice factor" by eating raw meat at Peter Luger's? Grass-juice factor my ass. That's like the Lorentz-Poincare ether theory: there's this invisible stuff all around us that permeates everything and it's called the ether. LIght travels through and interacts with the ether, but we can't. Yeah. Disproven with 19th century lights and mirrors. (Unless you believe this guy, who can't publish his work.)
Pseudo-science cracks me up. Anyone else got some good examples to make me laugh?
Happy International Women's Day.
(And you thought I didn't care about chicks.)
Does anyone really use cursive handwriting in their everyday life? Oh sorry, I should say, "Does anyone write in script in their everyday life?" What I use is apparently called "print" although I call it "easy." Is anybody ever required to write in any particular style or alphabet? No. Even signatures can be made up. Look at Prince; his name is written as a freaking symbol.
The last time I wrote anything in cursive was when I took the GRE and the GRE II. At the end of the page where you write in your name, social security number, address, age, sex, astrological sign, etc, you are required to "write" and "not print" a statement saying that you won't cheat, which you then sign and date. Let me tell you, that was the hardest part of the test. I think it took me 4 minutes just to remember how to write the capital letter "I" in cursive. I had to practice on scrap paper so that I wouldn't appear to be an idiot to whoever read that page. It then took me at least 2 more minutes just to write the dumb sentence.
Of course, I hate writing in cursive. When I was a little kid learning cursive (2nd grade?), I did poorly in "penmanship." I mean really bad. My mom yelled at me because my grade was so bad. (I think I got a C; maybe a D if we had them, but I am pretty sure I passed.) I was dumbfounded and perplexed. It was like writing in another language, the letters looked so different. As far as I was concerned, my penmanship was brilliant. I masterfully traced each letter as I familiarized myself with its shape, and then copied perfect inch-high letters onto the lined pages without tracing. Yet I got really bad grades.
At first I thought my teacher's vision was failing, or that she had forgotten what cursive writing was supposed to look like. Then I realized that the problem was me. What was going on? As someone who loved to draw all the time (and was far better at it than most of the other kids, nay, all of the other kids), how could my artistic ability not translate into essentially drawing simple letters? This is when I put a curse on cursive, a pox on penmanship, and a hex on handwriting. I swore outloud that as soon as I was no longer required to write in cursive, I would never do it again. And I hadn't until the GREs.
Since then there have been very few occasions where it has been necessary, and every time I curse and swear at the idiocy of an inferior alphabet.
This weekend Yilin and I got her more settled in to her apartment. Saturday we went to Fairway (a really really nice grocery store with low prices; you have to either take the subway and walk a decent distance, or take advantage of a free shuttle that stops right outside some of the Columbia student housing) and then bought some amazing porterhouse steak for dinner. Yilin went on a shopping spree at two warehouse sales, finding a plethora of bargains. We topped off the day with the aforementioned steak.
Sunday I set up her new portable washing machine (the kind you hook up to the sink) so that she could do laundry. After not a little frustration in assembling pieces that don't exactly fit (good thing I am strong), as well as systematically deducing the number of washers it takes to get all of the hoses leak-free, we found that it works well. We were heading out for a stroll up and around Fort Tryon Park when we ran into Mike and Hyunmi, who were on their way to Target. Mike and I decided to carry his piano to Yilin's apartment about 10 blocks away (one half of a mile) later that afternoon. So we met up and carried it. Slightly uncomfortable for me, perhaps moreso for Mike as he had run a race that morning. Yilin and Hyunmi carried the music books and piano bench.
We met up with them again that night, along with Katie, and watched most of the Academy Awards. During that time, Mike and Hyunmi showed us an online personality test called "Personal DNA". My result? Attentive Leader. I scored uber-high on the traits Confidence, Openness, Masculinity, Authoritarianism and Function. Conversely, I scored uber-low on the traits Trust in Others (which surprised me some), Femininity, Attention to Style, and Aesthetic. You can view my profile here. (That is the link to send to my friends. Why it allows "my friends" to send the report to themselves or copy and paste code for my "personalDNA map" is beyond me. Get your own!) While I may not agree 100% with what it says, it was fun to take the test and compare my results with Mike, Hyunmi, and Yilin (whose profile was quite opposite mine).
There is an interesting feature called Psych You/Psych Me! which allows people to see how their friends perceive them. If you follow this link then you can assess me and let me know what you think of my personality. (You need to have taken the test yourself and gotten a receipt to do this. If you take the test, please post the report in the comments, or email it to me if you don't know how or don't want it posted.)
Last night I wondered aloud what other profiles might be named. Hyunmi predicted that none of the profile names were negative. After a brief test this morning I think she is correct. I took the test again, this time I answered as if I were the most passive, weak-willed, slave-to-society ever. This profile was given the name "Benevolent Dreamer". I believe a more appropriate name would be "Weak Follower".
So take the test yourself, assess my personality, post the results, and let's have a good laugh.
I haven't been updating my blog very much recently, I know. A quick summary of what I have been up to:
Lab.
Also, this past weekend Yilin's parents visited and got to see her new apartment. I had a great time and it was a lot of fun seeing them again. We did a lot of eating, which I always enjoy (especially when we go to El Rey de Pollo aka El Malecon!).
Let me tell you something: the Chen women can shop. Saturday and Sunday we visited various stores and walked all over Manhattan. I have never seen anything like it. Also, I feel that Mr. Chen and I were only holding Mrs. Chen and Yilin back; without us they probably could've hit twice the number of stores. Crazy, I know, but true. Yilin made out like a bandit, however, as her parents bought her a vast array of household stuff. Towels and dishes and all that great stuff that moms like to make sure that their kids have.
The weekend ended with a nice dinner at New Leaf Cafe (go WH restaurants!), and Monday afternoon they were headed back to Montreal.
Oh yeah, I got my NY state and federal tax returns this week. Did you even file yet?
