Quoteworthy


...quaecumque sunt vera, quaecumque pudica, quaecumque justa, quaecumque sancta, quaecumque amabilia, quaecumque bonae famae, si qua virtus, si qua laus disciplinae, haec cogitate.
-- Phil. 4:8

Take yourself less seriously

I was reading Viktor Frankl's The Doctor and The Soul and I was particularly fascinated by a particular therapy technique called paradoxical intention, which have been successful for anxiety attack patients. Frankl describes a patient who sweats a lot when he is meeting new people. The paradoxical intention treatment advised is that when the patient feels the anxiety attack coming, he would have to tell himself, in good humour, to sweat a lot, in buckets. The patient found that when deliberately invoked, he could not sweat! And this treatment have been successful for other anxiety attack sufferers and other obsessive-compulsive disorders.
I was intrigued, not by the treatment in itself, but it just dawned on me that actually some psychoses originate from taking yourself too seriously; or in other words the inability to laugh at yourself; that's why the paradoxical intention has to be applied in ironical manner, in good humour! As Frankl himself points out, only humans have a sense of humour. This is not trivial, since the presence of humour indicates that we have higher level of consciousness: we are able to detach ourselves and observe from another perspective (theory of mind comes to mind). To be able to laugh at yourself, at all, means you have to transcend yourself.
I suppose the use of humour as defense mechanism is not new for some, especially for those in grad school, whose spirits will just break in the face of it all without a coping mechanism.We fail our experiment, drone at our workstation, wonder on the meaning of life, check our PHD comics and get back to it when we have laughed at ourselves sufficiently.
So if you are having existential crisis just go laugh at the face of the cosmos, laugh at the cosmic irony of existence, laugh at yourself for failing to pinpoint what exactly is the irony. You may look totally insane but actually that will keep you sane.     

An unfinished poem of the unrequited

My fantasies are sketchy
like the black-and-white outlines
in a colouring book
Were they be too vivid,
they might jump out
of the pages,
the beasts of reality

I caught a sight of you.
The door slightly ajar, I passed by
a glimpse of you
Pangs and twangs
tugging of heartstrings
vibrations too low to be picked up
by human ears
The frequency of emotions
guttural, deep, and low
that which sends blood coursing,
flooding the vessels,
And the vessels are like cracks
on a broken vessel.

Wordless poems

I remember I wrote a post on a swimming forum sometime ago, something about long-distance swimming. Someone was wondering how long-distance swimmers can endure the lap repetition and stuff like that. I wrote something to this effect: I don't get bored because I got to think, pondering about the problems in school, about unrequited feelings, and incubate wordless poems. The phrase wordless poems occurred to me right then and there and has stuck ever since. Wordless poems. Subconscious jumble. Primordial soup of thought. Aren't we all carrying wordless poems in our heads? That which sometimes has never found its home until we die. Those homeless hermit crabs crawling on the beach bordering the sea of knowledge. Wordless does not mean voiceless. Give it volume, construct meanings out of it, give it a home, give it wings, and let loose.

The flag of ignorance

I heard this somewhere, I think, in a Christian apologist's podcast, arguing about absolute truth:
If everything is relative, then this statement is relative, too.
That stuck with me for the longest time because it is a solid shelter in the wake of Postmodernism.
But no, it's not about Postmodernism. I found that people I talk with (or others in a certain social media) are simply using Relativism because they don't bother to find out, really. 
A friend expressed his astonishment when I was reading a book related to Zen Buddhism:
"But, aren't you a Christian?"
"Yes, but what's wrong with finding out more about other beliefs?"
(Shakes head) "My other Christian friends simply wouldn't do that."
That, I don't understand. How can you defend your own belief if you don't know about others'? Now, I can only attribute that to laziness. Postmodernism is indeed one of those terms that is bloated beyond recognition and no one can offer a succinct definition of it anymore. It's a hand-waving, sweeping-under-the-rug thing. I don't bother to find out, so to cut the conversation short, I shove it to that trashbin of meanings, Postmodernism.
On the other end of the spectrum, there is a striking parallel with God of the Gaps thinking -- I don't understand and God is the totality of what's mysterious, what I don't understand. The danger of this, of course, your God would become smaller and smaller as you understand more, like Santa Claus is becoming less and less real when you are growing up.

Seekers of Truth, don't rally under the flag of ignorance.

A Structural Biologist's Manifesto

"So, what are you studying?" Depending on who is asking, the length of my answer would vary. See, since I go to grad school, quite a number of people are asking me that; and answering 'Biomolecular NMR' would draw some blank stares.
So, go back a little: Chemistry. Ah, my undergrad major, and since my lab uses analytical chemistry technique (i.e. Nuclear Magnetic Resonance) to probe biomolecular structures, this answer is not too far off the mark.
"So why are you in the School of Biology?" Ahem. Here we go again.
So, the slightly longer and my supposed official areas of study: Structural and Computational Biology. I think I shall reintroduce my clockwork analogy here. Imagine a clockwork with all its gears running inside. If one would want to know how exactly the clockwork mechanism work, one would want to take it apart and see the gears; how they are connected together, what are their shapes that fit each other so that the concerted mechanism is running. Now, every living thing is also a machine, a biochemical machinery, that, like a clockwork, consists of tiny, tiny parts that are grinding away and give rise to life as we know it. Ideally we want to map how these biomolecular gears interact with each other (i.e. the interactome). Prior to that we would want to know how these tiny gears look like. The structures of these tiny gears are then what the structural biologist would like to know.
'To know' here, as in all areas of science (or anything, really), should be interpreted philosophically. The usual limit of what a structural biologist want to know goes beyond 'having a visual representation'. Sure, it's nice to know what these biomolecules look like since we normally can't see them with naked eyes. But blobby blobs at crappy resolution (say, 15 Å) doesn't tell much. Like a blurry text on a document for example; it's unreadable. What we would like to know, ideally, is the visual representation at the resolution of individual atoms (i.e. atomistic resolution). The blurry text on your document now gains some sharpness; now you can distinguish individual letters; it's now legible. Often, this is sufficient to establish how it behaves, how it interacts with, say, water molecules, metal ions, drug molecules, or other biomolecules.
To even arrive at this point is an accomplishment (to illustrate, resolving a previously unresolved structure of a big protein and analysing its structure-function relationship may occupy the whole PhD thesis, to give you a sense of scale). Could we do better, you ask? Erm, there's actually some problems -- hitting the philosophical wall, so to speak. Let me explain.
*WARNING: TECHNICAL TERMS AHEAD*
So, there are two common techniques used to probe biomolecular structures. (Oh, when we are talking about biomolecules, we mostly talk about proteins -- the biomachinery mostly comprises them).
The first is X-ray diffraction. It works by interpreting the diffraction pattern of X-ray by electron density of the atoms that make up the biomolecule. Since the atoms are arranged in a particular way for a biomolecule, the diffraction patterns are unique to each biomolecule; and long story short, the X-ray crystallographer would be able to construct back the electron densities of the biomolecule, thus she would able build a model of the biomolecule.
Now, problem #1, for a nice diffraction pattern, you would need repeating units, so you would need crystal of your protein, and crystallising a protein is honestly a PITA. Arising from that, problem #2, you would try a lot of different conditions until you find one that is suitable for crystallisation -- who is to say that that particular condition doesn't affect the structure of your biomolecule? Still arising from problem #1, the protein in say, your body, is in aqueous environment, but in your crystal it is obviously in solid -- problem #3, who is to say that your protein structure is not altered by crystal packing, and problem #4, your final structure would be a static snapshot of the structure frozen in the crystal, while the structure in solution must be a lot more wiggly-diggly -- do you now claim you 'know' the structure? (There, your epistemological wall). Problem #5, most of the atoms comprising a biomolecule -- C, O, N, S, Se, and some metals -- have nice, fat electron densities, but that ubiquitous Hydrogen, the most abundant element in the Universe of things living and non-living, does not. As such, H atoms are not visible in the crystal structure. Problem #6, so are regions of the biomolecule that does not form regular repeating units (most likely because they are floppy).  Problem #7, when you are matching atoms to your electron density map, some are ambiguous (e.g. you can point sidechain A at this orientation, it fits ok, flip sidechain A 180° and it still fit ok, even though on one orientation it's N but the other is O -- since N and O have similar electron densities).
So your typical X-ray structure file would miss its H's and its flexible regions (the termini are usually susceptible); some sidechains may not be at their correct orientation; and there's only one frigging, static frame. Would you now consider you 'know' the structure?
Oh, then there's NMR. The laypeople would be more familiar with MRI (Magnetic Resonance Imaging). Indeed the underlying principle is the same: both exploit the same phenomenon, i.e. nuclear magnetic resonance which arises from nuclear spin (which belongs to the wonderful, you-will-understand-better-if-you-don't-try-to-understand-it world of quantum mechanics (for instance, there's no way to visualise quantum spin)). Long story short, NMR yields a set of restraints. If in X-ray crystallography one needs to fit the biomolecule to the little pockets of electron density, in NMR one needs to fit the molecule to satisfy these restraints. So you would have to know the amino acid sequence of your protein. So then you have a totally linear peptide -- make the peptide explore different conformations to satisfy the restraints, a game of Twister if you will. What you end with would be a set of conformers, which would be ranked according to their energy. Usually the first 20 low-energy conformers are deposited in public domain. The fact that there is a set of conformers, called an ensemble, is important. By aligning the conformers in an ensemble, it's usually clear which region is flexible -- the deviation for that particular region would be more pronounced across the conformers. So an NMR structure would have its H's, all amino acids visible and it's not a static snapshot (cf. X-ray structure). Also, if you do solution NMR, it's may be possible to as close to physiological condition as possible (may not be totally tractable because of limitation in NMR setup itself, e.g. NMR signal at high pH condition decays too fast).
While seemingly answering to all X-ray crystallography's woes, the NMR spectroscopist faces a totally different set of problems. First off #1, NMR is an indirect technique, unlike X-ray diffraction which directly constructs a map of electron densities. So NMR structure doesn't really have a concept of 'resolution', which makes it kind of hard to assess the quality of a structure. So, you have made your protein play a game of Twister to satisfy your restraints, now #2, the quality of restraints -- if I see a flexible region in the ensemble, is it really flexible region, or I didn't apply enough restraints, that's why it's fuzzy? #3, the game of Twister is called restrained molecular dynamics, basically a computer simulation. Of course, it's only possible to incorporate approximations and assumptions, not the whole physical law shebang, into the software. Some of those may not be appropriate and may affect the resulting structure in a significant way. There are some technical obstacles as well, like how the protein of interest needs to be isotopically labelled with NMR-active nuclei (15N, 13C). The final step of reconstructing the structure is tedious both for X-ray crystallography and NMR spectroscopy -- so that adds to the time needed to produce a good 3D representation of a protein. 
So, for the umpteenth time, after successfully determining a structure, the structural biologist should ask, metaphysically, Do I 'know' the structure?

Science, people. 

That's it. Next time I will just reply, "I do Science."