Weeknight Meal: Scrambled Pasta

As scientists, we are hard-pressed to thrown down delicious science all day and then be bothered to come home and thrown down delicious dinners at night. (Is it just me, or am I the only one who's part of a scientist marriage where the WOMAN is the only one who understands the definition of semi-healthy, homecooked meal? When my darling husband "makes dinner", I am inevitably left staring at a couple of slices of undercooked frozen pizza while he makes off to the couch with a beer and a bag of pretzels to watch the hockey game.)

Now, Science Mama has turned up the heat and is hosting a carnival meant to feature healthy and yummy meals that are easy to make on a weeknight. And so I present to you, dear readers, one of my favorite recipes, encountered years ago in my favorite magazine, Real Simple (although slightly modified). Because defrosting meat really puts a crimp in my style, my recipe is vegetarian. It takes about 30 minutes to make, start to finish. AND, there will be no bitching and moaning that I am not able to go all-out and present said recipe war-style a la Isis and PP. There has been no basil anywhere, people, and I refuse to make this dish without it.

Scrambled Pasta

• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• 1-2 green or red peppers, thinly sliced
• 4 whole scallions, thinly sliced
• 1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
• 6 large eggs
• 3/4 cup grated Parmesan, plus more for serving
• 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1/2 pound cooked spaghetti
• 1 cup finely chopped fresh basil leaves

1. Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium heat and sauté the green pepper, scallions, and crushed red pepper (if using) until the vegetables are tender but not brown.
2. In a medium bowl, whisk the eggs with the Parmesan and salt, then add to the skillet with the cooked spaghetti and basil. Toss gently over medium heat until the eggs are set.
3. Serve with grated Parmesan and crusty bread.

Voila!Figure 1: Shut-up Pasta. Aka: eat it, and shut up. Image taken from MyRecipes.com.

When Personal Life Interferes

Overcoming challenges: my self-proclaimed topic for this month's Scientiae carnival. Now I am one big challenge-overcomer, people, and I have a whole host of things I could discuss. But today, I will tell you a story about moving on professionally after personal heartbreak.

I moved across the country to Grad City with few possessions other than my prized sweater collection and a boyfriend who I shall henceforth refer to as The Chumpstar. He and I were both starting in the same graduate program together, both of our own free will, both because we honestly liked Grad University's program the best. We set up a life together, made a close group of friends together, worked across the hallway from one another, and eventually got engaged.

Except there was one problem: we weren't right for each other. We were young, and we were just going through the motions, doing what we thought we were supposed to do. We thought things were good enough.

Six months into the engagement, and two years into graduate school, with my research in full swing, I removed my head from my ass one day and realized that I had to break up with my fiance. I knew that it was the right thing to do, and I also knew that it was going to be bad. Little did I know how bad it was actually going to be.

I will save you from the drama that swallowed my life in one messy gulp. Suffice it to say that I lost everything and everyone. My fiance did not take the break-up well, and made my life a living hell. I lost not only my life with him, but I also lost my apartment, my car, and all of my friends. I lost the respect of my peers in my department. The Chumpstar had spread vicious rumors about me, and I wandered the halls at work with my colleagues whispering behind my back, telling me that I was a bitch and a whore.

I was 3,000 miles away from my family, and I had no support system. My pain was so severe, I stopped eating, and lost 20 pounds in two months. Not surprisingly, I also stopped working. I would come into work, and put on my headphones, and mindlessly stare at my computer in a daze, for what seemed like half a year. After personal tragedy, I had lost the ability to move forward. I was going nowhere.

It would be hard for me to say that I overcame this challenge on my own. After months of languishing about in the lab, my advisor, who I respected tremendously, called me into his office and told me that enough was enough. He told me that he appreciated my situation, but that it was time for me to get back on the horse and get some goddamn work done.

Now, I have always been a good girl. I never get into trouble. I am a first-born, over-achiever, never-had-a-detention, always-got-straight-A's kind of person. Never before had I lost control of my perceived excellence. And as such, my advisor's criticism was like a punch in the face.

It was so hard, people, so hard, but I grew a thicker layer of skin that month. I started ignoring the people at work who were out to destroy me, and instead I focused on what I knew would help to make me whole again: a fulfilling research program. I asked myself what I wanted to do, how I wanted to change the world, and slowly, slowly, I got the ball rolling again. I knew that there was more to my life than what it had become. And I found that my work, my efforts, my thoughts, could help me be healthy, could help me recover.

So what did I learn from all of this?

I came to understand that I am an amazing, resilient person. I came to understand that I am capable of being good to myself in the face of numbing personal breakdown. I came to understand that my work, my professional efforts, are a big part of who I am and a big part of what makes me happy.

We are stronger than we think, people. We can stand up tall in the face of the mightiest wind, and we can work, we can work to be something better.

--
Send me your submissions, readers. The deadline is tonight, but I can accommodate you if you're a bit late. I like to be a hard-ass about deadlines, you know, but it's difficult to be a hard-ass when it comes to stuff like a blogging carnival.

A Full Year of Candor and Delight

Today is a big day, oh readers: it's my blogiversary. I guess that's like a birthday, except not nearly as fun. Probably a good thing, since I typically have way too much fun on my birthday.

But I figure it's a pretty good time to reflect on this blog and tell you about where we are.

The purpose of this blog has certainly evolved over the course of the last year. It started as something meant to help me connect with other scientists at a very difficult time in my career (transitioning to my postdoc position at Brilliant University), and I needed all of the support I could get. This place served as a positive outlet for my frustrations and concerns.

But my situation at work gradually changed, and as I became happier, the content of this blog has become more optimistic and more scientifically-focused. I am here, partially, to entertain, yes. I am here, partially, to continue to receive advice and support from my readers.

But I am also here because I want to serve as an example to younger readers: It is possible to be a successful scientist doing top-notch research at a top-notch place while being a normal person, engaging myself in normal extracurricular activities, and avoiding work on the weekends. And as I have come to realize is an important distinction for many in the blogosphere: I do all this while also managing to be a w-w-woman. No, I don't have kids yet, blah blah blah, but I'll make it happen people, don't worry.

I assume you like my content, or else you wouldn't continue coming back here to read the stuff I throw down. I try to emphasize quality over quantity (except during weeks when I'm working on NIH proposals and get a little bored). As such, I will never subject you to checklists or itineraries because (although I am a fascinating person) I know you don't really care. If I don't have anything good to say, I try not to say it. In general, I aim to be the writer that I like to read: concise, witty, amusing, relevant, and also awesome. Turbo awesome.

For those out there who love quantitative data as much as I do, I've provided a graph depicting the growth of my traffic over time. Kind of amazing, perhaps- this is probably the nicest time-course data that I could obtain in any sector of my life.

Figure 1: Christmas puts a real fucking damper on my blog traffic.

And now it is time for the outreach segment of this post, because even though I'm The Decider when it comes to content on this blog, I also care about what you, my readers, think. So leave me a comment telling me why you come here (so I can keep doing that) and/or what you'd like to see more of (although I may ignore you). Think of it as a teaching evaluation, if you will. Because a little constructive feedback is appreciated every once in a while.

Thanks so much for reading, and a special thanks to my commenters, who make the conversation all the more interesting. Because, really, soliloquies are never any fun.

Two Things

#1: A reminder: The Scientiae carnival submission deadline is only a few days away, so get thinking, get typing, and send me your nuggets of wisdom re: overcoming challenges by March 29. I'd also like to reiterate my special invitation to all of my male readers as well as any Scientiae carnival virgins to contribute a little something. We'd love to have your input.

#2: On a completely separate note, I know I never really followed up on the results of all of our house-hunting bullshit. But I wanted to assure you that we are in a place that makes us very, very happy. This picture was taken months ago, shortly after we moved in. That darling plant has since completely infested us with fungus gnats, five of which I've killed with my bare hands (!) since starting this post. Fear not, precious readers, soil treatment and conditioning is underway.

Figure 1: Never mind the breath-taking sunset, people. This is the plant that has ruined my life.

On the Nature of Bloggy Relationships

I've been writing as a part of this scientific blogging community for about a year now, and I've been reading some of your blogs for even longer than that. I, too, have been surprised by the sense of camaraderie that has developed within me for other members of this faction of the interwebs.

I tell you so much of what's on my mind. I come here, several times a week, and I let (almost) all of it out. Many of you do the same. It's almost like we know each other.

Except we don't.

My best friend lives on the other side of the country. I love her and miss her, yet I only talk to her maybe once or twice a month. When I do talk to her, yes, she gets more than a couple of well-constructed paragraphs (I don't heavily edit my conversations with her, nor do I check for grammar, nor do I have to look up how to spell camaraderie because I've fucked it up so badly that even the spell check doesn't know what the fuck I'm trying to say). Anyhow, my point is that you practically know as much about my state of being as my best friend, if not more.

And yet, we're not drinking Car Bombs or Amstel Lights together, people.

I've gotten myself into weird situations a couple of times now in my real life. I will have read a funny story of one of yours, or maybe something that was scientifically very interesting. And I'll relay that story to one of my colleagues. "Oh, who'd you hear that from?", they'll ask. "Uhh... uhh... a friend of mine... yeah."

Even better was last week, when PhysioProf launched himself into my scientific heart by providing some much-needed and excellent advice to me regarding revisions to my NIH proposal. I shared his tips with one of my labmates, who (of course) asked about the source of the advice. I said, "Oh, a friend of mine who has NIH funding". I was terrified she'd ask for the name of my PI-friend. Uhhh, first name: Comrade, surname: Physioprof? It just seemed all wrong.

It got even weirder over dinner, when I described to my husband the significant revisions I was making to my proposal. "So", he says, "You're completely overhauling your proposal based on the advice of someone who you don't even know. Someone who calls themselves a 'comrade'. He could be some crack whore from New Jersey masquerading as an NIH-funded PI. Yeah, Candid Engineer, this situation is totally normal. Tell that one to your reviewers."

--

So what's a pseudononymous blogger to do? Offer an invitation, of course. For those of you bloggers who know the place that is CandidLand, let me know if you're ever in the area for a conference, for shits and giggles, or whatever. I can buy you a drink (or two or five, depending on how fun you are), and then we can add faces and names to all of this other nonsense, because at the end of the day, there is so much more to all of us than words.

The End of the World

I am going to share with you my absolute favorite animation of all time. My husband and I have been watching this together for years, dating back to a time when we were little more than two people in bad relationships staring wistfully at each other from across the couch after too many glasses of Chuck's Two-Buck cabernet sauvignon. Obviously, this animation is at the core of our relationship.

After the animation loads, you will need to click the start button. Oh, and make sure your sound is on.

The End of the World

So, a typical scenario in our house is that my husband will come home at the end of the day to find me sitting on the couch, reading blogs, and he will say (in the voice of the dude in the animation): "Hokay, here is de wife. Damn. That is a pretty sweet wife, you might say." And so on.

Also, for some reason, he and I use that voice for animals. As in, (for the birds), "Damn, have you seen that silver car lately, the one with no redeeming features? Hokay, let's go shit all over it."

Bend Over, Revise, and Resubmit

My day has drifted away, leaving me suspended in a fog of bullshit and fancy, flowing language. Yes, that's right, it's that time of year, folks. The NIH postdoc fellowship deadline is approaching ever steadily, and I am desperate to get this junk out of my life and back into the arms of the talentless insightful reviewers who may or may not be overseeing the processing of my resubmission.

One of the major challenges of my revision is how to address the reviewers' fundamental concern that my proposal is "underwhelming, incremental, unimaginative, and trivial". If we allow ourselves to move past the fact that these reviewers are unequivocally ill-acquainted with the Mango field (else they would understand the difference between 'trivial' and 'cutting-edge' research), we are left with the sad state of reality: despite the utter brilliance of my experimental plans, my communication with these people has left them unconvinced.

When looking at it objectively, the reviewer's four adjectives of choice convey little more to me than a sense of boredom. They don't see the point in what I'm doing. They don't feel that it's going to help anyone. They don't think I'm asking important questions.

Instead of changing the fundamentals of what I'm trying to do (which really are not boring at all), I've decided that I need to do a better job of convincing the reviewers that my ideas are exactly the ideas that need to be executed in order to progress the Mango field.

How to convince them? Well, today I've started by detailing my beautifully impressive preliminary studies on Mangoes. The idea is for them to be impressed by what I've already accomplished, and I hope that these accomplishments will give me some credibility in their eyes. Because really, my year of experience working in the Mango field has given me a lot of insight into what works, what doesn't, and what we need to do next to make a big impact. So anyway, I tell them that I've done all of this great shit, and that the great shit has given me great insight. And then I lay this out for them:

"Armed with this prior experience, I herein detail a proposal that is feasible, timely, and capable of identifying exciting new and improved Mangoes while addressing the most outstanding issues with Mango development."

I finished writing this sentence, and I surprised myself by actually saying "Boo-yes" out loud. This tactic is my best effort for today. Maybe tomorrow, I will decide that instead of trying to convince them that I'm an expert, perhaps a more passive approach would be preferred. Thoughts/constructive comments are appreciated from those of you who may have some experience. More detail would be helpful, I realize, but there is only so much I can say in this venue.

Don't Mess With Me

In case anyone doubted the fact that I am not someone with whom you'd want to fuck around, I give you this:

Figure 1: Buffer a la CE. The fact that I wouldn't even be able to break my grandmother's arm is absolutely immaterial.

The back-story to this buffer is that, well, when I needed to use my buffer one day long ago, I discovered that it had gone missing. Now, I keep this 1x solution on my accessible shelf, and my 10x stock on a higher shelf. You would think that the person snatching my buffer would have been satisfied with the 1x. But oh, no. They took the 1x and the 10x. Asshat. Never found out who it was, but if I do, I'll break their arm. In the meantime, this threat has served as an adequate deterrent.

One of my other favorites, to be sure, involves the lab chair of one of my friend/colleagues. Said friend kept having his lab chair stolen and replaced with a malfunctioning imitator. Solution? Bring in Candid Engineer, who decorated the back of the chair with multi-colored lab tape. I crafted a lovely pink and green flower (to convey a feeling of friendliness) and also labeled the chair with "Don't touch me, motherfucker!" (to convey a feeling of fear). Needless to say, my handiwork got the job done.

Anyone need me to kick some ass in their lab? My going rate is $33.95 per hour.

Stupid Is As Stupid Does

Several days ago, circumstances had me stuck in a conference room for over an hour with a large handful of my labmates, waiting for a meeting to begin. The conversation, per usual, was painful: a game, if you will, between the forces in the room who most like to hear themselves talk.

One particular labmate started talking about fellowships, and about how we had received an announcement for what appeared to be an applicable fellowship the week before, but upon further reading, it turned out to be a fellowship for the study of eating disorders (which has nothing to do with our Mango research).

The dialogue somehow devolved into what I would describe as a shockingly ignorant discussion on eating disorders. Several people commented on how they felt such fellowships were a waste of money; how there was no scientific basis for eating disorders; how the problem is all "mental"; how you can tell who has an eating disorder just by looking at them; how the solution is simple- EAT MORE FOOD!

All of this, from a group of cream-of-the-crop, biomedically-inclined researchers. A load of bullshit, from a group of people hoping to cure cancer and AIDS.

--

One day in September, a couple of years ago, hands shaking, I picked up my cell and made a phone call. When a woman on the other end of the line answered, I told her that I had an eating disorder, and that I needed help.

I didn't look like someone who had an eating disorder. I was healthy, I exercised moderately, and had a BMI of 22. Yet, I housed this secret, and I lived with it, and as the months went by, the problem only got worse. For me, you see, it was never about food, but about control. It was about the control I felt like I didn't have in the rest of my life.

That period of time was terrible. I felt terrible. I felt like I had all of the wrong answers. But I got help, I rebalanced the rest of my life, and my eating disorder faded away. I remember the turning point as clear as day, three and some months after I started treatment. I walked upstairs, ready to throw up my lunch as usual, and I just stopped. I said to myself, "You do not do this anymore." And I haven't since.

--

Sitting in that conference room, feeling the ignorance of their words punching me in the gut, I wondered if I should say something. I wondered if I should tell them how very wrong they are. I've already told many of them, in an effort to educate and to dispel the stigma associated with mental illness, my stories of anxiety and medical intervention. And I felt like I'd already shared enough. My anger, that day, kept me silent*. Sometimes stupidity seems too big of a beast for me to fight.

*Remarkable, really, because few things keep me silent.

The fellowship announcement, if any of you are interested, can be found here.

20 Minute Job Talk

When postdoc candidates interview in my lab, they are typically told to prepare a 20 minute presentation of their previous/Ph.D. research. This is admittedly an odd amount of time to be given (god knows I was thrown for a loop when I interviewed), but you've still got to think about what would be the most effective use of your 20 minutes.

We had a great candidate come in the other day. She had done some very interesting grad research, and she possesses a unique set of skills that would make her an excellent addition to our research team. I don't doubt that she will get an offer.

...However... her "20 minute" research presentation made me want to jump out of the conference room window (and right into the bush just outside). What did she do wrong?

1. She spoke so quickly that I sometimes lost track of what she was saying. Also, she would have to gasp for air. Really, not a good sign.
2. Her 20 minute talk was really 30 minutes.
3. She presented every goddamn experiment that she has performed since escaping her mother's womb.
   

You see, it's #3 that really drives me wild. WHAT IS IT with interview candidates that makes them think that the best way to convince the audience that they are awesome, dedicated researchers is to detail every move they have made since entering grad school?

If you present excellent, cohesive science packaged in a nice storybook presentation, then I will go ahead and assume that there were many more experiments between the slides. Awesome Ph.D. research does not happen in five experiments, but as far as I'm concerned, you had better not show me more than five experiments in your twenty minute talk.

No, I do not need to hear about your troubleshooting. I do not need to hear about how your microscope facility lost it's best confocal and how it set you back and how you thought about it and now maybe you'll try xyz. That's great and all, you know, and it's totally normal, but it's not what you put in a motherfucking job talk.

Jeez, I don't know why I'm still all hot and bothered. I guess I just feel like people could do better for themselves.

Okay, so what do you put in your 20-minute job talk?

Pick your two or three favorite/most impressive topics. Arrange them in a way that tells a nice story (the chronological order is irrelevant). There is no need to harp on (or really discuss at all) the stuff that didn't work; emphasis your successes. Drive home one or two major points. 10-15 slides max. And for Christ's sake, allow yourself a little time to breathe.

Economic Status via Google Hits

It's interesting when you can evaluate the state of the economy through your Google search terms. This one had me laughing (primarily because my blog does not contain the answer):

"where is my fucking postdoc job"

I sense a lot of angst in this particular search term. And while I can find some humor in the situation since it's not my problem, I also sympathize with our angst-ridden friend. Joblessness is depressing.

Do you guys know of many grad students who are having a hard time finding postdoc positions in the current economic climate? I have to wonder how bad the situation is getting.

Satisfaction in Mentoring

My undergraduate intern, who I have been mentoring since last May, joined me in the lab this week for the first time in a couple of months. I love the camaraderie that develops once I have sunk large-ass chunks of time and effort into mentoring such students. Not all students stick around long enough for such nice things to happen.

This particular intern had a great interview with me last spring, but seemed completely bored with what we were doing as soon as I got him into the lab full-time over the summer. He almost never spoke, and I felt pretty pessimistic about my options for helping him to grow as a scientist.

Over time, I perfected the art of speaking to him as if he was a brick wall. I would ramble on about all of the great science we were doing, how I was really excited about the results, and that I thought he was a great lab worker. (He has great hands, he tends to make less mistakes than I do once he has a protocol down.) I figured that even if he wasn't responding to anything I was saying, he must at least hear me. So I did my best to be encouraging.

I was shocked when he told me that he wanted to continue working through the fall. I had guessed that he would run as soon as he had the chance, but all of my rambling about our great science and my appreciation for his efforts must have had some effect. He remained productive through January.

Last month, I kind of ran out of experiments for him that already had established protocols. We are now in a part of the project in which we are pushing into the unknown, and in the past, that has typically meant that I flounder in method development for the better part of three years. I don't think my intern wants to stay that long. So I told him to hold on until I had something established for him.

Well, the kid pestered me so much during February that finally I figured, well if he wants to see what real research is like, then he can struggle to establish his own protocol for Method B. I brought him in last week, laid it out for him, and told him that it would help to develop his skills as a scientist.

What do you know, the preliminary experiment that he performed this week seems to have worked on the first try. I have never had such luck. Further proof that I should be forced into an early retirement so I can ride horses and bake crepe cakes. Or maybe somehow I have gotten way more awesome at figuring out how to do preliminary experiments. Yeah, we'll go with that.

But anyway, it was just nice to have him back in the lab beside me. Someone who I've helped to develop, someone who might not be here if I hadn't done the right things with him. It's satisfying. And at least with this intern, there is never any pressure to come up with something to say, and I am simply left to enjoy the musical duet performed by our clickety-clicking pipets.

April Scientiae, Hosted by Yours Truly

I understand that some of you have been waiting years for me to serve as the host of the Scientiae carnival. Well, my sweet readers, your wait is over. Put yourselves at ease.

The call for posts is up at the Scientiae website. Basically, I am asking you to tell us about the most difficult challenge that you have ever overcome as a scientist. You know, the kind that makes your upper lip sweat (or maybe that's just me). The kind that keeps you up at night. The kind that you talk about at so many consecutive dinners that your partner wants to put you up for auction (my starting bid = $2.75).

Now here's the thing, dear readers. I know that some of you are regular posters to the carnival, and I totally expect you to throw something down for the occasion. But I would like to extend an extra special invitation to all of you who have never posted to the carnival. In particular, in an effort to reach across the aisle, I'd like to encourage my male readers to contribute a little something. Really, it wouldn't kill you.

Submission deadline is March 29th, people, and don't think I won't further harass you in the meantime.

Gender Discrimination: A Follow-Up

I wrote this post a while ago because I felt that there was a real hole in the story that was being told of women and sexism and science. I wrote the post from a hopeful perspective, with the intention of bringing to light my positive experiences as a woman in science.

Some of the comments invoked an eyebrow-raising response on my part. I had several women commenting that they, too, had encountered minimal gender discrimination but that they would be lambasted by other women if they ever spoke of their experiences. Average Professor tells us:

Sometimes I get a vibe (sometimes subtle and occasionally blatant) from other women who more strongly feel the gender-influence in their own careers that I am some kind of traitor, or that I am so blind and naive that my viewpoint is dangerous.

And yes, yes, this is the same vibe that I often feel floating around the blogosphere. And you know, I don’t really get into it because I certainly don’t need to feel bad about the fact that I don’t encounter discrimination. As many of you pointed out in the comments, there is a distinct difference between simply not having experienced misogyny and disbelieving women who are victims. Let’s be clear on the fact that I am not a person who engages in or condones the practice of discrediting women who have experienced discrimination. It’s not like I think you’re all making it up. I’m pretty sure that was clear in my original post.

And yet, a recent comment from Ms. PhD floated in, portions of which are contained below. She says:

I guess it's that those of us who have experienced it -repeatedly- feel like you're siding with the men who say we're imagining it.

Uh, nope. Not discrediting you. Just telling you that my experience has been different than yours. Having a different experience doesn’t mean that I have to be lumped in with the misogynists.

I think we need to feel heard.

At least in this community, you are heard. You are out there, all over the place. You encounter sexism, you struggle with it, you tell us about it in your own words, on your own terms, in poignant fashion. These are valuable stories that we need to know. But with all of the resounding pessimism, we also need to know the stories of people who are living free of the confines of their gender. We need to know that hope exists.

I also suspect that it IS going on all around you, and nobody talks to you about it because they know you won't understand.

Despite what you may assume, some women confide in me about their experiences regarding gender discrimination. Amazingly, I provide support! Can you imagine?! Someone like me who doesn’t experience discrimination helping someone who does. This attitude that a woman like me cannot possibly understand, frankly, sucks. Yet, YFS takes it a little futher:

I do worry that women like you aren't going to be helpful mentors to women like me.

Kind of a shitty thing to say, no? Just because I haven’t experienced discrimination means that I won’t be able to properly mentor women? I would have to politely disagree.

In fact, I would say that I’d make an excellent mentor for other women. Why? Because my gender has minimal effect on the way I handle my career. Isn’t that what we want? Isn’t that woman-in-science utopia?!? I serve as a very clear visual that it is possible for a woman to achieve a high level of scientific success, unfettered by the presence her breasts, her long hair, her occasional emotional outbursts, her tendency to bring baked goods to work, and her free-flowing discussions on her desire to have children.

I will also add that I love mentoring females. I prefer it, as do several of my female colleagues. We consider it a special opportunity to serve as a role model, for those young women to look at our careers as something that is achievable. Nothing would thrill me more than to have a more equitable distribution of gender in my field. My work and the work of other women like me as mentors will help to encourage this.

But thanks for your vote of confidence, just the same.

---

I am typically not one to respond to comments in this fashion. It’s just that I find this attitude to be a little too pervasive, held not only by YFS but by other female bloggers and commenters. And it bothers me. It is so dangerous for women like YFS to subscribe to these generalized prejudices, these assumptions that just because I am not like you, then I must be a part of the problem. Such is not the case for all women.

My point is simply this: Just the same way that you don’t want to feel invalidated, neither do I.

Heaven

No science today. Just enjoying my favorite place on earth.