Tuesday 26 May 2009

Organic Chemistry as Magical Realism

Science will soon be experiencing a revolution. No more meticulous documenting of results, endless measurements, risky field sampling, accurate laboratory techniques, laborious charts, graphs, instrumentation calibration, blah, blah, blah. No more detailed analyses, background reading, thorough and impartial discussions of possible explanations. No more theories; theories are for wimps. It’s time for a change. It’s time for Fluffy Science.

Throw away those pesky microscopes, that annoying mass spectrometer (especially the dodgy one at my workplace), bury the Large Hadron Collider. A Fluffy Scientist doesn’t need such props. A Fluffy Scientist needs only the ability to sleep (perchance to dream), a crystal ball (although a mirrorball is equally – if not more – effective), a stash of high GI food, a woolly jumper, a four-legged companion and David Bowie’s album “Low” playing on constant repeat. Herein lies complete understanding and knowledge of the mysteries of Life, the Universe, Everything, and probably, some Other Stuff.

And, to herald in this wondrous evolution of Science (Darwin himself was not adverse to the occasional mirrorball gazing), I have started the much anticipated re-writing of my honours thesis in the style of magical realism.

So far:

original text:

“1-Methyl-3-dicyanomethyleneoxindole was obtained as a red-brown solid in low yield (28%) by treating N-methyl isatin with malononitrile in the presence of aluminium oxide, over a prolonged reaction time (72 hrs). The infrared spectrum of the product showed a weak nitrile absorbance at 2230 cm-1 and a medium lactam absorbance at 1723 cm-1, the carbon-13 nuclear magnetic resonance spectrum showed two nitrile resonances at 110.49 ppm and 112.23 ppm, as well as a carbonyl resonance at 162.38 ppm.”

magical realism text:

“The fumehood was thick with serendipity on the day the prophesied oxindole, known as 1-methyl-3-dicyanomethylene, floated into the laboratory in an ochre coloured corporeal guise. Three days had passed since the malononitrile, in an act of manic metaphysical subversion, and under the catalytic gaze of aluminium oxide, had mingled with the isatin (from the house of N-methyl). This mingling had partially (28%) transformed the unyielding isatin into the miraculous oxindole. There was much speculation amongst the alchemists as to whether or not the oxindole was real. Proof of the oxindole's existence was necessary, and was provided using spectroscopic instruments of the devil. The torture undergone by the oxindole, in the name of alchemy, was horrific. It was crushed, dissolved, subjected to infrared light and to strong magnetic fields. The oxindole, showing further evidence of its supernatural existence, withstood this treatment to produce a weak nitrile absorbance at 2230 cm-1, a medium lactam absorbance at 1723 cm-1 and two nitrile resonances at 110.49 ppm and 112.23 ppm, as well as a carbonyl resonance at 162.38 ppm.”

Saturday 23 May 2009

Brainwaves

This blogging/internet thing is fantastic, especially for someone who lives alone (or who lives with a cat who doesn’t listen), and thus has no release from the suffering weight of her extraneous thoughts. I can remove these thoughts from my brain and transfer them to the internet. I wonder if this is therapeutic for them. They are free to roam, through the copper wires and fibre optics, and maybe, hopefully, out into space. Perhaps they will find serenity in the void (either the peaceful state of mind or the fictional spaceship invented by the brilliant Joss Whedon).

Monday 18 May 2009

Hermit

I’ve been hibernating inside my cave, with its eroded walls of brick and crevices of misty glass. And the strange furry creature I keep as my companion. And my introvert entity.

My introvert entity lingers just below my thoughts. Over the years it has surfaced, for short durations, at my instigation, and it was always welcomed. But for some years now it’s been my master. It is peaceful while I remain in my cave. But if I venture out it grows uneasy. If I go too far it becomes distressed. It shirks open spaces and crowded lanes. It yearns for protection of familiar objects. It is comforted by the non-sentient interaction of electronic equipment.

But I’ve been becoming restless, feeling confined. I’ve been pacing through my cave. I’ve knocked my head against lengthening stalactites, not realising how they’d grown. I’ve stomped through human dust (and animal fur), until I can no longer be inside. I need to be…

Outside. So I went outside. I travelled vast distances across unfamiliar plains. My introvert entity howled with pain and rage. But I paid it no heed. I blocked my ears and let it scream, until it fell limp with exhaustion. Then I wandered with unhinged freedom. People stared, I didn’t care.

But I couldn’t wander for too long. My introvert entity was only sleeping. Eventually it would wake. So I went back into my cave, tired but peaceful. My sleep was deep and full of restful dreams.

*

Introvert: Psychology; a person predominantly concerned with his or her own thoughts and feelings rather than with external things.

Hmmm. I find this definition somewhat black and white. You’re either examining yourself OR you’re examining everything other than yourself. It’s possible you could be examining your internal reaction to an external stimulus – which I imagine is a fairly common everyday experience for those born as humans. In fact, I think there isn’t currently enough of this. There’s a bit too much REACTING and not enough THINKING before reacting. Plus, I don’t like the implication of this definition that extroversion is better than introversion.

Then there’s gregarious (social – fond of company) or non-gregarious (anti-social – 1. contrary or harmful to the social order 2. not sociable). Hey, I’m fond of company, company I like that is – company I don’t like, well, lets just say definition 1 has some interesting connotations.

*

At the supermarket today the beautifully camp song "Lady in Red" by Chris de Burgh was playing (although it isn't in the camp league of "I've never been to me" by Charlene#). I was waiting for people to spontaneously start dancing in the aisles, and maybe even fall in love.


# I couldn't find the original video clip and the other versions didn't have the creepy talking in the middle of the song - which is possibly the best bit.

Friday 8 May 2009

Tattoo or not Tattoo

I’m trying to think of inventive ways to spend my economic stimulus package. Just before I turned 30 I had decided to get my left ankle tattooed to mark the event (a black cat with a green ‘13’ on it’s collar). Shortly after making this decision, but before I got the tattoo, I badly sprained my left ankle playing netball. I took this as an omen that I shouldn’t get my ankle tattooed (I didn’t consider relocating it to a different part of my body, maybe somewhere less visible). So I remain tattoo-less.

But now I’m thinking about it again. I don’t know how much it costs but I’ve still got $860 left to spend, and unless I’m getting a full body tattoo, I think it’ll cover the cost. I’m wondering where on my body it should go – probably either my ankle (unless I sprain my ankle again) or the middle of my forehead (I don’t think it’s possible to sprain this). Or possibly the adipose-rich area just below my navel (I like to think of it as been analogous to a camel’s hump). Apparently, it’s less painful to be tattooed on a more fleshy part of the body. Plus it’s not overly visible, unless I’ve had too much whiskey or forgotten to button my pants, or both.

However, if I get a tattoo I won’t be able to donate blood for a while (or ever if I contract hepatitis). I haven’t donated my blood for a few years (to the Bloodblank that is – I’m still making midnight offerings to the Dark Lord). The last few years I’ve felt as though I needed all my blood, mentally and physically. But I’m feeling pretty well at the moment. And I’m quite comfy giving blood (which not everyone is, and not everyone can give blood), and they give you a milkshake and cake afterwards. Party! It’s a contribution I can make to society, whereas there are other things I’m not comfy doing (for society).

So I’m still not sure about a tattoo. I might have to find something else to spend my stimulus package on. Of course, I could give it to someone less well off than myself (and they could get a tattoo – or something boring, like food or warm clothes for winter).


Some relevant pictures:

A camel (with hump):


The Dark Lord (and a possible tattoo design):

Sunday 3 May 2009

Karamazov Count: Page 100

Yee-Hah!

I am Genius.

This is cause for celebration. There will be much drinking of Vodka and eating of Khalva. (Actually, there will be much drinking of Irish Whiskey, 'cos that's what's in my booze cupboard - which also functions as my cat-food cupboard - and eating of chocolate wheatens, 'cos I really like chocolate wheatens). I think I have eaten Khalva, or a version of it, but it was pronounced "Halva" and it was provided by an ex-housemate who is of Israeli-Jewish heritage. It was very tasty but very rich, not something I could binge-eat in celebration.

In honour of page 100 of Karamazov, here is a quote from said page, one which encompasses the themes of alcohol, the struggle of workers and the greediness of those with power:

"Look at all the bottles the fathers have set up...And who has supplied all this? The Russian muzhik*, the toiler, with his calloused hands, brings hither his earned groat**, snatching it from the bosom of his family and the state's requirements! Why holy fathers - you leech upon the common folk!" (The Brothers Karamazov, pg 100)

*muzhik: Russian peasant
**groat: a silver coin

And speaking of groat, I finally received my 'economic stimulus package' (or cheque, as would be more accurate) this week. It seemed to take awhile getting here. So I've bought...uh...Irish Whiskey (well I was running low and I knew page 100 was coming up). But whiskey is also good for combating winter illness (it's just the thing for that swine-ish flu). When I was little Mum gave us a whiskey based home-made medicine: a mixture of honey, lemon juice and whiskey, one teaspoon as needed. Now that I'm a responsible adult I make my own medicine: honey, lemon juice and whiskey, but without the honey or lemon juice, straight from the bottle, as often as possible***.

Economic Stimulus Package Tally:
1 bottle Jameson Irish Whiskey $39.99
(only $860 more to spend)


***Lush: Nicole