Look, I'm not going to beat around the bush here, Sandy is a piece of shit. She killed dozens of people, submerged my former neighborhood in 4 ft of water, caused a friend of mine in the ICU to be evacuated down nine flights of stairs, flooded other friends' homes, destroyed a massive research animal colony, and in general has devastated a city that I love like no other.  My thoughts are with everyone up and down the East coast affected by the storm, and I hope that all of you and your loved ones are safe and dry.

If your charitable allotments for the foreseeable future are headed for the Red Cross, that's more than reasonable. However, if you have a little you could spare for some kids in Gulfport, Mississippi who want to learn about brains, I (and they) would be so grateful. As it happens, Gulfport itself is no stranger to hurricanes, having been ravaged by both Katrina and Isaac. Mrs. Hermetz's elementary school class needs $1101 so they can have a kick ass comparative neuroanatomy lesson with human and sheep brains! Neuroanatomy has always been one of my absolute favorite topics, and I would love for these kids to get to experience all the amazingness for themselves.

Now, here's the good news and the bad news, bad news first: this project only has 14 days left until it's taken down, which means we need to act fast, because $1101 is a lot of money. The good news is, DonorsChoose has just released a Match Code for all Science Bloggers' donors to use, which means that your money goes twice as far! The code is SCIENCE, and you'll enter it in the box that says "Match or Gift Code" when you go to check out, starting at 9am Nov 1.  And if you give to "Brainology" through my Giving Page, you'll also be entered in my cocktail video contest to win a cocktail of your very own!

With this Match Code, I seriously think we can do this, you guys! All hands on deck! Let's get these kids some BRAAIIINNNNZZZ!

The last four weeks were a whole new level of crazy.

The first two and a half were spent writing my first ever R01--by far the most challenging proposal-writing experience I've been through, and which drained every ounce of brain-juice from my being. How on earth do people do this more than once a year? I feel like I need to go surround myself with beautiful artwork or watch some international films or something to plump my neurons back up. In the end, though, I think it's pretty darn solid. Perhaps not one of the 5 or so upon which my study section will bestow a fundable priority score, but I'd dare say it's in good shape for a resubmission next year.

The middle 5 days were spent in glorious New Orleans for the SfN Annual Meeting, and I honestly think it was the best one I ever attended, from a personal standpoint. Which is to say that maybe for the first time, I really, truly, had the sense that this was MY world. It might have been the high from finishing the grant, combined with running into what seemed like everyone I've ever known in any professional capacity, but for a few blissful days the impostor syndrome kept at bay, and I felt incredibly lucky to be a part of something so amazing as this giant community of neuroscientists. And while I had every intention of eating nothing but lettuce and tofu in anticipation of my imminent wedding day, my intentions were no match for the temptations of NOLA cuisine. Oysters, crawfish, etouffée, bread pudding, pork belly, beignets, gumbo, shrimp, sausage...I ate it all, and I washed it down with about 3 dozen Sazeracs. Speaking of which, the BANTER party was an unquestionable success--we probably had around 150 people over the course of the night, all of whom were just lovely, not to mention impressively behaved despite open bar and free sausage sampler. Thanks for keeping it classy, guys!

Finally, the most recent 4 days were devoted to wedding-related activities! After months of planning and making a thousand tiny decisions, it all came together in what was without question the most beautiful night of my life. Special thanks to Dr 24Hours, who initiated the "doc_becca cake fund," and to all who donated. I'm totally humbled by all the internet love out there! Here's the gorgeous cake--lemon with buttercream frosting, and super delicious!

Now, if you REALLY want to give money to something worthwhile, I encourage you to donate to one of the very deserving projects in my Donors Choose Giving Page. Your donation will help needy kids learn about science, one  of the most worthy causes I can think of. And just as a little incentivization, your donation will also enter you in my Donors Choose cocktail video contest, in which I'll create a drink inspired by you, and shoot a video of myself making it. Kids win, you win, everybody wins!

Every October, science bloggers across the 'sphere band together to support DonorsChoose.org, an organization that helps fund struggling K-12 classrooms by channeling donations straight to the project of your choice! Hence the name, you see! To make it interesting, science blog collectives like Scientopia, Discover Blogs, LabSpaces, and FreeThought Blogs engage in a little friendly competition to see who has the most awesome readers/donators.

To help tilt the scales in Scientopia's favor, I've decided to bring back the now annual cocktail video contest, in which one lucky donor gets a cocktail created in his or her likeness, and I'll post a video of myself making it! Who doesn't want that, really? In order to be eligible, you must donate to a project through Dr Becca's Giving Page. I've picked a few projects that I found particularly heartbreaking and/or inspiring, but you can donate to any project you like through my page! Such is the beauty of DonorsChoose. Some of these projects expire soon, so do not procrastinate! However small, any donation helps.

Many thanks in advance!

Neuroscience is so soon,  you guys!! I am so excited I could just explode, but I shall not, because that would be gross. Last year I wrote this handy guide for SfN n00bs, and inspired by Neuropolarbear and Scicurious's recent posts, I decided to dust it off for the benefit and enjoyment of my neuro-inclined readers.

The Society for Neuroscience meeting is huge. I mean, seriously gargantuan. The number of scientists that will descend upon New Orleans this weekend is over twice that of the population of the town I grew up in, and while it's not for everybody, I love it. I love SfN. I haven't missed a single one since my very first year of grad school, and oh, the stories I could tell!

For some of you, though, I imagine this is your first time, and you may be feeling a teensy overwhelmed, wondering how on earth you can possibly manage ALL THAT SCIENCE! Well, here's a newsflash--you can't, and you shouldn't try. Below is a list of things to help you work your way through the madness without losing your mind and/or will to live.

1. Don't panic. About anything. Pretty much nothing at SfN is worth getting upset about, especially whether or not you get to see every last item on your itinerary. You're simply not going to, so best to accept that fact now. The abstract planner is available long after the meeting, so if you miss something, you'll always be able to contact the authors and ask them questions afterwards. It will probably make them so happy!

2. Don't overplan. Plan a little, but don't plan every second of the day, and don't think you're going to spend 3-4 hrs a day on the poster floor, because you will collapse from exhaustion. What I like to do is scan the daily books (now conveniently available in e-reader form) for sessions that encompass general areas that spark my interest, then stroll that part of the poster floor. Don't worry about the 1-hr time slot that the books list--many presenters stay at their poster the whole 4 hrs. This year, there's a cool new app for smart phone users called Hubbian, which allows you not just to plan your top must-sees, but also to rate abstracts and see what all the hot posters are.

3. Go to the big lectures. Especially for the n00bs, you can get a very nice sense of recent neuroscience history from hearing some of the fancy people talk. What is considered a Big Deal these days? Now you know, and if you absolutely hate it, you can always leave. The lecture halls are enormous, and people are constantly filing in and out. Nobody will look at you funny or think poorly of you.

4. Go out to lunch. I am so serious, get out there and get some fresh air! We're very lucky because the NOLA  convention center is actually in a part of the city with stuff around it (looking at you, Chicago), so you can easily take 45 min and go have a nice po boy or something. Convention center food is notoriously bad and overpriced, and I guarantee you'll be happy to have had the break.

5. Comfortable shoes. You are going to be on your feet like you've never been on your feet before, and they (and your back) are going to be killing you. I figure I walk at least a few miles a day inside the convention center alone, let alone going between the CC and my hotel. This is not the time for your fancy dress shoes, OK?

6. Dress in layers. Convention centers are usually cold, especially on the poster floor, but you never know--sometimes the smaller symposia rooms can get warm, especially after a few hours at capacity.  I always carry a scarf and cardigan or hoodie with me, so that I can adjust accordingly.

7. Take a half day for sightseeing, and/or sleeping in. I swear to FSM, the earth will not explode nor will your career be ruined if one afternoon you decide you'd like to take a Garden District tour instead of the conference. You'll feel so refreshed and ready to see more science when you're through!

8. Try to keep your notes organized. It happens. You're at a poster, and all of a sudden you want to write something down or get somebody's email address. You scrounge around in your bag for something, anything to write on, and come up with nothing but your Starbucks receipt. I can't tell you how many times I've gotten home from SfN and found a mess of notes on all kinds of things, and it's all mostly useless. Either bring your own notebook or make a beeline for the Sigma booth, because they usually give out pretty solid notebooks if you fill out a quick survey.

9. Snacks. So you don't end up spending $4 on a yogurt or eating one of those god-awful pretzels, find yourself a 7-11 and buy a box of granola bars. Then, whenever hunger starts to strike but you're not quite ready to vacate the premises, you've got a little something to tide you over!

10. Shmooze. Do not be afraid, padwan, your job is to make friends and impress people. Ask questions at posters and talks, go find your NIH PO, and come to the BANTER party! On that note, if you are a non-tweeting person and are planning to attend, could you do me a quick favor and announce your intentions in the comments? I'm just trying to get a ballpark figure for the bar. Many thanks!

Most of all, HAVE FUN. SfN is not only for you to present your work and find things relevant to your research, but also time away from the lab for you to think about the rest of this crazy, vast, neurosciencey world we live in. Enjoy it!

Over at Pondering Blather, the inimitable Odyssey shares his Five Stages of Grantwriting, an apt twist on the old Five Stages of Grief story. It hit quite close to home, as I'm now feverishly trying to bang out my BRAINS proposal, but also because I feel as if I have my own similar, but slightly different five stages.

1. Confidence: Just drafted the Aims page! Ideas are all there, man, now I just gotta fill in the deets. I SO got this.

2. Distraction: SOMANYTHINGSONTHEINTERNETTTTTT

3. Incentives: This piece of chocolate will help me focus and be productive. Hmm, that was a little sweet, though, so let's have something salty to balance things out, like goldfish crackers! OK, but now I'm thirsty--I'll just quickly run out to the campus food court for a Diet Coke. But what if it's not quite enough caffeine? Better head out in an hour or so for a coffee, JUST TO BE SAFE.

4. Despair: How did anyone ever write a grant in the history of the world? It is literally impossible to do.

5. Zen: What's this? Words on a page! Finally, in the zone. I am one with my Significance, Innovation, and Approach. There is no spoon.

I'm sure many of you have heard the fascinating but possibly dubious claim that  after a woman gives birth, her brain undergoes an evolutionarily advantageous set of changes that cause her to forget the excruciating pain of labor, lest she be deterred from future attempts at reproduction. Not having given birth myself, I cannot speak from experience with regards to the validity of  such a phenomenon. But I've been wondering recently if there genuinely isn't a similar thing going on after a person writes a grant.

The outpouring of encouragement after my last post motivated me to take another crack at the BRAINS RFA, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't struggling. I have the Aims written, and I know all the important points I want to make, sort of, but I'm having trouble getting words on paper. Like, it's in my brain, but my brain can't organize itself to form coherent thoughts.

So I look at my R21 for inspiration, and not to brag or anything, but that is a well-written grant. It's like this beautiful story about everything that's wrong with my field, and how my project will come along and fix all the things, and all my arguments are written with such conviction, you know? And I try to remember what it was like writing that grant--did the genius just flow through my fingertips and into my MacBook? Or was it a struggle like the current one is, full of much ceiling-staring, junk food eating, and typing-then-deleting, ad nauseum? 

And the truth is, I can't remember. When I think about it, I don't recall feeling nearly as frustrated and hopeless as I do now. Maybe that's because it was a simpler grant, or because I wasn't also running a lab and teaching and planning a wedding at the same time. Maybe I've lost my mojo. Or maybe I did struggle just as much--but then, sometime over the summer, grant-induced amnesia set in, preventing me from accurately recalling what an absolute fucking ordeal putting a grant together is.

With looming October and November NIH deadlines, I know a lot of you are also in the thick of it--feel free to use the comments space to vent, share tips for staying calm, Adderall sources (jk Drugmonkey!), etc. Hang in there!

The second year is nothing like the first year. The first year you have this giant wad of cash and an empty lab, so what can you do but throw a lot of money around and fill that empty lab up with people, shiny equipment, and consumables? It must be done, and, let's be honest--it's really fun. Money is no object! Sometime over the spring and summer, though, the lab hits its stride a bit, and by Labor Day it's pretty clear what it actually costs to run your lab month-to-month. And HOLY SHIT STUFF IS EXPENSIVE. So you start freaking out that your startup's going to run out, and that you'll have to spend your summer salary to pay for antibodies and microscope slides, and queue up a number of grants in your to-do list.

I'm not yet at the point where I'm making my lab peeps recycle pipette tips, but I am thinking very seriously about my grant plan for the next couple of years. Getting the R21 right off the bat was nice, but it feels like those 2 years are flying by already, and I need to make sure there's a cushion waiting when we fly out the other end of it. Last week I submitted a proposal for a $300k foundation grant, and I had hoped to submit an R01 for October as well. However.

Do you remember back in the days of the long-form NIH grants, when the most exciting adjective you officially needed to be able to attach to your ideas was "Significant?" As in, Background and Significance? This work addresses a significant problem, ergo is worth funding. Then, when the format changed a few years back, we had to make our ideas "Innovative" as well. We were not only contributing to a significant problem, but we were doing it in the most clever and creative way. Now, it appears that Innovative is not enough. According to some conversations I've had with some official higher-ups about this RFA I was thinking about, the work can't simply be significant and innovative (as they agreed my idea was); it must be transformative.

Is it a failure of my training, my aptitude, my imagination, if I have no idea what a "transformative" project in my sub-sub field would look like? I hope not, because I'm pretty much at a loss, here. Now, there's nothing technically preventing me from submitting to this RFA anyway, but the question I've been grappling with today has been whether it's worth what it will take to get it out--putting it together to submit in 3-4 weeks, while at the same time teaching, preparing for SfN, and finalizing wedding stuff--when I've basically already been told there's no chance.

I know, I know. The only way to ensure you don't get a grant is not to apply. But with R01s, there's always next cycle. So the question is, can this one wait until February? And in fact, would it be better to wait until February anyway?

My (admittedly somewhat wishful) thinking is this: official word is that this RFA (which is exclusively for ESIs) has generated an unusually high amount of interest. Paylines are likely to be well under 10%. Between those odds and the suggestion that my project would fare better in a traditional R01 study section (not to mention my stress levels), I've pretty much talked myself out of submitting this round. My hope is that most other neuro ESIs will blow their wad on this RFA, and because study section meets in February, not submit another R01 until they get their summary statement from this so they can flip it back around to a standard A0, which would be June. I swoop in with my A0 in Feb, after having 4 months or so to lay the groundwork, get a few more feasibility figures, and  make it really, really tight. And perhaps there would be fewer ESI proposals in my group, giving me a particularly strong edge. Could it be advantageous to step out of sync with my peers? OK, I may be getting ahead of myself, here. But if it doesn't get funded, I should have my summary statement back in time to resubmit for July, and then I'm only a month behind where I'd realistically be if I'd submitted to the RFA.

To me, this seems like a potentially more successful and certainly less ulcer-inducing approach to my long-term grant plan. The funding climate is horrid, and I imagine there's a part of every scientist out there that sees each skipped deadline as a missed opportunity. But I'm not sure if applying to anything and everything is the best strategy for me. I'm not in a position where a 3-year bye on teaching and service was an option, so I have to budget my time a little more carefully, choose my funding opportunities based on more than just a shotgun approach.

Much of this job so far has been me following my instincts. Without question, I could put my nose to the grindstone and get this grant out for Oct 23, and it would probably be solid, if not transformative.  Or, I could wait four months, and use that time to write a better-than-solid grant, help my lab get some more techniques up and running, and get married without collapsing on the altar from exhaustion and stress. Though in an abstract sense I hate the idea of giving up on this RFA, in a real life sense I think my instincts are guiding me straight this time.

Today marks the official 1-year point since I started my faculty position here at NJU. And what a year it's been! Taking a page from the Neuropolarbear handbook, here are some musings on the first 12 months.

• Unlike NPB, I do use my office landline phone. It's an easy way to know that whoever's calling has nothing interesting to say.
• I will think VERY carefully before agreeing to create a lecture course from scratch again.
• The first time an undergrad calls you "professor" is pretty much one of the best things ever.
• You can make yourself look way more dressed up than you actually are by wearing a necklace, I am so serious. I never used to be much of a jewelry person at all, but on an impulse bought some cheap dangly thing at Ann Taylor Loft (or we are just calling it "Loft" these days, I guess?), and I love it. Between that and this other necklace my future mother in-law got me for Christmas at TJMaxx, I feel so grown up! If you get a long one, you can wear it either long or doubled up, and it's like having twice as many necklaces! Anyway, that is my fashion tip for you.
• It is amazing to me the ease and transparency with which some undergrads will try to bullshit you.
• Alternately, there are some undergrads whose wisdom and maturity are equally amazing, and I find myself thinking, I didn't have my shit half as together as this person when I was 28, let alone 21.
• I don't know why, but I continue to be surprised by the fact that I can ask for something and get it, even stupid stuff. My desk is L-shaped, with one side of the L about twice as wide as the other, the intent being that you sit facing the wider side. Nearly a year ago, the contractor was finishing its assembly, and he put the pencil drawer on the wide side, where it normally goes (in front of the desk user). But I could tell that it was going to be hanging too low and would hit my legs, so I had two choices. Suffer thigh bruises for the next 5+ years, or see if something could be done. So I said, "is there any way to move that drawer to the other (non-sitting) side of the desk?" and it turned out there was, and he did! Big teaching moment, there, and I'm only being slightly hyperbolic. Since then, I've also asked for and gotten: 1) an extra room for behavior testing; 2) a new, better, custom-designed microscope room; 3) an extension on the time limits of my startup. There can be a feeling when you first arrive, like,  I just got this gigantic pile of money and space, wouldn't it be greedy to ask for more things? But the reality is that there may be things that you can justify, and that wouldn't actually be all that hard for people to do for you. As they say with jobs, grants, etc, the only way to be sure you won't get it is not to apply/ask.
• Running journal club with my small lab is one of the absolute most fun and rewarding things about this job.
• I still kind of feel like I'm making things up as I'm going along. I've had both good and bad instincts, but so far only one thing has caught fire, so I consider that an overall success.

For those of you who are old far enough along in your career to remember the halcyon days when New Orleans was a regular in the SfN location rotation, I'm willing to bet you're as crazy over the moon as I am that it's finally, finally, back. Beignets! Hurricanes! Po' Boys! Pralines! I can feel myself gaining many pounds just sitting here thinking about all the amazing things I want to eat over the span of the meeting. As it turns out, I unknowingly scheduled my wedding for the weekend immediately following, so I'll have to watch it with the etoufée. But nothing on earth could keep me from planning a fabulous tweetup for SfN's social media-savvy set (that's you!)

Now in its third year, BANTER is a casual get-together that lets you interact IRL with all the hilarious people you've been chatting with all year OTI. This year, we're very lucky to be sponsored by Frontiers, which means it's quite likely you won't have to pay for anything (except tips! Anyone caught not tipping their bartenders has to wear a big D-for-douchebag scarlet letter on their shirt). Additionally, I am joined in hosting this awesome event by the equally awesome Neuropolarbear! We shouldn't be too hard to spot when you arrive, as we'll probably be the two tallest people there.

All the deets are in this terribly professional-looking flyer thingie I made last night. Evangeline is super close to the convention center, and has a sweet courtyard so we can mingle al fresco. And naturally, I'll be tweeting up a storm as things get closer.

As they say in the Big Easy, laissez les BANTER rouler! 

This is a story of pain. Back pain. And this is also the story of one brave, determined, and resourceful scientist's quest to alleviate that pain.

One of the many, many things that change when you move from being a post-doc to a TT professor is that you spend WAY more time sitting at your desk. No more running back and forth to the animal facility, standing at the bench pipetting, or pacing around the dark room waiting for westerns to develop. No. You write. You just write and write and write--emails, grants, pre-proposals...it's endless, and let me tell you, it is hell on your lumbar area.

Lately, I've found myself thinking is that all I'd really like to be able to do sometimes is stand up for a few minutes and keep working. What I needed was a standing level screen that mirrored my desktop so I could just stand up and sit down as I pleased. I had a vision, and I set out to make that vision a reality. Here's how!

Here's what my office looked like before. It's pretty small, so building a wholly separate standing desk wasn't really an option. And yes, I need more books or something.

What I wanted was a way to have the standing element to my right, on the small side of the L desk. Because my iMac's keyboard and mouse are both bluetooth, it would be easy just to move them when I wanted to work standing up. I looked for some sort of riser for them, and settled on the Billy height extension from IKEA. Now, this is going to be something that varies person-to-person. I'm pretty tall (5'10"), so I needed a decent lift. Before buying something similar, have someone help you measure the distance from where your hands comfortably rest in typing position (while you're standing) to the top of the desk.

It's been a while since I put together a new IKEA product, but the joys of the experience came back quite swiftly.

When it was finished, I flipped it down, so that the back was the top. This gave me the widest possible surface for mouse movement, plus since it's an extension and has no bottom, the back is now open for stashing stuff when I need to tidy up quickly. However, there was just one little problem.

Fucking IKEA and their insistance on not painting all sides of their furniture! I thought it looked a little silly with those two unfinished ends, so I got to work with a brown dry erase marker.

Next up--a kick ass display! The new Apple Thunderbolt Display was not the most thrifty of purchases, and you could certainly get a PC screen and be totally fine. But I am nothing if not cripplingly enslaved to good design/shiny things, plus I have a little money to burn right now, so I splurged.

Now, the new Apple Thunderbolt Display is totally fucking gorgeous, but it is also totally fucking not ready to be released yet because nobody makes anything to help you connect it to stuff. It comes with a ~2ft Thunderbolt cord attached to it which is great if you want to set the display up with your laptop, like, right in front of it, but is useless for setting up a display at any distance beyond that. I tried a couple of 3rd party extensions, but those were MiniDisplay Port, not Thunderbolt, and even though the physical port is the same, the display refused to work. It wants REAL Thunderbolt, or nothing at all! Apple doesn't yet make a male/female Thunderbolt extension, so I had to settle for a male/male 6' Thunderbolt cable, and connect the display to my iMac that way, port to port. Slightly annoying because I lose the 2' extra cable length from the built-in cable, but it just reached.

And voilá! I'm all set up. In fact, I'm standing RIGHT NOW as I type this. My back is so happy.