Author: Valerie

Sometimes, when reading a biology paper, I have to refrain myself from bursting out laughing. Biologists, and more specifically geneticist, come up with the most ridiculous names for genes. Not that I’m complaining, it brightens up even the most boring of papers (though sadly not all names are funny). Here’s a (very!) small selection as an example of biologists’ sense of humour:

• Really Interesting New Gene (RING)
  The lack of inspiration for naming this gene is in itself quite funny.
• Sonic Hedgehog
  This was the first funny one I’d come in contact with; at first I just thought I misunderstood the speaker. But it’s a real gene, that when mutated causes fly embryos to be covered with spike-like structures, and thus look like a hedgehog. It also gives the fly supersonic powers.
• Don Juan
  A gene present in sperm cells of male fruit flies. It makes them extremely sexy.
• Dissatisfaction
  A gene involved in many aspects of sexual behaviour, apparently not the very useful ones.
• I’m not dead yet (Indy)
  In reference to a scene in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, when mutated this gene causes an increase in the lifespan of fruit flies. The flies live forever unless swatted.
• Van Gogh
  In zebrafish, a mutation of Van Gogh results in tiny ears – wait, fish have ears? In fruit flies, a mutation of this gene causes the wings to develop a wing pattern that apparently looks like Starry Night.
• Tinman
  A mutation in Tinman in mouse embryo results in no heart and the desire to feel love.
• Casanova
  The result of this gene mutation in zebrafish is that they are born with two hearts, making it a incorrigible womanizer.
• Spock
  So zebrafish really do have ears, though with a mutation in the Spock gene they end up being pear-shaped. And possibly slightly pointy. It is unsure if the mutated fish are also confused by human emotions, though it is reasonable to believe that most fish probably are.
• Callipyge
  Sir Mix-a-lot would just love this one. A mutation in this gene results in sheep developing very large hind ends, or “beautiful buttocks” (callipyge in greek), and increased twerking abilities. You got buns, hun!
• Dracula
  When zebrafish with this mutation are exposed to light, the fish die due to their blood cells bursting (yuck). You probably can kill them by running a wooden stake (or toothpick) through their heart as well.
• Brainiac
  Fruit flies with this mutation have increased development of brain cells, causing them to realise that a closed window is not an exit.
• Cheap date
  Give a few drops of alcohol to flies with this mutation and they’ll appear drunk. I’m not sure how many drops it takes to get a wild type fly drunk, but apparently Cheap Date flies are more sensitive to alcohol. They’ll probably be okay with eating some cheap garbage left overs as well, further reducing costs of a date.
• Ken and Barbie
  Flies with this mutation lack external genitalia. They also have unreasonably small waists and plastic hair dos.
• Halloween Genes (including disembodied, spook, spookier, shadow, shade, shroud and phantom)
  Mutations in Halloween genes cause flies to grow scary, abnormal exoskeletons, giving them instant status as spiderman nemeses.

A few more honourable mentions: Armadillo, Bagpipe, Bag or marbles, Grunge and Teashirt (fly), Jelly Belly, Seven up, Snafu, Wishful Thinking, Slamdance, Slowpoke, Smaug, Stardust, Grim and Reaper, Shaven Baby, Kryptonite and Superman, and Swiss cheese. If I ever discover a gene (very slim chance), I will do my best to come up with something original, but with all that out there, it will be a challenge.
Extra note: Not only biologists have a sense of humour. There is a theory in physics called “The Hairy Ball Theorem”. Don’t worry, it’s about not being able to brush coconuts (What?). And I’m sure there are more examples out there.

I’ve mentioned a while ago that I’d write a post focussing on how to win a Nobel Prize. Recently, a 10 simple rules paper (something I mentioned in that same post) was published on that exact subject, reminding me that I should step on it and write already.
So, here we go, inspired by conversations with friends and that paper I just mentioned (1), some guidelines on how to win a Nobel Prize.

1. Eat chocolate and drink milk.
   It has been suggested a few years ago that the suspicious relation between the number of Nobel Prize winners in Switzerland might be related to chocolate consumption (2). Obviously, as a Belgian (though the chocolate consumption of Belgians seems to be suspiciously low) and chocolate fiend, I found this very interesting. A follow-up study suggested that the consumption of milk (3) might also play a role, something I don’t expect to be a problem either. In the end, both articles were more of an illustration of how correlation and causality can easily get mixed up in (amateur) statistics, rather than encouraging people to stock up on milk and coco. Eating habits aren’t very likely to increase your chances of winning a Nobel Prize, but one can hope that loving chocolate can’t hurt…

   

   

2. Choose your contacts wisely 
   Nowadays, most Nobel Prizes are won by a group of 3 people. Additionally, most science is done through collaborations nowadays. Different backgrounds, expertise, points of view and even different disciplines mixed together, provide for good science and innovative discoveries. So collaborate, but not with too many people. If you’re not yet in a position to collaborate (I assume that’s easier once you’re a principal investigator), choose your workplace wisely. Perhaps working in the same institution or even directly in the laboratory of a Nobel Prize laureate and gain from his or her experiences, will provide you with the inspiration to win your own Prize. For example, 9 staff members of the Medical Research Council (MRC) Laboratory in Cambridge have won Nobel Prizes. And if you can’t find such a position, another strategy is to pick your family wisely. Sometimes children of Nobel Prize winners go on to win the prize themselves, as has been shown already seven times. But since choosing what family you’re born into isn’t exactly practical, perhaps consider marrying a prospective Nobel Prize winner, as four married couples have won the prize, as was the case for the Nobel Prize in Physiology and Medicine last year (1).
3. Serendipity.
   A topic I have brought up before but sheer luck, or a certain degree of serendipity, seem to have an effect on your chances of winning a Nobel Prize. Andre Geim and colleagues were messing around with some scotch tape and that led to a Nobel Prize, and penicillin is a similar example. Sometimes things going wrong are not such a bad thing. Often great discoveries are made “by accident”. If your experiment doesn’t go as expected, perhaps it’s time to re-analyse: is it through faulty protocols or maybe because of wrong assumptions. Challenge everything you do, ask questions, and if something cool and unexpected happens, maybe this is something worth looking in to?
4. Life sciences are the bomb.
   The article (1) mentions that Biology is the field in if you’re aiming for a noble prize. There’s still so much to be discovered in biology, and it’s forever changing (evolution, my dear Watson). It often needs interdisciplinary approaches, making it easy to do collaborative research (see point 2). And there are two Nobel Prize categories you can aim for, so more chance!
5. Just have fun.
   But most importantly (and strongly emphasised in (1)), don’t aim for a Nobel Prize. Science shouldn’t be about winning prizes or aiming for fame. Science and research are about curiosity, wanting to know how the world works, finding solutions that can help humans and the earth, and most of all, about having fun. You should be in research because that is what you love. If you feel a great sense of accomplishment when you successfully finish an experiment or make a beautiful and informative microscopy image, if you squeal like a fan girl when you read about novel scientific breakthroughs, if you make plans with your friends to do “Friday afternoon experiments” (yes, that’s doing research just because you want to), then go into research. Perhaps you’ll win a Nobel Prize one day. Probably not. And who cares, you’re doing what you love.

Related to that, Switzerland is great. In the week I’m busy busy busy working, in the weekends I feel like I’m on holiday, riding on boats on Zürichsee and whatnot. In this country where people actually stop to let you cross the road or hold tram doors because they think you’re trying to catch it, I feel quite at home. Maybe it’s because of the wonderful weather and the delicious chocolate, but the first weeks have been great. I think I will enjoy my time here.

References and Inspirations:
(1) Roberts RJ (2015) Ten Simple Rules to Win a Nobel Prize. PLoS Comput Biol 11(4): e1004084. doi:10.1371/journal.pcbi.1004084
(2) Messerli FH (2012) Chocolate consumption, cognitive function, and Nobel Laureates. N Engl J Med 2012; 367:1562-1564. doi:10.1056/NEJMon1211064
(3) Linthwaite S, Fuller GN (2013) Milk, chocolate and Nobel prizes, Pract Neurol13:63. doi:10.1136/practneurol-2012-000471

Last weekend I moved to Basel for a two month impersonation of “guest researcher” in a nanobiology lab.
Before I even get to the point, I want to say that Basel is awesome. Except for the evening I arrived, the weather has been the perfect example of “Spring is in the air” and Basel’s traditional emblem and guardian creature is a Basilisk. First of all, this city has a guardian creature. Second of all, this creature appears in one of my favourite books (I was going to say in my favourite septology but I’m pretty sure that’s not a word, so I decided to refer to Newt Scamander’s Fantastic Beasts and where to find them instead). A quick look at the various statues scattered around the city – most of them spouting water – as well as the wikipedia page – I’m such a professional -, taught me that unlike my expectations of a giant snake living in sewage under girls bathrooms, a basilisk looks more like a dragon with a bird’s head. It does still have Medusa-like statue making abilities or killing-at-a-glance powers (depending on the source) and a weakness for weasels/Weasleys. Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure the emblem of Dundee involves dragons and that of Scotland in general has a unicorn. I sure know how to pick my magical creatures. (That of my home town is a boring old swan though…)
In any case, moving to a new lab, albeit for only two months, reminds me of one of the things I love about being in science (as far as I can call my current career “being in science”. A friend of mine basically covered this same topic in her blog recently and I’ll probably just plagiarise repeat some of what she said, but one of the things I love is moving around for conferences, lab visits or even just a new job (as I have for my PhD) to not only explore the world but also explore the minds of all the amazing people I encounter. I might be because I’m still quite young (no need to settle down yet), adventurous at heart (always moved around a bit) and get amazing opportunities (an international and interdisciplinary PhD), but I also believe that the future of science lies in international, collaborative and interdisciplinary research. Also, it’s surprisingly refreshing to pack all you basic needs in one suitcase and just step on a plane.
The thing is, I’ve heard disconcerting stories about research groups not willing to present unpublished work at conferences in fear their ideas will be stolen. Or people naming collaborators as reviewers when submitting papers, while steering clear of their competitors. Science seems to exist in an atmosphere of suspicion and nepotism (though I like the Dutch word vriendjespolitiek – literally friends politics – better) where results and ideas are only shared with collaborators but hidden from competitors.
Of course there’s merit in a bit of healthy competition, it drives people to be ambitious and bring out the best in themselves, but as it is becoming increasingly clear that science is no longer a one-man’s-job (though my friend that I mentioned earlier is well on her way of becoming a homo universalis), I am supporter of more collaborative and open science. I for one have had great ideas by conversing with other people, inside and outside my field of research (and so we bring in the aspect of interdisciplinary research as well). Bouncing ideas off each other, seeing different points of view and geeking out during lunch breaks brings out the best of us, or at least of me.
Well, in any case, I am glad to be here in Basel, these first few days have already been amazing and mind opening and I’m sure there are many more inspiring moments to come.
I’ll leave you with this quite funny looking basilisk. It doesn’t have any jet black scales or horcrux-destroying fangs, but I’d still not look in the eye…

Nerds have been making an uprise for quite some time now. Seth Cohen from The OC was maybe the first one, or was it Freaks and Geeks that started it all? But in times of The Big Bang Theory and hipsters copying the big glasses look, it no longer can be denied;

Nerds are cool.

Actually, I would like to rephrase that. Even though nowadays the term “nerd” or “geek” don’t have that much of a negative connotation anymore, and I acknowledge the awesomeness of Dr. Who, Harry Potter or Star Wars franchise, I would like to focus of a specific type of nerds. So lets say this:

Science is cool.

Admittedly, I may be prejudiced. But the popularity of science shows, ranging from sitcoms to panel shows and Facebook science feeds (such as ifls), only back up my claim. The internet is full of science nerds with artsy hobbies, trying to find an outlet for their nerdiness.

There’s someone who knits dissected animals, like this mouse from aKNITomy:
There’s someone who makes stuffed organs (iheartguts):

And yes, I chose these examples because they’re loosely related to my own research (and I not-so-secretly incorporate them into my presentations), but I just wanted to point out that the gap between the general public and the science community is decreasing. And therefore it becomes more and more important to provide channels for communicating science to the general public in a clear and correct manner.
But talking about hyped science journalism would just make me rant for another 1000 words at least, so I’ll leave that for later…

A few days ago we passed a poster on a door that said: “Remember why you became a scientist?” It was a poster promoting outreach activities, such as promoting STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering and Mathematics) in primary schools. However, it had a slightly different effect on us. A simultaneous groan was uttered. You must know that this happened in the middle of the week, a quite stressful week for most of us. I also had a hard time remembering. PhD’s tend to go in ups and downs, a fact that is sometimes cleverly used for a whole range of webcomics. And at that moment, even though I’m only 6 months – no wait, 7 months – into my PhD so I can hardly complain, it was a bit of a down. So running into a poster asking if I remember why I wanted to be a scientist caused me to slip into a tiny existential crisis.
Luckily it didn’t take to much remembering.
In the good old days of sending around questionnaires (“How well do you know me?“) by email, a friend filled in the following:

Q: What will I be when I grow up?
A: an inventor

It all fit. When we were kids, that friend and I had made plans to build a “test-car”, where we could interchange the engine to test different alternative fuels, not-so-loosely based on the grasmobile. It never got past the plans, but nevertheless, we had the ambition to better the world and help the environment. We wrote poems about time travel. My personal heroes were not movie stars or superheroes, but the quirky old professors in the comics I read, like Professor Barabas, Professor Gobelijn or even Professor Zonnebloem (Professor Calculus). All bonkers (especially the latter), but amazing geniuses. I played with a microscope, collecting leaves and dirt to look at. I had plans to solve global warming and cure cancer.

I became a bit more realistic when I got older, but still, I got into engineering and research. I still want to discover the world, make an impact and make the world an ever so slightly better place.

 

 Beside that, I simply like science. I find pleasure talking about it with friends, reading about new new findings, in short, simply geeking out. Science is awesome. We scientists just loose sight of that sometimes.
And if I have a hard time remembering, I have results to remind us. Even if things don’t turn out exactly the way I predicted or hoped, interesting thins happen: A 3D OCT* scan that looks like a galaxy;

or a result just simply asking me to be its valentine…

So there is still hope for me!

* Optical Coherence Tomography (OCT) uses the interference patterns of backscattered light to form an image, or in other words: as light travels through a sample, it is scattered back differentially by different objects in the samples. By looking at the light coming back and comparing it to your initial light beam, you can deduct structural information of your sample. The “stars” in the image, the bright dots, are hopefully spheroids of cells. The brightest spot in the middle is strong reflection from the liquid surface (because it’s not flat). Another way to think about OCT is “Ultrasound with light.”