The world of the scientists is such an unreal world.
I just realized how much of my mood is dependent on the outcome of an experiment.
I could have a wonderful day composed of good sleep, good food, good exercise and good conversations, and have that day totally trashed by the absence of a florescent red band on a gel smaller than my palm.
At that moment of the day, all of my self confidence and all the meaning of my existence were represented by the correct spacing of that little red band under uv light: if it wasn't there, why have I woken up that day at all?
I remembered what a fellow graduate student told me years ago about his definition:
"Seeing colonies on the plate, that is relief;
Seeing the right bands in a gel, that is happiness."
How, I wonder, do the other scientists manage not to be depressed all the time?
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