Wave (a new poem)

In the autumn of her twenty-seventh year

Life took another road

As she remembers it

The darkness of discovery, the shock

The sheer affront of upset

Cast into an arena

From which she would emerge

Years later

Stronger, wiser

But not without those intervening times

That tossed her unprepared

Into a sea of angst

The need to change, how hard

To meet the onslaught of the waves

That threatened drowning at every turn

Labored breathing

Struggling to swim, not knowing how

Alone at sea

Sometimes in dreams

The waves were huge, tsunami-like

Rolling in over sea and land 

Nowhere to run

No land high enough to scramble to

Flooded, smacked flat

Watching from a distance

As the gray wild water roiled

Spitting, angry

Waiting for the wall of water

To roll over all in its path

Alone on land 

-------------------------------------------------

Copyright 2014

Paula M. De Angelis

Four songs by Deep Forest

This is a Deep Forest kind of day for me--I wanted to hear these songs again and to share them with you. They made such an unforgettable impression on me when I first heard them in the 1990s--reaching inside me to grab my heart. Enjoy........


Forest Hymn





The Sound of Africa





Sweet Lullaby





Night Bird

September update

For those of you who may be reading my blog for the first time, I sometimes use my blog to promote the books I've written. I haven't done that in a while, so today's post will be one of those times. I'm the author of two books of poetry and two books about modern workplaces. You'll find all my books here on my Amazon author page: http://www.amazon.com/PhD-Paula-M.-De-Angelis/e/B002BM8OLW

Thank you for your support and encouragement.

Twenty-seven years ago (a new poem)

Twenty-seven years ago

Wednesday early August

Left New York City for London

British Caledonian night flight

An airline that exists no longer

Her first trip abroad

Landed early morning Thursday

Her hotel on Charlwood Street

1850s building

Charming bed and breakfast

Recommended by student travel guide

Attic room with shower down the hallway

Almost Dickensian

Sunlit dining room on first floor

Her first English breakfast

Served by owners, Italian couple

Pork sausage, collar bacon, tomato, fried egg, toast, and marmalade

Had waited years for that

Anglophile parents leave their mark

English afternoon tea was yet to come

Plans to sightsee London

Friday morning bus tour atop a double-decker

Open upper deck, blue skies and puffy clouds

It mostly rains in Britain she was told

Not so when she was there

Big Ben, Parliament, Westminster Abbey

Tower of London, Tower Bridge, Buckingham Palace

Trafalgar Square and Piccadilly Circus

Then she commenced her walking tour

Through Hyde Park to Oxford Street

And then to Piccadilly Circus, Leicester Square

Fed the pigeons at Trafalgar Square

Like so many other tourists

Heart-touched by that experience

Visited St. Martin in the Field Church

Near Trafalgar Square

With its bookstore in the crypt

And walked to Charing Cross Road

To see for real what she had only pictured

Since seeing 84 Charing Cross Road

With Anne Bancroft and Anthony Hopkins

Down to the Thames River

To Cleopatra’s Needle

Found her way to Strand Street

St. Mary Le Strand Church

Met Kirsten the proprietor, lovely chat, lovely woman

Onward to Covent Garden to see the shops and bookstores

Then Parliament and Big Ben

Westminster Abbey--strange feeling standing on the graves

Of monks who suffered the Black Death

Lunch on the grass in St. James Park

Tomato, cucumber and cheese sandwich on Italian bread

Evening descended, daylight remained

Odeon Cinema in Leicester Square

Timothy Dalton’s Bond--The Living Daylights

Took a London-style black taxi back to Charlwood Street

A tourist in Britain

Early Saturday meet-up at Grosvenor Hotel

Bus tour 20 to Stonehenge, Salisbury and Bath

Twenty-three pounds took her to Salisbury Cathedral

Then on to Stonehenge in Wiltshire

Disappointed—small, too many tourists

Wanted vastness, overwhelming, otherworldly

Last stop Bath in southwest England

Hanging flower arrangements, beautiful

Ancient Roman Baths, ancient history

Thousands of years ago

Ate lunch in nearby restaurant

Lamb, potatoes, carrots and mint sauce, rice pudding for dessert

Back in London late

Took care of hotel reception, answered phones

For owners while they went out

Mutual trust felt safe

They looked out for her

Sunday morning train to Cambridge

From Liverpool Street Station

On her way to Cambridge University

Science conference with colleagues

Lovely ride through English countryside

Met Wynn from London, so kind

Her daughter and granddaughter in Cambridge

They drove her to the university

Lovely people in Britain, her father was right

He spent three wartime years in England

Conference registration at Corn Exchange

Large hall fit for meetings and concerts

Imagined farmers selling corn there

Dormitory room in Wolfson Building, monastic

Bed, desk, chair—little more than that

But more than enough for her

Meals in Trinity College dining hall

Sat at long wooden tables reminding of Oliver Twist

And later Harry Potter

Under the watchful gaze of Henry VIII

Beef in burgundy sauce, excellent wine

Post-dinner visit to Trinity College Pub with colleagues

No problem sleeping afterward

Five-day conference, a setting

No one could forget, ever

Home to brilliance in so many fields

Watson and Crick, Darwin, Hawking, Newton

Among the scientific luminaries

Mind-expanding atmosphere

Morning and evening talks, afternoons free

Pub life after hours, some great dinners and social life

Punting on the river Cam with colleagues

Climbing over a hundred steps in St. Mary’s Church bell tower

To see the city—breathtaking

Walking along the college backs, taking photos

Drinking afternoon tea at an outdoor café

Finally--scones and jam and clotted cream

What she’d dreamed about from early on

A tall blond man from northern Europe

Sat down next to her in St. John’s pub

Talked to her about sitting in churches to find peace

The darkness of the Cambridge streets

Kissed her when he walked her home

Still together

Twenty-seven years later

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Copyright 2014 Paula M. De Angelis

A visit to Duke Farms

Living overseas has its challenges, especially when it comes to visiting New York once a year. I usually make the trip back to my birth country and hometown during the summer months, and there are usually a myriad of places to go and people to see. Since I have limited time in New York, I have to plan how to use that time well. Every moment counts and I don’t want to spend my precious time doing things that are meaningless or that don’t give me joy. So I am together with the people who are dear to me, and I frequent those places that make me happy or that have the potential of doing so. In that way, I can include places I’ve never visited but want to visit in that category. Most of them are in New York State, but some of them are not. This year, on a hot sunny August day, I had the privilege of visiting Duke Farms in Hillsborough New Jersey together with my good friends Stef and John (married thirty-five years this year) who live in Hillsborough. We have talked about visiting Duke Farms together for a few years now; they’ve been there many times. Oddly enough, I lived near that area of New Jersey for four years before I moved to Oslo, but never visited Duke Farms before now. This year we managed a visit, and it was well-worth it, as the following photos will document. I include two links to Duke Farms here so that you can read more about this wonderful place: http://www.dukefarms.org and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Duke_Farms

near entrance to Duke Farms

sycamore allée--Duke Farms

unsure what kind of bird this is

notice the frog sitting on the rock

algae-covered pond in background

the foundation for a mansion that JB Duke never built

dead tree in algae-covered lake

the Great Falls empty into Vista Lake (not much flowing water at the time this photo was taken)

Pride before a Fall

In the wake of your unbridled hubris

Lie the remains of those who sought to serve you

Misguided attempts to appease

The ever-growing monster that you are

When you have sucked dry the bones

Of those about you, what have you left

Where do you begin anew

What is next on your agenda of annihilation

Did you not seek the obliteration of your fellows

To enhance your own self view, pride-gorged

Did you not speak to them with a forked tongue

And wonder why they cursed you silently

How many have sat out into the universe

A curse upon you, a pox on everything you hold dear

Why do you deserve better than those around you

That you ate up and spit out like carrion

You are a monster with a pretty face

That now shows the ravages of time and defeat

You too will suffer scorn at the hands of those

Who come after you

One can only hope

That you suffer as you have made others suffer

That you feel the slings and arrows

Of repudiation and ill will, that you so richly deserve

copyright 2014

Paula M. De Angelis

--------------------------------------

A new poem, that will be part of a soon-to-be-published new collection. 

Realizations

When you’re on vacation, you have a real chance to take a good long look at your life and the world around you, to assess the strengths and weaknesses of choices you’ve made, and the advantages and disadvantages of living and working in a certain way. My recent vacation in New York State made me realize that I have reached a point in my life where I prefer small to large—small towns, small companies, and small groups of people I care about. The preference for small towns instead of big cities will surprise some people who know me, I’m sure. The largeness of city life no longer appeals to me the way it did when I was starting out in my career; city life energized me then, and that is perhaps as it should be. When you’re starting out, ‘the world is your oyster’, as the saying goes. I don’t know the origin of that quote, but it most likely has to do with opening an oyster and finding a pearl inside, or opening many oysters in the search for pearls. In any case, the world of a large city is amazing and attractive for its energy and excitement. New York City is a perfect example; at one time in my life I worked there and loved that time in my life. But I would not want to have that work experience again. I grew up in a small town--Tarrytown, and every time I return to it on my annual trips, I realize how lovely it is. Part of that has to do with its smallness; it is manageable and familiar to me, even though it is no longer the same town in which I grew up. I don’t require that at all. Nothing stays the same, so it would be a waste of time and energy to try to keep things from changing. In fact, I like the changes that my hometown has made; I like what it has become. It is a lovelier town, and I feel comfortable there, with the people, the atmosphere and the landscapes. As one of my friends said, it is a mixture of people from all walks of life. I like that—a microcosm of the world. In the same way, I have come to appreciate small companies and ventures. If I could, I would work for a small company rather than for a huge bureaucratic organization where you are just an employee number at best. That’s not to say that large companies don’t function well or that they don’t treat employees well, they can and they often do, but the work experience is impersonal and it’s tough to find people who care enough about your career for it to really make an intellectual and emotional difference in your life. That’s been my experience, in any case. Bigger is not better, for many reasons that I won’t go into here.

I alternate between wanting to take new risks/start on new adventures (residual impulses from my past that continue to exert a small pull on me), and wanting to play it safer in order to focus on the people and activities that matter most to me. I am past the point where I need to take risks to prove anything as far as my career is concerned. I’ve achieved the personal career goals I aimed for and I now have other ideas about how I want to use my time, e.g. writing, as I’ve often talked about in this blog. I am already well-underway in that venture; I am currently writing two books, one a new poetry collection, the other a book about the town where I grew up. Writing feels right, even though it feels scary at times to feel that way. Am I really writer-material? Can I do it full-time instead of in my free time? I don’t do it full-time as a way of making a living, at least not now; it would not pay the bills. And that’s what’s needed right now—a job that pays the bills. I work to live, rather than live to work as I did when I was younger. That feels right too. If I don’t have to worry about the bills, I am free to write. That’s how I look at it. And if I focus small, i.e., don’t worry about the big literary world out there, full of would-be authors and budding writers, I’m fine. I can write in peace and believe in what I’m writing, without worrying about how it will be received generally. What drives me now is the desire to share my thoughts and feelings that make up the stories, poems, and novels that I am creating. The desire to create is what satisfies me now, followed by the desire to share what I’ve created. Quite a new thing for me. 

Mostly, I’m happy with my life at present. I am letting go of older ways of thinking and doing things, and that feels right. I’m preparing for new life phases, and am grateful for the time to think about those phases and to prepare for them. Not everyone gets that chance, for different reasons. I am grateful for the peace and harmony that vacation has imparted to me. I am also grateful for all those who are dear to me, whom I care about and who care about me. Not everyone has those kinds of people in their life, for different reasons. I’ve realized too that letting go leads to peace and to the understanding that living life is not about controlling it or its outcome. It’s about living life and being present in your life.

A summer poem by Mary Oliver

I love this poem........

The Summer Day 

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean--
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down--
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life?

A summer poem by Robert Louis Stevenson

Summer Sun 

Great is the sun, and wide he goes 

Through empty heaven with repose;
And in the blue and glowing days
More thick than rain he showers his rays.

Though closer still the blinds we pull
To keep the shady parlour cool,
Yet he will find a chink or two
To slip his golden fingers through.

The dusty attic spider-clad
He, through the keyhole, maketh glad;
And through the broken edge of tiles
Into the laddered hay-loft smiles.

Meantime his golden face around
He bares to all the garden ground,
And sheds a warm and glittering look
Among the ivy's inmost nook.

Above the hills, along the blue,
Round the bright air with footing true,
To please the child, to paint the rose,
The gardener of the World, he goes.

Photographic journey through Arendal, Stavanger, Bergen and Hardanger

As promised, photos from our trips to Arendal, Stavanger, Bergen and Hardanger--enjoy!

Arendal

ferry from Arendal to Tromøy

Stavanger city park

Stavanger city park

Stavanger waterfront

city park

Sola strand (beach)

Sola strand

my husband in a romantic moment

the ocean was warm

beautiful Sola strand

lovely old house in Gamle Stavanger

street in Gamle Stavanger with beautifully-kept old homes

gorgeous flowers 

gorgeous garden

Stavanger city park, early evening

Bergen waterfront

sunset in Bergen

beautiful Bergen

Hardanger

Hardanger

Eidfjord

Hardangervidda

Hardangervidda

Oslo-Arendal-Stavanger-Bergen-Hardanger-Oslo

This summer, we decided to take a week’s vacation and travel around Norway; our plans were to drive from Oslo to Bergen with stops in Arendal and Stavanger, and then to return to Oslo via Hardangervidda. We’ve been to Arendal and Bergen before, but never Stavanger. The trip was about 780 miles (1255 kilometers) long. We followed the E18 highway south out of Oslo to Arendal, and then as we made our way to Stavanger and Bergen, we followed the E39 highway. On the way back to Oslo, we followed RV 7 instead of E134 that would have taken us through the Telemark region of Norway. I’ve mapped out the route we took on the map above.

We had booked hotels for one night in Arendal, two nights in Stavanger and two nights in Bergen. In this way, we didn’t have to drive too much each day, and it gave us a chance to experience each of the cities at a leisurely pace. Arendal is a small charming seaside town that is a summer destination for many Norwegians who have cottages there. However this year, the town was rather empty, strangely enough, since July is the month when most Norwegians take vacation. South Norway, in the area around Mandal (the southernmost town of Norway), is one of the most beautiful areas of the country in my opinion. I really enjoyed being in Stavanger; the city has a very open feel to it, as well as being quite pretty. Its city park is beautiful, as is its waterfront. We drove out to Sola Strand (beach) one day, a long sandy beach with dunes and beach flowers. It can be quite windy there, so it is popular with those who like to fly kites. We took a long walk along the beach, commenting on the large number of dead jellyfish that were half-buried in the sand. There is a resort hotel not far from the beach where we ate lunch--the Sola Strand Hotel (http://en.sola-strandhotel.no/?_ga=1.143502581.1544536728.1406195460); it would be a great place to stay, perhaps on a future trip to Stavanger. We also walked around Gamle Stavanger (the old part of the city) on the last evening we were there. This part of the city has lovely old white homes with picket fences and beautiful flower gardens; they are immaculately maintained for the most part.

The following day, we drove on to Bergen, which is a beautiful coastal city, but not one for timid or impatient drivers. If you want to become completely flustered, try driving in Bergen. We had problems not only localizing our hotel, but physically getting to it. Fortunately, we managed. We had a great seafood dinner one night at Bryggeloftet & Stuene located on Bryggen (the pier), and also spent time visiting the Bergen aquarium as well as an old friend who lives on the island of Sotra that is located west of Bergen. It was pleasant to walk around the city, packed with tourists, boaters, and classic car enthusiasts, quite a different atmosphere compared to Arendal. We also spent some time listening to the street musician Gee Gee Kettel and his daughter Soluna Somay.

And then it was time for our return trip over Hardangervidda. The last time we drove over this huge plateau in Hardanger was in 1991 when we attended the International Society for Analytical Cytology conference that was held in Bergen. According to Wikipedia, Hardangervidda is the largest eroded plain in Europe. I remember being fascinated by the landscape then—both hilly and flat (plateau-like), rocky terrain, stones here and there, dotted with small lakes and streams and patches of snow, and mostly treeless. I had never seen anything quite like it. At that time, I made my husband stop so I could get out of the car and walk to one of the small pools to touch the water to see how cold it was (it was cold). Hardangervidda’s somewhat forbidding landscape was used as the ice planet in the Star Wars film "The Empire Strikes Back". After having driven over the moors in northeast England last year, I realize that Hardangervidda resembles the moors in many ways. It stretches for miles, and is often closed to traffic during the winter months due to the large amounts of snow that pile up on the road. Sheep wander about, often coming up to the road or crossing it, exactly as was the case on the moors last summer when we drove over them. When we reached Geilo in Hol, we enjoyed an afternoon visit with more friends who have a cottage there. And then it was a few more hours of driving before we reached home. In my next post, I'll include some photos from our trip. 

An all-encompassing rage

I haven’t wanted to comment the downing of Malaysia Airlines flight MH17 last week that killed 298 people before now, mostly because the news is filled with reports about the plane, the crash site, the bodies decomposing in the sun waiting to be transported for autopsy, the search for the black boxes, the confusion about whether the crash site has been tampered with—all those things. It is unrelenting coverage, as well it should be. But I have thought about it every day since it happened. And instead of my rage against the perpetrators of this atrocity abating as time passes, it has only increased as I read about the horrors that this flight and its passengers must have endured, and what family members and loved ones are enduring as they wait for information about when the bodies will be transported home to the Netherlands and to other countries. I need only read about the type of missile that was allegedly used to take down the plane, one that explodes under the plane, facilitating the destruction of the plane via shrapnel that pierces the plane’s skin in multiple places, causing the plane to shear apart, and my rage intensifies. I realize that this tragedy, like the destruction of the Twin Towers in Manhattan on September 11, 2001 that killed almost 3000 people, and the murders of 92 people on the island of Utøya and in Oslo by the Norwegian terrorist Anders Behring Breivik three years ago today, are versions of hell that are beyond our most horrific nightmares and imaginings. Hell exists, make no mistake about it. Unfortunately, it seems as innocent people are the ones who experience this hell on earth, not the evildoers who rightly deserve it. 

There is a lot of evil in the world. We cannot close our eyes to it. We cannot pretend that it does not exist. Endless dialogue and peace conferences are not enough to convert evildoers to good people. That’s a fantasy. Evildoers must be punished. To ignore the existence of evil, to explain it away, or to feel sorry for the evildoers only allows for more of it. The downing of a civilian plane is an act of war; the perpetrators need to be brought to trial in an international court of law, found guilty, and sentenced. Whether or not that sentence is life in prison or death does not bother me. When you drag 298 innocent people into your war, you may pay with your life. That is justifiable, in my book. If you live by the sword, you die by the sword. I don’t know how this particular case will be handled. I only know that there has to be swift and hard retribution so that the families and loved ones of those who died get justice.

But what does one do with the rage that one feels when faced with dealing and absorbing the impact of these events? I did not know anyone personally who died in any of these terrorist attacks, and yet, I have a rage inside of me that scares me. I don’t know what to do with it. It is an all-encompassing rage, an absolute rage, a rage that desires annihilation of the evildoers. It is a rage without end; years can pass, and suddenly I can watch a TV report about 9/11 or read an article about it, and the rage returns. If I have this kind of rage, what do those who lost family members and loved ones in these attacks feel? If they feel rage like this, how do they deal with it? I don’t consider myself an evil person, but certainly some of my thoughts are evil, in terms of the afflictions I hope the perpetrators of all these attacks will eventually suffer.

Taking on the challenge of doing push-ups for one hundred days

I quit going to the gym a few years ago. I could never get motivated enough to get there more than once a week, and I ended up spending a lot of money on a membership I seldom used. I liked the cross elliptical trainers best; those are the machines that work your legs and your arms (in a cross-country skiing way). But they were always in use, so that you ended up having to wait to use them. So, I'm now biking and walking as much as I can, having integrated those exercises into my daily life and routines--walking to and from work, biking to and from work, biking instead of taking the bus, walking instead of taking the car or the bus--those kinds of things. That's what works for me. I realize that I don't miss the gym at all. In fact, I wouldn't go back, because I realize that I enjoy being outdoors while I'm walking and biking. I missed being out in nature.

I decided recently that in addition to these activities, I wanted to strengthen my arms since I've never had much arm strength. Serendipitously, I came across a video and a website link that inspired me to start doing push-ups. Normally, I am a bit skeptical when it comes to books or shows that promise that after 30 days, you'll be in great shape, for example. But I decided to start doing push-ups. Over one month later, I actually do have muscles in my upper arms that weren't there before I started the push-ups. I can tell you that push-ups do work to build up arm muscles and to make your arms stronger. I don't know that I'll get to the point that the young lady got to in the video after 100 days of push-ups (I'd like to), but after one month, I have muscles that I never thought I'd have. She did it as part of the Give It 100 movement (https://giveit100.com/), and documented her progress on video each day. I'm challenging myself without documenting my progress each day. I'll keep on going, because I got results, and because I want to see how far I can actually go.

Here is the website link to Womanitely: 7 Exercises that will transform your body---http://womanitely.com/exercises-transform-your-body/. I'm doing some of the other recommended exercises as well. I can do them at home, whenever I want, and there's no pressure. Just do a few of them once a day. You'll see a difference after one month.

And here's the video that originally inspired me to try doing push-ups:

What Georges Bernanos said

Faith is not a thing which one 'loses,' we merely cease to shape our lives by it.

Hope is a risk that must be run.

It's a fine thing to rise above pride, but you must have pride in order to do so.

No one ever discovers the depths of his own loneliness.

The wish to pray is a prayer in itself. God can ask no more than that of us.

Hell, madam, is to love no longer.

It is the perpetual dread of fear, the fear of fear, that shapes the face of a brave man.

Truth is meant to save you first, and the comfort comes afterward.

Little things seem nothing, but they give peace, like those meadow flowers which individually seem odorless but all together perfume the air.

The first sign of corruption in a society that is still alive is that the end justifies the means.
----------------------------------------

Georges Bernanos wrote a wonderful book, Diary of a Country Priest, that I read many years ago, but stumbled upon again recently. First published in 1937, it is the story of an unassuming parish priest, who tries his best to serve his people. His trials and tribulations, his poor health and his feelings of inferiority are really what the novel is about—how he tries to be a good and humble priest, a good man and a good Catholic. Well worth reading. 

What I did before my summer vacation (one hectic month in the life of an academic researcher)

Academia is an unpredictable profession at best; for the most part, one never knows from year to year how much funding one will have to design and implement research projects, how many students one will have responsibility for, how many grant proposals one will write, or even how many papers one will write and send for publication. The unpredictability of the profession stems from the unpredictability associated with grant funding: is a researcher’s proposal good enough; will it get into the top ten percent; will it get funded, and if so, how much will the researcher get; will he or she get support for students and lab consumables or just consumables; and what happens if he or she doesn’t get funding. The list of worries is potentially a long one.

December and June are always busy and hectic months in academia, mostly because researchers rush to finish experiments and to send out their articles before the Christmas holidays and summer vacation, respectively. They are stressful months that have to be confronted and tackled before one can take vacation in good conscience. The odd thing is that the pace of academia is so erratic; during the other months, there are often lulls when one wishes one was busier. Personally, I would prefer if the pace was more even and thus less stressful during the entire academic year, such that the amount of work was spread out more evenly.

So what did I do from mid-May until now, before my summer vacation? I am co-adviser for a PhD student who has to deliver her thesis by the end of July, plus send her last article for publication so that she can write in her thesis that it has been submitted for publication. I am senior author on that paper, so I have read through and edited the paper several times during the month of June. Additionally, I have read through and edited her thesis for both scientific and grammatical accuracy several times. Most Norwegian students write their theses in English. I believe it is now a requirement, whereas their defense can be in Norwegian, although many choose to defend in English. Most Norwegians speak English well, especially the younger ones who have grown up watching American TV programs and movies, surfing the internet/social media, and listening to music. So it is not a major problem to edit a thesis for correct English usage; it just takes time. But this is what a senior scientist does—it’s part of the job. 

I also wrote a grant proposal that I submitted to the Cancer Society in early June. I spent more than a month reading background articles and writing the proposal, which had to do with treating gastrointestinal cancers with drugs that drive them into a senescent (non-proliferating) state. I was a peer reviewer for an article about treating colorectal cancer with a combination of natural compounds that led to effective tumor kill without killing normal cells, a win-win situation for patients. I was also an external grant reviewer for another country; this is often done—that granting agencies send out grant proposals for external review outside their own country. In this case, I learned a lot about treatment of colorectal cancer with adoptive cell transfer using tumor-infiltrating lymphocytes. This is a field I knew only a bit about, but about which I know quite a lot more at this point after having read the proposal and a number of review articles that helped me to understand it so that I could review it properly. I also read and edited an article written by two of my colleagues who asked me to check their review article for correct English usage and grammar. I also read some background articles about ionizing radiation and how it is used in cancer treatment; this was information I found on the American Cancer Society website. I am impressed with the information that is available there to patients and their families, and impressed with the writers who create these articles and brochures. Finally, I printed out a number of review articles about mass spectrometry imaging of tissue samples; this is a cutting-edge technology that has a bright future not only in cancer research, but in pathology generally, as well as in disease treatment, pharmacology and toxicology. I need to learn as much about it as possible in case I travel to visit a medical center in the States that uses this technology successfully in their research projects.

It occurred to me today that I could work as an editor of a scientific journal, as a senior adviser for any number of scientific/political organizations, and as a scientific writer. I do all these things in my job as an academic research scientist, in addition to planning research projects and figuring out how to implement them. One must also figure out how to do all these things on a limited budget if such is the case. Academia is really a creative profession, in more ways than one.