What Comes Next

In an effort to bring myself out of the slump I've been in for almost a year, I wanted to write about things that make me excited. It seemed easy at first because I know what I like, but when I really thought about how much joy those things have brought to my life in the past year or maybe even longer, I started to question whether they really meant what they had originally. Then I realized something crucial: That's kind of what depression does. Things just aren't as much fun, and even the things that you know you love and have a real passion for--they start to matter less and less. They stop being able to fill that emptiness, and then you eventually stop trying to use them for that purpose, which only makes things worse. I think my situation has gotten worse in the last two weeks because I'm out of medication. There is no Asperger's specialist in this area, according to my doctor from Pittsburgh, and I don't exactly have a primary care doctor anymore. I've been trying to push through without it, but I could tell that even with the medication, this shift to living back east for the first time in 6 years has been difficult. It's making that disconnected feeling a lot worse. That's how this all started, but let me see if I can focus on the things that have had some meaning in my life. Maybe I can reassure myself of some things.

Let's start with a simple list, without going into any explanation. They are in no particular order because I don't think of things in order. They happen all at once, which is why I feel the need to put everything in order outside of myself:

Language/Communication
Working Out
Neuroscience/Brains
Music/Rhythm/Synchronization

I think that everything that I do/like in this world can be traced back to one of those four things.


This started out as a love of words, especially strange and/or archaic terms that my English teachers frowned upon throughout the early years of my schooling. I was told that no one could understand what I was trying to say, and my response was something like this: "I don't write for stupid people." I got a little better about using my vocabulary of peculiar words more sparingly, and once I understood how to manipulate my style for a particular audience, I started to realize how childish that statement of mine had been. For me, words have something that can be described as a kind of flavor. It's not just a connotation. It's something more visceral. Even words that mean the same thing can feel different. And some flavors don't mix very well, even if the definitions indicate that they make perfect sense when placed together. I'm sure you've read something before that has caused you to make the same face you would when smelling something unpleasant. (I just smiled at that, and I am all alone, with no one else to influence that. It came from within. Therefore, I know this is real. And that fact also makes me smile.)

I suppose I also think of words strung together in terms of rhythm. I think I have the rhythm of what I am writing set before I have the actual words. Then it becomes a matter of simply finding the most aesthetically pleasing combination of language elements. For example, in that last sentence, I felt it necessary to add "of language elements" because I felt like stopping at the word "combination" disrupted the natural flow of the sentence. It seemed to just stop. In order for the rhythm to be complete, it needed more, but it couldn't be just anything. I know this seems like a complicated explanation, but this usually happens instantaneously, and I think I have written this way for the majority of my life. I only started thinking about it when I needed to figure out ways to modify my writing.

I used to be able to diagram any sentence you could give me, and I'm sure I could still do that, but I'd probably have to look up a few rules for more obscure things. I was fascinated by the idea that language was so structured, and that every little piece had its place. I would just do this for fun back in grade school. Seeing a sentence like that really helped me to understand the subtle relationships between the various parts of a sentence. It was like math with words, and that is incredibly cool when you think about it.

I don't think I understood how vast the realm of nonverbal communication is until I was in my late teens, which is probably why I felt clueless in a lot of social interactions prior to that. Studying linguistics in college and learning to pay attention to things definitely helped. It's pretty beautiful how languages/systems of communication just seem to develop effortlessly. And no matter what restrictions we come up with, exerting pressure on the system to conform has little to no effect. These systems develop almost like living organisms, and this again is another analogy that makes me smile. Perhaps I'm smiling because of how easy it becomes to understand that everything in this universe is interconnected. I'm also sure that part of that is because everything in this universe is experienced through the same filter, but this doesn't make it any less interesting or awe-inspiring.

I'm particularly interested in how the human brain processes meaning. What are the neurological correlates of our understanding of the world? That's an incredibly broad field of research, and I think it would be amazing if you could figure out the exact signals and pathways necessary to produce a meaningful element. I want to know how people understand things in a biological sense. This isn't just fun-fact stuff either. Knowing these pathways can help us create better computer models, in addition to helping us develop better ways to teach the brain new associations. On a somewhat related note, I recently devoured a book called The Symbolic Species. The author's name escapes me right now, but it's a very detailed overview of the theory that what makes human beings unique in their ability to learn language is not a matter of basic intelligence but a matter of the evolution of a brain with an extraordinary capacity to learn symbolic rather than purely referential relationships. Once a basic set of symbolic relationships has been established, it then becomes possible to define symbols in terms of other symbols, and you can extrapolate from there. Again, I'm going to highlight the interconnectedness of everything by pointing out how amazing it would be to know the precise pathways involved in creating this initial symbolic framework. Wow. It really feels good to get to be a nerd again.

I started out with a particular topic in mind for this section, but everything got jumbled up anyway. It's hard to separate everything completely, so I'm just going to leave it how it is.

Random fact: There are sets of neurons in your body that are synchronized. They have a natural rhythm. Rhythm is visceral to the extent that it occurs at a CELLULAR level. I mean, there's also the set in your heart that keeps it beating...

Working out sort of fits into this picture I'm building too. When you're playing a sport, or lifting weights, you need to find the rhythm. Contemporary psychologists will often describe this in terms of "flow" or being in the moment, in the zone, etc. Also, I love being in control of that rhythm and the results my actions will bring. Not much works that way in life. I love being in control of my body, and I love watching other people who have control of their bodies in ways that are different from mine. I love knowing that particular changes will occur with particular types of exercises, and I love learning about the different ways exercise can affect the nervous system in general, not just the brain. The science of sport is something that brings everything together. Nerdy biology things, a passion for fitness, and in writing about it, I get to bring that passion into the mix as well. I don't think I need to say how important music is when it comes to any sort of physical activity, but I suppose it does make sense to mention that people have a hard time NOT moving when there is music playing. People like to be in sync with one another--emotionally, physically, spiritually...you name it. And I really do think this all goes back to the fact that our bodies have a natural rhythm, and it makes sense to want to extend this to other aspects of our lives.

For me, being synchronized with others makes me feel connected to them. I've had a lot of trouble building connections with other human beings, but drumming, dancing, even playing a sport with others and knowing how your teammates work have helped me to make up for what I haven't been able to do through ordinary means. If I can do something like this with someone, I will automatically feel closer to them, and I really do think I understand them better. One of the greatest feelings in the world is playing in a line and really being in the same mental space as everyone around you. It's like you really have created an open pathway that connects your brain to the brains of those around you. I also find it interesting that this is kind of how the brain learns new things. LTP requires synchronization. It's how you build connections inside. Why not again extend this into the physical world?

I could go on about each of these things for hours, but I've been able to remind myself of the things that get me excited. I didn't mention drag here because it is something different. I love my creative side, but that stems from the thinking side as well. You can't be creative if you don't understand relationships between things, and I think I needed to get back in touch with how I understand the world. This is probably why I haven't felt so creative lately. I love performing because it gives me a chance to express to others how I understand the world, and I can do this with music--with rhythm and synchronization. But again, I really need to get back to thinking about how I understand things and what makes me unique. Then I'll really be able to offer something people have never seen or felt before. It's another way of building a connection with people without saying a word. And it's beautiful. I've been able to understand a lot more about some people by watching their performances than by having conversations with them, and sometimes this is the only learning opportunity I have. But I like when people can do that. It takes balls and a lot of thought to show your true colors on stage without making completely obvious. The spice of life is in the subtleties.

I think a lot of this has helped me to decide that I really do belong back in academia. I'm a thinker by nature. Sometimes I can't turn it off. Actually, that's most of the time, unfortunately. This is what I do best, and it would be amazing to be able to do it for a living. But I don't want to just write research articles. I have a real desire to write informative pieces for the public because what good is the research if no one knows about it?! I like making science accessible to people. I like making overly complicated things a little simpler.

If I apply to grad school, I'm going to have to do this anyway, so I might as well give it a shot here. What would I study? What seems most applicable and still gets me nerdhigh? I want to know how the brain responds to physical exercise. I want to know how thinking changes during exercise, in the short term and in the long term. I want to understand the cognitive benefits as well as the physical ones. I want to work with people who are developing programs that utilize physical activity to treat mental issues. And I want to teach people about how their brains and bodies have to work in conjunction with one another in order to maximize one's potential and happiness. I learned a lot about this through transition--how important it was for the mind and body to work in harmony. A lot of things today interfere with that. I want to get my certification so I can train young people and perhaps whole families. There's a lot more to exercise than physical exertion. It's a social activity, and this is something that needs to be explored too. How cool would it be to base a social skills program around an exercise program? The brain will change its structure in response to physical activity, and I want to know more about this. I want to know how to utilize this in what I do. I know this sounds like a lot, but I think it all fits together. And it makes me happy thinking about all the good things that can come from it. I'm crying right now because I think I have it figured out, but I've said that before. But I've never written this extensively about any of the other things. I've never taken the time to put it all out there, so I must have thought it was important enough to devote all of this time to it. I'll never be 100 percent certain, and maybe I already had this in my head, but I think I need to go for this. I can never be sure it will lead to ultimate happiness for the rest of my life, but I will be happy on the journey. I will be doing things I love. And that is better than doing nothing at all, which is what I feel I am doing right now. I've been afraid of moving because I don't want to go in the wrong direction. But there may not be a wrong direction. I see a lot of GOOD things in front of me, and I can pick from any one of them, and I will probably be happy with any choice that I make. And perhaps I will think a little about what it would have been like to make a different choice, but I'm also doing that right now. I don't have to do anything. I don't need to do anything. But I think this is what I want to do. And maybe I want to do more than one thing, and that is probably normal. But I can't avoid making a choice because I like too many things. I would've starved by now if everything worked that way.

I think the hardest part about this is going to be getting the process started, and I'm going to worry if I'm good enough. I hope this is one of those decisions that becomes life-changing. I hope it's something I remember as one of the greatest decisions I have ever made. But for right now, it's just what comes next.

Intro for My Brain Basics Guide

I am ridiculously excited about my first article having been posted the other day. My next challenge was to write a brain basics guide. Believe me when I say that it is quite difficult to simplify certain concepts in neuroscience, but I've definitely had fun trying.

Here's the intro for the guide (which is now 10 pages long and will probably end up being somewhere from 13-15 pages total):

Think about how life would be if you could not communicate. Most of us feel completely disconnected even when we lose our cell phones for just a day, but imagine how terrible it would be to lose your nervous system. The nervous system is the great communicator, connector, and interpreter among the systems of the human body. It is responsible for transmitting messages from one cell to another and making sure the message is received and interpreted properly. It is also the system that allows us to perceive all that is around us through our five senses, learn a language and use it in an organized way, experience emotions, and remember the things that have happened to us. The nervous system makes sure that all of the above types of information can be shared amongst the system so that we can, for example, become happy when we remember our wedding day or take caution when we know that the pot on the stove is too hot. None of this would be possible without your nervous system, so you’re lucky you can’t leave home without it…unlike your cell phone.
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Lol obviously this example was taken from personal experience...

First Moodtraining.com Article (unedited)

You can’t help but notice them from across the gym, gazing fondly and smiling at their own massive and well-developed musculature. Perhaps you’ve even been annoyed by their seemingly apparent egotism as you quietly go about your daily routine, hoping no one catches you yourself making furtive glances toward the gym’s wall of mirrors. But current research regarding body image and self-monitoring suggests that these meatheads might be on to something.

One area of the brain highly involved in coordinating information related to one’s body image and perception of physical self is known as the parietal cortex, an area that is well known for its role in utilizing visual and somatosensory information to plan and execute movements. Essentially, this area of the brain can help us to determine where an object is in space and how to go about manipulating it. Current research indicates that the parietal cortex also integrates visual cues and somatic input from the skin, muscles, and joints via a distributed network of neurons in order to compute body image.1 Some common disorders of body image such as anorexia nervosa and body dysmorphic disorder may be associated with dysfunction in this region of the brain.1,2

Given this knowledge, it is not hard to see that Mr. Meathead across the gym may actually be utilizing a self-monitoring technique that may aid in his quest to be the next Mr. Olympia. While this may not be your ultimate goal, don’t be afraid to pause to witness the remarkable physical transformations that can occur within a single workout. You’ll notice your veins and muscles have visibly expanded due to the effects of the strenuous exercise, and if getting big is a high priority for you, allowing your parietal cortex to indulge can help to positively alter your own perception of your physical self. So go ahead and stare!

Other types of self-monitoring have been utilized in helping individuals maintain their fitness goals, particularly those who have suffered from obesity. Consistent self-monitoring techniques, as shown in a study by Butryn et al., were associated with lower BMI scores and a higher ability to practice self-restraint.3 Whether the monitoring technique used is weighing yourself daily, maintaining a written and/or visual diary, or simply taking a moment in the mirror to reflect on how jacked you’re becoming, it is an important component of self-initiated mood optimization (Principle 1). And according to a recent study by Ryckman et al., those who harbor more positive perceptions of their own physical capacity outperform those with less positive views on tasks involving the use of physical skills.4 So ,simply by believing in your own strength and abilities, you put yourself at a tremendous advantage!

Optimizing your mood through visual and other types of feedback will have you feeling stronger, happier, and more satisfied with your choice to stay fit and healthy, and you’ll be more likely to stick with your regimen, regardless if your goal is weight-loss, muscle building, or something else entirely. A more positive perception of oneself permeates all aspects of thinking and being, influencing everything from our success at work to our personal relationships with others. By taking time to visually and verbally appreciate our daily fitness victories (and non-fitness victories), we can begin to harness that positive energy and use it as a force for good in the world around us.


1. Ehrsson HH, Kito T, Sadato N, Passingham RE, Naito E (2005) Neural Substrate of Body Size: Illusory Feeling of Shrinking of the Waist. PLoS Biol 3(12): e412. doi:10.1371/journal.pbio.0030412.
2. Wagner, Angela; Ruf, Matthias; Braus, Dieter F.; Schmidt, Martin H. (2003) Neuronal activity changes and body image distortion in anorexia nervosa. NeuroReport 14(17): 2193-2197.
3. Butryn, Meghan L.; Phelan, Suzanne; Hill, James O.; Wing, Rena R. (2007) Consistent Self-monitoring of Weight: A Key Component of Successful Weight Loss Maintenance. Obesity (15): 3091-3096.
4. Ryckman, Richard M.; Robbins, Michael A.; Thornton, Billy; Cantrell, Peggy (1982). Development and validation of a physical self-efficacy scale. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 42(5): 891-900.

"So...What the Fuck Do You Do?"

In the course of my undergraduate career, I have been asked my major literally hundreds of times, and each time, my response generates surprise mingled with a little bit of confusion. The average person is unlikely to recognize the connection between Neuroscience and Linguistics, but from the very beginning, I’ve been fascinated with how language works, and an integral part of understanding how language works is deciphering how language works in the human brain.
Throughout the course of my undergraduate research career in cognitive neuroscience, I have been attempting to synthesize information in the connectionist model of reading with a more general theory of cognitive semantics. Current models of reading suggest that written text is comparable to other objects in the external world, and perhaps the human brain learns to deal with them in similar ways. For example, Frith proposes several stages through which learners must progress on their way to reading proficiency. In what he terms the logographic stage, word processing has not yet become specialized, and individual words are represented as objects associated with their particular global features, meaning that there will be a high degree of inaccuracy if the font or pattern is altered. This means that a child may not recognize the word bat if it is written as BAT. In my eyes, this is quite similar to the concept of underextension: Children learning how to use their language in relation to objects in the real world often fail to recognize certain objects as belonging to the same class. In the beginning, learning how to read is very much like learning how to name objects appropriately: You need to know that a capital b is just as much a b as a lowercase b, just as you need to know that a poodle is just as much a dog as a cocker spaniel. Knowing the former is crucial to your understanding of the word form presented, and knowing the latter is crucial to your understanding of the concept of dog.
Briefly, the connectionist model of processing written (or spoken) language argues that there is a unified neural network that synthesizes information from phonology, syntax, semantics, etc. using statistical relationships. If we encounter a word, concept, or pattern of letters more frequently, some connections associated with this entity will become stronger for the next set of computations. Though this may seem like a unique way of dealing with language processing, many other mental processes are theorized to work in a similar way, such as object recognition as in the example above. I propose going further with this idea in the future because I believe object recognition is also intimately related to one’s internal language processing. The processes of language and object recognition may be tied together so well that we cannot wholly separate them at this point, however. I also believe that one can interpret the evolution of metaphor in a similar way. In the beginning, a metaphor must be explained and continually explained because the similar concepts that connect the usages are not as well defined, in reality as well as in the human mind. Once the human brain begins to associate the concepts, a connection is strengthened. It is further strengthened by repeated use of the metaphor, perhaps so much so that the original connections needed to sustain the metaphor are no longer needed. In this case, we may have a dead metaphor whose connection to the original usage is no longer apparent. (It is not to say that these processes are conscious. Our brains manipulate this information constantly and quite subtly.)
Inhibition and priming can also be related to the realm of language, though these are most often considered physiological processes that apply to other types of experience. When I understand the concept of go, I am connecting it to motion of some sort, and my brain starts to file through the different types of motion the word can indicate. Trying to define the meaning of the word without its context is rather difficult. However, when we place the word go in a sentence, the other words in the sentence will cause a particular set of neurons to fire, and these activated neurons will activate others that are connected to particular meanings of the word go and silence neurons that are connected to conflicting meanings. In this way, I can come to the conclusion that the meanings of go in I am going crazy and I am going to the store are not the same. However, when I am only presented with the word go and am asked to define it, what will I say? I will most likely give a response that is consistent with the most statistically encountered interpretation of the concept because those would be the strongest connections in my brain. This concept of strengthening connections is actually a very generally applied phenomenon known as long-term potentiation (LTP), and it is an observed phenomenon that is applied to all types of learning scenarios. But I believe that the concept of priming can override the statistically more encountered concept. If I have just finished talking about going crazy, and someone asks me what that word go means, the most recent example will most likely be the one I use to tailor my definition. Those will be the strongest connections in my mind AT THAT MOMENT because they have just been activated, and competing interpretations may still be recovering from some type of inhibition.
From the examples I have given above, it’s probably pretty apparent that I firmly believe in a more cognitive theory of linguistics (and pretty much any type of discipline that can be connected to mental processes). However, I do believe that formal disciplines offer great ways of modeling some of the more complex concepts. Drawing a syntax tree may be able to give us an idea of just one little piece of what information our brains may be using to process linguistic information, for example. But it is not an entirely accurate description of all the nuances of that processing. Chemical formulae are used as shorthand to represent much more complicated (and much less neat) chemical processes that occur in the real world, and perhaps one can think of formal semantics as adopting a kind of shorthand to represent an infinitely complex arrangement of neural processes that the realm of cognitive semantics is beginning to tease apart.

Connections

A little while ago, I finished reading a book entitled Born on a Blue Day, written by a savant with Asperger's. I think I'll save my feelings on the book for another time, but I will at least say that a lot of what he mentions in his book is quite familiar to me. Upon finishing the book, I was left with a hunger for more--more words and more information. Reading is one of those contagious little maladies whose presence many like myself welcome rather than scorn. I just wanted to keep the words going because of how comforting they are to me. In keeping with this theme, I decided to try to finish a book on cross-linguistic transfer, and the place at which I happened to stop at the culmination of my last read concerns itself with the internalization of new concepts: conceptual transfer, if you will. This concept of one's mind making room for yet more concepts when presented with models for thought peculiar to a newly acquired language is not difficult to grasp, though it may be difficult for some to relate to the experience and the feelings associated with it.
Through my experience in other languages, particularly ASL, I understand the power that conceptual transfer possesses to completely transform one's internalization of the reality around him. However, I'm now realizing that my ability to relate to conceptual transfer experiences has deeper roots in my personal communication experiences within my first language. Throughout my life, I've had to learn and sometimes memorize and practice behaviors seemingly intuitive to the rest of the world. A lot of these behaviors stem from the internalized concepts of other human beings, and some of those concepts still remain rather foreign to me. It's not that I don't have any idea about them; it's that they don't translate 100 percent for me. For example, the idea of personal space as being something sacred was something I had to get used to, at least when other people were concerned. I would pluck, poke, and touch my high school friends to express how I felt, and I always assumed that people who were averse to this did not like me at all. I had to learn the hard way that, just as there are types of touch and other stimuli that make me uncomfortable, other people too have these feelings about the space around them. I'm not really sure why I wasn't able to make the connection between my experience and that of my peers, though I'm working toward that as well. But when I finally understood the idea, my brain expanded and was opened up for even more new ideas.
Conceptual transfer is ultimately about making connections between the reality in your head and the reality of the greater universe, no matter what language is involved, and I brim with elation every time I get a glimpse of another person's way of experiencing the world or another way in which I can grow in how I experience it. I'm learning all the time. It's something that happens all the time, and I feel so fortunate that I'm aware that something this miraculous is happening right inside my own head.