Reaching new states of consciousness…
Ah, the post exam stupor. I find myself turning circles in the living room, vigorously motivated to be doing something, but not to be doing any of the things that come to mind. At least I made it home without incident this time, without forgetting anything at school, for example my car, in one memorable incident some time ago. (Of course that might be because I don’t have a car to “misplace” anymore.)
This thought, the first semi-coherent one in some hours, suddenly is hijacked: is this a new state of consciousness? What are the neural correlates of post-exam stupor? What brain regions are affected, using which physiological mechanisms, and what experimental paradigms could I use to find out? I realize this course has seriously screwed me up. Perhaps the level of corticosteroid in my lateral amygdale has caused long-term potentiation of… aaaaaaa, turn off damn it! Still, through all the torture I have retained a faintly glowing grain of appreciation and a wisp of curiosity about brains and cognition, which is pretty much the point of wanting to be a scientist according to myself I am not sure this quote by T.S. Eliot had anything to do with cognitive neuroscience when he said: “We shall not cease from exploration and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started… and know the place for the first time.”
On a different note, our neighbours really are rompicoglioni (I believe the translation is “breakers of our nuts”?). They came around complaining I was making too much noise (with my fiddle) as they were “really trying to get some sleep” (add exasperated tone)…. At 10 o’clock on a Saturday evening. Okay, maybe it’s a bit late to fully appreciate hearing a howling cat being strangled to death, but sleeping? On Saturday? Before 2200? Are they vampires? And then Gio bought a drum set…. 
They don’t seem to return my cheery morning hellos anymore for some reason.
Now that is the end of March, traditionally for me the time for longing glances into the melting stratified ice/poo layers for the first glimpse of grass shoots, the Netherlands decided winter should start. This consists of having ice pellets flung into your eyes at near the speed of sound while you attempt to control the bicycle you inevitably find between your legs during all outdoor excursions, in true Dutch fashion. My complaining is only half-hearted, though, because I remember December: as a period of near complete darkness (owing to the short daylight hours, long school hours, and the basement classroom) in which I was soaked through to the skin twice a day and spent the rest of it shiveringly trying to become One with baseboard heaters in my classroom, home, and anywhere else. Ice pellets welcome! Snow grains, crystals, and flakes! Sleet too, if you must! Just no more rainy darkness.
And that’s most of the news I’m afraid. Neighbours, neurons, glorious noisemaking, and rain. Life during the school semester doesn’t make for an interesting blog, but there are a few adventures on the horizon: Russia at the end of next month for an intensive neuroscience “Spring School”, Switzerland at the end of May for some camping and Dutch friends meets rocks and trees - type introductions, my school’s own Summer School (with a topic I’m very interested in and a Big Cheese guest chair), a workshop on Brain Computer Interfacing in Utrecht, and finally, home to Canada in July!! Eeeeeeee!