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August 10 今年夏天这两天的闷热和雷雨总算让人有了夏天的感觉。眼看夏天就要过去,还没出过什么远门,回家把假期用光了,只好乖乖宅在实验室里干活,只有利用周末时间,所以活动范围基本在湖边一带。有些地方,去了不止一次,每一次都能看到不同的风景。过了Mackinac Bridge2号公路有一段几乎是贴着湖的,我们往北开了一小段。可惜那天风很大,还有点冷,就在沙滩上坐着,看大家玩耍也觉得挺惬意。Mackinaw City沿着Lake Huron的那条街可能是最繁华的街道了,漫步的行人很多,傍晚的露天音乐会,晚上还有激光表演,大家都各得其乐的样子。Cuyahoga valley在去之前就没有太多期待,所以也谈不上失望。就是一个很大的山谷,两边都是树。几座桥横跨山谷,一不小心就开上了某座桥从山谷的这边到了那边,从近处看80横贯山谷还是很壮观的。谷底有一条铁路,可以坐火车沿山谷游览,一天也就几趟。旁边有蜿蜒的小河,还有hiking和biking的trail,大概就是这个公园的全部了。虽然并不总是有风景可以看,也有身在其中的乐趣吧。 June 26 Monty站在镜子前的那段关于Fuck的经典台词25th hour 是爱德华.诺顿的经典之作,他站在镜子前有一大段关于fuck的台词更是经典中的经典,是一个飘摇的小人物对即将入狱的恐惧,绝望和憎恨一切的宣泄,真是很痛快。
Monty Brogan: Well, fuck you, too. Fuck me, fuck you, fuck this whole city and everyone in it. Fuck the panhandlers, grubbing for money, and smiling at me behind my back. Fuck the squeegee men dirtying up the clean windshield of my car. Get a fucking job! Fuck the Sikhs and the Pakistanis bombing down the avenues in decrepit cabs, curry steaming out their pores, stinking up my day. Terrorists in fucking training. SLOW THE FUCK DOWN! Fuck the Chelsea boys with their waxed chests and pumped up biceps. Going down on each other in my parks and on my piers, jingling their dicks on my Channel 35. Fuck the Korean grocers with their pyramids of overpriced fruit and their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic. Ten years in the country, still no speaky English? Fuck the Russians in Brighton Beach. Mobster thugs sitting in cafés, sipping tea in little glasses, sugar cubes between their teeth. Wheelin' and dealin' and schemin'. Go back where you fucking came from! Fuck the black-hatted Chassidim, strolling up and down 47th street in their dirty gabardine with their dandruff. Selling South African apartheid diamonds! Fuck the Wall Street brokers. Self-styled masters of the universe. Michael Douglas, Gordon Gekko wannabe mother fuckers, figuring out new ways to rob hard working people blind. Send those Enron assholes to jail for FUCKING LIFE! You think Bush and Cheney didn't know about that shit? Give me a fucking break! Tyco! Worldcom! Fuck the Puerto Ricans. 20 to a car, swelling up the welfare rolls, worst fuckin' parade in the city. And don't even get me started on the Dom-in-i-cans, 'cause they make the Puerto Ricans look good. Fuck the Bensonhurst Italians with their pomaded hair, their nylon warm-up suits, their St. Anthony medallions, swinging their, Jason Giambi, Louisville slugger, baseball bats, trying to audition for the Sopranos. Fuck the Upper East Side wives with their Hermes scarves and their fifty-dollar Balducci artichokes. Overfed faces getting pulled and lifted and stretched, all taut and shiny. You're not fooling anybody, sweetheart! Fuck the uptown brothers. They never pass the ball, they don't want to play defense, they take five steps on every lay-up to the hoop. And then they want to turn around and blame everything on the white man. Slavery ended one hundred and thirty seven years ago. Move the fuck on! Fuck the corrupt cops with their anus violating plungers and their 41 shots, standing behind a blue wall of silence. You betray our trust! Fuck the priests who put their hands down some innocent child's pants. Fuck the church that protects them, delivering us into evil. And while you're at it, fuck JC! He got off easy! A day on the cross, a weekend in hell, and all the hallelujahs of the legioned angels for eternity! Try seven years in fuckin' Otisville, J! Fuck Osama Bin Laden, Al Qaeda, and backward-ass, cave-dwelling, fundamentalist assholes everywhere. On the names of innocent thousands murdered, I pray you spend the rest of eternity with your seventy-two whores roasting in a jet-fuel fire in hell. You towel headed camel jockeys can kiss my royal Irish ass! Fuck Jacob Elinsky, whining malcontent. Fuck Francis Xavier Slaughtery my best friend, judging me while he stares at my girlfriend's ass. Fuck Naturelle Riviera, I gave her my trust and she stabbed me in the back, sold me up the river, fucking bitch. Fuck my father with his endless grief, standing behind that bar sipping on club sodas, selling whisky to firemen, cheering the Bronx bombers. Fuck this whole city and everyone in it. From the row-houses of Astoria to the penthouses on Park Avenue, from the projects in the Bronx to the lofts in Soho. From the tenements in Alphabet City to the brownstones in Park slope to the split-levels in Staten Island. Let an earthquake crumble it, let the fires rage, let it burn to fucking ash and then let the waters rise and submerge this whole rat-infested place. June 25 怀旧意味着变老一位传奇巨星离我们而去。
新人的名字还没有被记住就会被遗忘的现在,经典却在一个个离开。也许有一天会发现满大街充斥的名字,没有一个知道,怀旧变成人生的主题。很无奈,却不得不变老,一步步慢下来,直到自己成为别人的过去。 May 29 程序出错ProteinProspector差不多是实验室里的官方软件,用来预测蛋白酶解的产物和多肽的序列离子,解谱几乎都用这个软件做参考。质谱是相当精确的仪器,预测的数值和实验得到的结果一般误差也就在0.2以下,这个软件用了这么久,从没有怀疑过它的准确性。
这段时间在做phosphopeptide的修饰,因为不是标准的多肽,我需要将修饰的氨基酸残基的元素组成自己输进去,结果昨天一个硼化物修饰的phosphopeptide,怎么算都和我自己预测的质量差了十几。总质量的计算并不复杂,我一般都会自己先算出来,用它来检验程序计算的结果。并不是我不相信程序,只是害怕自己把元素组成输错了而已,然后参照程序计算出的序列离子的m/z来解谱。所以,看到质量不对我的第一反应是把元素组成算错了,我一步步地从未修饰的多肽,到磷酸化的多肽,再到修饰的磷酸化多肽,怎么算都没看出哪错了。为了避免低级错误,连7+6这样的计算都是用计算器按的,折腾了半天还是找不到问题所在。最后实在想不出别的问题了,我按照它提供的总元素组成用另一个专门计算分子量的软件算了一下,得到的数字和我自己算出来的结果一样。这就是说,程序出错了,它甚至都给出了正确的元素组成都计算不出正确的分子量,太令我吃惊了。
我把电脑重启,再算,还是错的。过了一天再试,依然错,这下我彻底相信程序有bug了,浪费了我这么多时间,犯的居然这么低级的错误!
最近超级忙的在做实验,有趣的故事挺多的可惜都太学术了。 April 11 开花的树你听见,土壤萌芽,等待着,满树重新盛开,想起,昨日的芬芳。 你站在这里,迎接又一次绽放,无论随风凋零,因为会有下一个春天。
人其实没有多少个四五年可以度过,转眼在MSU已经四年了。因为冬天的漫长,才格外留恋春天的时光,还有夏天和秋天可以期盼。去年的这个时候,每周走一段长长的路去Berkey Hall上课,草一点一点的绿,阳光越来越温暖。有一天突然看到Olin侧门边一棵玉兰开了,满树洁白,真是让人惊喜。而今年,过着两点一线的生活,也能感受到洋溢不住的春光。总会怀念这记忆中的香。师大的化学楼外是一个小花园,有几棵高大的玉兰树,每到春天洁白似雪,从窗户就可以看见,总是匆匆经过,偶尔驻足,却成了记忆中挥之不去的风景。图书馆前的两架紫藤萝,我们常常在那里看一些有用没用的书,看人来人往,聊着不存在的忧伤。空气中的花香会一直飘散到旁边的芍药园和柿子林,而这一切因为盖楼早已消失,变成一片光秃秃的草坪。我们走着走着,就发现不止我们在改变,周围的一切也会变。一棵开花的树,会停驻在我们流逝的年华里。 |
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