Thursday, August 2, 2012

Olympics Afterthoughts

Yesterday, Feng Tianwei won a Bronze medal in the Table-Tennis Women's Singles. Singapore's first individual medal since the 60s. Tuned in just in time to watch the match point.... Was really really happy for her! Singapore really deserved it too. 4th place for the last 3 Olympics (Jing Junhong at Sydney, Lee Jiawei at Athens AND Beijing)... It's about time :)!

Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, news of her win was followed with rubbish comments on sg.yahoo... The usual stuff on "imported talent", China Team B, wasting tax-payers money, nothing to be proud of etc (http://sg.news.yahoo.com/a-bronze-medal--but-at-what-cost-for-singapore-.html). To be fair, I've been guilty of jumping on this bandwagon in the past... So I am in no position to judge, and I won't. Somehow my views on this, and the issue on FTs in general has "evolved" (as have my views on same-sex marriage, reference to Obama) significantly in the past 4 years. Maybe, when you become a minority, you become a lot more sensitive to minorities in general.

In any case,  I was genuinely and profoundly affected by the comments. Perhaps even more so than at the xenophobic backlash in response to the "Ferrari" incident, though that was pretty disturbing too. Singaporeans accuse Tianwei (and her predecessors) of not being Singaporean, not inducted the ways of Singaporean life, and therefore, not fit to represent Singapore. But really, say if she really did try to BE Singaporean...if she did love this country who gave her a second life, a better one, would "we" really give her chance? Or would "we" just raise the bar again... saying things like "oh, she doesn't speak Singlish". BTW, Singlish is a REALLY difficult language to learn if you didn't grow up in Singapore. There's no Singlish textbook, and certainly no Singlish lessons. More importantly, if you speak English/Chinese, people understand you so there's really no impetus to pick up the idiosyncrasies that differentiate Singlish from it's two main parent languages. We take it for granted because it's become second nature to us. I count Singlish as my first language actually.

Anyway, I digress. On some level, I really do think Tianwei loves Singapore, at the very least, she would be grateful. I know if I were in her position, I would be, regardless of my country of birth. But then again, it's kind of hard to love a country where a significant portion of the population thinks you don't belong? But say she did, would the average Singaporean accept her? I really doubt it, not at the rate things are going.

Perhaps this is something unique to sports, that it's unethical to "buy" imported sports talent. But really, I don't think my current reaction pertains solely to Singaporean attitudes to sportsman, but rather it's relevant to Singaporean attitude to foreigners in general. Just look at the Singapore IBO and IMO team... best performance in years... and instead of congratulating them... the first thing people noticed and commented on was that their names sounded PRC?! For the record, only Singaporeans and Singaporean PRs can represent Singapore at International Olympiads.... Which means that these competitors were probably Singaporean, or at the very least, foreigners who came to Singapore at a very young age... So unless your definition of Singaporean is incredibly warped (which it might be), I would say that they are Singaporeans.

Why am I getting so personal? Maybe this negative reaction stems from fear, a personal fear. Now I am the foreigner. I am the FOB who's here to "steal" your academic awards in college, your jobs after college, and welfare benefits after retirement. I remember the days when I used to complain how the Chinese scholars dominated school rankings (I repent). Oh, how the tables have turned. Now I am afraid, I'm afraid that no matter what I do or not do, I'll never be accepted in this society. Because I am well, different. I speak with a strange accent (which I have neither the ability nor the desire to change); I will always dislike steak and hamburgers (even less desire to change that); and I'll always prefer Jay Chou to Jay-Z.

If we were to apply Jeffery Oon's definition of true-blue Singaporean, I will never be considered American. So, of course, I am afraid. Because for all the problems with American politics (and on some level, religion)... I think I'm starting to really like this country. I want to stay here after graduation and yes, I do want my kids to grow up here. But what if I'm never socially accepted?

Yet, I am hopeful. I am optimistic. Yes, there have been pockets of discrimination, and times where I've felt so different from those around me that I ask myself what the hell am I doing here. But you know what, not once have I ever felt the strong and focal contempt against foreigners that I now sense in Singapore? Granted, I've been living in a bubble in the past 3 years. When I do look outside the bubble,  discrimination and prejudice are not all that uncommon. But every time there had been a racist or nationalist outburst against foreigners or immigrants, there had been an equal and opposite voice condemning it. And that gives me hope. As do the people who clamor for the passing for the dream act, or those whose relentless effort have made same-sex marriage possible. That's the second time I brought same-sex marriage up, and no I am not gay. Neither was Jeff Bezos. At least in this country, I know that there are people who would stand up for the concept of equality and fairness. Such things give me hope. And honestly, I think I have more hope of being accepted as a first-gen American than a Singaporean who didn't serve NS.

Every year, at Princeton Reunions, I see a concise summary of American history post 1900s.
First come the Old Guard - White Males and their spouses (usually with a dog too)
Then the African-Americans.
Then the Women.
Then the Asians.

I've always wondered, what do the Old White People think about the radical change in our school demography? Were they angry, that their legacy was being tainted by the influx of Asians and Asian-Americans?  Maybe they are some who hold this view. But by and large, I sense no discontent. If anything, they are the nicest bunch of old people I've met. Pass by them during P-rade and they won't hesitate to give you a high-five... Sure, Princeton Alums are hardly representative of 99% of the American population... but you know what, I choose to be gullible and naive. Because those high-fives give me hope. And hope keeps me going.

Back to same issue in Singapore. My attitude reversal towards foreigners might have stemmed more from fear than from actual maturity. So I claim no moral high-ground, but I do implore Singaporeans to try putting their feet in the shoes of foreigners. Give them a chance.

I typed this all at one go. There's more I had wanted to say but my eyes are tired. Apologies that the second part of the post is a lot less coherent and well thought-out. And I should really go back to my simulations. Need to work hard, so that I can ACTUALLY stay here after graduation :p!

PS. Lee Chong Wei made it through to the semis! Malaysia Boleh!
PPS. 丹麦不老神童 Peter Gade crashed out.... Sighs :(!

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Darkness of Hell and of a night deprived
of every planet, under meager skies,
as overcast by clouds as sky can be,

had never served to veil my eyes so thickly
nor covered them with such rough-textured stuff
as smoke that wrapped us there in Purgatory;

my eyes could not endure remaining open

- Purgatorio, Canto XVI, Lines 1-7, Mandelbaum translation

Saturday, July 7, 2012

Once

Wow...it's been such a long time since I last blogged... Haha then again, I only blog when I have some thoughts or feelings I wanna archive... and I haven't felt that way for a while..

So ya, the movie Once.. awesome movie, amazing soundtrack... Watched it alone in Green Hall (on the screen Uri gave/lent(?) me). It might be the best "love-themed" movie I've seen in a while.

I guess it resonates with my own thoughts on love... It was everything that a typical american movie wasn't, and thus so much more realistic. No sex, no memorable quotes to sweep you off your feet, no deux ex machina to rescue our protagonists, no happy ending...

Once is a movie where love does not triumph over all, where we have other responsibilities, where we have to take ownership of our past mistakes, where we have other dreams and ambitions besides looking for "the one", where we don't always end up with the person we love the most (and we can still be happy)...

When I watch movies like the Notebook and Serendipity, I think "how can people be so irresponsible?!" When I watched Once, I think "well, that's unfortunate, but I wouldn't have done things any differently". There were so many ways Once could have become a typical movie - one Hollywood would produce. Arranged in levels of increasingly levels of typicalness. 

1) Guy decides to stay in Ireland to be with Girl. They start some music school together (Ending typical of a Korean drama)

2) Guy and Girl decide to go to London together to pursue a music career - to give it a go, so as to speak (Ending typical of Hollywood)

3) Guy gets signed by some record label, Guy returns to Girl successful, Guy, Girl and Daughter live happily ever after (Ending typical of Singaporean local production)

But neither of these happen. 

Instead, Guy goes to London to pursue his music career (and his ex-girlfriend). Girl reunites with her pseudo-ex-husband and stays in Ireland with her mother and daughter. In the real world, that would have been the most likely outcome. Our life decisions are not just governed by love... On one hand, we have goals, dreams and ambition; On the other, we have responsibilities, uncertainties and insecurities. Somewhere along the spectrum, love comes into the picture. It is most definitely not the whole picture, as is often portrayed in movies like Serendipity and the Notebook.

We don't know what happens to Guy or Girl hence-after. They probably continued to live their normal existence, just as they've had. Maybe every now and then, they would look back and reminisce, how Once, a long a time ago, there was this guy/girl...




Sunday, July 1, 2012

The ‘Busy’ Trap


If you live in America in the 21st century you’ve probably had to listen to a lot of people tell you how busy they are. It’s become the default response when you ask anyone how they’re doing: “Busy!” “So busy.” “Crazy busy.” It is, pretty obviously, a boast disguised as a complaint. And the stock response is a kind of congratulation: “That’s a good problem to have,” or “Better than the opposite.”
It’s not as if any of us wants to live like this; it’s something we collectively force one another to do.
Notice it isn’t generally people pulling back-to-back shifts in the I.C.U. or commuting by bus to three minimum-wage jobs  who tell you how busy they are; what those people are is not busy but tired. Exhausted. Dead on their feet. It’s almost always people whose lamented busyness is purely self-imposed: work and obligations they’ve taken on voluntarily, classes and activities they’ve “encouraged” their kids to participate in. They’re busy because of their own ambition or drive or anxiety, because they’re addicted to busyness and dread what they might have to face in its absence.

Almost everyone I know is busy. They feel anxious and guilty when they aren’t either working or doing something to promote their work. They schedule in time with friends the way students with 4.0 G.P.A.’s  make sure to sign up for community service because it looks good on their college applications. I recently wrote a friend to ask if he wanted to do something this week, and he answered that he didn’t have a lot of time but if something was going on to let him know and maybe he could ditch work for a few hours. I wanted to clarify that my question had not been a preliminary heads-up to some future invitation; this was the invitation. But his busyness was like some vast churning noise through which he was shouting out at me, and I gave up trying to shout back over it.
Brecht Vandenbroucke
Even children are busy now, scheduled down to the half-hour with classes and extracurricular activities. They come home at the end of the day as tired as grown-ups. I was a member of the latchkey generation and had three hours of totally unstructured, largely unsupervised time every afternoon, time I used to do everything from surfing the World Book Encyclopedia to making animated films to getting together with friends in the woods to chuck dirt clods directly into one another’s eyes, all of which provided me with important skills and insights that remain valuable to this day. Those free hours became the model for how I wanted to live the rest of my life.
The present hysteria is not a necessary or inevitable condition of life; it’s something we’ve chosen, if only by our acquiescence to it. Not long ago I  Skyped with a friend who was driven out of the city by high rent and now has an artist’s residency in a small town in the south of France. She described herself as happy and relaxed for the first time in years. She still gets her work done, but it doesn’t consume her entire day and brain. She says it feels like college — she has a big circle of friends who all go out to the cafe together every night. She has a boyfriend again. (She once ruefully summarized dating in New York: “Everyone’s too busy and everyone thinks they can do better.”) What she had mistakenly assumed was her personality — driven, cranky, anxious and sad — turned out to be a deformative effect of her environment. It’s not as if any of us wants to live like this, any more than any one person wants to be part of a traffic jam or stadium trampling or the hierarchy of cruelty in high school — it’s something we collectively force one another to do.
Our frantic days are really just a hedge against emptiness.
Busyness serves as a kind of existential reassurance, a hedge against emptiness; obviously your life cannot possibly be silly or trivial or meaningless if you are so busy, completely booked, in demand every hour of the day. I once knew a woman who interned at a magazine where she wasn’t allowed to take lunch hours out, lest she be urgently needed for some reason. This was an entertainment magazine whose raison d’être was obviated when “menu” buttons appeared on remotes, so it’s hard to see this pretense of indispensability as anything other than a form of institutional self-delusion. More and more people in this country no longer make or do anything tangible; if your job wasn’t performed by a cat or a boa constrictor in a Richard Scarry book I’m not sure I believe it’s necessary. I can’t help but wonder whether all this histrionic exhaustion isn’t a way of covering up the fact that most of what we do doesn’t matter.
I am not busy. I am the laziest ambitious person I know. Like most writers, I feel like a reprobate who does not deserve to live on any day that I do not write, but I also feel that four or five hours is enough to earn my stay on the planet for one more day. On the best ordinary days of my life, I write in the morning, go for a long bike ride and run errands in the afternoon, and in the evening I see friends, read or watch a movie. This, it seems to me, is a sane and pleasant pace for a day. And if you call me up and ask whether I won’t maybe blow off work and check out the new American Wing at the Met or ogle girls in Central Park or just drink chilled pink minty cocktails all day long, I will say, what time?
But just in the last few months, I’ve insidiously started, because of professional obligations, to become busy. For the first time I was able to tell people, with a straight face, that I was “too busy” to do this or that thing they wanted me to do. I could see why people enjoy this complaint; it makes you feel important, sought-after and put-upon. Except that I hate actually being busy. Every morning my in-box was full of e-mails asking me to do things I did not want to do or presenting me with problems that I now had to solve. It got more and more intolerable until finally I fled town to the Undisclosed Location from which I’m writing this.
Here I am largely unmolested by obligations. There is no TV. To check e-mail I have to drive to the library. I go a week at a time without seeing anyone I know. I’ve remembered about buttercups, stink bugs and the stars. I read. And I’m finally getting some real writing done for the first time in months. It’s hard to find anything to say about life without immersing yourself in the world, but it’s also just about impossible to figure out what it might be, or how best to say it, without getting the hell out of it again.
RELATED
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Read previous contributions to this series.
Idleness is not just a vacation, an indulgence or a vice; it is as indispensable to the brain as vitamin D is to the body, and deprived of it we suffer a mental affliction as disfiguring as rickets. The space and quiet that idleness provides is a necessary condition for standing back from life and seeing it whole, for making unexpected connections and waiting for the wild summer lightning strikes of inspiration — it is, paradoxically, necessary to getting any work done. “Idle dreaming is often of the essence of what we do,” wrote Thomas Pynchon in his essay on sloth. Archimedes’ “Eureka” in the bath, Newton’s apple, Jekyll & Hyde and the benzene ring: history is full of stories of inspirations that come in idle moments and dreams. It almost makes you wonder whether loafers, goldbricks and no-accounts aren’t responsible for more of the world’s great ideas, inventions and masterpieces than the hardworking.
“The goal of the future is full unemployment, so we can play. That’s why we have to destroy the present politico-economic system.” This may sound like the pronouncement of some bong-smoking anarchist, but it was actually Arthur C. Clarke, who found time between scuba diving and pinball games to write “Childhood’s End” and think up communications satellites. My old colleague Ted Rall recently wrote a column proposing that we divorce income from work and give each citizen a guaranteed paycheck, which sounds like the kind of lunatic notion that’ll be considered a basic human right in about a century, like abolition, universal suffrage and eight-hour workdays. The Puritans turned work into a virtue, evidently forgetting that God invented it as a punishment.
Perhaps the world would soon slide to ruin if everyone behaved as I do. But I would suggest that an ideal human life lies somewhere between my own defiant indolence and the rest of the world’s endless frenetic hustle. My role is just to be a bad influence, the kid standing outside the classroom window making faces at you at your desk, urging you to just this once make some excuse and get out of there, come outside and play. My own resolute idleness has mostly been a luxury rather than a virtue, but I did make a conscious decision, a long time ago, to choose time over money, since I’ve always understood that the best investment of my limited time on earth was to spend it with people I love. I suppose it’s possible I’ll lie on my deathbed regretting that I didn’t work harder and say everything I had to say, but I think what I’ll really wish is that I could have one more beer with Chris, another long talk with Megan, one last good hard laugh with Boyd. Life is too short to be busy.

Sunday, May 6, 2012

10 easy ways to fail a Ph.D.


From: http://matt.might.net/articles/ways-to-fail-a-phd/

Focus on grades or coursework

No one cares about grades in grad school.
There's a simple formula for the optimal GPA in grad school:

Optimal GPA = Minimum Required GPA + ε

Anything higher implies time that could have been spent on research was wasted on classes. Advisors might even raise an eyebrow at a 4.0
During the first two years, students need to find an advisor, pick a research area, read a lot of papers and try small, exploratory research projects. Spending too much time on coursework distracts from these objectives.

Learn too much

Some students go to Ph.D. school because they want to learn.
Let there be no mistake: Ph.D. school involves a lot of learning.
But, it requires focused learning directed toward an eventual thesis.
Taking (or sitting in on) non-required classes outside one's focus is almost always a waste of time, and it's always unnecessary.
By the end of the third year, a typical Ph.D. student needs to have read about 50 to 150 papers to defend the novelty of a proposed thesis.
Of course, some students go too far with the related work search, reading so much about their intended area of research that they never start that research.
Advisors will lose patience with "eternal" students that aren't focused on the goal--making a small but significant contribution to human knowledge.
In the interest of personal disclosure, I suffered from the "want to learn everything" bug when I got to Ph.D. school.
I took classes all over campus for my first two years: Arabic, linguistics, economics, physics, math and even philosophy. In computer science, I took lots of classes in areas that had nothing to do with my research.
The price of all this "enlightenment" was an extra year on my Ph.D.
I only got away with this detour because while I was doing all that, I was a TA, which meant I wasn't wasting my advisor's grant funding.

Expect perfection

Perfectionism is a tragic affliction in academia, since it tends to hit the brightest the hardest.
Perfection cannot be attained. It is approached in the limit.
Students that polish a research paper well past the point of diminishing returns, expecting to hit perfection, will never stop polishing.
Students that can't begin to write until they have the perfect structure of the paper mapped out will never get started.
For students with problems starting on a paper or dissertation, my advice is that writing a paper should be an iterative process: start with an outline and some rough notes; take a pass over the paper and improve it a little; rinse; repeat. When the paper changes little with each pass, it's at diminishing returns. One or two more passes over the paper are all it needs at that point.
"Good enough" is better than "perfect."

Procrastinate

Chronic perfectionists also tend to be procrastinators.
So do eternal students with a drive to learn instead of research.
Ph.D. school seems to be a magnet for every kind of procrastinator.
Unfortunately, it is also a sieve that weeds out the unproductive.
Procrastinators should check out my tips for boosting productivity.

Go rogue too soon/too late

The advisor-advisee dynamic needs to shift over the course of a degree.
Early on, the advisor should be hands on, doling out specific topics and helping to craft early papers.
Toward the end, the student should know more than the advisor about her topic. Once the inversion happens, she needs to "go rogue" and start choosing the topics to investigate and initiating the paper write-ups. She needs to do so even if her advisor is insisting she do something else.
The trick is getting the timing right.
Going rogue before the student knows how to choose good topics and write well will end in wasted paper submissions and a grumpy advisor.
On the other hand, continuing to act only when ordered to act past a certain point will strain an advisor that expects to start seeing a "return" on an investment of time and hard-won grant money.
Advisors expect near-terminal Ph.D. students to be proto-professors with intimate knowledge of the challenges in their field. They should be capable of selecting and attacking research problems of appropriate size and scope.

Treat Ph.D. school like school or work

Ph.D. school is neither school nor work.
Ph.D. school is a monastic experience. And, a jealous hobby.
Solving problems and writing up papers well enough to pass peer review demands contemplative labor on days, nights and weekends.
Reading through all of the related work takes biblical levels of devotion.
Ph.D. school even comes with built-in vows of poverty and obedience.
The end brings an ecclesiastical robe and a clerical hood.
Students that treat Ph.D. school like a 9-5 endeavor are the ones that take 7+ years to finish, or end up ABD.

Ignore the committee

Some Ph.D. students forget that a committee has to sign off on their Ph.D.
It's important for students to maintain contact with committee members in the latter years of a Ph.D. They need to know what a student is doing.
It's also easy to forget advice from a committee member since they're not an everyday presence like an advisor.
Committee members, however, rarely forget the advice they give.
It doesn't usually happen, but I've seen a shouting match between a committee member and a defender where they disagreed over the metrics used for evaluation of an experiment. This committee member warned the student at his proposal about his choice of metrics.
He ignored that warning.
He was lucky: it added only one more semester to his Ph.D.
Another student I knew in grad school was told not to defend, based on the draft of his dissertation. He overruled his committee's advice, and failed his defense. He was told to scrap his entire dissertaton and start over. It took him over ten years to finish his Ph.D.

Aim too low

Some students look at the weakest student to get a Ph.D. in their department and aim for that.
This attitude guarantees that no professorship will be waiting for them.
And, it all but promises failure.
The weakest Ph.D. to escape was probably repeatedly unlucky with research topics, and had to settle for a contingency plan.
Aiming low leaves no room for uncertainty.
And, research is always uncertain.

Aim too high

A Ph.D. seems like a major undertaking from the perspective of the student.
It is.
But, it is not the final undertaking. It's the start of a scientific career.
A Ph.D. does not have to cure cancer or enable cold fusion.
At best a handful of chemists remember what Einstein's Ph.D. was in.
Einstein's Ph.D. dissertation was a principled calculation meant to estimate Avogadro's number. He got it wrong. By a factor of 3.
He still got a Ph.D.
A Ph.D. is a small but significant contribution to human knowledge.
Impact is something students should aim for over a lifetime of research.
Making a big impact with a Ph.D. is about as likely as hitting a bullseye the very first time you've fired a gun.
Once you know how to shoot, you can keep shooting until you hit it.
Plus, with a Ph.D., you get a lifetime supply of ammo.
Some advisors can give you a list of potential research topics. If they can, pick the topic that's easiest to do but which still retains your interest.
It does not matter at all what you get your Ph.D. in.
All that matters is that you get one.
It's the training that counts--not the topic.

Miss the real milestones

Most schools require coursework, qualifiers, thesis proposal, thesis defense and dissertation. These are the requirements on paper.
In practice, the real milestones are three good publications connected by a (perhaps loosely) unified theme.
Coursework and qualifiers are meant to undo admissions mistakes. A student that has published by the time she takes her qualifiers is not a mistake.
Once a student has two good publications, if she convinces her committee that she can extrapolate a third, she has a thesis proposal.
Once a student has three publications, she has defended, with reasonable confidence, that she can repeatedly conduct research of sufficient quality to meet the standards of peer review. If she draws a unifying theme, she has a thesis, and if she staples her publications together, she has a dissertation.
I fantasize about buying an industrial-grade stapler capable of punching through three journal papers and calling it The Dissertator.
Of course, three publications is nowhere near enough to get a professorship--even at a crappy school. But, it's about enough to get a Ph.D.

Friday, December 9, 2011

Social Cognitive Neuroscience


The brain is a world consisting of a number of unexplored continents and great stretches of unknown territory.... To know the brain is equivalent to ascertaining the material course of thought and will, to discovering the intimate history of life in its perpetual duel with external forces.
- Santiago Ramón y Cajal
            By Ramon y Cajal’s criteria, we hardly know the brain at all. Despite seventy years having passed, there remains much to be explored. How do we understand, perceive, and represent other people? How do we learn to trust and grow to love?  Why is loneliness painful and helping others rewarding? Considering our intensely social nature, our modest understanding of the underpinnings of the social mind is a glaring gap in our knowledge. This is a gap which the emerging field of social cognitive neuroscience (SCN) hopes to fill (Adolphs, 2003). SCN refers to the study of the neural mechanisms underlying social cognition. It is an interdisciplinary field that draws on methods from the more established traditions of social psychology and cognitive neuroscience (Ochsner, 2007; Ochsner & Lieberman, 2001). While in the past, SCN have been largely limited to lesion studies and pharmacological manipulations,  methods such as functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) now allow for the non-invasive measurement of brain activation with reasonable spatial resolution. Of particular interest is the recently developed technique of hyperscanning, a method by which multiple subjects are simultaneously scanned while engaging in mutual social interactions (Montague et el., 2002). Such techniques provide a better approximation to real life in SCN studies, and hold great promise in furthering our understanding of the neural basis of social behavior (Adolphs, 2003).
            The addition of techniques such as fMRI and hyperscanning to the toolbox of the social cognitive neuroscientist has generated much deserved excitement in the field. However, social cognitive neuroscientists would do well to be mindful of the caveats associated with SCN. As with any interdisciplinary work, relative non-expertise in one domain may leave experts in another to misinterpret data to reach unwarranted conclusions. This is especially dangerous in SCN, where many investigators are trained primarily in one of SCNs two parent disciplines (Dovidio, Pearson & Orr, 2008). Investigators in the field should recognize that giving a social psychologist an fMRI scanner does not necessarily make good social cognitive neuroscience. Similarly, social cognitive neuroscience is more than merely adding social stimuli into cognitive neuroscience paradigms. Neither is it an exercise of brain mapping, where we try to associate certain brain areas with certain cognitive processes. What then, might be a good way to approach SCN?  This paper proposes three assumptions and goals that it hopes will guide SCN studies.
Three assumptions:
1.     Social cognition has a firm neuroanatomical basis. (Dunbar & Shultz, 2007; Van Overwalle, 2009)
2.     Social cognition is driven not only by specific social stimuli, but also social contexts and situations. (Lieberman, 2005)
3.     Good theories should find supporting evidence in both social psychology and cognitive neuroscience (Ochsner, 2007)
Three goals:
1.     Design experiments informed by past findings in social psychology and cognitive neuroscience
2.     Search for converging evidence from neurological data as well as behavioral results
3.     Formulate theories that address underlying processes rather than brain areas involved in social cognition

Friday, June 10, 2011


桥的一端是过去
另一端是未来
我走到桥的中央, 却看不到现在

仰望,憧憬着美好的未来
赫然回首,却留恋于过去的温馨
未来与过去不停地拉扯,我终需
何去何从,不能永上徘徊

往前走
不再停下脚步
时不时回头,却惊觉原来的路
以悄悄地被浓雾笼罩着
模糊不清

一天,我会走到
透着浓雾凝望隔岸的风景
心里又会是什么滋味呢

那隐约可见的灯火、人影、高楼
似曾熟悉,却又无比陌生
犹如昨夜的梦境

有那么一天
我会踏着原来的路走回去
浓雾散去
我看到的,又会是什么?