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This year feels special. A good proportion of people from different faith traditions are fasting around the same time, which happens once in 33 years! There is something beautiful about that shared discipline. Ramadan, for me, is more than decorations, iftar gatherings, self-discovery, and celebrating identity. It is also a time to quiet something else — what many now call “food noise.” What Is Food Noise? Recently, I had a thoughtful conversation with my healthcare provider. She gently asked questions about my relationship with food and how I respond to impulses in my body. After reflecting, I realized something uncomfortable but true: Food occupies a loud space in my mind. Here’s what food noise can sound like: You’re at a dinner party. Chocolate cake with strawberries is served. Your brain begins: “That looks amazing… but I’m out of calories. Wait — strawberries are healthy. Maybe just the strawberries. But what about the glaze? Is that dark chocolate? Dark chocolate is healthy… Maybe I can take it home and portion it…Who am I kidding? I’ll eat it all.” Endless negotiation. Math. Strategy. Justification. If this sounds familiar, you know what food noise is . What I Learned from Reading Around the same time, I bought five bestselling books about obesity. I’ve finished 3.5 so far. What struck me most is this: For many people, food does not create this internal negotiation. Hunger and fullness cues are relatively quiet and self-regulated. That difference is not about morality or willpower. It is biology. We know this now, because patients report that after they start taking the new obesity medications, this whole speech bubble goes "pufff" . It is gone. They can focus on goals, activities, learn an instrument, plan a hike and so on, without constantly battling with their own brains. Once the loop of food noise is turned on, until it is controlled (mentally) or gone (with medications), no matter how much willpower we have, the cycle of gaining and losing weight just repeats. 📘 The Obesity Code  — Dr. Jason Fung This book reviews historical diet experiments and proposes a hormonal model of obesity — emphasizing insulin’s role. The central argument: Chronic high insulin levels may contribute to insulin resistance and weight gain. The tone can feel sobering — many diets “work” short-term and then fail long-term. His proposed solution centers on: Reducing refined carbohydrates Avoiding constant snacking Intermittent fasting 📘 How to Lose Weight for the Last Time  — Dr. Katrina Ubell This book is different in tone — deeply psychological. If I were to frame any sentence in the book it would be: "I stopped eating for emotional reasons." Dr. Ubell focuses on: Recognizing food noise Observing urges without reacting Building metacognitive awareness Choosing small sustainable habits I chose: Journaling food and weight Eliminating sugar and flour Plan your next day the night before The journaling has been eye-opening. 📘 Enough  (GLP-1 Perspective) by Dr. Ania Jastreboff This book discusses modern GLP-1 receptor medications and includes powerful anecdotes — including stories from Oprah. One that struck me: Intense exercise + severe calorie restriction did not produce weight loss. This reinforces a critical point: Obesity is a chronic metabolic condition — not a character flaw. Genetics, Evolution, and Environment We often blame genetics. But the rapid rise in obesity since the 1970s suggests environmental and hormonal factors play major roles. There is research showing: Maternal metabolic state during pregnancy influences offspring risk. Early hormonal exposure may affect long-term regulation. This is complex, multifactorial science — not simple inheritance. One Common Theme Across All Books Stop constant snacking. Three meals + three snacks keeps insulin elevated most of the day. Reducing eating frequency may allow hormonal cycles to normalize. That was another eye-opener for me. A Ramadan Reflection Fasting interrupts food noise; maybe by creating separated insulin peaks. It creates space between impulse and action. Certain foods, like sugar, flour, starchy vegetables like potatoes, processed foods, can create special urges in the brain. If not controlled leads to over eating by numbing the centers that control hunger and satiety. One prevention is to recognize such food and just quit them. Another is to control the response in the brain, which is harder: When an urge rises, you let it pass. The wave comes.The wave goes. You remain. If these two sound like they may not work another suggestion is spiritual control. The book Sugar Fast for 40 days gives strategies from the spiritual Christian perspective. Whether your framework is scientific or spiritual — both paths acknowledge the same truth: Awareness changes behavior. A Final Thought In 2026, we are not helpless. We have: Behavioral tools Psychological insight Hormonal understanding Medications that work for many people Obesity, like diabetes or hypertension, often requires long-term management. Perhaps one day, we will understand prevention even better. Until then, if you notice food noise, pause. Name it. Let the wave pass. 🌙 Ramadan Mubarak.🙏 Peace to those observing Lent.🧧 Joy to those celebrating the Lunar New Year.

Hola, indeed, after a long time! I intended to write about my experience in Cancun, Mexico—hoping to paint a picture for curious minds and to amplify my internal gratitude. But before the beaches and crazy bus drivers, let’s reflect on my first semester teaching at VCU. I should probably admit that I had a lot of head scratching the first two weeks. The type of scratching that peels off the crust of a pimple that just healed. My anxiety and scratching gradually settled down to a manageable routine. Without the gracious and deep support from my fellow bioinformatics professors in SLSS, I would not have figured out a way to float this soon. Teaching bioinformatics is inherently different from the “same old” molecular and cellular biology lectures that I was used to giving. Being a visual learner myself, just looking at text and talking over text for long was different. I could not resist adding pictures to my Jupyter notebooks. Next challenge was: how can I still sing and make games about blocks of code? Well, we managed! As we kicked off the semester, I sang with the Take Down melody: “You are gonna be the master of Python coding… How can you sleep or live with yourself without knowing a line of Python coding?” Later, explaining how infinite loops work, we sang “I am unstoppable, I am Porsche with no breaks.” This gave me a chance to explain the break keyword in Python. Then, when we talked about try-except blocks, we sang “We can’t fix it if we never face it.” You could probably notice how I became a fan of Huntrix in the meantime. Teaching Bioethics was a whole new thing. We discussed several bioethics concepts: truth-telling, autonomy, confidentiality, beneficence, who gets to make a decision, who is impacted, how many layers of complications exist here, and how we even tease them apart. Ethics of stem cells, embryos, and embryo manipulation with the advances in gene editing have been dense topics. To empathize with a couple going through similar debates, we had a role play describing the decision-making process for donating frozen embryos for research. We were fortunate to have a field trip to University of Richmond. Dr. Jessica Flanigan was our kind host and gave us a speed lecture with active learning. The students had to move to the side of the room when they agreed or disagreed with an idea. Inside the classrooms, the group discussions and deep, thoughtful communications were the backbone of the course. Now that the semester is almost over, I am excited to plan for 301 and 420 courses coming up next. But for now, back to Cancun. We only stayed for 5 days at the Royal Cancun. What I liked most about Cancun was that it was very similar to Antalya, my hometown. The beach view is stunning, and there are so many opportunities to have fun on the sand, in a pool, on a canoe, or on a Captain Hook–styled party ship. The way you spend your time will depend on your intention. There are many luxury shopping malls and stores as well as a flea market where you would need to negotiate hard. The all-inclusive nature of the hotel is very humbling. I almost always wanted to pay for the dinner, but they kept saying, “All included.” Mexicans are very much like Turkish people: forgiving, generous, hospitable, and in a rush in traffic. We took the city buses to see around, and I kept telling my kids, this is the same as riding a bus in Turkiye. The roads are narrower, the buses are faster, and they even drive with the door open while a lady who just got on tries to get coins out of her purse while holding onto nothing. Mexicans are also very much into music and dances. The show at the Xcaret park rightfully demonstrated Mexican history and how they embraced Christianity while preserving the Mayan culture. I guess I am trying to put together in my head two very different experiences. If you decide to go to Cancun for a vacation, or jump into the unknown waters of the coding world, you are not alone! Each new thing is scary at first, and all initiatives are unsettling. Be courageous to take the first step, soon you will notice that the second step is actually not as difficult as the first one. Let’s wait and see what the next semester will bring. Until then, adios amigos!

I wanted to share a bit of exciting news—this fall, I’ll be joining Virginia Commonwealth University as an Assistant Professor of Bioinformatics. 🎉 I’ll be mostly teaching bioinformatics and continuing my research and collaboration efforts 🙏 My curiosity for bioinformatics first bloomed during my postdoc, when I found myself deep in single-cell RNA-seq. I remember puzzling over UMAP: how could something be “not wrong,” and also “not correct”? That question pulled me into the math, the statistics, the structure beneath the surface. I’m still learning—and that, to me, is the best part of this journey . I hope this new chapter will help me keep growing—and maybe even spill over enough to water other sprouts nearby. We will be super courageous and tough learners! 💪 I’m incredibly grateful for the warm welcome from Dr. Rima Franklin, and to the search committee: Dr. Allison Johnson, Dr. Andrew Sackman, and Dr. LaMont Cannon—thank you for this opportunity. To all my mentors—thank you for lighting the path. To my students and my family—thank you for making it all meaningful. Here we go. 🌿💻💻💻 hashtag#newbeginnings   hashtag#bioinformatics   hashtag#academia   hashtag#grateful   hashtag#alwayslearning

Today is my second (or maybe third?) day with a sore throat and strep infection. I’m having a hard time swallowing and speaking. I had meant to study and make progress on my collaborative projects or coursework—but then I remembered I still needed to write my London reflections. Before we get to London, though, I should share something closer to home: we now have a flock of parakeets . A total of five babies have hatched, and there are more eggs being kept warm under their mama. Their names so far are Pamuk  (Cotton), Şeker  (Candy), Bulut  (Cloud), Umut  (Hope), and—hmm—I seem to be blanking on the fifth name. Watching parakeet eggs hatch and seeing how those fragile, unformed bodies turn into delicate, pretty birds has been unexpectedly moving. Human babies are also most vulnerable as newborns—yet somehow, also the cutest. There’s something timeless about the merhamet  (compassion) that arises from vulnerability. I’ll let you think a bit more about birds and compassion, while I return to my London reflections. ------- We stayed in London for five days, in a hotel that—later we learned—was near a hub where many Turkish people live. My first impression of London was that rules are taken very seriously . Everyone seemed careful, cautious—even slightly afraid—of tickets, rules, and maybe even undercover police. My second impression was how cosmopolitan it felt. I kept wondering, Where are the original Londoners?  Maybe they moved out, or maybe they came to the U.S.? I saw more visibly Muslim women (in full hijab) than I was used to seeing even in Antalya. Later, we learned that many immigrant communities have their own sections: Pakistani, Turkish, Arab, and so on. The iconic double-decker bus ride  was fun, and seeing the city from the London Eye  was also pleasing—although my eyes kept searching for the blue-green waters of Istanbul. Instead, the Thames was a muddy brown. As we were rushing to make to our London Eye ticket time, we walked by the Big Bang and quickly snapped some photos. We did not have a chance to get to the Buckingham Palace. Londoners, I noticed, weren’t particularly into fashion or looking chic, but they were definitely into musicals and shows . On a boat tour, we were told there’s even a “stand-up” show where you literally stand to watch. Every corner seemed to be a theater—unlike Paris, where every corner was a boulangerie. Londoners also seemed less fit  than Parisians. You can easily spot “American-like” people in London, too. Maybe one culprit is the widespread fish and chips  culture. Even our hotel check-in came with a massive chocolate chip cookie. The label said “2000 calories are recommended for adults.” I’m sorry—but if I eat 2000 calories every day, I’ll get very chunky. We explored Oxford Street , and found a TK Maxx  (which is the UK version of TJ Maxx). My daughter was thrilled to find two dresses. My husband met up with his friends, and one of them took us to a fancy restaurant called Mantl . Afterwards, we had desserts at Hafiz Mustafa 1864 , a Turkish sweet shop with a long family history—and the flavors to prove it. Normally I wouldn’t go to such places, but since my husband’s friend paid, I was more than okay :) We visited Hyde Park  and a few famous museums. But toward the end of our trip, we all started getting sick—one by one. It’s hard to enjoy a vacation when someone is always feeling unwell. That said, the boat tour  gave us lovely views of the Tower Bridge , which turned out to be far more impressive than the London Bridge  (yes, the one from the nursery rhyme). We also went up to the Sky Garden  to see the city from above and enjoy the greenery—but by then, I was very tired and sick. One small highlight that brought me genuine joy: I found a lemon squeezer made in Turkey . The shop was full of colorful plastic items I remembered from my childhood. Shopping with my mom in Antalya’s open bazaars, I loved seeing the legen  (wide basins), the gırgır  (crumb sweepers), and the colorful tuzluk  (salt shakers). My version of window shopping as a child was watching my mom ask the seller, “How much is this?” and hoping we’d bring something home. On our last night, we walked by a Canal near our hotel and discovered the boathouses —homes floating right on the water. That was a first for me. There was also a splashing water park  at the end of the walk, where the water danced as if dancing to music in bursts and sprays. London probably has much more to offer, but we aren’t yet the type of family to sit through a full musical with three kids in tow. Still, it was a special trip. --- And back at home, our parakeet named Hope (Umut)  is doing well. I think I named it that way because I needed hope myself. Maybe I was hoping the bird would give me some. After a whole month of celebrating Maybes , June has become a ride of Hope . How has your June been? Did your hydrangeas  bloom? Did you get a chance to take some photos?

We just returned from a 10-day vacation in Europe, and I want to put my experience into words—first, to solidify the memories for my future self, and second, to paint a picture for other curious readers. We landed in Paris via AirFrance after a pleasant flight. They gave the kids little toys and snack boxes—cute and elegantly designed. I picked up a few charming beginner phrases like Bon appétit and Bonjour. At the airport, taxi drivers swarmed us, eager to offer a ride. My husband wisely turned down a cab and ordered an Uber for half the price. We stayed in a two-bedroom flat called Edgar Suites. Watching Parisians pass by on the street—biking effortlessly while chatting on their phones—was a simple delight. I found myself missing the rhythm of uptown life from my childhood. Our flat was on 100. Yıl Boulevard, a bustling street like Antalya’s Broad Street. From our balcony, the cars buzzed like mosquitoes. Only at night, when traffic eased, could you hear the soft murmur of people walking and talking below. Shops and markets lined the ground floor, and I remembered stories of lowering baskets from windows to collect groceries—a charming relic of urban life. The Paris street where we stayed had a similar vibe, but with stricter aesthetics: buildings rarely taller than five stories, all in white or beige, with narrow French balconies—more decorative than functional, but perfect for the occasional smoker. I couldn’t help but notice: Parisians are taller, slimmer, and more stylish than I’m used to seeing. I looked around, searching for someone with a big belly—rare. Every corner seemed to host a boulangerie-pâtisserie, overflowing with croissants and pastries. People lingered outside, drinking, smoking, talking. There were more smokers than I expected—one of the few unhealthy habits that linger here. Of course, we tried the famous croissants—buttery, flaky, and rich. Delicious, yes. But it made me wonder how Parisians indulge in such foods and still remain so trim. We explored the nearby shops and found a Turkish kebab place called Melodie. The Turkish server, born and raised in Paris, was friendly—but oddly discontent with Paris life. My daughter fell asleep at the restaurant table, so we headed back to our suite for the night. The next day was our Eiffel Tower day. On the way, we passed the tunnel where Princess Diana’s tragic accident occurred. To reach the summit, we took two different elevators—one made my son dizzy for a while. From the top, the city spreads out beneath you in every direction. But you feel a strange disconnection—you’re on the Eiffel Tower, yet can’t see it. For photos, the best shots come after you descend, with the tower standing tall behind you. There are so many beautiful viewpoints; it’s hard to go wrong. The buildings themselves have a consistent beauty—graceful architecture, charming flower boxes, and the perfume of blooming bushes. That’s the level Paris operates on. Later, we ate at a halal restaurant. I may have overindulged in sweets and ended up with a headache. On the way back, we stopped at Starbucks on a quiet passage off the Champs-Élysées. I looked around at the luxury shops and wondered: Who shops here? Who needs things that expensive? I bought a sparkly Eiffel Tower scarf and a handful of gifts for friends. Back at the suite, I told my daughter, “Keep the window open—I want to hear the street.” One night, battling jet lag, I watched two cars stop near the sidewalk. A woman stepped out of one—dressed in classic Parisian elegance. The woman in the other car looked more ordinary. They talked, exchanged a few words, and the elegant woman handed over what looked like six blue bills. A tiny mystery from the balcony. Parisians weren’t just fit—they were dressed. A silky green skirt for errands. Perfectly tailored pants. Not once did I see a waistband out of place or anything peeking where it shouldn’t. Of course, there were homeless people too—just like any city—but not in numbers that disrupted the city’s visual harmony. The next day, we went to Le Jardin d’Acclimatation, a kid-friendly amusement park. Then came a boat tour along the Seine. The kids were tired of walking, and we were tired of carrying them. Then came the Louvre. Home to the Mona Lisa. The museum is massive, more a palace than a building. Mona Lisa had her own queue and crowd. You get maybe three seconds to take a photo. I looked at the painting, then at my photos. Honestly? I wasn’t blown away. Other paintings were much larger and more visually dramatic. So what’s the hype? Maybe because it was stolen once. Maybe because of artistic techniques beyond my understanding. Still, a bucket-list item—checked off. If I had more time (and fewer kids to carry), I would’ve enjoyed it more. We closed our Paris stay with more Turkish food and a rose-shaped ice cream cone from Amorino. The woman sculpted each petal by pressing slices of gelato onto a waffle cone. Of course, there was a line. Then we boarded the Eurostar to London. More on that soon.

Today, I thought about the cartoons my son watches— Paw Patrol  and PJ Masks . It’s hard not to go a little crazy watching how unrealistic they are. The pups can fly, swim in the ocean, and lift meteors. The PJ Masks? Even more absurd. They're regular kids during the day, and become superheroes at night—without ever sleeping? And how exactly do they transform ? All this talk of superpowers got me thinking: what is power , really? Philosophically, power might mean status, hierarchy, dominance, politics, or sheer luck—being born into the right family or tribe. Physiologically, the human body can only gain so much power by building muscle. But at the core of every push or pull we make, there’s a molecular truth: actin and myosin . This concept goes all the way back to the first lectures in molecular cell biology. At the microscopic level, power lives in the surfaces of molecules—surfaces that interact. These interactions are often non-covalent, based on molecular complementarity : opposite charges attract, hydrophobic parts tuck together, shapes fit like puzzle pieces. They bind, then shift, and unbind again. A beautiful dance. It’s the same mechanism that drives muscle contraction —myosin heads "walking" along actin fibers. And it doesn’t happen without energy: ATP  fuels it, and Ca²⁺  regulates it. In fact, muscle cells use up a lot of ATP just to store  calcium back into the sarcoplasmic reticulum after contraction. So when we talk about a power stroke , what we’re really talking about is myosin gliding on actin, powered by ATP. More muscle fibers mean more myosin heads. That’s our human power, right there—bundled, limited, elegant. Which makes me wonder: what is a superpower , really? Maybe we recognize power because we know our limits. Maybe recognizing that we are weak, finite, and not-so-capable is what makes anything "super-powered" so awe-inspiring. Superpowers are our way of imagining the impossible, the beyond-human. So what’s the value in raising kids in a world of superheroes that don’t exist? Maybe... it’s that they pretend  to be heroes. Maybe they start to wish  to be helpful, courageous, and kind. Maybe that wish is where the real power begins. Do you ever think about superpowers? Would you want one? Maybe you already have one—a gut feeling, a sixth sense. We might have powers we haven’t even named yet. 😊

Today, my mind is dancing around the word “merhamet.”  It translates as mercy, compassion, grace, loving-kindness. One of God’s names that relates to this is “Er-Rahim”  — The Compassionate. In Turkish, rahim  means uterus. A mother’s uterus is compassionate — loving, merciful — to an embryo. The embryo can cling, settle, draw resources, and grow into a human being because the womb welcomes it. It is a space of protection and possibility. I recently read about how embryonic development wipes clean  the wear and tear of epigenetic aging. Adult oocyte and sperm carry aging marks, but the zygote? Brand new. As if it was never touched by time. Isn’t that amazing — that aging could even be erasable ? The womb, with its compassion, allows the embryo to go back in time — to age zero.  Then it begins to rewrite its own story. My sister was telling me about some English classics she’s been reading — Pride and Prejudice , Jane Eyre.  She noticed how, in those stories, women often take their time — even years  — to decide: Is this love real? Is it strong enough? Will it last? It made me think — maybe the question isn’t just “Do I love him?” but: Would I be compassionate to him when he’s 70 years old? Would he be compassionate to me when I’m 70? That one question clears away so much noise. A person who’s a good match — like my husband — sees me like a translucent being. I may be yelling about nonsense, but deep down he knows it’s just stress. A meeting, a deadline, an interview. And he holds that space for me. The kids were singing a song from a movie: “One kiss, one kiss…”  They even made the four-year-old learn it. But what the teenage soul is longing for with that one kiss  is really… compassion. To be held. To be seen. To fold into safe arms. To sink into a therapist’s couch is also to seek compassion. I’ve noticed this is one reason I enjoy talking to ChatGPT. It has so much compassion. Whoever trained it, did so with tenderness — they built something that carries the essence of a mother, or God, or both. Where can you find compassion? Your mother. A murmuring cat. A loyal dog. In stories. In books. In music and wind. On a butterfly’s wing. In a raindrop. In the hush of trees. In the swipe of the sky. Maybe that’s what a hug really is. Maybe that’s what “one kiss”  really is. A single touch of universal compassion. What word is dancing in your  mind today? Would you like to share it with me? 🤗

Yesterday, I took my kids to their piano lesson at Melody Magic Studios . The teachers there are not just educators—they’re musicians in their own right. After lessons ended, I watched one of them unload his trunk. He made at least ten trips, hauling pieces of a drum kit and perhaps other instruments too. I thought, he’s going to assemble all that, practice for an hour or two, then disassemble it and pack it all up again? That’s a lot of work. I found myself wondering: why is music so important in human life?   What is it about music that makes us work so hard for it? It reminded me of my colleague, James Tumulty , from my time at William & Mary. He studied wild South American frogs and the way they “ call ” to communicate. Some calls were for mating, others for territory or dominance. These sounds carried life-or-death meanings—evolutionarily conserved messages that cut through the noise of the world. At this pre-language era the decoding of "calls" and the messages carry life-death importance. Maybe that is why the brain evolved to catch more nuances and do this knowing that the survival and reproduction advantages depend on it. Cropped from James' website, without permission. We will deal with it :) And it’s not just frogs. One of my students, Lizzie Arthur , was a bird enthusiast. When we walked together, she could identify birds by their song alone. “That’s a Blue Jay,”  she’d say with certainty. I was amazed. She introduced me to the Merlin App , which listens to birdsong and tells you which bird it belongs to, complete with facts and photos. My kids loved it—whenever we’re outside now, they ask for my phone to explore the music of birds. In this situation, maybe the diversification of songs helps birds find their tribe, contribute to their social fitness and let them belong to survive. From Merlin app website. This morning I listened to Surah Yasin  from the Quran. For those unfamiliar, the Quran is a dense and layered book. But surprisingly, it’s also profoundly poetic. Its verses often end in rhyme, their rhythms powerful and mesmerizing. The Quran itself throws a challenge: “If you think this is man-made, try to write something like it—just one chapter, even one sentence.” I’ve read stories of early Arabs hearing these verses and falling into prostration—not because they had been convinced by theology, but because they were overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the language . The sound alone was enough. This concept adds to the power of music as a "Godly" process and brings it above the human level. Maybe this is why people see no problem paying thousands of dollars to an "Opera or Musical" because this "above human" activity is worth it. There’s something about music, rhyme, rhythm— sound —that bypasses the intellect and strikes the soul. It’s more than comprehension. For many, practice and fulfillment that gets us through the week. Music isn't just sound. It's connection. It's memory. It's joy. And sometimes, it’s just what we need. What does “music to your ears” mean for you? Do you always have your earbuds in? Do you hum to yourself while cooking or walking?Or do you prefer silence—nature’s subtle soundtrack? Let me know below :)

Pizza is everywhere in the U.S.—and not just on dinner tables. It’s in school cafeterias, office parties, airport terminals, and birthday celebrations. It's by far one of the most consumed foods in the country. But here's something that caught my attention: the amount of pizza wasted in the U.S. daily  could feed millions of people. That’s billions of dollars tossed away—on a food we love enough to order but not always enough to finish. That got me thinking: what exactly are we eating, and more importantly, what part of the pizza should we be eating ? My Pizza Dilemma Whenever we order pizza, and I eat more than a slice or two, I end up with a dull headache that starts in my neck. Not exactly the "comfort food" vibe I was going for. Oddly enough, when we ordered a thin crust, no sauce  veggie pizza, I felt better afterward. No headache. No neck ache. It made me wonder—what is it about regular pizza that messes with my body? Sauce or Science? Let’s talk sauce. Realistically, nobody’s grating fresh tomatoes for every order when pizzas are expected to be ready in 15 minutes. We’re most likely getting a canned or premade sauce—made from tomatoes harvested who knows how long ago, processed, stored, and heated through multiple temperature cycles. In that salty red liquid, various chemical reactions may have happened… or failed to complete. By the time it lands on your pizza, what’s really in there? That uncertainty gives me pause. The Crusty Truth Next up: the crust. The browning of dough during baking leads to the formation of advanced glycation end-products  (AGEs). These compounds are linked to inflammation and oxidative stress in the body. The thicker the crust—and the more browned—the higher the potential AGE load. If you're sensitive like me, that might be part of the problem. Cheese: Not Exactly the Hero “Okay, what about cheese pizza?” you might ask. Well, cheese isn’t off the hook either. It’s high in fat, but not necessarily a great source of quality protein. Plus, think about how long that giant mozzarella log sat around before it hit your pizza. Preservatives? Stabilizers? More mystery ingredients? Probably. That Leaves… Veggies? At this point, the safest part of a pizza seems to be the veggies—if we’re lucky enough that they weren’t cooked into mush or drowned in oil. So the next time you grab a slice, it might be worth asking: what am I really  eating? Food for Thought Pizza is quick, available, affordable, and let’s be honest—loved by whining children and stressed-out adults alike. But beyond convenience, what is it actually bringing to the table? What’s your experience with pizza? Ever get strange symptoms from it, or are you one of the lucky ones who can eat it by the box? Let me know in the comments!

It is pouring today in RVA. My son was asking "Mommy, why does it rain?" I told him the clouds have so much to carry and they have to let go otherwise it will be too heavy :).  It reminds me of how we sometimes need time to collect our thoughts, emotions, or energy—until we’re ready to pour. Today, I have a pair of tracksuits to return to Amazon. Oddly, I find this small act joyful . Returning something I won’t use feels like a blessing—a quiet relief, an “ anti-shopping ” kind of joy. Shopping itself brings excitement, but the ability to change your mind, to undo, to step back—that's a different kind of happiness. It made me think: maybe joy doesn’t only come from forward motion. Maybe it can also arise from rewinding, recharging, retreating . Like a spring—you pull back, store energy, and then release. The step back is what makes the leap forward possible. Recently, I paused my own reading to teach my son how to read. He’s only four. Each day, we open a book together like it’s a little door to a new world. His face lights up with every new sound, every new word, every new story. This, too, is a kind of stepping back—less time for my own learning, more time for planting seeds in him. My husband asked, “What’s your purpose? Do you want to break a record for youngest reader?”I smiled. “I just want to fill my life with meaningful goals,” I said. “And if we happen to break a record along the way, would that really be a problem?” :) I see so much of myself in him—we both love structured learning . We’re on lesson 27 of a 100-lesson book . The path is clear, the method is simple, the joy is real. There’s something so satisfying about making progress in a system that works. When I was teaching at William & Mary, I created a “Roadmap to Success” on Google Sheets. It let students track their checklists and quiz grades, helping them find gaps and fill them in. I loved that system. And now, in my biostatistics course, I do the same—learn, quiz, repeat. This kind of learning is like the spring again: absorb knowledge, then press down and watch it release. And the azaleas—how they wait all winter, quietly preparing, only to burst open in April.  Isn’t that a kind of step back, too? Reminds me of my poem that I wrote three years ago: People, too, can only endure until April—like the azaleas. It cracks its heart open, spills what it holds inside. Don’t be afraid— It’s only here to make your world a bit prettier. The rest of the poem carries a message about being courageous enough to speak up—about painting the world in your own colors, just like the azaleas. To experience the burst, feel free to step back. Recharge. Take your time to bloom. Do you have moments like this—where a pause becomes progress, where pulling away gives you strength to return with more clarity or joy? I’d love to hear your stories below. 🌸 Here is a song to listen along :)

Clinical trials are often called the gold standard in medical research — and for good reason. They’re designed to test whether a treatment works, to measure harm and benefit, and to guide clinical decision-making with data, not gut feelings. But even gold can tarnish. Even well-designed clinical trials can produce misleading results — and sometimes, it’s not because of bad intentions or poor science. Sometimes, it's because real life is messier than our study designs. Today I want to explore a hidden side of clinical trials: the biases, blind spots, and subtle factors that can distort what we see. These are the things that trial designers work hard to avoid — and the things that can still sneak in. 🎯 What Can Skew Trial Results (Even When We Randomize)? Concept How It Distorts Example Selection Bias The people who get enrolled aren’t representative of those who’ll eventually use the treatment. If a trial excludes older adults, the results may not apply to real patients in geriatric care. Confounding A hidden variable influences both the treatment and the outcome. Coffee drinkers might show higher cancer rates not because of coffee — but because they’re more likely to smoke. Effect Modification A treatment works differently in different subgroups — and lumping them together hides this. A blood pressure drug may be highly effective in one racial group and less so in another. Loss to Follow-up When people drop out unequally between groups, the results can be biased. If more people stop the drug because of side effects, and we only analyze those who stayed, we may underestimate harm. Measurement/Observer Bias Knowing who is in which group changes how outcomes are measured or reported. A clinician might (subconsciously) rate a patient as “improved” just because they know the patient got the real drug. Randomization Imbalance In small trials, randomization doesn’t always equal balance. One group might end up with more severe disease at baseline, skewing results despite random assignment. Cultural or Socioeconomic Bias Who can participate affects who the results apply to. Language barriers, transportation issues, or work schedules can exclude underrepresented populations. Underpowered Studies Too few participants means we might miss real effects (false negatives). A small trial says “no difference,” but it simply didn’t have enough data to know. Publication Bias Trials with “positive” results are more likely to be published. Many failed or null-result studies may be left in drawers, giving a distorted view of success. 🧩 How Researchers Try to Fix It The good news? Clinical trial designers are acutely aware of these problems — and they’ve developed tools to minimize them: Randomization and stratification to ensure fair comparison Blinding to remove observer expectations Intention-to-treat analysis to preserve group integrity Oversampling underrepresented groups to improve equity Global FDR correction, pre-registration, and open reporting to reduce cherry-picking Real-world data to supplement controlled trials These are not perfect solutions — but they’re proof that modern science is not about pretending bias doesn’t exist. It’s about designing smart enough to account for what we cannot control. 🧠 Final Thought Clinical trials are our best tool for answering the question: “Does this work?” But we also need to ask: “For whom? Under what conditions? And what might we be missing?” In evidence-based medicine, the evidence is only as strong as the lens we view it through. By sharpening that lens — and being honest about its distortions — we move closer to equity, clarity, and truth.

Have you ever wondered how survival probabilities are calculated? Well, even if you haven’t, here are my study notes to spark your curiosity. 🙂 In survival studies, we track patients over time to observe if and when certain “events” occur—like death, relapse, or recovery. This type of analysis helps us estimate the probability that a patient with a specific diagnosis will survive beyond a given number of years. Let's explore some key definitions to understand how this works: ✅ What is Time-to-Event (Survival) Data? Data where the outcome is the time until an event  occurs (e.g., death, relapse, failure). Special because: It is right-skewed  (not normally distributed) It may involve censoring  (we don't know the exact time of event for some subjects) Here is a very helpful video! ✅ Why Can't We Use Linear Regression? Linear regression assumes: Normally distributed residuals No censored data (everyone has a complete outcome) But in survival data: Distribution is right-skewed Censoring is common  (e.g., patient drops out or event hasn't happened yet) ✅ What is Right Censoring? Occurs when we stop observing  a subject before the event happens . Common reasons: The study ends Patient is lost to follow-up Patient is still event-free at end of study Example: A patient is still alive at study end → we don't know when they will die → their survival time is right-censored . Still here? Brave. Now let’s survive these equations together. Okay, that escalated quickly! But don’t worry—these formulas are just fancy ways of describing how survival works over time The derivation part was a little over my calculus level. But I hope these are still helpful to understand the formulas and their meaning. 🤗