Ever since June of 2012, i have been helping publish a small newsletter for the Mare Island Museum at the former Mare Island Navy Shipyard. For something that started as an accident due to my mostly directionless sense of direction, the quarterly newsletter "Farragut's Press", has been something of a looked forward to enjoyment for me.
"Farragut's Press" is largely written by Mrs. Barbara Davis, a former Department of Defense educator who has, in her role as teacher on military bases, traveled the world and seen the vast diversity that so many of us find hard to grasp.
The setting of Mare Island provides Barbara with a treasure trove of stories and facts to populate "Farragut's Press". Take, for example, the name of the newsletter, "Farragut's Press". On the surface, it is not hard to deduce that the newsletter was named after the officer who was tasked with the founding of Mare Island Navy Shipyard, then Captain, David Farragut. However, digging deeper, one realizes the myriad of tales one could tell simply based on the life and career of Admiral (his final rank) David Farragut, for example, the fact that we are in his debt for the phrase "damn the torpedoes!" (uttered in the spurring of the ships under his command in the heated Battle of Mobile Bay) and the founding of the rank Admiral (well, the Congress really, but he was the first Rear Admiral, Vice Admiral and, finally, Admiral, of the US Navy. Previous to the creation of the rank of Admiral, the most senior rank in the US Navy was that of a Captain) in the US Navy.
Every three months of so, i look forward to the articles Barbara will send through. Each time i put together the newsletter, my knowledge base of the US Navy and of the US Submarine Service, especially (Mare Island was one of the shipyards responsible for populating the US WWII Submarine fleet and, later, the US Nuclear Submarine fleet), is thus increased.
So, if you are also a fan of US Navy history, especially the bits of it associated with the first Navy Shipyard founded in the US West, jog your mouse to the right of your screen and there, ye shall find, a link to "Farragut's Press".
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Death or Cheese? Cheese or Death?
Yet, in other news, the FDA is considering banning aged cheeses because they feel that the wooden cheese racks, racks that have been used by cheese makers for generations, could not be sufficiently decontaminated and therefore pose a threat to food safety.
The NRA has managed, with political donations, threats, fear-mongering, and propaganda, to fend off any serious gun regulation legislation even in the face of almost monthly reports of random violent gun crimes at institutions long thought to be a refuge. Their solution to prevention? Arm everyone, that way everyone can defend themselves. Much good that did the conceal carrying gentleman in Las Vegas who thought that he, alone, can stop the two anti-government extremists who invaded the Walmart after ambushing and - for the lack of better words - executing two Las Vegas police officers on a lunch break. Yes, the conceal carrying gentleman, confident and brave with his second amend rights, simply added to the body count before the pair finished their rampage themselves in a murder suicide pact.
Mr. conceal carry will be touted as a hero, no doubt (and he is brave... but take care, brave is a dangerous word and does not always mean what you think). The gun rights right will argue that "hey! at least he had an option to do something", and completely ignore the fact that the person who stopped the Seattle shooter was an unarmed bystander and that, perhaps, luck of the draw dictates much more than one'd like to give luck credit for.
Yet we are still facing a potential aged cheese ban. Oh, if only there was a National Aged Cheese Association... NACA...
Wednesday, June 04, 2014
Life in "Sub"urbia?
For me, there is a certain whimsy in the photo. The Chinese characters on the skiff/punt/floating platform that supports the "submarine" reads (character by character): Return (come back), Water, Dirty (waste), Oil. Yet there he is, a semi jolly man in just a pair of red and navy/black swim briefs, standing relaxed with his very own yellow (what a cheerful colour) inflatable flotation device, without a care in the world but looking fine for the camera pointed at him, eager to swim in... well... returned water (with?) dirty oil. The fact that this image belonged to an exhibit entitled "Flotsam/Jetsam" only adds to the subtle mirth that i enjoy.
Now, the stenciled number on the sail of the "Submarine" reads 589. SSN-589 was the hull number of the Skipjack class nuclear submarine USS Scorpion, lost with all hands on May 22, 1968 near the waters southwest of the Azores. Her wreck currently rests in 9,800 feet of water at 32°54.9′N33°08.89′W. The cause of the sinking has been theorized to a malfunction of one of the Scorpion's own torpedo, however, the malfunctioned torpedo is just one of many theories about the cause of the Scorpion's untimely demise. The Scorpion was ordered on January 31st, 1957, her keel laid down in Groton on August 20th, 1958. She was launched on December 29th, 1959 and commissioned on July 29th, 1960. As fate would have it, the Scorpion was sponsored by a Mrs. Elizabeth S. Morris, the daughter of the last commander of the World War II submarine Scorpion, lost, with all hands, in the Yellow Sea around January 5th, 1944.
i don't know if the history of SSN-589 suggests a certain expected outcome of the jolly asian fellow. Though one might well imagine it might. Ah well, i do wish him a long and healthy life.
He did make a darn good replica of SSN-589 though... pictured below is the real McCoy:
Monday, June 02, 2014
Start
i often wonder how early memories work and what is truly remembered versus what is "remembered" after stories are told and repeatedly retold.
My memories of my paternal grand parents are vague, but the feelings i have for them are warm and unchanging. After all, their faces, oddly picked out in different sized pearls on a red velvet background, has greeted me in my parent's home ever since i was very young. The earliest memories i have of my paternal grand parents were somber ones. My grand mother passed when i was quite young (so young i can't accurately remember or trust the memories there of) and my grand father passed when i was around four. All the memories associated with them were of dark rooms, incense, and somber serious adults. What i know of them are mostly passed down to me verbally through various stories told and retold.
What i know is that they raised five children, the oldest being a girl, followed by four boys, my father being the third of the children, the second of the boys. My grand father was a general practice doctor in the village near Tainan, Taiwan. My grand mother helped out in the clinic and chased after the kids. Though never wealthy, since they were often not paid in currency but in goods or a simple smile, they were respected in the community and always made sure that, in the afternoon, the chimney in the kitchen exhausted cooking smoke - regardless of whether or not any actually cookery was going on. It was told to us that the reason why this show of cooking was done was to assure those who couldn't afford medical service that Dr. Liang was comfortable and at ease even if he isn't always paid. It was told to us that many a meals in the Liang household consisted of a bit of veg, lots of rice, and a lot of soy sauce to make the rice go down easy.
All of my uncles and my father attended Taipei Medical School, then the second best possible medical institution in Taiwan (the best being the National University). My uncles were all surgeons, my father studied Pharmaceutical Sciences and became the Pharmacist in Chung-jen Orthopedics Hospital in Kaoshiung, Taiwan, a hospital founded and established by my grand father when he relocated the family from the village in Tainan to then (and still) second largest city in Taiwan. Once the practice at Chung-jen stabilized and thrived, and all my uncles, my father, and my aunt (she married a surgeon who is also on staff at Chung-jen) were comfortable and starting families (my aunt had two boys and two girls, my eldest uncle a boy and a girl, and my dad got married in an arranged marriage to my mom and had just had me), my grand parents went on a trip to see the world -- the dream they both had, which said something about the type of persons they were. Somewhere in Europe, my grand mother fell ill. Though my grand father was unwilling to leave his sick wife, he continued travelling on her insistence and urging while she traveled back to Taiwan and the care of her children.
Her condition never improved though she was installed in the best hospital of Taiwan at the time, at the National Taiwan University Medical School. Her children took turns traveling from Kaushiung to Taipei (4 hour journey by car in the modern condition, a 5-6 hour train ride back in the days) to look after her and take care of her on a weekly rotation. My grand mother faded into a coma as my grand father's journey brought him closer to home. As family tradition would have it, she came out of her coma when at last my grand father arrived to her bedside. She was able to see him and exchange brief greetings before she finally succumbed to her illness and died.
To this day, i still never got a straight answer as to what she died of.
My memories of my paternal grand parents are vague, but the feelings i have for them are warm and unchanging. After all, their faces, oddly picked out in different sized pearls on a red velvet background, has greeted me in my parent's home ever since i was very young. The earliest memories i have of my paternal grand parents were somber ones. My grand mother passed when i was quite young (so young i can't accurately remember or trust the memories there of) and my grand father passed when i was around four. All the memories associated with them were of dark rooms, incense, and somber serious adults. What i know of them are mostly passed down to me verbally through various stories told and retold.
What i know is that they raised five children, the oldest being a girl, followed by four boys, my father being the third of the children, the second of the boys. My grand father was a general practice doctor in the village near Tainan, Taiwan. My grand mother helped out in the clinic and chased after the kids. Though never wealthy, since they were often not paid in currency but in goods or a simple smile, they were respected in the community and always made sure that, in the afternoon, the chimney in the kitchen exhausted cooking smoke - regardless of whether or not any actually cookery was going on. It was told to us that the reason why this show of cooking was done was to assure those who couldn't afford medical service that Dr. Liang was comfortable and at ease even if he isn't always paid. It was told to us that many a meals in the Liang household consisted of a bit of veg, lots of rice, and a lot of soy sauce to make the rice go down easy.
All of my uncles and my father attended Taipei Medical School, then the second best possible medical institution in Taiwan (the best being the National University). My uncles were all surgeons, my father studied Pharmaceutical Sciences and became the Pharmacist in Chung-jen Orthopedics Hospital in Kaoshiung, Taiwan, a hospital founded and established by my grand father when he relocated the family from the village in Tainan to then (and still) second largest city in Taiwan. Once the practice at Chung-jen stabilized and thrived, and all my uncles, my father, and my aunt (she married a surgeon who is also on staff at Chung-jen) were comfortable and starting families (my aunt had two boys and two girls, my eldest uncle a boy and a girl, and my dad got married in an arranged marriage to my mom and had just had me), my grand parents went on a trip to see the world -- the dream they both had, which said something about the type of persons they were. Somewhere in Europe, my grand mother fell ill. Though my grand father was unwilling to leave his sick wife, he continued travelling on her insistence and urging while she traveled back to Taiwan and the care of her children.
Her condition never improved though she was installed in the best hospital of Taiwan at the time, at the National Taiwan University Medical School. Her children took turns traveling from Kaushiung to Taipei (4 hour journey by car in the modern condition, a 5-6 hour train ride back in the days) to look after her and take care of her on a weekly rotation. My grand mother faded into a coma as my grand father's journey brought him closer to home. As family tradition would have it, she came out of her coma when at last my grand father arrived to her bedside. She was able to see him and exchange brief greetings before she finally succumbed to her illness and died.
To this day, i still never got a straight answer as to what she died of.
Thursday, March 20, 2014
i pledge allegiance to the GUN
of the United States of (National Rifle Association's) America
and to my right to bear arms above all other rights for which it stands
One Nation under NRA's sights
with Liberty and Justice for the ARMED...
Since when does the thoughts of the NRA matter when the confirmation of a Surgeon General is involved? Vivek Murthy (MBA, Yale; MD, Yale), a physician at Brigham and Women's Hospital, has been accused of wanting to use the "Bully Pulpit" of the Surgeon Generalship as a tool to silence the voice of Second Amendment Rights supporters by the NRA. This accusation has, in general consensus of the opinionators, silenced "Red State" Democrats with upcoming re-election campaigns and has chilled Dr. Murthy's prospects as the next Surgeon General of the United States (well, the fact that he is a vocal supporter of the Affordable Care Act -- "ObamaCare" -- hadn't helped).
He was chastened, because of his past statements relating Guns to a health hazard, during one of the many confirmation hearings, that "Americans have a First Amendment right to advocate for the Second Amendment or any amendment". Does this mean that First Amendment right only apply to advocates and not to critics of the Second Amendment (oh, let me add "or any amendment" as an afterthought)?? More specifically, what does a Surgeon General's views on gun rights have on his views on Health Care policy? Does it also follow, in the minds of the NRA and its followers, that if a doctor is against the "right to bear arms" (btw, the exact wording of the Amendment, as ratified by the States and authenticated by then Secretary of State, Thomas Jefferson, reads: "A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed". So, which militia does the gun owners belong to? To who's laws and rules do the "militia" of gun owners obey? Federal or State? As militias of the time of the drafting of the Amendment was controlled by local authorities and not a "free militia") then he will refuse service to wounded/injured/sickened gun owners? WTF?!
Ugh...
and to my right to bear arms above all other rights for which it stands
One Nation under NRA's sights
with Liberty and Justice for the ARMED...
Since when does the thoughts of the NRA matter when the confirmation of a Surgeon General is involved? Vivek Murthy (MBA, Yale; MD, Yale), a physician at Brigham and Women's Hospital, has been accused of wanting to use the "Bully Pulpit" of the Surgeon Generalship as a tool to silence the voice of Second Amendment Rights supporters by the NRA. This accusation has, in general consensus of the opinionators, silenced "Red State" Democrats with upcoming re-election campaigns and has chilled Dr. Murthy's prospects as the next Surgeon General of the United States (well, the fact that he is a vocal supporter of the Affordable Care Act -- "ObamaCare" -- hadn't helped).
He was chastened, because of his past statements relating Guns to a health hazard, during one of the many confirmation hearings, that "Americans have a First Amendment right to advocate for the Second Amendment or any amendment". Does this mean that First Amendment right only apply to advocates and not to critics of the Second Amendment (oh, let me add "or any amendment" as an afterthought)?? More specifically, what does a Surgeon General's views on gun rights have on his views on Health Care policy? Does it also follow, in the minds of the NRA and its followers, that if a doctor is against the "right to bear arms" (btw, the exact wording of the Amendment, as ratified by the States and authenticated by then Secretary of State, Thomas Jefferson, reads: "A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed". So, which militia does the gun owners belong to? To who's laws and rules do the "militia" of gun owners obey? Federal or State? As militias of the time of the drafting of the Amendment was controlled by local authorities and not a "free militia") then he will refuse service to wounded/injured/sickened gun owners? WTF?!
Ugh...
Sunday, January 05, 2014
Explaining how antibodies work
As part of the fundraising effort on Indiegogo was a blitz through the various pet-centric blogs and websites KA found on the wide world of the internet. PER, KA, and i all took a set of websites and wrote directed emails to ask for help spreading the word of the fundraising to a broader audience. Of the dozens of blogs/websites i have written to, i've gotten two replies thus far (the writing begun around Christmas, we are now 5 days into the New Year). One reply was a request to remove the recipient from our mailing list, and the other was an offer to help along with directed questions about the work and drugs that CanFel is trying to bring to veterinary medicine, specifically, questions about antibodies and how they work.
So, over a rapidly cooling mug of coffee, the following is what i wrote back:
One good way of thinking about antibodies is this.
First, some ground rules. Antibodies are designed to target cellular proteins and, through the binding of the cellular proteins, affect the cellular protein's function in one of three ways: activate the protein, inhibit the protein, or do nothing. Obviously, the do nothing antibodies are not much good for therapeutics 8). However, the activating or inhibitory antibodies are of therapeutic usefulness, as they can be used to tip the biological balance of cells.
Second, cellular proteins are outside in signal transducers in the most part. They tell the cells they are on what is going on outside and if the cell should grown, arrest growth, or even self-destruct (a very important biological function actually, but that is for another time perhaps). Aside from signal transduction, some cellular proteins also act to stabilize cells on whatever surface they are sitting on, or act as treads so a cell can have "traction" as they move, or act as tension modifiers to govern how rigid a cell is.
Third, cellular proteins are actually highly mechanical in form and function. For one protein to interact with another protein, there must first be compatibility in form, a lot of time, the interaction of the tumblers in a lock and the key designed for the lock is used to illustrate the importance of form in protein interaction. After the compatibility in form is satisfied, the proteins interact, and the interaction will then send a signal into the cell. This signal is generally triggered by a secondary mechanical event. This second event could be a clustering of proteins, assembling a macro-molecule that is now capable of signal transduction, or a physical change in the protein's shape so that a previously hidden part of the protein is now accessible for function.
So, here is where the antibody comes in. An antibody is also a protein, so it is designed to interact with its target in a specific way. When an antibody is, for example, interacting with a protein in the region of the protein important for that protein's interaction with other proteins, the antibody can effectively block the protein interaction by acting like a piece of gum stuck into a lock and blocking the key's entry or something more subtle, like padding a few tumblers so they are stuck in one position or move too much or too little and jam the lock. The antibody can also bind to a protein in such a way that it acts as a clamp, so when the protein is activated to undergo a mechanical change to transduce a signal, the antibody - as a clam - has restricted the ability of the protein to undergo mechanical change.
So now, lets go to a real world example. Take the lights in your house. They are operated by a switch. The switch is a binary function, on or off. Your house, in essence, is like a cell. When it is tumorous, it has all its lights on. When it is normal, some lights are on, some lights are off. So, how do you go about preventing the lights from all coming on? Well, you can terminate the electricity. That is a very efficient way to kill the lights (as it were), but then you will be in the dark. An antibody, in essence, gives you a tool that allows you to disable certain switches. For example, you can have an antibody that is specific to a circuit breaker - shutting off entire set of switches - or antibody to a specific set of switches - shutting off only certain lights. These antibodies would behave in such a way that you can't physically turn on the switch or it will disable the wires to which the switch goes so that, even if the switch is flipped, no electrical signal is sent.
Friday, January 03, 2014
An accidental career...
In life there are accidents, some of them happy, many of them sad. My career, what of it there is, begun on a happy accident. That accident, after 22 years, has found me here, neurotically monitoring the Indiegogo campaign and hoping that there are, out there, other visionaries and pet lovers like CanFel principles.
It was about halfway through the semester in 1992. i was a Sophomore majoring in English and Biology (soon to be just majoring in Biology) and finding it difficult to make it to my Cell Biology class due to personal laziness and a dire hatred for the professor teaching the Cell Biology session i was in (the class was taught by two professors, Dr. M and Dr. H, i had Dr. M). That all changed after a string of events beginning with a rather uninspiring day and a night of college boredom. One of my floor mates, a Chinese fellow who was on the Pre-Med track (who, of Chinese ancestry, wasn't on a Pre-Med track?), came into my room at Myles Standish (3rd floor, overlooking the undertakers across the street) asking if i wanted to accompany him up to the 8th floor to be "moral support" as he asks out a gal who caught his eye in Japanese class. Suffering from utter boredom and needing a more concrete excuse to not study, i happily agreed and jogged up the stairs with him. What unfolded next was the happy accident that set out the course of life which resulted in me, sitting here, tapping out these words.
The empty 8th floor hallway was lit a sickly yellow green by the overhead lights reflecting off the thick - sometimes slightly tacky - white wash that covers everything in the building. A door was knocked upon by my floor mate, and we waited quietly. The door opened, revealing a darkened room. An image that shook my very core appeared in the threshold, frame by the alluring, captivating, enchanting darkness. She, also of Chinese ancestry, was a super Pre-Med, being in the 7 year MD program. She was, in my life at the time - yet perhaps still strangely so - the most beautiful and wondrous person i have ever set eyes on. Then she spoke. It was as if golden melodies shattered the staid world i had lived in so far. Hell, i think even the drab Myles Standish hallway brightened and beautified itself in my eyes.
She was also a Sophomore, she was also taking Cell Biology, but she was in the 8 AM session taught by Dr. H (i was in the 5 PM session taught by Dr. M and regularly found myself unable to get up early enough for it). All this information i found out by hook and by crook. Then one morning, i saw her leave the building. Three more days confirmed her normal departure time for me (yes, i was stalking her). That led to my first visit to the main library on campus. Which led to me sitting in on Dr. H's Cell Biology class. Which led to my continued attendance of Dr. H's Cell Biology class and a visit to the registrar's's office to officially change sessions. Which led to my realization that, yes, MRK may have been the impetus that drew me to her Cell Biology session, but i've been, through Dr. H's energetic lectures and passion for the subject, made a Cell Biology convert. My innate interest for biology was revived and glowed brightly next to my absolute adoration and love for MRK as i sat there in Dr. H's Cell Biology class.
That love for cell biology resulted in me taking every high level biology class the university had to offer (though at the same time i neglected my non-biology classes - addictive personality, what can i say). It led me to volunteer my time (sans pay) in Dr. H's lab, where i would begin days dissecting three dozen eggs to harvest embryonic chicken retinas and then head off to Mal's for the "Country Breakfast" and the three mugs of coffee that comes with it. My time at Dr. H's lab reinforced my love for bench research, MRK's continued education for her MD after University gave me reason to stay put and land a job in the lab of CAP. CAP would become my mentor and surrogate father, and his kids my siblings. CAP would be one of my few friends who i would continually keep in touch with and sought out for advice in my times of need. CAP would also instill in me my love for human neutrophils and the beauty of the epithelial tight junction. MRK's return to CA would drive me to ask CAP for help getting me placed into a job in CA, and, though MRK and i ended up splitting up a mere week after my accepting of the job, i couldn't find it in myself to renege on a job i have committed to. The job led to my return to CA, resulted in my meeting of JPM and PER and, most importantly, my wife. Meeting JPM and PER resulted in my dedicating 10 years of my life to what i still consider to be one of the finest biotech ventures i've ever seen. Leaving JPM and PER allowed me to meet KAT, who i consider to be a dear friend and who facilitated me sitting here today writing this blog in front of my computer as my PCR reactions crank away in a Bio-Rad PCR machine.
All this, from one happy accident of me, being bored, in 1992 saying "yes" to a a request for "moral support".
So thank you, my Chinese floor mate who's name i cant' recall.
It was about halfway through the semester in 1992. i was a Sophomore majoring in English and Biology (soon to be just majoring in Biology) and finding it difficult to make it to my Cell Biology class due to personal laziness and a dire hatred for the professor teaching the Cell Biology session i was in (the class was taught by two professors, Dr. M and Dr. H, i had Dr. M). That all changed after a string of events beginning with a rather uninspiring day and a night of college boredom. One of my floor mates, a Chinese fellow who was on the Pre-Med track (who, of Chinese ancestry, wasn't on a Pre-Med track?), came into my room at Myles Standish (3rd floor, overlooking the undertakers across the street) asking if i wanted to accompany him up to the 8th floor to be "moral support" as he asks out a gal who caught his eye in Japanese class. Suffering from utter boredom and needing a more concrete excuse to not study, i happily agreed and jogged up the stairs with him. What unfolded next was the happy accident that set out the course of life which resulted in me, sitting here, tapping out these words.
The empty 8th floor hallway was lit a sickly yellow green by the overhead lights reflecting off the thick - sometimes slightly tacky - white wash that covers everything in the building. A door was knocked upon by my floor mate, and we waited quietly. The door opened, revealing a darkened room. An image that shook my very core appeared in the threshold, frame by the alluring, captivating, enchanting darkness. She, also of Chinese ancestry, was a super Pre-Med, being in the 7 year MD program. She was, in my life at the time - yet perhaps still strangely so - the most beautiful and wondrous person i have ever set eyes on. Then she spoke. It was as if golden melodies shattered the staid world i had lived in so far. Hell, i think even the drab Myles Standish hallway brightened and beautified itself in my eyes.
She was also a Sophomore, she was also taking Cell Biology, but she was in the 8 AM session taught by Dr. H (i was in the 5 PM session taught by Dr. M and regularly found myself unable to get up early enough for it). All this information i found out by hook and by crook. Then one morning, i saw her leave the building. Three more days confirmed her normal departure time for me (yes, i was stalking her). That led to my first visit to the main library on campus. Which led to me sitting in on Dr. H's Cell Biology class. Which led to my continued attendance of Dr. H's Cell Biology class and a visit to the registrar's's office to officially change sessions. Which led to my realization that, yes, MRK may have been the impetus that drew me to her Cell Biology session, but i've been, through Dr. H's energetic lectures and passion for the subject, made a Cell Biology convert. My innate interest for biology was revived and glowed brightly next to my absolute adoration and love for MRK as i sat there in Dr. H's Cell Biology class.
That love for cell biology resulted in me taking every high level biology class the university had to offer (though at the same time i neglected my non-biology classes - addictive personality, what can i say). It led me to volunteer my time (sans pay) in Dr. H's lab, where i would begin days dissecting three dozen eggs to harvest embryonic chicken retinas and then head off to Mal's for the "Country Breakfast" and the three mugs of coffee that comes with it. My time at Dr. H's lab reinforced my love for bench research, MRK's continued education for her MD after University gave me reason to stay put and land a job in the lab of CAP. CAP would become my mentor and surrogate father, and his kids my siblings. CAP would be one of my few friends who i would continually keep in touch with and sought out for advice in my times of need. CAP would also instill in me my love for human neutrophils and the beauty of the epithelial tight junction. MRK's return to CA would drive me to ask CAP for help getting me placed into a job in CA, and, though MRK and i ended up splitting up a mere week after my accepting of the job, i couldn't find it in myself to renege on a job i have committed to. The job led to my return to CA, resulted in my meeting of JPM and PER and, most importantly, my wife. Meeting JPM and PER resulted in my dedicating 10 years of my life to what i still consider to be one of the finest biotech ventures i've ever seen. Leaving JPM and PER allowed me to meet KAT, who i consider to be a dear friend and who facilitated me sitting here today writing this blog in front of my computer as my PCR reactions crank away in a Bio-Rad PCR machine.
All this, from one happy accident of me, being bored, in 1992 saying "yes" to a a request for "moral support".
So thank you, my Chinese floor mate who's name i cant' recall.
Wednesday, January 01, 2014
January 1st, 2013
Begun like the past handfuls of first of Januarys. In the warm house of R&C, surrounded by tipsy friends, hoisting crustal flutes of champagne as we all bade everyone a happy new year. Then comes the accounting of the remaining wines and R and i setting to work so that we "waste not want not". The year of 2013, the Year of the Snake in the Chinese zodiac.
The thought of it being the Year of the Snake, i recall, struck me as rather odd, having being born in the Year of the Rat. i remember thinking to myself, does this mean that the year will simply consume me, digest me, and excrete me with barely a thought? Would i be a nourishing meal? Would i be remembered for a particular taste? Possibly my high fat content? Or will i be forgotten, ingested like the millions of Big Macs served world wide?
2013, it turns out, was a strange year, a strange year where i walked out on a perfectly good job because of my personal idiotsyncracies, "principles", and an exaggerated sense of self worth. Where i discovered exactly how unremarkable my set of skills were in the biotech marketplace and was taught a lesson of humility over how common a non-degree'd grunt like me really is. Where i began a side career as a consultant and was aghast at the world of Contract Research Organizations and Contract Manufacturing Organizations. Where i then got horribly lucky, due to a very dear friend, to land my current job. Though, instead of being grateful to her, i've pestered her exceedingly with daily emails and requests for dinners. Yup, Year of the Snake.
Yet, it was still a year where i gained more than i have lost, and to that i am grateful to the slithering bugger of a Year.
Though i still don't know what kind of a meal i was... but i guess, it really doesn't matter. There are only so many more years left in me, and i doubt the ol Snake will get a chance at a second bite in twelve years.
Happy New Year all, onward to the Year of the Horse.
The thought of it being the Year of the Snake, i recall, struck me as rather odd, having being born in the Year of the Rat. i remember thinking to myself, does this mean that the year will simply consume me, digest me, and excrete me with barely a thought? Would i be a nourishing meal? Would i be remembered for a particular taste? Possibly my high fat content? Or will i be forgotten, ingested like the millions of Big Macs served world wide?
2013, it turns out, was a strange year, a strange year where i walked out on a perfectly good job because of my personal idiotsyncracies, "principles", and an exaggerated sense of self worth. Where i discovered exactly how unremarkable my set of skills were in the biotech marketplace and was taught a lesson of humility over how common a non-degree'd grunt like me really is. Where i began a side career as a consultant and was aghast at the world of Contract Research Organizations and Contract Manufacturing Organizations. Where i then got horribly lucky, due to a very dear friend, to land my current job. Though, instead of being grateful to her, i've pestered her exceedingly with daily emails and requests for dinners. Yup, Year of the Snake.
Yet, it was still a year where i gained more than i have lost, and to that i am grateful to the slithering bugger of a Year.
Though i still don't know what kind of a meal i was... but i guess, it really doesn't matter. There are only so many more years left in me, and i doubt the ol Snake will get a chance at a second bite in twelve years.
Happy New Year all, onward to the Year of the Horse.
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