On the loss (or evolution) of primitive characters

Sometimes I'd like to look at it as being given a clean slate. But most days I just become preposterously frustrated that I can no longer perform the way I did during my "glory days".

Today, there's always a not-so-discreet tug towards mediocrity and the initial "I don't care" until the eventual "oh come on, you're better than this" floats unannounced like a perpetual poltergeist.

I have no idea as to the selection pressure that deleted my previously productive characters, and now I am in the middle of a natural selection episode, barely breathing and staying afloat. I look around and those other species which used to be intermediary are now persisting, proliferating, dominating.

Maybe that's the problem. I became too extreme, too fixated, too developed that I could no longer adapt.

Here comes another wave. God, I wish I have gills.

Komm, gib mir deine hand

We saw some weird-looking eight-legged organisms this morning amidst yellowing paper and three inches of dust and mice dung; my labmate proclaimed that they are pre-Cambrian insects. Biology never fails to amaze me. One day your sustenance is some trace cellulose and fossilized feces, the next day you become model organisms under the mercy of an emotionally-unstable research assistant. Survival - 1, Life - 0.

Since I am already weird and buried under shit, all that's left to do is grow eight legs. Maybe then, he'll take interest in me. Either that, or this fixation shall remain along with the other pre-Cambrian fossils.

Bookworm Adventures: 2011 gave birth to these wonderful babies

Of course my list of to-read books goes on and on and might even come to the point of running across the entire length of China's Great Wall, but I would like to still hold on to the possibility that I may one glorious day be rich enough to walk inside National Bookstore and just grab whichever baby I lay my eyes onto.

Ergo, these five items (book descriptions from Goodreads):

How to Keep Your Volkswagen Alive by Christopher Boucher. Welcome to Christopher Boucher’s zany literary universe, a place where metaphors shift beneath your feet, familiar words assume new meanings, objects talk, trees attack, and time actually is money. Modeled on the cult classic 1969 hippie handbook of the same name, How To Keep Your Volkswagen Alive is an astonishing tour-de-force that tackles some of life’s biggest questions: How do you cope with losing a parent? What’s the secret to raising a child? How do you keep love alive? How do you get your car to start?

A Guided Tour Through the Museum of Communism by Slavenka Drakulic. Called "a perceptive and amusing social critic, with a wonderful eye for detail" by The Washington Post, Slavenka Drakulic - a native of Croatia - has emerged as one of the most popular and respected critics of Communism to come out of the former Eastern Bloc. In A Guided Tour Through the Museum of Communism, she offers a eight-part exploration of Communism by way of an unusual cast of narrators, each from a different country, who reflect on the fall of Communism. Together they constitute an Orwellian send-up of absurdities during the final years of European Communism that showcase this author's tremendous talent.

The Final Testament of the Holy Bible by James Frey. What would you do if you discovered the Messiah were alive today? Living in New York. Sleeping with men. Impregnating young women. Euthanizing the dying, and healing the sick. Defying the government, and condemning the holy. What would you do if you met him? And he changed your life. Would you believe?

The Postmortal by Drew Magary. Imagine a near future where a cure for aging is discovered and - after much political and moral debate - made available to people worldwide. Immortality, however, comes with its own unique problems-including evil green people, government euthanasia programs, a disturbing new religious cult, and other horrors. Witty, eerie, and full of humanity, The Postmortal is an unforgettable thriller that envisions a pre-apocalyptic world so real that it is completely terrifying.

Science Ink by Carl Zimmer. Body art meets popular science in this elegant, mind-blowing collection, written by renowned science writer Carl Zimmer. This fascinating book showcases hundreds of eye-catching tattoos that pay tribute to various scientific disciplines, from evolutionary biology and neuroscience to mathematics and astrophysics and reveals the stories of the individuals who chose to inscribe their obsessions in their skin. Best of all, each tattoo provides a leaping-off point for bestselling essayist and lecturer Zimmer to reflect on the science in question, whether it's the importance of an image of Darwin's finches or the significance of the uranium atom inked into the chest of a young radiologist.

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Now, if you'll excuse me, I shall google Santa's private line.

Procrastination feels sooooo good.

Muning, my study buddy

I am currently hating cell biology, because despite my fascination for processes and colorful textbook diagrams, I have zero background on biochemistry - the classes were early in the morning, and well, I'm like Muning here until around eleven am (a comfortable bed and Baguio City could only bring doom to a student).

I get to smile once in a while, too.

Welcoming the 40th Sorority Anniversary and an e-mail (finally) from the UPD IB's Deputy Director for Academic Affairs. A good morning, indeed.

Will probably spend the next five days studying for the diagnostic exam (cell biology, microbiology, genetics, physiology, developmental biology, taxonomy, and ecology). Wish me luck!

Essence

photo source

Biology teaches us that the central, most important part of a cell is its nucleus. It is where DNA is stored, and DNA is kind of what makes a cell function, as it is a set of rules, a history of activity and identity passed on and carried out for many generations. A cell, being the basic unit of life, is mastered over by the DNA in its nucleus.

And then you meet red blood cells. RBCs carry oxygen, and since they have to pass the tiniest blood vessels in our lungs, they have to be small enough, yet at the same time efficient. Hence in order to carry as much oxygen as it could while being able to squeeze through the tightest alveoli, a red blood cell loses its nuclues upon maturity.

I guess sometimes, we need to lose ourselves so that we could do what we are meant to do.