Implanting Embryos Versus Implanting Knowledge

I am the oldest of my two sisters and thirteen cousins. I grew up in a close family where my cousins were like siblings. As a result, there were always babies in my life. For as far back as I can remember I have been changing diapers, burping babies, putting babies to sleep, giving babies their bottles, bathing babies, and dressing babies. I adored every baby in my family, but most of all my sisters. They were "my babies" and this is how I introduced them to people. I loved nothing more than helping my mom take care of them. Luckily, they have no permanent damage from a three year old carrying them around the house or putting them in a doll carriage. When I was 13 I job shadowed a doctor and watched a birth because I wanted to become an obstetrician (I gave that up once I learned that obstetricians are also gynecologists!). I have been crocheting baby booties since I was 15.

Call it a biological clock, or societal conditioning, or a result of my upbringing, or a combination of all three. Whatever it is, babies turn me to mush. Bring a baby in the room and all of my cynical, jaded wit is transformed into something I don't recognize. I become one of those strange people who wants to see the tiny little baby toes and who changes her voice to sound like a cheerleader who just inhaled helium. It's pathetic but the babies seem entertained.

As much as I love babies thinking of having my own someday brings up all kinds of questions and concerns. When I turned 23, the age my mother was when she had me, I thanked her for not killing me. Hell, I can barely keep a plant alive let alone a tiny human that can't talk and is dependent upon you for EVERYTHING. A part of me worries that I will miss my chance to have kids. I worry about finding someone to have one with (though these days that's not crucial). I worry that between school and a career there just won't be a good time to have a baby. I also worry that I'm just not cut out to be a mom. I fear that I will be one of those workaholic parents who is scarce. How does one find the energy and patience to work all day and then come home exhausted to juice boxes and Barney?

Then I consider the joy of being around those little minds. Sure, my childhood wasn't all roses and puppy dogs. But looking back, I realize I had it good. My mother was exceptional at letting me explore the world and learn by doing things. When I was two we were living in Germany and our back porch was filled with planter boxes. My mom designated one of the boxes as "Christina's garden" and let me have the whole thing to myself. I collected rocks and pinecones for my garden and with the help of my mom planted flowers and watched them grow. She let me catch bugs and bring them in the house. We even kept a caterpillar and watched as it went into a cocoon and hatched as a butterfly. We made our own playdough. She let me spend hours reading books in trees. She didn't complain when I did science experiments in the kitchen. She even bought me a microscope for Christmas one year. She never once yelled at me for painting myself with mud or mixing together strange concoctions of leaves, twigs and rainwater in the backyard.

I think I owe it to my mom, to society, and to myself, to foster a love for learning among those little minds. Perhaps I won't get the chance to pass on my genetics but I know first-hand that genes aren't everything. I like to believe that crossing over did not occur when I was being created and that I am a product of only my mother's gametes. If that isn't true than the only thing I got from the XY DNA is a lack of serotonin and the eyesight of an 80 year old who has presbyopia, myopia, and multiple cataracts.

Passing on your genes is one thing, but passing on your knowledge is what really makes you immortal.

Can You Hear Me Now?

Anyone who knows me well knows that I am not quiet. In fact, I have a bit of a volume control problem. My voice tends to fluctuate from a bearly audible whisper directly to an enthusiastic shriek that carries across rooms and hallways; there is not much middle ground when it comes to my voice. The whisper and loud shriek are definitely not in equilibrium as the loud shriek is favored and more energetically stable. As a result, I don't have much trouble making myself heard. Much of the time when I think I am being quiet the whole room can hear me. And let's not even talk about what happens when you get me laughing!

If being heard was all about volume, matters would be simplified. However, as we are all aware, being heard is also about effectively communicating yourself. Of course we all find ourselves having communication breakdowns now and then but typically I am used to having my opinions heard, even respected. I currently find myself in a situation where I feel that I'm not being listened to and I don't like it! I am in a leadership role at school and while I get the impression that the faculty respect my opinions and ideas I don't feel that my fellow peer leaders are very receptive to what I have to say. I don't know how to make myself heard without sounding overbearing or bossy. It's not that I want everything done my way, I just want to know that my ideas are being considered instead of feeling like they are being shot down on the spot.

Since I am so in tune with issues that women in science or in leadership roles face, I fear that I am just extra sensitive. You know, when you study a certain subject intently and you start to see it everywhere? Well, I don't want that to happen here. I don't want to cry, "Oh, the boys won't listen to me!" But yet, when one of the guys repeated an idea I had to the head of our group it suddenly was accepted. Did he actually not hear me? Is it because I am new and I haven't proven myself yet? Is it because he doesn't like me? Am I intimidating?

I want to be heard and it's not just about me. It's about the other students that we are supposed to be leading. I care about what they think of us. I care that we present ourselves in an organized and enthusiastic manner so that we can inspire these students to get involved.

I want to be heard but I also want to make friends, not enemies.

The Need to Achieve

There are few things in life that I consciously complete in a half-assed manner: making my bed, sweeping the floor, folding my clothes, and other such domestic duties. Hence the card on my bulletin board that says "domestically disabled".


With just about everything else in life, I strive to do my best. Yes, I know- perfection is an unattainable goal. No worries, I gave up perfection a few years ago. While I can give up being perfect, there is no giving up my innate need to put my all into everything. Most of the time, this need to achieve serves me well. It makes me a model student, an ideal employee....and oh, here lies the catch. The catch is that when you put all of yourself into everthing you do there isn't much room in your life.


I thrive on work and school. I complain about how I'm busy, tired, and don't have time for other activities. But, despite my complaints, I'm happy. I crave the hustle and bustle. I love being challenged. And for now, I suppose it is great that I am this way. It will get me through grad school and land me a great job. But then what?


While I'm not about to change my ways any time soon, I am aware that I need some balance. I need to take the time to foster relationships, to engage in activities away from work and school, and to enjoy my youth before it passes me by. Easier said than done.


My fear is not that I won't reach my academic or career goals but that I won't have the other things in my life that I would someday like to have. I guess, what I mean to say, is that I don't want to be alone. I also want to be a stellar mom, a great wife, and a loyal friend. I want to achieve at these things as well. I want to have it all. Right now, today, I'm not ready to say that I am willing to sacrifice any of these. I know I may have to, and that knowledge won't keep me from following the path I am following. But I also know that I have done a lot of things I didn't think I could. Perhaps I will be able to have it all. Only time will tell.

Ready to Conquer the World

I do not mean to imply that I wish to actually conquer the world. What I mean to say is that I am on the road to achieving more than I ever dreamed of. No longer do I cower in the shadows fearing incompetency, I say "Bring it on. If I can't do it, I'll learn how."

Last week I went to Xtown to attend an orientation and register for fall term courses. Being there made me reflect on how much I have changed, for the better, in the past three years. It was only three short years ago that I moved back to Ytown after moving away for a year. The circumstances of my move, both away from and back to Ytown, were certaintly not anything I want to brag about. Let's just say I did not have my shit together.

I found happiness in the most unexpected of places: in the periodic table, in dimensional analysis, in writing academically founded arguments, in taking derivatives, and in conversing with like-minded individuals who understood me. I learned to think for myself. I learned to like myself. As cliche as this sounds I cannot explain how free it feels to walk around happy in your own skin.

Never have I doubted that I liked science. What I did doubt was my ability to DO science. I was convinced I was stupid. Now I know that not only am I smart, I'm a hot ticket! I'm intelligent, have great work ethic, learn quickly, go above and beyond, and even have some decent social skills.

I no longer apologize for my existence. Instead, I shout "Watch out world, here I come!"

Thank you to everyone who has made me feel like a star. I'm the confident, happy, successful, lively person I am today because YOU took the time to show me how capable you believe I am.

Is there an equation for that move?

It is no secret that science is my passion in life. If you want to see me saturated with enthusiasm just engage me in conversation regarding such topics as nuclear magnetic resonance, bacterial communication through quorom sensing, levels of protein structure, or nucleophilic substitution reactions. I admit that NOVA Science Now is one of my favorite television shows and that I anxiously await the arrival of my weekly edition of Chemical & Engineering News. As proud as I am to be a gushing science nerd, I think it is important to be a multi-faceted individual. This summer, my sister and I are taking weekly belly dancing courses. How is that for multi-faceted?

I have been intrigued with belly dancing for several years now. One of the things I find most appealing about this dance is how it embraces all body types. There is no need to go on a ballerina diet it you want to belly dance. In fact, it seems that the curves (the ones we are SUPPOSED to have) of a women are what makes it so beautiful. I admire that belly dancers are confident in exposing their bellies, whatever size they may be.

What I had not realized about belly dancing was how it would challenge me to think in a way I am not accustomed to. The way I think when I am doing science is the way I think about the world much of the time. My analytical, logical, and systematic critical thinking does not stay at my desk when I leave for the day. During belly dancing class I find myself wanting to shout, "Can you draw a diagram of that move using arrows to show the direction of muscle movement?" or "Is there an equation for that move?" When I fall behind in class I stop moving and observe the teacher, an intense look of concentration upon my face. During one of these moments, a couple of classes ago, I looked over at my sister. I could tell she was a bit lost too. However, she wasn't just standing there analyzing the situation. She was dancing away to her own interpration of the move. She didn't care that she couldn't follow each precise movement that the teacher was making. Looking at her made me realize that standing there was just making me fall behind further. I'm so used to being in my head that it feels strange to just let my body move in a free fall sort of way. An unexpected outcome of this course is that I am learning that sometimes in life you should just stop thinking and do something already; there is a such thing as OVER analysis. Maybe before my next class I should hit happy hour to quiet my frontal lobe a bit.

Thanks sis, for not being afraid to be who you are :).

Red Nail Polish and Safety Glasses

As a little girl I was different: you could not categorize me as a "tomboy" or a "girlie girl". I loved to wear dresses but also climb trees, and yes, I climbed tress while wearing dresses. I insisted on painting my nails an array of different colors but never did this stop me from getting my polished fingers into a mud puddle to create squishy mud pies. To school, I wore bows in my braided long hair but at recess I played with the boys. After all, they were the ones who knew how to have fun at recess by using the time to unearth beetles and worms. My favorite picture of me as a girl depicts this dichotomy perfectly: I am wearing my pink glasses and my nails are painted bright red. Yet, my hands are muddy and I am proudly holding up a large toad I had just caught at the lake.

I hadn't thought about this in many years, until recently, when realizing how my wardrobe has changed in the past few years. I used to concern myself much more with looking fashionable and trendy. These days, being trendy seems like too much work. I have better things to think about and pour my time and energy into (not to mention my money). But for some reason, maybe because it is summer, I have been more observant of young women my age who have darling little handbags to go with their cutsie little shoes that go perfect with their jewelry and nice clothes. Part of me says- yuck, barbie girls. The other part thinks, "have I let myself go?" People wouldn't guess I think this. I put up a front that says "I don't care about this stuff, I'm an intellectual with better things on my mind." Much of the time this front is probably the reality but at times, secretly, I yearn to be told I'm pretty. I do care when I go out with my more "done up" girlfriends and the guys oogle over them.

It seems the dichotomy from my youth has become much more complex. You see, I want to be taken seriously and to be seen as a smart woman. Yet, I don't want to give up all of my feminine indulgences. It's true- I like painting my nails, wearing jewelry, and having nice clothes. But I feel like wearing nail polish and black dress pants makes you look awfully silly when you are working in a chemistry lab. I feel like wearing a skirt to class when you are a chemistry major makes you look like you belong in a different department. I catch myself thinking, "this shirt is way too girly for work" or "I better avoid the red nail polish and stick with the clear." Why? Why do I feel like I have to tone my femininity down? I'm not sure what it is I'm picking up on, maybe it's just me, but I tend to be dead on when it comes to these unspoken rules.