Genetic analysis of mitochondrial DNA of any two individuals can tell you how long it has been since they shared a mother.

Mitochondria are very ancient cell structures that were incorporated into the cell by engulfing a primitive bacteria. Although most of the original mitochondrial DNA has migrated to the nucleus, a subset of genes are still retained within the mitochondria’s own genome. Because the mitochondria is so critical for producing all the energy our cells use, it is super important that mitochondrial proteins remain stable and do not show as much variability as other genes. To accomplish this, mitochondrial DNA do not undergo the normal processes of meitoic recombination that nuclear DNA does. Therefore, mitochondrial DNA is highly conserved throughout generations, more so than the nuclear genome. Another interesting point is that mitochondrial DNA is passed maternally. For whatever reason, more mitochondrial DNA is present in the egg than in the sperm. So, one can trace an individual’s maternal lineage through looking at mitochondrial gene sequences.

Whew. So what was the point of all that? I’m not just trying to lecture you about science. This got me thinking… If we go back far enough, we all came from the same mother. Somewhere up in heaven is an old African woman looking down at all of her great great great great (great)^n grandchildren. And that woman is wondering, “What they hell are they doing?”

Yesterday, I was so angry at random strangers for small actions. But maybe they had a bad day. Or maybe they’re just jerks. But hey, I have three brothers who can be jerks but they’re still my brothers. It’s not just my personal life, but larger conflicts around the world. The front page is full of war in Libya or suicide bombings, or just last night my classmate heard gunshots at a basketball court in the shady part of town – six people were wounded with one in critical condition. Maybe world leaders and gang leaders alike need to learn a little something about mitochondrial genetics.

So yeah, I think I can forgive those jerks. Because we all come from the same mother.

And they say you don’t learn anything useful in the first year of med school..

Life lessons from mitochondria is a post from: The Trouble With Crystal

(If you haven’t heard the story, you can read the full version here)

Yes, often times we can jump to conclusions about others being a jerk. But sometimes… people are really just jerks. I admire those with the personality that can just let little things slide. I can’t. I dwell on them enough to the point that I have to blog about it.

While waiting for the Blue Man Group concert to start in San Francisco, the women in the theater all decided to use the sole restroom. The line stretched out into the lobby. I walked a path to the end of the line that was perpendicular to the line itself, while at the same time another woman with the same destination walked a path along the length of the line. We reached the end of the line at the same time. Gesturing to let me go ahead, I politely thanked her and took the spot. Five minutes later, she shoves me from behind and yells, “Hey! I was letting you pass, not letting you cut me in the line!”  I should’ve said, “You offered me the spot, and please don’t touch me again.” Instead, I let her push me around (quite literally). I mumbled sorry and walked to the end of the line, which had grown much longer in the five minutes she waited to yell at me.

Adjusting to a new city is difficult. At the very least, I would expect people to follow the laws and thereby give me some sense of predictability. While crossing the street at a traffic light pedestrian crosswalk, a biker suddenly zoomed past and nearly hit me. “Hey man, that’s a red light!” I yelled at him, flustered from the near-miss.  ”Crystal! Shut up!” My boyfriend yelled at me, “You don’t want to start a fight.” That’s what you should do though, fight for yourself, and don’t let anyone prevent you from doing so. A world where people run red lights? Where are we, in a developing region of Asia?

This weekend I wanted to buy some postcards from this new city, so I stepped in a gift shop. The owner sharply informed me that she didn’t have change and did I have small bills. I asked my friend to borrow some cash, and he placed the bills onto the counter. The owner scowled something that I didn’t hear, so I asked her to repeat herself. “It’s disrespectful to throw money at people.” Well, it’s also disrespectful to lecture your customers. If I were less of a wuss, I would’ve taken my ‘disrespectful’ money and my business elsewhere.

Today I was eating lunch on a bench. Two students passed by and threw their bottle into the trashcan right next to me and missed. The bottle rolled under my bench. They walked away. I threw away their trash. Not only jerks, but also inconsiderate of the environment and lazy.

The list could go on and on, but these are the first examples that pop into my head. We were all raised to be considerate of others, and I’m sure no one purposefully tries to be inconsiderate, yet why are there still so many jerks out there? I guess the conclusion isn’t that they are jerks, but rather that they are idiots.

Jerks exist, no really, they do. is a post from: The Trouble With Crystal

Before leaving for Oxford last year, I happened to receive an email from the police department that they had recovered my lost (read: stolen) bike. I took a look at it, and against advice to scrap it, I decided to buy the parts to fix it up. Three hours and fifteen dollars later, I had myself a pretty workable bike.

Seeing that my bike would have no use for anyone in storage during the spring semester, I sent an email out to my dorm list offering to lend it out until I returned in the fall. One unnamed person took me up on the offer, and, after cautioning him to use his own lock (since I didn’t have one), I left the bike in his care.

When I arrived back on campus after the summer, I sent the unnamed person an email inquiring about the whereabouts of my bike. He tersely informed me that it had gotten stolen two weeks into the semester. I was furious. Why didn’t you use a lock like I had told you. and WHY AREN’T YOU OFFERING TO PAY FOR IT? I had to send him an email offering my sympathies (and veiling my anger), and coyly suggesting that he reimburse me for the bike. He offered me $40 – a fair value given the shape it was in.

That was the last I heard from him. After multiple emails asking for the payment, he never responded to a single one. Too bad I don’t know him personally (we never met face to face, just arranged everything over email) or I would go over and demand the payment. It’s not really the $40, it’s a pretty miniscule sum. It’s more the fact that this guy is a jerk for losing my bike, then refusing to pay after already offering to pay.

It’s been a whole year already. C’mon. We’re graduating in two weeks. Do people seriously act like this past middle school?

Lessons learned: Never EVER lend something out of kindness to someone you don’t know. And never skip six weeks of microeconomics and expect to learn it all in the last week.

Do you have a similar story? Share your comments!

Bike Jerk is a post from: The Trouble With Crystal

“What?”

He’s staring blankly at me, clearly distracted. “Oh.. I don’t know, I think it’s in the lecture slides somewhere…”

“You really don’t look like you want to work on this problem set.” Oh underclassmen…

He’s grinning that guilty smile, like he wants to tell me something.

“It’s my birthday this weekend. My boyfriend is taking me to the San Jose Sharks game.”

“Oh cool!” I’m smiling. They had only recently gotten back together, so good for them.

“And then I’m going to donate blood in the blood drive organized by them and Stanford.” He looks so happy and excited…

“Oh..” Try not to show your thoughts, Crystal.

“I don’t know if you know this but…” How am I supposed to explain this to him?

“They don’t exactly…

allow…

menwhohavehadsexwithothermendonateblood.”

There, I said it.

“What do you mean? Why not?”

“They’re paranoid of HIV.”

He’s not responding. Maybe I should keep talking.

“It’s a really stupid rule. It’s just a relic from the old days when they didn’t know what was causing HIV and the blood supply would get contaminated.”

Still no response.

“You see, these days they test for HIV in everyone’s blood after it’s collected, so there should be no risk. But still, they won’t accept you.”

Finally, he’s about to say something.

“What will they do if I show up?”

“They will literally turn you away. They will say, ‘I’m sorry but you cannot donate blood in the US.’”

“But not all gay men have HIV. I don’t have HIV.”

I don’t know what else to say. I can’t explain it to him, because there really is no explanation. I’ve never experienced a silence so loud before.

“Guess I’m not doing that then.”

Read Bad Blood Part I

Bad Blood Part II is a post from: The Trouble With Crystal

Gchat: Thank you for being my main vehicle of communication with friends. Thank you for  importing my aim contacts so that I don’t have to open two chat clients, or rather, even launch one at all.. Oh, and thank you for adding people automatically, like my professors and TAs, so I can always know when they are ignoring my emails.

Good Chinese food. Thank you! It’s so hard to find a good place to eat these days. I usually hate going to other Chinese restaurants, but that’s because there are so few good ones out there. That’s why I am thankful that places like the Hong Kong seafood bistro on Castro Street we ate at tonight exist; thank you for not drowning every item in soy sauce, for not having a signature dish of hot and sour soup or General Tsao’s Chicken, and for serving peanuts with MSG (much to the distaste of health conscious Americans). Usually you can be indentified by the predominantly Chinese makeup of your customers, and to the few patrons of other ethnicities, you have my props.

Gummi coke candy. Have you ever tasted such a perfect fusion of taste and texture? Miniature shaped cola bottles that fade from dark brown to clear. Perfect to leave in your mouth and melt, suck along the length of the bottle, or chew impatiently and immediately pop another. Caution: 1 pack may not last as long as you would like, but multiple packs may result in binge popping. Thanks!

Roommates: Thank you for putting up with me while I had swine flu, for protecting yourself from my virus hacking coughs, for always letting me in when I forget my key (like today), and for being faithful company to weekly senior pub nights. Thank you for letting my boyfriend crash on our couch when he’s too drunk to drive home, and letting your own drunk friends crash in our room.

Verde Milk Tea: Thank you for being probably the only other perfect combination of food and texture; for the perfect amount of frothiness with the perfect flavor. Thank you for the free wifi, unlike starbucks, so that I can bring my homework and thus not feel guilty about driving 40 minutes just to have you. And thank you for always running out of my favorite flavor, rose, and for always closing right when I have my late night milk tea urges. Also, thanks for keeping my wallet empty.

My Levi’s Skinny Jeans: Thanks for being the perfect companion to a night on the town. Whenever I’m in the mood for a little booze, you’re always there. Along with some pumps, you make all the guys stare and buy my drinks. Thanks for keeping my wallet a little fat.

and YOU! I know this is cheesy, but its true. Thanks for reading my pointless ramblings and thoughts about my life. Thanks for caring. And thanks for being the amazing people who have touched my life.

My Thank You List: Gchat, milk tea, and more is a post from: The Trouble With Crystal

We’ve all experienced how stressful it is to host a guest. Well-meaning extensions of friendship quickly turn sour when boundaries are crossed, or when a guest overstays his or her welcome. I’ve heard complaints about everything from financial incursions to physical space taken up, but the most stressful part of hosting, for me, is the emotional burden of needing to keep my guest entertained. One time my freshman year of college, I had three friends visit me two weeks apart. I ended up taking a friend to the same attractions in San Francisco three times. And no matter how much they insist that I should finish my homework and not worry about them, I still feel bad doing work. Don’t get me wrong, I love my friends dearly; in fact, probably there in lies the root of my problem: I’m not ok with just acting as a guesthouse for my friends.

I’m generally on the other side of the relationship, whether it is bumming on my friends’ dorm room floors, visiting relatives, or staying with the friend of a friend. And for all you who generally host your friends more than is reciprocated, let me tell you that, being a guest is stressful too! As a guest, I constantly feel like I am overburdening my hosts, on top the emotional instability from not having a place of my own. Even if I help with the chores, keep my clothes in a neat little suitcase,  make friends with my host’s housemates, and offer to help pay for gas, I am still aware of the undue stress I add to my host.

Hosts tend to complain about guests, but you gotta give ‘em a break, because guests get stressed too! It seems like if both parties are experiencing stress, there must be some way to resolve the issue. Until a solution is found, I’ve come up with a solution of my own. Lots of books and websites will tell you rules about being a good guest/host, but it all boils down to one simple maxim: avoid hosting and being a guest as much as possible.

Be our guest: the stressed out host and guest is a post from: The Trouble With Crystal

“But why?”

“You’re too petty.”

A little over a year later, I don’t know why, but we start talking again. a lot. For the past week, we’ve been talking on the phone for over three hours a night. You know that I still like you, that I still haven’t gotten over the idea of us. And you say that you care for me, but you still don’t like me because I’m ‘petty’. I know I’m petty, I tell you. I’m working on it, trying not to get pissed off over little things, trying to not hold grudges and stay mad for a long time. I really am getting better.

Last night you called me in the middle of a party. When I told you that I would call you later you replied, visibly (or audibly, in this case) frustrated, that you were going to sleep. I felt pretty bad after that and I wasn’t able to enjoy the party or go to sleep for hours.

Today when you called, I told you that the way you said those things hurt my feelings. You told me to stop being so sensitive. Am I just being petty again?

“So what does petty mean to you?” I ask.

“Making something that’s not a big deal a big deal.”

It wasn’t even that big a deal, but the fact that you just completely dismissed how I felt makes me wonder whether you really care about me, whether you really care about anyone’s feelings. You are not even listening to me.

Or maybe I should just let this slide. I am clearly getting more upset over this, while he is sleeping peacefully, ignorant of how he has made me feel. What is the use of getting mad?

Caught in between my desire to assert myself and the desire to prove to you that I’m not petty, I am paralyzed and hurt.

That’s why we’re breaking up is a post from: The Trouble With Crystal

Read a previous introspective post where I grapple with the difficulty of saying goodbye to my grandmother for the last time here.

I started a twitter poll asking others how their lives have been affected by cancer, and pledged to donate 1$/response to the American Cancer Society. I hoped that this contest would not only raise awareness about cancer, but also form a support network for me. It’s comforting to know that so many others have gone through this, to whom I can seek advice.

Here are the responses to the question: How has your life been affected by cancer?

RT@ redrobinrockn oh sweetie, so sorry 2 hear that. I understand. I lost my beloved brother 2cancer. I wish I could hug you right now

RT@ mckayzoo1year breast cancer survivor.Life is good& I have hair again!

RT @lmyeaney 1 grandmother passed from throat cancer, and the other is a lung(12yrs) & breast(3yrs) cancer survivor!

RT@bnax: my mom has been fighting cancer for nearly 16 years

RT @ChoosingChange my mother has lost two close friends to cancer. When I was a teen a friend died from lung cancer

bnax@troubledcrystal my mom has had cancer for 15 years going on 16 soon and she is still fighting it every day

karebear3261@troubledcrystal My husband went into a major depressive episode after being his mother’s caregiver…she had lung cancer

inedia_bella@troubledcrystal My grandmother died from it. My aunt had a double masectomy because of it.

ChoosingChange@troubledcrystal my aunt is battling breast &now possibly blood cancer. Her amazing attitude encourages those that should be encouraging her

ChoosingChange@troubledcrystal she was diagnosed after her husband finished such intense chemo treatments that they were not allowed to use same washrooms

alicencrazyland: Lost both parents to cancer thus my mental health issues. Smoking is no joke!

That’s 10 responses for 10$

Thanks to everyone who responded!

Learning how others’ lives have been affected by cancer is a post from: The Trouble With Crystal

1) I’m so happy that I either don’t have time to blog because I’m busy enjoying life, or I don’t need to blog to release my emotions

2) I’m so busy and stressed out academically that I don’t have time to write

3) I’m too depressed start writing

It’s been almost a week since my last entry, and as I reflect back on this past week I must say that it’s definitely not option number one. Blogging is just like any habit, once you miss out once, it’s easy to continue missing out, and every day missed brings down my self esteem. Every day, it was just so easy to spend that last hour of my day stressing instead of destressing. Over the weekend, I slept almost twelve hours every day (on Saturday I woke up at 4 in the afternoon) and canceled just about every commitment I had (dance practice, chorus performance, elderly center volunteering, squash game). It seems that I’ve entered a state of stress-induced paralyzation and lethargy.

Some of you may have seen my facebook and twitter status last night: FML FML FML FML FML. Today at four I had a twelve page essay due, for which I had only started writing last night. Halfway into the night, with twelve pages of bullshit and hours of reading left to go, I could not manage to focus my attention on my work and kept watching Taylor Swift videos on youtube. I was also craving chocolate cookies but could not gratify myself. It’s funny how despite the fact that I have less assignments this week, my stress level was higher. Even though I’ve dealt with writing papers of equal length every week, for some reason I couldn’t handle it last night. Looking back, I have absolutely no idea how I went from twelve blank pages to twelve pages of text, and I also have no idea where my 16 hours went. But in the end, no matter how far away from completing your work you think you are, work always gets completed.

As I crawled into bed tonight, with no intention of writing, my mind started to race – as it usually does when I try to sleep – and I could not fall asleep despite having only slept two hours last night. That’s when I decided that I should finally get out my laptop and write down what it is that is bothering me.

I have a friend who has feelings for me, but I don’t have feelings for him. It’s strange because theoretically he is just my kind of guy: smart in a specialized field (biomechanical engineer going to grad school next year), yet cares about receiving a liberal education (takes random classes like psychology), has similar interests (was in my Chinese history and literature classes), and knows how to have fun (is my dance partner in the dance competition). My friend (the green elf) even told me that he sounds perfect for me. But the laws of attraction cannot be explained, and I just am not attracted to him.

This is not a situation that is foreign to me. It’s actually pretty common for my guy friends to like me. My roommate says she can see why: because I’m pretty open and warm to others. Generally though, my friends are pretty far away and I can just let the situation smolder. Additionally, we were very good friends to begin with, so after the fact we can return to being good friends.

However, in this case I only met him at the beginning of the term and am living in the same building with him for the next five weeks. If I deliberately ignore him, a) it will be quite obvious and require significant effort on my part, and b) we won’t just go back to being friends – but will probably not continue to develop our young friendship.

I had the sense that he liked me since the beginning of the term. One night I had a nightmare in which I dated a tall Asian guy who looked remarkably similar to him; in the nightmare, I let myself agree to see the man, even though I didn’t like him and ended up feeling horribly trapped in a relationship I never wanted.

In my wakeful life, I’ve been pretending to play dumb to all his signals. However, I have a feeling that I can’t keep putting it off anymore. He is a pretty forward guy, and it wouldn’t surprise me to hear him confess his feelings for me soon. Today, I heard it through the grapevine that he has been confiding in our classmates about his frustrations over how I don’t respond to his signals. Our dance competition is this Saturday, and he proposed a celebratory dinner afterwards – somehow I feel like he is planning more than a celebration of our dancing.

Sigh:: so what is bothering me is – how do I let him know that I am not interested in him, without hurting his feelings and still keeping the possibility of developing our friendship? What should I do if he does confess his feelings for me?

Blog neglect (a sign of depression?) and romance troubles is a post from: The Trouble With Crystal

If you haven’t checked it out yet, a piece I wrote was featured in American Goulash, a blog about growing up in a cross-cultural environment.

Also please reply to my poll in the feedback page to let me know what you would like to see more of!

Full moon overlooks Jericho neighborhood

solitary midnight biker

Hotel worker in kilt uniform gets off work and greets his friend on bike

last bus of the night takes midnight commuters home

Street lamps light up a panel of ghost houses

homeless man uses store light to read

Kabob vans serve hungry late night customers until 3 am

a girl, a mailbox, and a sign post

Drunken wanderings in the night is a post from: The Trouble With Crystal