Confessions of an Undisguised Drama Queen

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

A matter of perspective

I've been scouring the net for something relevant that might ease my slight dubiety but have come up with nothing. Apparently H1299 cells are not so popular with researchers. Everyone loves Henrietta Lack's cervical cancer cells but not this random Caucasian guy who magnanimously donated his NSCLC adenocarcimona cells.

Poor thing.

Me, I mean. So if anyone out there happens to work with this cell line, can you kindly tell me what its doubling time is like? Cos my cells seem to be progressing through the cell cycle at snail speed... maybe I should give them Red Bull or something? Or sing to them? Then again, that might just make them grow even slower.

Since there's tons of waiting time while waiting for my darlings to multiply, I thought a bit about my dad and I. Especially since it was his birthday just yesterday.

I used to be alot closer to my dad a few years back. I was Daddy's girl. I remember vividly that I would have multiple clashes with my mum - she would work long hours, we barely talked, and when we did, the similarity in both our characters was the perfect formula for disagreements and arguments.

Then things at home got a little messy. My parents stopped talking, accusations were made, denial, denial and more denial. They were never upfront about what was going on, so what I gather was based on my own assumptions and observations. Then they tried confrontation but it fell through and everything got swept under the carpet and never to be brought up.

It wasn't easy growing up in a situation like that. There was stress at school, the pressure of fitting in, adolescence, rebellion and on top of that the burden of being Daddy's girl. I was the only one present at home and naturally became my dad's Aunt Agony. Having to deal with that gave immense pressure and thus, slowly, I started to pull away, for my own sake. Anyway, I wouldn't be able to do anything to make things any better no matter how much I listened to his woes. Or so I thought.

Thinking back, I do feel bad that I wasn't able to give my dad the support he needed at that time. But to be fair, I probably wasn't even mature enough to handle it all.

As years pass, dust covers and the facts become blurry. No one really knows what happened exactly. We don't talk about it either. It's like taboo. Although I don't feel estranged from my family or anything like that, the shady past seems to have an subtle stirring effect on us. Maybe no one notices it but me. Point is, I'm no longer Daddy's girl. I love my dad, of course. But the closeness we used to share, the friendship, has become mere courtesy and respect.

Relationships are all about working things out together. Like they say, it takes two to tango. Nothing matters more than family, this I am still learning. I'm glad I took the initiative yesterday to have a celebratory dinner for my dad. It sort of reminded me how things used to be. There is still hope for us yet...

Solemn thought asides, I had a swishing good time yesterday on my brother's new old bike!

The road back to NTU was super long (plus the fact that we lost our way trying to find PIE) and exciting! Almost all senses are heightened when riding, as compared to driving. You can smell the exhaust, hear the other riders' conversations at traffic stops, feel the wind in your face and taste the... err humidity of the air?

The only impaired sense would be that of sight. Frankly, I must have been a pretty hilarious sight for the adjacent drivers and riders - I had half-closed eyes with a scrunched up face. Wind too strong mah...

When I finally get over the fear, I will take up riding lessons and get my own bike! One fine day... I think.

Just a dream?

[Time of Confession] 11:46 AM
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