A month after my birthday

I’ve spent the last two hours reading an issue of National Geographic. Sitting down and trying to reflect on what I’ve just read is a fresh reminder that one of my weaknesses is retaining information, and that I enjoy reading and imagining. I read an article, three of which I remember the topics of.

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One was about the diversity of dog breeds, and how their greatly varying features only rely on fifty or so genetic switches. One particular gene switch determined whether the dog’s coat was long or short, while another single gene caused the size difference between a Pug and a Great Dane. It’s fascinating, the idea of genetic traits that determine our every feature, our skin and eye color, tone of our voice, length of our legs, size of breasts and strength of muscles, intelligence, vulnerability to to certain diseases, even our personalities, like a tendency to keep a promise or to lie, or to be imaginative or hard-working.

The very idea that these traits that make us individuals rely on a biological code structure that we share, is indeed remarkable. I wonder, if I were to be presented with an opportunity to improve my genetic code by a genie in a bottle, would I? And if it were for another person? It’s too big of a question for me to fathom right now. It’d be like playing God.

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Another was about a recently discovered work by Leonardo da Vinci. The work, a portrait of a Milanese girl named Bianca Sforza,  changed hands multiple times, each previous owner oblivious to the fact that it was a da Vinci. An instinctive hunch of the latest owner led to him contacting a professor who might know more, which turned into a collaborative research, revealing more and more evidence that until finally being confirmed that it was an original work. Again, I was fascinated. These people had a drawing that was over 500 years old, and they were able to look into the painted girl’s clothing and hairstyle to find what city and era she was from, which coincided with the place that da Vinci was at in that time, Milan. Then they looked at lists of patrons of da Vinci and found the family and their family heirloom book, and the painting fit right into that book. Detective work at its best.

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The third extensive article focused on tsunamis. I live in the bay area, an region known for its tremendous terrestrial tremors. As I read the article, I envisioned an earthquake.

Twenty minutes past midnight, I lay on my sides tucked in my bed half-asleep. My eyes see a familiar shade of black-nothing, thinking about occurrences of the day and possibilities of tomorrow. I begin to drift into fantasy, envisioning a sweet kiss and a loving embrace, projections of my subconsciousness. I look into a pair of  beautiful eyes that understand my soul, looking right back at me. It is a divine moment, a frozen moment in time that will surely be ingrained in my brain. I would love to stare forever into those eyes  but suddenly I am jolted back into reality when the window starts to rattle. First, a quite rattle, as if struck by a gust of head wind. But I do not hear wind. he moment I finish that thought, the room begins to shake violently. I lose all train of thought as my entire existence is fixated into my room as the startling sound of shattering glass, objects falling off my desk, and the low-pitched groan of my walls adds  more terror to the fact that the world is shaking. A shrill scream of a woman and a dozen car alarms add to the panicked chaos in my mind

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