Monday, January 21, 2019

Half taco, half potato.


When describing my ethnicity I used to say I was half-taco, half-potato. That seemed so much easier to say. On my father's side, I'm Mexican, Indian, and French. On Mum's, Scot-Irish and English. Not that I doubt who I am, but since the DNA tests are so prevalent and affordable, I wanted to try one out. 

So I get my kit and activate it online on their website. I had to spit in a vial. I send my saliva back. Boom.

Here's my timeline:
December 27th - kit activated
January 4th - kit received
January 18th - sample processing
January 20th - DNA extracted

Your DNA is being extracted.
How exactly do we separate your DNA from your saliva? It’s pretty simple. First, we get rid of the stuff we don’t want: proteins, fats, and carbohydrates. Then we save the stuff we do want—your DNA—by binding it to glass or magnetic beads. Your DNA then gets washed, removed from the beads, and is ready for analysis.

My DNA is currently being analyzed and the results should be in by February 8th.

Our lab techs have begun genotyping your DNA.
You've reached the final steps in the AncestryDNA process. During the genotyping phase, our AncestryDNA microarray reads and detects around 700,000 DNA markers or specific places within your genetic code. These markers provide unique insights about you; such as your ethnic origins, ancestors’ migration paths, and other living relatives that match your DNA


So, what do I want to get out of this?

I'm just curious if what my parents told me is true. They seemed vague when talking about our ancestry. I want to know exactly what percentage of Mexican I am. What percentage English. And anything in between. I'll post my results when they come in.

I'm hoping there's no can of worms to open.....

Saturday, October 20, 2018

Look who's baaack!

 This is an understatement.
     The cobwebs have cobwebs. 
         Eight years since my last post. 

Blogging used to be so therapeutic. I enjoyed hashing out my thoughts on paper. Not really directing them at anyone in particular. But it helped to pen it.
Nowadays people have Facebook. To hash it all out. To hash each other out. Times have changed. 

          So here I am. Back to therapy. 
           Back to penning my thoughts. 
To no one in particular.
            Back to ...not minding my own business...



Saturday, February 20, 2010

Let's make a memory!

I would always coin that phrase when I was with special people, going to special places. I love making memories. They endure. Unless of course at the end of the day, old age steals it away. Every feeling I can think of, love, companionship, happiness, even sadness, can spark up a memory. I love going back to them, what they bring back to me. So don't think those little gestures go unnoticed. They'll revisit like an old friend. Make your own memories. you'll always be part of someones life.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Before you judge.




Imagine for a moment you’re one of the poor, and you’re a Haitian. Hot, dusty climate where your meal for the day is the biggest challenge. Your dress is tattered and you have no shoes. Eating mud cookies to make your stomach thinks it’s full. Never really satisfying the hunger pains tho the cramps have long gone. Trying to console your young siblings because mama’s milk has dried up from malnutrition. School is not an option and you don’t know how to read and write. You don’t even have an understanding of what it’s like outside of Haiti, or how to survive. You, only out of ignorance, know how to break it down.

Then, the only thing that seemed secure, the land you live on, breaks apart. The shaking has toppled every structure in your city. Two families, eight of you lived on the second floor of a one room concrete hut. Now everything has crumbled, smashing everything in it’s way. It’s dark and you’re in pain. People are screaming, crying out for their families. You hear your little sister but you cannot get to her. Hours go past and some of the crying stops. The eerie silence frightens you more than your parched throat, the heavy concrete trapping your body, your pain. It’s dark and you’re afraid.

You feel like rescue won’t come and more hours pass. Your body and mind become numb and you start to get a bit delusional. You think you see Jesus, and all you ask for is water. More hours go past and you know in time this will be your tomb. You don’t remember but the rescuers heard you singing, and that’s how they found you. After 10 more hours of digging with their hands, they, your people, lifted your limp broken body out of the rubble. You were trapped for 62 long hours and everyone was amazed you had survived. You told them you saw Jesus before you slipped off into subconsciousness.

You wake up in a makeshift tent. Cardboard and twine keeping your broken legs together and a new wave of pain invades your body. Uncle is with you and gives you the sad news that everyone has died and you go numb again. All you want is the comfort of your mama. You can’t imagine living through the trauma you just went through. Afraid the earth is going to shake again swallowing everything up. Another day goes by and you finally get medical help. You’re one of the lucky ones. You didn’t die from your injuries.

 Uncle keeps asking where the help is? Everyone is starving. So very hungry and need water. People are dying everywhere in the streets and being left behind. Have you ever seen a dead person? Can you even imagine your loved ones in the street and you have to leave them. The stench of death can’t be escaped as their bodies begin to bloat and become unrecognizable. Soon, they’ll all be piled in huge pits and unceremoniously buried.

So please people, don’t judge the Haitians when they run for fear of tsunamis.
Don’t judge them when they fight for food. For that will decide life or death to them.
Don’t judge them when they get frustrated help has not arrived for they don’t see it.

They’re not watching CNN like us with our bellies full.
They don’t see all the countries pitching in. The bottle-necked airport. Trucks leaving in fear because of disorder in handing out supplies.

Please don’t judge the Haitians because they were born in a land of poverty and unrest.
Don’t judge them because they lived through the most horrible tragedy of their lives.
Don’t judge them because they are wounded, hungry, grief stricken and homeless.
Just help.

Saturday, January 9, 2010

So it's Socal.








We've moved.
To southern California.
Here are things I've observed thus far:
1. Hollywood is only glamorous if you're a star.
2. You can live on a nice street and the next can be sketchy.
3. The weather is glorious.
4. You can be in the mountains or on the beach in an hour or two.
5. There are thousands of yucca trees in the desert!
6. LA freeways aren't so scary.
7. Normal people really live here.
8. Most everyone seems friendly.
9. Job market not too great, but then again, we're in a recession.
10.The corn man ringing his bell at night is quite endearing.
11. They name their ditches.