On Prop 37 and Genetic Modification

This is probably the California proposition I've heard talked about most, and it happens to be the one I care about the most. Prop 37, if effective in convincing agribusiness to abandon GM crops, would be expensive, but I'm more concerned about the expense of the lawsuit wars it would open up and the complete lack of impact it's likely to have on anything and everything.

Since the idea of Prop 37 is to give consumers choice, let's investigate that. First of all, the idea of labeling is to provide information, but it turns out to be information we already have. Essentially all conventional cotton, canola, corn and soybean products will be at least partially derived (and typically mostly derived) from GM crops. After that, sugar beets, squash and papaya are the only remaining crops for which commercial GM crops can be found. No genetically modified animals have been approved by the FDA. So, not a whole lot of uncertainty to be resolving there. Second of all, those opposed to or afraid of GMOs who want products containing one of these seven crops can buy organic or foods labelled GMO-free.

With this in mind, it's really very difficult to interpret Prop 37 as anything but a referendum on genetic modification itself. Unfortunately, the public understanding of genetic modification is rife with misinformation. There are a number of myths about genetically modified crops that I'd like to dispell (I'd like to credit NPR for some of the material here):

"Everything is GMO these days" and "We don't know what's GMO and what's not"
Like I said-- there isn't much mystery about what is or isn't genetically modified and only seven crops are even potentially GMO-- every tomato you can find in a store, no matter how anemically pinkish and tasteless, is GMO-free.

"Monsanto will sue you for growing their patented GMOs if traces of those GMOs entered your fields through wind-blown pollen"
This has more to do with Monsanto than GMOs, really, but this is a myth. The full explanation can be found on the previously-mentioned NPR article.

"GMO crops give people allergic reactions"
Genetic modification that may introduce allergens into crops is something the FDA specifically prohibits, looks out for and makes sure doesn't happen.

"Seeds from GMOs are sterile"
Way back in 1998, there was a big controversy when Monsanto suggested making GMOs with "terminator genes", which would make crops that could otherwise be replanted act instead like hybrid seedless watermelon seeds-- farmers would have to keep coming back to get their fix. The public outcry over this was enormous and Monsanto quickly shelved the idea, never to revisit it.

"GMO crops have animal genes in them"
Like the terminator gene, this was something people became very worried about in the late nineties. There was some conception of genetic modification creating half-animal frankenplants-- a silly fear that grossly overestimates our ability to change the genetic make-up of organisms. Nonetheless, US law prohibits inserting animal genes into crops.

"GMO crops are poorly understood"
This last one I'm going to take some time with.

The testing required for FDA approval of a new GMO is very expensive-- to the tune of 50+ million dollars. This is the reason that only a handful of crop varieties are genetically modified-- most vegetables don't have enough market share to justify such an expense (squash and papaya with virus resistance genes inserted were licensed before FDA approval became so expensive). Part of the testing is knowing exactly where the inserted gene is (transgene is the word used in science). There is also thorough testing of the gene product, or the protein that the gene codes for, to ensure that it is safe for human consumption. So, for every commercial GMO, we know exactly where the transgene is, what protein it codes for and we have extensively tested the protein for safety. To quote this article, "every major scientific authority on the subject – from the American Medical Association to the National Academies of Science to the American Dietetic Association to the World Health Organization – has confirmed the safety of eating currently approved foods made with biotechnology."

Genetic modification has been used in science since the early 70's, and for the last two decades transgenic organisms have been one of the most important tools used by scientists to learn about cell biology. I've personally genetically modified E. coli and I've worked with many strains of transgenic C. elegans. Those who understand the science of genetic modification and have personally worked with genetically modified organisms overwhelmingly support genetic modification as a technology to improve agricultural crops' productivity, nutritional content, disease resistance, environmental tolerance, etc., not to mention non-agricultural uses like making insulin and other drugs. Indeed, a number of Nobel Prize-winning scientists have come out against Prop 37.

At the end of the day, whether or not Prop 37 passes, I hope its existence on the ballot encourages conversation about genetically modified crops and that the public comes to a clearer understanding of what genetically modified food is, because there is a lot of misplaced fear. With a little knowledge, consumers can avoid GM food if they want, but GM food is unequivocally safe and therefore does not merit labeling. More importantly, Prop 37 is just a poorly-written proposition, written by and for regulation litigators (to whom it would create additional business) and organic grocery stores (who have an ideological axe to grind). It is opposed by scientists, farmers, food companies and the majority of California newspapers.

Back to Work

After basically nine months of unemployment, I start a new job on Wednesday with a nonprofit, open-access scientific publishing company. My job as a "publishing assistant" will be to coordinate between different experts to get scientific papers ready for publishing on our online journals.

The company works on a different business model than traditional scientific publishers. Instead of recouping the costs of publishing by selling journals to universities, we charge a flat fee that the researcher pays for us to publish their work and make it available to absolutely everyone. For reasons that are explained here, this is a very exciting development in scientific publishing and I'm proud to be working for a successful company that is leading the open-access charge.

I'm also stoked to be making a paycheck and have insurance coverage again, as well as to be doing something constructive in terms of a career. This is an industry that I can see myself prospering in for a long time, because while it makes use of my scientific background, I will not be doing any tedious, intricate bench research that I've found I am particularly unsuited to.

I've bought new shoes and pants so that I'll look presentable for work. Now I've just got to make a list of all the health problems I've been holding off on fixing since I last had insurance, two years ago.

September Update

It's been a long and interesting month. I'm just starting to feel settled into my new living arrangement.

This September was immediately preceded by moving out of my old house and moving Jill to Santa Cruz, where we broke up. After a week chilling with my sister, I returned to my new house. My three roommates were near-perfect strangers, my room was too full of boxes to fit a mattress and Jill wasn't the only person close to me to have moved on from Davis, just the most recent.

I started work again with Monsanto on the seventh. I'd gotten the job on the basis of an excellent recommendation from my old boss Staci, who I worked under during my internship. I knew I'd be facing a cut in pay, responsibility and interest of work. I'll be doing a complex assay to detect disease contamination in tomato seeds all year. I recently told Staci that my erratic thought-patterns are sub-ideal for the rather meticulous job, but that I'd get the rhythm of it soon enough. The tediousness of the job is saved by the pleasantness of the work environment. Everyone there is very cool and the nature of the job affords us some opportunity to talk.

It also turns out I won the roommate lottery. Mike is a nerdy but affable guy of understated intelligence that I think I could eventually become good friends with. Mereb and Celeste have the master bedroom. I was concerned that their hippy quirks might drive me crazy, but they're really open-minded and not even vegetarians. They turned me onto an awesome beer made by Pabst called Olympia. It's just as good as PBR, but the flavor is corn-driven instead of rice-driven. I suspect they used Cascade-style hops, which is kind of cool. Everyone is interesting to talk to and has a surprising number of things in common with me. I finally have a player for my records, I got my butt handed to me playing Axis and Allies and we might even get chickens soon.

Most of my free time this month has been spent in long conversations with old friends and writing this blog (four thousand unique hits and counting). A few you who know more than how to count will observe that it's been my most productive month of blogging thus far.

I've also been dabbling in TV shows, music and bonding with my new people. Mereb picked up a ping-pong table this weekend. I'd forgotten how much I liked that game. I went to Fry's with Mike on Sunday to check out computers. Yesterday I went to Vacaville Outlet Mall with coworkers and picked up some new shoes (green and white plaid converse, fyi).

I went to a KDVS show last week in Sac with Kern that his band was playing at. He and I both loved one of the bands there (Fall of Electricity), which embodied an intense, proggy drummer/guitarist formula that I've seen work really well a few times (other notable examples being the two-person incarnations of Afternoon Brother and Lightning Bolt). I bought Fall of Electicity's cassette, but I don't have a cassette player, so I'm going to download the mp3's it entitles me to and give away the cassette to the first person who asks, as per the guitarist's suggestion.

Howard has reclaimed an old mini-fridge and is trying to splice in a thermostat so that we can temperature-control fermentation for making sakes and lagers. The plan is to start a doppelbock this weekend and have bottles of it ready for Christmas. I've been scurrying to put together a recipe worthy of my "North Swell Bock" concept.

I've been thanking my lucky stars that Howard ended up sticking around for at least a little while longer. New friends are great and phone friends are great, but having a concrete piece of familiarity is priceless. It's interesting to chat with Howard on a one-on-one basis too. I've hardly ever had conversations with him as personal and thoughtful as they have recently been.

I've kept in contact with Jill and I think there's a decent chance the friends-afterward thing will work. She visited me last Sunday, partly to drop off the next books of a series she got me addicted to. We walked to Borders and talked. We don't talk like nothing's changed, but the familiarity is still there and it's nice. The whole visit was intensely bittersweet, though. Our hugs were the stuff of poetry. After she left I took a nap to both sort out my thoughts and disrupt their endless flow. I was off balance the whole rest of the day.

For those of you who keep asking me why we didn't stay together, please go back and read this. The reasons haven't changed and I have yet to (seriously) reconsider the decision.

For those of you who keep asking me how I'm doing, I'm doing fine. I'm doing better with each passing week. I have my moments, but mostly I feel surprisingly okay and that's getting more true with time. I think the good terms we parted on and the constant talk with friends has helped a lot.

That said, I've been dwelling a lot on the past and it is occasionally depressing. It's not just Jill, it's everything. I miss college things like watching TV and drinking beer with Brandon, bullshitting late at night and John Lazur giving me dubious advice. My being disgruntled about change should be neither surprising nor worrisome to any of you. I never pretended to like change, just to know it's good for me.

The Summer of Tomatoes Inaugerates

After months of unemployment, I finally have a job. I started a paid internship for the summer with Monsanto this week. Yes, that Monsanto. No, I don't care. I'm too in love with the idea of improving crops.

What am I doing? Well, if I told you I'd have to kill you. Seriously, I don't want to get dooced, so don't expect me to write any essays about my job any time soon. That said, here's what I can tell you:

I was hired to breed pathogen-resistant tomatoes this summer. Btw, long term projects are a longtime nemesis of mine and I'm looking forward to the face-off.

I've decided I'm going to pour my heart and soul into this job. I've got the capacity to do not just a good job, but an outstanding one, and now's the time to show it.

The job is in the neighboring town of Woodland, so I'm taking the Yolobus from Davis to Woodland and then biking the remaining four miles. I just got back from my first round trip that way. The good news is that it's definitely doable and I'll be getting good exercise this summer. The bad news is that it was raining on my way back, so I'm drying off as I write this.

The "site", as it's called, is the size of a small college campus. People actually use communal, floating bikes to get from place to place. I do too, because while riding a cruiser on loose gravel may be like walking on ice, riding a road bike on loose gravel is like walking on ice with stilts.

For the first time in my life I'm being paid by salary rather than by the hour and I am rather stoked. Not only am I being paid rather well, but if, including transit time, I happen to work two eleven-hour days in a row, nobody minds (except maybe Jill). Speaking in hypotheticals, of course...

The Beginning of Summer, The End of Spring

I caught a couple of deals on fruit this weekend at the grocery store that had the distinct whiff of summer.

Ever since my time at Albertsons, I've eagerly awaited the few weeks of early summer that raspberries are sold for under three dollars a pint. This was the first of those weeks and once more I reveled in the delicacy of my favorite of all fruits. I also bought some mangos on the cheap and made a mental note that strawberries have hit their bottom-out price of a dollar per pound.

Lastly and perhaps most significantly, cherries all over Davis have acquired the red hue that signals the conclusion of Spring Quarter. I took as many cherries as I could carry back from my Gardening, Orchards and Land field trip today, stuffing my belly, my pockets, my camera case, and my pant cuffs with the rosy jewels.

I associate this time with my homeland's May Gray/June Gloom, about a month of overcast weather that once signaled the end of school and the coming of summer. The end of school season has always had a grim psychological potency to it, but that's true now more than ever.

I graduate June 12th and a million pop culture sentiments about the mixed emotions that come with graduation swirl around in my mind (The Graduate cheif among them). I missed the application deadline for graduate school, so I've decided to find a lab tech job in Davis to support myself for the year and apply to grad schools this fall. I just resigned my lease on Saturday with my roommates. I picked up tickets for my family to attend commencement last Wednesday. I make a final presentation of my lab research next Friday. I wrote up my Curriculum Vitae on Tuesday.

Damn, graduation's scary. I need some cherries.

The Thirtieth Hour

I pulled an all-nighter not for my essay, not for a stupid game I'm newly addicted to, but for the inspiration to write you this. Feel blessed. Actually don't. I was kidding.

I love the loopy feeling of being fucked up by fatigue. It might be my drug of choice if it weren't for the vague notion of my head slowly imploding that assures me with a whispering voice of the certitude that I will come crashing down tomorrow.

Candy tastes amazing and I'm hardly concerned about anything. Perhaps tellingly, my most pressing concern right now is the progress of the aforementioned pernicious game. I have the craziest ideas and then I notice they aren't that crazy. Everything's at once magnificent and dull. Like, one of these jelly beans tastes like carrots and it's wonderful.

My NPB professor is talking about the horizontal vs vertical tradeoff in sound localization and all I can think is, "Why doesn't the owl have three ears?"

A Slice of Good Friday Mania

Today is Good Friday and I feel good. Really good. One cup of coffee and I feel like a demigod: potent, wise and I can practically see Fortune's broad grin beaming down at me. If this is what cocaine feels like, I ought never to try it.

I'm surprised it took me this long to find coffee. My first tentative steps towards the drink left me jittery. Somehow, its effect changed once I drank it with frequency. My hat is off to the people who predicted that. A coffee addiction sounds like fun. I haven't acquired one yet, but I hear it takes a little time.

My neurobiology professor is talking about sodium channels and action potentials and all I can do is silently laugh at the the phrase "refractory period". I wonder if I'm the only one in class who finds that uproarious. I guess information transmission is a beautiful thing...

If I was born to be anything, it was a critic. I love to make fun of people. Of course, it's a sign of familiarity and affection, but that's always been a tough sell for people who didn't grow up in a family like mine. Maybe one of the hangups is the ambivalence implicit in my critiques-- I'm as likely to say something flattering without prompting as harsh. I impose objectivity on unusual circumstances and it throws people off.

Max, God of Worms

For the last week and a half, I have been working in Dr. Lesilee Rose's lab. I'm being trained by a guy named Adam. Adam is very nice and laughs through his nose. He's taught me how to do a lot of the basic stuff around the lab. He's getting married this week.

I have a desk with a window. With a view! That's my desk lit by my window. I recently arrived on the perfect lunch: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a mason jar of tea.

The Rose lab studies developmental biology. Specifically, we study biological control of polarity during cell division. It ultimately plays an important role in body development, but we're concerned with things like mitotic spindles and protein gradients. Our lab is a "worm lab", which means that our studies focus on a worm called C. elegans. It is a tiny, near-microscopic worm that is grown on petri dishes.

C. elegans is a model organism like mice, fruit flies, and E. coli. Biologists extrapolate principles discovered in these organisms to understand more complex organisms. Much of the work in the lab revolves around the worms. I have learned to make plates and to handle the worms. I've also been making gels and running proteins. Adam pointed out that you could drink 90% of the chemicals in our lab and be fine. Biology: 1. OChem: 0.

Our lab uses hundreds of plates every week, so we have to make up new ones almost every day. First I measure some digested protein powder and agar into a large flask, pour in water, mix it up and put the flask into the autoclave for an hour and a half. We let it cool for another hour. As soon as it's not scalding I thread a sterile tube into the flask, through a dispenser machine, and back out onto the counter. I take stacks of empty plastic petri dishes and position the nozzle while the dispenser squirts the media into each. The machine measures with rhythmic pumping, so imagine holding a nozzle that is rhythmically squirting hot gooey liquid over and over and over again.

We handle the worms under microscopes with platinum wire picks using sterile technique. We can use the scooping method or the sticking method. I use the latter. I get some bacterial goo on the spatula and then dab the worms. With luck and a little practice they stick on. I can even get a bunch of worms on the pick at a time, writhing in a sticky ball. When it has too many, the worms keep falling off every time it's dabbed. My record so far is 19.

Thus, I am God of the worms, reigning doom with impunity on their little jelly world. Just like "the claw", I choose who will go and who will stay. Sometimes they go to a better place with a virgin bacteria colony and lots of space to lay eggs. Sometimes they get flamed till my platinum wire glows white hot.