Clone wars

To clone or not to clone, that is the question. Soon it won’t be a question of when, but should, scientists or fertility doctors clone human beings?

Dr. Panayiotis Zavos is just one of many in the race to successfully clone a human.

Will the controversy fade away, like the initial opposition to in vitro fertilization? Or is there more – ethically, socially, morally – at stake with the question of cloning? What do you think?

Guys can’t help it?

This article is brought to you courtesy of James, over at Why I Hate DC. Tom Knott of the Washington Times tries to explain how Kobe couldn’t help but cheat. And although infidelity is a part of every male’s true nature, Bryant is still a nice guy.

If I hadn’t read this, I would not have believed it was published.

“Tell you what. Imagine you are a young man with a zillion dollars in your pocket, a famous face and all these hot, young things cooing in your direction.

What do you do? Do you take a cold shower or do you toy with the flirtatious attention?

Right. An average guy and an interested babe leads to a cold shower.”

What do you guys think about that?

What’s in a name

I’m feeling uninspired, so I clicked on today’s Friday Five questions.

1. Is the name you have now the same name that’s on your birth certificate? If not, what’s changed?

It’s the same name.

2. If you could change your name (first, middle and/or last), what would it be?

I love my name the way it is.

3. Why were you named what you were? (Is there a story behind it? Who specifically was responsible for naming you?)

I give naming credit to my wonderful mom. You can read the story here.

4. Are there any names you really hate or love? What are they and why?

Tiffany. Read the post above.

5. Is the analysis of your name at kabalarians.com accurate? How or how isn’t it?

Hmmmm… I dare say not quite accurate. The first half is all wrong, the second part gets warmer but still doesn’t nail my personality.

“You have a great love of nature and the out-of-doors.” I have a great appreciation for nature, but given the choice of camping or checking into a 5 star resort, point me to the concierge.

If these points were true I’d be out of a job – “Difficulty in expression results in your being too positive, blunt, and candid in speech and although you are easily offended by others, you do not show it.”

The Second Half:

“You crave affection and understanding, but rarely find it as others do not understand you and accuse you of being cool and aloof. The average person would never realize the true depth of your nature. A very individual, independent person, you live within your own thoughts.”

Well, that was interesting.

The most important meal of the day

As a rule, I don’t eat breakfast. Digesting solid food before 10:00 a.m. makes me feel sick. It has never been a favorite mealtime.

On the other hand, I do enjoy brunch on the weekends. Sitting down with friends for a leisurely meal and all-u-can-drink Mimosas or Bloody Mary’s is heaven.

My protege popped into my office this morning rambling on and on about breakfast sandwiches. And suddenly I was ravenous and wanted food.

I threw on my black raincoat and headed out in search of breakfast. I went to Cosi, to Luna, to the little cafe down the street and in desperation, to McDonald’s.

But the joke is on me. Apparently the entire city of DC stops serving breakfast at exactly 10:59 a.m. You can purchase a cheeseburger at 10:30 a.m. but not a McBreakfast Sandwich. In my book, 11:00 a.m. is still MORNING and perfect time for BREAKFAST.

Oh well… I settled for a gigante cafe latte instead (yes, I broke down and welcomed caffeine back into my life).

The power of song

When I listen to the first few bars of an old tune, my heart slows down. I mouth the familiar lyrics, but am gone, transported to another time, another place.

My life is a montage of scenes set to a compilation of music.

Knock Three Times by Tony Orlando

A little girl dressed in denim Osh Kosh B’Gosh overalls spins round and round, her arms outstretched and her thick hair swinging around a tiny waist. A woman turns from a window and warns her to stop before she gets dizzy and falls. The child stops, beams a smile at the woman and stomps her scuffed Mary Janes three times on the hard wood floor in time to the chorus of the song in the background.

Yesterday by The Beatles

A pretty lady stands at a kitchen sink, rinsing dishes through the faucet before placing them on a drying rack. Wiping her hands on a red skirt, she bends down to hug two children playing at her feet. She gives them each a cookie before grabbing a dustcloth and leaves the room.

Are You Lonesome Tonight? by Elvis Presley

My mom is crumpled on the living room rug, hugging a creased album cover to her chest. Black tears stream down her cheeks and she sobs. The King is dead.

Lady by Kenny Rogers

Colored lights blink on and off around an artificial tree. My dad reaches down and grabs a large box. I tear at the snowman wrapping paper, ripping it off a new stereo. Together, we anxiously connect the components. And now, to test it out, he hands me a record.

Karma Chameleon by the Culture Club

The navy blue sleeping bag is so plain compared with the brightly colored ones depicting Strawberry Shortcake and Barbie. I had been so excited to receive an invitation, my first official slumber party, but now I just wanted to go home. Dee’s little brother has been annoying me all night, so I call him a “buster” and tell him to leave me alone. Her mom heard and chastised me in front of everyone in the kitchen. “Young lady, we don’t use that kind of language here.” In spite of the heat rising to my cheeks, I grit my teeth and apologize.

Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin

The last song of the last school dance. A freshman girl stares after her crush, the senior God. He’s standing alone by the bleachers. She plays with her Swatch and thinks, it’s now or never. Blood pounds in her ears as she walks toward him and asks for a dance. With a shrug, he grabs her hand and leads her onto the gym floor. She’s in bliss for 8 minutes while a huddle of girls whisper and point in their direction.

Red, Red Wine by UB40

Holly’s parents are vacationing in Hawaii for the week. I follow her to the garage where she finds the spare keys to her mom’s Lincoln. Music blares out the moonroof as we cruise the back roads of our small town. We are 14 and oh, so cool!

It Takes Two by Rob Base and DJ E-Z Rock

The steps are very narrow and steep in the dark passage. We climb in single file. I run my hand over the damp stone, wondering what it must have been like to live in Warwick Castle in 1000 AD. Cold, I imagine. I climb and climb with no end in sight. Finally, I reach the top and am outdoors. It was my first time in England. My first time away in a foreign country. And I was thrilled.

Stripped by Depeche Mode

I’m driving faster than I should be. The wind whips my hair, so I yank it back with a scrunchy. I take a deep breath of the salt air. In minutes, I park the car, pull off my shoes, and walk on the beach – my toes sinking into the wet sand. Solitude is priceless.

Magic Carpet Ride by Steppenwolf

The digital clock reads 4:00 a.m. It sounds like a herd of elephants are stampeding thru the halls. The bedroom door bursts open and a guy grabs my arms and starts yanking me out of bed. A raid! Later, I’m reclining on a dirty brown velour couch, my eyes half-shut, yet watching as two guys swallow a tank-full of live gold fish for breakfast.

Take a Chance on Me by ABBA

Why doesn’t he love me anymore? We were so happy. He was my confidante. The mixed signals are killing me. We aren’t together, but he still stays over occasionally. Why am I doing this to myself? Because I think I love him.

Frozen by Madonna

A girl rides on the handlebars as a guy peddles furiously past us. We’re walking along one of the canals. Amsterdam is a city of bicycles. A few days later, the Champs Elysees is crowded with people. I’m a little buzzed after a liquid lunch at Cafe Voltaire by Musee D’Orsey. Someone beside me laughs and repeats “Ou est? ” “Ou est?” – mocking my feeble attempts at speaking French in the city of lights.

There are so many songs – so many moments. I’ll stop now before I bore you to tears. This is a mere sample of the jukebox that stores the memories I cherish.

What special songs move you?

The funny thing about memory

I remember yellow butterflies that covered my bedroom walls. My favorite dress had a long white eillet skirt with plump strawberries that bordered the hem. Each day I would place a disc on my record player and watch in wonder as a series of scenes played across the front panel of the box.

I was 4.

Years later, pale pink paint replaced my legion of butterflies in a bedroom of a new house. I was rummaging through the attic and noticed an oversized cardboard box in a corner. Moments later, I lifted a plastic case out from a tangle of disgarded toys.

The cover slid off easily. I gazed down on the familiar knobs. My fingers closed around one of the brightly colored discs. It was thicker than I remembered. I cranked up the machine and waited for the magic box to mysteriously play the images described in the song.

But something was wrong. This couldn’t be my player. The same scene scrolled across the front of the case, repeating over and over regardless of the disc. I distinctly recalled my delight as the machine would conjure new episodes for each new song.

I was 11.

Sitting crosslegged in that dim space, I swallowed hard on disappointment. I suddenly understood that the two players were one and the same. I couldn’t help wishing I’d never discovered the truth. My memory was so much better than the reality.

From that day on, I was aware that my recollections weren’t always true. The enchanted universe I grew up in was different from the one I presently inhabited.

The world lost a little bit of its magic that afternoon.

The West Wing

C.J. Craig is my idol.

In my book, this is the best show on tv today. My fingers are crossed that the episodes will be as compelling with the absence of Aaron Sorkin, Tommy Schlamme and Rob Lowe.

The season premier is in two weeks. What will you be doing on the 24th?

The worn leather backpack

I found myself in Washington, DC, during spring break my senior year of college. A friend picked me up at Union Station and took me on a midnight drive of the monuments.

It was love at first sight.

That week, I focused on interviews and getting acquainted with my future home. I also splurged on a brown leather backpack.

It may have been the best purchase I ever made.

I carried my books in in my last few months of school. I lugged it everywhere my first summer in DC.

It has faithfully protected my photography equipment and precious journals. And it’s traveled the bowels of X-ray machines in more than 25 airports and crossed the Atlantic 10 times.

This bag has seen boyfriends my parents never knew of. At one point or another, all of my friends have commented on it. It’s been with me from job to job, apt. to apt.

The bag looks as if it’s seen war. Well, maybe not a war, but it’s witnessed a number of battles.

The leather is splotchy and some of the stitching has begun to unravel. All considering, it’s in pretty good shape.