Please, give us a break! I’m so, so over turning on the Olympics or looking at the covers of newspapers to see this man. He hasn’t even returned from Beijing yet, and he’s already played out most of his popular welcome. Why does the media unfailingly drown us in someone’s newfound popularity? Ten weeks ago I had never heard of Michael Phelps and my life was perfectly fine.

Amazingly, I just read a story in the Times about questions over a Chinese unknown winning a women’s swimming race in record time. There are accusations of doping from the Australians. (To be fair, I never met an Aussie in China who didn’t loathe the Chinese, and the accusation came from the woman’s mother. Um, sour grapes anyone?)

But Phelps wins a zillion of the things and no one says a peep about drugs?

In the accusations flying that China allows doping, people seem to have all-but forgotten that Marion Jones is currently watching the Olympics from JAIL. It’s not like the U.S. doesn’t dope.

I’ve been having conversations with friends and acquaintances all week, ruminating over the same question: “Who doesn’t drug?” It’s like we’ve all tacitly agreed to accept the fact of “extra help” because we know it’s not going anywhere. It’s like the kids who cheat on the SATs or have someone else write their college entrance exams. We all know that people do it, we just hope it’s not anyone we know.

Maybe if we weren’t so obsessed with winning at all costs, as a species, then this wouldn’t be such an issue. I read a great article in Vanity Fair (yes, I read fashion rags), all about doping. What struck me was one woman’s assertion that she didn’t want to drug, but it didn’t take her long to realize that she had to in order to compete with the people who did - and do.

Anyway, if I see one more of these pictures, I’m going to hurl. I thought “nice guys” were supposed to finish last, no?

I must be Chinese at heart, because I’m not that impressed either. It’s only swimming, people. He didn’t cure cancer. Or help children. Thus far, he’s spent most of his life inside a pool. Like a goldfish.

God help me to understand those obsessed by sports. I just don’t get it. But, then again, maybe I’m just bitter because I can’t swim at all (true), and I was always picked last for my 8th grade sports teams (mostly true). Maybe those of us who were never “athletic” can’t ever understand the inner workings of those that are.

The opening ceremony hasn’t even aired here in the U.S. and I am already bored of the Olympics. Isn’t that terrible? I blame all the media hype.

I blame the fact that for months, all I’ve been seeing everywhere is Olympics, China, China, Olympics, human rights, China, Tibet, Olympics, trade, oil, China, environment, China, Tibet, protests, Olympics, China.

In all my time reading and writing about China, this is the first time that I’ve ever been sick of hearing about China.

I wonder how long it will take before the media onslaught peters out?

When will we stop reading about what the Chinese people eat?

Or how their government tortures people? (Let’s not even go to the easy jab about the practice of waterboarding.)

Or freeing Tibet?

Or protecting Taiwan?

Or how - in a million other ways - the Chinese are simply inferior to us?

The U.S. has been reporting on China much like a big brother playing varsity with a serious problem with his kid brother trying out for the team. Maybe we are worried that our freshman kid brother (who is, by the way, much bigger physically than us) will be better than us. Or that we’ll be benched and have to watch our kid brother getting all the praise and venom that we are used to garnering from the international crowd. Or that we can’t handle the competition.

But doesn’t that just make us all look - well, ridiculous?

Maybe the Olympics will be a turning point for our knowledge about China. And I mean real knowledge, not  knee-jerk reactionary jargon that makes them look bad. They have problems, but they have some good points, too. In all seriousness, I think that we need a better understanding of the Chinese, and this might provide us with an opportunity.

But I doubt it.

We are far more interested in thinking we already know everything we need to know. And vice versa. Which, quite frankly, scares the bejesus out of me. Isn’t this how bad things always start? By a misunderstanding that engenders harsh feelings, which leads to more trouble? (That’s pretty much the way I remember being thrown off the merry-go-round in 3rd grade.)

I don’t think that China is our “enemy”. Nor do I think that they are our “friend”. They are our global cousins, and we don’t seem to like them very much.

They also aren’t the scapegoat that we make them out to be. Or the bogeyman. Or the devil.

Once upon a time, we were the “new money” and Europe hated us. Now Asia is the “new money” and the U.S. hates them. South America and India are just waiting their turn, so that East Asia can hate them. Europe is waiting for it to all revolve again. And Africa, Central Asia, and the Middle East remain, to put it politely, screwed.

Hi, all.

What have I been doing with my summer, you ask?

Well, it hasn’t been boring.

For those of you who are just visiting this site, you might not know that I am in a PhD program, becoming an ‘expert’ on disease, public health, and China. My topic is avian influenza, focusing in on Southeast Asia and on Guangdong Province in China in particular.

In June, I was in Hong Kong during the latest H5N1 outbreak there. The live chicken stalls were closed, though you could walk through them and buy your pork in adjacent stalls. And no one on the street seemed particularly worried or upset. If you don’t count the authorities and the chicken sellers, no one was that fussed. By the third day of the outbreak, the news was relegated to the 7th page.

So, this past week - and for 8 days - I was in San Diego at the IGCC training program for Public Policy and Biological Threats. It was wonderful and terrifying. Wonderful because so many up-and-coming scientists, policy and politics people, and other social scientists (including myself) are passionate about this topic. Terrifying because we have a long, long way to go before we can call ourselves ‘prepared’ for something to happen.

In other words, there is such a thing as “too much information”. I now know more than does me any good. Except that it has made me more aware and determined to do something with my degree.

When I came home, the first thing I did was to make us purchase a disaster kit from the Red Cross. If you don’t have one - and you live in California - you need to wake up, smell the coffee, and go get yourself one. Or build it yourself.

At the very LEAST, here is what you will need:

1. Food and water for at least 3 days for all members of the household. About 3 gallons per person, per day is recommended, but have at least a gallon jug for each person at the minimum. Food ideally should require no preparation - like ready-to-eat soup or power bars. Don’t forget your pets, if you have any. Have enough food and water for them as well.

2. First-aid kit. Self explanatory. If something goes down, you might have a scrape or two. Ideally, sign up for a first-aid course at the Red Cross, so that you can help your family and others in an emergency. It’s cheap, your work would probably cover it, and it’s a good idea.

3. Flashlight (with extra batteries) and solar-powered radio. You’ll need to see in the dark and hear what’s happening, along with instructions from authorities.

4. A wrench and a screwdriver and a pair of heavy-duty work gloves. For turning off the water, gas and whatever else needs done to secure your house (or what is left of it - sorry, folks). The gloves are important, as most people forget them and in an earthquake there will be a lot of rubble and broken glass.

5. A tent would be great. Just in case you need to shelter in place until help comes.

6. About $300 in cash, plus photocopies of all your IDs. In a disaster, the ATMs won’t be working. And you might not be able to get to your wallet.

This is the bare minimum for a kit. Have it in a seal-able plastic tub, and keep it within easy reach. Like in a hall closet on an exit route.

As for me, I’m also taking the disaster preparedness course at the Red Cross, so that I can volunteer in the next disaster. This course helped me to face my fears of something bad happening. What I have personally learned is that being prepared makes me less nervous and anxious.

Also, I’m giving blood next Monday before the rush on supplies on Veteran’s Day (more accidents happen on holidays). But, then, I’m a saint of perfection, so don’t try to keep up with me.

Ok, so as a medical anthropologist, I read just enough science to make me nervous, but not enough to make me qualified to say anything meaningful about the results of tests and/or experiments.

But, when I read that an expert is nervous, it makes me even more nervous.

Here is a story from the BBC - quoted in full - about not waiting for the final judgment, so to speak (I’m fond of gallows humor). I’ve always used a headset with my mobile phone - and not a bluetooth which might only exacerbate the problem - so I’m not exactly running to make my early funeral arrangements, but . . .

Truth be told, I take these things with a grain of salt. We are all - eventually - bound for the grave. The top leading causes of death might change, but there will always be top leading causes of death. Because, umm, we have to die (a shock for some scientists and pretty much everyone under the age of 30, I know).

And, to put it back into perspective, only 100 years ago people didn’t live long enough to get cancer. They died of things like scarlett fever, typhus and diptheria instead. By 40.

Anyway, I thought that this was an interesting story, and highlights how much we do and do not know about the science of medicine. Which is, now that I think about it, part of the point of my own work on epidemics. And a fitting send-off to the biological threats conference/boot camp I’m attending next week. . . .

US cancer boss in mobiles warning

But a study of 500 Israelis found this year that heavy mobile phone use might be linked to an increased risk of cancer of the salivary gland.

Further studies are looking into possible long-term effects

The director of a leading US cancer research institute has sent a memo to thousands of staff warning of possible higher risks from mobile phone use.

Ronald Herberman, of the University of Pittsburgh Cancer Institute, said users should not wait for definitive studies on the risk and should take action now.

He said children should use mobiles in emergencies only and adults should try to keep the phone away from the head.

No major academic study has confirmed a link to higher brain-tumour risks.

Electromagnetic fields

Dr Herberman said his warning was based on early findings from unpublished data.

“We shouldn’t wait for a definitive study to come out, but err on the side of being safe rather than sorry later,” he says.

[There is a] growing body of literature linking long-term cell phone use to possible adverse health effects including cancer Ronald Herberman Q&A: Mobile phone safety

“I am convinced that there are sufficient data to warrant issuing an advisory to share some precautionary advice on cell phone use,” the memo says.

Dr Herberman’s warning to 3,000 staff says children should be protected as their brains are still developing.

He lists tips including switching sides regularly while talking on mobiles.

A major six-year research study in the UK said last year that there were no short-term adverse effects to brain and cell function from mobile phone use.

However, the UK Mobile Telecommunications and Health Research Programme (MTHR) said there was a “hint” of a higher cancer risk in the long term and that its research would look into the effects over a 10-year period.

Programme chairman Professor Lawrie Challis said: “We can’t rule out the possibility at this stage that cancer could appear in a few years’ time.”

Evidence ’still confused’

Prof Alan Preece, Emeritus Professor of Medical Physics at the University of Bristol, said the evidence for harmful effects was “still confused and inconclusive”.

He added: “Whilst I would agree that precaution for children is an excellent idea… it is only very long term heavy use that would seem to be sensible to avoid until there is positive evidence of harm.

“In any case, modern phones cause far less exposure than their counterparts 10 or 20 years ago, and hands-free devices effectively solve the problem by removing heavy exposure to the head.”

Prof Will Stewart of the University of Southampton, who is a Fellow of The Royal Academy of Engineering, said he would be intrigued to see the early research.

“One cannot refute the ‘early findings from unpublished data’ since we have not seen them - but there is enough published data, including the MTHR review, to make the advice sound alarmist.”

Long-term effects

An earlier UK report said in 2005 that mobile phone use by children should be limited as a precaution - and that under-eights should not use them at all.

Mobile phones emit radio signals and electromagnetic fields that can penetrate the human brain, and some campaigners fear that this could seriously damage human health.

A US analysis by the University of Utah this year of thousands of brain tumour patients found no increased risk as a result of mobile use, but added that the effects from long-term use “awaits confirmation by future studies”.

Research reported in 2006 by the British arm of an international project called Interphone concluded that mobile phone use did not lead to a greater risk of brain tumour.

Recent Danish and French studies also found no increased risk of cancer.

After seeing this:

Dr. Horrible’s Sing-a-Long Blog

I am a horrible Buffy the Vampire Slayer dorkette. Not only did I watch every single episode religiously, but I bought the entire series. When I saw that Joss Wheedon was doing this, I had to check it out. The first episode is kind of slow, but if you stick with it you will hear lines like, “The hammer is my penis.” Good stuff.

I promise, I’ll get back to more serious topics and commentary at some point, but it’s the summer for crying out loud.

I hate advertising. I hate that hot women that don’t even get most of the jokes from “That 70s Show”are supposed to sell me clothing. I hate the pervy men (and women) that make these marketing/PR decisions.

This is a new ad for American Apparel:

Um, OK.

This is about cotton underwear, right?

Then why does this look like porn?

She’s licking his dick?! Seriously?!

Maybe this is just a more honest version of the advertising we are already used to seeing, making a girl literally looking like a porn star, instead of just simulating it. Rumor has it that the guy in the photo is the owner of the company. Gross. Double gross.

I hope that if I ever have children I have boys, so that I don’t have to explain to young girls that this is ridiculous nonsense. Or dissuade them from trying to emulate what they see in advertising, like God knows I did at a young age. (It was easier when the role models were just wearing blue mascara, neon, and shoulder pads.)

I hate being a woman sometimes.

Except when I look at this:

If we’re going to have sexist advertising, for Christ’s sake, at least make it involve equal opportunity ogling. And ditto for the attendant body image problems.

Usually, it’s just “Whoops!”, and two weeks have gone by. This time, I have an official hall pass from blog updating and it’s called “Getting on the Radio”.

For the past two weeks, I’ve been in the process of rewriting and approving edits to a short essay I wrote for the “This I Believe” essay project. I heard one of the essays on NPR and thought to myself, “What do I believe in - for real?” Not as a corny project, or a way to get on NPR, but in actuality. What is the core belief of my life, thus far?

To my shock, the editors picked my essay out of the submissions pile and eventually submitted it to the editors of All Things Considered.

On July 28, my essay will be broadcast on All Things Considered.

I couldn’t be happier, or more honored to share a part of my story. My hope is that it will inspire some people to live a bolder life. Even if ‘bolder’ for them means simply doing something in their everyday lives that they are usually afraid of - like talking to the boss about their idea, asking out the cute person who is always in line at Starbucks at lunch, or riding on the really big roller coasters.

Anyway, now that the essay is recorded, I have no more excuses about writing here more regularly. Unless I submit to the New York Times Magazine. . . . Hmm.

No one ever told me that procrastination of other writing projects is the path to random literary success.

That makes sense.

Yesterday, I was supposed to go to 6 Flags Discovery Kingdom in Vallejo, CA, for the 4th of July celebrations. We had purchased our tickets a week ago, and were both looking forward to it. What’s not to love? Greasy, yummy food, scary rides, fun games, entertainment packed in. . . .

We got on the road at 3pm - because who wants to be at an amusement park all day when you don’t have kids? The fireworks were scheduled for after 9pm and the park closed at 10. Perfection. On the highway, there was no traffic and we were in heaven.

Until we got to the turnoff for the park, where it was a bumper-to-bumper parking lot.

There were SUVs packed with children all seemingly under the age of 10 (my least favorite, truth be told - I’m in that rarer category as a fan of young teenagers); there were sport cars with the two seats filled with hip couples slathered in sunscreen and wearing stylish straw hats; there were shiny cars with the stereos blasting hip hop so loud that it rattled the car next to them in every direction; there were old beat-ups packed with families. We all snaked our way into the overfilled parking lot, moving at about the same pace as an old lady with a walker crossing the street at a light.

Are you getting the picture? Packed. It was literally packed.

There were people walking who were lapping us as we sat in our car.

We started to get cranky.

“What about those people sneaking off to the right?” Ryan mutters. “Where do you think that goes?”

“How do I know?” I snap back at him. “It’s not like I come here every week.”

A minute later.

“What’s going on over there? This is bullshit!”

Silence. We are three car-lengths from where we started and about a 1000 miles from the good mood we both began our adventure in an hour before.

I stare out the window and at our printed ticket.

“Hey,” I say.

“Yeah?”

“These tickets are good until December 31, 2008.”

We look at each other and our smiles return. Seconds later, we are backing out of the parking lanes and zooming back the way we had come - windows down, hair blowing in the wind, and a newfound feeling of freedom on our side.

“We can go anywhere we want!” Ryan yells.

“I know!” I say and giggle. Then, we decide to go to Napa to have dinner. Why? Because we can.

The moral of this ridiculous story?

The trouble in life, it seems to me, are the expectations we have about the plans that we make. As human beings, we always seem to be planning, dreaming, imagining how great life is going to be once we get there. Then, the real disaster starts when we are so focused on the “getting there” that we don’t even stop to realize that the journey has become utterly MISERABLE. So many people would have stayed (and did) in that parking lot, dooming themselves to bitching about the heat, the crowds, and the lines for all the rides and food. They were so fixated on carrying out “the plan” that they couldn’t see the signs for Napa Valley and the clear highways to get there.

I realized, in the moment that it took us to decide to bail on our plan, that flexibility is the real key to any lasting happiness.

There is a Turkish proverb that I’ve always loved, but never followed (until now):

No matter how far down the wrong path you find yourself, turn around.

This goes for poorly planned trips to 6 flags (we’re going on a weekday soon), as well as the bigger decisions in life. If you are a banker and you realize that you hate your job - find a way to turn around. Trust me. We don’t get any martyr-ships or medals or awards from “staying the course”.

So go ahead. Live a little. Change direction. Don’t do what you said you were going to do. Cancel that dinner with the “friends” you barely like, but feel indebted to, and go to the beach. Write that novel in your spare hour between work, kids and bedtime.

Veer insanely down the paths of life.

How much is your entire life worth? Your home, your car, your job, your friends, your lifestyle. Just as a guess, what price would you put on it? Priceless? Maybe not.

A man in Australia recently sold his for approximately $400K.

Seriously.

The person who purchased it has his three-bedroom house, his 19-year-old Mazda, a motorbike, a boat, his job as a rug salesman, and an introduction to his friends. Apparently, the man realized that after a divorce, his entire life reminded him of his ex-wife. His solution? Start a new life from scratch and sell his old one on E-Bay.

Apparently, this is legal.

Which has got me to thinking. . . .

How much is my life worth on the open market?

Let’s see. . . .

I’m a graduate student - so the buyer would have the opportunity to try out the academic life and relive his/her time as a student. Limitless lattes and reading of highly intellectual books. Good conversations about “things that really matter” throw in for good measure. Heated debates over whether or not Foucault is still pertinent.

I’m getting married - but I’m not sure how my future husband would feel about a stand-in bride. Especially if a male won the bid.

I’m a writer - and the person could take credit for my novel and my articles. That’s something. I could change the author’s name on the book. That’s neat.

I have a ton of clothes, shoes and jewelry.

And two adorable cats. I can’t forget them.

And my friends - scattered all over the world. Perhaps they could host the new me in cities like New York and Hong Kong and Dublin.

What’s all that worth? $400K? Or less?

What a crisis it would put someone in to know that their entire life was only worth $12,650, more or less. Wouldn’t that suck? To know that other people thought your life was too boring to buy? Or too sad? Or too weird?

The man - who lives near Perth, I think - told the BBC that he “has no regrets”. The money will allow him to travel for awhile, and to fulfill his list of things to do. Then, I suppose, he will settle down again and build up another marketable life somewhere. If it’s on an island and he sells 10 years from now, I’m maxing out my credit card. You can bet on it.

Full story at: Man sells entire life

My dad and I didn’t agree on much when I was growing up. He liked things like the Patriots, the Sox, the Bs and the Cs. He liked skiing and smoking and going to Hampton Beach. He liked going to the track and racing horses. Most of these things I did not like - even the beach part of the deal (my dad smoked so much that he managed to make even sea air smoky).

But, the one thing I did share with my father was a dark sense of humor. He had been in Vietnam; in fact, he did two tours as an infantryman in the army. He was Scottish and Catholic and grew up in a questionable Boston neighborhood with people who probably eventually did time for participating in a variety of illegal activities. In other words, for my dad, life was not a joy ride. In this, we agreed wholeheartedly.

I remember hearing George Carlin’s “7 words you can’t say on television” routine, and his take on driving, with my dad. My dad didn’t bother about swearing in front of me, which is probably why I still swear like a sailor on shore leave. Happily.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about my dad and what I’ve inherited from both of my parents. From my father, it was definitely his cynicism and his sense of humor. When I read that George Carlin had died, it brought back a lot of memories of my own father. I miss them both.

George Carlin on death:

The famous driving routine - in 2 parts: