...when I gave blood.

Yes, it has been only one week and two days since my last post.  I told you I meant business.

Also, I should stop telling you what I'm going to blog about next, because I always end up changing my mind.

Last week, I got an email from Lifeshare.  "Your blood type is in short supply!" it said.  "No one is taking the time to come in and give blood during the summer!  Please come and give us your blood.  You could save someone's life.  Or be incredibly selfish.  It's totally up to you, though, but people are dying.  No pressure.  Hurry up, though, please."  Roughly paraphrased.

It immediately threw me into a tailspin of indecision.  Consider the following:


1) People need blood.

2) I have blood.

3) Like many, I tend to vomit and/or pass out when I give blood.

4) If I deny people my blood simply because I don't want to experience five or so minutes of intense discomfort (and public regurgitation), then I must be horrendously selfish.

5) If I go to give blood even though I know ahead of time that I will probably vomit on someone, then I must be horrendously selfish.  Or a drama queen.

6) If I avoid giving blood because I don't want to look like a drama queen, then not only am I horrendously selfish, I am also way too concerned about what a handful of strangers think about me.

7) There is no way to win this situation.


I hope you enjoyed considering those conclusions.  I didn't.  And I certainly wasn't any closer to making a decision.  I had no choice but to visualize the situation.

That was more helpful.  I made my date with destiny (i.e. an appointment at the donation center).

Previously I had only ever given blood at mobile stations set up for blood drives.  It had never gone well.

Clearly not a positive experience.  Neither was the next one.

History repeated itself until I was convinced.  Giving blood=trauma and/or death.

So it was with trepidation that I approached the donation center last Saturday.

(That sign says "Welcome Donor Heroes!")

My terror changed everything.  The sunshine was cruel, the exclamation points on all the signage mocking.  I was walking into a death trap.

My donation experience began pretty typically.

To Paul the Phlebotomist's credit, he was laughing by that point.  Maybe it was my charming inability to make a routine, insignificant decision that won him over.  Maybe it was the fact that I knew what color the biohazard bag was.  Or maybe it was that my skin is so absurdly pale that my veins glow through it like it's midnight on the Vegas Strip.  Whatever it was, Paul the Phlebotomist and I seemed to be friends.

That turned out to be an awesome thing.  He had me basking in the refreshing current generated by a giant fan, chilling on ice, and cuddling beneath the biggest biohazard bag I had ever seen before he'd even come near me with a syringe.  As I bled out, we discussed my flute playing and his sleep study.  I'd never met an insomniac before.  I almost forgot that blood was gushing from my body.

Seriously.  I wouldn't have been surprised if they'd started dropping grapes into my open mouth.  The set-up made all the difference.  It was the first time I gave blood without once fearing that my life was rapidly drawing to a close.

In conclusion, I would encourage all of you to make an appointment at your nearest blood donation center.  They will treat you like a bleeding princess, and you probably won't die or vomit or anything.  You will leave feeling like a champion, and it's a great excuse to eat packaged sugary things with an alarmingly high calorie count.  In fact, you could probably go ahead and eat sugary things all day long.  You know, for your health.

Note:  Lifeshare did not pay me to write this blog post.  Do you think they would, though?

Note the Second: In the public vomiting scenario, please forgive the abrupt disappearance of my arms and the chair.

Note the Third: I'm pretty sure Paul the Phlebotomist had glasses, but in case you have somehow stumbled upon this blog, Paul, I'm really sorry if you don't have glasses.  I'm pretty sure you do, though.

Final Note: I am having an affair with adverbs.  Please don't tell any writing teacher I've ever had.

Post Final Note: Also please forgive the number of times I wrote "and/or."  I'm feeling oddly specific lately.  Yes, not just specific.  ODDLY specific.  So there.

...when I finally got it together and came back to my blog.

I've been hiding from y'all again.


"Why?" you're asking.  "Why are you hiding from us?  We have only given you unconditional love and support, even though most of us leave our comments on facebook where the blogging world cannot see them, so even though nobody actually knows you have friends who read your blog, we always read it!  We are the best blog readers ever!"


I know, guys.  I know.  And I'm sorry.  It's just that sometimes, nothing funny happens to me.  Or sometimes, I get on this life high where I really just don't worry about much, and instead I enjoy the heck out of life pretty much every day.  I don't obsess nearly as much.  And so nothing ridiculous enough happens in my head that I have to draw a comic about it to show myself just how ridiculous it is.  And I'm afraid you won't love me anymore.


Just kidding, I know you guys love me.  Feel free to leave a comment about how much you love me.  Seriously, no one's stopping you.  I wouldn't think you were stupid.  I wouldn't laugh.  Go ahead, I'll give you a second. I mean it, I'll wait till you come back to keep going.


All kidding aside, I really haven't known what to blog about.  Life's been good, but let's face it.  Good is boring.  But after a while of praying desperately that some misfortune will befall you so that you can construe it in a comedic fashion after the fact, it just becomes easier to avoid the issue.


"You're not nearly as funny as you think you are," your inner voice whispers in its best Wormtongue impression.  "You only have 14 followers.  And you can't draw."


So you get really busy with other things, and life continues to be good and boring, and you're thankful for it, even though you know you have a blog and that it's really rude to start a blog and not keep up with it.  It's kind of like asking somebody out on a date and then saying you don't want to date anybody.  I mean, really.  Rude.


But then, some of your friends start reminding you to blog.  And then more of your friends start reminding you to blog.  And then some more.  And some more.  And pretty soon, you feel like you have to go back to your blog, because if you didn't, then what kind of friend would you be?


And no, I don't know when you started being the blogger and I stopped.


Ok, so you've decided "I'm going to do this, for all fourteen of them."  But what do you blog about?  Actually, I don't know what you would blog about.  I'll just tell you what I'm going to blog about.  Lists seems to be a good way for me to ease back into the blogosphere after wantonly ignoring it for weeks on end.  So I'm going to tell you about all of the things that have been keeping me so busy and happy that I couldn't blog for you.


Without further ado, I bring you...


...A Study In Excuses or: I'm Really Sorry, Please Still Love Me


1. I've been writing a book.  Sort of.

2. I can't stop playing Minesweeper when I should be doing things like blogging and writing a book.

I'm not kidding.  It's taking over my life.  I see it in my dreams.

3. I've gotten really into art.

And my ideas only get bigger and bigger.  And messier.  And less probable.  But no less awesome.  I haven't even told my roommates about the latest ones.  I'm saving that for a night when there's wine.  (Hear that, guys?)

4. I've been enjoying Super Social Time.

Most of the time, I have considerable time to brood.  Which is great for a writer/aspiring artist/creative type/emotional basket case.  But lately, it's like all my friends, new and old, have been coming out of the woodwork.  As my grandmother says, it never rains but it pours.

5. My penchant for exploring (sometimes spontaneously) has resurfaced.

That last picture was intended to show that I don't typically go REAL exploring (i.e. not far from my car or an established parking venue), but it feels pretty adventurous to me.

And to show my goodwill, I'm going to leave the list off right there, as a teaser.  It will all make sense in my next entry, which you won't have to wait a month or more for.  Promise.

Thanks, everybody, for bringing me back.

Note: If you haven't picked up on it before now, or if you've simply forgotten in my excessive hiatus, I will do anything to avoid re-scanning, as I don't have a scanner at home.  That's why sometimes in my pictures, it looks like a four-year-old wrote the captions.  That writing-with-a-mouse trick is tricky.

Note About The Note: Yes, I did kind of try to think of something to add in that note up there just because it feels weird not to write notes after my entries.  See?  I'm still neurotic.  Nothing to worry about.

An Unrelated Note: I couldn't get the spacing right at the beginning of this entry, and it frustrated me so much I gave up.  If you know how to help, please do!