Giving blood, 2.0

With my own blood-donation song annoyingly looped in my brain chamber, I was steeled for my belated second round on Saturday (although I tried to appear nonchalant, I'm not sure I pulled it off). This time I went to the main donor centre at Town Hall - what a massive difference to the mobile unit! They had those dentist-style chairs that go up and down. I'm easily impressed by such things. The whole facility was decked out clean and white, and I even had the pleasure of being able to watch Ben 10 on the telly while they hooked me up. And as much as I'd joked about it, I was actually totally unaware that the previous hideous bruise I had nursed was not the norm. This time around I've got barely a puncture mark. Smooth.

Needle insertion point carefully obscured for queasier readers

They made such a lovely big deal about it being my 'first time' before, I was expecting it to be very ho-hum this time. But they gave me a keyring with my blood type on it to say thanks for not being a total wussbag and coming back a second time! (see, told you I was easily impressed).

No Mars Bar this time. In response to donor surveying there are now 'healthier options' for your post-donation snack, and it being 11am I was fine with that. The nice lady made me a caramel milkshake and I had a gigantic piece of raisin toast. It was all very civilised and made me forget that I was about to go into a 10-hour merch shift.

Toast and milkshake noms

Trublood (You Need It More Than I Do)

I have just done a chart of my songwriting progress, and it's a bit sketchy. I've managed to write eight songs in the past six months (well, calling "Sausages" a song is a bit rich) but as impressive as that may sound, I am still four songs short. I will catch up, eventually. There are many factors and I am slowly trying to address them.

Here is song Number 8, or rather, song Number 4 in the "Songs About Challenges" category: Trublood (You Need It More Than I Do). Can you guess which challenge it is about? Because I'm all about subtley, you know. I hope HBO don't sue my ass for pulling these dodgy samples off youtube.

Trublood (You Need It More Than I Do) by duskerdee

[I know y'all are vampires and all, but you don't have to be such bitches about it]

I've got 8 litres of the good stuff
And you can share it 'coz I've got enough
How 'bout I fill a coupla bags for you?
We're hoping it'll make you feel brand new

You need it more than I do
You need it more than I do
You need it more than I do
You need it more than I do

I got a bad ass bruise from when I gave
My arm was black and blue for several days
But that won't stop me doing it again
Because I got a Mars Bar at the end

You need it more than I do
You need it more than I do
You need it more than I do
You need it more than I do

[One caveat, gentlemen. If you drain her completely, that's the last faerie blood you'll ever drink.
Mmm, good point.]

There must be opportunity for a vampire joke in here somewhere.

#27: Give blood. Tick!

So, I survived my first foray into blood-giving. Yay me!

The kindly folks at Leichhardt mobile blood bank went out of their way to make me feel special as a new donor. I couldn’t bring myself to actually look at any of the process taking place, but I lay there for just under 10 minutes or so, squeezing the little squeezy toy, staring at the ceiling and trying to concentrate on ‘Breaking The Girl’ which was being piped into the building from somewhere. The anticipation of it was the worst thing. Then the jab. Then it just kind of aches a little, but it isn’t so bad. It was only around halfway through that I started to feel a slight pulse of the blood flowing out. They filled 4 bags (it’s around 470mls, which is less than 10% of the total body’s volume of blood) and I can tell you, it was top grade stuff. It was red and everything.

They let me lie on the table for a while longer since it was my first donation, and then they gave me some Anzac cookies, a Mars Bar and a mini packet of Doritos. Best justification of treats ever! I could get used to this.

I'm sorry, you're going to do WHAT now?

Realisation just hit: they are going to stick a needle in my arm and take out half a litre of blood. Panic stations, troops! PANIC STATIONS!

Musicophilia

The Briscoe bandwagon is rolling with gusto, although it is less of a wagon and more like Bart’s lounge room, and less like rolling and more like rocking. Bam! I didn’t even plan that sentence. I just come up with this stuff. Did some awesomely fun gang vocals on Sunday, and whoever wasn’t at the mic was engaged in a game of tag team scrabble. Playing “pixies” over a triple word score for 54 points still wasn’t enough to win it for me, but something about board games makes me gleefully happy. I think it is to do with my sibling-less childhood and the fact I never had anyone to play them with. Insert pity. Yes, I am that pathetic.

Anyway, it is great being in someone else’s band and not having any pressure to really do anything but turn up and play your bit.

I’m reading Musicophilia by Oliver Sacks just now, and it is fascinating. The kind of fascination I experience when I’m trying to eat dinner and watch a David Attenborough documentary at the same time – it just ends up being a fork hovering in the air with my mouth partially opened, eyes glued to the mating dance of the Birds of Paradise. That’s what this book is like. Thinking about the weirdness of the brain makes my brain fry. I mentioned earlier my intrigue at the juxtaposition of a perfect melodic singer having seemingly little sense of natural rhythm. Apparently it is not so uncommon. Another thing that tickled my fancy was the creation of music from silence – to write, I often have to spend a long period of time untouched by sound. It’s as if it gives the music a chance to crawl in. I thought that was pretty weird, since surely sitting at an actual instrument or at least humming a tune would be the most sensible way to birth a song, but it turns out I’m not too much of a freak after all. Which is not to say that I don’t occasionally pick up a guitar and noodle out the start of something. Because I did yesterday. It was very exciting.

There’s a free seminar on climate change supposed to be happening on campus here at lunch time, so I’m going to go sit in on it and take some notes. Of course, that’s providing that any of our students show up to it. Which they probably won’t.

Tomorrow is Blood Bank day. It’s a bit annoying actually because we’re going out to see The Fall tonight and it means I won’t be able to drink anything. All for the greater good. If you’re a B+ in need, then boy do I have a Christmas gift for you.

Perspective

I am getting better at meditating without distraction in loud or busy spaces, although I am also finding my tea is usually cold by the time I’m back in the land of the conscious. Mindful meditation is what I’m mainly focussing on now. I have been too lazy to charge my iPod shuffle for, oh, over a month now, so I’ve not been listening to my audio in that time.

The weekend had a lot of unpleasantness in it so I will focus on the blessings instead: the coming together of friends, the rare spotting of a giant wombat foraging for food, and the serenity of quiet contemplation at the platypus pools (albeit without seeing any actual platypuses, but a relaxing endeavour nonetheless).

I’ve decided to focus on the challenges that don’t involve any costs until my karma balances out and I can justify paying for silliness again. This firstly means recharging the iPod so I can upload some Learn-Japanese CDs onto it. I figure if the weather is bad and I can’t cycle to work, I can at least spend 40 minutes each day listening to a recording of someone speaking gibberish and then asking me to repeat them until something sticks. If nothing else it might get someone to finally laugh at me on the train.

Music has also become a core default setting in my brain, which is a surprising return after many years of my songwriting habits de-evolving. In anguished moments I find myself thinking it would be nice to just have a few hours with a guitar, or space to sing. Maybe that’s just a reaction to not having had a band rehearsal or gig for a couple of weeks, but this in itself is noteworthy as usually having so much band stuff on can be quite draining. Maybe it’s the subconscious urgency of having to write 19 more songs before next July. Maybe it’s the realisation that singing other people’s songs is rather enjoyable. Let’s also not forget that half-decent busking might actually make me money, a very rousing prospect.

I also just made an appointment to give blood for the first time, so that puts some things in perspective and makes me feel a little better about things in general.

The spaces in between

So, the 22nd came and went, and 6 postcards failed to materialise. There was only one that I wasn’t really expecting to get back, and they’re ok. I didn’t want to learn how to surf anyway (water is cold, and also wet! Two things I don’t like very much). Another is excused due to the lateness of her inclusion and the fact she had a baby almost immediately. But still.

The whole experiment inadvertently took on an emotional life of its own as I took the rollercoaster ride of checking what the postman had brought each day. For the first few days, nothing. Then one. Then a dribble. Then a swarm. First the postcards from those I knew I could rely on, and the wide-eyed wonder of the challenges they proposed. The warmth in realising how well they knew me. Then those on the outer, who I thought might palm the entire thing off as some outlandish flight of fancy, but humoured me anyway. Delight in their deliberate thoughtfulness. Then the surprises, the people to whom I’d cast a wide net but wasn’t sure they would rise to the occasion; the recognition of handwriting from people long lost and a subsequent stirring of affection.

I guess I’d sort of expected not to get all 29 postcards back, but what surprised me in the end is which ones didn’t come home. Every flourish of childish excitement at the unexpected ones, I now realise is countered with a short sharp pang at those who didn’t deem the project important enough. Who didn’t deem me important enough.

Now the deadline has passed, I will admit that I secretly hoped somebody would ask me to get a tattoo, but oh well. I also hoped I would be given the justification to learn how to drive and learn some skills in the kitchen, so it evens out. Perhaps fortunately, the ever-prepared Jacob Sewell considerately provided me with four challenges instead of one. I’ve really only taken up 3 of them, but that at least takes my tally to 26 challenges.

That leaves me three challenges. For bonus points, I am filling the gaps.
1. Give blood.
2. Learn conversational Japanese.
3. Find out more about my parents.

Giving blood is something I’ve always thought I should do, since high school, but never got up the gall to go through with it. The Japanese sounds like a big one, but I really just want to learn enough to help me figure out where the train station is and how to order some sake when we visit there next July. It’s a flying visit, 4 nights in Tokyo, but I dare say that’s plenty of time to get tremendously lost on the way to the train station and accidentally order octopus brains. Hence, a basic understanding of Japanese would be nice. The parental thing is something I literally just came up with. My Mum and Dad got married late in proceedings and are quite inhibited about their lives before me and before each other. It’s intriguing. I have hints about who they were, but often I feel like I don’t really know them. They’re not big talkers.

I’ve also realised there are other goals I have quietly set for myself – the vegetarian Thursday thing; trying to read all of the books on our bookshelf before going to the store and drooling over more of them; drinking more water instead of soft drinks or cordial; the “no non-essential spending” weeks. I’d be doing these things anyway, so don’t worry, I’m not trying to cheat, but it is just curious the way we make these shifts without giving them too much thought.

Be positive

I have a new boss, and she has moved into what used to be my ‘meditation room’ and now I’m feeling a little bit lost. More lost than I should rightly feel. Maybe this meditation malarkey has been having more effect than I give it credit for. I meditated at home yesterday instead, but the juju was all wrong. I could use the first aid room but you never know when somebody might come bursting in with a violent head wound and need the space to bleed everywhere, so I’m reluctant to take up that option.

Feeling defeated about the fundraising ball again. What else is new.

I am still sans 7 challenges and I am wondering what to do about this. I have faith that I may still receive a couple more but others I am not so sure about. And some people I wonder why I continue putting energy into them. I actually changed my mind at the last minute about one of the recipients, adding somebody who should have been on the list from the beginning and for some stupid reason wasn’t there, and taking off somebody who I realised was a complete waste of my time, as usual. I get tired thinking about such things very quickly. To be very curt about it, I did a ‘cull’ of such people in my life a few years ago, and I haven’t regretted it. Sometimes you’ve got to know when to let go, you know? But then I think: there is reward in savouring friendships. Most people mean well. It’s about finding a balance.

Originally when people asked what would happen if I found myself in this situation (not having all challenges returned), I was steadfast: their loss, and more time for me to concentrate on the ones that did arrive. I’m wondering now if there is room for 7 more of them, and there probably isn’t. But that in itself was part of the challenge, right?

Here’s what I’m going to do. Any outstanding postcards on 22nd October 2010 – that’s 3 months after the project started – will have their Challenger Rights forfeited. Maybe I’ll then choose to challenge myself in place of the missing ones. I already have some ideas. They won’t be too difficult or time consuming, more like new year’s resolutions (and probably taken with as much salt, so there is also no pressure to finish them in the same way as the others). Like, I’ve been thinking for a long time, I should really give blood. My blood type is B+. Be positive! How can I not share blood that life affirming!

Anyway, I’ll deal with that in November. I have a lot to do before then.

PS. We finally have a government again! About fricking time! Lead well, Julia... lead well.