I love to give blood, it’s good for your body to regenerate blood cells without having to expend the energy to destroy or disposing them. I don’t like the discomfort, but I like to see the clear pouch turn into a warm pillow of blood. I have a perverse attraction to this controlled mess. I have flashbacks to the wall of blood scene in ‘The Shining’ gushing forth and find comfort in that, but strangely enough, I hate the pig blood scene at the prom in ‘Carrie’. I was thrown into my fantasy land of warm blood pools when I the corporate e-mail to donate blood was delivered.

I expected to read ho-hum statistics or a tragic situation that caused some blood shortage. The email listed the quantities of blood but it didn’t list my blood type, which is a very common blood type amongst Asians but only statistically 9.4% of the population. I took this as a slap in the face, but I’ve heard horror stories of the Red Cross contacting people with common blood types, and I thought that it couldn’t be so bad. I realized that by not giving blood, I’m hurting the people that need my blood, but being told that there isn’t a desperate shortage, I don’t feel so bad.

I just finished tidying up and finishing a light breakfast. The is no ambient media playing, no music, TV, radio, or podcast playing. The sounds of birds chirping are blowing in on the waves of fresh air. Mr The Kitty is trotting around from open window to open window. I wonder, how strange it is for a little guy like him to live in this sad and quiet 9 to 5 day. I’m typing because I need some sense of my workday. In a perverse way, I kinda miss the structure of meetings and scheduling.

Last Friday, April 7th, I was in a spinout accident. I started to hydroplane and flipped my way to the shoulder of the highway. I was not injured and the body of my car wasn’t affected. I had to replace my wheels and tires. As it does often in April, it rained this morning. Thinking that i wasn’t going to be affected by this ‘accident’ I’d drive like I normally would. I passed the location on the highway where I spun out with no trouble, but the rest of my commute was driven with care. All the while, driving five miles under the speed limit I felt as if I was having a cartoon moment. The bad-ass devil dressed in a fitted black casual jacket and dark jeans told me “You are such a pussy and you’re letting this spinout get to you”, while the nerdy preppy angel dressed in pastels told me “This is good, you’re learning from this experience. I’m glad you’re taking it slow”

I hate the rain… I hate driving… I hate driving in the rain…