The Return of the Writer's Block

I knew it wouldn't leave me forever. Unfortunately for me, this means I can't think of anything to tell you about (coherently, at least). Unfortunately for you, you have to put up with it. But really, I won't be offended if you choose not to read anymore of this, because it will be rather random.

I went to church today at 9am to help set up for a Confirmation retreat that I would be helping out with until 5. I didn't know what to expect, but lately I have really enjoyed church and decided that volunteering would do me some good. After all of the team leaders met and got a brief rundown of the day, we headed over from the hall we were set up in to the actual church. And oh my God, there were so many people there for Palm Sunday (the week before Easter). I couldn't believe my eyes- there wasn't even enough room for everybody to sit down. Very cool.

The retreat? Well, it was what I expected in that the kids (mostly about freshman age) weren't that enthused. And I have to admit, I was the same way when I was getting confirmed. But sitting there, learning the lessons again, made me appreciate it so much more. I even got to give a brief, random, totally unprepared talk about faith in my life. It was pretty bad, but it was honest- I hope the candidates took at least something positive from it.

Why do some people so readily try to disprove religion? Is it such a horrible thing to believe in something? In someone? Why is it always "there's no proof God exists" and not, "there's no proof God doesn't exist"? I understand that there is the want for things to be 'scientifically proven,' but it must also be understood that for some, such proof is not necessary. And there is nothing wrong with either route of thought. For Pete's sake, yes, challenge each others' ideas; it is a good way to strengthen your own. But at the end of the day, accept that people will think what they want to. And that is okay.

Stick Me!

Yeah, that's right. I saved three lives aka gave blood yesterday.

Was I nervous? That's up for interpretation. I went to the drive at my previously scheduled time at 8:15, filled out the necessary forms (no, I'm not being forced by the mafia to give blood; no, I haven't sold my services for money; no, I didn't travel to Africa and get AIDS), and got in line. I felt fine- perhaps a little anxious. But no hyperventilation, because I had given blood before.

Correction, I have tried. Over the summer my church had a blood drive, and so I went. Long story short, it was not a success. They poked one arm and got some blood, but then the flow stopped. They tried to make it go again by twisting and adjusting the needle in my arm, but no luck; they had to take it out. But I was a trooper! "Do you want us to try the other arm?" they asked. "Sure!" I replied. I had already been stuck once, why not twice? Still, same problem. But I thought they would still tell me my blood type, at least. But no; I left the drive without the warm feelings of giving back and with long bruises up and down my arms. Though I did get some cookies out of the deal.

Yesterday, I vowed for things to be different. I drank an ungodly amount of water the day before to pump up my veins and avoided sick people like they were the plague. But when the woman took my blood pressure, iron levels, and pulse rate, my pulse was too high. "Hmm..your pulse is a little high, so we'll just take it again when you go and sit down in your chair." My thoughts: 'WHAT?! No. My pulse cannot be too high. I HAVE to calm down right now or else I can't give blood. CALM DOWN!' Needless to say, that didn't help. I had to come back later to give it another go.

When I came back and got back in line, March of the Penguins was playing. The blood drive nurses told me that they had had too many high pulses that day. What better way to calm people down than watching waddling penguins with the narration of Morgan Freeman? And it worked- my pulse was under 100 beats per minute!

To finish briefly, they stuck me, said I had weird, squiggly veins, and that my flow was really slow. But it kept flowing! I managed to fill up the whole blood bag without passing out, ate a cookie (despite my Lenten resolution, but I didn't want to die or anything so decided God would understand), and went back to class.

Yay for giving blood! If you haven't YOU should give it a shot. Are you eligible? Check it out.

My Day at the CRPL

Well, it wasn't really at the downtown library, but at the Westdale branch. Because half of the shops in the mall are closed, the library had decided to pick up and move to a more central location not surrounded by darkened and unused space. They needed help, so 'I Pa'ipunaheleHau'oli and I went to see what we could do.

First, we parked on the wrong side of the mall, and when we got there we had to stand in a huge line. Then, the others in line told us we needed a release form, located within the library itself. Hau'oli went to get the forms, and after we filled them out we looked at the bottom: the form required a parent signature for anyone under 18 so that the library wouldn't be responsible for any injury thousands of books could create. We were worried because neither of us had thought to bring our moms and pops along, but the library workers didn't think it was a big deal. So we got to help out.

Our job? Become part of the massive chain of people stretching from one side of the mall to the other, passing carts of books to the new space and empty carts back to be refilled. It was so cool. Why? We got to go behind the scenes of Westdale Mall. I never knew there was so much back there: metal staircases, never-ending hallways, and small offices and rooms. Despite it's drab appearance from a normal mall-shopper's standpoint, the hidden areas were something to look at.

To top the day off, before we left, I saw my seventh grade language arts teacher (she had a quote in the article). To put it simply, she was the best grammar, punctuation, capitalization teacher I have ever had. She knew her stuff (and would get into heated debates with the other teachers, always winning), could sniff out a piece of watermelon gum being chewed in her classroom (and would hunt it out), and could tell the most dramatic stories (of squirrels making a plunge to the earth from a hundred feet from the ground and surving, for example). Seeing her reminded me of how much I had learned and how much I had forgotten from her class (what were those five words that ended in -o that needed an -es as opposed to just an -s at the end when they became plural?). But all in all, it was great to see her again.

When leaving, Hau'oli and I ended up getting lost trying to find our way out of the secret behind-the-scenes Westdale. A few wrong staircases and some wrong turns sent us running through the empty hallways. After we had the common sense to turn around and go where we came, we made it out unscathed and alive.

The volunteering wasn't too hard and I had a good time. I always have more fun when I am helping because I want to, not because I am paid or forced. I suppose that's a good thing; to feel good just for doing good. Still, I wish that I could enjoy my jobs, but that would probably involve me not getting a paycheck. Bummer, I suppose I'll just have to stick to doing a little bit of each.