Hurricane Matthew

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One of the worst storms in recent history is tearing up the east coast of Georgia, Florida, North Carolina, and South Carolina. Getting up to Category 4 status, Hurricane Matthew has caused major headlines. Over 500 people have been killed in Haiti so far. I don’t think there has been a hurricane that has caused this much damage since Sandy in 2012. It is the first hurricane I have witnessed bearing my name. Talk about giving myself a bad name for future generations. With the hurricane as deadly as it is, though not as bad as Katrina, the name will be retired to the list of legendary storms of past, never to be used again. Talk about legacy.

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The hurricane happened to gain widespread coverage just as I was finishing up my plasma donation routine as I do every week. Before I started donating, I accidentally ticked someone off in line, not that I knew I did. The person ahead of me was called to a section; I happened to accidentally start following him to the bed. He suddenly got angry and quote on quote said “I’m telling you, my hand is sweating, I’m going to punch him in the face.” Well, that was shocking. I didn’t do anything wrong and was just minding my own business to say. I told the person that does my needle sticking that he said that, right after she immediately noticed something seemed to be bothering me. The guy was called out and obviously told to leave the center before his bottle got filled. I never saw him again.

Realize

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Monotony

My day has been the same
For the last two years
The same house, the same cats
Not much to my fears

Who would have thought
That after graduation would suck
With the over looming debt
That I have yet to unstuck

Get up, get up,
The same routine
Go off to the plasma
Just replay the last scene

Get him five dollars
He’s such a Scrooge McDuck
Pump the gas, how long will it last
And make the long ride home
Will I win the lottery, with some luck

A computer runs my days
Writing and the random games
Blogging late at night
I really should be earlier,
My preoccupied brain

Even if the world fell apart
I would’t trade this quiet, unassuming life
Not even for my own private plane
Not even for a wife

Above all important matters
My favorite to do
Is probably waiting things out
The procrastination, time wasting
Searching on Google, always fun without a doubt


Our days are organized around numerous small actions we repeat over and over. What’s your favorite daily ritual?

Leaving You My Legacy…Use it Wisely

I’m trying to imagine myself at the end of my life, which is hard because I like to think about the present and because I’m still so young. What’s my legacy? Will I leave behind a chest of riches in my will? I can’t say for certain, and its a long shot, but the wealthier side of my family most definitely could, but probably won’t. Will I have my name and picture all over old movie posters or written upon books and other creative works? Most likely no though it’s not too late to try. Will I always be remembered as the guy who figured out how to extend my tongue in order to lick my elbow? Perhaps if I get myself stretched out.

0527 Down the Beach

There’s no certainty that I’ll have anything to be remembered by when I reach the end of my life besides this blog that would be downloaded onto a high density SD card and buried in a time capsule with other stuff from my life. Someone could uncover that capsule, find the card, put it into some type of computer, maybe the obsolete tablet in 2125, and read about my life or what I did to try to impress bloggers on the Internet, which by then would be as easy as swiping at the air and bringing up webpages. They could then be led to all the other stuff I have left as legacies on the old net, such as my Facebook, Twitter, Google +, YouTube, Flickr, and now most recently, Vine account. They may or may not be impressed but most definitely could learn how my life was like in a world where traditional communication ceased to exist and a society of social outcasts have risen.

There has never been much consideration in my life to become famous, because I’m pretty content with my quiet lifestyle as it is and getting to do things without feeling bothered or the pressure to impress. I’m not saying I don’t ever want to be famous, because it sure is fun, but it seems so trivial when in the end we all die the same and don’t take the money or accomplishments with us to wherever we end up. And getting there involves burning some bridges, most of which I can’t afford to lose.

The only lasting legacy I could feel certain leaving behind would be my future kids (one named Liam, perhaps?) learning valuable lessons from me and knowing how to cope in their environment. One of the things they might learn from me is how to use the Internet in a safe and productive way and to avoid getting the deep depression that comes from the fickle nature of humans who ignore certain things and highly praise others. It’s not that important in the end. My other legacy to my kids would be them learning from me how to be good photographers and not waste a shot on anything. Look at the world like a photographer, see the shapes and lines, frame your scenes in your head or with your hands.

But the most important thing that I could very well be remembered by, maybe through my future ancestors, is all the lives I have inadvertently helped save by donating a portion of my blood-plasma two times a week for the last four years. There are people out there that are alive and well because of my heroic efforts, my unselfishness. Even if I am getting paid for my donations, I probably wouldn’t go through with it otherwise, it’s still nice to know there’s a part of me in a number of lucky individuals out there. That’s my legacy to the world, having helped sustain the human race. My life force literally lives in another person, copies of my own DNA mixing and mingling with others. Wouldn’t it be ironic if that person is my future wife?


In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Don’t You Forget About Me.”

Imagine yourself at the end of your life. What sort of legacy will you leave? Describe the lasting effect you want to have on the world, after you’re gone.

Winning the Contest

The World Series starts tonight! In your own life, what would be the equivalent of a walk-off home run? (For the baseball-averse, that’s a last-minute, back-against-the-wall play that guarantees a dramatic victory.)


First things first, as someone else said on here, a grand-slam in baseball is not technically a walk-off home run. The game can still be lost.

Now on to the meat and potatoes…

It was my dad who sparked the idea for the tagline on the front of the shirt but I went a little further and embellished the idea. Many of you probably have no idea what donating plasma is but I quite thoroughly explained it in a post a while back. I’m doing this contest for a chance to win an iPad (I don’t know what kind, for all I know it’s a first genner), but I also have a chance for the second place prize, a pair of Dr. Dre headphones, and the third place prize is a Huffy bicycle. Yeah, it all sounds kind of cheesy from writing it but any reward would be fine for me.

I’m quite savvy with designing things and this is a further example of what I can do with what little graphic design equipment I have (no Photoshop, using an expired trial of CorelDraw, working around the limitations).

I would be quite happy to win this contest as I have never won anything like it in my life and it would give me confidence to do other things. Maybe if I won the center would hire me to design more things in the future. Seeing my t-shirt being worn by other people would make me very happy and would be a walk-off home run in my world.

Cslplasmacontest3 Cslplasmacontest3r

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My well thought out design

Becoming immortal on the streets

Curvy techno corners here I come 


Daily Prompt 10/21/14

P.S. I’m rooting for the Royals in the World Series! The Tigers were knocked out early so it’s seems like right to go for Cinderella over the team that swept the T’s in 2012, the San Francisco Giants.

WPC: Earning Cash, Saving Lives

0213 Saving A Life

This picture was taken back in February 2014 at the CSL Plasma center in Lansing, Michigan where my family and I go to donate plasma (the pale-yellow, mainly water portion of the blood) and earn about sixty dollars per week on two separate days: $20 on the first and about $40 on the second. At the time I was working on a 365 day photo project and this sign seemed like a great addition to the mix. The photograph means something special to me because my family and I are actually saving people’s lives (in a fragmented way) by supplying various hospitals and clinics with the essential components from our donated plasma, including proteins and antibodies, needed to make certain life-saving medicines. This is a multibillion dollar worldwide business that is viewed both strongly and negatively by various organizations because of the immediate dangers of pathogenic diseases such as AIDS/HIV being spread through the blood, tainting the plasma, and infecting patients receiving it but this seems to be under control. Continue reading “WPC: Earning Cash, Saving Lives”

Am I in a Movie?

My family and I were in Lansing on the twelfth of February – my sister Emily’s 18th birthday – and heading over to the CSL Plasma center to donate for some money like we’ve been doing for over 2 years now, excluding her and my dad. Not the best way to get by but it helps out a lot since we are so cash-strapped and can’t even afford a new dryer. It was supposed to be a great day for my sister – I mean, this is her last day officially as a kid and will soon be able to do anything she ever dreamed of, except drink yet, of course, which isn’t a big priority for her anyway.

First, my dad pulled into the Speedway/Sunny Day gas station to, you know, fill er up. It’s usually a stop and go, normal everyday situation. But today I sensed something different. For one thing, Dad was slower than usual, and he is pretty slow anyways; he was in the store for quite a while. Finally, he came out of the store with a receipt, crinkled it up, and threw it in the trash. We were making jokes about him being slow and a putz and other jokes about Charles and Al, two lovable buffoons, who didn’t go to donate today. The commotion broke out as my dad, Bob, was pumping gas. I was in the middle seat, thinking away absent-minded, and heard some shouting behind me. Then I heard a gunshot but was oblivious to the moment, didn’t know exactly what was happening at first and didn’t react immediately. Then a grey SUV backed up into another behind a gas pump and smashed its front bumper up pretty good, pushing in the front end of the car like an accordion. The damaged car turned around and fled, the driver obviously pissed. We thought at first that a riot was going to break out and this was some sort of dispute. But then Emily and my uncle Jack, who saw the action from the backseat, believed it was an undercover cop after they saw a man in a brown coat running after the criminal’s car. The details were murky from my point of view but all the undercover cop did was shoot the guy’s tires; I thought someone got shot and was lying on the ground; It could have ended up much worse. The criminal fled in his car and jumped over a snow bank.

Later on, behind the snow bank, I saw a couple of men chasing the fugitive after he ditched the car which either crashed into something or was cornered by the police. The guy was obviously wanted and had been staked out perfectly at the gas station. As we were finally getting the hell out of there another grey SUV pulled into the gas station and seemed to drive over the debris left over from the collision as if the driver didn’t notice it was there. I thought “how stupid can this guy be?”

I guess it’s a good thing we weren’t in the middle of the commotion or dad wasn’t walking towards the store as that SUV backed up into the other one. We should have ducked our heads when that gun went off but I guess we’re not so used to situations like this. It was fairly controlled and the cop knew what he was doing and obviously had some backup to stop the criminal from getting away. Still, though, shooting a gun off in broad daylight in front of innocent bystanders is a bit risky. Jack had this crazy idea afterwards that it was a scene being filmed for a movie and the people at the gas station were extras. It sure seemed like it because I’ve probably been to gas stations a million times and nothing like this ever happened. It was like an action scene from an old Bruce Willis’ flick or an episode of COPS. Either way, it was surreal.

Dad was so slow getting out of there, just taking his merry time with pumping the gas; Mom and Jack were yelling for him to hurry up, and it is funny when my uncle Jack gets nervous because he sounds like a little schoolgirl with his voice getting high. A blue-shirted employee of the Sunny Day convenience store came out and looked around like “What the hell?”

In front of us was a brown car at the pump and an African-American man near it with a winter hat and a red plaid, Paul Bunyan-esque shirt on. He was just laughing like what just happened was no big deal. Yeah, I’m sure he’s seen his fair share of eruptions in the cruddy city of Holt-Lansing.

“Just another day in Lansing” I said.

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and then…

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Another thing like this happened on July 7, 2007. 7/7/7. Supposed to be one of the luckiest days ever but not for an unfortunate driver in Detroit. As we were heading out from Detroit at night from a 14-inning stint with the Red Sox, the Tigers winning by the way of a walk off double, we came upon an intersection on MLK Boulevard. We were about to cross it when a car came zooming by from the left and hit the side of a car coming from the road in front of us, smashing in it’s side door and spinning it around several times. The other car just kept on going through the intersection and never looked back, the driver not stopping and facing up to their reckless, life threatening mistake. This night was another lucky break for us, being in the right place at the right time. Dad called in the accident like a noble Samaritan would.

Afterward, back in 2014, we donated and got our money and left the strange city of Holt-Lansing where there are shoot and runs, people just nonchalantly walking out into the street full of cars, and poor beggars on every corner. As day turned to night, we arrived at Ruby Tuesdays in Okemos to eat dinner. A fine restaurant with a nice salad bar that really upped the meal I got (a slice of hickory bourbon chicken with a side of onion rings). We had a young waitress that looked like in she was in her 20s, blonde and kind of ditzy like a pre-Penny at the Cheesecake Factory. I thought she was kind of cute and I smiled at her and tried to get her attention and it worked quite a bit. Even walked by the section where she and the servers were and then walked right around the middle bar and stool section. So silly of me, I thought afterward.


DP