Oh. My. Goodness. Pulling off the tape-y stuff that they wrap around your arm when you give blood is so painful. Why does it need to hurt that much? Couldn’t they use some kind of material that’s only sticky at the ends, so all of your sensitive arms hairs don’t get pulled? Even with the arm hair-pulling bandage, I’m glad I gave blood today. I hadn’t in forever and ever (we weren’t allowed to on crew), and I need to more often because it’s the responsible citizen thing to do. And if I go to Africa I won’t be allowed to give ever again (some of their rules are stupid, like not letting gay men donate, but the Africa one is fair.), so I have to give as much as I can while I can. I thought the blood mobile at the Farmer’s Market would be a zoo (I guess my thought process was that people who buy local produce like to do good, and giving blood is good, so they’d like to give blood), but almost no one was donating, and I got in and out really quickly (I filled the bag in like four minutes. Like a CHAMP). Boom, twenty minutes, and a Nature Valley peanut butter granola bar (yum!), and instant good karma. Which is good, because I spent a lot of today working on nursing school applications, and I need all the karma I can get. I need a safety school. People only ever talk about the awesome fancy nurse midwife programs, and as much as I would love to be awesome and fancy, I need to be prepared. It’s so competitive! And this whole, rolling stone thing that I’ve been doing for the past four years has resulted in a troubling lack of moss…er, contacts who want to write me recommendations. I stand by my decisions, but now I have to live with them.
Part of working on my applications was finally, fully admitting that I’m not going to Africa this winter. And that meant actually telling the Peace Corps people. I’ve been putting it off because I should have told them way way earlier how uneasy I felt, but I was worried they’d be mad at me, so I stalled. Thing is though, that if I don’t get into nursing school this go ’round, I want to go into the Peace Corps, so it’s really in my best interest to stay friends with them, and that means keeping them in the loop. So I’m keeping my fingers crossed that they’ll still like me after I admitted to being a non-French speaking chickeny baby who doesn’t have any experience with AIDS education (I was supposed to brush up my high school French and get AIDS education for this assignment).
I made more rabbit meatballs tonight, and had them with kale, and delicious pink linguine that I got at the Farmer’s Market. I kind of wish I had taken a picture, because it was a very nice meal. I seriously love it when my entire meal is local- it makes me feel so virtuous. Of course, it’s only a matter of time before I build up a tolerance to local foods and have to start growing my own in order to get the same satisfaction. I would love to get some chickens. I have to draw the line at killing animals, so I’m not going to be raising anything for meat anytime ever. A vegetable garden would be awesome though, and is actually a goal of mine for when I get my own place.