365 Days of Jazz Hands - Day 172

FRIDAY, JUNE 21st, 2013  

Opposing forces competing for the same space creates contrast and tension.  The beauty of anything is found in possibility.  In potential.  In anticipation.  All words synonymous with hope.

On any given day there are approximately 42,000 thunderstorms that occur on our planet.  If you've ever viewed an image of one of them from satellite photography, you've probably been unimpressed.  The system seems so tiny and insignificant.  

The force of that same storm has the potential to cause flash floods, obliterate communities and leave a path of thorough destruction in its wake.  From the ground view this insignificant blip on the radar screen represents catastrophe and raw, relentless power.  Albeit a highly refined and organized form of raw, relentless power.

What is fear without anticipation?  

That tense moment right before the nurse pricks your arm with the needle is the most anxious moment of giving blood, and likely the cause for 97% of our population to abstain from participation.  But that brief moment of tension carries with it hope.  Hope that a life may be spared.

This morning I found myself awake long before it was necessary.  All quiet on the southern front, I yawn and stretch my arms out wide.  

Today is ripe with potential.  

More promise than my average day as it will have a couple of additional hours tacked on the front end.  With my arms stretched out wide I give my hands a bit of a wiggle.  

Yes.  This counts as today's deployment.  

This may appear insignificant from outer space, but from where I sit, this little act carries a lot of weight.  It reminds me how to anticipate the power and beauty of everything from this moment forward.  In approximately eighteen hours I will find myself back in this exact same spot, anticipating a good night's sleep.  What happens between then and now is totally up for grabs and at least 65% up to me.  There may be tension, contrast waterspouts, thunderstorms and needle pricks.  However, there is also an abundance of opportunity.  With every thunderstorm and needle prick there is beauty and hope.  

Approximately eighteen hours from now I will lay back down, exhausted from seizing opportunities and appreciating the significance of the insignificance of all the tiny moments this day will consist of.  Moments are but a collection of many components creating a whole.  Remove just one and the entire system falls apart.

And also it's Friday.  Which means I am highly anticipating another adventurous weekend.  But first, I must go participate in my daily sparring match with Mitch.

Today's Jazz Hands burn eternal.  Day one-hundred and seventy-two complete.

365 Days of Jazz Hands - Day 171

THURSDAY, JUNE 20th, 2013  

And the storm rages on.

I prefer to sit back and watch a storm simmer, seethe and boil over than bask in the sunshine on a hot, summer day.  There is nuance, subtlety and unpredictability hidden in those dark, brooding clouds.  So much more so than a sunburn.  "Hell breaking loose" is a common phrase referring to the unleashed power of a weather system, but a good storm requires a considerable amount of highly energized organization.  

It takes many components and the right conditions to thrive.  Take one of the elements away and the whole thing falls apart.  Warmth, humidity, upper atmospheric disturbances and violent convections all must be present to sustain the life of a thunderstorm.  

These numerous conditions have to work in conjunction to enable just one storm, yet there is an estimated 42,000 thunderstorms around the world every single day.  Go figure.  

Today's Jazz Hands deployment was a system of convecting, hot blooded energy.  

Day one-hundred and seventy-one complete.

365 Days of Jazz Hands - Day 170

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 19th, 2013  

Confirmed:  Blood can be stored, unfrozen, for forty-two days.  

Confirmed:  The preferred temperature for storing blood for forty-two days is forty-two degrees, fahrenheit.  

Newly attained and noteworthy information part one:  Only 3% of the population donates blood.

Newly attained and noteworthy information part two:  The components that make up blood can be separated and each can be stored for different amounts of time.  Platelets, for example, can be isolated and stored for four to five days maximum while plasma may be isolated and stored much longer...potentially years due to developing technologies.

Newly attained and noteworthy information part three:  Me giving blood causes waterspouts in the Gulf of Mexico, unless the two events occurring at the same time were coincidental and unrelated, which does not seem likely.

Newly attained and noteworthy information part four:  My blood is obsessed with escape and escapes in record time.

Newly attained and noteworthy information part five:  Every single drop of blood that the blood bus extracts is recycled into another person in a matter of a very brief period of time.  

Newly attained but not so noteworthy information part one:  One out of every four (roughly 25%) blood bus staff members obsess about dogs and talks about them relentlessly and with conviction.

Newly attained but not so noteworthy information part two:  Blood bus staff members offer beverages, but do not serve gin and tonics.  Also, blood busses do not have suggestion boxes.

With blood flowing out of my body, the storm raged on.  I earned my sticker and enjoyed snack time.  I jazz my hands for a successful, waterspout inducing donation.  Guess how long I spent on the blood bus, from the moment I signed in to stepping back out into the world minus approximately one pint of blood.  

Give up?

It took forty-two minutes to sign in, fill out a questionnaire regarding sexual promiscuity and drug abuse, pry medical information out of the nurses, listen to dog stories, give away some blood, and pick out a tasty snack.  

Today's Jazz Hands had the requisite amount of iron content.  Day one-hundred and seventy complete.

365 Days of Jazz Hands - Day 169

TUESDAY, JUNE 18th, 2013  

Contrary to what you may now believe, based on previous posts, I respond to the sight of blood with unease.  Especially my own.  Especially when there is an abundance of it.

I can say with complete confidence that, for the most part, it is my intention to prevent blood from escaping my body.  If I choose to bleed it must be for a good cause, and in a supremely controlled environment.

That is not to say that the process is any less fascinating.  As a contributor to the medical science world (as yet to be fully realized, accepted and appreciated), I value the knowledge and technology that makes blood extraction a routinely safe procedure.

Even if the ritual takes place on a bus.

But that's tomorrow.  Let's embrace today and not get too far ahead of ourselves.  Today I must navigate through a complex system made up of many components that combine to make but one, finely tuned machine.  Today I am but one small bit of an equation that is meaningless without the network.

I am a thrombocyte.  A platelete.  A fragment.  A mere constituent.  

Today's Jazz Hands facilitated clotting to prevent the loss of fluids.

Day one-hundred and sixty-nine complete.

365 Days of Jazz Hands - Day 168

MONDAY, JUNE 17th, 2013  

Today's hand jazzing deployment was administered in such vigorous fashion that all of the blood supply in my arms rushed straight to their corresponding fingertips to the point that it became mildly painful.  It was the good variety of pain, though, like how eating hot sauce makes your tongue tingle, or how ice cream gives you a temporary headache.  Like how a quick prick of a needle in the arm is followed by a subtle cool sensation.  Which brings me to the following announcement.  

Brace yourself...

The Blood Bus is coming!  The Blood Bus is coming!!!

Donating blood is a lot like recycling.  Well, it is a literal form of recycling, actually, but that's not quite what I mean.  The intended message here is that blood donation must be made abundantly convenient for the general public to participate.  If that statement is regarded as a scathing indictment of mankind, I'm guilty as charged.

I actually prefer to think of the statement as praise for those that make blood donation accessible to people like me.  Traveling nurses need not offer free t-shirts or steak dinners for me to partake, I must add...all they need to do is drive up to my place of business at a convenient time that works for me, announce their arrival and I'm there, ready to bleed, so long as I'm not on a scheduled conference call with phony accented colleagues (also known as actors).

Ready for selfish reasons, that is, as I am morbidly curious about the process of blood extraction.  Of course I relish the thought of attaining a new shirt for Pops and steak dinners are quite nice, both offerings are appreciated...it is the procedure and the sociological dynamic that takes place within a blood bus that lures me in.  I highly regard the idea that my actions may lead to some handy life saving, so there's that as well.  And the juice.  And cookie.  And sticker.  Any old excuse to wear a sticker with a cartoon drop of blood.  

Wednesday can not come quickly enough!

Today's Jazz Hands urge you to B Positive.  Day one-hundred and sixty-eight complete.

365 Days of Jazz Hands - Day 167

SUNDAY, JUNE 16th, 2013  

"Peculiar travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God."

  -Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. - Cat's Cradle

Everyone has a father of some sort.  Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. most certainly did, his name reminded him of that on a daily basis.  I most certainly do as well, and am reminded of that on a daily basis if not by my namesake, but by the institution of my upbringing.  I find myself average, at best, at almost everything I do.  Every accomplishment I have ever had, currently have or will one day have I earned, am earning and will earn with effort and hard work.  My moderate skills in life are not the fault of parenting, but the resiliency and work ethic that has made it possible for me to achieve success, in any capacity, is a direct result of my father's guidance.  

I am now a father of two amazing children.  They can be a great source of frustration at times, but I now see how they are merely returning the favor to me that I once afforded my parents.  I was merely an average pain in the ass, but I worked exceptionally hard at it.  My kids are paying the favor forward.

My hope is that I can instill strength in my children as my father did me.  If I have anything to do with it (and I should since I am their father), they will not fail for lack of effort.  I have lofty expectations of myself, of most of the people around me, of humanity as a whole, but especially of my children.  They likely consider it a thorn now, but one day my hope is that they appreciate this guidance that they are receiving, just as I received once upon a time from my father.

I believe Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.'s quote from the book "Cat's Cradle" is a statement regarding a philosophy in life.  The spontaneous diversions can be fruitful, they take you out of your comfort zone and thrust you into a world of unknown adventure.  Blazing a new trail, you may find yourself in peculiar predicaments that challenge your equilibrium, but the experiences will no doubt make you a better person.  The unexpected can be rewarding, in other words.

When I uprooted the wife and kids to move far from home it was the most difficult decision I've ever had to make.  The comfort of familiarity and the safety net of friends and family was challenging to walk away from and still is to a great extent.  I wish that it was possible to visit my dad today and wish him a happy Father's Day in person, but a card with well wishes and a phone call will have to do.  

If it is any consolation, the approach that I have had on this journey far from home, the sense of adventure, experiencing challenges head on and making oranges out of clocks, etc...comes from my upbringing.  I embrace the Royal Jazz Hands because of my dad and the attributes that he has instilled in me.

Thank you, Dad.

Today's Jazz Hands go out to all of the fathers out there.  Building foundations is a hard job...you've earned this day...embrace it!

Day one-hundred and sixty-seven complete.

365 Days of Jazz Hands - Day 166

SATURDAY, JUNE 15th, 2013  

If all of our assumptions were true regarding their kind and what their existence stands for, it stands to reason that they'd all discard their signs, utter one last prayer, close their eyes and step out into moving traffic to put an end to the suffering once and for all.  Something tells me we've got it all wrong.  Something tells me there are those we regard as much more privileged that are suffering much more than they.  

My $5 dollars will not save Pops, nor will it restore his faith in mankind.  Not likely anyhow.  The money means more to me than it does to him is my guess.  Not necessarily in its intrinsic value, but the implied weight that is lifted when I hand it to him.  My guess is that finances, of any sum, burden the homeless more than we imagine.  Sure, they are begging for that money, but that seems to make my case stronger.  

I suppose that the disposable camera, if returned, could very well contain captured moments of misery.  Imprisoned within each snapshot will be pain, suffering and despair.  

If I never get that camera back, which is a reasonable expectation, I imagine that the images contained within will be suffering's antithesis.  Only a man that has been through Hell and back can truly know the brilliant promise of Heaven.  I imagine the photographs Pops takes will exhibit the potential of that promise if nothing else.  When there is nothing else, perhaps hope is what you cling to the most.  

Is it possible to photograph hope?

Or maybe the pictures will be of homeless people's butts and penises.  Also a reasonable expectation, all things considered.

Today's Jazz Hands hope for the former, not the latter.  Tonight's Jazz Hands are going to go and enjoy a cold pint.  Or two...etc...

Day one-hundred and sixty-six complete.