Hematoxylin and Eosin

Today, I gave blood as a small form of protest. I'm vying for equality here in the most generous way possible. This is my lunch sit-in. Rosa Parks would be so proud, but she couldn't "fight the power" by convincing the bus driver she was white. She didn't rest because she was tired, and I'm not giving blood because replacing a pint consumes about 650 calories.

The truth is that I'm not okay with passivity. I don't like waiting to be called. If you don't answer, I don't even want to talk anymore. I don't like being second. This game isn't fair anyway. The FDA can't tell me my blood isn't good enough. I don't receive directions or implications or expectations well. I'd rather slough them off or, better yet, trample them in my cowboy boots. Fuck you for telling me what I can't do. If you knew me at all, you'd know this part first.

I have this long list of wants. First and foremost, I want to always be creatively in charge and exert this odd form of chaotic control. Don't move my toothbrush.

I know I'm this messy, disastrous, unpredictable fixture in your life and I don't call you when I'm supposed to, but sometimes I'm sweet and bring you flowers and a Chai, or buy you the only thing you really wanted for your birthday. I just want to walk in and out of your life whenever the fuck I feel like it, but don't expect that freedom from me. You just don't get it yet, do you?

What else do I want? Everything. I want to fit into my jeans perfectly. Some are too big and others are too small and my waist oscillates between fitting comfortably into those teeny Dolce jeans I inherited and hardly squeezing into the Tavernitis I splurged on with Kara. I want more Elie Taharis, because these are perfect. I want thicker hair and lighter eyes and slimmer feet. I want to do gymnastics and speed-skate in the Olympics and learn French in two weeks and get a 39 on the MCAT. I want to be an MD PhD and backpack through South America and drive a convertible or a little red motorcycle.

This is all just a tantrum I'm throwing because summer is packing its bags and sauntering South, and this summer was perfect and excellent except for the disappearance my sisters and all that money I wasted on plane rides and Thai food. (I'm still getting over the fact that I paid for that twelve-dollar pina colada.) I had so much fun. I made soup and lasagna and cookies with Ghirardelli chocolate chips and drove to North Dakota for nothing but chocolate pudding cake and dancing in the street of something that can hardly be considered a city. I stumbled home after a game of Ring of Fire (or drove home the next morning). I almost stole a giant remote control. Friday, we'll find out if our soccer team got 1st in our league.

This is all beside the point. All I'm really trying to say is that I'm O negative. My blood is nice to have in an emergency. And so am I.