EvDevs

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[evdevs-blog]

Bus stops and funerals? Pastries and insurance fraud? Angels and prostitutes? There may be more to this town than bad weather.

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My second work of fiction takes a look at morality through the lens of poor mental health. This is a discussion of mental illness in the form of a narrative.

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Leeches Eat For Free

Cover Letter I was very grateful for this assignment. I revel in the opportunity to exact my personal agenda, especially when I am graded on my effectiveness in doing so. I have chosen a topic that I feel passionately about and have for a long time. I enjoy contributing to saving lives as well as improving and preserving my own. The goal of the paper I have written is to convince you that for the United Blood Services to adopt more mutualistic policies would be greatly beneficial to both people in need of blood and people in need of supplementary income like myself. I experienced minimal difficulties in finding viable information to support my argument, really the only difficulty I encountered was finding cooperation with the representatives of the United Blood Services when probing them for answers to, frankly, simple and reasonable questions. Leeches Eat for Free Most of us are taught that nothing in this world is free. Everything in life comes at a cost, and life itself can be extremely unaffordable. Dr. Amy K. Glasmeier and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology have developed a projection of the cost of living for every major city in every state of our nation. According to their Living Wage Calculator, in the city of San Luis Obispo the necessary annual income of a childless, single adult that is financially independent is 24,761 dollars. This means that if I wanted to be able to support myself right now, I would have to work a little over fifty hours a week. Of course I would have to drop out of school as well because the cost of tuition in addition to Glasmeier’s projection of living expenses would require me to work more hours than there are in a week. This reality is disheartening and troubles me deeply, however I have to acknowledge that there are people in much worse circumstances than me. For example: children suffering from anaemia, women that are experiencing complications during their pregnancy, or victims of severe accidents in trauma. These people have a common need for clean, healthy blood, which luckily for me, is constantly pumping through my readily available veins. Before I present my argument I want to provide you with three definitions from the American Oxford Dictionary. Parasitism: Habitual reliance on or exploitation of others ex: tapeworms, fleas, ticks Mutualism: The doctrine that mutual dependence is necessary to social well-being ex: bees and flowers, zebras and oxpeckers, dogs and humans Hero: A person who is admired or idealized for courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities ex: firefighter, police officer, blood donor My argument is, as I hope to demonstrate in this paper, not unreasonable nor ill-conceived but rather a logical proposal. Its application would see a more mutualistic society and benefit all parties involved. I am arguing for the financial compensation of blood donors. According to the United Blood Services’ website, the nonprofit organization has existed for 73 years and was first established as the Salt River Valley Blood Bank in Phoenix, Arizona. Their website also suggests that blood donors are heroes for their generous contributions to saving lives. But hero and free don’t necessarily need to go hand in hand. There are plenty of occupations that our society considers heroic that definitely do not work for free. Firefighters, highway patrol, even navy seals; they all save lives and are recognized for their brave and noble actions not only with praise, admiration, and hollywood movie portrayals, but they are also recognized for their time and effort with sizeable salaries and pensions. United Blood Services recognize the time and effort of the heroes whose blood they rely on with a reward system. The description of the reward system appears as follows on their website: “All who give blood during a calendar year are automatically recognized and rewarded in the Hero in Me Program. The program uses Gold, Silver and Bronze recognition levels to offer benefits to donors who give regularly during a calendar year. The program also offers reward points for specific activities; these reward points can be redeemed for thank-you gifts.” Curious to know why those that surrender their blood for the greater good of mankind don’t deserve more than a thank you, I decided to call United Blood Services and ask a representative. After being passed around to a few different people, I was finally connected to man who calmly told me, “We depend on the generosity of volunteer donors. Studies show that the safest blood comes from volunteer donors, so the State of California does not allow us to pay donors.” The line sounded rehearsed so I hung up and Googled it. The first result was a frequently-asked-questions page from the San Diego Blood Bank website. The same line that the representative I spoke with used was provided almost verbatim on the website as an answer to a question regarding payment for blood. I was unable to find, however, any evidence of this claim or any research to back it up on either the San Diego Blood Bank website or the United Blood Services website. This idea that the safest donations come from volunteer donors, seemingly unbacked by any research, intrigued me none the less. I decided to look into programs similar to blood banks. Sperm banks do not subscribe to the same philosophy of the United Blood Services. According to the California Cryobank website, sperm donors are paid up to 125 dollars per donation and are allowed to donate up to three times a week. That means as a sperm donor I could make 1,500 dollars a month. Interestingly enough, their website calls its donors heroes just as the United Blood Services does. With 1,500 extra dollars a month I could work part time, go to college full time and still be able to live comfortably on my own by supplementing my income with the money I receive from the sperm bank. So why aren’t sperm banks concerned with the safety of the donations they receive? Why not follow the model of the United Blood Services and rely solely on unpaid donated sperm? I came to the conclusion that to find the answer I would have to compare the requirements of donor eligibility for blood donors and sperm donors. It is surprisingly difficult to become a sperm donor. Upon acceptance of a prospective donor’s application, the prospective donor will undergo a four-phase screening process. Phase 1 is concerned with determining the eligibility of the donor. The donor must provide a sample to be lab tested and is required to be able to produce above average levels of sperm as a normal male. The donor will then meet with the Donor Coordinator and provide a brief family history and leave a second sample for testing. Phase 2 involves more extensive screening. Donors will provide weekly samples as well as submit to STD/genetic disease testing. Donors will meet with a genetic counselor to fill out a detailed family history form. Donors will then write a personal narrative and provide a baby photo. Donors will be subjected to various interviews with “Healthworkers” and submit to another health examination. Phase 3 requires the donor to enter into a contract with the sperm bank that binds the donor to a 6-12 month period in which they are expected to provide at least one sample a week to the bank and have quarterly blood and urine tests and biannual physical exams. The last phase of the process is a final blood test six months after the donor’s last sample collection. Other eligibility requirements for sperm donors include: being between 20 and 39 years old, being at least five feet and seven inches tall, having or pursuing a college degree, and being able to legally work in the United States. All of this information is outlined on the Sperm Bank of California’s website. Compared to these stipulations, blood donor requirements are extremely minimal. When I donated blood last year, I was asked to fill out a few forms regarding my health, medications I use, my weight and height, and my recent sexual activity. This process took not but forty-five minutes and one hour later, the United Blood Services had my life essence all bagged up and ready to save lives. It seems to me as if the UBS’s argument that unpaid donations are safer isn’t very valid. Clearly the rigorous screenings conducted by sperm banks are far more extensive and they can still manage to pay their donors more than a part-time job can. I don’t even have to make an appointment with a sperm bank to know that I wouldn’t qualify as a donor. This is disappointing because I certainly could use an extra 1,500 dollars a month. However, I know for a fact that I qualify as a blood donor because the United Blood Services has contacted me over the phone nearly every other day since my first donation a year ago to ask if they can take more blood out of me. When I politely refuse, the representatives attempt to sway me by informing me that less than 1 in 10 people donate blood in the United States. But this problem would easily be quelled if blood donors had monetary incentive. And the idea that this notion is a selfish one is ludicrous. Find me one CHP officer willing to abandon his/her 92,640 dollar base salary (which does not include additional pay incentives or overtime compensation they receive) simply because the gratification of saving lives should be payment enough. And when “Donor Recruitment Representatives” working for United Blood Services are making 41,244 dollars a year on average and “Donor Outreach Supervisors” are making 41,510 dollars a year, why aren’t the people that actually make their whole system possible being compensated? If I was being paid 125 dollars per blood donation just as sperm donors are, I’d be down at the clinic as often as they would allow me and I believe a lot more than 1 in 10 people would follow suit. Mutualism is a far superior system to parasitism. When both parties are benefitting it makes for a more progressive community. It makes sense that people that need money and people that need blood should be able to help each other. If a market for sperm can exist, surely a blood market can as well. The United Blood Services calls its donors heroes. If fleas, ticks, and other blood-suckers could talk, they'd call us heroes too, but when leeches eat for free, who's the real sucker? Work Cited “Blood Donor Qualifications” UnitedBloodServices.org, N/P, accessed 2/15/16 Blood Systems Inc., “Saving Lives Since 1943” UnitedBloodServices.org, 2016, N/P, accessed 2/16/16 N/A,“California Highway Patrol Salary and Benefits-Officer”CHP.CA.gov, 2016, accessed 2/20/16 Glasmeier, Amy K., “Living Wage Calculator,” LivingWage.mit.edu, 2016, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, accessed 2/16/16 Glassdoor, “United Blood Services Salaries”Glassdoor.com/Salary/United-Blood-Services- Salaries, Glassdoor Inc., updated February 8, 2016, accessed 2/20/16 The Sperm Bank of California - Reproductive Technologies, Inc., “How to Qualify as a Sperm Donor” TheSpermBankofCa.org, The Sperm Bank of California, accessed 2/20/16 U.S Department of Health and Human Services, “Guidance for Industry: Eligibility Determination for Donors of Human Cells, Tissues, and Cellular and Tissue-Based Products (HCT/Ps)” FDA.gov, August 2007, Center for Biologics Evaluation and Research, accessed 2/15/16

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Passage from my next project novel

A CITIZEN ENCOUNTER In 2059 ... "I PLEDGE ALLEGIANCE TO THE GOVERNMENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA AND TO THE AUTHORITY TO WHICH I'M SWORN ONE PEOPLE UNDER CHRIST WITH PIETY AND ORDER FOR ALL" These are the words. Above the mantle in every household. Engraved in the rims of the drinking fountains in the schools. On the evening news before the broadcasting, they are spoken. There is a man that knows these words and every verse after. He is a man fit for his work. He is Detector Rylan Schulz, active duty eleven years. An official Detector all of three years. He acts always with the knowledge in mind of the breadth of his nation's patriotism. His steps greet the street he stands upon with no regard for volume, and the pavement meets his boots with much a clamor. He folds his hands behind his back as he navigates the common-road. There is another rhythm of boots against the pavement. A calculated percussion of steps with punctuality in mind. They are not the boots that Rylan Schulz wears. He stops and listens to the echoes of steps sailing down the common-road. They are a working man's boots. A Class-two worker. White collar, blue blood. Not a factory worker or a farmer. These are not a constructor or a ditch digger’s boots. There is no steel in the toes of these boots. These are the sounds of boots that have never touched filth. Boots that sit beneath a desk. Rylan stops walking as a man turns a corner and appears in front of the Detector. He's walking toward Rylan in a pattern of steps that fails to deviate. His hand secures his briefcase confidently at his side. Rylan can see the calloused knuckles of the man. He can see the crookedness of his nose from when it'd last been broken. This is a man accustomed to hardship. Surely he lives in this town. Rylan can appreciate this fact. The man approaching the Detector is called Buck Hughes. This is his neck of the woods. Buck has brushed shoulders with every nightmare you've ever had just walking the streets. He's bumped into every hustler, every low-life, every sidewalk-sally you can think of. This town, it's the kind of place that doesn't get talked about on the evening news. There's a tweaker in every nook and cranny of this town, and Buck Hughes has tossed the change in his pocket at each and every one of them. His steady pace persists as he passes the Detector. The men regard each other in their own way. The dispassion in Buck’s eyes fascinates the Detector. Citizen. The words tumble down from Rylan's mouth like boulders. Have you no eyes or no sense? Apologies officer, Buck replies without a shred of excitement in his words. If I'd expected to see an authority of such stature as a Detector, I would not have failed to recognize your position over mine. I would have removed myself from your path without question, officer I assure you. Rylan Shulz is appalled at the informality of the citizen’s tone. His casualness, so insulting to the presence of authority, and all the more shocking in the presence of an individual so forthcoming with authority as Detector Rylan Shulz. Are you blind? Can you explain this failure of yours to recognize the robes I wear? This crucifix on my breast, the gun on my hip, am I to believe you have never seen these things before? I cannot explain it, officer, I can only apologize. Recite, citizen. What will you have me recite, officer? Is it not obvious? Recite the ordinance that you have bastardized with your insubordinate demeanor. Class-threes are not required to memorize the ordinances. I am not addressing a Class-three. I've produced no identification, how can you know my class position? That briefcase does not contain a hammer and nails. You did not purchase that coat with a goat farmer’s wage. Are you prepared to tell me otherwise? No, officer. Then I have no reason to believe you are anything less than a Class-two. You may proceed with reciting, citizen. Ordinance nine, section four, Buck does not blink as he speaks the words. Thou shalt honor the presence of the authorities who act on behalf of the Lord. The Detector does not speak. He stares at the citizen before him without certainty of how to proceed. The communicator on his wrist steals his attention away from Buck. A woman's voice calls out to Rylan. Suspects encountered, sir. Awaiting orders. The Detector does not break eye contact with Buck as he raises the communicator to his lips. Detain and relocate to holding cell. Sir, says the woman. The suspects are in company with noncombatants. How should I proceed? Detail the noncombatants. They’re negroes, sir. What should I do? How many, the Detector is peering into Buck's eyes which fail still to blink. Three, sir. A female and two children. What are the genders of the children. One male, one female, sir. How old. Nine and six respectively, sir. The Detector is silent, but only for a moment. Shoot them. Detain and relocate the suspects. Understood, sir. The communicator falls silent. Buck is forcing every muscle in his body not to contract. The disgust in his eyes does not go unnoticed. Has my respect for protocol disturbed you in some way, citizen? No, officer. Have I acted within the boundaries of the laws that the Lord has blessed our nation with, so that we might remove ourselves from the degenerates of a godless, lawless society? You have acted in accordance with the laws of our Lord as they have been interpreted. As they have been interpreted, or as they are, citizen? As they are, officer. Detector Rylan Shulz looks unamused. He opens his stance to Buck, the crucifix stretches across his chest. Relieve yourself of that briefcase and interlace your fingers behind your head. Why will you have me do this? The Detector retrieves the handgun from its home beneath his left arm. I am placing you under internment. This is outrageous. What is the charge? Contempt of authority. Perhaps suspicion of paganism. This is an offensive, unwarranted reaction. Relieve yourself of that briefcase. Buck’s face tightens. His eyes stay fixed on the Detector as he drops the briefcase at his feet and locks his fingers behind his head. On your knees, citizen. This is excessive, I’m being compliant. You’re demonstrating behavior uncharacteristic of a natural, Godfearing American. Buck says nothing and lowers himself to his knees. I will ask you to remove your jacket now, citizen. I have reason to suspect you of being armed.

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Fated

He lay dying as she sat and watched. The wind hollered over the mountains. She reached over and placed a hand on his chest. The paint from her fingernails had faded. He thought she was trying to comfort him. She found the cigarettes in his shirt pocket and removed one. She felt around her own pockets for a light and found none. He strained himself and winced in misery as he struggled to raise his arm, torn and bloody and shaking. He retrieved his matches from his coat pocket. She could tell he was in agony as he extended his arm to her. She regarded him with a cold, squinting stare. They both knew it was the last thing he’d do and neither had words to explain what this meant. She plucked the matches from his trembling fingers and his arm fell across his chest, exhausted. She struck up the cigarette and tucked the matches into her breast pocket. She reclined on both hands and shut her eyes as she sucked the the hot smoke into her lungs, the end of the stick burning fiery as the sun coming down behind them. She opened her eyes when he stopped breathing. The cigarette had long burned out and she took another from his shirt pocket. She sat there in the cold and dark, shivering and smoking and tears coming down her face. She hated him. She’d loved him once, but she hated him now. She knew he’d loved her, even after she’d done as much as she could to make him hate her. She cried more and the cigarette fell to the wet ground. She lifted one of his arms and placed it around herself and nestled into his soaking, bloodstained jacket. She rested her face on his chest which no longer rose and fell. She hugged him close. She figured it wouldn’t make a difference. He was dead now so he’d never know. The night came and went as she lay there beside him and thought about the way things had ended up.

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Caught by the light of the moon

And what can I do for my state police tonight?

He rolls the window down a little more.

Driving a little fast back there.

The air is cold and wet.

Am I being charged with something?

He looks him up and down.

Well thats up to you son.

He has both hands on the steering wheel.

Man with the gun calls the shots officer.

He stares forward at the moon in front of him.

You look like youve called some shots.

He grins.

I wont lie I got a license to carry but I keep my tools in the shed.

Its a full moon out.

You own this car?

Big bright yellow moon.

Yeah shes mine. Handsome devil on this piece of plastic in my wallet should corroborate my story.

His hands are white.

I ran your plates son.

His face turns white like his hands.

You dont have to explain shit to me Im quite familiar with how my state government works.

He keeps staring straight ahead.

And what about your federal government son?

He chuckles.

Oh I could talk your ear off but first I think I need to see some ID first.

Now he looks him in the eye.

I thought I was calling the shots.

He doesnt blink.

You chose to wear a badge and when you wear that badge you choose to play by certain rules. If you want to abandon those rules thats fine but then the only rules left to play by are mine.

His hands are bone white.

Step out of the vehicle. Slow and steady if you know whats good for you.

His grin is long gone.

Go home and kiss your wife if you know what’s good for you.

He can hear the sound of sirens coming from the city behind them.

Shes in the trunk son isnt she.

The moon is burning.

I dont know what youre talking about.

Big bright yellow moon.

Its over son.