Attempted Philanthropy

I'm pretty sure I'm going to hell. At least, that would appear to be the case from a purely probabilistic standpoint. I don't take communion, I am addicted to caffeine, and I can't even remember the last time I sacrificed livestock at the beginning of the month. And those are just the mainstream religions whose laws I regularly flaunt.

So, yeah. Pretty much screwed. If there's a hell, I'm probably going to it.

If, however, St. Peter decides where to send me not based on something silly (like whether or not I believe in St. Peter), but based on whether I'm a good person, then I stand a fighting chance.

This raises a whole new question... am I a good person? Assuming, for the moment, that I'm not, it's safe to say that I've got a lot of work to do if I'm going to escape eternal damnation.

When I was an undergrad, I was pretty active in my fraternity's philanthropic activites. There are some good memories that just doesn't work in this blog post. Ask me sometime about the haunted house. It's a cute story.

In grad school, though, I haven't had much motivation or time for community service. It's one thing to volunteer when Chad is running through the halls in the morning, waking everyone up with pots and pans and screaming, so that we can go together to work at a soup kitchen or whatever. It's another to hunt down your own opportunities.

When my friend Shirley organized a team to do a walk for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, I was like "Sweet!" Not because I particularly care about either Leukemia or Lymphoma, mind you; at least not any more or less than other cancers, viruses, or assorted diseases that have Societies. I was excited because here was a chance to do some good!

I missed that warm, fuzzy feeling, the natural high from doing something unselfish. My graduate research will (hopefully) benefit humanity, but sitting in front of my computer and dreaming of a dissertation feels pretty selfish. Bike racing is fun, but undeniably selfish. Karaoke, while a vital part of my audience's otherwise-empty existence, is about as selfish as I can be short of robbing banks. I'm a firm believer in the great joy of serving others, and I've missed that joy.

Temptation, my friends, is an ugly ugly thing. I could've raised money - the team raised over $1000, mostly due to Shirley's hard work - but instead I emptied the 8 dollars in my wallet into the registration envelope and called it even.

Brief aside: After years of bike racing, it is weird to stand in the registration line at a big tent and not be asked "Race and last name? Do you have your license?". I even caught myself looking for safety pins, but I managed not to scrum for position at the start of the walk.

When I could've been interacting with Leukemia and/or Lymphoma survivors, I was making a new friend.

While other walkers were paying attention to the opening ceremonies, I was posing with other Biomedical Engineers.

During a particularly heart-wrenching survivor's speech, I was encouraging Heidi get her face painted.

When the parade passed Heidi's van, I faked a cramp and snuck away. (I DNFed a walk. Worst athlete ever)

So, okay. I didn't exactly score as many brownie points as I could've. But let's look at this with a more positive spin: I donated money to a good cause, I showed my support for patients and researchers alike, I walked a couple of hundred yards, and I made friends with a toddler. Oh, and I got a balloon.