The Invisibility Factor

The weather here’s been beautiful. When the weather reaches the point where it seems as though it just couldn’t get any better, you feel awfully guilty unless you’re outside living in it. I’ve been trying pretty hard to make sure that I’m out whenever possible. Now that doesn’t always work. I tend to be a bit of a sloth regardless of the weather. But I had a pretty good sunburn a few days ago to prove otherwise. Anyway, whenever able I like to wheel myself down to the beach and do a little people watching.

Just the other day though, I got a very good dose of something that unfortunately coincides with being a quadriplegic. Even though this quadriplegic is 6 foot 3 and 215 pounds of bone and atrophied muscle humming along at 5 miles an hour, it seems as though I acquire some form of invisibility. 82% of the time I try to adhere to my policy of “smile, greet and be sweet” when I pass someone on the sidewalk. Usually I’ll get a smile or pleasant hello, but lately with all the tourists going through town, I more often ignored. This is one thing that really burns my short hairs. In the beginning I seldom looked at anyone. As time went by and I grew into my disabled life, I softened up considerably. Nowadays, with all the misery in the world and the usual crap that floats by while you’re trying to hold your head above water, trying to spread a little sunshine is the very least we can do to improve our surroundings. I know people feel uncomfortable when they encounter things icky or unpleasant. All I can say is, I may be icky, but I’m sure as shit pleasant!

This is kind of a silly post. But it happened enough times in the past week that I felt obligated to bitch.

Starting a new conversation.

Everyday,There are probably 5 or 6 times a day that I look at the computer and think that I have something meaningful to post on this blog. The actual thing that I want to write about immediately becomes something that “I have to do.” In my own personal experience I don’t ever want to “have to do” anything. If I “have to do” something, it’s already become a task or job, telling me I need to stop what I’m doing to take care of something else. Inside, this blog is very important to me. I’m a really piss poor example of a dedicated blog writer. That I already know. The thing is, I am a bottomless well of material to blog about. Within 15 min. of waking everyday I have taken an inventory of aches and pains, thoughts and reflections about where sleep took me and almost always some recollection of memory that comes out of nowhere. Oh I have plenty to blog about.
More to come…