Well, in my last post, I’m sure you don’t remember, I was in the middle of six weeks of IV drug therapy for a bad infection that I had in a wound. Even though the antibiotics felt like poison in my system, I survived and I’m happy to report that I received an all clear from my infectious disease doctor. That’s right, I’m alive and doing fine. The progress made by my wound has been remarkable. Continue reading “Closer to the Start of It.”
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.
How the hell do people write books about themselves? Telling stories of where they were and what they were doing, that’s one thing. How about sinking the pickax into your own gut and mining the bits for all the things that make you, you?! Who wants to do this? The first reason why I want to try is strictly monetary. I’m hoping that I can find a way to help support us in some fashion. The second reason, okay, there is no second reason. Not really anyway. I guess I feel cheated that I wasn’t able to make my mark in this world in some other fashion. Although, where I am is mainly due to decisions that I have made, I do feel that there was some kind of misalignment in the, chance, opportunity, luck machinery. The Fate thing, if you want to call it that. Anyway, things are the way they are and there’s probably a good chance my circumstances may allow me to make a mark in spite of myself.