Summer In The North

I've been trying to get my thoughts together and do a blog on self-determination, but with the amazing weather we've had since I got out of the hospital, I haven't quite found the time. Camping on beaches whilst shooting guns really eats up your time. Luckily, I pushed myself out of my comfort zone today and wore shorts for the first time in a decade, so I now have a subject to write about.

I'll start off with this: I'm terribly self conscious of my legs since I've broken my back. Most of the time I look down and see these shriveled, knotted sticks where these powerful limbs used to be. But today, that all changed. How? I forced myself to go out in public and present my matchstick legs, for better or worse. And you know what? I feel better about myself. Now, when I look down, I don't see broken, unusable parts. I see me. And it feels great.

As I write this, listening to Bad Brains at high volume, marveling at how much my attitude towards my body has changed over the last 4 years. I used to see this frail, broken reflection in any surface with half a shine. I used to cry myself to sleep because I thought no one could ever love this body, including myself. Now, I just see me. I see my body for what it is, and for the first time, I really accept it. I love it. I love it because it is mine, and no one else's is like it. I am not broken. I am a unique specimen, amongst a sea of unique specimens. And I will swim on.

So, I have a project for you all. Do something that scares you this week. Put yourself out of your comfort zone, even if it's just a little and for a moment. You might be surprised with the results. Word.

Thoughts On The L.A. Riots

I just watched a documentary called Uprising: Hip Hop And The L.A. Riots. It is narrated by Snoop Lion (formerly Snoop Dog for the hip hop illiterate) and tells a pretty objective account of what happened during the end of that history making month of August in 1992. It did a very good job of showing the oxymoronic aspects of the events during and after the riots, such as showing the unifying of the African American community (to destroy their own neighborhoods and raid Korean shops).

I remember watching the riots on T.V. I was 10 and a naive pseudo social anarchist and wanted so much to go to L.A. and see what was  going on for myself (again, naive). I've always been a rebel, and I was fascinated . There was fire and looting and fighting back against the police and everything else that goes along with a city when, as The Roots album that would come out seven years later would put it, "things fall apart." At the time I thought that it was a perfectly logical reaction to the injustice that sparked the largest riots in U.S. since the 1960s. But, being 10 years old, I had no real idea about how truly insane and self destructive the events of the spring of 1992 were. But in the years to come, two events in my life gave me an intimate perspective on violence and rioting.

Almost a year and a half after the L.A. riots, I was living in Sheridan, Wyoming when a man walked onto the football field during 2nd period gym class and began shooting in random directions before taking his own life. I remember hearing the shots, the screams, the teachers melting down in front of their students. Then, during my freshman year at Albuquerque High School in Albuquerque, New Mexico we had a full scale riot at my school when the power went out during a storm and when the backup generator failed (unfortunately I can't find any articles online about this event. If anyone out there has any information about it, or if you were there, please post in the comments section.) These two events changed my opinion on "civil unrest" forever. 

After experiencing these two events, my naivete thoroughly destroyed, they just make me wish we, as a species, could figure out how to treat each other with at least some modicum of respect. Sure, my two examples pale in comparison to what transpired in L.A. in 1992 (or the Watts riots in 1965, for that matter), but they served, in my life, as examples of what not to do. Riots solve nothing. Attempted murder followed by suicide doesn't fix anything. Running wild in your school setting trash cans on fire and fighting anything that moves doesn't solve anything. The only thing these events do is scar our minds and destroy our communities. Rioting and looting may look cool on TV, but in the real world, all they do is perpetuate the division of our species and make it nigh impossible for us to begin the process of making our society better and safer, for everyone.

The Homestretch, and swimming.

I just deleted almost a page of what is quite possibly the worst thing I have written. It came off as contrived and forced, and as I read it back to myself, I had a vision of my future, and if what I had written was some kind of indicator, and I think a piece of me died. One must be careful of what one publishes. Proofread, proofread, proofread. 

Now that we're past that bit of unpleasantness, on with story.

Today is the first day in almost a decade that I've been wound free. 

I'm just going to let that sink in. I haven't been in a pool in a decade. I haven't been hot tubbing since the Motorola Razr was the coolest flip phone anyone had ever seen. 

I've actually forgotten what swimming feels like. But, I've bought a pair of fashionably black board shorts and am quite looking forward to the experience. Given the vast changes my body has gone through since my last time it was in anything larger than a bathtub, I feel like I get to re-experience something for the first time. How cool is that?

And now, I must muster the last reserves of my sanity focus to get through the next two weeks of physical therapy, and then watch out, for I will be in your midst again.

Boredom (de dum de dum)

It's hard to come up with content for this blog when I'm stuck in a hospital room 24/7. There are only so many pictures you can take of the same setting before you start to go slightly mad. This is the tough part of healing. For me, boredom is a surefire path to depression and self destruction and all that jazz. I have to focus on not losing my shit when I'm stuck in one bed for a couple of months. Though, this time around has been different. It's amazing on what having goals and things to look forward to can do for your psyche. When I get out of here, I can go fishing and for the first time, I won't have to worry about bandages getting wet or wounds getting infected. I can crash on some one's couch without worrying about my wounds staining it. I finally go swimming. I honestly don't remember what swimming feels like. 

I also really have to stay focused on my health when I get out of here. I have to do pressure reliefs every 15 minutes for the rest of my life, although this is a bit of a blessing in disguise for me, because it allowed me to buy a really nice outdoor watch on the auspices of it having a resettable timer. I'm such a good salesman. I can convince myself to buy anything.

If all goes well, I'll be back in my chair in my chair for the sitting protocol portion of my stay in 12 days. Then 14 days of sitting in my chair for 15 minutes at first, and increasing it a little each day until I'm back in fighting shape, as the phrase goes. And then, as long as I pay attention to my body and don't ignore the small indicators of my skin health, I should be able to avoid these damnable hospitals for a decade or 2. 

I keep dreaming about what swimming feels like. 

Musings On Life And Fear

Tomorrow I go in for what basically has to be the last flap surgery I ever get. If I screw up again, I could lose a leg. Or worse. And now, I can't screw up. I have so much I need to accomplish in this life. And no, I don't mean want. I mean need. I've finally put myself in a position to fulfill my wildest dreams, a position very few people get to, and even less seize and follow through with. I've had 10 years to put myself in this position, and the last thing I'm going to do is let all of this slip through my fingers. 

I hear from a lot of people that they go with the flow and it takes them where they need to be. And that is awesome for them, but I've found, in my life, especially since I've been a paraplegic, that I have to fight for every single atom of what I have, where I am, and most importantly, who I've become. And I'm damn proud of it. As the saying goes, you either make shit happen, watch shit happen, or wonder what the fuck happened. I think you know which one I want to be associated with. 

One common misconception people get about me is that I'm fearless. This is one thing I am not. I'm scared shitless about 50% of the time, and it comes in many forms. Sometimes It's the fear of becoming the person I was, sometimes it's fear of who I am now, sometimes it's fear of the future me, and sometimes it's fear from being at the top of some peak with a blind roll over in less than prime snow conditions. Right now it's the fear of dying on the operating table of some one in a million mistake. And I wouldn't have it any other way. For me fear is the greatest motivator. I channel my fear into determination and motivation. I love fear. I feed on it. 

So, for all of you out there who haven't done something (positive, I don't mean go out and try heroin because it scares you or something like that) because it scares you, I suggest giving whatever it is a shot. The worst thing that could happen is failure, and if that failure doesn't kill you, it will teach you something about yourself, and the more you can learn about yourself, the better prepared you'll be to deal with this whole life thing. So go scare yourselves shitless once in a while. I'll be there on the other side with a pint and a ride to the ER.

Fear And Loathing In The Land Of Entrapment

As I lay here, 3,000 plus miles away, my home town is being torn apart by fear, ignorance, and a lust for revenge. I’m watching newscasts that look more like Tel Aviv than The Land Of Enchantment. There is hate being spewed at both ends. Those that are supposed to protect us are running loose, an antithesis of “To Serve And Protect.” There are people being tear gassed in the street. There are casualties on both sides. And for what?

I understand that policemen need to protect themselves in the process of protecting us. That being said, I don’t believe that quasi-military police officers should be able to shoot a homeless man in the back because he is an “eminent threat.” I’m not absolutely sure about this, but last time I checked, homeless campers don’t tend to wield firearms at police officers. They tend to pack up and leave. What was different here? What went so tragically wrong that now we’re warring on the streets of Albuquerque, like packs of wild dogs being chased by ranchers with blood lust and tear gas?

I remember the first protest I participated in when we first began “The War On Terror.” I remember the policemen lining the streets in riot gear and standing in stoic silence, so perfectly still you’d think it was card board cutout, placed there as a scarecrow of sorts to keep the masses in fear. And for that first day, that’s all there was. We stood eye to eye, chanted slogans, held signs, and, in a semi-organized fashion, made our voices heard. I was proud of both sides that day. It was the closest thing to civil discourse between the two sides I’ve seen, and I fear will never see again. And not a week later, the dynamic had changed on both sides. You could see the foam on the edges of the mouths of everyone. And then the tear gas and rubber bullets came into play, and that brief few days of relative peace were gone forever. I don’t know who through the first punch, but as in all fights, your sense of restraint becomes a distant second to the natural instinct to fight like a crazed animal after you've been hit, and then our reptilian brains kick in and the only objective is to win at all costs. And then we all lose.

I don’t know what I’m trying to say with this rambling diatribe. Maybe this is just my way of processing injustice met with disorganized hooliganism. The only thing I know for sure is that, from a distance, this bit of social disruption is becoming so commonplace throughout the world, I fear we won’t survive long enough for the dust to settle, for the wounds to heal, and have what little humanity we have left take its course bring us back to some kind of common ground, where we won’t have to live in fear of our fellow inhabitants on this organic spaceship, hurling through the cosmos on its trip toward oblivion.

    

     

Super Adventure Girl stopped by today, and we discussed some VERY important world problems.

Some days, you just have to kick back with a friend and eat gummy things, spin some yarns, and simply enjoy the company of a like-minded human. I cherish these days. 

LP, you rule for stopping by today. And I'm super excited to see my hands free beer cozy!