Weekends Suck When You Don’t Work

So… Its been a LONG freaking time since I last posted… Seems like forever.

Things have been kind of “meh” lately… A lot has happened in the last couple of months, though aside from doing things for my etsy store I don’t feel like I’m getting much done.

I have gotten my second rejection from SSA so I can do something else about that now, like getting a lawyer and filing for a hearing. In other news… Since my primary care doctor, and pretty much everyone else I have seen don’t seem to listen to me, I’m going to try again with a neurologist. I’m certainly not going back to the previous practice where I was literally told “there’s nothing wrong with you”


I clearly have SOMETHING wrong with me that is slowly getting worse. What, precisely I couldn’t tell you. I seem to think for myself that it could be MS, ALS, SMA or some other alphabet soup disorder… I do have all the symptoms for any of those 3, or the aforementioned rare disease called Myalgic Encephalomelytis (if I managed to spell that correct) the problem my PCP has is that although my symptoms are consistent in locality, they are not nessicarily consistent in severity.

For example, my left arm and leg have a significant loss of function- yet some days I can move just a little better than others. There are times where my left hand is essentially as useless as a limp noodle… Same goes for my left leg. Day to day it is extremely difficult to perform any fine motor functions with my left hand, such as picking up small objects, turning a key in a lock, or working a TV remote. Extreme temperature also seems to affect my overall function level, for example, too much heat(even just from minor exertion) can cause a nearly immediately effect of “extreme fatigue” fortunate for me, this kind of fatigue is relieved by getting cool and relaxing for a while. This is the sort of thing that prevents me from working for the man.

I don’t have the mental acuity needed to run a cash register, or use a computer for work related things… if you fuck up on the clock, it goes on your record… Belive me- that’s how I got fired from FedEx Express.

This brings me to the next topic, if I can’t re enter the workforce, then I have to get Disability if I ever want to support myself again. Yet I can’t seem to get those morons to listen to me either. What the he’ll am I supposed to do when both my primary care doc and the social security administration isn’t FUCKING listening when I explain what’s going on??

I really need someone to help me with it, someone who will actually drive the point home that, I am too crippled to work 40 hours a week, week after week, month after month. I don’t just have a physical disability, I have multiple mental disabilities as well!! Lets put it this way… Even if I was to go back to work, how many days could I be expected to show up and actually be productive? There are days were I am just so mentally wiped that I end up sleeping off and on for extended periods of time, why? Because I can’t even process the things going on on TV or in whatever book I’m reading. More often than that, I am simply not functioning well enough to leave my room, let alone try to think about anything serious. You know your brain is wiped when you can’t process enough to play a video game, let alone try to function as a working member of society.


I’m not like Joe Schmoe who was injured in some accident that left him paralyzed- my problem is in the brain and nerves themselves!! *Note- I’m not saying people with traumatic SCI can’t have the same issues that I do with mental processes, just most of the paraplegic folks I personally know- which is quite a few- are still able to work at least part time because their mental faculties are still intact.


A perfect example of my inability to work, as those who have read very early posts on my blog will know, I once ran a flea market booth. I had to give it up because I got to where I couldn’t do it anymore, and guess what? I couldn’t even be there to take the stuff out after I closed it- and someone else had to do it alone.

So… That’s why weekends suck when you can’t work.

You are constantly being reminded that you are not working by the fact that every day is a day off… And after a long enough time, all of that not working gets FUCKING boring. I am one of those who actually likes to work, I enjoyed my jobs, for the most part. The other thing about weekends is- no one is open. Well unless they are a retail place… For instance, lawyer offices, doctors and the social security administration are all closed on the weekend. I get to thinking, oh I need to mail some shit, and I need to drop by SSA office, I need to call that lawyer back or I need to make a Dr appt… Then I realize, “Oh shit, IT’S A FUCKING SATURDAY!!!” At least on Sunday you can say, “oh, I can take care of that tomorrow… ” Don’t even get me started on 3 day weekends.


I guess it kinda goes back to the whole brain drain thing I was griping about earlier in this post… It takes me an exponentially longer time to do simple things versus people with conditions similar to mine. I have a friend who has ME who I used to playfully joke that she was a “turtle” when it came to trying to accomplish anything. I now feel like a turtle myself. I joke that it feels like trying to drive the autobahn stuck in first gear… But hey, at least I’m still moving, right??

Ah well…

Ciao for now!!

Stranger than Fiction

Everyone has heard that old saying… “The Truth is Stranger Than Fiction”

I know it has been quite a long time since my last post… Things haven’t been easy for me lately. Oddly though, it is not depression that has me preoccupied these days. Sure, I feel lonely, sure I have frustrations… But the “big 3” I used to bitch and moan about are not so daunting as they once were.

Sure, being poor sucks. Being alone sucks. Living with my family sucks.

These things haven’t gone away.

I’m still in debt, I still have no income. I still have no girlfriend or any potential of such. I still have to live with mommy and daddy.

I have built myself the most comfortable cocoon as possible. Not that it’s a big novel concept or anything. If you’re stuck in the woods and you can’t get out on your own, make camp and wait for help to come along. Send your S. O. S. Eventually someone will notice your smoke signal.

I digress. The strange occupation of my mind is actually pretty simple. I have opened up to myself and admitted to many of my deeper desires that have been in my dreams since… Forever. You can’t erase who you are.

To help explain my meaning I will refer to an epiphany of sorts I had a few years ago. I was working for FedEx ground, and dealing with a lot of emotional issues. I had let my obsessive nature get the better of me… In the workplace. Let’s just say it didn’t go unnoticed… Without going into too much detail, let’s say that I made a few… Mistakes.

So, in a fit of dysfunctional misery, butt planted firmly atop a pile of incorrectly labelled carpet rolls from Shaw, I began to internally berate myself for being foolish. I came to a point of reason, “how can I make all this MADNESS disappear? How can I rid my life of the strife? How can I be FREE?” My gaze drifted upwards towards the bright warehouse lights, my eyes watered from staring at the harsh halogens… I am taken back to my elementary school days, for the briefest moment- triggered by the lights, as I had a very similar habit in my childhood… It occurred to me in that brief return to the past.

“To be without my struggles I would have to completely erase everything I am or ever have been.” But life itself is not without struggle, and giving up myself would be a kind of “living suicide” or… actual suicide… Yet, my next thought was far more basically human. “I LIKE MYSELF!” I’m too egotistical to kill myself, figuratively or literally.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not beyond reproach- self given or otherwise. My epiphany wasn’t about rejecting anything… It was about accepting everything, good, bad and ugly.

I still needed to figure out WHO I was… Liking oneself and understanding who you are two different things. Which brings me to my point. I have mentioned my “checkpoint” questions before. “Who are you?/What do you want?” Of course the answers were prone to change. As my desires on the surface and superficial personal identity shifted, so too did the answers. A lifetime of hiding my head in the sand, or up my own ass, hadn’t prepared me well to truly and honestly answer those questions with a well-constructed answer. I wasn’t digging deep enough… letting my whims and fancies of the moment sweep me along like a leaf on a river. It was a part of my need to run from myself… from reality.

At the time my only deep understanding of myself had everything to do with the winds of change and only the faintest memory of my past. Because I was rejecting my past. My past wasn’t all bad, but it certainly wasn’t all smiles either. I hated the angry child that I recalled being.  But… It wasn’t my fault! My anger and emotional problems were byproducts of my undiagnosed Asperger Syndrome, coupled with the real struggles with my visual disability and all the BS I went through. Still I despised the self image I had developed… So, where did all that self loathing come from? Some of it was probably self inflicted… ah, yes, what did I have to be ashamed of? Note, we aren’t talking about a self loathing based on adult or teenage mistakes. This was deep seated.

Going back to my elementary school years, I thought of myself as a deeply FUCKED up kid. I was ashamed of myself. I know I mentioned something about my crazy childhood in a very early post. Sure, I had anger issues, some was definitely excessive- I had weird obsessions too.

The thing I was most ashamed of was a deep seated desire to be somehow different. Vastly different fantasies would enrapture me. One I was the hero. In the other- the one that brought me my shame- was my desire to be paralyzed. Where did my shame actually come from? It was my best kept secret! No one is a mind reader… So why was I ashamed? Well… I still can’t answer that… Perhaps I was just ashamed of EVERYTHING I stood for… Like everything I did or could possibly want was some great sin! Ah, there it is!

I was mentally abused for years.

So, every time someone shot down some idea of mine it got subverted into a “I’m not good enough to ever have a decent thought” so even my best kept secrets were a source of personal shame.

This was what I began to subvert into EVERYTHING thereafter. I was transferring my deeper faults or desires onto every single aspect of my following reality into my adulthood.

So, lately I have delving deep.


Void linked Shungite Merkaba(having THIS beauty next to me pretty much 24/7 has helped me get in touch with my shadow self.)

As I have dug down deep and brought all the muck and mess to the surface, I have also mined some lovely gems from the dusty shadowy corners of my psyche. I have come to terms with many aspects that were once hidden deep. Good or bad. All of it I have begun to truly accept. My weird quirks. My big flaws. My desires. My dreams. My reality.

The most satisfying of thesevhas been this one:

I don’t mind being a cripple. In fact, I kinda relish and treasure it!

I’m a crooked tree! I like my fucked up gnarly branches… I love my fucked up sense of humor. I am who I want to be. I am who I have always wanted to be.

To be truly happy, deeply happy… I would become just what I was ashamed to admit to myself.

Who knew?

Of course, as a parting word- I don’t define myself by my disability alone… It’s just one of many facets that make me a beautiful fucking person!


All Time Low

There is this line from a Placebo cover of the song Running Up That Hill that keeps getting stuck in my head…

“If I only could make a deal with God, get him to swap our places… ”

The trouble is, if I were genuinely asking for that deal I would certainly be screwing some poor bastard over big time.

I would not wish my persistent misery and lonely feelings on the worst person in human history. I don’t believe in the biblical “lake of fire” but I do know, from my own experiences, that Hell is a very real state of existence.

I am sick of this isolation… Sick of the dark nights and days spent dreaming (because my brain thinks I am supposed to be awake at night…) sick of it! Exactly what in the FUCKING fuck am I supposed to do? I am not talking about some existential crisis bullshit… I am talking about a complete sense of “not belonging” this place is NOT my home! So what’s my point? That’s just it, I feel pointless. My life is pointless.

I bury myself in art, music, TV, dreams, conversations and a whole bunch of other stuff and things… All to the point of running away from the truth that life doesn’t actually HAVE a meaning! It just IS.

Somehow I am finding some peace in that thought. That life doesn’t have a meaning.

“Do Not Muddy Your Waters”

The Taoist sages of ages past are right.


Fuck the system.

Go off in your own headspace and think of nothing for a while… Find some Zen.

Solved my own conundrum once again.


I still feel lonely though… I am still human seeking out human needs.

I am sorry probably NONE of this had any continuity. My mind jumps around like a wallaby on the outback… I started writing because I was feeling particularly crushed by my loneliness and feeling defeated and depleted in general, mental fatigue and worsened depression are just as much a part of my condition than any of the physical symptoms. I have explained in the past my feelings of the world crumbling down around me… Sometimes, in order to build a happy life terrible tragedy must first demolish the old one. Life is a construction project after all… Sometimes you are your own worst enemy, sometimes you just end up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sometimes you end up with the wrong tools, or you are working blind!

Sometimes, the master carpenter looks at you and sees nothing but a scrawny gnarly crooked tree. They tell you, you won’t ever make a sturdy house or beautiful bench!

I am a crooked tree, just let me grow as I am!

Let me grow and I will be a great shade tree one day. I will be a work of nature, which artists come to sketch and draw!

In these times

I have made clear mention in my previous posts of my ongoing struggle to understand the cause of my physical and Neurological issues… The issues that I have mentioned in all of the posts seem perhaps to be unrelated, until you begin to put it together and realize that there is a much bigger picture. I actually had to go through this “puzzle” game a couple of times over the last few years, coming up with a variety of inadequate explanations or otherwise dismissing the reality altogether.


Until I was faced with the hard truth of paralysis and debilitating fatigue, I found that I could sweep things under the proverbial rug and simply ignore the less disturbing symptoms that had manifested in the past few years. Beginning around 2008 I started to experience some bizarre symptoms, usually quite mild and therefore of no concern to me. In winter 2013, I began to have some disturbing “panic attack” type of episodes…. I had experienced panic attacks in my childhood and adolescence on occasion, but I never had any incidents as frightening as these.

My Dr. prescribed Xanax to relieve my palpitations, it helped, but not totally… I no longer felt “panic” when my heart went nuts, but could still feel that almost painful tachycardia. I also still felt extremely weak and short of breath during these freaky episodes. I would come to dismiss the episodes, taking the Dr at face value, not questioning the diagnosis of “panic attacks” as opposed to a symptom of a much more disturbing systemic disease.

I spent so many years around the medical industry and wanted to let all the troubles concerning my health be a thing of the past. I don’t want to spend any more time around doctors and hospitals than I have to… When it comes to my physical health, I tend to only turn to the medical-inudustrial-pharma-complex only when I can not find the answers on my own.

In August 2014, little more than two years ago, I had a realization that there was SOMETHING wrong with my body. I still couldn’t fathom what was the cause, considering a brain injury or tumor, stroke, or a disease like Fibromyalgia…

I scribbled a list of symptoms in my journal, which I primarily use to document dreams and philosophy tidbits. The following was the original list:

Difficultly processing information

Difficulty in speaking/communication

Difficulty understanding others

Shortened attention span

Impaired desicion making ability

Short/Long term memory loss

Spatial disorientation

Inability to sense time

Balance issues 

Heightened sense to pain


Extreme mental/physical fatigue


sensitive to light

Disturbed sleep

Slurring speech/stuttering

Irritability/aggressiveness and anxiety

Reduced stress tolerance

Sluggish movement

At the writing of the list of symptoms, I had noticed a significant difference in myself from years past.

For example, I have always had focus issues, anger, anxiety and depression… But these are so seriously exacerbated  by the hidden cause that I had to note that there was a significant amount of change from 2008 to 2013.

With the symptoms that have manifested since August 2014, I am finally getting around to the bigger picture. In the time of keeping this blog, and filing for Disability benefits, my effeorts in trying to figure out what my “problem” is has led to hours upon hours of research and more visits to doctors and hospitals than I would like to count.

I have been nearly convinced that I may have successfully self-diagnosed my condition as a particularly hard-hitting case of Myalgic Encephalomyelitis, or very similar condition. Often trivialized, especially in the United States, as Chronic fatigue syndrome (CFS) this is a very much misunderstood and misdiagnosed condition involving the entire nervous system and brain.

Though I am quite ready to submit to this reality, I still acknowledge that I could be wrong about the underlying cause of my condition. I could, in fact, have ALS, or a more obscure illness, from which I may or may not recover. Because I don’t know 100% for sure, I feel as though I truly am in limbo.


I have been noticing that there have been changes in my ability to do things, a marked downward decline from only a few months ago. Perhaps on top of the already existing conditions, I have also developed a mild infection affecting the upper respiratory system, I would not know for certain without consulting my doctor, which as my dear readers will note, I greatly dislike doctors office visits.

In these times most of all, I find it hard to be realistic and seem to take on a kind of “selective pessimism”… I tend towards self-depreciating comments and monologue, even if only whispered to myself in the dark. I seek a better way of living every day, whatever that calls for.


I still want to run and hide, to bury my head in the sand, especially when the poo hits the proverbial propeller. I am aware of this tendency for escapism, in whatever form it takes- be it my philosophizing, romanticizing, or simply fantasizing- this impulse to flee rather than fight has served me in the past as a survival mechanism. However, as I have said before, I can no longer run away- my problem is with me no matter where I am.


No matter its cause, my current position in life is as it is… Nothing short of a miracle of science or nature would change it. My reality is sometimes a hard one to accept, but it is here to stay wether or not I ever can fully understand it.


In these times…

I’m not dead yet!

Taking the Hit

I wish I could say that title is a reference to getting high, but I find that the opposite meaning of the word applies best in my life as of late… If anything I have been “getting low”…


I have been through some pretty rough country lately. I have mentioned these things before, but today I want to delve into the way I feel about the circumstances of my life. It hasn’t been all bad… But I still struggle with depression, despite regularly taking Paxil. It helps, a lot… But it is not a magical cure that takes away all the pain.


The strangest thing is having to really step ” out of my self ” to really understand what is going emotionally these days. I have to sometimes put everything in a box to get anything done in the average day. Obviously, this kind of mental compartmentalization isn’t a unique triat. It’s a basic survival mechanism. Back in the day of our ansector, you couldn’t be an effective hunter if you were dwelling on the emotional impact of the goings-on back at the hut.

I personally have never been particularly “in touch” with my feelings, but I still feel them… Even if they are not clear-cut and easily defined.

I don’t always have “negative” emotional experiences; I have been lucky to have good times, too. So don’t read too much into my mentioning in detail what “gets me low”… I am neither optimist, nor pessimist. I am a realist.

Before I go into a long spiel about the woes and worries I carry, I will offer a amusing analogy.

Every one knows the saying about the glass of water:

Optimist sees ” half full. ”

Pessimist sees “half empty.”

A realist sees things EXACTLY as they are.

“It’s half a glass of water.”

Individuals who are on the Autism Spectrum are the ultimate realists. For the most part, anyways. I can’t speak for EVERYONE…

Taoist are all ultimately realists.

They see the usefulness of useless things.

There is a Zen tale that tells the story of a carpenter and a tree. The carpenter looks over this old gnarled tree, proclaiming the tree is worthless because its wood cannot be used for lumber. A wise man tells the carpenter, “look again” the carpenter still refuses to see. The wise man tells him, “It can never be good for building, no. Since it can’t be cut for lumber, it has been let to grow and give shade. It can also serve as kindling and wood for cooking and keeping warm.”

The moral is that the carpenter didn’t see the usefulness of something that he himself could not use for his craft. A kind of “selective pessimism” if you will.

Anyhow analogies aside…


I have had a lot of struggles in many areas of my life, but I will just narrow it down to the 3 major issues that aggrieve me.

The first one is a long-standing issue of financial burdens and my inability to really make “good” financial plans. I am not saying that I am a shop-a-holic not by a long shot… I just lack the ability to make the merchandise pay for itself as quickly as I buy it… The problem is that I don’t post as much as I take in, as fast as I take things in… It isn’t that I really buy stuff all the time, more that I just can’t seem to PACE myself so that I can manage everything. Of course this is directly related to my neurological condition… I never had to pace myself before… Never.

I know that it is something that will be a constant learning process. It is extremely hard to learn how to pace one self when the constant is changing every time you turn around.


Number two (heh heh, poo pun) is more of a personal struggle with “what do I want to do with myself” which is really tied in to the other things in my life, and is therefore an extremely complex subject to try to define. It isn’t a singular issue.

I always check myself with these two questions spoken by Uncle Iroh on Avatar (TLA) I ask myself:

“Who are you?” And “What do you want?” These answers, particularly in the case of the latter, change some over the course of time.

What do I want?

A home if my own… A place to live that I love.

A few good, close friends. (Thankfully, I already have this blessing)

A reliable mode of transportation. (I love my Dodge)

A reliable source of income.

A sustainable hobby. (I am also lucky in this case as well.)

A life free of too much financial burden.

And, of course, a loving, kind, caring, creative, nurturing woman who I can share both my joy and sorrow with.


Which of course brings me to my third and probably most low of all of the things that I carry.

My persistent feelings of loneliness. Do I want to just jump into some relationship with just any chick? Obviously if that were the case, I would have had a bunch of girls over the last couple of years.

I seek something more lasting, not that I necessarily expect a life-long commitment from the next person who I “date” or the next ten for that matter… I don’t like the “traditional” ways to meet people either…

I hate bars for the most part, and just absolutely think online dating is just a fat waste of time. I prefer the old “meeting at a serendipitous location” such as my parents who met at a football game. My grandparents met at university.

To me, meeting someone in a place where you have some mutual reason for being there, that isn’t exclusively for meeting “the one” is more “authentic”

Meeting at a car show, in a store, at a convention, in a library, etc. You and the other person are far more likely to be your real self and not be putting on a lot of extra BS to try to sell yourself. I think these kind of relatively unguarded encounters allow people to get a more comprehensive “first impression” of one another. Obviously you are not going to just pour your heart out to a total stranger at the bookstore.


At last, I will bring this to a conclusion.

If you are looking for answers for your own direction…

Ask yourself these two things…

“Who are YOU?”

“What do you want?”

Embracing Life

With every change and challenge, I have learned a lot more about myself and how I deal with grief and loss. I mentioned in a prior post about the “five stages of grief” or “how we come to accept change”. The five stage model, also known as the Kubler-Ross model, gives us the five stages of Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and finally Acceptance. The modern addendum gives us two more stages, Shock/Disbelief and Guilt.


I experienced these in varying degrees and at various times, sometimes swaying between a sort of denial and acceptance. Perhaps this is due in part to the fact that not everything happened at once.

For example, I lost my job over a year ago, in denial about the reason for the longest time. I didn’t see at the time of losing my job how serious my condition was, because though I was weaker and had less stamina, I was still able to walk around just fine and go about my day without too much issue. As long as I didn’t exert myself or go out in the heat… I didn’t put two and two together then. Later on, I applied for Disability benefits based on my mental assessment alone that gave me a ” 50%” functionality report. I have mentioned before that I have Aspergers and mild ADHD, as well as some pretty serious Anxiety. I have struggled with depression for years as well and ended up taking Paxil to alleviate the emotional imbalances I had. I have had a remarkable change in demeanor, not only in dealing with depression, but also anxiety.

In summer of 2014 I began to experience some very troubling symptoms. Initially presenting as stiffness and pain in my legs and back, leading me to think “arthritis* my symptoms got steadily worse and more disturbing and difficult to understand. I often would dismiss my problems, drowning them in a haze of Tylenol and pot smoke. I only went to the doctor once I simply couldn’t ignore the bizzare symptoms anymore… Paralysis and weakness is not something that is easy to ignore!

In March of 2016 I found that I had so much difficulty walking around in my own home, let alone to get out and go anywhere; I couldn’t just shove my health issues in the closet under a pile of drugs like a pair of dirty socks buried under the last week’s laundry. It was at this point that I realized that I needed to face the truth:

I couldn’t walk!

I still can’t, by the way…

But I had to reach that point before I would seek help. I am admittedly very stubborn, sometimes to the point of stupidity. It took me getting to that point before I could recognize how serious and REAL my issues were.

I could not refer to myself as “handicapped ” even after I got several doctors to assess my condition and recommend everything I needed to adapt to the changes that I was experiencing. Though these doctors are presently unable to pinpoint the underlying disease, they told me “this is what you have to deal with” and they would inform me about the technology and therapy available to me.

It is really only now that I can call myself “handicapped” why I couldn’t before is because I was in denial about the full scope of my reality. The nature of the slow onset (as opposed to a traumatic injury from a car crash, fall, or industrial accident) lead me down a crooked path to accept the changes that I was/am faced with. Those who are injured tend to have a clearer picture of their situation, if only in the sense of “before ___, I wasn’t paralyzed.” In my case it’s harder to find a clear separation of what was before and what is present. I often think back to something from a year before my butt landed in a wheelchair, and can’t see it any different than if it had been last week… Bizarrely, I frequently picture my past self as the same as my present self, until I force my consciousness to separate the two. This just a facet of how human memory functions, but I find it truly intriguing. I seem to have a sort of inverted reaction. Most people dealing with paralysis have a sense of ” who I was before is who I am now ” like when they wake up there is a lingering identity of their body before paralysis.

This does pass eventually, for some it takes a long time to truly accept the hard reality. I, strangely, seem to have a retroactive sense of body function. Perhaps this is really related to my imparied working memory and reality testing because of my Aspergers syndrome… Perhaps it is because I better identify with the person who I have become because of my disability.

Perhaps it comes from a lifetime of dreaming through the “eyes of others”… Dream philosophy and Metaphysicians throughout the centuries have posited the possibility that some dreams are in fact our conscious experience of the lives of ourselves and others across the dimensions and realities.

I know that what I am bringing up here is on the ” spooky science ” side of things… But it is valid to my point.

Not every dream I have is a “interdimensonal experience” some are actually astral projection or imprinting of my subconscious mind on the astral plane… A sort of “etch-a-sketch” to work out subconscious issues. But I have dreamt many, many times, through the eyes of others. Sometimes I am a famous person (who I don’t actually know in this life) I have been a groupie touring with Dead Can Dance, living the experience through another person’s consciousness. I have been a Hollywood set director, working behind the scenes. I have died in a New York subway, as an older black man, a victim of gang violence. I have been poor man stealing food from a bodega, a widow crying for her lost husband and children, a suicidal teen jumping from a bridge, and more to the point: I have over the years seen through the eyes of paraplegics, young men injured in brutally vivid car wrecks, people born with cerebral palsy, and in a recent and interesting dream through another’s eyes, a brilliant musician and singer who is rendered quadriplegic in a random act of violence.

Many of these dreams have been so vivid that when I woke from them I would gasp from the shock of returning to this world, trying to catch my breath as my mind was reeling from the absolutely REAL sensation and perception of the other’s life.  Some of these dreams are kind of frightening if I think on them too much… Like the subway station gunshot death. I literally woke up gasping for air and clutching my heart.

The dream about the teenage boy who is paralyzed in a car accident actually has had a lasting impression on my consciousness…. I experienced the boy’s memory to the point of vividly remembering the kind of car and the truck involved… The car parts strewn across the road, the police cars and EMT responders… The hospital… His mother and father… Their house… and everything else was so detailed and vivid that I could could write a novel accounting all the little details that I saw. The sights and sounds as well as SMELLS… So damn vivid to this day…

Strangely, there is a section of I-24 that freaks me out… Like that’s where it happened… Like I have a sort of cross-conciousness PTSD… I try very hard to not think about that particular dream experience while driving because it creeps me out.


Wether or not I have a fascinating connection to other’s, I can not deny the existence of the reality in my current life here.

Hence the title, “Embracing Life”

A sign that no matter what I do in the other dimensions of dreaming, I have a very real fact in this world to deal with every day. I now can see myself fully, I can accept my reality of being handicapped. I can definitely continue my life, even if it takes turns I would never have expected! For better or worse, I am in this until my heart stops for good.



Can you dig it?

I almost didn’t do it… Sorry for the lame pun, guys… I almost didn’t do it but just couldn’t resist… I love puns and lame jokes (get it?)

I gotta stop myself before I get too carried away with the puns.


So the subject of this post is a fun little thing I found at Walmart in the impulse buy section ( imagine that) it was actually not in a display, just randomly sitting among the Pokémon cards.


This box contained a “dig your own rock” kit with a few different things that you could find in it. You had a one in 24 chance of finding a gold ore piece inside.


The kit is geared towards kids, if course, but I couldn’t resist anything having to do with rocks, and the kid inside was tickled with it. So I bought it and had to crack it open. The rock was encased in a solid block of sand that I had to chip away to get to the goody hiding in it.


Got down to the rock, as it turned out, I was lucky enough to get one of the boxes with gold ore inside!



Thought I would share it, it was really neat… I wish I could have found the display of them, I would love to get some for my little cousins and my friends’ kids.