for a day in the under-appreciated

For a friend who dealt with a heckler:

Art is never a guarantee. It's a tumultuous journey that promises exceptional highs, uncomfortable lows, and a myriad of experiences that, at the end of the journey, one could never - would never - replace.

Don't feel discouraged. This is one of the many plights of an artist. It is not an easy path we follow, but one our hearts yearn for none-the-less.

For every person who is deaf to our sound, there are so many more who can hear, who are touched, who's eyes glaze over in a recognition of souls...

And if ever you have a day where those kindred spirits are not near - or are perhaps replaced with nasty little creatures that take pleasure in spreading misery - remember your own soul, and how it delights in the creation. Remember how it makes you feel. The love affair that stole your entire being and refuses to let go; the passion it has evoked in you; the moments of sheer ecstasy that buds from inside of you.

Remember that sound, for you, and play for you.

The kindred listeners will return.

The assholes can shove milk crates up their arses and go for a horse ride.


***

Determination is the key to success. Living in your own moment is the key to happiness.

The Wandering Quad shall wander again!

It's offical!

My flights are booked and my nerves are ecstatic. Feb 18th 2015 at 11:30am, I will be sitting with sparkling anticipation as the engine gears up to roar in that inertia filled excitement of lift-off. And off to Southeast Asia will I go.

I've never been to this part of the world before. I am all at once thrilled, nervous, and ripe with extreme anticipation. I know nothing about where I'm going. Just vague ideas of gorgeous beaches with jutting rocks covered in lush vegetation that stand proudly in clear azure waters. Of warmth and jungles and unique temples. Of unfamiliar wildlife and new peoples and language. Of incredible foods and wild parties. Of new friends and new experiences.

I cannot explain to you how much this excites me. How this unknown thrills me. I feel like a kid on Christmas, and I so desperately want to rip open the packaging and learn what's in store for me. And every step is a new gift revealing its treasures. Maybe I'm wrong... maybe I won't even get to see some of the things I think are out there. But this doesn't worry me. Not in the slightest. This is part of the fascination of adventure. I cannot wait to learn.

For two months I get to wander around the other side of the world in my limping fashion. For two months I will spend every day excited to try something new. For two months I will be alive in every way.

My god... am I there yet?


Countdown to Southeast Asia : 64 days 23 hours 42 minutes.

feminists are NOT stupid

I'm not liking this thing that's going around... "fuck feminism" .. "stupid feminists" ...

Feminism is much more than one group of people who disliked his shirt, and many feminists have extremely valuable and important things to say about serious issues, such as sexual exploitation, degradation, abuse, rights restriction and more that STILL exist in this world.

We are fortunate that we live in a place where we don't have to face these challenges to nearly as severe a degree anymore, (any why? because of feminism!) so it's easy to assume feminists are only whiny little creatures complaining about silly things since topics like this shirt are only thing that's close enough to your nose to smell it - whatever your opinion is about it.

But feminism isn't stupid. Feminists aren't stupid. They are a powerful and necessary force.

I wish the rape, child prostitution and other very serious and abhorrent things that are, as we speak, occurring around the world were getting highlighted through media this intensely, because I feel it reflects more truthfully on what feminism is, what it stands for, and why it is 100% still needed.

Right now, as you're reading these words, a little girl across the world has a man on top of her, raping her, because she was sold into sex slavery. Think about that, know that this is happening RIGHT NOW. Then tell me that we should fuck feminism.


A good ted talk to help remind you:

http://www.ted.com/talks/isabel_allende_tells_tales_of_passion

Musings: feeling shifted

I woke up this morning feeling bizarrely like my whole world had moved just a few millimeters. Everything feels slightly off. It's as if all the items in my house have been picked up, contemplated, and placed back down. That someone had driven my car during the night and tried to return everything to it's original position but couldn't get it quite right. I even had to adjust my mirrors.

Even at work I feel oddly displaced, as if I don't belong here. That I am a stranger in my own life.

How odd, this persistant flux. It cannot be real, but I swim in the fantasy of it wondering if there's meaning behind it - some subconcious thing my mind is questing to tell me.

Or, maybe I just dreamed too much last night.. and it's time for a coffee.

thoughts: the creation of my stories

It's interesting how some of the prose comes out instinctively and is fully fleshed. But mostly it starts as mainly the bones of the story, with soft malleable flesh weakly holding on. Then I add to it, over time.. make it healthier. Add clothes and hair and nails and teeth. Until it is fully formed.

Every once in a while, though, I notice I've accidentally left out an entire limb, and must quickly work to add that so the story doesn't fall over.

And accessories.. Oh, the accessories. I could accessorize forever. That will be the challenge. Keeping my story tastefully dressed. Clean lines and pleasing colours.

I feel almost a sculptor. Using words as clay. I am a child at play.

Allergies??

Holy crap almighty my allergies are going ape-shit. It scares me sometimes. I'm afraid I've grown allergies to things I love. Natural scents, like essential oils or fragrant cooking spices.

I really hope it's only because I haven't cleaned my window blinds in a long time and the accumulated dust is taking its revenge on me.

Cross your fingers with me.

Yeah... I try as best as I can to be emotionally supportive. And they're holding up pretty well.. But you can see it. The pain dwelling in their eyes, looming precariously behind the shock of it all. He occasionally erupts in barely contained anger... but holds it back. He still hopes... for.. something.

Does everyone dream of walking again? - video from channel 4 news and my thoughts

http://www.channel4.com/news/paralysis-wheelchair-disability-sophie-morgan-paula-craig

This interview makes a good point. It's not just about walking, the issue is much more complex. My personal thought is that this advancement has amazing potential for the future, but I can understand completely, especially AS an ambulatory quad, why these ladies aren't jumping at the bit to partake in this. If this discovery meant perfect healthy walking and function, sure. However, as they say, this current study is not there yet. For these women, and a lot of other people I'm certain, the most important thing is quality of life. I can tell you that walking with permanent limp, tone, spasticity and pain, is not ideal; even though I'm technically closer to "normal". And I have mentioned that I do wish I'd accepted the help of a chair, and may even begin to use one now. Being visibly 'closer to normal' is not the goal. Having the best quality of life by reducing pain and fatigue as well as finding ways to ensure independence is paramount for a spinal cord injured person. Being able to stand up and take a few steps does not equal that.

And besides the physical act of walking, there is a whole lot more involved when it comes to SCI. Bowel and bladder function, sexual function, loss of sensation, hyper sensation, pain (nerve and musculoskeletal), to name a few.

Still, this phenomenal advancement does seem to promise help is on the way, even if it's not perfect, yet. It does seem to be a remarkable 'step' in the right direction. (haha, so punny :p)

And I must admit that I do hope with further studies, tests, and trials, we WILL find in a true cure for SCI.

An article in BBC news - Lesser-known things about being a wheelchair user

http://www.bbc.com/news/blogs-ouch-29459754

The first point is actually a large part of the reason I declined the help of a wheelchair when I need it. I've already had to deal with my share of ignorance with people telling me things like I'm 'faking it' or 'just being lazy'. It is incredibly frustrating and hurtful to try and have to justify yourself for something you didn't chose, and would much rather live without.

Although I can understand how there are those out there who genuinely do abuse the help that is given to disabled people, be careful and remain tactful. Because the majority of us are truly in need, even if it's for reasons one may not understand or are unaware of.

In my conversations with friends in chairs, dealing with ignorance comes up a lot. Have a read and make sure you're not one of the people we bitch about ;)

Musings: My thoughts themselves are slippery beasts. And try as I might I cannot grip them, slick as soap.

My thoughts themselves are slippery beasts. And try as I might I cannot grip them, slick as soap. Could I cast a net and tame them still... tame the fire that burns its fill. My teeth, beg to be sunk. Deep into the meat and marrow of.. what is the word for it? Nirvana? I live to exist in the cusp. The brink. The tip of a moment. A crest so rushing and powerful it removes, sheds... releases and cries.. cries to stay. But, forcibly thus, must be fleeting in order to exist. The true addicts nightmare. Never sated but for the extreme. And I am me. I am me. Forgive me not. I am me enough.

14.07

Musings: Instinctual greed, tied roughly to the perpetual blossom of boredom.

It's amazing the ebb and flow of my personal reality. Everything surges then sways, lulls then ignites. Nothing is ever constant for me. I wouldn't even know how to exist that way. I wonder what it's like; to live somewhat serenely. No major ups, no major downs. On a steel thick lake instead of this capricious ocean.

I wonder if I need instability. I have an instinctual greed for more tied roughly to the perpetual blossom of boredom. The constant demand to change / create / experience something new, may as much be lifeblood to me as it is torture. As exquisitely frustrating as it is bewitchingly full of pleasure.

I wonder if comfortable, content, complacent... are words that could ever be attached to my name. And if they could, would I be happy?

Or does my quixotic nature require a certain level of discontent, a certain amount of emotional upheaval in order to inspire and unite the chaotic worlds within myself to settle almost magically into something that gives me satisfaction like nothing else I've ever felt.

Deep. Pure. Satisfaction.

As fleeting as it is.

It is a spark flashing bright on a dark night, and eyes grow wide and radiant with wonder at the sight, before it - inevitably - cools and fades into the darkness.

I feel sometimes that I am that spark... always lusting to burn. Only ever briefly lit.

framed solely for me

These glasses are weird. Sometimes, when I am speaking to people, it feels as if nothing is real. I'm looking through a frame at a picture of reality and I am not actually experiencing the moment before me; I am observing art, in action. If I suddenly stare at you contemplatively during a conversation without any real provocation, it may be likely that I am imagining you then as a piece of art. As a structure meant to be remembered in more than just experience - but in permanence. And yet, as this moment is fleeting, and my glasses only reflect sharper reality, my mind slowly wraps around your fading moment and attempts to embrace it, framed solely for me.

Beautiful Quiet

Beautiful quiet.. in an absence of stimulation that you would not chose for yourself. I have revelled in the joy of quiet while my music blares loudly, or in a calm but empassioned coversation that engages me wholly. It is when the cacophony of existence dims and the wrong levels fade and the right levels rise and all I am left with is sweet contentment in a harmonic state of sound that is right for me.

Quiet... beautiful quiet.. is nourishment for my soul.

I am starving.

perfect hugs

There's this beautiful moment when you hug someone, just the right way, and it feels like your hearts connect. A perfect warmth blooms in that connection. A sudden peace, warmth, and safety.

I think my favorite hugs (aside from the classic loved ones, of course) are those with strangers, and it happens unexpectedly, and it's wholly heart-warming and completely innocent in its perfect connection. And for one moment you feel as if you could - more than that you want - to hold, this stranger, forever.

And then you back away, almost shy and embarrassed, at the deepness you felt briefly for someone you barely know.

Challenges of a choice-abundant society: a Ted Talk and my thoughts.

http://www.ted.com/talks/barry_schwartz_on_the_paradox_of_choice?awesm=on.ted.com_a0JT2&utm_content=awesm-inlinelinkcreator&utm_campaign=null&utm_source=facebook.com&utm_medium=on.ted.com-facebook-share#t-278908

(I apologize, I could not get the talk to embed directly here in my blog, but the link above is to the talk
Barry Schwartz: The paradox of choice.)

An excellent talk highlighting the challenges of a choice-abundant society. I've believed this for years, as this concept first punched me in the face when it was suddenly time to decide what career I was supposed to pick.

Overwhelmed by option I swirled in a chaotic torrent of angst and confusion. Still, to this day, (aside from my passion for music), I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up. Every time I start to think about schooling and what to take to have professional value, my eyes twitch and go wibbly as the many courses, careers and directions batter my senses. Before I know it, I've shut down and go back to my day job. I could be anything, and so I am nothing.

I've felt this way over a myriad of things in my life and and observed this in the people around me.

Then I experienced something new. After my accident I found myself saying to people that although it was one of the greatest traumas of my life, for the first time in as long as I could remember I felt I had purpose. Direction. I had no choice but to fight for recovery. I had one path, no other. And it was oddly, (even though painfully), deeply satisfying.

Schwartz highlights that experience through his talk, and I really appreciate the smaller details he also touches on as well - like his anecdote about the soccer game and the phone. This abundance of choice, even in the smallest of measures, is affecting our psychology in a negative way.

Again, I experienced this when one day I lost my phone and for one week I was without an alternative. And for one week I felt peace. I could no longer constantly check facebook; even the desire was erased simply because there was no option to do so. I was no longer curious if someone messaged me while I was out. I needed not worry if someone was trying to get a hold of me because what could I do anyway? And I enjoyed the scenery of the world, because I had no nagging thought in the back of my mind to bury my head into my phone to double check that random (and likely unimportant) thing through the internet.

The decrease in stress was physically palpable.

Now, I'm not certain what the solution to this is. Unfortunately in the talk he provides no real solution. Simply 'lowering ones expectations' is definitely a task much easier said than done. And changing the world of marketing is a bit of a mighty task. But I believe that if we could make a change, if we could reduce choice and options to a more reasonable level, there would be a massive change in levels of happiness on a grand scale.

I wonder what we could do...?

Food for thought, anyway.