rant: I miss phone conversations

You know what I miss? Phone conversations. I really do. You remember when people weren't afraid of a good tele-convo? I do. I love the sound of someones voice. Someones laughter. I HATE text based convo for the absence of that. Don't get me wrong. Texting is convenient and sometimes very useful. But a part of my soul is still in mourning that texting has basically entirely replaced that uber fun part of life.

Is it the 90's chick in me? You remember.... chatting with a guy, (or gal..) .. and you can hear the nerves, and the spiritedness of it. The subtle seduction that might come out of a perfectly innocently worded sentence. The verbal obviousness of it. The tenor of sound that tickles you. Or just a well rounded conversation that resonates within you. I swear the sound contributes to a depth that our bodies crave. A real connection. And so your whole body is a bit charged. A subtle melody of intrigue. Because what if you say something wrong? Will they giggle? Will they reject you? Will they say something witty back that completely smooths over the incidental trip of words?

Do you remember when a pause was a... pause!? Not 4 hours later because, "Oops, sorry, I got busy and couldn't respond."

As you spend those 4 hours - and don't pretend that you haven't - in a sort of suspended agony desperately needing the answer to those questions.

Also pretending you're nonchalant and really don't care.

HAH! - we all care.

I miss a pause being the length of a freakin pause.

I miss 3 hour conversations with a good friend. When time itself takes a break in the comfort of chatter and laughter. I miss that being an option if you couldn't meet someone face-to-face. People didn't just find the time, they made it. They wanted it and included it in their lives.

What is the norm now? A spattering of random comments that interrupt an evening of other activities.

Doesn't it sometimes feel like someone is hucking paper airplanes at your head while you're trying to get something done?

We're such an attention deficit society. Why don't you drop what you're doing for a minute and fully focus on someone else for a bit? Don't you remember how good it felt?

Ah, yes... as the introverts collectively yell out "But, wait! It's too hard!"

PFAW!!!!!

I am deeply in the introvert spectrum and still, to me that's like saying: I should eat junk food because it's cheaper and it tastes good.

But it isn't freaking good for you.

I know how easy it is to follow the path of least resistance. It's a natural desire but not one that is always correct.

Anyone else notice how depression seems to be a psychological plague of our age? I put it to you, to think about on your own terms.... perhaps... just perhaps.. this really does have something to do with it.....


... why don't you call me and we'll chat about it? mm?

;)

K

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.