Ahhh, back home in good ole Conway ... looking forward to going out Saturday with some SG friends ...
As much as I like Portland, I do think it may be a bit before I move ... I have to make sure it's for the right reasons, and not because it's easier for me not to dwell on negative things there. I mean, when I'm there, I'm not surrounded by memories. I'm surrounded by the potential to make new memories (and none of the old ones will necessarily die unhappy, ugly deaths).
As unhappy as I've been off and on for the past few months, I don't think I can really complain all that much ... I mean, first, I'm not dead ... second, I generally have my health ... I get lonley every now and again, but over all I'm okay ... I think ... unfortunately I'm painfully aware that denial is not just a river in Egypt ... but I am usually painfully unaware when I'm in denial (kinda by definition though, ain't it?) ... and thirdly (thought was I done with the list, but wasn't), I have friends ... really good friends. It helps.
Not entirely sure where this journal entry is going ... I've not slept much the past few days (I'll be damned if I sit in that hotel room more than I have to), so I'm rather tired and mostly incoherent.
I've been in a bit of a funk the past week for some strange reason.
I realized that I have been afraid of a lot of things over the past 10 years that didn't warrant my fear. A lot of wasted energy. Some of you know, most of you probably don't, that 10 years ago, I almost died. I was broadsided by a drunk driver, and the accident caved in my skull and broke my clavicle. I was rushed to Conway Regional where they quickly determined they had not the facilities to care for my injuries, at which point they rushed me to LR (by all reports, we made it in under 15 minutes). They quickly x-rayed me and determined a large portion of my skull had been fragmented. I have EXTREMELY vague recollection of a doctor asking for my permission to operate, and him going through the spiel about what could happen if they do, and what would happen if they didn't. I think some point after grabbing the doctor's nose (don't ask ... or do, it's kinda funny) I agreed to let him operate. He was the best in the country, and apparantly was vid conferenced with the 2nd best (so I was told later). They managed to piece my skull back together and re-inforced it with a titanium mesh (it's still in there). They shaved off half my hair
They apparantly couldn't shave off the entire thing because some religions believe that to cut your hair is to lose part of yourself and thus part of your soul. They gave me my hair in a bag in case I wanted to bury it. I don't *think* there are any pics left from that time. God I hope there aren't anyway.
The whole point of that is that I was given a second chance ... and for a large part of the 10 years since, I squandered it. I didn't want to "waste" the chance, so I wrapped myself in a protective coccoon and kept myself away from anything that might be too dangerous. In doing so, I killed myself in a way. I never really got up off that operating table. A little while ago, my mom asked me "What happened to you? You never used to take shit from anyone." For my mom to say "shit" is a big deal, and it quickly caught me off guard. But she was right. *sigh*
Guess the moral of this is, we don't have to wait for a 'second chance' ... what's wrong with making the most of the first one? It's taken me 10 years to get here ... I think I took the scenic route ... I'm hoping to learn from mistakes gone by (some lessons are slow in coming), and try to actually live.
Oh, and for the record, the doctor did tell me that while he was in there, he did, indeed, see a brain, and it did take up the space available to it ... mostly.
Think I'm done with this long, rambling message ... I think it helped. I hope it did, anyway.
<Update>
Damn ... just woke up from a really long and much needed nap and re-read this ... I'm a long winded cuss, ain't i?
</Update>
As much as I like Portland, I do think it may be a bit before I move ... I have to make sure it's for the right reasons, and not because it's easier for me not to dwell on negative things there. I mean, when I'm there, I'm not surrounded by memories. I'm surrounded by the potential to make new memories (and none of the old ones will necessarily die unhappy, ugly deaths).
As unhappy as I've been off and on for the past few months, I don't think I can really complain all that much ... I mean, first, I'm not dead ... second, I generally have my health ... I get lonley every now and again, but over all I'm okay ... I think ... unfortunately I'm painfully aware that denial is not just a river in Egypt ... but I am usually painfully unaware when I'm in denial (kinda by definition though, ain't it?) ... and thirdly (thought was I done with the list, but wasn't), I have friends ... really good friends. It helps.
Not entirely sure where this journal entry is going ... I've not slept much the past few days (I'll be damned if I sit in that hotel room more than I have to), so I'm rather tired and mostly incoherent.
I've been in a bit of a funk the past week for some strange reason.
I realized that I have been afraid of a lot of things over the past 10 years that didn't warrant my fear. A lot of wasted energy. Some of you know, most of you probably don't, that 10 years ago, I almost died. I was broadsided by a drunk driver, and the accident caved in my skull and broke my clavicle. I was rushed to Conway Regional where they quickly determined they had not the facilities to care for my injuries, at which point they rushed me to LR (by all reports, we made it in under 15 minutes). They quickly x-rayed me and determined a large portion of my skull had been fragmented. I have EXTREMELY vague recollection of a doctor asking for my permission to operate, and him going through the spiel about what could happen if they do, and what would happen if they didn't. I think some point after grabbing the doctor's nose (don't ask ... or do, it's kinda funny) I agreed to let him operate. He was the best in the country, and apparantly was vid conferenced with the 2nd best (so I was told later). They managed to piece my skull back together and re-inforced it with a titanium mesh (it's still in there). They shaved off half my hair
They apparantly couldn't shave off the entire thing because some religions believe that to cut your hair is to lose part of yourself and thus part of your soul. They gave me my hair in a bag in case I wanted to bury it. I don't *think* there are any pics left from that time. God I hope there aren't anyway.
The whole point of that is that I was given a second chance ... and for a large part of the 10 years since, I squandered it. I didn't want to "waste" the chance, so I wrapped myself in a protective coccoon and kept myself away from anything that might be too dangerous. In doing so, I killed myself in a way. I never really got up off that operating table. A little while ago, my mom asked me "What happened to you? You never used to take shit from anyone." For my mom to say "shit" is a big deal, and it quickly caught me off guard. But she was right. *sigh*
Guess the moral of this is, we don't have to wait for a 'second chance' ... what's wrong with making the most of the first one? It's taken me 10 years to get here ... I think I took the scenic route ... I'm hoping to learn from mistakes gone by (some lessons are slow in coming), and try to actually live.
Oh, and for the record, the doctor did tell me that while he was in there, he did, indeed, see a brain, and it did take up the space available to it ... mostly.
Think I'm done with this long, rambling message ... I think it helped. I hope it did, anyway.
<Update>
Damn ... just woke up from a really long and much needed nap and re-read this ... I'm a long winded cuss, ain't i?
</Update>
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You deserve to be happy, don't you think?
sunny weather
being happy with what you do
hugs from friends
mail from friends
chocolate cake
fun shoujo-anime
dancing
listening to silly music