Perfect Timing…

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Just pass 100 updates, and this comes out: I was published in Outspoken Magazine! Just a brief article which was more of a rant than anything. I will link the original here.

Do I have much else to report? Not really. I still do not have any information about the interview I did the other week. Of course, I am writing this on Wednesday February 8th. I might have more information by now. Unfortunately, if you are reading this paragraph, then I have nothing else to report.

Update before posting: I was informed that it was aired on February 11th at 6pm. I’m trying to get my hands on it, or at least find a way to share it. Did you see it? Please let me know!

100!

Hahaha yeah. I am posting about being at post 100 on post 100. I have never made it to a goal in my life. My book was not even 100 pages long.

I have gotten no feedback on what to do for this occasion.

I was just involved in an interview that, if all goes well, will be accessible by the time this posts. It will, for sure, be on a Rogers channel very soon. As soon as I know when, I will make sure to let you know when and where.

It should involve me reading the beginning of my book (probably too fast) and things like that always make me nervous. I played drums, I wrote a book, and I was never one for speaking: whether public or otherwise.

Regardless of my hang-ups and self-discrimination; I am excited for it to happen and even more so for you all to watch it.

Comedy?

My sense of humour is very dark. I can find something hilarious in literally everything. Someone pointed out how my book was “kind of funny” and I was astounded that it took someone this long to figure out that I found the situation funny.

To be clear: my humour is pointed at myself usually. I will laugh at horrible situations because I find the reaction I would have pathetic and cliché. That is what I find funny, not what someone else went through.

Know what is not funny? Malicious jokes. Unnecessary comments. Bigotry. I find these things and a few others to be the lowest common denominator. Otherwise, I think it is all fair game. This is why I have such a hard time with this “PC” movement. All because you are not saying horrible things does not mean that you aren’t thinking horrible things. When said out loud, they can be corrected. You can only teach those who you know you can teach. Nothing frustrates me more than someone taking a joke out of context, or not realizing it’s a joke (honestly).

The absolute best was I made a slight at myself and my friend exclaimed that I shouldn’t do that. My retort was “you’re right. I might offend someone in a wheelchair.” They deemed that way too offensive, because it meant that, somehow, I was attacking them.

I guess my end point was know your audience. Also, know who you are talking to.

Re-read my blog. Read my book. The entire time, realize I am dictating everything with a huge smile on my face.

Art?

I guess this is more of a “rant” than my usual writings. I found myself pondering why I cannot seem to leave this world of art, whether performance or otherwise.

It is like a parasite. You end up giving everything you have, especially your money, and get beaten down with every step you take. That is a risk you take when you display/perform your art to a public forum.

But why depressed artists?
Of course, I can only answer for myself. I, luckily, find that very simple to answer. Depression really is the best emotion to be in when you delve into emotions and life. Simply because it is introspective. It is humbling. It is stronger than everything you have experienced.

Simply put, it is when the great things happen. I have written everything I have ever been apart of in a less-than-stellar mindset. I do not need mending, I just need to find “that place” to make sure everything comes out in a way that will not make me cringe in a couple of days. It is much easier to look back on something serious and calm as opposed to happy and frantic.

Maybe I’m just doing it wrong?

What about you? Are you an artist? If the answer is yes, than what mindset do you find it easier to create things in? Am I totally out to lunch?

Book “Leak”
Important Read.

So Close…

If, by some strange chance, you have counted all my post, you are insane! Also, you would have noticed that this is post 97. I want to have something exciting for 100, but I do not have any ideas yet. Anyone think of anything? Leave me a comment below or get a hold of me on FaceBook. I mean, we are still three weeks off. However, it is never too soon to plan thing!

So, what do I have lined up today? Well, I was on a friends podcast the other day. Number 159, and I am part of the worst one I have listened to thus far (and I think it went very well).

I ranted and raved about the stuff covered in my book. This fact should not be a shock to anyone. I also spoke briefly about what music means to me and how much it means. Plus, I got to rant and rave about things I feel passionate about. Let me know what you think!

Other than that, I have just been hanging out with my two dogs and my cat whilst doing housekeeping things. I lead a very uninteresting life right now. I have started a couple first chapters of book ideas. Nothing is really sticking

Jokes, Humour, and Pain

Interesting thing I have run into: all because I am in a wheelchair, I must know Jim who is ALSO in a wheelchair!

NO!

Well, yes, I do know Jim.

That information does not negate the fact that all because I have an association with that Jim that I will with every Jim.

Yes: people put into wheelchairs instead of being born into needing one seem to have a sick fascination with war stories. Maybe it is a kind of therapy? Maybe the only source of pride? I do not know what the reason is, but holy FUCK: I am very guilty of that.

I know that, from where I was, it was a way to make sure everyone knew there was something different about me but I am still me. When dealing with other people in wheelchairs, it was a new audience: someone I could express anger, disappointment and hate towards able-bodied-people and they would get it.

No one realizes just how different the world is when you are viewing it from a chair. People speak to you as if you are made of glass. Even sharing a just-off-opinion is followed by the people around you asking a million times if it is okay to think that way.

It is a bit of a joke in its naïveté. The best part, for me, is saying something horribly offensive towards people in wheelchairs and then watching everyone cringe.

There is a difference between saying something out of ignorance or jest and saying something out of malice. Someone making an off colour joke hoping you will appreciate there stance?  Fine.

Saying something expecting or demanding recognition? Not fine. It does not matter if you are a friend. If you are saying something with even a hint of aggression, it is not fine. If you are saying something definitive but it is wrong, it is not fine. If you are attacking someone, it is not fine.

The rules around humour and jest are the same with someone in a wheelchair as they are with someone not. If they seem fine with it, joke on. If they get uncomfortable, stop. It’s simple! I promise.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have to continue hiding the bodies.

Hello 2017.

I hope you had a fantastic holiday season! I had a very busy first holiday living on my own.We had my parents over for Christmas Eve, then went to Hamilton for Christmas Day. New Years was just home-time spending time with the boys and eat all the food.

To reiterate: ALL THE FOOD!

I digress. It was a fantastic and much needed break. I have spent a lot of time organizing thoughts for my next book. I hope to have something substantial in the coming months.

BLOG #2

It was my birthday on the 12th! Thank you for the well wishes and happy regards. I was unable to write a post because of the distraction, however. I think I will just use the time slot to advertise and whore myself out a bit!

I do have a book out. It is not available at stores as of right now. The cost is way too high for me right now. With that said, it is available online! I have listed all the stores here. That is also the main website and I put some book-related blogs on there. I am currently writing another book. I cannot, however, decide between a fiction on isolation or another recap this time on the ten years I spent in the music industry. The music one is started, but not expanded. The isolation idea is just that, but I cannot stop being excited about the prospect.

The other idea I have had is to start a general blog showcasing books and things of that nature. That will not be a thing for AT LEAST another year, but does anyone have any thoughts or feels on that idea?

RAMBLES!

I am sorry. I will try to have something with greater purpose next week.

What Happens When I Fall?

That is a question that I have not had to find an answer to until this week. In the last 12 hours, I have fallen twice while trying to get to the bathroom. I take care of it myself, but it is awkward and silly.

I am not quite sure what happened the first time: I was up and then I was down. What happened was that I hyperextended my knee and my ankle on my left foot and was left with a couple of nice bruises.

The second time, however: I was aware all the way down.

What seemed to happen was that my left foot (the one I hyperextended) tried to step. The pain was too great, and my right buckled in sympathy. The result was me sitting on the ground for a few minuets while I tried to catch my breath.

While sitting down, I was given enough time to reflect on what is going on. What did I learn? This sucks. Being in the chair sucks. Not having legs that will carry my weight sucks. Not being able to be the great man my fiancee wants me to be sucks.

Life Sucks.

Then, I remembered that three years ago at this time, they were prepping to pull a plug on me. They were telling my friends and family to say there goodbyes because the machines would not be keeping me alive anymore. There was a doctor who told my mom and dad that, if they kept me alive any longer, I might wake up but there was such a great chance that I would be brain dead that it was not worth it.

Three years ago this week, I was deemed dead. It was decided that there was no chance in me living a normal life, and definatly no chance in me being happy.

So: what happened?

The plug was pulled, I survived. I wrote a book, got engaged, and moved into an apartment. The last twenty-four hours included, I have fallen a total of five times. Not once have I severely hurt myself or anyone else around me.

In fact, one of the four was one of the funniest things! I pulled a wheeley in my chair and, stupidly, forgot my laptop was on the back. The increased weight carried the force backwards, and I was not able to right myself. What happened was that I landed on my back, laptop dented, and ego severely bruised. My roommate was there and, luckily, was able to put the chair behind me while I lifted myself to a standing position using a walker.

The last two times, I was in a very small room. The walls are such that, with me on the ground, there is no way to fit another person in there My fiancee was asleep the second time, and at work the first, so I was pretty much alone to cope with the situation at hand.

I did not have a point to much in writing this: I more just have my twenty-seventh birthday Saturday, and nothing to write about. I hope you found this entertaining, if not enlightening. I will write a less blog-like update in my next post.