Sometimes, being in a wheelchair is funny.
Not the actual being disabled part, though that presents its own set of hilarious circumstances which make people uncomfortable and a little squeamish when I describe them.
Many people err on the side of caution when they interact with me for the first time, afraid they are going to say something to which I will take grievous offense and for which I will label then as ignorant and intolerant.
Personally, the clichéd “walk on eggshells” approach annoys me. It’s insulting and patronizing. It’s also incredibly boring.
What I enjoy much more is when…
I heard a quote a few years ago which went something along the lines of, “If you don’t take the time to care for your health, you’ll be forced to take time to care for your illness.”
I wish I could remember who said that…because they’re right.
I haven’t taken a substantial break since Christmas.
Between working, coaching, establishing and sticking to a new diet and exercise program, battling sleep apnea/poor sleep quality/not getting enough sleep, and spending most of my free time trying to make it as a full-time writer, I’ve been going non-stop for nine months.
My local school district has shown time and again that they don’t give a shit about teachers.
Many administrators side with students against teachers when we try to enforce the rules they claim to care so much about. More often than not, when addressing disciplinary matters, principals simply turn a blind eye or refuse to administer any consequences.
I once sent a kid to the office for picking up his chair and swinging it like a baseball bat at another student. …
Eat right. Exercise. Don’t drink or smoke. Get enough sleep.
These are the things we’re all supposed to do to be healthy and fit. These are the things every healthcare professional says we need to do in order to slow the aging process, increase our energy levels, and, in general, be happy.
These are the things I’ve been doing for over two months now in my most earnest attempt to lose weight, be healthy, and not be dead-ass tired all the time.
…and I feel like shit run over twice.
I don’t know why.
I’m past the point of feeling…
But seriously, does anyone actually like the flavor of pumpkin spice?
It’s the Purgatory of flavors: it isn’t terrible, but it isn’t great, either.
To me, it just tastes like warm milk with sugar and cinnamon. I can make that at home for about 14 cents.
Yet, Starbucks and other coffee houses and cafes charge $5, $6, even $7 for a pumpkin spice latte.
And people pay it. Happily! Like they’re not getting grifted for an extra buck-fifty a cup for some extra cinnamon and sugared-up pumpkin-flavored-food-product.
Is it possible that we’ve collectively fallen for an incredibly effective marketing campaign…
Sadly, my grandpa passed away last week.
The news wasn’t much of a surprise, as he was 85-years-old and had been in congestive heart failure for the week prior.
Even so, his death hit my family hard. You’d be hard-pressed to find a more loved father, brother, uncle, and grandfather. Moreover, it would be difficult to find a man who loved his family more than he did.
I know we all eventually lose people we love. This is an inextricable part of the human experience. And we all process it differently.
So I hope you’ll indulge me as I remember…
To be fair, they kind of deserved it.
It was a result of their selfishness, entitlement, and lack of basic human consideration.
That, and the handicapped parking in most of the garages at the University of Arizona being on the second and third levels.
But it was mostly the result of my being extremely sleep deprived.
The catalyst for my ruining these people’s days was, as I was approaching finals week, I flubbed the due-dates for my last round of essays.
I swear, the real point of higher education is to teach you how to work despite being dead-ass tired.
Kids make mistakes.
It’s a part of growing up. It’s how we learn and grow. It’s part of what shapes us into the adults we become.
We don’t set out to fuck things up. We just do, because at the time, either we weren’t thinking or we didn’t know better.
Though that seems a flimsy excuse.
What am I taking my sweet time getting to because I’m embarrassed to actually get to it?
I grew up with an elementary school behind my house. It wasn’t the school I attended, as my parents insisted on putting me in Catholic school from…
Do you hear that? That low, sad groaning accompanied by what sounds like a million raccoons rummaging through a million dumpsters?
That’s the sound of 130 Million OnlyFans subscribers cancelling their subscriptions at once.
If you’re unfamiliar with the internet site OnlyFans, it’s a subscription-based service in which various content creators can post their digital wares behind a paywall, and only their fans (see what they did there?) can access the premium content of the creators to whom they subscribe.
There are similar subscription-based platforms for premium content of various kinds, such as Medium and Patreon.
Only, no one is…
“If you loved me, you’d kill me.”
I said this to my mom after I’d been home from the rehab hospital for about two months.
Two things occurred to me after these words left my mouth.
The first was, it was the worst possible thing I could have said to the person who loves me most in this world.
The second was, I was alarmed at how much I’d meant it.
On July 2nd, 2005, I broke my neck.
I dove into the shallow end of my apartment complex’s swimming pool, smashing my head on the bottom and shattering my…