An Irritated Observation

I want a drink tonight, but I can't have one.

I'm pissed. I'm allowed it, right? After all, it's not the little things. It's broader than that. It's the view from where I am now over SEVEN years after my accident. It's the wasteland around. The past seven years since I had my fall, far from being this grand and heroic road to recovery, have been filled with bumps and falls the like of which I could never have imagined as a kid. And naively every time I fall I think, "That's it. I'll be good from here on out. How can it get worse?"

I had the accident in 2003 (oh, the power of forgiveness, Duncan), then nearly died from pneumonia that fall; had brain surgery in 2005; and this year I recently had what I found out might have been the closest to death I've ever been: another bout of pneumonia that kept me in l'hopital for three weeks - 1 1/2 of those oblivious to the world. (I plan to tell you all about it one day when I sort it out with myself, but what happened to me in the hospital last month tested me and has made me lean slightly more toward atheism than I ever throught I would...)

I'm not feeling sorry for myself. I'm PISSED. SEVEN fucking years and I - a lad of a mere 35 years - have come close to dying FOUR times! Over achievement? It would certainly fit my personality if it were so. But, no, I'll just say it's excessive.

The more I think about it, the angrier I get. I could go the Oprah route and say there's something life is trying to tell me that I'm just not getting. God tells us things in his own special way and we have to decipher his God-code. Well, if that's the case, when I do die I'm going straight to god's office and kicking him in the balls, because that's a mean, jerky thing for god to do to beings made from such fragile material as flesh and bone.

I know. I rarely show anger on this blog. I rarely show any true emotion. But there have been so many things recently - not only what's happened to me, but the world at war-mongering, homophobic large - that I feel like I'll burst into flame if I don't peep every now and then.

And I want a drink tonight. The first night in a very long time I actually want to drink. But I can't because I'm still recovering. GODDAMMIT!

But, hey, I'm still here. And if nothing else, I've got PASSION.