Basically I have things that hurt all the time, even when I take painkillers. I mean seriously I wake up with a pain in the neck, butt, and my feet are touchy and sore. I’m a grouchy old man, because I’m in constant low-grade pain that never quits, and I can’t do the things I want to do if they cost money because I don’t have any disposable income.
Anywho, getting back to the painkillers, I have two (ibuprofen and gabapentin) I take before bed to let me sleep, and another (celebrex) I take when I wake up because I hurt during the day. And I still hurt at night and all day long, just not as much. I just “don’t hurt” enough that I can function most of the time. And I hate it. I hate just being “functional” instead of enjoying life. And I hate just existing instead of doing things I like because “disposable income” is more a concept than a reality in my life because I was killed 20 years ago and never recovered from it.
I’m still thinking about the Sprint-T project because I have to, I have been thinking about it every day for the last decade, and off and on since I saw the movie in 1968, The Lively Set, on NBC’s Saturday Night at the Movies. That’s a long time to be thinking about a project. For years it was a back-burner because I wanted to fly, then because I had a family, then because we became desperately poor because I couldn’t get a job after the wreck.
Basically before the wreck I relied on using my brain to get work, then I had TBI from the wreck and all the stuff I used to do better than anyone else I could barely do at all. I lost all ability to compose search strings that took me to the answer in a database in a single step, which we now call having good “Google-fu”. Basically I had google-fu before google was a thing, and after the drunk with the truck I didn’t have anything. I also used to be able to write and perform poetry to a high level, and now I write… this. I do good “stream of consciousness” writing because I still have that, but planning out a post/article is basically gone. I still can clean up a bad translation like nobody’s business, because I have the train wreck sitting in front of me to work with, and mostly it’s just bad grammar, or confusing word order that means something different than what the client wanted to say because machines don’t do emotional context.
And that’s enough “pitiful me” kvetching. Go find something useful to do that makes beautiful things.
Witch on a Bicycle 