Thursday, May 28, 2009

Setting myself off.

Okay...As a general lover of music, I listen to just about anything. The only thing I won't waste my time with is (c)rap. Don't even start arguing with me, because it is often "borrowed" music from others and rhyming to a beat. Anyway, this is an official "Country Music Warning." If you have a hatred of country music, don't watch/listen to this song. But I'd like you to try, because I'm going to do something with the rest of this post...I won't be correcting my errors as I type them, and, with luck, you'll be able to read through what's happening to see how much goes into my posts. Again, this is the point where Backspace, spell checking, and any other editing stops...Unless the spelling is EXTREMELY important for the moment.

Once upo a time, I used to love writing. It was a passion, and I simply couldmn't put a stip to my inagination. The stories just kept coming, and I just kept writing. My typos were common. "The" was often "teh." I even had an all time classic typo. I was working on a fantasy, and I meant to write how one of the main heroine's internal organs felt like they were on fire. Instead, O wroite how it felt like her internal orgasms felt like they were on fire. The friend I replied upon to do my editing had a few questions for me about that one, especially when the story used my real friends.

Then again, I'm a noptoriously bad speller. I went to write how someone could barely accomplish a trask, and instead wrote "barley." His comments in the margin was, "He could 'barley' do it? Wheatever shall we do?" And for a guy who liked to write, it took ages for me to realize "no one" is two words. (Are you starting to see a problem yet?)

An important fact to take note of is that I never had an formal training for typing. I simnpy became a very fast two-finger typist...then four-finger. For a guy without training, my fingers would fly, practically causing the keyboard to smoke when my mind was on fire with a new isdea. Jus a few years ago, when I write my screenplay Spirits, there wwere a day when I cranked out close to 4500 words! There weer FIVE drafts oif that story, all written in a mere 12 days!

That was approximatel foiur years ago. Since then, my diabetic neuropathy has taken a greater toll on my manual dexterity and strength. I started hitting more and more extra keys, or would hit a key without enough pressure for it to register on the keyboard. In a way, I saw this coming. It's one of the reasons I left NY. Winters are longer there, and the cold affects my neuropathy in ways I was noticing with increasing ferquency, The keys to a lock would be in my hand, and I'd be trying to open the door, only to find myself without the strength to turn the lock. In many ways, I'm glad no one was around to see the tears start to flow as I had to use both hands the turn a key. NY winters also had another affect, that being on my ankels. I'd be walking along when one or the other would suddenly give out. For that reason, usually one ankle or the other was wrapped in an ace bandage after I'd sprained it.

Not this past winter, but the one before, I boarded a bus and didn't have a bus pass. So I stood there, rtying to put the change into the coin slot...but th coins kept slipping through my fingers, and I couldn't get my thumb and forefiunger to grab the money. The driver, seeing I was having a problem, soimply told me to take a seat.

My "favoite" moments are when I have to sign something, and I have the pen in myhand...and I can't get my hand to scribble my name. I know I'm not gripping the pen hard enough. My head is sending the command to my hand, and it's simply not happening. That's usually when I give an embarrassed smile at whiomever is waiting for em to sign and say, "Give me a hands aren't listening to me."

Yesterday, while I was talking to my friend Leroy, I explained athat my neuropathy is a desiease of my own design. When I was a teeanager, I was especially stupid when it came to caring for myself. Why? Becaus those things that catch up to other diabetics would never catch me, because as a teenager, I was invulnerable. Diabetes complications are for those who aren't invulnerable teenagers. Here I am, decades later, practically waiting for the day when a doctor tells me my feet will have to come off because they're so defroemed that they can't be repaired.

I'm also breaking the promise I made at the start of this post. I'm so accustomed to hitting Backspave that I've been doing it, and actually going back to put my mistakes back so you can see what my neiuropathy is doing to me.

I also made you watch a video. Well, I tried to make you watch a video; I have no idea if you did or not. The thing is, I had no idea that I'd miss the days when things were merely bad. Now, as some of my days are absolutely terribl;e, I find myself thinkjing back to a timne when things were better than they are now.

The ultimate lessin in humility has ben taking place over the last decade. You see, it was about 10 years ago when I moved to AZ the first time, chasing Robin out here when she left NY. Not long afterward, my father had open heart surgery, and I made it clear to anyone with ears that although the risk was low, I wouldn't let my last words to him be over the phione. Although I'd just started a new job, I told them I needed to go back to NY to spend some time with my Dad. And it was at that time that I vowed to myself to live a life with as few regrets as possible.

It's a noice promise...but it means very little in the face of the fact that "Life is what happens when you're making other plans." A regret-free life is impossible. There will always be those decisions you'll regret, be they the romance you invested five uears in, or something you did when you were much younger. And all of those years I spent in out of the hospital for diabetic ketoacidosis...Well, "stupid is as stupid does." I can't seem to strop myself from looking backward and noicing that I actually miss so much from the past. My friends...various family members...the ability to type with greater accuracy.

Along comes Trace Adkins, who wrote a song about just that. So many people see their lives in the moment, and they dislike so much that they see, never realizing that these may well be the good days.

Okay...This is where I end my experiment. Clicking the spell check and looking over this post, I see a lot of words highlighted, once again bringing the reality of my life into technicolor relief. Between all of those errors and Trace's song...Well, it's more than enough to set me off again. The tears start to roll...

'Cuz you're gonna miss this
You're gonna want this back
You're gonna wish these days
Hadn't gone by so fast
These are some good times
So take a good look around
You may not know it now
But you're gonna miss this...

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