#4 A Guide to Brain Injury

. She is always trying to make me speak Italian, so I told her in Italian to F off, and that her face is ugly. The others at the table can’t understand why she gets so aggressive.

If it weren’t for Ellie and Don, I would be dead. They are the others at the table. They feed me, and fight my battles. She looks after him, and he is quality control. She provides care for his dog, and he walks it. She is very agreeable, while he is very contrary. Everybody wanted them to sit at their table, and I gave them several outs, but they stuck with me. Together their banter is spectacular, and the closest I’m ever going to get to being sexual. I chose well, they are both very loving and I will forever miss them. I won’t miss Giovanna.

I conquered the path, now I do it every day the sun shines, and the sun shines a lot lately. I breathe deeply and think about my future. I’m always glad I did it. I see Jo and Dom, Lan, Bonnie, and that guy every time. One time Bonnie asked me to paint with her, I did, but just once, she is a real painter and I’m just looking for something to do. Poor lady asked again, I said yes, but I didn’t show up. I was going to at the time, but completely forgot about it. We accept things like that about each other. I am going to conquer the boulevard next.

I haven’t conquered it, but I go out in a wheelchair I pedal. I call it a bike. It goes too fast, and it can hurt me, or worse, somebody else. I must learn to control it. It scares the F out me, but if I avoid it, I will miss out on the joy it can provide me. I could only get it in the USA. My kid, who is a rockstar, helped me. She tod me to let my brain perform a miracle, so that’s what I’m doing.

I’m on the Dessert First Diet, and I eat pie or Brownies for breakfast, with whipped cream. Why not. If I run out of room, it will be the actual food I don’t eat. This time, I only ate the dessert, so I guess it’s the Dessert Only Diet. I put on two different socks and didn’t feel away one bit. Yes, I did that. I broke the rules, and that will happen more often.

Why do I always want more than I have. I’ll fix that. Being ambitious is no longer working for me. I’ll fix what I have. I live in a rich environment where I am touched all the time, there are good and bad times, and there are a lot of things to do so I will be like the will be like the lucky rats, and thrive. I used to be strong, but now I’m weak, I used to be in charge of my future, but now I’m afraid of it, I used to be neat but now I’m a mess.

I am messy. Physically, emotionally, mentally, and even spiritually; I am messy. I made a mess of myself last night; I mean emotionally. I was never neat, but I just cleaned it up before anyone else had to. Now I have no privacy. Now I am messy. I expected to live happily ever after, but this is only one leg of the journey. I am on the right road. My chair ran out of juice before the end of the boulevard. What a nuisance. It’s not the hiccup its how you handle it.

I realized that I’m inpatient and always have been, but now people think I should have more, and know my place. I used to just do it myself. I would if I could. Having patience doesn’t do me any good. Squeaky wheel gets the grease.

They aren’t Christians, they are haters. They weaponize Jesus because they are afraid, and projecting it, but if they knew Jesus’ real teachings, they would only love. People’s feelings are really hurt by their hate, and it’s funny how they use someone we love to teach hate. I will love in the face of hate. Life doesn’t go away because I was disabled, it just visits me differently.

One time, I found a place to stand and do my job as a greeter/widow. I didn’t notice the little girl who was standing there beside me when the priest came to ask me for my speech. Carolina was hugging him up, telling him how much he meant to her, and telling me that this was the priest that got her out of her depression. I didn’t care. That was until the little girl asked, in her little girl voice, if , indicating to Carolina, who had walked away, if that was his, indicating to the priest, wife. There was so much wrong with that. I came out of my trance long enough to say, ‘…priests can’t get married because they are married to God so they can’t be devoted to the wife…’ There was a sience. The priest expressed incredulity and I thought that was weird for a priest. I went back to my trance. A week later, I was having coffee with guy that died, like I always do every morning, when I laughed out loud, ‘look at