(no subject)
So, I updated to let everyone know I almost died, then I updated to let everyone know I didn't, and then I curled up like the major arcana hermit crab and spoke to no one. Well, exceptions: Z and Bellzy. Even then.
GOOD NEWS: the double vision is mostly gone, my hearing is totally back, and I'm jogging OUTSIDE and wearing whatever fucking shoes I want, motherfuckers. I've been discharged from OT (occupational therapy) and PT (physical therapy). While my gross movement recovery isn't entirely complete--there's still a certain stiffness; I don't have my hippy hippy hip hip HIP walk back--it's...I mean, I'm jogging. Three months after double stroke and neurosurgery. That is amazing. I'm going back to school for winter semester, much sooner than expected. I can write and paint and draw like before. I can jump in a circle and not get any air but still do a 360 turn.
OTHER NEWS: Two months of not being able to walk translates into gaining fifteen pounds. One eye still sewn half shut and in constant danger of drying out. Still can't blink that eye because HALF MY FACE IS STILL FUCKED. One side of body still not doing temperature and fine sensation.
Deep breaths.
So, everyone: yes, I've been ignoring you. I'm not ignoring you because I don't love you; I'm ignoring you because I am holed up in my castle feeling utterly hideous and therefore completely undeserving of love.
I use this phrasing with a straight face (like I have a choice! har!) and an even tone, so people assume I'm being flippant and employing the technique known as hyperbole, but I AM NOT. Most days I'm fine; some days I'm so cheerful it would make you sick; and some days I cry each time I walk by a reflective surface.
That said, I am in the process of saving my life with MyChem and Batman. WHAT WOULD BATMAN DO? Batman would train harder, so get your ass out there and JOG.
Need a soundtrack to rev you up before you go? Blast DESTROYA, or maybe Planetary (GO!) or fucking Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na.
The new album is a set back lyrically, but the visuals are fucking amazing and the sound kicks some serious ass. It's a BIG album--it sounds like absolute shit on your tinny ipod headphones or your glorified e mail checker machine laptop, but put it on some serious speakers and it is fucking TASTY. They set out to make a punkier album, and they did.
ALSO GRANT MORRISON PLAYS THE BAD GUY IN THE MUSIC VIDEOS. GRANT MORRISON. And in the video for SING he kills the shit out of Gerard/Party Poison.
I needed--I absolutely needed the comfort of The Black Parade while I was in the hospital. And I know there are some MyChem haters on here who used to love to give me shit about how I had otherwise "good" or hardcore musical taste, and, yeah, the first album I ever bought was an Iron Maiden one. But did Iron Maiden ever give me an album about dying in a hospital bed? NO. And you know who did? My Chemical fucking Romance. Gerard sings it's a lie when they smile and say you won't feel a thing, and it's TRUE, and so fucking what if he hasn't almost died in a hospital himself? He acknowledges that this HAPPENS, that this is part of the human fucking experience. And it's okay. Did your shitty fucking metal band ever write about shit beyond how hard they rock, blood sex, and a few trite mythology references I would have gotten by the time I was six years old? Not bloody likely. I'm ranting against ONE PERSON here, and I'm sorry, but I am so fucking tired of going "THIS HAS MEANING TO ME PERSONALLY," and getting "HAHA LAAAAME."
And NOW, now, when I am in RECOVERY and I have my teeth bared and it's time to fucking live, they gave me a fast paced color explosion that celebrates freedom and defiance. I am going to be so seriously offended if the response I get to baring my heart about this is "LAWL HAHA FUK YOU EMO BAND LOSERS." I think we might not be friends anymore if you do that.
Favorite band. That's what's what. Fucking Gerard Way, thank you for existing and making music.
Love the new album, love. HAVE CONCERT TICKETS FOR MAY.
CANNOT FUCKING WAAAAIT FOR THIS SHIT.
Anyway, that's my life. That and lots of discussion about WikiLeaks and Julian Assange. And BATMAN. SO MUCH BATMAN. Fucking LOVE you, Bats.
Where was I?
I also broke my phone for a while so I truly was isolated, but now it's working again, so yaaay.
Keep on fucking kicking, everyone. I love you all, and every well wish I've gotten warms my heart. I'm still fighting, and I know you guys are, too, in your lives. And I know I do everyone who has ever loved me a disservice by acting like the only thing anyone cared about was my face, and I'm sorry.
It's almost my 24th birthday.
I finalized what and where I want my tattoo to be.
Fight on, sweethearts, fight on.
GOOD NEWS: the double vision is mostly gone, my hearing is totally back, and I'm jogging OUTSIDE and wearing whatever fucking shoes I want, motherfuckers. I've been discharged from OT (occupational therapy) and PT (physical therapy). While my gross movement recovery isn't entirely complete--there's still a certain stiffness; I don't have my hippy hippy hip hip HIP walk back--it's...I mean, I'm jogging. Three months after double stroke and neurosurgery. That is amazing. I'm going back to school for winter semester, much sooner than expected. I can write and paint and draw like before. I can jump in a circle and not get any air but still do a 360 turn.
OTHER NEWS: Two months of not being able to walk translates into gaining fifteen pounds. One eye still sewn half shut and in constant danger of drying out. Still can't blink that eye because HALF MY FACE IS STILL FUCKED. One side of body still not doing temperature and fine sensation.
Deep breaths.
So, everyone: yes, I've been ignoring you. I'm not ignoring you because I don't love you; I'm ignoring you because I am holed up in my castle feeling utterly hideous and therefore completely undeserving of love.
I use this phrasing with a straight face (like I have a choice! har!) and an even tone, so people assume I'm being flippant and employing the technique known as hyperbole, but I AM NOT. Most days I'm fine; some days I'm so cheerful it would make you sick; and some days I cry each time I walk by a reflective surface.
That said, I am in the process of saving my life with MyChem and Batman. WHAT WOULD BATMAN DO? Batman would train harder, so get your ass out there and JOG.
Need a soundtrack to rev you up before you go? Blast DESTROYA, or maybe Planetary (GO!) or fucking Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na.
The new album is a set back lyrically, but the visuals are fucking amazing and the sound kicks some serious ass. It's a BIG album--it sounds like absolute shit on your tinny ipod headphones or your glorified e mail checker machine laptop, but put it on some serious speakers and it is fucking TASTY. They set out to make a punkier album, and they did.
ALSO GRANT MORRISON PLAYS THE BAD GUY IN THE MUSIC VIDEOS. GRANT MORRISON. And in the video for SING he kills the shit out of Gerard/Party Poison.
I needed--I absolutely needed the comfort of The Black Parade while I was in the hospital. And I know there are some MyChem haters on here who used to love to give me shit about how I had otherwise "good" or hardcore musical taste, and, yeah, the first album I ever bought was an Iron Maiden one. But did Iron Maiden ever give me an album about dying in a hospital bed? NO. And you know who did? My Chemical fucking Romance. Gerard sings it's a lie when they smile and say you won't feel a thing, and it's TRUE, and so fucking what if he hasn't almost died in a hospital himself? He acknowledges that this HAPPENS, that this is part of the human fucking experience. And it's okay. Did your shitty fucking metal band ever write about shit beyond how hard they rock, blood sex, and a few trite mythology references I would have gotten by the time I was six years old? Not bloody likely. I'm ranting against ONE PERSON here, and I'm sorry, but I am so fucking tired of going "THIS HAS MEANING TO ME PERSONALLY," and getting "HAHA LAAAAME."
And NOW, now, when I am in RECOVERY and I have my teeth bared and it's time to fucking live, they gave me a fast paced color explosion that celebrates freedom and defiance. I am going to be so seriously offended if the response I get to baring my heart about this is "LAWL HAHA FUK YOU EMO BAND LOSERS." I think we might not be friends anymore if you do that.
Favorite band. That's what's what. Fucking Gerard Way, thank you for existing and making music.
Love the new album, love. HAVE CONCERT TICKETS FOR MAY.
CANNOT FUCKING WAAAAIT FOR THIS SHIT.
Anyway, that's my life. That and lots of discussion about WikiLeaks and Julian Assange. And BATMAN. SO MUCH BATMAN. Fucking LOVE you, Bats.
Where was I?
I also broke my phone for a while so I truly was isolated, but now it's working again, so yaaay.
Keep on fucking kicking, everyone. I love you all, and every well wish I've gotten warms my heart. I'm still fighting, and I know you guys are, too, in your lives. And I know I do everyone who has ever loved me a disservice by acting like the only thing anyone cared about was my face, and I'm sorry.
It's almost my 24th birthday.
I finalized what and where I want my tattoo to be.
Fight on, sweethearts, fight on.