NOTE: Lots of faggot shit up here at the top. Feel free to scroll down to the pics.
The week I hit 1,000 posts here I had a TIA or "mini-stroke." Blood pressure can cause them, but I have an excellent bp history and am in pretty good shape. They can also be precursors to "maxi-stroke" or "lol ur dead" and the first week after a TIA one is supposed to check blood pressure and other stuff, as the statistical chance for a follow-up incident steadily diminishes to zero.
I have all kinds of shit on my medical record that has words like "permanent" and "impossible" and "best result" next to it. I've been in a few car and motorcycle accidents, numerous fights, have jumped out of planes and off of cliffs, and have never before found anything that filled me with a sense of my own impending demise quite like not being able to type and my left leg and arm going numb. I was typing an e-mail to my mother when it happened, and it goes something like: "will stop by while you're in Atlanta and feed the cats; no problem -- do you need me to pppppppq;aof amnfpepapappvprpe" Saved for posterity, for some weird reason.
Over the course of that week, I had this weird, vague sense of "something is wrong with me" which was very freaky. On the eighth day, my BP registered 121 over 86, with a relaxed heart rate of 59, and I was relieved beyond description.
The phrase carpe diem is pretty much known by everyone. "Seize the day." I won't wax poetic about it here, as I am hardly qualified to do so, and such a trite expression on my part might well lead me to viciously punch myself in the cock. But I would add to it another, less-known Latin phrase: Memento mori. "Remember you will die." Carpe diem isn't just a nauseating cliché howled by college students, marching in lockstep with other more or less identical make-believe grown ups as they drink themselves into oblivion in Cancun. It's something you have to do. Not because it's cool or because it will get your blog a bunch of traffic, but because one day in the shockingly near future you will be fucking dead.
Put succinctly: If you're going to bother to live, live well. Don't put stuff off. Go there. Call her. Come out of the closet. Whatever. Live well, because you're only going to do it once and for the most part it will matter to no one but you.
OK, so here's some tits. Thanks for making the last three years and change of my life more interesting and profitable, WickedFire.
The week I hit 1,000 posts here I had a TIA or "mini-stroke." Blood pressure can cause them, but I have an excellent bp history and am in pretty good shape. They can also be precursors to "maxi-stroke" or "lol ur dead" and the first week after a TIA one is supposed to check blood pressure and other stuff, as the statistical chance for a follow-up incident steadily diminishes to zero.
I have all kinds of shit on my medical record that has words like "permanent" and "impossible" and "best result" next to it. I've been in a few car and motorcycle accidents, numerous fights, have jumped out of planes and off of cliffs, and have never before found anything that filled me with a sense of my own impending demise quite like not being able to type and my left leg and arm going numb. I was typing an e-mail to my mother when it happened, and it goes something like: "will stop by while you're in Atlanta and feed the cats; no problem -- do you need me to pppppppq;aof amnfpepapappvprpe" Saved for posterity, for some weird reason.
Over the course of that week, I had this weird, vague sense of "something is wrong with me" which was very freaky. On the eighth day, my BP registered 121 over 86, with a relaxed heart rate of 59, and I was relieved beyond description.
The phrase carpe diem is pretty much known by everyone. "Seize the day." I won't wax poetic about it here, as I am hardly qualified to do so, and such a trite expression on my part might well lead me to viciously punch myself in the cock. But I would add to it another, less-known Latin phrase: Memento mori. "Remember you will die." Carpe diem isn't just a nauseating cliché howled by college students, marching in lockstep with other more or less identical make-believe grown ups as they drink themselves into oblivion in Cancun. It's something you have to do. Not because it's cool or because it will get your blog a bunch of traffic, but because one day in the shockingly near future you will be fucking dead.
Put succinctly: If you're going to bother to live, live well. Don't put stuff off. Go there. Call her. Come out of the closet. Whatever. Live well, because you're only going to do it once and for the most part it will matter to no one but you.
OK, so here's some tits. Thanks for making the last three years and change of my life more interesting and profitable, WickedFire.
