Sometime Horror Flicks Keeps a Good CP Chic Down

When I was in college I ran into this lady who carried around a little spider monkey and I absolutely fell in love with it. To add to my passion, she told me that these adorable animals were ideal to be trained as little helpers for people with disabilities. Sure $3000 seemed like a lot of money but have you seen their cute faces? Even after doing all the research, I still couldn’t imagine living my whole life without owning one. Sure they fling poo and wear diapers but if I got a really smart one, Ya know…

I was sold hook, line, and sinker until a dark and stormy night when I was forced to watch the movie “Monkey Shines.” In short, a quadriplegic guy trains monkey, monkey develops feelings of anger towards his owner, and well, it doesn’t have a happy ending. Let’s just say the monkey flings a lot more then poo.  I can’t say I’m over this obsession but the movie definitely lessened my need to push for a new friend.

I now have a new obsession. Ever since I heard about it three months ago, it has been in the back of my mind. Because of my CP I have an extremely sensitive startle reflex. I find it ghastly offensive but my mean friends and my husband find it highly entertaining. Whatever! But because of this, I cannot legally drive a car. Yes I choose my words carefully. I’ve been meaning to try to drive on my folk’s property but now they planted trees everywhere so if I have a tiny opps, it’ll be engrained in the tree forever for all of the family to mock.

But I digress, Google, it seems wants to be my search engine, in more ways than one. They are in the process of manufacturing self-driving cars. It seems more than a pipe dream and the inventers are far enough along that they have applied for a self-driving car license in the great state of Nevada. Not that you can tell but I’m no rocket scientist but the technology involves, radar and gps… maybe a laser or two. But apparently the darn car works and is being tested on the streets of Las Vegas, which seems like an oddly fitting choice for a test city.

About a thousand times more than I wanted a spider monkey, I really want this car. I wish I could say I wanted a driverless-car to be able to go out into the world and do good. Probably not. I just want to meet friends for lunch and contribute to the Starbucks economy.

The car would be exactly like Kit from Knight Rider. We would exchange clever banter and the radio would play our favorite tunes, as we travel safely to our destination. Sigh. It would totally not be like the movie “Christine”… Where the car goes psycho.

Ok, things to do. Stop watching horror flicks, and maybe sign up for the second year’s production of the Google car, instead of the first… yeah…

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Potential Employers Sometimes Forget, But Facebook Always Pulls Me Through

Potential Employers Sometimes Forget, But Facebook Always Pulls Me Through

Since I’m sort of blue today, I thought I’d grant myself a post to bitch about one thing that I hate about being handicapped, as long as I followed it up with something that would make me smile.

I think people in general, like when you meet them at networking things are extra nice to you. and I’m sure at that moment, when I’m shaking their hand or like flashing them (I’m kidding… ok it was that one time on a dare but…) they really do intend to look at my resume or read my book. Yet I always seem to get lost in the shuffle. Like last year I interviewed at this fabulous employment agency specializing in the creative arts. My interviewer loved me. Hello yellow brick road. Or so I thought. I never heard from her again. Sometimes I feel like that character, oh I don’t even recall the book, but the one you only remember when she’s in front of you, then when she leaves, her memory kind of evaporates from yours. So there’s my beef. I don’t think I’m always remembered.

But on rare occasions something totally surprises me. When I first signed on with facebook, I had a mental list of 20 people that I had lost touch with who I desperately wanted to find. Like my speech teacher from 6^th grade. Bobby’s best friends from San Antonio who love me way more than him. One bridesmaid, three producers. And a few others.

I’ve found most of them and so much more. Say what you will about Facebook but it keeps me company as I peck away from my home office. It is my virtual water cooler hang out. Many funny remarks have been shared but also a few very poignant ones too.

As my facebook friends grew, I mentally crossed long lost soul mates off the list. About every three months, without fail, I search for those still MIA. Last night as I bid good night to facebook, I got a friends invitation and I literally yelled “holy crap.” My husband and son were not amused but I certainly was.

The second to the last person on my list found me. She said she had signed up for facebook to find two lost friends, me being one. We were friends for two years before she transferred out of state. I didn’t know if she would even remember me. But apparently she did. And apparently we still have that strong connection because when we asked how each other was, we actually told the truth instead of just your “I’m fantastic” polite to do,

So my conclusion is, maybe only really unimportant people remember me. I’m so in trouble! seriously, her finding me was an amazing gift and reminded me that if I’m worth her time, maybe there is a perfect employer just looking for me. But then again maybe only people remember me for something crazy because I get a lot of “Hey remember when you…” Oops

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Keep Inspiring to Believe in the Beauty of Your Dreams

For the first 40 years of my life I’ve shied away from being labeled inspirational. Something just clicked this morning, if the world would like to worship me, then I should just own up to it and accept my faith. I have decided that as my crown is being designed, I should write my speech to my followers, accepting my inspiring position in life. So here goes.

Friends, countrymen, lend me your ears. Despite my cerebral palsy, I was the only one of my siblings and cousins to graduate from college. Oops, not so true. But wouldn’t that truly be a kick-ass inspirational opening line? Reality is of my 20+ cousins, with a BA in Communications, I am the least educated. I know, tough brilliant crowd. Lawyers, and Doctors and Therapists and Entrepreneurs, I think there’s even a humble Rocket Scientist who has never “labeled” herself. Girl if that was me, I would have “I’m a rocket scientists” tattooed across my chest, in a superhero font. Then there’s me. Yeah. Ok.

I have climb mount Everest. Isn’t that an inspirational touch stone? I have to say that out of all the bucket-lists of things to do to push yourself, to me Climbing a freezing mountain falls in the category of least appealing. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a total sloth. Three years ago, I promised myself that the next full time paycheck I earned, I’d buy myself a 7 speed trike and I would train and finish a marathon. Actually I’m being serious. It’s on my bucket list. But so is a week in Vegas with all my girls and one cabana boy who was schooled in peeling grapes. I’m drifting, oh yes, the trike. My cerebral palsy will let me ride a sturdy trike. Maybe not fastly, or elegantly but it’s do-able. And maybe if I did a marathon or two, it would add to my inspirational creditability.

Three years later the trike thing is still my plan and I’m still waiting on my next full paycheck (same as the one specified above) so nothing has changed, well maybe one tiny thing. It seems that a large number of my friends as well as my underachieving family members have taken up running. So where is the inspiration in being like the 47th person in your social circle to do something, Now, instead of “Holy crap, I never met anyone who has run a marathon, your inspirational,” It’s just “Thanks for joining us.”

Sometimes I feel like my life equals to always getting in the longest line at the DMV. I see the end result, I just never seem to be able to get there first, or in my case, by the time I get to the head of the line, I forgot to get something notarized, so I get sent back to the end. But I guess that’s life. I find most people either force me onto a petal stool, or judge me harshly because they don’t think I’m grateful enough. I’m just somewhere in the middle,

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