I’ve allowed my life to become unremarkable.
*insert cricket sounds, as most of my 4.78 readers think, “I never really thought of his life as ‘remarkable,’ so really, nothing lost there…*
And yet, my peeps, there was a time when I thought my life was indeed remarkable. When the potential seemed endless, the possibilities boundless, and the future was so bright, I had to wear…
It was remarkable. And I allowed it to slip away.
“Oh great – it’s going to be another one of those ‘I’m so sad, I’ve let everything slip away, oh poor sad miserable me’ posts. Lovely. Time to click over to some puppy videos…”
Hang with me, puppy peeps…
This isn’t a “I’m so sad, so miserable, so wretched” post, but rather a “Hey – wait one crab kickin’ minute! What happened? The awesome was right here just a little while ago – where the heck did it go? I’m gonna saddle up, ride that awesomeness down, hogtie it and drag its sorry hiney back here, dadgumit!” post.
Now you’re excited, aren’t you?
So, a little background comin’ at ya, to help y’all understand why I suddenly seem to be waking up from a deep, awesome-free slumber.
I owe it all to The Animal.
As usual here on this little collection of fluffy goodness known as The Whistler’s Wonderings, I make up fanciful names to refer to real honest-to-goodness folks roaming around in my odd existence. Probably not necessary – since I have 4.78 readers, I’m pretty aware of who they all are, and that none of them are members of the Creepy Stalker or Those Who Know Them club, so anybody I mention on this thing has little to worry about from paparazzi or other lower life forms…
Except for spiders. And you’re on your own with them, my peeps. *shudder*
Anyway, I change the names just on the odd chance that a member of the CSoTWKT club does sneak into our merry readership, and then engage in the aformentioned-but-not-really-mentioned stalking thing.
Where was I?
Oh, right – The Animal, who has a remarkable life. How do I know that?
Just kidding. Really. No need for any sort of legal action or anything. Nope. Nothing creepy here.
Anyway, The Animal is a friend of mine, and looking through their images/videos/media on *insert name of social media site* is like watching a National Geographic documentary on high speed in your own personal IMAX theater with the volume on “11.”
Wow. The Remarkable hath been brung.
Not to reveal details, but the list of images/video/media may or may not include: Dogs, water, a chrome gazing ball, snow, horses, bonfires, smiling personbeings, Smurfs, fish, selfies, tans, inspirational scenery, twins, whooping bottom and taking names, pineapples, shellfish, trees, Oompa Loompas, things being eaten, babies, cardboard, distant places, more selfies, outrageous stunts, random personbeings, energy drinks, cans of *processed meat product*, strange facial expressions, more fish, and a guy named Lars.
Note: that list began with the phrase “may or may not.” Take that to heart, my peeps.
“Wow,” sayeth I once again. Strong in the awesome is The Animal.
Now, exposure to that kind of remarkable can propel a personbeing in one of two directions:
1) Absolute despair at the mundane, useless level of your existence.
2) Absolute indignation at the amount of awesome sauce you’ve allowed to get flushed down the biffy of your existence.
Or, put another way, you either get depressed or fierce.
I’ve tried depressed – it rots.
So I think I’ll take fierce for a spin, and see how it rides.
When I was in the first year after my surgery, when the weight was dropping off at the rate of around 6-8 pounds a week and I was seeing the light outside of my prison cell for the first time in my life, I decided to pursue some things that could be called “remarkable.”
– Traveling Route 66
– Riding the lakeshore trail in Chicago, or at least the trail that crosses the drawbridge in Grand Haven
– Playing mini golf
– Taking Tai Chi classes, and becoming a “practicer” of Tai Chi, doing it long enough and well enough that I could justify someday owning an “official” Tai Chi outfit – probably in silky blue
– Riding long distances on my trike, perhaps even doing a half century or (*gasp*) a full century, getting fit and fast enough to justify getting a fast road trike, to really haul tushy down the trail
– Walking around the Museum of Science and Industry under my own power, instead of in a wheelchair
– …Or the Shedd Aquarium
– …Or the Field Museum
– …Or just about anyplace else in Chi-Town
– Going to Disney World / EPCOT / whatever-else-the-heck-they-got-going-on-down-there
– Walking around Festival in Grand Rapids… haven’t been back since June 2010, when I still had to use the wheelchair. After that day, it went down into the basement and hasn’t been out since.
– Taking walks, playing outside, and just generally doing adventurous stuff with my Beloved
– … And with my dog
– … And with both random and not-so-random personbeings all over the place
– Working out, maybe lifting some weights, and getting fit… a little… sort of… at least, as fit as a saggy 50-something can achieve without extensive plastic surgery…
– Snowshoes, and the legs to use them
– Doing the DalMac bike ride, from Lansing to Mackinaw City, including riding across the Mighty Mac!
The list goes on, but note – thats a decent amount of remarkable right there, dagnabit. And honestly, if you look through my images/videos/media on *insert name of social media site*, you definitely will see a little of the remarkable.
Really, if you look at my “Before March 30, 2010” pictures and my “After March 30, 2010” pictures, there is an abundance of remarkable.
It’s not enough. Not nearly enough.
I’ve allowed a couple of years of “remarkable” to turn into “unremarkable,” and slide toward “pretty mundane,” landing squarely in the land of “meh.”
As I said, I’m going for “fierce” this time around, instead of “depressed.” And the last thing I want to do with my ReBorn life is to let it all flush away into the land of “meh.”
So this remarkable list of stalled awesomeness is challenging me to get off my formerly-huge-now-primarily-saggy hiney and get back to chasing the remarkable.
So, I shall chase. I shall pursue. I shall generate my own list that may or may not include a guy named Lars. And all it took was a nudge from The Animal, delivered via *insert name of social media site.*
Of course, if The Animal delivered that nudge in person, it would leave a mark. And bruises. And perhaps a need for triage…
’cause The Animal is fancy like that…