I'ma tell you 1 time

Here's me the day after my wreck before I left the apartment for the day. I couldn't stop busting out laughing about nothing until like lunch.  If you saw me you might have thought I was on drugs or something. I'm not! I'm just alive. And I'll tell you what, it's like the best drug ever. 

I'm about to be a little bit existential, so don't mind this post, because I don't even know if it will make sense in words. But it was the weirdest thing, waking up. One of my doctors said I'd be in pain for 72 hours and even prescribed me painkillers. Not that I got any injuries at all, but because of all the muscle tension during the flipping, I was ready to wake up very sore. But it wasn't like that.  It was different. For that very first moment entering consciousness, I wasn't anywhere. I was awake, but I wasn't my body in my bed. I was just like a brain somewhere in time and space.  I wasn't thinking about anything, I didn't feel anything physically or emotionally. I was just existing. 

And just that, that pure existence, was perfect.  

Maybe that's what heaven's like. 

The whole everything of the wreck is such a personal experience, it almost seems removed from me, myself.  Perhaps because we live such a public lives on blogs and Instagram and Twitter and Facebook, when something so drastic happens to you, it seems like it should go right up on the digital timeline of your life, like everything else.  (If it doesn't, doesn't it kind of make you feel like it never happened?) And I can do that, sure, but then I feel like that leaves something out.

By posting all the moments in our lives on those sites, we crave a published, permanent effect.  Something to look back on.  We tell virtually everyone that we want that part in our lives to forever be represented by that one moment- a photo taken with your phone, a status update, a perfectly constructed 140-character statement. I'm not saying that an Instagram picture can't be meaningful or a tweet can't speak from your heart; I bank on that to be true almost every time. What I'm saying is that when it comes down to retelling the truth, a nostalgic filter won't capture the shock.  A hundred well-meaning comments won't make it something to look back on. A couple re-tweets only take your words and deliver them further and further away from you.  

So, I don't think I can social media-ize my accident any more than I already have.  What I really wanted to say was that my wreck isn't going to be something to look back on.  It's really doing something to me, and I think for the better.  I have had so much fun these past 2 days and for no reason at all. It's like someone gave me a round 2 and I don't even know what to do with myself! Someone was like.. Ok, fine, you don't have to go yet, but you better start giving me a good reason why not.

I think it was God.
(!!!)

Hope you're all out doing everything you want to be doing. And if you're not, I hope everything you want to be doing is what you're doing.

Cheers/Evviva/הידד/Chok dee/ هتاف/to life!