(Glen's Story…) “Sol Invictus. Resillient A Mortius, Filius Mi…”
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Every time I’m asked what happened, or what the story is, I’m never quite sure how to answer in the way that it’s been asked. “Why do you walk like that,” or, “Why aren’t you working as a camera operator anymore?” When I try the short answer, it’s usually followed by a dozen more questions, but when I try the long answer, it feels like it goes on forever. So…
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1. The Shortest Version Of The Answer, Pt. 1:
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To have gone from doing my dream job that very day, to not being able to do anything at all that night, to having to go back to re-learning what my dream job has been - both what it is, what it was, and re-forming what it CAN be again - basically tells you what said story is. But - quite obviously - it doesn’t.
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2. The Shortest Version, Pt. 2:
When I say my favorite band’s Faith No More, what I really mean is that my favorite artist’s Mike Patton. Whatever band he’s currently in, let’s just say that THAT’S my favorite band, and/or musician/artist. Either way, when asked, my favorite band’s Faith No More, and my favorite album’s “Angel Dust.” Favorite song ever?! From that album, “Caffeine,” but when asked about the accident, I’ll just say that the last song off my favorite band’s last album doesn’t exactly tell my story, but it does.
It’s not about me, or people like me, who’ve been through what I’ve/we’ve been through, but just listen to “From The Dead’s” lyrics, then let me know if you’ve got more questions. And, yes, the band’s album, “Sol Invictus,” says it all. ”Did that really happen?!” After the incident in question, having to re-learn everything meant that I’d have to re-teach myself how to lie. I refused, and still refuse to do that.
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3. The Shorter Version:
Again, to have gone from basically doing my life-long dream job to being pronounced dead several times - both officially and unofficially - in two days, to writing this right now is a big enough deal to me. To have gone from being told that I’d never walk again, never read, talk, or write correctly ever again, and to be told long after the before said ‘nevers,’ that I’d never be able to work creatively again, to me, is a slightly bigger deal to have gone through. To have not remembered anything, to remembering enough to know what I wanted to do, to re-learning and re-making what my life’s all about, or even could be, well, you decide.
Many years ago, as I was walking home from a small venue concert, I was struck by a car that had run a red light. My right leg was shattered, along with a few cracks and heavy bruises, here and there, in my right arm. There’s a slight scar in my scalp which covers an actual crack in my skull, and I suffered a sever TBI, which is a Traumatic Brain Injury. There are three versions, which are mild, moderate, and severe. My doctors told me that there should be a fourth version for me, and people like me, who - I was told - are quite few and VERY far between: Extreme TBI.
As I’ve said to enough people who know me, “In my life, there’s no such thing as luck. To say that I’m lucky to be alive, well, I’ll just say that I’m very fortunate to be able to do anything again.” And when they’ve asked me if I’ll ever be normal again, “What - to you - is ’normal’?” And I’ve spoken to a number of strangers about what THEY think normal is, “Well, you’re not in a wheelchair. You don’t LOOK disabled.” To be clear, it’s been a long enough process to have gone from where I was to exactly where I am right now.
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4. The Short Version:
On January 18th, 2025, I went to The Paramount Bar in L.A. and saw the band Girl In A Coma. Two years prior, I’d seen the lead singer, Nina Diaz, solo at The Hotel Cafe. I went to the merch table after the show, where she was doing the after show meet ’n greet, and I went by to say h’lo. I walked up, and before I even said anything, she said that she knew my face, but wasn’t sure how or from where. She asked me my name, and when I told her, she looked unsure, so I followed up with, “I lived in Minneapolis with Alex, and when you’d come out on tour, you’d stay at our place.” She slightly gasped, and her face had the most surprised look that I think I’ve ever seen, then she gave me the BIGGEST hug I remember ever getting, and, as she squeezed me tightly, she whispered in my ear, “I’ve heard some sh*t.
”The last band that I saw live before that, sure, let’s call it “accident,” was a band known as FEA. The bass player’s Jenn Alva, and the drummer’s Phanie Diaz, Nine’s sister. G.I.A.C. is those three members. Nina’s the amazing guitar player and lead singer. The 2nd live show that I saw after coming back from where I’d been was FEA. And from the stage, 1/2 way through the show, Phanie said, “Glen, great to see you. Glad you’re still with us.” The opening band was Bruiser Queen, who I’d seen opening for FEA before, on October 13th, 2017. After this set, though, from the stage, their lead singer commented, “Thank you for still being with us. I can’t believer you’re here, but it’s great to see you.”
Two of my school friends from about the 6th grade on were Billie Joe and Mike from the band Sweet Children, in addition to John and Raj. That’s Armstrong and Dirnt, back then known with the last name Pritchard. After Raj left, John took his place, and after those two decided college was the better option, he was replace with Tré Cool when they changed their name to Green Day. When I was in my coma, Alex would play my iPod in my ears, even though I had no response. But she was told by my doctor that no matter what, I could hear it. The song that brought me out was “American Idiot.” If I were now to claim a theme song though, it would be “From The Dead.”
So, at the G.I.A.C. show, as I was walking up to the venue, Jenn and Phanie were walking across the street. Out of nowhere, “Glen!” They crossed the street because they’d seen me, and, again, the biggest hugs imaginable. From having gone from where I was to the biggest hugs ever makes me the happiest person alive, no pun intended.
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5. Yes, The Long Version:
Watch Your Watch Unwind…”
In the middle of the pandemic, I was listening to that last album by said favorite band, singing quietly along with the lyrics. At some point, I thought, “Hm. It’s weird to have gone through what I went through to where I am right now, and remember 90% of the lyrics to this, what, 10 year old album? Older than that?! Newer?!” So, I Google’d “Sol Invictus,” just to see if it was older or younger than ten years, and to my extreme surprise, the album’s five, yes, FIVE year anniversary was the very next day, May 19th, 2020. But to have gone through, again, where I was on that particular day was already a big enough deal, but to go from - quite literally - remembering no music to remembering an album’s lyrics right then ’n there, well…
“Hear Your Lion Roar…”
The 1st memory after the accident was opening my eyes, squinting at the confusing flourescent lights on the ceiling, then looking down, seeing a HUGE amount of wires sticking out of my right leg, trying to point at them with my right hand and arm, which I was VERY unable to do, and - in whatever form of, “language,” I was able to speak at that time - asking my (now ex-) girlfriend at the time, Alex, what was going on, where I was, and why I was there. After a really short answer about whatever’d gotten me there, I was overly shocked and surprised, then passed WAY back out.
My 2rd memory being me, opening my eyes again, squinting at the lights…again, looking over - AGAIN - and being SO excited at seeing my sister, and seeing my mom right behind her. I don’t have a sister, but my 1/2 sister who I thought I’d just seen’d been dead for about twenty-five years. And my mother for over twenty years. But, who I’d seen was the ex, and she had to explain quickly that she wasn’t my sister, but the GF, and that that obviously wasn’t MY mom, it was HER mom, who’s still kind of my friend. Of course, surprised, I passed out again.
3rd memory being sitting in a wheelchair, being pushed around the hospital room, saying, quote, “Nope, nope, NOPE,” getting out, laying back in my hospital bed, and very actively saying that I’d never be in a wheelchair again. Quite a while after that, maybe a year or so, my doctors said that they were sure I’d be bedridden for the rest of my life, and once I got up, I’d always need a wheelchair, and a bit after the ’nope’ incident, I’d always need a walker, then - of course - I’d always need a cane.
“Welcome Home My Friend…”
Going back to memory 1, the accident in question occured, after seeing a concert - quite ironically - at The Viper Room in L.A. on Halloween night, 2017, while walking home. It officially happened on November 1st at 1:31 in the morning. After having seen a few friends bands, FEA included, then crossing the street at La Cienega and San Vicente, about three blocks from home, I was hit by a suspected drunk driver. He (or she) ran a red light from the left turn lane directly into me, doing 50 in a 35 zone in - what I was originally told - a stolen car. And, as I’m writing this, recently told by my investigating detective that it wasn’t officially stolen. It was, according to the owner, “missing.”
Unofficially pronounced dead upon arrival by the LAFD paramedics, then officially - twice - on the ER bed. Then again - twice - on the operating table the next night, before going into my medically induced coma for a month and a half, from which I wasn’t expected to live. And, even if I did live longer than a month, it wasn’t expected, as I was told much, MUCH later, that my thought processing would never be right or controlled again. Reading, writing, and creativiy would never happen correctly again, nor would speech.
That you or I wouldn’t exactly be able to understand what I was talking about, even though I thought I’d be thinking the correct thought, was something that went on for several years after I’d gotten as, what’s usually called, “normal,” as I’d ever be. Years later, I’ll quote my doctor: “Yes, we thought you’d never walk again, but that you’ve imoroved SO much, we’re not sure if your body’s still that injured, or if your mind-set’s still keeping you struggling with movement.” Oh, and from before, after the walking, talking, and thought difficulty he said that I’d always have, again, quote: “…And we thought you’d never be able to work creatively again.”
That said, 4th memory’s me being in physical therapy, and having the threrapist tell me how surprised she was that I’d done the suggested exercises at home, so I told her that, sure, the exercises were suggested, but really it was very strongly insisted that doing them would help a ton. She responded with the fact that many of them - most of the injured, in fact, didn’t want to, or WOULDN’T, but really and/or refused - didn’t do their exercises. Then, at that EXACT moment, an older lady at the next desk over said, and again, I quote: “…But I’m exercising right here, right now! I don’t WANT to do then at home. They’re hard to DO!”That’s when my memory starts getting better, day by day, and when I start remembering my past, very little by very little. And that’s when the ex-GF started making me read past emails to and from another lady friend, and her telling me a few things that I still can’t actually believe that I actually did. I’d get upset, and sad, and keep trying to explain that I didn’t remember any moment of ANY of that. Different Note, Memory-Wise: One of my therapists giving me, as what was said, “The Rule Of Three,” or something to that effect: 1) Is this worth it for me to even say, 2) Are they, whoever, “they,” are, going to be interested, and, 3) How can I keep this to three sentences or fewer?!
Things that I definitly wasn’t supposed to remember: At least five years prior to the accident. It was made VERY clear to me that those previous years were 100% gone.
So here’s what I don’t remember 100% of: Any relationship or relationship-wise related content of ANY kind. Anything sexual, or any of the cheating that I was said to have done, or any of the arguments. Also, and this was unexpected, any of the live music shows that I’d been to after about 2010. And I’ve been to a ton of live festivals, shows, and concerts - both big and small - but I really do not remember one. So, having seen my favorite band of all time in 2015, and not rememberiing anyting close to having been there, well, disappointing is the kind word to say.
What I DO remember, here ’n there: Little tiny bits of places that I’ve been, bits of bizarre stories, and little memories from work. Having travelled the entire country, and a bit around the world for work, remembering bits ’n pieces is both good and great and bad.
I was talkling to my aunt on one of our weekly phone calls some time in 2023, and I said, again, quote: “Going from coming back as a six year old to where I am right now…,” and she sort of interrupted me with, “No, you came from being a newborn to where you are today.” So, yeah, my earliest memories from above were people who were around when I was six, to actually - and quite literally - coming back from the dead. A big part of what she mentioned is that I could barely make a noise, much less talk understandablt, or even close to correctly.
And, AND, to have come back to being able to sort of remember ANY day by day things, such as eating or doing anything relatable to creativity, let’s say writing or drawing, and, again, YES, actually eating during the pandemic was as much of a life changer as the accident. With only two other people anywhere near me for about a year and a half - my aunt and uncle - was almost as if I was getting back to being me all by myself. I saw my cousins once apiece, and my daughter with her BF once. Actually, I still can’t believe that’s the way it went, and SO well. It might just say something about who I am, who I’ve always been, where I’ve come from, but who I am right now, and how I look at life.
“I Can See The Parade…”
Well, the next step when I was pre-writing this story is/was a list. That list is as follows:
- “Okay, let’s coursae this down:”
1. “What was the accident?”
2. “What did that mean, and do, to me?”
3. “Who was the ex, and what she meant to me,”
4. “What do I remember, and what DON’T I remember,”
5. “What exactly does a little bit - day by day - mean, then and now?”
6. “Where was I?!”
7. “Where am I right now?”
…And now I’m writing these without notes, so:
1. What Was The Accident?
As I’ve already mentioned: H’ween night to November 1st, walking home in H’wood. Probably drunk driver who was, and this is according to witnesses, arguing VERY angrily with the passenger about something on each of their phones. Obviously not paying any attention to the rest of the world, ran a red light directly into me. That I don’t remember the accident is a good enough thing, but that horns honking while I’m walking now distresses me enough to (kind of) know what the actual accident entailed. Small side note goes here: There was a lawsuit several years ago involving whether or not I should be awarded SSDI, but one of my lawyers asked me if I’d ever, “Seen a video of anything that happened that night?” I assumed they were asking me if there WAS a video, so I said, “No.” After that call ended, I chatted with my aunt and uncle, telling them that my lawyer asked if there was a video, and I said that there absolutely was not.
They glanced at each other, then both looked at me at the same time, then looked back at each other. It looked to me like a confused look, but I found out that it was concern. He shrugged, she smirked, then pointed at him. He closed his eyes, opened them after a moment of thought, looked directly at me, and: “Yes. Yes there IS a video. We’ve seen it, and it’s nearly impossible to watch the whole thing. We never told you about it, as we didn’t want you to actuallly know. It’s probably not even something that you could handle watching, much less all the way to the end.” So I messaged my friend, who’d become a city council member after my accident - more on that in a bit - and she wrote back, quote, ”Oh yes, I’ve seen it, and it look me a LONG time to make it to the end. It’s nearly impossible to watch. It’s very hard to even look at.”
Side note over, so, I was run into on my right side, and most of my right leg was shattered, part of my right arm was splintered, and, again, there’s a scar on the right side of my skull. I’ve got a donated right knee tendon, and an artificial left knee one as well. I’ve been told many times how fortunate I am that my ankles, hips, elbows, and spine had little to no damamge. And, again, finding out in 2023 that the driver said the the car was, “missing,” means that no-one was ever caught.
Okay, post accident, I was pronounced dead officially four times over the next two days. Twice in the ER, and two more times on the emergency operating table. And, again, according to my SSDI lawyers, unoffically by the LAFD paramedics as they were bringing me back to life. But it’s on the LAPD body cam that after the paramedics told the officers what was happening, again - according to my lawyer - “Well, even if you DO get him back, no one will come looking for him, as he’s homeless. Nobody’s going to care.” When I was working in the entertainment business, I started growing a beard, as I thought it would be funny if I looked like a famer, a hill-billy, or QUITE ironically, a homeless man. Back in the day before beards were considered, “cool,” again.
2. What Did That Mean To Me?
Well, short answer: I don’t know. Yes, I was brought back from the dead, and yes, it took me six months to even get close to walking again. But the truth is that I’m not really sure. A good couple of years afterwards, one of my doctors said, and he said that he was speaking for both of them, as they’d had a long conversation about the following quote, “Yes, there’re three versions of TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury). 1st is mild, 2nd is moderate, 3rd’s severe. As we’d talked about it, we decided that there should be a 4th version, for you, and people like you, which are few and far between: Extreme.” And, again, that I’d come back in ways that THEY couldn’t understand, well, I guess that’s pretty much what it meant, and what it means to me. I’ve said multiple times that I don’t believe in luck. Life’s often exactly what we make of it. Sometimes there are things we can’t control, and we’ve made choices that got us where we are. I’d say that it’s just fortunate that I’m alive, and that I’m doing the things I do.
There was a long time, post-accident, that I was very unhappy. “Why did this happen? Will I ever be able to do anything normal again?! I just want everything to be alright again.” Then, mid-pandemic, I - quite literally - woke up one day, and told myself to get over it. Accept the fact that I’m getting a tiny bit better at everything, in slightly different ways, day by day by day. And, I’m 99% sure that that was the day that I started thinking and talking and moving better. A tiny bit better, and in slightly different ways, day after day. And I went from having very down days about 1/2 of the week, and having happier days on the other half, to basically forcing myself to be in a positive mood. Every. Single. Day.
3. Who Was The Ex, And What Did She Mean To Me?
How these seemingly simple questions get more complicated as time progresses, both as I’m writing this right now, and as the days go by, sometimes confuses me. But, to begin, the ex’s name is Alex, and we were together for 13 years. Wait, no, it was late 2002 until early 2020. So, um, 18 years. I’m blowing my OWN mind now. The reason this’s such an, “I Don’t Know, Exactly,” is because, obviouly, post-accident, I can’t remember any of my previous relationships. Not a single moment of a single one. And if you don’t know me, you should know that I have a daughter, who was born, either quite ironically or not, on H’ween ’91. Right away, after the accident, another one of my earliest memories was that I have a daughter. To remember that means a ton, but I don’t rememeber a moment of the relationship with her mom. I could, right now if asked, walk anyone through the two story house that she was house sitting when my daughter was conceived. I remember the place, and the room, but not being with her ever. Not one moment. And to have heard, from Alex, that I’d cheated on her a bunch in those 18 years, but, AGAIN, I literally don’t remember one single second of any of that, kind of means what it means.
I’ve had a conversation or two with a few of those women, two of whom I knew I’d known, but not in, politely, “that way.” And one that I don’t remember at all. “It’s okay,” is not exactly the answer I’d like to hear after I’ve said that post-death, I don’t remember our affair(s). Again, I’ve been told a few bizarre things, and a few that don’t make any sense, but to have become a - again, quite literally - different person after all of that, to hear a few of the things that don’t sound like me, and to be told that, “You were a real a’hole usually,” n’ also, “You’re quite a different person now, but kind of the same, in the best way(s) possible,” well, y’know. I’m kind of going off topic, so, the ex told me many times about MANY different scenarios that sounded awful, but I’ve been told by multiple people that it was kind of like that, but I’ve been told that I wasn’t always the bad guy. And that it was a relationship that should’ve eneded years before, as neither of us were exactly happy.
As my friend Danny said a while back, after we’d been talking about good and not so good things in said relationship, and after I’d mentioned how it’d ended, “Wait. She? Broke up wtih YOU?!” That, again, blew my f’ing mind. I’d been told since right after the accident, by Alex, that I’d always been the bad guy. But after the conversation with Danny, I talked to a lot of my old friends about it, and they all said pretty much the same thing. That we were both troubled in VERY different ways, and that neither of us were the good guy, or the bad guy, but that I drank too much alcohol, and that she had gigantic problems with her father that never got taken care if properly. Oh, and that, toward the end, we went through about six months of couple’s thereapy, at 1st once a week, then the pandemic hit, so once a month, and I learned quite a bit about myself that I’d never known, like that I’d watched my mom cheat of her boyfriend in the early years, and how this affected me in large ways, but the ex refused to acknowledge that her relationship with her dad had any effect on her, or us,, uh, or anything, really. She actually said something to the effect of all she could think about was what I’d done. I understood - and understand - but to have gone from who I was to who I am now, well, she was dealing with a totally different person, and refused to believe that.
4. What Do I Remeber, And What I DON’T Remember?!
Quite a while after the accident, my doctors were VERY clear that my memory would be totally gone from a bit after the accident, the actual accident itself, and at LEAST five years prior to the accident. Those previous ten years would be hit and/or miss, and beyone that, no one knows. Or knew, anyway. So, what I don’t remember is as follows: I don’t remember one single second of the accident, it’s immediate aftermath, or, as I’ve said before, anything until waking up and looking down at the many wires sticking out of my leg. I was going to move on to what I do remember, then what I don’t, but I’ll keep it as clear as I can from here on out. I don’t remember a single moment of my romantic life. In those five years, and a few years before that, I don’t remember any of the live concerts or shows that I’d attended. And, as having worked in the entertainment industry for years, I didn’t remember any movies I’d ever seen.
Except that I did and do. Every time I’d re-watch a movie that I’d seen, and didn’t remember seeing, as soon as I saw the first shot, I’d remember 95% of everything that came afterwards. One day, in February 2024, I was walking along H’wood and the Egyptian Theater’d just opened back up. So I went and asked what was playing. “We’re having a Kim Novak retrospective. It’s two days, and we’re on day two. Tonight’s last show is at 7:30, and it’s ‘Vertigo.’” To which I replied, quote, “Oh, my favorite movie ever made on the big screen?!” And, yes, I knew that it was my favorite movie from a younger age, but after I’d bought my ticket, had dinner, and went into the theater, I knew that I wouldn’t remember a moment of it. Until I did. And I was quietly saying lines as ther were being spoken in said movie. So that’s one of the odd things that I do remember.
When a few of my ex-co-workers and I met up for lunch, we were talking about a few things, and then I mentioned that I’d just seen one of the fellows of the reality TV episodes that we’d worked on. “He saw my face, then that I had a camera, then my face, and then he said to the man who was petting his dog, “Oh, my dog really wants to get home. We’ve got to go.’ And away he went.” So, I mentioned a memory of the show, with that particular guy, that we’d all worked on. “You put down your camera, and said that you had to hit the bathroom, and said, ‘If anything happens, you know what to do.’ Yeah, pick up the camera, keep in focus, hit the ‘On’ button, and…’ Then you said, ‘I’ve got. To go. NOW,’ and rushed off to the b’room. Then the owner thought that there weren’t any camera operators, so he started yelling at one of his employess, so I picked up the camera, got it going, and what I’d shot was the 1st thing I ever got to see of my work on TV.
”To which he responded, “How? Can you even?! Remember THAT?!?!” Yes, it’s an oddly specific memory, and that I can remember that, is, well, and odd thing. I’ve talked to Mac, the B-Camera operator about other odd things that I remember, and everything that I remember, or even talk about, goes against SO much of what my doctors thought would ever happen. But to, again, be able to walk or talk or even be alive is the biggest of all the deals.
5. What Exactly Does A Litlle Bit At A Time, Day By Day Mean, Then AND Now?!
Well, obviously, Then meant getting up and out of bed, walking anywhere, and doing anything, both creative AND not. But about 2 and a 1/2 years after the accident - yes, a few months INTO the pandemic - I could finally wake up in the morning, look around and think - or say - “I’m here. I’m alive. Time to do (whatever plans I’d had for the day.)” And the 1st part of that thought/speech process menas exactly what it sounds like. After 2 and a 1/2 years, I could finally remember, on a daily basis, where I actually was. From my 1st memory of waking up in the hospital, to around May of 2020 I’d open my eyes when I woke up, and - quite literally - not know where I was. Not confused, but not actually know where I was. Be that MPLS, the ex’s childhood bedroom, or my room in the Bay Area. Again, I’d open my eyes, look at the ceiling, glance around for about 1/2 a minute, then finally sit up and realize exactly where I was. Where I’d slept the night before. How I’d woken up. And that I was quite - and still - alive.
There were many days when I thought that it was either a dream, or all in my imagination. That I’d died, and this was - somehow - some sort of afterlife. And there were some days that even after I’d figured out where I was, I’d have to get up and see actual people to actually know that this was real life, and I was really alive. And that’s just the beginning of what Little By Little, Day By Day started to mean. Once I’d gotten through that process, I’d start trying to talk more correctly. 3 rules was applying more and more. I’d have to think to myself, “Are they interested, is it worth it?” Then and WAY too long sometimes, I’d have to tell myself to shut up. When I’d 1st started staying with my family, I could barely read. When the pandemic hit, I’d try to read more, day by day, but I’d usually get through exactly three paragraphs in a 3 hour period. I’d read through one sentence, then I’d have to go back, re-read it to understand it, then go back,re-re-read it to see how that realated to the previous sentence and/or paragraph, then go BACK, re-re-RE-read it to actually form it, in my mind, as a statement. I started George Orwell’s “1984” which I’d read completely in high school, and again in 2020, and - as I recall - gotten through three pages in, well, in a month. Oh, and that I just now wrote that author’s name, as it’s amazing what I remember now.
So Now means that when I was still in the Bay, I had to tell myself that this was never going to be a quick process. When I’d moved back to L.A., about two months into that, I woke up one day, did my exercises, got dressed, then started my daily long walk. I got about a 1/4 of a block, up to the corner from where I was staying, could barely keep balanced, or even walk correctly, decided to go back to the apartment. Took off my shoes, then laid in bed - which was my air-mattress - for almost exactly another three hours. Just laying there. staring at the ceiling. Not depressed, but not happy. So I realized that I’d have to make my own exercises, in addition to the ones given to me by physicak therapy, and make myself more physically able to do ANYTHING, a little bit at a time, day by day. That’s where the Now comes in. I force myself to do a different set of exercises every day. Some with weights, some standing, and some on an exercise mat. Every day, bit by bit. Some days I feel what’s called, “normal,” and some days I’m weaker, but that’s another thing that it took forever to understand. That there are good days and not-so-good days, body-wise, for everyone. That’s yet another thing that I’ve had to realize is that everyone’s got, some quite different, some not so, that everyone’s got good and not-so-good days.
6. Where Was I?It’s kind of obvious, but I was pronounced dead five times in two days. Told I’d never walk again, read, or write correctly again. The word, “normal,” was used too often, as what’s normal? I’ve heard people say to dis-abled people, “You don’t look normal.” And I’ve had enough people say to me, “You don’t look disabled,” to know that many have no idea what they actually think normal is, or what dis-abled even means. As is too often the point, abnormal or dis-abled refers to anything that doesn’t look or act like they do.
7. “And Where Am I Right Now?!”