1. 1 Broken Toe. Ah Ah Ah. 2. 2 Broken Toes. Ah Ah Ah

3. CRAKOW!*****

Yes, it's true. In the last 2 weeks or so I have managed to break 3 toes on two different feet. Which, since I only have two feet* makes it hard to walk around. On my left foot, the two toes closest to my big toe are broken. On my right foot I broke my baby toe. You might not think baby toes do much, Gentle Reader.

You would be wrong. Baby toes are valuable assets, heavily used in your basic walking type movement.

Of course you're dying, dying, to know how I broke them all. I'd like to say that I managed this feat of awesome while saving kittens from certain death by toddler, or stopping a runaway train, with the sheer force of my smile, from splatting a bunch of frail old people moving-very-slowly-with-walkers.

If I was feeling particularly inventive, I might spin you a tale about this one time in band camp when aliens landed and I single-handedly defeated them all with nothing more than a beat-up old tuba, three pairs of swimming trunks and Billy** from across the lake. In the process of being a one-woman, collar bone equivalent breaking, whirlwind of destruction I failed to notice that their skin is hard like diamonds. I KO'd*** the shit out of a dozen aliens, but broke my toes in the process. Luckily I also have 3 levels of "Mama Ain't Raised No Pussy"**** and was able to keep going.

The other toe was probably nearly eaten by a small, portable Sarlacc Pit it just happened to have in its pocket. In the alien's pocket. Obviously. Sarlacc Pits can't go carrying themselves around in their own back pockets, that's just silly.

But the sad, boring truth is that I stubbed them all, rather forcefully, on various items laying around the house (I'm looking at you, weight bar in my living room). Apparently I just had to go and ram them repeatedly into things harder then them.
Inanimate objects 3. Toes 0. Touche inanimate objects. Touche.


* You were totally expecting me to say otherwise weren't you. Like maybe I was gonna go off on some tangent and be all "This one time, at band camp...." Well, well. Jokes on you this time isn't it. Isn't it! I am normal... In this regard.

** Billy didn't do much, but he was great at running out into the open screaming and drawing the attention of everything in a three mile radius. Good 'ole Billy. It's too bad about that alien ray gun.

*** What? Breaking a collar bone hurts. And these were wimpy aliens. No pain tolerance. Don't look at me like that. I can still axe kick, broken toes or not. I am Badass.

**** Ohhh the irony of that title in regards to my gender. Also, should I ever decide to make a Pen and Paper RPG, I'm totally going to use that as the title for the pain tolerance ability.

***** This is the sound thunder makes. And it's number five instead of one because I forgot to add this until the end. Also, I'm lazy and refuse to go back and re-number everything because that can't possibly be quicker than typing this explanation out. You're welcome.

Title? Brain? Huzzwha?

Boy howdy I loves me the smart people who don't take the fucking time to READ, READ GODDAMN YOU ILLITERATE HOBO-FUCKERS!

Shhhhh we're not going to point out the incongruity of telling illiterate's to read. I am exhausted and teh funnehs is hard atm.

On A Serious Note

I have an announcement. For the past month now (little more) I've been taking Dexedrine for the ADD I was recently, officially diagnosed with. Which means that for several weeks now I've been able to function like a real human being. One not saddled with very real problems with neurons and transmitters not firing like they're supposed to and information taking a walk down the path it's supposed to be walking on only to find that someone has gone and carved a thousand foot fucking gorge across the pathway and lined the sides of it with big goddamn boulders so they can't find some alternate route.

I have been happy (I assure you this is a first), I have been productive. I'm going to say that again because you have no idea what that means to me. I'VE BEEN MOTHERFUCKING PRODUCTIVE! I am getting shit done. I am doing my homework. I am sitting down and being creative. I CAN CONCENTRATE AND FOCUS ON SHIT. I CAN WRITE! I can, in short, be a normal person.

Wow. Just... fucking wow. I am a different person. Seriously, this is what it's like to be normal? Seriously? Holy shit people, you have no idea how lucky you are. You have no idea what you take for granted on a daily basis. You have no idea what it's like to try and do things and not be able to, no matter how much you want to. To have drive and ambition, but spend you're entire life being called lazy and unmotivated when you know perfectly well that inside you yearn, you fucking burn to do shit. That shit fucks with your self-esteem and confidence like no one's business.

I am a much better person as my friends and loved ones can attest to. And it's me, not some drug addled me, just the me I should be when brain chemistry isn't making me not me (enjoy that sentence!).

Please, if this isn't you, and you have a friend or someone who is like this, take a moment and try to understand things from their perspective. You probably won't be able to, but even trying is worth something. Don't put them down. Don't get frustrated with them when they can't meet your expectations of normalcy. You hurt them and only serve to dig the pit deeper and deeper. Help them. Get them help, at the very least just be understanding. Holy Christ, have some goddamn empathy, chances are good they want to succeed far more than you want them to succeed. It's their life after all.

If this is you. Seriously dude, get some help. Find a way to make it work. If you have to go into debt for it, seriously consider it. It will pay you back in spades (I wish to hell I'd done this years ago).

If you decide to take something, know what you're getting into. Do your research. This will also pay you back in spades. Know what you have. There's different types and what works for one type frequently doesn't work for the others. The wrong thing can really fuck you up. The right thing can make you a productive, focusing fiend. Arm yourself with knowledge. A lot of doctors out there know next to nothing about it. They have some cursory knowledge they read in a pamphlet back in med school and think Ritalin solves everything.

Be prepared to experiment. The first thing you try might not work. It might make things worse. I'm mixed, but primarily inattentive so Ritalin actually made things worse for me (not to mention the terrible side effects). Also, I can't take anything time released. Doesn't matter if it's vitamin C, if it's time released, it gives me migraines.

Go slow. See how your body's going to adjust. Find out which foods and such help, and which interfere. Monitor things and write shit down. Ask the people who know you to observe as well, they might notice something you don't or can't. Do your research. You are going to be your biggest ally on this. Don't be afraid to speak up and fight for yourself (or find someone who will if you can't just yet) because chances are reasonable you will have to.

Personally it's worth it to me. Maybe there will be side effects down the road. Maybe there won't. In the mean time, I'm finally accomplishing something with my life. Which A) means the world to me and B) means there's a good fucking chance that I'll have money to deal with anything that crops up later. But you know what, even more importantly, there will be a later because life is seriously worth living now.

For anyone who knows me, you know that I guard my privacy with a chainsaw, a dozen ravenous sharks, three tigers and several machine guns. But I'm sharing this because that's how much it means to me that people understand. I may or may not add to this as time goes on. But here it is for now.

If even one person can have that experience, than I consider the sacrifice of privacy to have been worth it.

Gentle Reader

Do be careful to keep the Tea Tree Oil away from one's eye. Most painful.