Patiently Confident

Well, something big just happened.

I based this blog off of my having a spinal cord injury before beginning to write, about two and a half years ago. My spinal cord injury was the most substantial thing that had occurred to me within the first 20 years of my life, but now this. I can honestly say that for the vast majority of my post-injury life, I didn’t believe it would ever happen, but it just did. I got engaged! I dropped the question of all questions, and she said CHYEA! Now before you go passing judgment, hear me out, and if you still want to pass judgment, save it because I don’t care…

“Engage” is a strong word. I believe a lot of people have gotten so used to the term “engagement” as a noun and simply the time span leading up to the marriage of two people. These people mutually select each other and together, they decide on a date for the biggest day of their lives, their wedding day. The time span of their engagement could last anywhere from a couple of months to a couple of years, or longer, whatever. When their big day comes, hopefully the two of them will still share the same feelings for one another and follow through with their marriage. And if they decide to follow through with their marriage, there’s a 50% chance it will last. The common goal is to remain together, but when faced with adversity, it’s possible they won’t fight to make it work.

I believe this to be a very brief, yet very fair summarization of how society views the typical engagement and marriage. However, the picture I have painted in my head looks much differently from the one I believe depicted by society. The focal point of this scene I see lies on the strong root of this word engagement, engage. I know a lot of people who have never truly engaged themselves in anything, and I’m sure there have been many, many people who have lived their entire lives without doing so, a significant portion of whom died married men and women, and were at one point “engaged” themselves. Engagement is a noun, but engage is a verb, which is how I believe an engagement should be viewed.

Engagement— The process in which two people share while engaging themselves in each other’s lives’, and preparing themselves and also each other for the longest, yet happiest struggle of their lives, marriage. Once the two have seen enough of each other to be sure, this process will begin with a proposal, the commitment to each other and to this engagement process, which is the first and most crucial step towards beating the 50/50 odds of divorce. A marriage is the closest representation of two bodies becoming one flesh, which requires an excessive amount of time and effort to be done correctly.

One thing I know for sure is I’m not doing a gaht damn thing unless I’m doing it right. I’m either all in, or I’m not playin’. I think the ancient Romans said it best when they said, “Go big, or go home… straight to your mommy, then straight to bed.”

I’m about to go so big because I’ve never felt more sure, or ready for anything in my life.

I almost wrote something recently about Sophie and how happy I was, but never found the time to do so. No, we haven’t been together long, but we have spent an outrageous amount of time together since we started dating at the end of December. At least technically, I can say we started dating last year. We really never took more than a few days off from seeing each other, until leading up to this weekend. I’m actually typing this book ahead of time, on my Sophie-down-time. The last I saw her was Sunday, January 30^th, and we took almost two weeks off, waiting until Friday, February 12^th to reunite. I miss her a lot, but I’m proud of us. Not only am I seeing me her mental/emotional strength, but I’m awarded the time to prepare for giving her the best weekend she’s ever had. Since I’ve posted this, its either coming to an end, or ended already. I guess I’ll start looking for that next big thing to focus on and look forward to. That’s what keeps us going, right?

…I’ve still have a lot to get through,  but it only gets better. Hopefully my brilliant and intriguing writing is grabbing you by the neck, pulling you in, and making your heart race like you front row at Keeneland.

KINDA LIKE IT ALWAYS DO.

Which brings me to my first word for 2016, confidence. I wanted to tie a little truth into my writing that I was trying to do earlier, back when I wanted to spread the word about Sophie, but couldn’t find dat time. I wanted to talk about the endless confidence that I’ve found because of Sophie, and how I was going to really focus on it during the New Year. But with seeing her so much, and killing all things school related and life related, I haven’t even found the time to wipe my own ass, in all honesty.

Nah, I’m pretty sure my ass ain’t dirty.

As of lately, my life has been moving in the most positive direction. I’m on cloud 9. My life decisions are indefinitely leading me to become a better person. I’m becoming a man now. I feel this. I know this. Being with Sophie makes me feel like I’ll never spend another day down for the rest of my life. I know that’s awfully naïve of me, but I also know I’ve never felt this great, confident, or happy in my life. I mean, all I can think is…

“You just love struck, like a candy-ass.”

“You just smitten, like a little bitch.”

I believe, at least at this point in my life that patience and confidence are the two most important traits for me to focus on and improve upon. I firmly believe that no man will make it far if he doesn’t have an extreme amount of confidence. I attribute the majority of my recent depression to a weak level of confidence.

Any girl, any real girl, will tell you that a man’s confidence is much more attractive than his looks. One’s appearance is typically a good representation of how confident he is. Although the two tend to move hand in hand, this doesn’t have to be the case, and often isn’t. Think about those sukka looking dudes you’ve known, or have seen that landed gorgeous girls. I’m talking about the 5s walking around with the 9s. I’m talking about the 6s posted with the 10s. I’m sure it’s not all attributed to these sukka looking dudes having confidence, but the one thing y’already know these sukka looking dudes had was confidence. Being confident is how I know I’m gonna mass murder all aspects of life.

I see confidence as a stimulative trait. Guys that are confident in themselves seem to inherently have many other positive traits, as well. A man’s confidence will give him drive. He will be motivated and personable, which will lead him to form all kinds of relationships. And if you’d ask me, I’d say it’s obvious that human relationships are far superior to any and all things materialistic. I’m aware of very few successful people that don’t have these traits down to a tee, and for me, the best way to acquire these traits is to first and foremost become confident in myself. CHECK; I have (for the most part) always had confidence. I’ve just never had so much continuous confidence. The stunning creature whom they call Sophdawg, and whom I now call my fiancé, shatters my confidence barometer.

I love psychology. I like to think I’d be a star in the psyche world if I had credibility, but I’d rather not obtain the credibility, and keep thinking that I would be. The Thomas theorem is my favorite theorem on the psychology front:

“If men define situations as real, they are real in their consequences.”

-William Isaac Thomas

The point is that all you have to do is conquer your psyche. If you have it in your head that you’re The Man, you’ll start reaping the benefits of The Man.

My second word for 2016 is patience. You’re probably chuckling your tits off right now because I wasn’t very patient with my proposal, but like I said, hear me out.

I really haven’t dated anyone seriously since my injury. Anytime I’d hear about a friend, or really anyone who’s close to my age get engaged, I’d immediately look down on them. Like…

“Duuude you’re young! Be on your own! Learn! Grow!”

I’d scream in my head and at them, occasionally. Sometimes I’d take a few seconds to awkwardly fish around in my wheelchair bag before, “FLIPP!!” Pocketknife swinging out with vigor while getting in their face, flesh on flesh, threatening what, and mainly who, meant most to them in this world. *Tru.

Playin’; not true.

I’m breaking all kinds of beliefs, though, lately because of Sophie. I’ve always felt that way, though (in quotations^^), but I guess it was really only a matter of time until I felt otherwise. I’ve been out of a relationship for about four-and-a-half years now, which for me, at least, was absolutely necessary. I needed that time on my own to figure out who the hell I was, and come to some of my own life conclusions. Everyone beats to his or her own drum, though, people are just different, and shit. The world needs different people. I’ve learned. I’ve grown. I’ve figured out who I am, and my solo phase has now passed. Solo-dolo Hunnaboy is no longer with us, but this isn’t a day for mourning. This is a day for rejoicing. I’m confident solo-dolo Hunnaboy would have wanted it that way.

I went on a handful of dates over this four-and-a-half year,“No-Chica,” period, but nothing ever went down. It just wasn’t going down in the DMs.

Honestly, though, I felt like none of the girls I would be physically attracted to would pay me a minute of attention. This wasn’t necessarily true, but I thought it was and it got me acting funny, or at least off my game when I’d be around most pretty girls (What up Thomas Theorem?). Most pretty girls totally suck, though. I did actually go on a couple of dates with pretty girls, but never felt comfortable counting them because they were such terrible people. I thought I was doing everything right.

I got was so frustrated.

As it would turn out, I was doing everything right, though. Matter-a-fact, I couldn’t have been doing them better; I wasn’t forcing relationships. I never went on more than a few dates with a girl because when you don’t know, you know.

I recently had a talk with one of my boys; he goes by “Young Connor B.,” and often times, simply “Young.” I shared a lot about Sophie with him, and referenced the time (not long ago) when I told him I didn’t want a pretty girl. I remember clearly saying…

“ I’m looking for a busted-ass girl, Young.”

I had it in my head that the kind of girl I was looking for wasn’t out there (bighearted, intelligent, and beautiful). I became weak. I misplaced my faith, and I lost patience. I knew that if I dropped one of these key traits, I’d have better luck. I thought to myself about it…

“Well, you’re the kind of person who genuinely cares about others. Not to mention, you’re in a gaht damn wheelchair now. She has to be able to see and respect your genuinity.”

 – “Okay, she gotta have a big heart.”

“You’ve been on dates with stupid people, and each time, you’ve had to get a handle on your own suicidal temptations, and manage your very own psychopathic thoughts. Watch your step here because once you break, you might not be comin’ back.”

— “Okay, she gotta be intelligent.”

“Hm, you’ve never been attracted to someone that wasn’t beautiful, but at the same time, you’ve gotten so used to the beauty in a girl that it no longer did much for you. Physical qualities are sure nice, but I guess their reach is awfully limited.”

–”Okay, you can do without :,(.”

I tried, and I tried. I quit, and I tried again. I couldn’t do it.

“You just have expensive taste in women :,(. You need a babe :,(. You need a 10 :,(.” 

I cried so hard.

I remembered the Ancient Romans, I was gonna go big. If I didn’t find the girl for me, the girl with all the qualities that I wanted, I’d keep flying solo. I prepped myself because most times I didn’t think I had a chance. I mean how many bighearted, intelligent, AND beautiful girls are there in the world? Like 6?

My frustration got heavy, and my mental would run its mouth in my head (A.k.a. I’d think)…

“You just aren’t normal. You’ve never felt like the typical dude. You’re just different (like it was a bad thing).”

Then my emotional would run, spreading insecurities…
“Girls want big dudes, and you’re just not a big structured dude. Your genetics aren’t capable of getting you what you want. Everyone wants an awesome, gorgeous girl, not just you. You’re paralyzed. You’re in a  wheelchair. Seriously, who’s on the lookout for that? There are so many more attractive people out there, and they can walk. Their legs work. You have to settle for less.”

These are actually fantastic examples of thoughts that used to run through my head. They came mainly during my depression phase, but even out of my depression phase on down days. It was exhausting, and when they came, I couldn’t live in the moment and focus on my tasks at hand.

My recent depression was primarily due to my paralysis. For the majority of the time since my accident, post-injury Hunter has, if anything, been much better off than pre-injury Hunter. It felt like the third year post-injury was when reality had finally decided to break me. That’s not to say I’m blaming it all on the wheelchair, though. Everyone has bullshit in their lives. Everyone deals with insecurities, whatever they may be. Everyone wants to find love. Everyone worries about being alone.

Towards the beginning of January, I shared a long conversation with Kelly, Sophie’s gorgeous and freaking awesome mom. Kelly briefly described her daughter’s personality to me. Her description consisted of little breadth, but very fair depth. Kelly chose to share with me the size of her daughter’s heart and how it was incomparable to anyone else she had ever known. “Sophie genuinely cares for everyone, whether she knows anything about them, or not,” Kelly told me. She went into more depth, but she didn’t expand much on the breadth because it simply wasn’t necessary; her heart said it all.

I had already seen this, but it became more real when I heard it verbalized, especially by her mother. The strong attraction, the connection, started to make all the sense in the world to me, and for the first time, I knew I could trust my feelings. When two hearts collide, the rest begins to fall in place, rapidly.

The only other girl I’ve ever loved also had a huge heart, we shared four years of our lives together, however, our personalities never quite matched. I’ve honestly never met anyone, male or female, whose overall personality matched mine so closely, as does Sophie’s. For two people’s personalities/humor to match so well, I think intelligence has to be pretty on point, as well. And if matching personalities doesn’t say enough about her intelligence, I think her graduating high school with a GPA >4.0 and having full intentions of attending grad school as a speech pathologist does.

I guess I’d understand if you still weren’t convinced I found true love. I mean, I did say I needed a 10, but I’m so in love with the person Sophie is, that she doesn’t need to be a 10.

Only thing is…

Sophie=>>10

She’s so much more than your average looking girl! I’ve never been so attracted to another human being. For the first time in my life, I no longer desire other women. I mean, I recognize beauty, but it’s no longer followed by a sexual urge. Sophie’s like a Lamborghini, really, only she’s better because she can communicate and share experiences. She’s like an Interactive Murcielago, the only one of its kind, and I’ve got the keys.

There’s a time to be patient, and a time not to be because you could die tomorrow. You could die tonight, and not even see tomorrow. Never WASTE time. Be patient until you know, but when you know, you’ll know, and you need to pull the trigger. You need’a eat.

After giving my brother a whole lot of shit for rushing his engagement and promising myself I would never follow in his footsteps, here I am. “When you know, you know,” is a common saying for a reason, one that I never used to understand. It’s what my brother would tell me when I expressed disbelief, or disagreement. It makes sense to me now, though, that you need to feel it in order to understand it (which is NOT to sound condescending towards people that date for longer periods before making the plunge, after all, everyone is different, and NO relationship is the same). I’m going against my promise because I can’t go against my feelings, not this time. Sometimes, executive decisions need’a be had.

I hope you’ve gained something out of this monster. Please don’t think that I think I know better. Many things, I am, but ignorant is not one of them. I wanted to share my big news, and the rest has simply been heavy on my heart. After the severe amount of stage three carpal tunnel all up in my wrists from grinding so hard typing this, I think I’m finally pleased with the finished product.

I never have much of a plan, and certainly no outline before writing. It seems like it’s everyday that I type a number of notes on my iPhone containing a random thought, or idea. Every once in awhile, I’ll find myself searching for one of these notes and adding more to it. It’s when this urge to write more on a topic starts to feel too big for any note on an iPhone that I tend to form a new blog post. I like to think this “push” to write more and more on a topic is from a Godly figure. I like to think it’s this figure sukka-shoving me in the chest, and my own uncertainties and concerns about whether or not to go for it is really just my feet treading below me trying to regain support.

If that makes sense

..just be patiently confident.

Three’s a lucky number, right?

Eyy it’s my rebirthday. October 6 is the happiest day of the year for me. The weather’s great, the spaghetti’s good, what an awesome day to be a-l-i-v-e. I even started it on a good note, up from the Hilton Head tennis tournament. That don’t matter much anyway, my hamster could have died yesterday and I’d still be up today.

Whew, what a rough year though. I did a heck of a job hiding it, but year three was definitely the hardest year of my life, let alone post injury. Maybe it’s because I started it off recently coming to terms with the fact I’m about to spend the rest of my life in a chair and won’t ever move my legs again, maybe it’s because nobody likes you when you’re 23, or maybe I’m just salty because I didn’t do too hot on my accounting exam last week.. but it actually really was.

On a much less playful note, I’ve been prettty down this past year. It was bullshit to be honest – straight draining me mentally and emotionally. And physically because I been slacking in the weight room. It wasn’t all bad, it was more like a rollercoaster ride, just not as fun. I’d be counting the days down until I’m rich and famous one week, then feel the lowest I’ve ever felt the next.

Smoke all that though. I’m on a long ride up now. I’m just chillin’ at the front getting cranked up the tallest coaster on Earth – with my Beats on because that noise would drive me nuts. I’ve taken a lot of learning points from those down days…

First and foremost, I’ve been reminded by hearing about and seeing the effects of other tragedies concerning others that were less fortunate than me… that was a mouthful and probably could have been said much simpler, but I got a busy day and I’m typing this inbetween classes… Others that are no longer with us would smack me so hard if I was being a sour puss, which I have been a lot of this past year, big time.

Also, I found out I can still have fun and do exciting things. I got to live a lot this past year – a lot more so than the second year post injury, and a lot a lot more so than the first. I found a snowboarding replacement in monosking, which I’ll for sure be doing some of this winter, as well as every future winter that I’m fortunate enough to be here. And most of all, I found a gymnastics replacement in tennis that I’m very, very stoked about. I also found out that kayaking is pretty rad. The next thing on my radar that I plan on getting into is scuba diving. I’m really excited for some future trips to the Caribbean to swim with sea turtles and horses, and other life found only in the sea. When the time is fitting in year four, I’ll get myself scuba certified and probably an oversized frame for the certificate to obnoxiously and inconveniently cover my nightstand.

Another thing that was bringing me down was my appearance and boundaries caused by the chair. Sitting at 4 ft. tall being constantly looked down on has sparked a lot of insecurities. All I could focus on were my imperfections and the downsides of my chair. The first two years I loved my chair; it was like constantly riding a little bumper car while everyone else had to walk. Instead of having that mentality, I could only think about the limitations that stairs brought me. I despise stairs. Stairs can suck my left and right nuts both raw. The rawness wouldn’t even bother me because I can’t feel them.

The final thing I learned was that down times WILL come. They’re inevitable, but it’s okay because everyone deals with them on occasion. I’m not alone.

Back to tennis for a bit. Tennis doesn’t only bring the excitement in playing tennis. Weekends spent at a tennis tournament are constant reminders of not being alone. Players surround themselves with people from all over the world that are in the same boat, and it’s a wonderful thing. Not everyone there has spinal cord injuries, but most find themselves in a wheelchair every day, and ALL constantly deal with some type of disability. Everyone is also in the same boat mentally. They prioritize athleticism by taking three/four day weekends out of their lives to go play tennis tournaments. They are open about their down thoughts, and help each other surpass them. They enjoy life, and want you to as well.

Quick update on tennis: I played at the U.S. Open in St. Louis, which was incredible because I saw the top two players in the world, who made me want to get into tennis in the first place; Shingo (JPN) and Houdet (FRN). I did not play very well in St. Louis. The only match I won was a singles consolation match, but I had the best experience so far at a tournament. I also played at Hilton Head last weekend. I only played one singles and one doubles match and I lost them both. The singles match was very close; I had match point twice, but it wasn’t my day. I’m finished with tournaments for the season. It was a great first season. I’m glad I moved up to the B division so soon. I learned a ton, and now I’m back to Schroeder for some more strokes.

For now, I’m going to enjoy the rest of this day! Thanks for reading. Year four is gonna be sick. I’m sure of it.

Tennis Strokes and Smokes, Folks

Last weekend I played my first tennis match. Matter a fact, I played four. There have gotta be some leagues out there somewhere, but the only opportunities I’ve heard of have been tournaments… which is fine. I’ll just play me some tournaments. This tournament last week was in Fort Wayne, Indiana. The next tournament I’m probably going to find myself at is in Grand Rapids, Michigan next month. This tournament put me in a great mood. I guess that means I really enjoyed myself. I had been hitting with my able-bodied coach at Schroeder Tennis Center since last October, Brian Dean. Although, I hadn’t yet played a match, and Brian is just an AB (people not in wheelchairs are literally commonly referred to as A.Bs), so I didn’t have many expectations. Now that I know what to expect, I’m pretty amped up about future tournaments.

The tournament went pretty well. I was meeting other paras, which is always very cool for me. I was learning a new side of sports, which was interesting. I was getting the familiar taste of my old competitive self, which was exciting. It wasn’t long before I was – painting the town? Thesaurus.com is telling me “paint the town” is a synonym for enjoy. Didn’t know that… definitely gonna start using it.

I won my first match. I won my second match. The third match was a doubles match and it was my third of the day. My partner and I lost the first set, and I forfeited the match. I straight quit: “Sorry patna.” I was playing like garbage and I didn’t care anymore. I was exhausted, sore, and my skin burned. Definitely packing sunscreen for Grand Rapids. My first two wins also already secured my spot in the singles final Sunday morning. Singles was what I cared most about anyway.

The final match started and I was a little nervous, no lie. I was putting a lot of pressure on myself. I always do that. Just how I operate, I suppose. I was doing the darn thing in the first set, though. Each set is the first person to win six games and I won the first set 6-3. Then I chilled out a little too much. “You got this no problem man, even if he pulls something out his backside and takes set 2, you’ll just take set 3.” Set 2 was a battle royale. We traded each of the first eight games, but he took the last two winning 4-6. The sir then announced on the loud speaker, “Alright ladies and gentleman, we’re going to have ourselves a tie breaker!” Everybody in the large crowd stood up and clapped vigorously. I Definitely recall some whistling. “Sudden Death!!!” the sir finally continued announcing. The crowd gasped for 15 minutes, easy. Even the paras stood up from their chairs for this one. Finally, the sir – alright, I’ll quit messing around. We did only play a tie-breaker though to determine the winner. The first one to 10 points took the chip, the respect, and the bragging rights. I got nervous again, I thought I was going to have a whole set left – plenty of time and room for error to be able to win.

I’m reluctant to even write about the tie-breaker. It was embarrassing. He got the first 6 points on my candy ass. I ended up getting a handful, but he still punished me 4-10 and sent my caramel-apple-candy ass packing. I got runner up in my division, so ya know, not bad, but it almost makes it worse. It’s like getting a B+. I hate B+(s).

Nah well, I had a good time and I did okay, so I’ll call it a success – Couldn’t upload pics for some reason, but I got some pics on my FB and Instagram – I also had an awesome long weekend with my dude, Alex Marshall. We left for Chicago on Thursday, then to The Fort at 5:00 am Saturday morning. I needed the bro time. I’m riding this Chicago/Ft Wayne high for as long as I can. I can’t WAIT to make it back to The Fort. Indy is the place to be, man!

Sorry Hoosiers, just fooling. Ohio’s really not much different

…just way better.

On to Year Three

A couple of days ago was the two year anniversary of the accident! My rebirth day! It might seem odd to some people that I get so excited about this day. I’m sure some of you are thinking — It’s the day half of his body was paralyzed, and he was permanently confined to a wheelchair. What the hell is he so happy about? — And yeah, things aren’t perfect. But whatever, I’m making it work, and most importantly, I’m still alive! Alive and well, at that! I have been into Roman Atwood’s Youtube channel lately. He posts videos of himself and his crew carrying out public pranks on the streets of Columbus. His “Gas Prank” video was the first one that I saw, and it had me laughing out loud. The other day, I saw that he uploaded another video. It was titled, “My producer got hit by a truck!” It sounded familiar, so I was sure to check it out. Well some of it. It was really long, so I skipped to the part where he meets his producer at the hospital. He had some road rash and a few broken ribs (also familiar). Then I heard him say that he was hit at 35 mph and thrown 20 feet. Roman made a face, and said, “35 miles per hour? 20 feet??” He immediately talked about how lucky he was to be alive. In the couple of minutes that I watched, I heard him say it about three more times… Okay I have a few things to say about this.

1. He is lucky to be alive! That’s a big hit being thrown 20 feet on the pavement. And if I can say that honestly about him, what does that mean there is to say about me? This example alone should give you a much better idea of why I get so pumped on these anniversaries.

2. The driver that hit me claimed, under oath, that he was traveling at 25 mph. I was thrown 176 feet. It was measured at the scene of the accident. So, that means… wait… According to my T.I. 83 calculator, supposedly, the guy who hit Roman’s producer was traveling at 1.4x the speed that I was hit. Yet, I was thrown 8.8x further… Yeah, something’s telling me that my lawyer and I got had. Big time.

3. I’m a military tank.

Roman’s video came at the perfect time. It was just a couple of days before my anny, and it reminded me of just how lucky I was/am. I think it helped me better enjoy my day on Monday. Since it wasn’t on the weekend this year, I didn’t throw any parties. The day was pretty laid back, but it was nice and filled with a lot of happiness. It was an emotional and heart wrenching day, and although I wasn’t able to cry this year, I got close a couple of times, which was good enough for me. Monday’s a busy day for everybody, so I didn’t have a whole lot of free time on my hands. My family and a couple of my close friends were able to go to my favorite restaurant, Sake (pictured above), which was a great time. And many thanks to everyone that reached out to me. You made that day more special for me.

I thought a lot about the impact that would have been made if things went differently. My family and close friends (less than 100) would have been torn up, that’s for sure. And some general friends/acquaintances (less than 500) also would have been torn up, but for a limited amount of time. There are over 7.1 billion people in the world. That means only about 0.000008% of the population would have been effected at all. With maybe a tiny bit more ever even hearing about it. I’m sure that would be a rough fact for anybody to swallow. But… things didn’t go differently. That WOULD have been the case, but I’m still here. There is still time for me to increase that percentage. Matter a fact, anybody that ever reads this still has time to increase THEIR percentage. On a bigger scale, everyone will have their own unique answer for achieving this goal, but on a smaller scale, the answer for everyone is virtually the same. And that is to gain respect from others. After all, unless people (disregarding family) have some kind of respect for you, they most likely don’t care about you. So as you keep your eyes and ears open for your bigger answer, start small by being caring to the people you interact with on a daily basis. Make sure you will be missed whenever your time comes.

 

Hey Girl

I’ve been wanting to make a comeback for awhile now, but I haven’t found the time. I wanted to end a great weekend on a great note with a little dabbling on my keyboard.

I got a little poker in on Friday with some good people. Hanging out with those guys, playing some hold em, and drinking a few beers was a lot of fun. And even though I lost 40 bucks, I almost lost only 20, so it wasn’t so bad. Then on Saturday my beautiful cousin, Amanda got married and I had one of the best nights of 2014.

Some big things have gone down in my life recently. I returned to Cleveland over the summer to repeat my internship with Parker Hannifin. I did more marketing work and, on top of that, got to finally use Indego (exoskeleton). That took some getting used to. Walking, but not feeling your feet hit the floor after each step is a wild feeling / lack of feeling. I started to get the hang of it, but I didn’t have nearly enough time to prepare for shows as the demo star. Parker does not employ any PTs on site, and the engineers have more important things to do than hold my hand, as I try to learn how to walk. They’re too busy having doctorate degrees and talking about quantom thermal energy and shit. So I wasn’t able to get my face printed in magazines and posted on websites this summer, but hopefully next summer.

After my internship, I started my seven (and a halfth?) semester of school. But not at Miami, I’m now going to Wright State University. Miami is a great college and I’m glad I was there for the time that I was, but I felt like my time was up in Oxford. It was time to move on. I think I made the right decision. It has taken a lot of adjusting, but that’s to be expected, and I think it’s already becoming more normal than it is abnormal. Living off campus is really allowing me to keep my priorities straight. I’m gonna spank my classes this semester. Well I guess you can’t really spank a class, so I’ll spank my professors. And I guess that doesn’t allude that I would do well in a class, but that’s what I’m trying to say.

And now, hunterheck.com followers and shit givers, for what I’m personally most excited about. My tennis wheelchair came in about two weeks ago! I have known that I wanted to order one for about six months now, and finally got around to ordering it sometime mid summer. I’ve been asked by many, many people what the difference is between an everyday chair and a tennis chair. Understandably so, I mean they’re both wheelchairs. They can’t be very different, right? WRONG. The difference is uncanny. It’s mystifying. Okay, I’ll chill, but these are the differences. My tennis chair is one inch narrower than my everyday chair, has 20 degrees camber (tilt in the rear wheels), very short back, and a third caster wheel in the back to prevent myself from flipping over backwards. And maybe that doesn’t seem like much of a difference, but to a wheelchair user, it’s huge. I’m borderline obsessed with the chair. Thus far, I’ve only had two tennis lessons. But starting this week, I’ll be at the tennis center taking lessons twice a week. Getting in that chair and on the open court, moving at a fast pace, working up a sweat, having sport related goals, and something to push myself / better myself in is unreal. It takes me back! And my chair has a seat belt strap and toe strap. Both click straps that are exactly like snowboard bindings. It’s quite possible that’s what I like the most about the chair.

Oh and one more thing, which I’m slightly hesitant about mentioning because It’s still in the very earliest stage. Over the summer I started writing my book that I’ve mentioned before, and oh my f****** s*** C***** of Nazareth b**** and t****** on an early, muggy afternoon f****** H*** – writing a book is uh, is gonna take awhile! I’ve got two pages down. I’m planning on going through with it because I wouldn’t ever be satisfied with myself if I didn’t. It’s just going to take thousands of hours of writing/thinking. Trying to get a 4.0 in school, become a paralympian, and become the face of Indego doesn’t leave me with a lot of spare time. So I might be 35 (hopefully a lot sooner) by the time I publish this thing, but I’ll get there sooner, or later.

I’d like to make this more of a regular thing again. So maybe one post every two weeks. I’m just thinking out loud though here. Have a good week everybody. If you’re going through some stuff, look on the bright side. Think of how much worse it could be. Keep that chin at 90 pointing up. And kill something this week!