Sunday night I watched Kill Bill, Volume 2 for the gazillionth time, and for the gazillionth time I envied the strength, power, and pure awesomeness that is The Bride. She may have done very naughty things when she was Bill's girl, but the movies' story begins after all that. Now, she uses her powers for Good. Well, maybe not Good, but those people had that shit coming to them. She's Bad. Ass.
Here's the thing - much as I'd like to be that Bad Ass myself, I know you don't get to be that kind of Warrior without surviving some really shitty things in your life first. I'm not talking about I Didn't Have Money for a Swatch Watch Shitty or The Kids Made Fun of Me Shitty. I'm talking Shitty Shitty. No one is just born with the ability to calm themselves down and punch their way out of a coffin that's been buried six feet under without having first endured some Cruel Tutelage of Pai Mei which, in the movie, appears to be Pretty Shitty. Rewarding, yes, but shitty nonetheless. Not even Pai Mei was born that way. You know that fucker had it rough growing up. Rough and Shitty.
Now - when people ask about my MS, I can tell them I'm worse off than some but better off than others. Like anyone else, with or without a chronic illness, I have my good days and bad.
If I talk about my childhood I can say the same. I was worse off than many and better off than others. I have no need to ask for a different life than the one I have or had - it's all made me the person I am - my own kind of Warrior. Maybe not Uma Thurman Bride-like Warrior, but I like my Warrior anyway. In fact I happen to adore her. She cracks my shit up.
The book I was reading this Sunday was Jeannette Walls' The Glass Castle. Walls and her family lived a nomadic life of freedom with parents who taught her so much about math, science, art, nature, and literature that it's hard to not envy that part of her life. And yet, Holy Crap, what she and her brother and sisters endured...
I'll bet she's one Hell of a Warrior.
Castles Made of Sand
Here's the thing - much as I'd like to be that Bad Ass myself, I know you don't get to be that kind of Warrior without surviving some really shitty things in your life first. I'm not talking about I Didn't Have Money for a Swatch Watch Shitty or The Kids Made Fun of Me Shitty. I'm talking Shitty Shitty. No one is just born with the ability to calm themselves down and punch their way out of a coffin that's been buried six feet under without having first endured some Cruel Tutelage of Pai Mei which, in the movie, appears to be Pretty Shitty. Rewarding, yes, but shitty nonetheless. Not even Pai Mei was born that way. You know that fucker had it rough growing up. Rough and Shitty.
Now - when people ask about my MS, I can tell them I'm worse off than some but better off than others. Like anyone else, with or without a chronic illness, I have my good days and bad.
If I talk about my childhood I can say the same. I was worse off than many and better off than others. I have no need to ask for a different life than the one I have or had - it's all made me the person I am - my own kind of Warrior. Maybe not Uma Thurman Bride-like Warrior, but I like my Warrior anyway. In fact I happen to adore her. She cracks my shit up.
The book I was reading this Sunday was Jeannette Walls' The Glass Castle. Walls and her family lived a nomadic life of freedom with parents who taught her so much about math, science, art, nature, and literature that it's hard to not envy that part of her life. And yet, Holy Crap, what she and her brother and sisters endured...
I'll bet she's one Hell of a Warrior.
Castles Made of Sand
Seven times down
Eight times up.
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