1/16/07: After graduating from the University of Oregon in August, I moved back to California and made the decision to attend graduate school. I considered several different programs, including a Masters in Business, PhD in Spanish, and a law degree. I chose law for several reasons. Many of my friends and family had recommended and told me I'd be good at it. It is a great body of knowledge that can be applied to almost any field, and it pays well enough to allow me financial independence. Today's job market is as competitive as I can remember. Having a law degree will give me greater flexibility and more options as I continue building my life and recovering from my injury. It could also be something I combine with my advocacy efforts. The law application process was extensive and required a lot of thought. I had no shortage of things to put on my resume and discuss in my personal statement, but constructing a coherent and accurate narrative was challenging. It allowed me to reflect on all that I've done since my injury, and all that I accomplished before. My life's axis is the accident that caused my paralysis. While that momentous day led me down roads I never imagined, at my core I'm the same person I was. Going to law school would have been challenging before my injury, but I'm no less able to excel at it today. Indeed, my experiences the last four years are unparalleled and have fostered wisdom, toughness, patience and humility, all of which will serve me well in law. This is one of the coldest Oregon winters I can remember. I leave for San Diego tomorrow and am looking forward to warmer weather. Cold temperatures cause my body to tense up, which exacerbates my muscle spasms. As a result I experience more pain throughout the day. In San Diego I'll be involved in intensive physical workouts for the first time in six months. Finishing my undergraduate degree and applying to law school have kept my mind sharp and occupied, but my body is neglected. Awakenings Health Institute is getting a new gait-trainer like the one I used in Chicago in 2003. I'm optimistic that it will improve my walking and overall function, which should also decrease my spasms. I'll have trainers working one-on-one with me and will continue receiving acupuncture and massage. I have more work to do on scholarship applications but after that I'm looking forward to enjoying myself before I go back to school.
10/10/05: As many of you already know, I spent this summer living in Eugene, attending classes at the University of Oregon. The change of scenery came at a crucial time for me. I had grown increasingly tired of the daily grind at Project Walk. After two years of rehab, such fatigue was bound to happen. In California I didn't have any daily activities aside from exercise. Such a narrow focus wore on me mentally as I continued to grow after the accident. As I mentioned over a year ago, “I need an outlet.” I thought that returning to Eugene might be emotional for me. It was not. I drove by the exact site of my accident at least once a week with little more than a brief acknowledgement of what happened. I feel a detachment from the event, in part because I don't remember it, but also, I realized, because I've grown beyond it in the last two and a half years. The burden of all that I lost on that fateful day is not as heavy to carry around anymore. All the regret that plagued me the first couple years—of vanished opportunity and wasted time—is something I've learned not to dwell on. Before my accident, my college years were often filled with anxiety and confusion. After gaining a wealth of experience in Africa and the forests of the Northwest, I felt displaced, unhappy and alone at the university. Upon my return to Eugene, the familiar sites and sounds of my former life provoked these feelings of old, but they were mere nostalgia, which I let slip away like a shirt that no longer fits. This summer I felt privileged to be in school. Having completed the general education requirements for my undergraduate degree I was able to take classes exclusively towards my Spanish major. After so much time off from speaking, reading, or writing the language, I was unsure of how quickly I would pick it up again. To my pleasant surprise, my skills were still intact, and my vigor for the subject material was ardent as ever. I earned a 4.2 G.P.A. while studying 19 th and 20 th century Spanish language literature. My main focus was on the artistic period that preceded the Spanish Civil War. Most notable from this time were the writer Federico Garcìa Lorca, the painter Salvador Dalì, and the film director Luìs Buñuel. Their friendship helped spur avant-gardism as well as the surrealist movement in Spain, which placed an emphasis on the subconscious and non-linear trains of thought. As with every creative outpouring, Spain's young artists were bold in their expression, taking never before seen risks, overturning expectation and expanding the human conscience worldwide. In many ways, reading tales of their experimentation galvanized my own, as I stepped outside the world of SCI for the first extended period of time since my accident. In class and around new people I was at first unsure of how much to divulge about my injury. I am naturally shy and unassuming, and I tended towards reticence when it came to bringing up the facts of my accident. This was, however, alienating, as I found that people were curious but reluctant to ask questions about the obvious, for fear of prying. As time wore on I became accustomed to initiating talk about my injury, the accident, and answering people's questions. I find that being in a chair is like being on a stage. Whether you like it or not, attention is focused on you when you stand out from the crowd. Unlike a stage, you have no control over this fact, unless you want to stay at home every day. I'd like to think that my studies in acting have helped me deal with this. Indeed, I sometimes relish the fact that I stand apart from everyone else. Because of the chair my appearance can be unsettling to people that don't know me. Having this knowledge allows me the pleasure of subverting their expectations about me. I can never know what someone's first impression of me is, but I've learned to enjoy myself as I relate my uniqueness from and similarity to people. In this way I think it is interesting that while seeking an outlet, I've cultivated an inlet. Despite my new levels of comfort, there are still days when I don't feel up to negotiating the baggage that goes along with being in a chair; including dealing with people who are unsure of how to behave around me. Sometimes I want to get it out of the way, walk into a crowded room for the first time and announce, “I am a person, just like everyone else!” Interacting with strangers—people who've never been around someone in a wheelchair—is something that must be done on a daily basis. In this sense being away from the world of SCI for a summer was illuminating. It forced me to grow and mature, and in many ways allowed me to come into my own being post-injury. While I'd already made tremendous gains towards physical independence, this latest incision on the umbilical cord of my new life fostered mental fortitude and autonomy. Now I am back in California. Yet again I find myself in a new situation. I am living in a new house, with a new roommate, and am on a different schedule this fall than last. I am trying to strike up a balance between my intellectual pursuits from the summer, and the physical exercise that my body still requires. Having a gym to work out at, an aide to assist and guide me, and a community of SCI persons to relate with is invaluable. However, the time restraints, and more than anything the financial constraints that it places upon my life, are great. This year I am hoping to get a membership at a gym called Awakenings Health Institute, started by two women who used to work for Project Walk and who now make a living treating all neurological injuries. It is not in my budget to pay for one-on-one training right now, but having gone to Project Walk for over a year and been involved in exercise routines since my injury, I feel that I have the knowledge base to at least partially attend to my body on my own. As time has gone on, other priorities have moved to the forefront. I need to become self-supporting so that I can get off of Social Security and Medicaid. First and foremost, I must finish my degree. This fall I'm taking an online class through the University of Oregon, as well as a web design class from Cal State San Marcos. I hope to take creative control of my website in the New Year. In January I plan to take several Spanish courses from CSU San Marcos, which I will transfer towards my degree from Oregon. I still plan to graduate next summer. Despite some trepidation about my long-term future, I am excited about the coming year. I try to concentrate on one day at a time—one task, followed by another. Rather than focus on how much time is left or passed, I work in the moment. Like everything in life, it takes practice and lots of patience. I nonetheless move forward. Thanks for watching me as I go, and for helping me make it this far.
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