I have this uncanny ability to see events transpire milliseconds before they occur. I find it amazing often. When I was young, I would test my surroudings using painful methods that planted many bruises of various colors on my body. Sometimes, these methods included some form of sport item: ski equipment, wetsuit, dirt and street motorcycle, and other various modes of transportation.

Skiing — Eight Years of Age

I began skiing at the early age of eight years old. My Dad was full-blooded Norwegian, had this idea that it was our family that brought skiing to Norway, and chose that all his family would become avid skiers. To his credit, all of us took to skiing like fish to water.

Water and Wetsuit — Ten Years of Age

The ocean was my playground.

Motorcycling — Nineteen Years of Age

Late bloomer or mayhaps ...

I excelled in eighth grade not because I was under the threat of being exported into a private school or military academy but because 8th grade was all about sentence structure. Verbs, nouns, and all their pieces and parts, how they all fit to make a sentence readable or fall apart into confusion.

I finally told Richard the truth why I’m so sad this past friday night after our battle. This past friday night marked twelve years later from March 16, 1995, followed by the next day of March 17, 1995. That date hold any meaning for you Mom? Like my Dad all those years of my life, to show love means hurting first. What an odd expression of love, contempt first. The day that broke my back, March 10, 2000, was one week before my fifth anniversary.

I remain unhappy due to one simple detail: I am childless. I don’t expect anyone with a child to understand that word or its meaning. It is a fact of my life and I don’t need your pity or sympathy. You want me to be happy, I’m telling you up front, honestly, it is impossible.