Sunday, March 31, 2013

Discovery: New Region of the Brain

Some Indian company called Ceylon Support has located an entirely new and heretofore unnoticed region of the brain recently.  It was immediately dubbed, "Gullibus Uninterruptus."  The Gullibus Uninterruptus is located behind the frontal lobe and slightly to the right of the right temporal lobe.  Scientists say that we've missed it up until now because the region existed in the shadows of the executive part of the brain.

The function of Gullibus Uninterruptus is to separate the unlucky and the dumb from the herd of ever-evolving life on the planet.  This has some specific evolutionary advantages.  For one, it will put all telemarketing scams, Nigerian scams, and politicians out of work by the year 2099.  The year 3000 will bring on a new millenium of peaceful co-existence as humans merge more and more with their technological machinery.  Stuff that we find so essential to our lives today will be our lives by 3000.  Glory!

I received a test for Gullibus Uninterruptus the other day.  Ceylon Support has been interested in studying who in the population has active Gullibi Uninterrupti and who doesn't.  I am happy to report that the results of my test are in.  My Gullibus Uninterruptus-- although once active during the initial couple of years of recovery from brain damage-- is now happily and permanently retired.  Although it is reported that the Gullibus Uninterruptus can be activated again by periods of prolonged ignorance of evidence and/or denial of the same, it is highly unlikely that mine will be re-activated in this lifetime.  When the man from Ceylon Support found this to be my case, he was butthurt.  He had to reach his quota of 1000 people with developed Gullibi Uninterrupti in order to get paid his daily wage.

This is how things went during my test:

Hello, may I please speak to the madam of the house?

She's not here.

Oh, well I can talk with you.  I am from Ceylon Support and I understand that your computer has not been getting the Microsoft Updates.

[What followed was several minutes of me irritating the tester, claiming that I could not understand him].

Your computer has not been getting the Microsoft Updates.

Hold on there.  What.  Is.  My.  Name?

I can give you the registered name of my company and my phone number-- [speeding up his words considerably.  I've learned during my recovery from this t.b.i. thing that other people speeding up their words generally means they are trying to activate my Gullibus Uninterruptus].

Excuse me.  What.  Is.  My.  Name?

My registered--

Uh, no.  Not interested.  Good-bye.      

sapphoq healing t.b.i. 

Tuesday, March 26, 2013


I am here and not-here in this space outside of time and distance engaged in a fight for my life as I have come to know it.

The mountains rise up within me sanctifying this sacred space.

The winds rise up within me sanctifying this sacred space.

The wild fires rise up within me sanctifying this sacred space.

The oceans rise up within me sanctifying this sacred space. 

The essences of many beings rises up within me sanctifying this sacred space.  

My own true self dances within and without this circle that I have declared to be sacred and incomplete.

I remember those who have come before me seeking sanctuary and finding none.

I remember those who will come after me seeking sanctuary and finding none.

I remember those who are here and not-here in this space outside of time and distance seeking sanctuary and finding none.

I remember those who have died, are dieing, and will die knowing that sanctuary is created within and without this communion of Other.

We are here and not-here in this space outside of time and distance engaged in a fight for our lives as we have come to know it.

We are the Other.  We create sanctuary.  Together we are beautiful and strong.

sapphoq healing t.b.i.



Sunday, March 24, 2013

The Case Speaks

I too have a dream.  It is not such a grand dream perhaps but it is my dream.  This dream came out of my damaged brain.  It is my dream and it does not require you to break into it, analyze it, use it for fodder for your mental masturbations, and then service plan it to death.

No.  This dream that I have is my dream.  I own it.  Not you.  This is my dream.  Not yours.  Not yours to direct, encourage, masticate, or massage into some semblance of what you refer to as normalcy.

I, me, the ego that recognizes me, my own self.  Too, also.  Have, tener, hold, hold on to, gave birth to, denoting ownership of, holding as an intrinsic part of my own true self.  A, an article, one, indicating the subject.  Dream, starstuff, glitter, shine, goal, a journey, a road, a suitcase, a song.  I too have a dream.

There is no you in my dream.  There is no burden of responsibility, state funding, meetings, reports, evaluations, demands, manuals in this which is my dream.  There is no role modeling, teaching, constructive criticism, practicing, rehearsal in my dream.  Get out.

sapphoq healing t.b.i.  

Sunday, March 17, 2013

When I Die

When I die-- because I will-- I will not have any consciousness.  My tired damaged brain will be released into nothingness.  I will cease to exist.  I will simply not be.

When I die, I do not want a fancy funeral with flowers and fakery and make-up and clothing that I never would have worn when I was among the living.  None of this will matter to me after I am dead.  Still, there is something about The Great Lie that has become the burial industry that repulses me.  I don't want people to contribute to it on my behalf after I am dead.

When I die, after the transplant teams are done harvesting whatever organs-- including but not limited to my skin-- that are useful; and the medical students have done practicing how to do an autopsy or learning anatomy from my corpse, I want to be thrown into the general heap of discarded hulls and given a general burning.  If any of the crazy ones loved ones in my family insist on anything more, then I want to be cremated and my ashes either scattered in Mother Ocean as fish food or buried in the woods that I love with no markers.

After I am dead, I do not want some priest or minister or rabbi or religious folk whose congregation I have never attended extol my supposed virtues with words better wasted on others.  After I am dead, if my body must be dressed before burning then some old clothes will do just fine.  Better yet, burn me naked.  Take the clothes you would have dressed me in and donate them to someone in need of them.  Take the flowers you would have surrounded my remains with and give them to someone you love who is still alive.  Take the money you would have spent on The Great Lie and use it for something that matters.  Take your memories of what I have stood for in this life and use them to propel yourself into social action of some sort or another.

After I am dead, you will still be living.  So live, remember, don't look back.

sapphoq healing t.b.i.

Wednesday, March 06, 2013

It's My Brain, Stupid

You should be satisfied.  You should be satisfied by the crumbs we offer you as we hide behind our desks eating cake.

You should be mesmerized.  You should be mesmerized by the amount of names of big wigs in the field that we toss around in your presence as we engage in mental masturbation in public with no shame.

You should be enthusiastic.  You should be enthusiastic about cleaning up kitten shit and then being tested to see if you can remember to initial a place in the notebook where you gave the sick kitten medicine.
Checking my totem.

You should be grateful.  You should be grateful when we offer to get you a ripoff "job" assembling products at home.

You should be motivated.  You should be motivated by the idea of listening to a thousand call-in center conversations and transferring them into text.

You should be awestruck.  You should be awestruck  because we were staff at a community residence for individuals with a traumatic brain injury.

sapphoq healing traumatic brain injury says: This is Briella.  Who is Briella, you say?  It's my brain, stupid.  But not just and only my fractured brain.  My fractured dreams.  My fractured life.  This is my obsession.  Not to start over again at the bottom rung with your  sour vomitus directions about how to engage in faux-normality.  Your goals are not my goals.  If you want me to invest in something, then give me something to invest in.  If you are not going to help me, then don't hinder me.  Just get out of my way.   I am done with your platitudes.  Your handouts are poisonous.  This is my time to shine.  Get off of the stage.