It’s a couple of days past National PTSD Awareness Day, but I wanted to make this post before it slips away (Yes I just made a paratrooper pun). This comic is a collab effort between the Public Insight Network, Symbolia, and WBUR radio station. It briefly tackles the topic of PTSD, and it serves as a reminder that not all service-related injuries are physical.
Here’s a page of this short comic:
And here’s the link: Invisible Injury: Beyond PTSD [illustrated story]
I’m a piss-poor planner when I’m the sole individual affected by my decisions. I have a decent grasp on planning and time management when it is academically or professionally necessary, but that part of me goes to sleep when I’m left to my own devices. This is a life-long problem, and it’s something that I’ll have to continuously monitor throughout my life.
Having said that, I’ve done very little since my freshman year ended. I have this glorious list of things I wanted to accomplish:
- Assist my professor in his post-thesis research.
- Experiment with and complete several functional, Arduino-based devices.
- Go through most of Engineering Mathematics and The Manga guide to Calculus.
- Teach myself some Python programming language.
- Complete several tomahawks that I began modifying a year ago.
- Install a solar panel for my backyard.
- Finish reading A Song of Ice and Fire and some Ender’s Game books.
- Do some wilderness backpacking and photography around the White Mountains.
The school year ended as rough as it could possibly get: I took one of my finals with a kickass 102° F temperature. I even brought a thermometer into the final in case I started wigging out in the middle of the exam. The day after I knocked out my last final at 101° F. From there I started working full time, and got super sick. One month later and I’m still recovering from the ordeal.
By now I’ve wasted a huge chunk of my summer. Now that I feel a little better, it’s time to knock out a few items on this list.
I mean, it even ruined my fucking childhood faster than Michael Bay did.
And then I’ll wake up for this summer research I so eagerly agreed upon.
And after a good 7-8 years of abuse the handle on my tomahawk finally snapped. I’m actually surprised that this tomahawk stayed intact for so long. I only abuse the hell out of it every year. The head is pitted with rust and chipped paint, and the handle started splitting from all the horrible tosses it had to endure. Looks like if you don’t keep up with practice, you lose the touch. After a few more throws the handle splintered apart. I ended up tossing it into the fire-pit nearby. This only means two things: Craft a new handle, and buy a not-so-shitty hatchet. That way I’ll have a nicer one for the real work and keep the shitty one to toss.
The days are filled with random BBQs and off the wall moments you would only find in a dysfunctional household. Dogs dart around the yard as family members garden, drink, film family videos, and watch as others run around haphazardly with sharp swords. The ones holding the swords are usually the ones involved in the drinking.
These summer BBQ days are usually one of the few times that the family gets together for a meal. Our schedules are sporadic to the point where everyone’s dinnertime is different. And yet somehow summer BBQs bring all of us together.
Between all the mayhem of playing with the dogs, tossing tomahawks, riding an ATV and bicycles around the backyard, we find the time to sit as a family and enjoy a meal as a family. Suddenly things don’t seem so dysfunctional.
Then you realize that your grandmother is drinking hard Chinese liquor from a pirate shotglass.