Beck, The Beach, Stefanie, and My Knee

A long time ago, when I was working for the good old video game company, I used to take long walks on the beach after work. I was miserable - Stefanie had just kicked me out of her life after the kidnapping, and I was working on well-intentioned but mediocre video game under a well-intentioned but mediocre manager. I even got hit by a car while crossing the street coming into work.

On a weekend.

It was a lonely and unfulfilling time, to say the least.

There were only two things I really enjoyed during that era. Beck's album Sea Change on constant repeat (as sampled here, and now you know why I chose that song) and the Santa Monica beach, where my office was located. I remember walking (or limping, as the case may be) up and down the beach, watching a hundred different sunsets, asking when, if ever, my life would truly begin. Each of those walks was a prayer to a dead god - not only did I not have an answer, I wasn't sure one existed.

I often wondered during that time, if and how and when I would be rescued. I had no idea that I would do it myself.

Nowadays, I ask the question, when will my life truly begin? And the answer is always the same: IT BEGINS NOW. And when I answer that question, you can see the angry nine-tailed demon fox that lives inside me, burning behind my eyes.

As for the knee, the doctors said it would never be quite the same - that I would always experience a bit of wobbliness. And they were right, for a time - the knee remained a bit wobbly for over four years - and then I took my first yoga class.

The knee is stronger, more flexible than it ever was. It can do lunges. It can support and balance the weight of my entire body on its own. It can run three miles at a seven minute pace. It serves as a pointed reminder of that time - of the job, the beach, Beck, and Stefanie.

And how I made it through.

And also how - and this is the important part - I cannot and will not go back to any of that.