About Me - Page 1

Just like Ozzy Osborne, I don't remember the early 80s… probably because I was born in 1983. However, I'm told that I was diagnosed with Spinal Muscular Atrophy when I was roughly 1 year old.

My disease was never adequately explained to me, therefore, everything that I know is either from personal experience, or Google. With that said, I will attempt to explain it to you as best as I can, and as simply as I can. Spinal Muscular Atrophy is a neuromuscular disease that, essentially, survives by eating the cells in your body that carry the signal from your brain to your muscles.

What that means is, that, when kids reach the age where they're supposed to start crawling and shoving random eating utensils into electrical outlets, I fell over like Lindsay Lohan at… any party. Imagine, if you will, a 60 W lightbulb trying to draw the appropriate amount of power from an outlet that can only supply 10 W. The light *will* turn on but it will be very, very weak.

If I confused you with the appliance analogies, I apologize. It's just that, in the past, people have simply responded best to those so I've continue to use them. Frankly, I know nothing about electricity. To me, AC/DC is a band that Shook Me All Night Long.

People often ask me why do I write? Meaning, what was the catalyst in my life that would inevitably decide which career path that would take... And, honestly, I believe that I have my disease to thank for that.

You see, I went to public school for the tenure of my youth and took all of the regular classes (which, to my understanding, is rare for someone with any kind of disability) but, after a few months of duct taping a hockey stick to my wheelchair so that I could participate in gym class, I think the teachers started to get scared and removed me from gym class; instead, placing me in computer lab. Since I was the only person in the classroom for awhile, I had nothing to do but play around. This was back in the early 90s, and there really were no video games on the computer, so I was left with no alternative but to utilize my imagination.

At first, I would guarantee that my work was miserable to read but... Who cares? I was, like, seven years old… it was going to be chicken scratch no matter what I did.

The first thing that I can ever remember writing was something about a computer that came to life and ended up getting separated from its owner. In retrospect, it sounds kind of like the plot to Toy Story.

One event that happened in my life that could have slaughtered my writing career when I was still just a young fledgling was a visit to the hospital.

I was eight years old... it was Valentine's Day. My memories leading up to the hospitalization are a bit hazy but I do know that I had been sick with some kind of mysterious chest cold for weeks. I can remember being in my pediatrician's office... and then waking up in the hospital on an intubator. If you're not sure what that is, watch ER sometime. They like to pretend to do it on there. The easy explanation is that they shoved a tube down my throat and into my lungs so that a machine could breathe for me.

It's probably best that I don't remember every last moment, and I won't go into excruciatingly vivid detail of the things that I do remember. However, just to give you a little insight into the inner workings of my psyche, I will say that things were done to me that should never be done to an eight-year-old child.

Honestly, I think that that was the last time I was a child. Frankly, when you hear a doctor telling the nurse that she shouldn't expect you to live to see morning, you grow up relatively fast.

To this day, no one knows why I was in the hospital. There are more question marks on my medical records then that late-night millionaire guy's suit jacket.

When I was about 9 or 10 years old, I got my first computer in the house. I spent every night on that thing for months, cranking out a sequel to Disney's Aladdin, my then favorite movie... who am I kidding? I still love it. (For the record, Return of Jafar is not written by me). People seemed to respond well to that little bit of fan fiction but I can't remember many people other than my parents reading it. In December of 96, I got my first modem and signed up with AOL. It took me a little bit to get accustomed to people other than me typing the words on my computer but, once I got used to it, I gravitated towards role-playing. Seriously, a textbased video game that lets me play as any character in my imagination... Who didn't see that coming? I was obsessed with that for about four years.

And, then... I met someone whose parents are very prominent in the field of animation. Spending time with her was enriching. It was almost like a collegiate experience through osmosis. Being around all of that creative energy and getting to see people who took the art form seriously really encouraged me to do the same.

Quentin Tarantino once said that he never went to film school, he went to films. The same could be said for me. I couldn't afford film school, and the nurse, and the wheelchair accessible van, and all of the other things that I would need to maintain my health. So, instead, I began watching anything and everything that I could. I didn't care if it was the end credits of an old movie, or audio commentary on a brand-new DVD. Studying became my religion. I studied movies, cartoons, sitcoms, video games... You name it, I studied it.

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