I'm not what you're looking for.

I heal fast. Our mileage varies.

Some folk have ‘Resting Bitch Face.’ Naturally, I respond with Cheerful Countenance. A Never Complainer, I’m blessed. Life is hectic.

Who said it was supposed to be easy? Eat or be eaten. Adapt or die. I happily take it with a snicker and smile.

Anger is useless against the unchangeable. Don’t forget– but never dwell on– the past. Look on the bright side. Always see the smiley faces in headlights.

Positive Distraction Dust. (Headlight out? Nah! Cutie’s winkin’ atcha!)

Despite two hip replacements and a traumatic brain injury requiring more hardware– I am still a fit, young man. On my frequent, non-ER jaunts to the hospital, nurses sometimes make a special face at me and my charts.

“A curious cat,” one called me. A Meaningful Glance followed and we sincerely chuckled. (Laughter does help, though not cure.)

I was known as “Short Fry” as a kid. I loved it. I still use it when talking to myself, referring to my elementary and competitive, base nature. I wrote a series on blindness in Fourth Grade. From “Effects on Life,” Dated March 3, 1997– two months shy of my tenth birthday:

“𝐵𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑦𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑔𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚. 𝑀𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑛, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑒𝑠, 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑢𝑠𝑒. 𝐵𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑏𝑒 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑦 𝑖𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑠. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑑, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝑏𝑒. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜 𝑑𝑖𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛.

𝐼𝑛 𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝 𝑎 𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛, 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑑𝑜𝑜𝑟𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑎𝑏𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑢𝑡. 𝐷𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑟𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑑 𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛’𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑑𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝐼𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑠𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑜 𝑑𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝑑𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚. 𝑆ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚 𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑙𝑢𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑠𝑤𝑖𝑡𝑐ℎ. 𝐷𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑑 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 “𝑠𝑒𝑒.”‘

I dress right.

I dress right in the US. One screw. A couple years later, the other hip got three. How do I add it all up in my Broken Bone count?

Reading that after nearly thirty years brought joy and a misty discharge from my eyes. My bubbly, ever-positive nature was present even then. 

Teacher Evan gives Short Fry a proud Atta-Boy Hug and an A+++. (So does Patient Evan.)

I’m thrilled, relieved to know I’ve always had this mindset: Life is whatever you make of it. Don’t bitch. Make it happy. After my coma, I forgot who my family was; what language to speak; how to walk several times; and everyone forgets where they live often enough to require an emergency hotline, yeah?…But I never had to relearn my nature.

Never add ammunition to Hardship. I still have it far better than most. I never let anything bother me. That and risk-aversion simply aren’t hardwired into me. (Not always advantageously.) There’s nothing to gain from the casual chagrin I see in others.

Naturally being chipper helps keep every derailment in perspective. There’s always something to learn, appreciate or laugh at. (Or make fun of. Mockery certainly provides buoyancy for this lost soul.) 

I sprinkle my own Distraction Dust: Put a smirk under those scars. Even if, and especially when nothing’s going your way, there’s always a seed of satisfaction there. I always find positive patterns, even if they spiral down horrifying paths.

(No one can insult me better than I can. My sincere self-effacement is therapeutic and provides great material.)

I’m a currently-clean, though heavily medicated, substance-abusing, brain-damaged epileptic. I have appointments with my neurologist and a team of psychiatrists, therapists and others in my calendar. I live with my parents. I detest my part-time gig at an elementary school. It ends soon. What next? I’m severely, acutely depressed, served with a smile. I’m currently focused on my online presence to find work, which direly needs updating. That alone may change things.

Ev in Switzerland, 2008.

Me in Chur, Switzerland, in ’08. A rare, honest smile from me in a photo. I’m always smilin’. I just hate posing.

^^ From a proofread of the first draft. That last paragraph accidentally, though naturally, ended that way. Seemingly by instinct, I can’t help but add a Bright Side for me to look forward to this week. I’ve put fresh money on the felt. A newer and better edition of me. Each day, a fresh restart of System Ev.

 Relentless, each morning comes groggy and dour, same as every other. But that last Evan was drained, mere practice for the next round. (Not the last.) My finished product simply needs more refinement. I may have lost, but I don’t have to like it.

Just as Short Fry said, this is no different than any other person. 

Onward. Upward. Always.