So, I was putting off sleep one night in high school watching T.V. when I flipped across the TLC network late late at night. I came across a program called "The Boy Whose Skin Fell Off: The Story of Jonny Kennedy". It is about a 36 year old man who documents the last months of his life after living a lifetime through a very painful disease where his skin blisters and falls off at every touch. I imagine it wasn't very highly valued to TLC, them playing it as late-night programming, but it was one of those odd experiences that seem small, but leave a life-long lasting impression on you.
The Boy Whose Skin Fell Off
It is a comedy and it is endearing. I committed that night to memory sooo many years ago and finally watched it again on Youtube recently. I think about it almost every time I come home.
I also rummage through my old computer every time I come home. I used to collect little quotes in high school and write some very poor poetry. Since I can claim maturity now due to a long time lapse, here are some things I like/laugh about from my high school days:
"The only true wisdom consists in knowing that you know nothing." -Anon.
"It isn't the mountains ahead that wear you out, it is the grain of sand in your shoe." -Unknown
"To live is to be slowly born."
"Your current safe boundaries were once unknown frontiers."
The Valence Tree
AN orange tree, its inherent right to share
Affords the owner nothing once it turns to bare.
I came upon a tree of such, a tree of fruit to spare
But the fruit thereon was mixed
One neither good nor bad was rare.
At once in its existence, this tree could profit all
Its fruit was ripe and moist, near beginning of the fall.
But fall had gone and no one saw its valiant pinnacle.
Not one appreciated its craft
Before its good slowly damned to gall.
And if a passerby had seen
This tree, in its ripest scene;
The fruit thereon would've gleaned
A savor for a heart yet keen.
The humble goal was reached, but never once beheld.
No passerby saw the fruit of its christened bough.
The buds have since soured 'fore the plough,
So one naturally assumed the tree, too, was befouled.
The price for its prize in dwindle,
A blithe sapling turns to aged timber.
This perennial tree lingers yet alone,
Fruitless, hopeless, faithless, ungrown.
-Ryan Williams (2001)
DISCLAIMER: I wrote this 9+ years ago. I claim it not as my own. I just thought it was interesting.