Blog readers, rejoice. You all can breathe a sigh of relief because this post has absolutely, positively NOTHING to do with any of Apple's iDevices. Yep, despite the fact I'm anxiously awaiting next Monday's WWDC 2010 keynote -- during which the new iPhone will be unveiled (er, officially) -- because it means I'll be that much closer to getting my smartphoned life back, this here post is not about anything the techie side of me could orgasm over. What this post IS about, however, is me, although I'm not quite sure of its inspiration. Whatever the reason... I get asked every so often whether or not I'd change things -- meaning, rid myself of my physical disabilities. Like, if some genie sounding like Robin Williams suddenly appeared from a lamp ready to grant me three wishes, would I go back and do it over? Honestly, no. Even though I've been through more drama than a Lifetime Movie of the Week and I'm forever self-conscious about my stutter, the fact is, the experiences I've had over the course of my 28 years on the planet have made me the person I am today. Without them, I wouldn't know the people I know, the people I love, the life I know. And yes, I'll admit that scars remain and I can never forget where I came from, but hey, that's what therapy sessions are for, right? As cheesy as it may sound, my life is light years better now than it ever was, and I really believe I'm a stronger, better person because I was able to overcome so much adversity. I mean, if it weren't for my legal blindness and cerebral palsy, I would've never known Special Education like I do, which in turn, would never allow me the opportunity to shine at my public speaking gigs. And the people. All the speech pathologists and teachers and friends I've made over the years, I never would've known had my mother decided to keep in me in her womb another 3 months like she should've. And I definitely wouldn't have the success I'm having with work and school. Sure, I get pissed sometimes that I'm so vertically challenged (for a guy, at least) or that I just can't hop in my car and go off on an impromptu adventure, but on the bright side, I'm secure in knowing who I am and I'm not afraid to speak in front of large audiences. I'm a skilled writer, fluent in Sign Language, caring to a fault, and can hit a baseball pretty good for a blind guy. All this good (and more) from a person who, given the circumstances, could've very well lived up to the hard knock life stereotype. Felt sorry and never amount to shit. But I never amounted to shit because I AM the shit. I have people around that love me, a great job, I'm getting a great education. I'm doing very, very well, thank you very much. And I'm doing so with a modesty that belies the first sentence of this paragraph. I've persevered and I have my sordid upbringing to thank. It's the way I am and I wouldn't have it any other way.