Follow the law, follow the law

Meth dealer. Bank robber. Stripper. Oh, the things I could be if only I had independence!

It’s hard to be a rebellious risk-taker when you’re physically disabled. My parents encourage me to do as much as possible, but their main concern will always be my safety. Of course it will. They’ve been taking care of me forever. If you spend 25 years building a house, when you eventually move in you’ll hesitate to light a candle in there.

I’m not complaining: I’m naturally cautious. But I don’t want to become so cautious that it makes me boring. Cue a new carer. A big attribute I like in a carer is a willingness to push me into new situations I would otherwise likely avoid.

There are always going to be limits, though. When it’s fun vs danger, the carer must think safety-first. When it’s fun vs the law, the law will always win.

Calm down sheriff, I didn’t say I want to break the law. I’m just saying it’d be nice to have the opportunity, the choice, that’s all. When you have a carer, you don’t want to screw him out of a job by doing something crazy, and likewise he probably wants to maintain his career in care.

Give it 100 years and our world will be so liberal that people will be viewing some of our current laws and taboos with confusion, maybe mockery. I’m trying to remain vague and mysterious in this post, but we could all be enjoying so much more freedom.

But there are many ways to enjoy life. You don’t have to kill in order to have fun, you know. Seriously, put the knife down; you’re making me jealous.