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=__//BRAIN DROPPINGS SAVED MY LIFE//__ = // Anthony Gonzalez is a junior at the University of Colorado at Boulder. He is majoring in political science and philosophy and has no clue what to do with his future. // media type="file" key="laughIbelieve.mp3" width="240" height="20"

I believe in the power of laughter. When I was fourteen, there was nothing in the world that mattered more to me than skateboarding. Although there were cute girls as far as my horrible vision would allow me to see, my skateboard always topped my priorities. I liked girls but I loved my skateboard.

As the board began to consume my life, my skill level rose tremendously. I was the only kid landing Casper-flips and impossibles. As my skill level rose so did my cockiness.

Holding on to the fin, what skaters call skitching, of a white rusting 1994 Honda civic, while speeding through the suburbs at upwards of 40 miles per hour seemed like a good idea. But before I knew it I was bouncing and rolling on what felt like a trampoline made out of rocks. Once my trampoline ride stopped I knew that my upper body was fucked. Left arm: BROKEN, right shoulder: dislocated, head: concussed.

I left the hospital with a pink cast on my left arm and my right arm in a sling. To add insult to injury three days after leaving the hospital catastrophe struck. For some reason I thought it would be smart to play tackle football with a mass of kids before school started. In a flash the fattest kid in ninth grade got tackled into me and a deafening popping sound filled the air. While lying on my back, a casted mess, I came to two devastating realizations. First my ankle was broken and instead of feeling pain all I could think about was how pissed my mom was going to be when she found out she had to leave work for the second time in three days to visit her dumb-ass son in the hospital. The second realization hurt the most more than the pain of all of my injuries combined, the time has come to say goodbye to my skateboard and hello to a wheelchair.

I will never forget the overwhelming feelings of nothingness that consumed me after sitting in the wheelchair for the first time. It felt like my dog died.

A week after my ankle surgery depression capsized me. “What’s wrong?” my mom asked.

After much hesitation I responded, “the one thing that made me happy, my skateboard, is gone it’s like a pain in my chest that won’t go away.” She assured me I was wrong. We immediately went to the bookstore and came home with, “Brain Droppings” and “Napalm and Silly Putty” books authored by George Carlin.

After reading the first ten pages of brain droppings I was filled with the kind of laughter that makes you second-guess your choice of underwear. I read both of the books cover to cover seven times each, at least, and each page was like a rainstorm filling my emptiness. George Carlin’s humor convinced me there was no reason to be depressed when I could lose myself in laughter. Laughter filled my emptiness and convinced me that life will be ok without my skateboard. I believe in the power of a good laugh.