When I was writing this book, friends kept asking what it was about.  I had only one answer: everything.  They thought it was ridiculous as we shared some laughs, but the joke was on them since I never did reveal the title.

Throughout my childhood, I always had the dream of becoming a cartoonist, but didn’t realize fate would tell a different story when I lost the ability to draw with my hands.  It was only a few years after that I discovered my passion for writing.  I was parking my giant mechanical ass into a mall elevator and lo, this ravishing young lady decided to compliment my perfect skills, probably because I didn’t make road kill out of her.  Of course I wanted to respond cleverly with a hint of smoothness, but instead proclaimed, “Yup!”

I started writing to redeem myself.

With Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy, physical expression isn’t really an option, while being on a ventilator hinders my verbal communication.  I’m only able to speak between each breath, which doesn’t give much time, so having a million reflections and ponderings is quite inevitable.

I entered the world of blogging with great enthusiasm and had a practice run from 2004 to 2006.  I made more of an effort from then on via a personal domain and another blog from a social network.  I didn’t have many readers until a couple years later, the time when I seriously considered getting published.

Ridiculous: The Mindful Nonsense of Ricky’s Brain is a raw and unadulterated anthology of my mind; a satirical look at life, and a voyage through the hardships and despair, along with the craziest, most off-the-wall moments.  But more, it’s a journey of romance.  Turning the pages, you’ll find love letters, romantic philosophies, and stories, both from fairytales and reality.  You’re bound to throw up, either orally or optically.

This book was written for three reasons.  First, I want to make a bigger dent in the world than the one I made at the church building before I die.  Words are more likely to unlock the secrets of immortality as opposed to that green juice my parents drink on a daily basis.  Second, I need to once and for all destroy the make-believe delusions that disabled people are nothing more than clichéd struggle stories for incompetent pedestrians and cripples alike, who rely on strangers for a phony sense of inspiration.  Third, and most importantly, I hope to encourage women to know how beautiful they are for their individual selves and defy the perverse misconceptions that society has brought upon us.

The biggest challenge was articulating myself in a way that didn’t incur sympathy.  It’s frustrating when people insist on feeling sorry for me.  I could understand if castration was involved, but a genetic but not hereditary disease?  While it’s a significant part of my life, I won’t succumb to cheapening my experiences for anything.  I acknowledge without focusing on limitations.

Editing was a killer.  I’m sure I’ve gone through each entry more than a dozen times already.  I used to go overboard with details and often repeat myself, but eventually learned to condense my writings.  It should be noted however, that ‘Message In A Bottle’ remains untouched since the day it was written.  I’d feel dishonest if I changed an encapsulated letter that’s probably still drifting in a lake somewhere, unless it got stuck in a propeller and drowned an innocent person.

In 2008, I went through a bit of writer’s block, yet that year produced several of my favourite pieces.  I’d sometimes feel discouraged before writing an article that was thought to be incredibly daunting, but ended up surprising myself every time.  Prevailing against those obstacles gave me the motivation to persist onward.  And to be honest, the most difficult one I had to write is this stupid introduction.  I usually just run people over by accident and greet them.

As you continue reading, you’ll find it’s in my nature to redefine the things I observe.  I strive to reinvent the old and make them original because what would life be without a little endearing humour?  I’m not a cardboard people, and I refuse to be made of recycled material.  I define myself according to who I am.

Words are funny little things.  They’re an assembly of squiggles and lines that formulate random thoughts and ideas.  I write because there’s too much to say.

Writing this book was an epic adventure.  Thank you for giving me the opportunity to share my ridiculousness.  I hope you enjoy your ride to the loony bin. 😉