Once Upon a KISS Miracle

Hey everyone — Orbit Deen here.

I know I’m a little late with this one, but I wanted to talk about Ace Frehley from the band KISS, who we recently lost. He was one of my favorite musicians of all time.

When I was a kid, KISS was everything. Two of their albums were among the very first records I ever bought with my own money. I can still picture walking into the record store, flipping through the bins, and picking them out—one one month, one the next. That was the beginning of my lifelong love affair with music.

I’m not even sure why KISS hit me the way it did. Maybe it was the sound, maybe the larger-than-life makeup, or maybe it was because of my babysitter, Debbie. She was a KISS fan through and through, and she used to play their albums for me. Before long, I wanted my own—and that was it. I was hooked.

Years later, there was a New Year’s Eve I’ll never forget. At that time, I was walking on crutches and sometimes used a walker, though that night I had my wheelchair with me. There was a guy doing face painting at the event, and I told him I wanted to be Ace Frehley. He painted my face perfectly—the silver, the lightning bolts, the whole thing.

As midnight approached, the music kicked up and the energy in the room started to rise. I decided to stand up, just for a moment, to feel the rhythm of the celebration. The people around me—strangers who didn’t know I could walk a bit—gasped. They thought they were witnessing a KISS-inspired rock-and-roll miracle.

That night stuck with me. Music can make people believe in magic, even for a moment.

Those are my KISS memories.And I’ll always be grateful for them.

From Harmful ‘Cures’ to True Acceptance: A #DisabilityStory #neurodivergent

There’s been a lot of talk lately about disabilities — about causes and cures. Everybody seems to be talking about it.

It made me remember a story from my childhood, when I was at a school for students with disabilities. I had a friend who walked with crutches. One weekend, her mother took her to see a faith healer.

At the end of that weekend, the faith healer told her she was “healed” — and they threw away her crutches. But of course, she still couldn’t walk. So she stumbled around after that weekend, with no crutches, because the healer had thrown them away.

My mom was the one who ended up taking my friend to get new crutches — because her parents truly believed she was healed.

I think about that story a lot, especially now that there’s so much talk about the “reasons” for autism, or cerebral palsy, or other disabilities. I know a lot of people with autism. I work with people with autism. They’re amazing — and people with cerebral palsy are amazing too.

I just want to say this clearly: we don’t need to be cured.There’s nothing wrong with us.We’re awesome just the way we are.

Thank you. 💚

Hey everyone, Orbit Deen here. This story is really close to my heart. My grandfather was the one who introduced me to baseball — and his favorite player was Mookie Betts.

When I moved from Boston to California, we kept talking every day — about life, sports, and especially the Dodgers. Before my grandfather passed, he said something I’ll never forget:

“I can’t come to California to be with you, Michael… but I’m sending Mookie to you.”

Now every time I watch Mookie play, I feel like my grandfather’s right there with me — cheering in spirit.We love baseball. ⚾💙

I was moved from a school for students with disabilities into a school with non-disabled kids — mainstreamed — in sixth grade.It did not go very well at first.

I was bullied a lot when I first got there because I was the “weird kid.”But eventually, after about half a year, the same kids who bullied me became my friends — and they’re still my friends to this day. Friends for life.

One of the reasons we became friends was football.I realized I could play with them. I’d get down out of my wheelchair, off my crutches, and onto the ground. I’d snap the ball to the quarterback, then throw a block or make a tackle — and I was good at it.We became friends over football.

That was also the same year I went to my first high school football game.I was so excited to be there that I swallowed a hot dog the wrong way and started to choke — almost died!

They had to call the police to the stadium, and I was rushed to the hospital.Everyone was so nice to me on the way to the police car — I remember people handing me candy and putting it in my hands.

So yeah, I almost died at that one. I didn’t — obviously.But in a way, football was responsible for the friendships I still have today. It helped me fit in with the rest of America.

But it also almost killed me.So there’s that.

Happy Sunday. 🏈🌭💚

Hey everyone — Orbit Deen here, rocking my Superman shirt today.

I wanted to take a minute to talk about cerebral palsy, which is what I have — and what millions of people around the world live with every single day.

For my entire life, I’ve been trying to describe to people what cerebral palsy actually is. And honestly, I’ve been trying to understand it myself too. A lot of people don’t even know what the word means, or how to pronounce it.

They’ll say, “Wait… what are you talking about? I thought that was communism.”Nope. CP is not communism. 😅

🧠 My Brain and Body: The Odd Couple

Here’s the analogy I came up with.

Having cerebral palsy feels like your brain and your body are roommates — but they’re not really speaking. They live together, but they’re not communicating well.

My brain is the adult in the room — the responsible one.My body? The party animal.

My brain’s like, “Come on, we’ve got stuff to do. Let’s focus. Let’s stay steady.”And my body’s like, “Let’s party, baby!”

They love each other, but they’re not good at coordination. They’re like family who only talk on holidays — awkwardly.

That’s what cerebral palsy feels like to me: my brain trying to talk my body into doing something my body doesn’t quite want to do.

💚 From Shame to Strength

When I was younger, people used to tell me not to talk about my disability.“Don’t tell people you have it,” they’d say.Or, “You don’t even look disabled.”

And for a long time, I believed them. I thought maybe I could “grow out” of it or “be cured.” I spent years trying to hide it — trying to pass.

But those days?They’re over.

There is no cure for cerebral palsy — and there doesn’t need to be.

I’m not broken.You’re not broken.We’re just built differently.

Cerebral palsy is part of who I am — part of my rhythm, my creativity, my motion. It’s the reason I see the world the way I do.

✨ You’re Beautiful, Just the Way You Are

There’s no shame in having cerebral palsy.There’s no shame in moving differently.There’s beauty in the way we adapt — in the way we move anyway.

As the immortal Billy Joel said (ask your parents if you’re under 30):

“Don’t go changing to try and please me.I love you just the way you are.”

So today, on World Cerebral Palsy Day, I just want to say to everyone out there with CP — or any disability:You are powerful.You are strong.You are beautiful.

Just the way you are. 💫

🎙️ About Discovering Beauty

Discovering Beauty with Orbit Deen is part of The Beautiful You Project — a creative space where we explore what it truly means to be beautiful through art, music, storytelling, and real human experience.

We don’t see disabilities. We see possibilities.

💌 Join the conversation: [Subscribe on Substack]📸 Follow along: [@OrbitDeen on IG/TikTok]🎧 Listen on YouTube: [https://www.youtube.com/@OrbitDeen]

Today I want to talk about the album Never Enough from the band Turnstile. Over the past few days and weeks, I’ve completely fallen in ❤️ with this record. It feels like the best of new music, but it also pulls me back to the old days — like stepping into the late ’90s, drifting into the 2000s.

This music is dreamy — it makes you feel like you’re floating — but it’s also hard, raw, and unapologetically rock and roll. Every track hits with emotion: hopeful, sorrowful, angry, confused, beautiful, and sharp-edged. It makes you want to stand up and feel something.

Back to the ’90s

This is the first record that has made me feel this way in a long, long time — not since the ’90s. It took me back to my days in the music industry, when I traveled to radio stations and record stores, talking about why people should pick up music and how powerful it could be. Back then, I worked in the marketing departments of independent labels, and at the turn of the millennium, I even made an effort to start my own.

That label was called Rotten to the Core Records. My mission was to spotlight bands that played real music, with real instruments — artists who weren’t given a shot in the mainstream. I ran the label out of my house in western Massachusetts, traveling often to New York, and my home became a safe space for the so-called “weirdos” and outcasts.

At Michael’s house, my house, Orbit Deen’s house — music was always blasting. And in that music, people found belonging.

Falling in ❤️ with Music Again

Listening to Never Enough brought me right back to those days. Back when you could put on a record and just fall in love.

Music is supposed to be visceral. Within the first two seconds, you should feel something — an immediate emotional response. Somewhere along the way, the industry lost that spark. So much of what we hear today feels overly packaged, overproduced, bland, and mediocre.

But this record — this band — made me fall in love with music all over again. It’s beautiful. It’s raw. It moves me so deeply it even makes me cry, because it reminds me why I loved music in the first place.

Thank You, Turnstile

So thank you, Turnstile, for this record. Never Enough is more than enough. You reminded me what music can do — and why it still matters.