Dreaming

This about sums up my life right now.


Dreaming - Loudon Wainwright III
Copyright ©1996 Snowden Music, Inc.

I'd rather be dreaming than living
Living's just too hard to do
It's chances not choices, noises not voices
A day's just a thing to get through
Living's just too hard to do

I'd rather be dreaming than talking
There's nothing to hear or to say
With ears covered mouth closed the world is opposed
Nothing gets in or away
There's nothing to hear or to say

I'd rather be dreaming than thinking
Thoughts are small comfort to me
Dreams might be pretend but at least dreams end
And I just can't stop thinking you see
Thoughts are small comfort to me

I'd rather be dreaming than sleeping
Just sleeping you're just as well dead
In dreams I can fly, in dreams I don't die
That's why I lie here in this bed
Just sleeping you're just as well dead

I'd rather be dreaming

Change is not always a good thing...

Cause fuckitall!! They went and changed blogger on me. And now I am having to go, "wait, what?" Hopefully this posts correctly...and honestly, does it really matter if it doesn't? I really doubt the 2 people that actually check this place on a weekly basis are going to care that it is correct so much as that it's a new posting since I haven't been here since May.

I spent 4th of July in the hospital again. Pneumonia. Lost 20lbs in 4 days. I look like a skin bag. I'm a fluffy girl normally, but there are bones and hangy skin going on. It's not pretty.

Damn. That all sounded depressing. Sorry about that.

Wait, I think there is one more nugget of joy that I need to squeeze out.

Most of my friends have jumped ship and either deserted me, or betrayed me.

Kinda gives you that nice warm and fuzzy feeling, huh? Yeah, me too. All over. Unfortunately, I just can't seem to muster more than a tear, a meh, and an occasional desire to hunt some of them down and boink them upside the head with a cast-iron skillet.

I get that no one likes death and dying and those depressing and terminal people that just won't croak when they are supposed to. Pisses me off, too, that I have to live every day in the state that I am in. Getting out of bed takes effort. Remembering to hydrate and nourish myself takes effort. Dying without the support of people who supposedly give a shit about me takes effort.

I'm grateful to the ONE friend that has stuck by me in her own way. More so than she will probably ever know. And for that reason, I have been trying to update my recipe book like a mad woman so that she will have a spiffy reward for not bailing like everyone else.

Sorry about the bitter. It's kinda eating at me and sitting in my chest like that Alien thing.

And going up to look at this I realize that I have apologized for my feelings which I shouldn't have done, because they are mine and I have the right to feel them. Been in hiding mostly because I don't want to cause anyone anymore pain or distress due to my condition and also because I am not sure who I can trust to not hurt me and kick me while I am down.

Punx is growing and thriving and singing and laughing and homeschooling and playing and being a great big bundle of joy and amusement for me. She really is my reason for staying and for fighting to get out of bed everyday. Even Fat Cranky Bastard is being a decent human being for once. It's nice not to have to deal with  strife in my own home. Came up with a new word, Dramoil. Drama + turmoil = Dramoil.

Avoiding that shit like it's the plague. Or the zombie apocalypse.

Gah! I'm a lazy bitch. Sorry.

Someone should still be reading this.

I hope.

So here is what has been happening in a nutshell. I have been busy as fuck, but in a lazy way. I do an art show once a month, so I work on stuff constantly for that in between hospital stays, hospital visits, sister popping out kids (happening today), my child breaking both of her arms, random trips to Disney and entertaining the masses with my wit and snark on Facebook. See? Lots to do. And all while I am dying.

Wait! What? Dying?

Yup.

I have been given 3-6 months to live by the cardiologial know-it-alls. My cardiologist was speaking to me in past tenses during my last appointment all while wearing a look of frustrated disappointment. That sucked. They want to put me on anti-rejections and get the whole transplant process started. Pfffft. Fuck that. I am upright and breathing most days, and can be a mother to my child, where as the drugs will make me practically comatose.

I can't live like that.

So here I am. Alive today. Blogging today. About to become an aunt today for the 8th time. Each day is precious at this point, but I am not going to let dying interfere with my living. Period.

Now, on a lighter note! I have a fucking hangover. From one drink last night. Sonofabitch.

I'm a pansy-assed lightweight I guess. But a pansy-assed lightweight that was feeling just un-lazy enough to blog again.

Pfffffft.

Really with the spam comments?

Thanks to all those new readers I have. I appreciate you and welcome! To all the spammers: fuck off, already!

I just got back from a week at Disney. It was loads of fun, and I lost 10 lbs! Woot! It seems now I have managed to contract an "oh fuck-nuggets, I'm sick again" plague that has rendered me feeling all blegh and stabby towards spammers...

At a frenzied snail's pace.

I have been sitting here all day. I should be getting ready for my art show in two days. I'm not. I should be visiting my friend Chris who is dying of cancer in the hospital. But, I'm not. I should be exercising, playing with my child, cleaning my house, making jewelry, shopping for my daughter's winter clothes or making a gourmet meal for my family. But, I'm not.

Because for the last few days I haven't felt like doing much. Call it depression, lazy, or feeling like I have been kicked repeatedly by a very large horse, I just haven't had the motivation to do more than tinker a little with some jump rings and play Facebook games.

Oh yeah, and go to a completely depressing New Year's Eve party where I had no one to talk to, nothing to do, and no one to kiss at midnight. I am just a giant ball of MEH. And a squishy one at that.

I need to be smaller. Happier. Livelier. Funnier. Better.

Now I just need to figure out how...