Thoughts. Another Drawing.

I've been posting lots of drawings of late. Sorry, it's kind of repetitive, but I promise I will get around to writing about really interesting things, like Paris Hilton, Herman Melville, and the NBA playoffs.

Although there are ups and downs with my illness, overall I'm able to create more than I could before. I couldn't even come up with ideas or think about creating a while back, my mind was too groggy and in too much pain... And I still get pain sometimes, but it's not as bad as before, and that makes life much much easier. And I feel sooo much stronger than before, especially my mental strength, I've never felt so mentally strong in my life. This illness is a bitch, but it's teaching me a lot of things, in all sorts of ways...

And sure, I'm still very limited, leaving the house is tough, this illness is lasting a heckuva long time, but I feel everything is trending upwards, that's what counts, so I just try and stay focused on the good, I focus on what I can do, I focus on the good things in life, and I know I'm going to will myself to full recovery.

As for this drawing, it represents an adventure I went on, back in the 80's. You might be wondering which person/creature I am? Well, I'm the little prairie dog thingy, ya know, the one holding onto the big dog's ear... It's weird, I don't remember much from that period of time, it's sorta hard even remembering what it was like being a prairie dog. I mean, I think I had good times, I remember eating plants and staring at the sky and thinking about the limits of the universe and wondering whether nothing can really exist, and if nothing exists, doesn't nothing have to be something? As a prairie dog, I struggled with these mind-boggling thoughts and questions. Ultimately, I realized all the answers lay within my prairie dog soul.

And drugs. Drugs gave me a lot of answers too.

Whales are Dangerous.

I just wrote a post on how frustrating the past week has been for me, I haven't felt very well, you know, tired/headachy... same old ridiculous stuff. But I think writing the words helped so much that I don't feel the need to post that post anymore. Cool.

When I go through tired times, I usually have a carnival-like bazaar of memories that play through my mind. Some are cruel and sad because they remind me of beautiful moments that feel far away, or the memories remind me of people that feel far away. Hmmm, I wish my mind wouldn't replay so many memories. I wish I could just play an action movie in my brain all day long on the bad days...

But you know what counts? Although there are highs and lows, I'm going to keep getting better. I'm going to become a triathlete champion who eats frosted flakes and flosses everyday. And I'm going to write the greatest novel ever about Romania. And paint stuff. But seriously, I'm going to benchpress 300 pounds. I don't know why, but that's something I want to do.

In other news: A whale killed some guy in Japan. I just saw it on the news. Poor guy. Shoulda read Melville, he woulda known to stay away from whales...

A Thought on Memories and Health.

Sometimes memories are terrible.

I don't mean the memories themselves are terrible. But it's more how they make you feel in remembering them... they come back and remind you of things you once had but have now lost or will never recapture. Before I got sick I never really had memories haunt me like they have at times this past year. And I don't particularly enjoy wallowing in memories and nostalgia, but you can't control everything in life, sometimes it's unavoidable, and you just gotta feel what you gotta feel.

A particular thing happened to me a couple days ago that triggered this recent phantasmagoria of memories. And this time the intensity of the memories has been very strong... I've had a hard escaping them.

But today the memories and nostalgia have finally eased up. I'm back to thinking in the present and thinking of the future, I'm settling back into my rhythm, my mindset and optimism, and it feels very good.

This whole trip down memory lane just amplifies my desire to fully recover. I'm going to cry and cry and cry with joy the day I finally am free to work and do things again. I try not to get too bothered by the fatigue that still hampers me... I'm getting better, I feel so much more like myself, and I feel so close, like I'm on the cusp... but this fatigue feels like some sort of invisible wall that just magically prevents me from doing stuff. But after all the pain I had, I'm just thankful that the days are so much more peaceful, at least my body can get the rest it needs now. I know I've said a lot of this stuff before, but it helps to write it again every once in a while. It helps me organize my thoughts...

And there is good news on a medical level, my doctor was really encouraged by my blood tests and the virus levels. I'm not sure what all the numbers mean, but good things are happening. This happened about a month ago but I think about it often, it's very comforting to know that besides how I feel, there are invisible things happening in my body that are supposedly good.

So, what exactly am I gonna do when I'm better? Let me tell you: I'm gonna get so drunk for like a week straight and drink so much tequila I'm gonna forget my name and wake up in some gutter in Mexico.

No, no I won't do that, but I should...

A certain thought keeps coming to mind, I don't know where I read it, but I think it's part of the Buddha's teachings: all suffering stems from desire. I guess it's a good thing to keep in mind.