I took a few classes in the beginning of the pandemic at the Colorado Free University that kind of ruined my blogging. See, it was one thing to be blogging semi-anonymously without a care in the world, but quite another to understand how I was going to be filed away in the internet of imagination. If you’ve taken a second to peruse any iota of this blog, you’ve seen I have been pretty free with the titles and the content as well. It’s been, shit, this is on my mind, time to spill that, etc. I have close to a thousand entries still in drafts, mostly because I am trying to keep true to my audience. Who the fuck is my audience? I have no idea anymore as I’ve careened on and off this sucker for a few decades so far. I do know that having to think that some of these titles and content might end up being my legacy is not an entirely comfortable thing. It’s not that I want it curated, it’s just–for someone who has nobody close to let in on my life aside from him–it’s just a weird thing to assume I’ll be dead with no way to stand up for myself at some point.

This blog will be one of a few sites I hope to leave when I’m gone. At this point my end is something is closer than my beginning–I’ve been having dreams for weeks–dreams of my life layered upon other layers of parallel lives or lives I’ve already lived. I’ve also been having some chest pains that haven’t made me feel particularly good or safe from death. I don’t necessarily feel like dealing with the hospital when I have to move in mere weeks and yes, there is a pandemic and all. It would be the literal worst time for this shit to happen, but it’s going to happen when it happens. I’m not planning on ignoring it entirely–but I’m trying to eat the right stuff, go to bed with the right audio, not stress out about money or work right now because I can only tackle one thing at a time. Sure, there were times in my past where I juggled lots of stress balls at once, but at this point I need as much ease as I can muster, and that just includes me controlling what I can control, which is my emotions, daily space, dog and the life I try to provide my husband with–I do all the cooking, I chose the movers, rented the van, found the apartment, set all the logistics up, I do all the shopping. I do all the things I guess a traditional wife might do aside from raising kids, but we’ve been over that already. I would never have lived this long having to raise a kid in this shit world on top of everything else.

The surgeon gave me a bit of a gift possibly letting me off for a few months. November is the next check, CT scans, echo etc. My cardiologist is pissed, he thinks the surgery needs to be done asap. And maybe it did or does–I can only think there has to be a good reason to be putting it off. Maybe it’s something in the surgery, maybe it’s that I will need to meet someone in the next few months who can help me with my recovery–whatever it is/was, I can’t force shit at this point. I can only do what I can do, and that’s just trying to control my environment as much as I can.