Saturday, December 1, 2007

Just tried Googling the title for this blog and came up with bubkiss. I haven't added a new post to this blog since I opened it. Even I don't read this thing.

I guess that means it will be safe enough to write what I'm going to write then. Nobody will read it.

My brain is atrophying. That means my brain is dying. Interesting.

All my life I've been afraid that my body will die before my mind does. I guess I don't have that to worry about anymore.

My carotid arteries are showing calcification. Calcification of the carotid arteries leads to stoke. Again with the brain . . . dying.

Symptoms of brain atrophy:
obsession CHECK
depression CHECK
overeating CHECK
obsessively wanting to eat a particular food CHECK - in my case it's potatoes

There are other symptoms but they haven't manifested yet. I'll list them later.

I'm a writer - freelance writer. My fiction is not yet published but my non-fiction (read business writing) has seen some success. By that I mean, my grant proposals generally result in funds for the clients and the other forms of business writing (reports, quarterlies, letters and other communications - even a personnel policy handbook) have been complimented and the clients I worked for have been happy.

Fiction is what I love most, though. Nothing new there, of course. Most writers feel that way. I also write personalized poetry on commission. I've had success with that in the past but really haven't pursued that much for a few years. I want to . . . I just haven't.

There's a lot of things I want to do but just haven't. Like cleaning and organizing my beautiful apartment on Fargo Ave. I love this place but I still haven't unpacked. My husband, I'll call him Mo, has completely unpacked his stuff and put it all away. It's just my stuff and the "house stuff" that hasn't been unpacked.

"House Stuff." Interesting term that. It means the stuff we'd both use if we were a regular couple. China. Flatware. Linens. Towels. Books. Magazines. Knick knacks, etc.

The problem is I don't know which box holds the "house stuff" and there are too many boxes to go through until we find them. So . . . my stuff and the house stuff stays packed up.

It's aslmost as if I think we may be moving again soon . . . or . . . nah, I'm just lazy . . . and terrified of starting a huge project like that because I know it will overwhlem me and I'll be even worse off than I am now.

to be continued . . .

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