Where is my IPod?

Written 12/1/10

Where is my IPod? Why do I feel afraid? What is the fear? Is it fear of success or failure? Today I feel anger and fear but I’m committed to writing my 500 words, working on my music, reading, thinking, laughing. Yoga is done. Eating is going to happen.

Mom is going to lay out some clean clothes so that I can go for a walk. That will do me good. Even when I’m mad, it doesn’t last very long but at this moment, mad I am. Am I going to live? (so far so good). Am I going to have to think about cancer for the rest of my life (yes). Am I too old to try to be somebody (yes, no). Will someone ever really want to hold me and love me and laugh with me and what not? (no idea, probably not). Where is my ipod? Will my taste buds every recover? Will I ever have a sense of smell again? If I decided not to go ahead with a transplant, how long do they think I might live? Will my body heal itself? Will I ever have children? “Things are seldom as they seem skim milk masquerades as cream.”

HMS Pinafore was a play I auditioned for in sixth grade. I wanted to be Buttercup. I didn’t get the part. Megan got it. I was mad. I thought I deserved it and I think I thought that maybe I didn’t get it because I was of brown skin. Maybe not.

Could I act in a play? Could I save a life? Save one life. I feel like sleeping and the clock says it is only 9 a.m. but I’ve been up for six hours so it feels more like 3 p.m.

Is it work if you don’t get paid for it? Does it count if no one is keeping score?

Where is myIPod? Where is my camera? Where is my brain? I’m taking my walk to see if I can find it.
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The day has gone and five hundred words have not been written yet. Hmmmmm. Things to talk about; Blogging, renovating the house, anticipation of blood tests tomorrow, good books, we are what we eat, drumming and singing and all that jazz.

I found my IPod and camera and all that. It is now 3:33 a.m. and I just looked at the clock and that number tells me something is coming. Does it have to be bad? Will it undoubtedly be good? When I die, what will I leave behind? Could I possibly live for twenty more years? Five more years? I still have so much to learn. If God (and I mean no disrespect) created everything and knows everything why does God need us to believe in it? Do we believe because we’re afraid? Do we believe so that we can convince or control other people? Tomorrow before I go to the clinic I need to take a shower I feel out of shape. Where does peace of mind come from? If one is paying attention, is it possible to have peace of mind? Death can’t be as bad as all that. Can it? Hilary? Here I am. But.

Teisha was born on the 3rd, afraid to turn 30, diagnosed at 33, and died at 3:33 p.m.