Exhibiting Inflammation

One foot in front of the other. One foot in front of the other...

I'm trying to flow, Deepak. I'm trying to walk the line between the visible and invisible, Paulo Cielo. I'm trying to connect to the source, Dr. Wayne Dwyer. And so on...except I have this anger welling up in me from which I know not where. I'm tired. I'm irritable. I'm exhibiting inflammation. I'm going to stomp on this tiny (yet getting a bit round in the hips) dog, smash this computer, write bitchy blogs.

I spent all day in the car. You would think that after spending so much quality time (EIGHT HOURS) with my iPhone listening to Elizabeth and Darcy killing zombies I would be happy, right? So why do I feel homicidal right now? Computer. You are so damn slow. I know that this bitching is completely contrary to accepted affirmation format. I want so badly to just flow. I am frustrated though. I am surrounded by entropy and it's going all mercury matrix on me. I feel like pulling the covers over my head. Sleeping a really really long time, and then some more. Quote from doctor's office today: "So the depression is completely gone?...YEP." What was not said: "So you still crazy?...SOMETIMES."

Today was another appointment with my Lyme Doctor. (I shall here after refer to him as such, since I don't want him to get in trouble for actually helping people.) The vacillation on my tongue has stopped. I know you have no idea what I'm talking about. I promised though to try to help other people so I'm writing it down. Just skip it if I'm boring you. And, no, it's not gross. I didn't even know I had it. Apparently, it is related to a nerve that is often affected by lyme and is therefore a symptom. Quote: "Your tongue looks good!"

(If that dog bangs on the door one more time to go out and be all manly and bark his head off I'm gonna..INDY! KNOCK IT OFF!)

All the other crap though has come back. Regression! Ugh, I know. Running a temp for a month, I know. Face broken out, not related, but it is totally pissing me off too. So now we are on to a new antibiotic. Interesting twist here. This one is for leprosy or the bite of a brown recluse spider. I like the term "therapeutic trial" better than "shotgun approach" or "grasping at straws". I hope I don't drop dead. Cause sometimes, just sometimes, I think I might.

(Has anyone watched Heroes lately? Totally sucking. Yet another thing to get my dander up.)

Don't get me wrong. I left the doctor's office with a smile on my face. He took a yeast swab (up my nose, perv), and I'm clean. After twelve months of antibiotics I think that's great. One less worry. I will try anything to feel better. I always think of that line from The Cutting Edge where DB Sweeney says "Fly to Mexico and shoot shark piss up my nose, right? There's a cure, right?" And before you say it, YES, I GODDAMN WATCHED THE CUTTING EDGE. Why are you egging me on right now? He also gave me some migraine med samples to try for the meniere's flare ups. Awesome. Please, I don't want to drop dead.

(INDIANA! Stop whining at me! There is no TREAT for you!)

Remember I said how I keep having dreams that I am in high school and there's one week left of finals and I can not possibly do it. I am so tired I choose (in my recurring dream) to just chuck the whole thing. I'm dreaming I'm tired and a failure in my dreams. Fantastic.

(Hang on. Gotta get Mom's whites out of the dryer. Did I not say entropy sucked? They'll be dirty and mocking me by next weekend.)

Am I being punked? No hangers, mystery dog poop and burnt out fluorescent in the laundry room. Really? REALLY?

(DAMMIT INDIANA SHUT THE HELL UP!)

So anyway, I'm reading a magazine in the HOUR I am waiting and I find an article about dreams. Refer to picture of said snippet at the top. Well, that about sums it up. Frustrated with not living up to my potential. NUTSHELL. I can check my horoscope and my biorhythm and the answer is always the same. F**KED.

I'm gonna try to end this on a positive note... NO I'M NOT.