Sick

I'm sick this week. Wheezing like an old geezer waiting to die and hacking up a lung full of junk you don't even want me to describe right now. It's pretty awful. Even the most mundane tasks like getting up to go to the bathroom feels like running a marathon. So most of the time I just lie in bed, concentrating on breathing, making sure I don't wheeze too much air in and out because I'll start hacking away again... While lying in bed though, when I'm not thinking about dying, I think about life and change and where I'll be next. I guess I've been thinking about that a lot anyways. I don't know where I"m going to be in 3 months, probably still here, but maybe not. I'm pretty sick of thinking about it actually, about where all the work I've done with the last 5 years of my life has led me to.. emptiness? soul-less? and ennui?

Maybe Chris is right, I'm just whining too much and I'm losing focus of the bigger picture. I'll admit it.. I'm a big baby. I've grown up with a silver spoon and when it's my turn to start getting off my ever so growing ass, I just whine. But I think whining is a good thing. In a way, it keeps me on my toes, and keeps me alive and makes me constantly think about whether my life is headed towards the life I've always wanted. Let's see, then what's the life I've always wanted? I kinda like that idea of money falling out of the sky, and all the while I'm suddenly the most talented guitar and piano player and songwriter and novelist to have ever blessed mankind. That would be nice.

In the meantime, I just need to stop hacking up yellow glue. That would be a good start.