I only want to write fiction now and I’m not sure what to do about this blog now. I’ve written about myself for so long, I know too much about me. And I’m tired of me on the lines.

How will I tell you about my days? Well, do I have to? No one says they’re just dying to know more. It’s just another life story. Chaos and peace, fun and fits, anger and happiness, doing something, doing nothing. Tired, energized, productive, not producing a damn thing. Being. And trying to expand my boundaries and definitions of what life is.

Why are we here? To suffer, to exclaim, to teach, to sow, to show all, to show nothing, to dance, to sleep, to read, to write and create. I’ve done them all now. And much more. Big deal. So has everyone else.

Everyone has a story. We are told we’re supposed to tell our stories. But what if I want to tell your story? Or just make up new stories, just because it’s fun and it takes the pressure off sharing my (mostly) boring life?

News Alerts

#1 – I’m having a fourth ERCP for the year this Friday, May 23rd. Not thrilled about that. (It didn’t turn out well.)

#2 – I am active again on the transplant list after being taken off last year because I told them I was depressed. Whoop.

#3 – I walked 2.1 miles yesterday, farthest I’ve walked since leaving the hospital March 26.

#4 – I won’t be doing the Bolder Boulder 10K on Memorial Day this year. Next year.

#5 – Violet loves to stalk miller moths anytime of day or night. Any. Time.

That’s about it. I’m writing a lot these days on my one longest running fiction story. It’s fun and it surprises me what these characters say and do. But I’m not saying anything more about that now. Need privacy. Lots more writing and discovery to do.