Hmmm.

My friend told me, actually she quoted to me from a saying she had framed on her wall, "We are spiritual beings going through a physical experience."

Yes.

That is absolutely true.

Maybe I can be less judge-y of me and everyone around me if I feel that I our bodies and our current situation and physicality do not define our souls, our spirits.

WOW.

Just A Little Bit

I've been doing just a little bit of writing. And a bit of social networking (read: tweeting my ass off). I have been trying to make my business more visible on the web. Suffice it to say that I'll never be a millionaire.

Well, that's not fair.  Maybe, just maybe I can scrimp and save and make it to one meellyon dollars (gotta say it evil).

BUT the point is - I have been writing. Doesn't seem to be funny, which is a shame as my other blog I've posited that it's a humor blog. I think you all know that my other blog is about dating and the absolute winners I find out there - plus some rants added in for spice (that is to say, no one. No one reads this blog so you - who don't exist - wouldn't know about my other blog because you don't exist.) 

Wow!  Look at that, I'm off topic again.  Back on point: I have been writing. I have been doing what I have set out to do. And I believe that's a positive thing. I don't believe anyone is truly reading these and I had to re-arrange my twitter account(s) so that I could be more anonymous, but I did that and am putting pen to paper, or in my case fingers to keyboard, and sitting down and typing for more than five minutes.  I am trying. I am doing away with any excuses that I come across and just doing it. The results are . . less than perfect but there are results.

That leads me to another thought.  This blog was originally just stories and things that happened to me and then I tried to turn it into a weight loss blog, all the while crazy was being mixed in.  So I guess I'll just write what I feel to get something on paper so to speak. It'll probably still be about crazy and weight loss and girly dumb thoughts, but it's my blog or diary so you don't have to read it. ! (heehee. you aren't.)

I am still trying my hand at weight loss using a new method that hopefully won't bankrupt me.  I type this as I am eating a DQ Blizzard. Truly.

I am still trying to navigate small town politics and business and people and trying to get my business started.  I am really in trouble on this one.  I am hemorrhaging money. Dollars. American. It sucks.

I am still trying to work on my relationships including friends and family.  This has been difficult.

Do you remember in Sixteen Candles when Molly Ringwald runs back in the church for her sister's veil and the crotchety organ player was walking down the aisle? Molly says she's getting her sister's veil - she was a little bit out of it. Crotchety woman's reply: Just a little bit. I feel like Molly - navigating the horror of high school and interpersonal relationships between family, friends and friends-not-so-much. Just a little bit.  Give my underwear to a geek. Get to kiss the hottie at the end because I'm nice.  Just a little bit.  Do a little here.  Do a little there.  

Truth to Fact

Indiana Jones said, "Archaeology is the search for fact... not truth. If it's truth you're looking for, Dr. Tyree's philosophy class is right down the hall."

(I'm quoting him because everyone wants to be Indiana Jones.)

I think it might be true that I'm a writer. Maybe. I know I'd like to be one. I'd like to spin tales of loveliness, of beauty, of transformation and growth. I'd like to heal the planet, heal nations, heal arguments between brothers and, maybe, just heal one. Maybe I could be that one.

I look at bloggers and micro-bloggers and see the impact that they have. I look at the lasting legacy of Shakespeare or The Beatles' Lennon and McCartney, Philip K. Dick or even Stephen King. I see how all of these writers make people feel. Some of them make you feel better, some inspired, some afraid of what trouble the world can get into, but they all make us curious. We all turn the page, scroll the screen, or listen for the next note and the lilted word doesn't disappoint.

I have a flair for the dramatic. My stories are all tall tales. The fish was this big and I walked up hill going both ways. But am I a writer? An author? Can my words make it to paper?

And if I say yes? Yes, in truth I am a writer. How do I take that truth, that essence, and turn it into fact, into my reality? The easiest answer is to say: “Write.” Have a thought: write it down. String some thoughts together and there you go. I guess some writers are like that but it has never been like that for me. 

What is my higher self? What is it telling me to do? Is it to slim down or stay fat? Is it to be controlling or like Shaggy on Scooby Doo and go with the flow?  

Wait. I think I got off point here. Or did I? My higher self isn't a procrastinating asshole, is it? My higher self is a thin, beautiful (young) writer who eschews the hum-drum path most followed and goes her own way never once asking for love or reassurance that she does matter.

Let’s take it back to Indy. He came, he helped, he kicked ass and then went back to his life and taught. Not every day was running away from boulders and tribesmen who steal hearts (literally) and Nazis that melt or finance biblical antiquity scavenger hunts. He was a professor. He probably had to write some excellent findings to keep his job, you know “publish or perish.” But he balanced it all. Except he couldn’t seem to keep a relationship going: he had no kids, no wife. He probably had a housekeeper (his house looked neat and orderly). You know it really was unfair that in the fourth one (I like them ALL!!), that Marion had to deal with the entirety of raising a child and making an instant family for Indy when he was ready. Maybe his higher self is the asshole. Sorry Feminist reading there. (I really think I’ve taken the path less travelled with this logic.)

BUT. His life (while fictional) was fact. He didn’t spend it searching for truth – he sought the verifiable i.e. fact. He didn’t think about it, he did it.

My life (while fact) is fictional. I am many, many things but none of them real. I have to learn to transform my thoughts into actions and my actions into being. And by being, I will make my reality. I want to be verified and verifiable. I want to be living deliberately, letting my higher self lead the way down a path that will blossom into a path of authenticity, truth and validity. And action. Otherwise, none of these things will happen. I need to start.

I’ll start now. I start now.

I want to be a professor of medieval literature. I want to be a novelist.

I want to be a weekend flautist. I want to be a potter. I want to be a painter. I want to be an architect (and I want to go to Northwestern).*

* Extra points if you know where this originated. No? That's ok, I'm a total girl.  "Never Been Kissed" said by young, lovely Aldys.

Unconscious

So. I've been mediating on the whole losing weight thing.
And. I can see me being fit and thin.
But for some reason this brought up the unhealthy in me.  The need to make a fucked-up decision (mistake) so that my life will continue to spiral and suck.
So. Apparently I've been envisioning seeing my ex.  (This also might have to do with the fact that I'm hard up. I need some bad.)

So what do I dream about? I dream about seeing him.  But I'm trying to see him again - at a motel or something.  And I can't see how to get my car over this canal (or whatever) so I'm going to cross on foot. And I fall in and get gross and wet. And when I finally get to our motel room, he's taking care of himself, if you get my drift.  He stops momentarily when I kind of crash in on him. But then begins again.  And I think, "I could join in if I blow him." And then I think, "Naw. I don't want to.  That'll take care of him.. but won't do a thing for me."  So I go in and take a shower to get the crap off of me.

So really here's my unconscious self yelling out "FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY! Don't do this! Look at what would happen! You'd get stuck, covered in shit and still, you'd be without. Just don't do it."

I'm going to take the hint - for now.  I want to be able to promise myself I won't be that stupid, but I can't seem to make it stick.  I hope so.  It would be a complete waste of time, energy, money, self-esteem, brain power and would bring a new level to my shame.  Let's just not do this.

ok. So

Yeah, so.

I am disappointed.  I don't know how else to describe what I am feeling.  But he's the asshole, right? So why let him make me feel bad?  And what is that (stupid) saying?  Something like, no one can make you feel something that you don't give them permission to make you feel. ?  Huh?  
Whatever - it's me choosing to feel disappointed, right?

Ok, so.  I'm trying the stupid internet fat-girl dating site.  And I swear! there are at least 90% scammers on there.  And this last one . . . I've had my guard up but he was taking so long and being nice and talking about god, etc.  So I started to believe that he was nice.  What a fucking joke!
Tonight, he asked for me to "borrow" some money to him.  Yeah.  Fucking fucker with the fucked-up understanding of fucking English.

Hmph.  So.  Here I am.  Trying for real, finally, to take a step forward and attempt to live my life and fully experience the human condition.  And here are these stupid asses trying to cheat fat women out of their money.  Like fat = gullible = stupid and trusting and, apparently, rich.
 
And... as I am writing this, I have to laugh (almost).  This is part of the human condition, isn't it?  You put yourself out there and some of the people are assholes and maybe there are more assholes than not.  And if you are really lucky (or destined, whatever) you find the one diamond in the rough, right?

Ok.  So.

Now what, exactly?  I'll keep trying I guess.

Where to start?

Any ideas?

Something

Something big is going to happen.
I just haven't figured out what, yet.

It's dumb

Or maybe I should just write "I'm dumb."

The last posts have been true.. or I should say that they are my truth.  But I feel dumb, just the same.  And maybe. . . just maybe . . . "dumb" is the literal word.  I am struck dumb. . .unable to talk. My communication skills sorely lacking.

I am at a crossroads.  And I am impotent. Dumb. Unable to speak my desire, unable to even formulate my desires.

And I have hired a lawyer.  I am waiting for his firm, strong voice to tell me, to show me, the way.  Heh.  His strong voice.

He called me today.  I wouldn't exactly call his voice "strong" or "firm".  He did seem very nice though.

----
So I went and visited my old hippie friend last night.  Except she's really too old to be an old hippie.  Oh, well.  But the point is - she gave me my birthday present - s  Birthday PresentS.  One of the presents was a tarot deck.  She had opened it previously, unfortunately.  I know you don't believe any of this.  I don't either.  (Except I do - sort of.)  So.  I tried to put some of my energy on them... but it's all sugared and liquored up energy - so weird, right?  Anyway.  I did a spread (that I looked up on the internet - because I don't know how to do that.. I mean, Hello!)  and I asked about whether I would find true love.  Heh.  The first card - which was about me, was about how I am super strong.  And that must be good, because every other freaking card was all that nothing was going to work out.  Not as I'd planned, not as I wanted it to, not as a type A or a laid back "change comes when it's time" person.  Yeah.  NOT a good sign.

I'm a little horny.  Stupid maragaritas are making me write this disjointed, stupid (dumb) exclamation of my loneliness.  Ye-ah.  This was a great idea.

What do you do if you've known your entire life that what would make you happy is to find the other half of your soul that's somewhere out there in the great-big world?
And you ache for it, yearn for it.  That second part of yourself that will make you whole?
I'm been listening to a book on tape that has taken a romantic turn and now I'm maudlin.  I'm so sad.

You see, I know, I've always known what I really want out of life.  I've always wanted to "be happy." And that happiness, for me, can only come with the terrible, horrible soul-crushing, up-lifting, painful, joyful binding of me with another.  The perfect "other," the one other that completes me.
And how sad is it and how true it is that from a very early age, I knew that I was going to be alone. I would make all my decisions on my own, I would not share my responsibilities with a special "other," nor share my milestones with that one person, either.
And I've not put myself out there.  I haven't actively looked because of fear.  And I'm damaged.  I've had pain and disease inflicted upon me.  And the character flaws that I was born with that seem to me I shall never overcome, have not helped.  It seems they were perfectly fitted to compliment each other so that I will remain alone forever.

Girls. Or How I Wasted My Weekend.

I totally did waste my weekend.  *Totally* 
Ha!
I wasted time all weekend.  It felt wonderful.  I watched tv. I watched so much tv. Oh, gawd. It was good. Today, I actually had a nap.

I did not know if I liked or really hated GIRLS. I caught up on the episodes. And I liked them.

I really needed to work and work and work. I've been running in circles trying to accomplish - what exactly?  Success!  That's what I've been trying to accomplish.  Does one accomplish success?  One attains it.  I, for one, have not attained success.

How is it, when I reached a certain age, I figured something out. But not really.  I mean, I figured out that I wanted to work hard and attain something for myself.  And that something is a bit of business success.  Not much, really.  Just to be profitable and be able to pay myself a living wage.  And maybe more than that. Someday.
Yet, I haven't figured out how to do that.
And frack! I'm about to have ANOTHER birthday.  Seriously.  Another one.
And I'm trying to be amenable and take on a business partner.  That's fun. That'll work out well.  Well, truly I hope it will.

And so.  So, I've been running around trying to do my work, trying to do her work, trying to go to school to create a new life.
Yeah.
That's going to work out.

Again. New and Hope.

Ok. I don't know what this blog is supposed to be about. Other than it is about me. And my thoughts. I guess that it's ultimately about my struggles. My struggle to be the best me I can be.

I've finally figured out that is what I want. I want to be the best me possible. Perhaps, that way I can be happy. That way--I can find purpose in my life. Maybe. Maybe.

Hopefully.

Of course, there are some less lofty goals that I have. Like wanting to be able to pay my bills. Wanting a new car, wanting to travel, wanting a hot boyfriend with a crazy, hard body. Eh, I wouldn't mind a sick, hard body for myself either.

With my craziness, how do I trust the new path I'm on now?  Well, I don't know.  But I can tell you, I feel more like myself, more me than I have in a long time, maybe more than I ever have.  I know it's the fancy cocktail of designer drugs and I know that I have to continually adjust and check in with myself to make sure I don't lose myself.  There is fear involved.

So I'll try to be honest. I'll try to follow-through. And follow-up. And I have a lot of work to do - studying and traveling and working and schmoozing and exercising.  This is what I have to do.

So this is what I'll do.

Let's Try This *Again*

ok.
Let's start over.  A re-do, if you will. 
I want to be the most, optimum me I can be.

So let's start.

For the next 24 hours.  ooooh.  that might be too much.  Fuck.  Ok. 
For the next 90 minutes: I am going to get up and wash my stank off and wash my hair and brush my teeth.

I need to take my car in for service. Effectively stranding me for the day.  Perhaps I'll get some work done during that time.

Optimum me:
Start with clean hair, clean body, clean teeth. 
Work from there.

completely bereft

i had a huge fight with sister. and it wasn't even that huge. but something about it seems final. and i don't understand. i don't understand how she can not even feel remotely the least bit of understanding of what i'm doing, what i'm going through, and how hard i'm working.
and i can see her side - she thinks mom favored me and gave me everything i wanted. she thinks mom hated her and tried to do things to hurt, or at least not help her.
but i can see these old wounds. thinking those thoughts as a child, a teenager, a young adult. and then: finally growing up. letting some of it go. maybe not all, but some.
i do not see how she doesn't see me trying. and drowning. i don't understand.
i just do not understand how when i asked for help - i got attitude. so maybe i am the bitch.
but i cannot forgive her. not with out her apology. even if it isn't her fault. even if it is ultimately my fault. i need that apology. i needed help and i didn't get it. now i need an apology - and i think hell will come and go and i'll still be waiting, still be needing it.
and i cannot forgive her for that.

New Year. What?!

Ok. So I've checked out. And this is sad. Partly because I miss it. Partly because I haven't been being honest with what's going on. Partly because if I'm not writing in this blog how else am I going to be a famous blogger, write a book and then sell millions of copies so that I become the person I've always wanted to be - but just *a little bit* of a recluse because, of course I have to protect my privacy and I'm so famous that I have to hide and wear big, dumpy dark glasses to hide my identity? Yeah. How else is that going to happen?

It's a new year. And things are looking up. And then they're looking sideways. And then, well, let's just say I don't believe in hell, per se, but things have definitely been looking southward, too.

Christmas and New Year's were a blur. And so far, this month has been one too.

I'm running the tax office(s) and a new hire is making me grumpy, grouchy, and plain-ass irritable. (Why didn't they have a dwarf named "Irritable" or "Stressy?")

I am still on my designer drugs. I feel so much better. It makes me wonder, is this how normal people feel? I mean, I feel sad or irritated or angry or tired or even depressed, but not everything is such a struggle. It doesn't feel like a life and death fight with myself just to get out of bed. It just isn't as hard. I guess that's what I'm feeling. Life is easier. And I wonder - is this how it should have been all along?

My weight is still terrible. But I'm really trying to not focus on it. I figure when I have time and feel better, things will come.

What I am focusing on is trying to start new, healthy habits. I found an app named Habit Streak that I downloaded to track my progress and check in with myself to try to start (and stick to) new habits that I'd like to cultivate. I won't bore you with my up-and-coming habits - oh, wait. That's what I do here.

So yeah. I will. I will let you know what I'm working on right now.

1) Brush teeth at least twice a day. [I know, I know. This is a no-brainer and you are now thinking that I'm the grossest person ever. You might be right. But at night. I often am soo oo oooo tired that if I remember I can't get out of bed to do it. Also, I almost *always* brush them in the morning - but lately (will discuss later) with my new morning regimen I don't always remember because so much is going on.]

2) Take morning medicine (I had to give myself an easy one - sadly, I do not always remember. Actually, I've been forgetting so - I have been taking it with -

3) Take night medicine ( my night medicine. This is actually a cheat - because I can forget to take it - and I have - but then I can't sleep, so then I eventually remember.)

4) Play with the girls (giving myself a fun one. but I don't always get a chance. Have been busy, busy.)

5) Wake up before 7 am on weekdays and 9 am on weekend. (Yeeaaaah. This one. Not even close to being a habit. What's the opposite of habit? That's me and this "suggestion" from Habit Streak.)

6) Take a daily vitamin (This one is for my cousin, the neurosurgeon. Actually, she's not a neurosurgeon, she's a neurologist. - BUT I like to say, "It's not brain surgery, and I should know, my cousins a brain surgeon." I don't actually say this (anymore).)

7) Wash face before bed (This should be another easy one - but for some reason. I'm so tired and "don't give a shit" at night lately. I can't do it.)

Here's some others that I'm working on that AREN'T on Habit Streak.

New Year, New Me! So I've set myself some rules.

• Must wear new contacts at least three times a week.
• Must wear "real" shoes places like work. Not, *NOT* Crocs.
• Must wear makeup - which consists of (but not limited to) eyeliner, mascara, and lip something.
• Must try to dress to flatter my figure and better represent the person I'd like to be - Which is to say, I cannot solely dress strictly for comfort any longer. I do not have to be uncomfortable, but I cannot dress like a slob anymore. Except perhaps on the weekends. - Non-working weekends.

• As part of the dressing for success - or more aptly put - dressing like the person I'd like to be (see above) - try to style it, girrrrl. So some jewelry, some accessories, some matchy-match.

Well, there probably is another one, but I've been terrible about it. And that's Try to Save. As in, stop spending, idiot. But I've been feeling, why can't I be surrounded by beauty, pretty? So I've been spending. The opposite of "saving" but I've also been trying to save. Which is a problem I haven't quite worked out yet.

There. That's it. That's what's going on. Sort of. Wish me luck.

Christmas. Really?

Yes, it really was Christmas. I've survived Thanksgiving and Christmas and now only have to get through New Year's day to be able to officially say, "I've survived the Holiday Season."

It didn't feel very Christmas-y, or very Thanksgiving-y either, for that matter. But it wasn't horrible and I did it. We all did it, I suppose if you're reading this. I don't know if it wasn't a supremely happy time because of the loss of my mother or if this year was just extremely different. It seems every one's Christmas and holiday was odd. I'm ok with that, I guess.

I know I haven't been around much lately. I haven't been around at all actually. But I now have designer drugs coursing through my veins and I am feeling much better - never mind that I can't currently move my head: my neck and shoulder are messed up and extremely painful right now.

I am hoping for a very good new year. I miss my mother terribly but I think I'm going to be ok. I've been on a bit of a crazy spending spree (all on credit, of course) and must now try to get back into the "debt free" lifestyle I was hoping to cultivate last time I paid all my cards off. Tax season starts in just a few days and I have tons (really - just piles and piles) of work to do before tax season even begins. I feel as though I can handle the work. I'd better - I have to.

I'm hoping to get the numbers up this year for tax season. I'd like to actually make some money. If we don't, no more tax business and no more job for me. I am making plans on traveling this coming year, so I really hope it all works out, one way or another.

I hope everyone finds peace this holiday season. We could all use some.

Love to you!

Plan for today

Well. I've already blown it. My plan for today was to get drunk. I poured myself a huge stein of margarita on the rocks and I've got heart burn already.

Yeah. Lovely.


OOOH! I just saw The Muppets last night. It was the most enjoyable movie I have seen in quite a long time. It was good, really.

Well. I've done it.

I've gotten everyone pissed off at me. Again.
Well. I don't have much to say . . . other than - well, why am I always the asshole? And honestly, I can be quite the asshole. But today, I don't really think I was being a jerk.

I've been quite depressed and haven't been doing much, but as it's Sunday, I picked up my dad and we went for brunch at a Santa Fe style Mexican restaurant. And as my sister has been roosting at my father's, she came too. And then she wanted to hang out with me today. I just wanted to lay in bed as I had done the previous day. But I decided I could not face Walmart alone, I agreed. (I had to go to Walmart to purchase her medicine.)
We shopped, we watched some tv, we went back to Walmart and we then cooked.
I asked Mc to come down with the new puppy and that's when I did it.

Later, Sister was all, I think you pissed off Mc. Whoops! Because I didn't mean to. It really had not a lot to do with me. But my delivery of information and probably, my timing played a part too. And now it's going to be a snow-ball effect. He's gonna be mad at me and at G, who in turn will be made at me. Oh, and Sister's already irritated with me. So there ya go. Only M is not mad at me. And probably B. But B isn't talking to me right now.
__________________

I went to the doctor again on Friday. He upped my meds. I finally asked the pharmacy at Wally-world how much the med will be a month. Yeah. Almost $200. Something like $177 per month, I believe is what she said. Better be some good shit for that much.
__________________

OH! I have to say that I am in LOVE with ABC's "Once Upon a Time." In L-O-V-E. So good.

It is combining fantasy with life in today's world which is the curse. So living in today's world is the punishment! HA! They got that right!



I also like - Well, everything. Let's hope it continues to surprise and enthrall me
as it has been doing.

Improvement

I checked my blood sugar level this morning and it was 80. I think that's good.
And today, while missing my mother terribly, it was more of an ache, dull, than an all-consuming spasm of pain wracking my body, especially my chest.
That's an improvement, right?

New Worries

So I am thinking that I am getting diabetes. This is not some idle worry or threat. My mother had diabetes, my father has it, both of my grandmothers had it. My grandfathers died before they could get it. They had bad tickers.

The seroquel is said to raise your blood glucose level. Read: sugar. So I've decided to again try to go off of sugar.

Seriously, this is a pain in my ass. And I'm addicted to it like a drug. Last night. Eeek! I don't even want to write it for fear of making it worse and more real.
Deep breath. Last night, after dinner, I checked my level. It was 241. That seems awfully damn high to me. Dad said not to worry, we'd check it this morning before breakfast. It was 115. I thought that was pretty damn high also. He said not to worry -- over 120 is bad.

So once I got to the office, I googled it. Fasting glucose (sugar) levels should be below 100. Over 100 but below 125 is probably pre-diabetes. And here's the thing (well one of the things, anyway), I've been having to pee a lot lately. So much so that I was thinking maybe I was broken down there or maybe I had a urinary tract infection. Nope, that's just a sign of diabetes. That and the thirst I have all of the time lately.
And slow healing. This one doesn't really count because I've always healed very slow (when comparing to others).

Anyway. I'm not usually one of those persons who trolls webMD and then thinks they have whatever they've read. But I do think this is real. And I seriously need to get my shittake in order. I mean really.

One of my professors said once, "You can warn someone the train is coming, but sometimes people don't believe you until they get run down." Is that me? Am I going to get mowed down and then - ? Who will I have to blame? Myself? I already do that all the time anyway.

Gotta start working out too. Let's see if we can slow this train down a bit. Or get the hell off the track. Seriously.

Too much

So, I guess that internet dating site sees when you are at the site, for whatever reason. And the more you are on the site, the higher it puts you as a search result.
?
Is this true?
Because all of a sudden my inbox is blowing up! Too many! Too many!
All with the ever-present Eww! and Yuck!

Maybe I should just remove my profile because, let's be honest, I'm in no shape to start a relationship.
______________

On a different topic, and I know it is too soon, I am feeling much better. Yes, yes. I *know* that it is too soon for the new medicine to work. And I am just having an "ok" day which I have anyway, from time to time.
But I am worried that I am having high blood sugar and that I am developing diabetes. I have been getting dizzy - for no reason, and then getting nauseated - for no reason. Oooh, and let's not forget - oops, already forgot. (OOPS! ALREADY FORGOT!!!)

Well. I have no idea what I was going to write there. Moving on.

Anyway, I'm going to start checking my sugar and see where I stand. Really, not looking forward to that. I did look online and a couple of different sites read that if you exercise, eat right and shed a couple of extra pounds, you can effectively stave off diabetes.
So here's hoping!

Doctor. And Sad.

I went to the doctor today to get a refill and tell him I'm taking more of the med than he prescribed.
And he added on Cymbalta. And this stuff, yeah, it's supposed to be like a miracle drug. So let's see if it produces some miracles.
And I was really sad thinking about things. And the sun was not out --which always makes me sad. And then trying to explain to the doctor that I don't want to get as bad as last time. That I'd rather be dead than get that depressed and get that lost again. But I don't want to say that - because I don't want him to get all worried that I'm going to do myself harm. Because I don't want to do myself harm. And as I don't really believe in an afterlife - unless there is reincarnation - I don't want to be nothing under the ground. So, yeah, I don't want to be dead. At least not yet.
___________________

But!
I did text every one. And I did say - Hey, let's have a dress up party. And I put constraints on it. To Not Spend Money. Because, let's face it, we're all poor.
So my idea was this: Go pull something, some concoction out of your closet. Something we, hopefully, haven't seen before. A weird combination of clothing and turn that into a costume. So you could be slutty or dirty or fancy or a hipster doofus. I guess you could wear pajamas or that fancy, fancy dress that you bought but don't have an occasion to wear. That was my idea.
Plus, make it a pot luck. And everyone bring one bottle and we'll mix them all together and make a witch's brew.
We voted and Saturday night seems to be the night.

Something to look forward to. I hope it goes well.

I'm hoping that I am not too fat to wear this pretty, fancy, stupid dress that I bought - for no purpose other than it was on clearance and was sooo pretty, I couldn't not buy it. Let's see shall we?

Wish me luck.