Why was I born a poet? Why a poet? Why not something easy like a saint?
Elliott Baker
Click images for desktop size: "Trendsetter Cover" by Candas Pain won't kill you.
It might make you want to die, but that's just your choice.
Pain won't kill you. I'm pretty sure of that. Not having died I can't be dead certain, but I'm pretty sure.
Even mental hurt won't kill you. Honest.
The stuff we tell ourselves that lead to madness should be easy to ignore. Its the world out there that demands attention.
I had a pretty poor Memorial day Weekend. The high spot was getting to see the Cubs play the Dodgers on TV.
I ended up with 4 dogs. I was taken advantage of. People figure out pretty early on that I'm easy to manipulate when it comes to dogs and kids.
The four dogs kept me up and jumping around. I'm feeling bone fatigued right now, physically uncomfortable in every way. I put that all off on not being able to rest.
What I didn't like was that the two guest dogs weren't well behaved. One was just totally untrained and out of control wild, and the other is just old and used to being in charge. Lots of fight breaking up to do.
Then when the owners came back there were just cursory thanks, no little gifts or offers to pay for the extra food and stuff. I was treated like I performed a paid service instead of a favor and I didn't get paid . . .
They know I'm not healthy and that it was a trial for me. So now I pay the price and no not to do it for them again.
My puppy's Uncle Hank has cancer. I'm sad about this.
Very sad,
Animals don't understand why they hurt. This breed is more concerned with the people they watch over than they are for themselves. They shake off pain and discomfort and try not to worry the people they watch over.
It feels tragic.
Fatigue is catching up to me badly.
I hate fatigue. My muscle memory recalls what it presages and tries to help fight it. We'll be okay. I mean, I'll be okay. There's really no other option. My puppy keeps fighting to be close to me. I worry about her over empathizing with my health. It gives me cheer that something so simple and pure as a puppy cares enough about me to worry.
There's nothing to worry about really. Its just a phase of time.
Like pain is your body fighting back, reminding you that you are alive. That's why pain doesn't kill you. Pain is hope.
You're not supposed to like it but you have to know that it means your alive.
When I feel the worst I don't have pain. I have generic and specific numbness.
Not feeling is death.
Not feeling is worse than death.
This Saturday I have volleyball and pee wee football. The real pain would be in disappointing kids.
Do remember that scene in that old movie, "Mr Smith Goes To Washington"? Its where Harry Caray, playing the President of the Senate, looks down on Jimmy Stewart. Stewart is at the edge of his rope and about to quit. Caray looks at him and gives a half hidden sad smile.