Ok. I have a lucky fish, and I've been told that I'm "lucky". My chances getting of this shit is 0.03%. My chances of getting sick to point that I did yesterday is 0.02%. Fuck! Why, with my great odds, can't I just win the lottery or something?

Side note: the shot I got today and will receive 7 more times costs $8000 a pop, stick, and slight pain.

Another note: How can illegal immigrants be bleeding ME dry when it takes $30 bucks till fill my gastank while Exxon and Chevron have BOTH experienced record level profits? Fucking fuckers.

At least I can get my fastfood and my plants cheap! Vive Mexicanos! Where's Che when you want him? Hmm...That's right he's under a landing strip.

Chemo will not be fun. I got my injection(s). I have hard time focusing on letters, and I think this is making me sick. Quick very quick. I got what I'll call evil Koolaid and a clear drug. I feel stoned but without the munchies or paranoia. I have 17 days till my hair falls out. It's (side effects) supposed to really kick in tomorrow. yuck. I gotta do it. Take care ladies and remember to get mamgrams and feel yourself up a lot or have someone else do it.

Ok. Chemo starts tomorrow. I'm ok aside from an embarrassing bit of crying on the front porch at FS Monday. To get ready for this I got the Pinkie vaccinated for Kindergarten, got the chihuahuas vaccinated before they become rabid, and I've cleaned cleaned cleaned every fucking inch of my pigsty except for my room. It's still an absolute fright. Eh. Administrative paper cowpoop that keeps piling up just showcasing my half assed attempts at managing my life!

You know I think I've done more preparation for this than for my pregnancies. Ok, maybe not. I didn't scrub light switches or mouldings. Damn. I definitely got fewer presents. Maybe...people could have chronic illness showers! Complete with pretty packages and potato salad. Maybe those silly mints that you see at weddings and showers. They could be colored according to the representative color of the individual sicknesses.

Tomorrow I think I'll force my mom to sit through a kung fu movie while I get my injection. I'll let ya'll know how delightful it is. I'm talking chemo not my mother.

Layers of dirt, dead matter, minerals, heat and pressure form rock over eons. In my life, pressure has formed rock in my 32 years of existence. I have yet another form of pressure to add to the list of things that push me into unwanted circumstances but that strengthen my determination to better my situation.

My son is my (s)mother. How can an 8 year old think that he can decide what you eat and how much you drink? Ok. He does have concerns that younguns just should never know about. I didn't know about cancer. I knew about other horrible stuff, but noone I knew had anything that could spread like an invasive weed throughout the body.

By the way, cancer and weeds will probably be the subject of another blog since we're going into the growing season.

Back to layers....my bits of consciousness that poke and pester me to be healthier. Could I have a healthier lifestyle? Well..yes, I could stop drinking (I will try during chemo) and eat more organic things (I'll have to work on the miser in me) and cook from scratch (I don't...no). I do love physical activity, and Goddess willing I'll be able to ride my bike on chemo!

My son is picking over my food. "Mom, you're not supposed to eat cheese." It's cheese for fuck's sake! "Mom, did you drink all that alcohol in one night?" He's looking at my recycling that has sat on the side of my house for almost an entire year. Aye. A little pressure can go a long way!

Hee hee. My mom's a good 'un. Her: "Do you know what the ink in your tattoo is?" We were discussing my snake (family) tattoo. Me: "uh, no mom. But do you know what the pesticides, that you and dad sprayed in the house (and on my bed), could do to a growing child?" She actually conceded to that. Sometimes she does surprise me.

She's conservative only on the basis of abortion, death penalty, and guns. She does, however, have a strong belief in education, social welfare for the needy, family (and how our market system does not give a hoot about it), and a burgeoning sense of environmentalism and healthy lifestyles being interconnected. She also doesn't judge single moms (as long as they're on the look out for a man) and will defend a "lady of ill repute" when it comes to violence towards women. I swear, I'll be able to turn her away from the dark side someday.

But this is not about her or her beliefs. This is about me. It IS my blog.

The next direction of pressure is the father (not babydaddy, Personal Assistant, Assooze, etc.). My father is still pushing those nutrients like a crack dealer in DC. Damn. Maybe I should say...like a fundamentalist christian talking to their "dying" heathen daughter. As if. "Not dying here or anywhere else for an extremely long time. So please back it off," said heathen daughter.

Now to the last. This is Babydaddy, Personal Assistant, Assooze, etc. Wow. You'd think a guy would go out to get laid if he keeps being told "no". That's all I'll say about that.

So back to being a rock. I don't like diamonds (Not my son's friend, Diamond...the rock diamond). I think they're tacky and not in a good way. I love stones where you can see the veins of other minerals streaming through them. Goddess, I love jade! I love garnetts and amythysts. I love the deep earth tones that you can see while driving through the southwest and west. I love seeing fossils in them! I love the look rocks bring when they're placed stategically in gardens either English or Asian. They are beautiful, and they are reminders that existence goes on and on even though you don't.

So, when I'm accused of being a lizard with no emotions, I'll just remind myself and the accuser that with all the pressure from circumstances and people over my lifetime, I've become quite a beautiful stone. Maybe not precious to them, but definitely to those who count.

Dj Shadow has song called "Midnight in a Perfect World". I heard it the other morning, and it got me to thinking. What does he mean by "perfect"? The song is beautiful and only slightly melancholic. Great for driving on a quiet city highway if that could be possible.

I kept thinking. Silly, It's already perfect. We have extremely beautiful and precious and extremely painful and horrible events that happen each every second this place (earth) exists. Hey. I got cancer. Someone else raised their offspring into adulthood without a hitch. Genocide is occuring in the Dar Fur. The plants are waking and blooming. Slavery exists. My dear friend Marty is helping rescue women and girls out of it right here in the USA. See? Beauty and divine along with demonic and sick.

I know this heavy and cheesy. It's just the stuff I'm thinking about. So then what am I getting at? Well let's see. I don't consider this hell. I don't consider this heaven. I know folk who believe these ideas. I don't believe in them now or after this existence. One without the other seems sorta....unharmonious. If in order to have life there must be other life to feed off of. That life then dies. So how can this system be considered "imperfect" when everything (lifecycles and what not) is set up so perfectly?

How can I think "perfect" with my left tit gone? My existence and those of others that I hold very very dear don't really matter much in the grand scheme of things. We're insignificant. You guys ARE significant to me but not to nature. Things get shit on without it being personal. I understand this and hold no grudges. I just want this rollercoaster of a life to calm down and roll without the crazy peaks and valleys.