tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15937268.post-64790338832526037362008-01-29T22:18:00.000-08:002008-01-31T13:22:15.960-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_k4pet2qj64M/R6Ad83tSd1I/AAAAAAAAAmc/7rUbqHsDdJc/s1600-h/IMG_2761.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_k4pet2qj64M/R6Ad83tSd1I/AAAAAAAAAmc/7rUbqHsDdJc/s320/IMG_2761.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5161158104549848914" border="0" /></a> IF I DON'T WANNA WRITE ABOUT IT, DOES THAT MEAN I HAVE A SHALLOW INTERIOR LIFE? So I've decided to give this a try. A common snippet of advice one hears when enduring a difficult time in one's life is to write things down as to better deal. To 'get things out' in order to 'let go' of sadness or frustration. I've never been an overly-contemplative person however. Writing bad poems with lots of thunderstorm imagery as a teenager aside, I've never gotten through a tough time by sitting down and writing/reflecting about/on it, then going back to read about the misery time and again. I think I would be a terrible Buddhist, maybe the noisiest one disturbing all the other monks. I do much better when I can distract myself from the difficult time by doing something active, something physical even. When people tell me that I should write about my experience, I feel like they think that by me doing that, the difficult situation will evaporate, or will become less difficult. By dealing with things my way, the distract-myself-by-go-go-going method, I am temporarily relieved of what ails me and completely free of it. Then I come back to the reality I am dealing with and it keeps my head on straight about what to expect from life. While I certainly would do whatever it takes to avoid a complete mental breakdown, or deter a seeping and aggressive depression, I sort of WANT to fully experience the difficulty that has defined my life for the past 3 years. This experience is one that I will never forget, one that is most likely going to be the definitive period of my life on Earth and will shape and alter my identity like no other experience will. I don't want the difficulty to evaporate. I am in it, it is real now, and it is what is defining me as a human being. It is NOT going to go away, so I better learn to accept and survive a bit o' suffering. The social worker at the UCSF Transplant Clinic keeps pestering me, saying I should see a counselor, or do some yoga to deal with the stress of my situation. I dunno, I don't feel too terribly stressed about it. I have my ups and downs for sure, but more along existential lines. Why do I have this disease when I have taken care of my body my entire life? Am I being cheated out of a full life experience because of my disease? Why the f*ck can't I go scuba diving!?!?!!? ha Am I gonna die on the table? But stress and depression have not figured too significantly in my life since my diagnosis, except right in the beginning when I was completely shocked at the news about what was happening to the old body. Anyhow, she keeps telling me to do yoga or whatever, and I got tired of her bugging me so I just lied and told her I was taking Pilates. Not the same as yoga, I know. But she knows that I am not terribly metaphysical so I thought she'd believe that I'd take Pilates before yoga. (I got turned off of yoga the second or third time I tried it. Too metaphorical for me. "Breathe into the leg...." What???) hehe So yeah, I am going to have a double lung transplant any day now. Just waiting for a poor smooth Asian teenager to crash his Mitsubishi Lancer so I can get his lungs. It sounds cold, but that is how it happens folks. That is how organ donation works, for lungs at least. I am writing this on a cold Tuesday night, just got home from the ballet. I saw a mixed program tonight at the SF Ballet. Some contemporary stuff, 'Filling Station' by Christensen, '7 for Eight' by SFB's artistic director Helgi Tomasson (don't really like his stuff) and 'Diamonds' by Balanchine. Ahhh. Diamonds. So lovely. Seeing the ballet is one of those things that helps me deal. I know that I want to live when I see ballet. And I can still dance, although I have to take it easy in class during certain portions of class, like petit allegro and grand allegro. Now during ballet class, that is really when I totally (ok, almost totally) forget about this weird thing happening to my lungs. Ok, night! Gonna warm up by squishing some cats that have been camped out by the heater all night (see picture above, hehe, that's Cheddar who is going to be fondue soon!)! cul_de_sachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10948411175673759493noreply@blogger.com