the plague of 2013, or why i just spent $60.00 for a 16 oz. bottle of the most disgusting thing i've ever tasted

oh hai. that's me in the photo above. gazing longingly at the trail i used to run. back when i could, you know, run and not be weary. take note of my scapula/bird wings beneath my highly attractive green jacket.

i'm sick. was sick. for a few weeks in january, after which i enjoyed a brief week of supreme health, then a dive into the health pits of despair. hereafter to be known as the plague of 2013.

by the numbers [since i'm remembering fondly the past years in which i was preparing 800 tax returns right about now and i miss working with numbers all day every day. <--- a lie]:

1, 2, 3, 4 and FIVE: number of different types of antibiotics i have consumed.

4: number of night terrors about murder caused by the meds. [why do i always dream that my loved ones are murderers?! why?]

2: number of CT scans I had performed.

7: number of feet tall the giant radiologist named leroy who did my CT scans was.

3: number of blood tests ran.

134: amount i weighed in january.

116: amount i weigh today.

121: amount i weighed when i got married.

116: amount i weighed when my nickname was skeletor and a frenemy spread a rumor at school that i was anorexic.

1: number of times my pants FELL OFF whilst i was errand running. my skinny jeans are baggy. MY SKINNY JEANS ARE BAGGY.

3: number of minutes i can stand without feeling like my muscles are going to collapse.

1: number of days i have left to take antibiotics #4 and #5.

>2,000: number of dollars i have spent in doctor's offices, hospitals, massage therapists, and pharmacists.

and guess what? still not feeling great. at all. which is why i bought this today:

didn't blink an eye at the $60.00 price tag. i bought the biggest bottle they had. chugged the suggested dosage of one tablesoon. and then i blinked an eye. or maybe it was more of a fluttering twitch of several rapid blinks because i can tell you for certain. MOST GROSS THING I'VE EVER TASTED OR WILL EVER TASTE. more gross than that weird black indian candy my friend brought back from audi arabia in 7th grade. (that was the second most gross). more gross than castor oil.

guys, it's so gross. of course it's gross. what can you expect with the 3 main ingredients being raw garlic, raw honey, and raw apple cider vinegar? and i'm supposed to chug a tablespoon an hour. how, i don't know, but i'm going to do it if it kills me. unless the plague kills me first.

if i die, i would like to leave my book collection to brook. and i would like my unfinished novels to be completed by my sister angela and her husband and published posthumously. please try not to make them too funny or people will know it wasn't really me writing them. i would like my organs donated. and i would like my sister anna to come clean my desk and basement and throw away my free write journals before anyone else goes through my things.

goodbye for now, cruel world.

but i thought you finished your book.

when i finished the first draft of my second novel, i joyfully told EVERYONE I KNEW. the same way you'd tell everyone if you'd completed a marathon. or graduated from college. or, you know, BIRTHED A CHILD.

it was a great accomplishment and a triumphant moment. but then something kept happening. people started asking me the same question. it started about a week after i'd finished the first draft. in passing conversation, i happened to mention that i was spending about 6 hours a day writing. and this dear person, who probably loves me more than anyone else in the world, asked me:

but i thought you'd finished your book?

then same thing happened again with someone else. and then again. and it hit me: there MIGHT be a couple of things that the normal person doesn't understand about writing, or writers, or maybe just about me. and of course it falls on my shoulders to correct this injustice.

and so. two things. first: writing is rewriting. i've never heard of any published novelist who wrote a perfect first draft and never changed a thing. many writers i know spend AT LEAST as much time revising as they do first-drafting. i'm no different. it took me about nine months to write the first draft, but that was writing about 1 hr a day. and i suspect it'll take me about that many hours to rewrite and revise until i feel like it's ready for the publishing world.

and here's the other thing. even when i am done with this second novel, even when it feels complete and like it's as good as i can make it on my own, even if it gets published, EVEN IF IT NEVER GETS PUBLISHED, even then i'll still be writing. because it turns out i love it, and it makes me feel alive and energized and there are so many stories i have to tell.

and i have a sneaking suspicion that even after i die, i'll still be making up stories. i'm just not sure the publishing process will be the same in heaven.

follow my pinterest board here to see the image sources from above and to see what's inspiring my next story.