2005-02-24 - 1:50 p.m.

I'm breathing so shallow today. My mind is stopping and contemplating every breath. I'm feeling my lungs expand, I'm tasting the stale office air, it's all rushing out of me far too fast. How many more breaths do I have? Should I take the time and appreciate every single one before they run out?

My uncle (technically my great uncle) is in the hospital. Penumonia they think, combined with the cancer and the treatments, it's not a get better soon hallmark kinda moment. This is the uncle that took my mom in, treated her like a daughter, kept me when she and my dad were working...

Basically he and my aunt are my second parents. They've showed up for graduations, soccer games, birthdays...

What is this cancer bullshit? We can clone a sheep, we can send people to the fucking moon, we can even perform brain surgery. And yet somehow no one can cure this fucking crap. I can go online and watch someone have a heart transplant while simultaneous bidding for a guitat on an electronic auction, ordering perscriptions to be delivered to my door and listening to volumes of music... but somehow we can't figure out how to cure this rediculous disease.

I envision some evil half-robot, half evil scientist laughing in a castle in the mountains, holding a glowing green vial that's labeled "Cure to Cancer." Let's get some spread guns (cuz laser and machine gun just doesnt cut it *obscure contra reference) storm the castle and do what our scientists are either too retarded or too lazy to do.

My mom turned 50 today. I called to say I love you and then all the sudden the dams burst. I spent the entire drive home for lunch explaining in great detail how much I love her and how's she the best thing in my life. How every success I've had is directly related to the way she raised me, how every complement I've ever been given really belongs to her and not me, and how I need to see her more often and tell her these things in person.

It's funny to see a grown man crying with a smile on a cell phone in his SUV.

So people close to me are fighting for their lives, and thus I refuse to take pity on myself these days. I am in love with the world and the people in my life. I love them so much sometimes I feel like my fucking heart is going to explode and cover entire square miles with nothing but bright red blood as a testament to the amount of love that's pumping through my veins.

I will always have problems, I will always have addictions, I will always win and I will always lose. But I will no longer wallow in self pity, unable to get through my day, complaining about work or relationship problems...

There isn't anything in my life that is bigger or more important than my family and friends. Everyone is always bitching about their fucking jobs or schedules. Guess what. There will be plenty of time to do absolutely nothing when you're dead.

So like I hinted last entry, I choose to live. I choose to work, I choose to play soccer, I choose to find physical and emotional solace, I choose to learn music, I choose all these things.

And I have no apologies for any of it. And neither should you. Get up. Do something with your day. Each and every one of you. Lord only knows what are days would be like if we all woke up with one goal in mind. Live. Stop worrying. Stop making excuses. Live.

It's a disjointed entry. It's not pretty, poetic, clever, etc... But you're fucking reading it. Are you too proud to let it soak into your skin? Are you too worried about yourself to absorb some of this? It's not advice from me, it's just good ideas. So if that helps, don't think of it as something I said. Think of it as general health advice. Or don't listen.

All I know is your friends could really use you right now.

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