How to Spend: Time, Money, Effort, Intention

I have a few ventures in the works. I can't do them all, but I can choose. Just about all of them will take a lot of money and a commitment. I'm ready, but for which one? I'm still sorting that out. In an effort to get some rest, I'll lay them out here:

1. Investing in Mike's pub
2. Moving to ABQ (not bloody likely and not entirely up to me)
3. Moving to Chicago (not where I want to wind up for longer than a year, but potentially VERY lucrative, and entirely up to me)
4. Buying a VERY expensive camera and making movies with Butch

One.

He has a very good business plan. And I could stand to get out of the copywriting business altogether, if it takes off. And I trust him implicitly. Especially since we both insist on writing absolutely everything down in legal contracts. But my initial investment would be $20,000. I'd have to rearrange my finances, maybe take a small loan and work behind the bar some weeknights and weekends, to pull my weight in my own investment.

Two.

Probably wouldn't take more than $10,000 to do exceptionally comfortably and conservatively, accounting for not having a job for six months, plus moving expenses. The money isn't a problem but the.. intention is. On both sides. And it seems like a worse idea by the day. The longer someone takes, the harder it'll be to convince me. And I must accept the reality that no one seems interested in convincing me.

Three.

Very risky and still, somehow probably the safest bet. I'd clear $135,000/year up there, would only have to stay a little while, could enjoy the amenities of a much larger city and already know people there. But I don't want to live in Chicago. Hum, a possibility but not tugging at my heart or poking my sense of adventure in the eye, particularly.

Four.

I can do this in a month. It'll eat up every hour of my weekends and nights for at least a year, likely more, but it may be just what we need. Although very expensive (for the kind of camera we require), it's the cheapest option.

Whatever I do, I need a shakeup. And I'm not waiting for someone else to help me do it. Ok, actually, this list is complete bullshit. These are real, but the big things I'm too afraid to write down. I'm going to do something, but some of them I can't come back from and make another choice once I've done them. That gives me pause. But I won't pause forever. It's just not in my nature. And if the last five years have taught me anything, it's that I can't ever again sacrifice the things in me that feel natural.

In a couple weeks, I find out if the cancer stayed away. Great.

Speaking of being sick; I felt shitty all weekend, but went everywhere anyway, and got myself a robust stomach virus. This morning was spent heaving into the toilet until my back muscles ached and throbbed and failed to hold me aloft. Then I cranked a scalding shower, lay down on the bathtub floor and had a feverish spell, slipping in and out of sleep and fever dreams and moaning until the water was icy or I was jolted awake by water filling my nostrils.

It's very rare that I'm this ill. Maybe only three or so times in my entire life. I've never had anyone there to help me, though I always start moaning the same words each time it's happened: "help me... help meee." I wonder what it's like to actually have someone help me? I've helped nurse boyfriends back to health lots of times, but due to infrequency and winding up with assholes, I can't say I've had anyone hold my hair or dote or smooth my forehead or rub me comfortingly or wipe my brow with cold washcloths or feed me soup or make me drink water or any of the same for me.

I drug myself out of bed and clocked in, working remotely for a few hours to make deadlines. I over-communicated with my boss and put myself in the car, then drove the 30 minutes to see my doctor. As I sped along, still feeling half-feverish, my spine felt like it was made of corduroy. A stiff fabric that folded in on itself as soon as you propped it up and expected it to hold the weight of itself. I was like a floppy sock monkey, being pulled along by the car. I may have been operating it, but only by the tiniest part of my toe as I pushed the gas. The rest of my body was very aware of being pulled through the distance, as if my floppy body was being led by string connected to my sock monkey belly button.

I'm so angry at you, and you don't know it. And you aren't supposed to because you're supposed to be selfish right now. But at the same time, I wonder what did you think was going to happen? What did you honestly think and intend to happen? And how could you leave it that way? When I fight and am hurt by someone, time doesn't make it better. It makes it worse. It makes it fester and grow because each passing hour that it doesn't grate on you shows a measure of how much you don't care. Fuck you.

Time to slip back into unconsciousness.