Too Long

It's been too long since I've seen some friends--Cherilyn, Susan, Paul, and a host of others…

And it's been too long since I've painted anything I'm proud of… I've finally painted something, but it is sort of lopsided. Okay, it sucks. And it's been forever since I've really painted consistently.

It's been too long since I've played piano. Once a week is not enough by far, and once a month is pathetic. So my piano adherence lately has been pathetic…

But it hasn't been too long since I've worked on my novel. Worked on it yesterday, as a matter of fact, and I'll be working on it all afternoon while I sit with my hubby, who will be getting his weekly chemo. I've made time for writing for well over a month now, and I won't stop.

In fact, I hope to find even more time to devote to writing.

So, if you see only a few posts from me, it's because I'm working on my novel, or my play, or my poetry.

Or maybe because I've finally sat at the piano again. *sigh*

On Chemotherapy and Being Alone

Richard begins chemotherapy Monday.

And he's tense. And that means I'm tense. But as much as I can sympathize with him, and even though I'm driving him to it, sitting with him, and driving him home, he's really alone.

I'm not getting chemotherapy. Just him. Honestly, I feel as if I shouldn't even be writing this, like it's not my story to tell, for I'm not the one living through cancer. I'm just holding his hand, encouraging, and driving around a person who is living through it.

No matter how much we share, and no matter how much I want to help, Richard is alone. Utterly. I saw the horrible room where he'll sit each Monday and be administered his Gemzar through a port under the skin of his right chest area. I saw patients sitting there the day we toured, sitting and waiting, hooked up to machines filling them with their own particular brand of poison.

Now that I think of it, the room is pretty big, though… and those other people are going through what he's doing. Some of them have probably gone through it more than once.

So when we're sitting in that room Monday afternoon, I hope Richard will find others to talk to besides me… people who can help him feel less alone. People who can touch him through their words. People who bring their hope with them to chemotherapy, who bring their smiles, who bring their fears, who share these, so that Richard can hear, can bring his own thoughts, and can even encourage others.

Maybe then he won't be so alone.

Taking Myself Seriously

I bet millions of people have checked out this blog in the MONTHS since I last wrote on it. And then they left.

Yup, they read the title, realized I was serious about this whole not writing stuff, and left.

I don't blame them.

One could say that I took my own words too seriously. Yup. I seriously decided I wouldn't write anymore (dammit!) and seriously took steps to make sure I didn't.

But one would be wrong.

You see, I didn't write here because I didn't take my writing seriously. I had decided NOT to be serious about my writing. As a result, I didn't write. Day after day, night after night, opportunity after opportunity, I let the voices in my head talk my out of writing.

Not anymore.

I vow, from this day forward, to take my writing seriously. Seriously, I do. I changed my profile. I quit my job. I have been slowly weeding all sorts of distractions out of my life to make sure I have room for writing, to make sure I have time to take writing seriously.

So, if you've checked back here a few times, come again. I'll be here. And if you just happened on this blog by chance, come back.

Or don't. Either way, I'm seriously writing.