When the going gets tough, the tough get mowing. That's what I did, anyway. Then I baked cookies. Then I grabbed a couple of beers and sat in the backyard and grilled some chicken. It ended up being a peaceful, beautiful day. Yes, I sang the taters and they are doin' fine - happily unfurling their little tater leaves and enjoying their staid little tater existence.
Here we are at Monday again, another work week loomin' large. Oy vey.
I had a slight epihpany (can one have a slight epiphany?) yesterday (thanks JF). I write, therefore I exist. Nietchze would be so proud. Truly, it has become my raison d’être - the force behind my waking and moving through the day. It's more than just putting something out there that might be worthy (or not) of anyone else's perusal. It's the act itself that signifies. Sure, it helps that I've had several new readers tell me recently that I should be writing. One went so far as to say, "The world needs this story."
So, once again, I'm contemplating The Book. Over the years, and particularly this past year, I've thought of writing a book about the beautiful side of cancer. Yes, there is one. There are moments so pure in the experiences I've had (sadly, there have been many), so profound, and I wouldn't have met those moments in any other way.
I'd also like to write a somewhat ficticious account of my Grandmother's life. That notion has been with me a very long time. She was a fascinating woman, and I believe her story is not only worthy, but should be told. She's one of my heros. That one... well, I've pondered it for so long that I know exactly how I want to write it, and much of it is already in my head.
Ok. So. Who wants to pay my rent for a year so I can dance with the muse? As Shel Silverstein once said, "There's no present like the time."
For now... it's off to my day job. *heavy sigh*