Post 385: Feeling like used gum on someone’s shoe…
Creating feelings to be portrayed on TV is intentional and what most writers and directors are trying to convey to the watching public with great actors, with such energy. Feelings.
Lately while watching drama on tv I’ve felt that energy which heaps more misery (or sometimes laughter) in through my ears and eyes — I’m mostly alone gently sobbing as I go about my boring days. They pass so quickly, with, or more likely without, my Darling’s touch.
So it is with many others reading this blog, a blog and that barely scratches the surface of the day-to-day life of an early sixties soldier in the Prostate Cancer Corps; fighting the feelings within but mostly awaiting news of changes we cannot see but occasionally feel. And so it goes on, each day, the feeling that I’m doing nothing, just waiting for a test to prove what we feel inside is or isn’t another step down the dark and scary cancer steps, hoping not to get to the bottom one, not yet.
Being scared goes with the waiting and the boredom. It’s a mixture that most feel obliged to hide from and keep from everyone, including the doc. It’s better to look away, to never look into that mirror. The clear and always honest sheet of glass with that reflective silver-grey laminate causing us to look at ourselves with more clarity the older we are. It’s scary sometimes.
Why me? Why so long? Why so long between the downward steps? Why can’t we get on with it? I’m being eaten by a monster that’s always full and leaves me to fester. The monster has had enough lately there’s no space in its big black belly for me — it’s so full of other people’s cancer; not mine today. Just a nibble here and there in the slow and miserable PC way. How you guys stand having this monster biting you for ten or fifteen years I don’t know. I applaud your tenacity.
I spout the “every day is a bonus” type of mentality, with every breath being a bonus too. But all these bonuses are not helping me today.
I want to be realistic while I sit here swallowing my pills and reading books until I fall asleep. It’s just one of those dull days. The same line I’m reading a dozen times. The stories just out of the page seem close by all around the room until I turn around and it’s gone. Hallucinations straight off the page. I’m in the book and then dozing, dreaming, those lines I’m reading again and again.
I’ve no reason to be like this today but the cancer is sometimes uppermost in my mind, though I really don’t know why it’s a big issue today? It’s been a lot better lately and I’m close to getting back to work for those couple of hours. That will get me off my bed and in a uniform. To be at work, that’ll help.
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I should be making inroads towards writing that book. I sort of know what I want but I certainly don’t know how to start it.
If all long walks start with a step, does a book start with a small easy sentence?
Online help and phone numbers on established writing platforms are not my thing. I’d rather talk face to face and be led by visible teaching. Perhaps I should go to a book fair or book exhibition where questions can be asked to people who have the time to answer them. Perhaps that’s possible.
At least I’m thinking positively about it, anything is possible.
I’ve had a mental lethargy, maybe it’s the pills — but they haven’t changed. On occasions the blog is not what I’d like it to be. It fails because of my index trigger finger and the eyes closing, making it impossible sometimes to write anything at all. I hope you can forgive my ramblings. I sometimes have ramble too much especially after days of bed rest. It’s hard not to be able to do much because of a weakness. A tiredness. It’s not fair.
I do try and reread the blog before I’m finished but even then my eyes skip lines and read backwards with a poxy autism of some kind. It’s not bad or diagnosed, it’s just so annoying, it’s getting worse but could it just be tiredness making everything worse.
Everything’s a challenge.
Perhaps that’s where the book should start; looking out the windows in English lessons at school and fearing anything to do with Sir William Shakespeare. That was the place I look back on as a waste and a place of absolute fear. Words were my enemy. I couldn’t care less about the confusing rules (‘i’ before ‘e’ unless there’s an ‘r’ in the month) it made no sense to me.
In maths there’s only ever one right answer but in English it was the opposite; it seemed a complete nonsense.
I think I need an editor on this keyboard which can stop me making all the mistakes that I continue to make. Spell-check doesn’t even know what I’m trying to write most of the time. It’s so sad, sad that I don’t remember the spellings. I’m one of those that keeps making the mistakes differently, all the time.
It scares me to think about how long it would take to write a book, given all the mistakes and confusion I put the computer through.
At least I’m good at something, I’m good at being unable to spell. In fact I’d be a record breaker…
‘If you wanna be the best’, speak to Roy Castle.
I think I’ll watch a bit of K-drama and nod off. It’s all I’ve been doing — snoozing…
I didn’t know what I wanted to say today. I’m tired a feeling sorry for myself. But I’ll cast this day away and have a much better day tomorrow.
Take care
Good night
