Does It Bear Repeating???

It's Friday! My most favorite work day! Given the warmer temperatures and the fact it is a celebration Sunday, I'm especially looking forward to this weekend. Anyone else out there catch yourself wishing your life away by counting the minutes until the weekend begins? I'm working hard at not doing that...not wishing away a single precious moment. But I swear, it is really hard not to keep my eyes focused on Fridays.

Since I've been growling and grumbling over my recent run-in with writer's block and the guilt that comes with not posting frequently, I decided to take a different approach to the situation. I'm going to re-post an old post of mine in hopes of finding a hint of inspiration somewhere.

For most of you, this will be new crap...errr...material. Last year I started a separate, more private blog, where I recorded my dating adventures. I've decided to resurrect a post from that blog... from way back when. That long-ago-almost-forgotten-although-it-was-only-months-ago time period when the "c" word was not part of my world.

Thanks to a gift of a now-one-of-my-most-favorite books from a special someone last week and because another super special someone gave me a Nook Color for my birthday, I've rekindled my love for reading. The gifts reminded me of the following post where I wrote about my long standing love affair with books and a comical occurrence during one of my visits to the book store.

Thanks for allowing me to stroll down memory lane and to those of you who were subjected to this with its original posting, please forgive the repeat performance.

Wishing you all a wonderful and most blessed weekend! -L

Thank You...I Think

Book stores are one of my loves. There's something about being surrounded by ink and paper that makes me smile. As I walk through the door, I feel a sense of peace yet excitement begins to pulse through my veins all at the same time. In my former life, when I seemed to have more time, I would wile away hours at Barnes & Noble. Often I could be found sitting in an aisle, books strewn all around me, deeply engrossed in story after story. Some days my passion would veer toward self-improvement manuals covering diet and fitness, fashion and relationships. Other days I would get lost in biographies, devouring details of the glamorous lives of others. I would log countless hours soaking up information on exotic locales, photography and art. I relished in technical manuals offering insight to web design, computer languages, accounting, marketing and small business ownership. Magazines were another source of entertainment. Stacks and stacks of periodicals would be precariously perched on the tiny table beside my tall-skinny-sugar-free-mocha-with-light-whip and I would flip through page after page concocting plans to incorporate the info from each article into my little world.

Knowledge is power. And books provide knowledge. For me, they also offer an escape. A way to vicariously live another life. To dream of bigger and better. They provide a window into worlds I will never experience. Books are my friends.

During all my visits to my most favorite haunt, I have never been approached by other customers. It is a time of solitude...something I expect and treasure. I never considered it a place for socializing. It is too difficult to start a conversation with someone totally engrossed in the written word. But last night was different. As I drove home from work, I had a sudden urge to visit my "friends". Given a lengthy list of chores awaiting me at home, the idea of losing myself among the pages of a craftily written tale was more than enticing.

Per my usual, I roamed the aisles gathering book after book then made my way to a vacant chair to begin my escape. It wasn't until I received a call from Keri that I noticed him. A guy sitting several feet away...and staring. I looked from side to side and behind assuming he most certainly would not be looking at me. But I was situated in a corner with nothing but walls of books surrounding me. Yes, I was the target of his stare. I politely smiled, continued my phone conversation then returned to my stories.

As I continued to sort through my selections, I began to have an eerie feeling come over me. Mr. Gazer kept staring...a strange, unsettling stare. After several minutes, I decided to move to another location in the store. And he followed. Thinking I was being paranoid, I did my best to stay focused on the task at hand but the stares continued. Mr. Gazer was ruining my mini-vacation. It was time to go home.

I quickly gathered my things and started to make my way toward the escalator. Mr. Gazer also stood to leave...but went the opposite direction. Breathing a sigh of relief, I emitted a tiny chuckle thinking I had been silly in my assumptions. I began to relax as I turned the final corner of the bookshelf maze and literally ran right into him.

Working to gather my composure, I tried to make my way around him but he was intent on striking up a conversation, yet he allowed no room for me to respond. Here is a recounting of his one-sided dialog...

"Do you know you are cute? Who does your hair? You really have a kissable face. You must be in real estate. I think you probably workout. Do you do lunges? You appear to have strong legs. I've been watching you and judging you, wondering if you are a good person. I often do that...evaluate the goodness of strangers. Your makeup is done just so...you did it right today. You are together but unapproachable. You must have been through a lot in your life. I just had to tell you I think you are cute. Did I say you have a kissable face...so, so cute. You remind me of my dog. Do you hike? Camp? Mountain Bike?"

I was rendered speechless. Didn't matter. He only wanted to hear himself talk. I finally asked with widened eyes and eyebrows raised, "So I look like your dog???" He smiled and continued with his monologue. I wanted to leave but my feet wouldn't move. Besides, I was somewhat trapped by the positioning of his body. I could turn and return the way I had come but my mind didn't register that thought at the time. I believe I was in shock. My escape came with the ringing of my phone. I muttered a half-hearted explanation that the call was important and pushed my way past him.

My question is this...was he for real? Did I fall prey to a sick pick up line? Did he truly think I would be flattered with his comments? And more importantly...do I really look like a dog???????????? *sigh* Well, at least I can console myself with the fact I'm cute and kissable.

The Silence Is Deafening...

I'm referring to this blog. My silence. On this here blog.

Oh how I want to write. How I need to write.

And I've tried.

I've sat at my computer...fingers poised and ready to type...and then...

Nothing.

All I get is nothing. How can that be? My mind is teeming with stories and thoughts that beg to be written. And still...

Nothing.

It isn't only here that I struggle. I rarely visit Facebook these days. And when I do, I can't even string a few words together to generate a status update. Or comment on the quips of others.

Emails sit in my inbox awaiting a reply. I've read them all. Then left them there. The number grows daily. And yet I do nothing.

Thank you notes are another issue. I have so many to write. I've been overwhelmed by the generosity of friends, family and even complete strangers. How can I not express my gratitude? I can't begin to count the times I've sat down with pen in hand and attempted to write a note of appreciation. Yet as with all other things requiring my cognitive skills these days, I simply get...

Nothing.

The silence is deafening. "Quiet" is not my style. It isn't a good thing. It has left me feeling empty and even worse...feeling guilty. But for now I can only say it is what it is.

In looking back over what I just wrote, it sounds as if I'm leaning toward being depressed...in need of medication. At the very least, it sounds like I need to drown my sorrows in a few drinks. But that's not the case. Not even close. I'm just suffering serious writer's block. Serious with a super-duper capital "S"!

I know a day is coming soon when life will return to normal. A time when my thoughts are no longer consumed with how to merge two full-time "jobs" and do them both justice. My normal 9 to 5 is anything but 9 to 5. I come in late. I leave early. I work all night. All this is done in an attempt to maintain the status quo and continue to earn my keep. All this is done because medical treatments, doctor's appointments and overall general health care are sucking up the remaining hours of my day.

However, the light at the end of the tunnel is in sight. Radiation has begun and should go quickly. Then life can begin to return to "normal"...whatever "normal" is.

Things have changed. They had to. And they will most likely change again. And again. And yet again. And that's okay. I just hope I can eventually get back to writing.

I miss it.

I don't believe this over-the-top-opinionated-chatter-box was ever meant to be silent.