I’m having one of those days.  I probably shouldn’t write on these days, yet obviously there’s a whole 800 words here cobbled into sentences and paragraphs.  The brain is limping today, so forgive me if I wander.

Sometimes cancer just sucker punches you in the face and screams, “I’m your worst nightmare and don’t you forget it.”  I don’t really have it in me to write about it today.  Besides, it’s not really a wooHOo-FRIDAY kind of subject.  But because I’m such unicorn loving, healing-thoughts-certainly-can’t-hurt type of girl, I’ll hit you with the good, the bad, and the ugly so you can send them each one warm thought today (or everyday) and then I’ll change the subject.

The Good – One of my dear friends just aced her most recent scan.  She has to have one every six months.  That brave, bad ass girl is breaking records and teaching those oncologists a thing or two about brain cancer.  You go girl.  Fist bumps and ass slaps all around!

The Bad – The news is in for Brandy’s boyfriend.  It’s myeloma.  Cross your fingers he responds well to treatment and sucker punches cancer in the balls.

The Ugly – Remember this guy?  Sadly the cancer is not responding to the chemo.  He’s currently being hospitalized for internal bleeding.  Once that’s under control, they’ll try a different course of drugs.  I don’t really even have the words to express how much his struggle shakes me to my very core – just a massive headache from tears I can’t seem to stifle.

Well.  If that doesn’t put you in the mood for a wild night with friends, I don’t know what will.  Just do me a solid – clink your glasses together three times and salute these fantastic fighters next time you’re toasting with your loved ones.  Now on with your regularly scheduled (though slightly less jovial) post for the day.

I write things down.  I’ve never had a stellar memory, even before I was dosed multiple times with toxic chemicals and radioactive fluids.  (By the by, why didn’t I get a super power from all that nuking?  Where is Stan Lee when a girl needs him, eh?)  To compensate for my lack of clarity, I write shit down.

I write stuff everywhere – on my wrists, in notebooks, on post-its, on gum wrappers, on the subscription cards that fall out of magazines, on celery, on stuffed animals, on personal flotation devices, on any damn thing I can find when I feel the need to not forget something.  Then I promptly forget where I wrote said information down.

99 cents Well Spent
99 cents Well Spent

I tried buying one of those mildly pompous moleskin notebooks, but I’ve lost three in as many months.  Now I buy the little 99 cent numbers at the drug store and consistently only use the first five pages before they are forgotten on mass transit or abandoned beneath a grimy booth in a dark bar.  I’m nothing if not consistent.

Most of the time it’s random little thoughts or quotes that really don’t NEED to be saved, so I don’t get too angsty when I can’t recall them on cue.  I figure they’ll come back to me, or they won’t, and either way its ok.  That makes them all the more amusing when I find them – unexpected, unexplained, unintelligible – on a folded napkin, in a pair of jeans from last winter, or inside a book I haven’t seen in months.

Yesterday I found a handful of such snippets.  For some, I remember the circumstances.  For others, I have no clue.  For whatever reason, they just struck a chord with me.  They may still resurface in later writings, but for now I just want to give them a more permanent home before I lose this notebook in a discarded piece of luggage.

  • “He was the best car I have ever dated.  I looked damn good in that truck.”
  • As a young girl, I often dreamt of peddling tits.
  • Jazz is for people that are exploring what they’re feeling and trying to put a name on it.  Blues is the result of knowing your own heart completely.  It’s what you sing when you already know why you’re hurting.
  • “I’m not that drunk.  My pants are just slippery.”
  • If I can learn to accept Classic Rock, can I someday learn to accept God?
  • “If she’d given herself credit for all that she had done, she might also have to admit what she gave up.”
  • “It’s all fun and games until he sticks a plantain up your ass.”
  • …riding in the back of an airplane watching all the heads sway in unison, like stalks of seaweed in the current.
  • I already died once.  It wasn’t half bad.

Does anybody else write down little one line snippets or a quick fragments of a thought?  Care to share one?


  1. First off I raise my glass to anyone facing the kind of adversity that the folks in the first part of your post are facing. That FUCKING sucks, I wish I had the kind of fortitude and skill set required to even start to deal with things like that. My mother is a candle lighting, stations of the cross suffering church goer so I’ll ask her to flick her bick twice over with the quadruple candle lighting prayers she does without fail every day just for these guys.
    You are not alone in writing shit down either. Sadly, I use bits of discarded scut and flyaway rippy bits of paper to jot down crap I can’t even decipher later. This causes my abode to resemble more of a crack house than a decent occupied dwelling with five people and two dogs but at this point there is no going back.
    .-= Kelly´s last blog ..The Great Interview Experiment- Part 2 =-.

    1. Word to your bic flickin’moms. I don’t know why that is so amusing to me…but it is. I need to see some photos of that crack-den-chic decorating style. It sounds like all kinds of fire codes would be shattered should you two shack up.

  2. Cancer sucks. I’m not sure I can say more about it. I lost a grandpa to it, which was hard and my great grandmother beat the hell out of it. If I ever get the choice to cure cancer or learning how to fly like Superman, I’ll still choose cancer.

    My notes usually exist on the back of once-printed papers and post-its, and are generally too hard to read later. I’ve also used Twitter like that in the past:

    “If i’m subdued, does that make me less of a dude?”
    “It’s only the appearance of sanity that counts.”
    “Quad shot espresso makes my pee smell like a candle.”
    .-= KeepingYouAwake´s last blog ..It’s a Hot Dog Mustache Party! =-.

    1. “Less of a dude” eh? Haven’t I given you enough fodder this week to take your lack o’ dude-ness to a whole new level? You really need to make that into a t-shirt…or at least a KeepingYouAwake thong for men.

    1. Dude. You never miss a chance to work “every time you masturbate, god kills a kitten” into a post. You do, however, completely forget about it when reading comments from your best-est stalker. I told you the brain was limping…

  3. Firstly I’ll be clinking those glasses for your friends…I knew there was a reason to wait a while to stop drinking. I know I could do it with water but it’s not quite the same?! I truly hope all goes well for all…

    Secondly, there are some freaky-ass quotes in there…peddling tits?? Interesting!! :0)
    .-= Eternally Distracted´s last blog ..Anyone for Sprinkles? =-.

  4. sorry to hear about your friends- hard times ahead, behind and right in the face.

    love your snippets – here’s what I heard and wrote down

    spit in one hand, hope in the other, which is going to fill up first?
    you have to pay to hear a guffaw in that place.
    Love that Elly (from numerous sources)

  5. Will raise the glass to all the fighters out there. Will do it as soon as I finish being a comment hog here.

    You realize what you were doing? You were twittering! On your arms. On the sheets of paper. On the 0.98 notebook pages! Those are some awesome tweets! You m’lady, are a pioneer to Twitter. Now go sue Biz Stone!
    .-= submom´s last blog ..Forget about WTF Wednesday… =-.

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