Writing stopped being fun when I discovered the difference between good writing and bad and, even more terrifying, the difference between it and true art. And after that, the whip came down.
— Truman Capote
Writing stopped being fun when I discovered the difference between good writing and bad and, even more terrifying, the difference between it and true art. And after that, the whip came down.
— Truman Capote
The title means that I spent various meetings in my aspect of recovering cancer patient. I am a very classy, cool patient because Humphrey Bogart had it, and he is the ultimate of coolth. Therefor, this ultra-cool recently treated herself to two cancer meetings today, on right after another.
One meeting was working on getting our cancer center to be recognized as a properly qualified center.
The next meeting was about finding additional sources for a fundraiser. These funds will help younger researchers to develop their ideas and therefore become senior researches. Once they get funding from us, they have no problem dragging in more NSA money. So doesn’t that make us feel good? You bet.
That was the last meeting; I needed to get back home and flop down.
You know something’s a trend when someone buys the domain name….
Chautauqua, NY
There were 2 movies watched tonight, but I was there for only 1 and a half. I got there halfway through the first movie, Death at a Funeral. The second was Juno. That was a good one. I wish I’d seen the whole of the first one. Movies were shown after dinner. We had BBQ and cole slaw.
I am still a bit overwhelmed by thinking that it was a whole year ago that I was here last, and that I was very weak from the operation for cancer still. I am proud of being stronger. I still wonder what the answers are to all the questions that cancer brought with it, like “What’s the meaning of life?” and “What is Death and should I be afraid of it?” I don’t know if I’m a bit wiser than I was before my diagnosis. Oh, forget it, I am wiser than I was. But not in the way that I thought I would be.
Sometimes, it seems like I have two lives: one here in Boulder, one back in Cincinnati. I smoothy take up the reins of each as I arrive there. This is a very strange sort of double life.
But my memory has played tricks on me. I remembered to bring all of the camera’s cords and rechargers, just forgot the camera. I’ll rely on my trusty iPhone.
Last night, heading up the elevator, some people asked us if we’d had fun in our journey somewhere else. I was ready with an explanation, but Buck said we only really lived here part time. We’d live here more often if the animals were the transportable sort. Ask Barbara, I dare you, what happened when she tried to get our dog into her car. I worry about that animal….
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