Grateful 365 #14 – Imagination

I often take pride in distinguishing  myself as person who is rarely bored, but Id have a much tougher time with it were it not for all the constant companionship of my imagination.

emote time outFunny anecdote–I remember exactly when I figured out that “grown-ups” didn’t dedicate the same amount of time and headspace to imaganeering as kids did. It was in the car on the way back from Florida with my father. I’d likely been forcing him to listen to either my singing or some horrific JPop compilation the likes of which would melt the brain of anyone without serious parental love. (Parental love, +5 against all Pop-based attacks!)  I, of course, needed whatever din I had concocted. Without it, the melodramatic showdown between some heroine or another and her arch nemesis inside my head would have no background music!  He had very nicely (I sometimes have NO idea how he did it!) asked for a stretch of silence. Silence. To think. I remember asking what exactly he thought about and how often he thought about such things, and honestly don’t remember what the answers were.

emote broken

emote bored tvI can tell you that there wasn’t much time dedicated to leotarded amazonians kung-fuing their way out of an alien base though. It was then that I realized that adults didn’t always have some story or make-believe overlay running rampant in their heads…and I remember being stricken with a creeping terror at the thought. Day by day the worlds that I’d built would crumble. The characters I’d made would fade into disuse until I didn’t remember their names or how they acted. Everything I had created and the very mechanization by which I was able to create…it would all slip from between my fingers. It would only be on some bleak, boring night that I would recall with horror that I had once had something, now unrecallable, to occupy the space now beset by worries and daily tasks…

emote tut tutI’m no Neverland wistful, mind you; I like reality just fine. Still, it’s interesting the visceral way I can still recall that sensation. Maybe there’s still some of that fear gnawing somewhere in my subconscious.  If anything, it proves just how much I love the magical ability to suspend disbelief and reimagine reality.

Well, age and responsibility have certainly mandated I make some room and time for all those daily tasks and worries, but I still find relief in imaginings of all sorts at times that often catch even me by surprise.

emote worm

I wonder what it might be like to be my friend’s pug while we walk her. My mind’s eye adjusts to the notion of viewing the world from only a few feet high and smelling messages left by others of my kind in the grass. The knowledge I’ve gained has only aided my fantasies. A pug view, like most dogs, would be missing certain colors. Pheromones would light up different receptors in my brain, and from there it’s sheer conjecture.

shadow grin

I imagine ghosts and ghouls in the darkness when I walk. I play superhero in plain sight. I still crank the JPop and enact melodramas and fight scenes in my head…but now I write them down in an effort to share what has always brought me such joy with others.  I give stories to  the blandest games and concoct soap operas about my cats.

Whether real life is at its best or at its worst, there’s always excitement and refuge just a few thoughts away, and I’m so grateful for that ability and reprieve.

I hope I’m never bored– that the creeping decay of wearied living never reaches the bright, glowing (probably caramelly) center of my mind. Living is brighter with imagination, and imagination is constantly fed and nourished by the experiences and input of the world around me.

Remy's imagination

I’m grateful for my imagination, my rose colored constant company~!

~all the love~


Hi. My Name is Remy and I Have Cancer.

One thing that a cancer diagnosis is really good at is stealing your motivation.
It’s scary.
It’s unknown.
It’s isolating.
It fills your head with a billion and two possibilities and manages to ensure that none of them are good.
It steals your sleep.
It takes everything pleasant about your normal days and paints them black and white and awful.
It grows mundane worries into towering monsters.
It hates distractions.
It hates being ignored.
It refuses to be denied.

…And this comes from someone who, up until recently, was so in touch with denial-
*wait for it*
– she was nearly an Egyptian citizen.

Seriously though? Jokes aside? Cancer is just as scary as 9 out of 10 movie monsters you see in theatres…and that goes for EVERYBODY around it. It scares the host, it scares their family, their friends…

It’s the boogieman, plain and simple. It doesn’t matter if he’s in the closet or under your bed or in the attic or a million miles away in outer space… Once you hear from an expert that the boogieman is hunting YOU or someone you love, it’s hard to think about much else.

639px-Bluestone_the_Great_unmaskedGood news though!
Waiting is one of the hardest part and waiting ends.
The boogeyman is a liar and wears a rubber mask.
Simon and Garfunkel were right; no man is an island.
…and motivation is a hard beast to kill indeed.


I guess at this point, it behooves me to introduce myself before I lose you in another convoluted analogy.

Hi~! ^-^ /130501-025043
My nom de plume is Remy and I love to write, play video games, and pay the bills by teaching swim lessons.
Lately, I’ve been fortunate enough to land a position reporting on anime conventions for For the first time ever, I’ve been able to attend some of my favorite events as “press”!
It’s a step closer to my dream of finally becoming a “writer”– someone with the ability to capture other people’s imaginations with the product of their own.
I’m a linguaphile, can be incredibly silly, and, despite my love of dark concepts and humor, generally have a pretty sunny outlook. (At least I like to think so!)
I have great faith, a wonderful family, rewarding work, amazing friends, and two pets that mewl and came with a box for poo.
I also happen to have recently been diagnosed with cancer.

I just got through my first session of ABVD chemotherapy and it’s only now, on day 4 of treatment, that I have the motivation and ability to begin this journal.


It’s mostly selfish.
Writing is a coping mechanism for me, and I am still scared as hell.
The author is never the victim…
(…except in Stranger than Fiction and Misery…and ….sort…of in Secret Window, Secret Garden? Actually King tends to make authors the antagonists, but I digress. Another topic for another time.)
…and thinking through a keyboard puts me in a different state of mind.

However, as green as I am to all of this, and selfish reasons aside- I would feel better if these words helped.
If they help someone understand what a loved one is going through.
If they help someone approach treatment with a better idea of what to expect.
If my ridiculousness can help produce a smile in a dark time.
I have already found SO much comfort in the experience and knowledge of others myself, and can only offer my best as I’m still a newbie myself.
I’m no doctor. I’m no example. I’m no worst case or best case or expert or veteran. All I can promise is honesty and an effort to check my sources when source checking is involved.

I’m just me, wannabe writer Remyelle, and I have cancer–lymphoma to be exact.

Actually, to say  “lymphoma” is not exact by any means, but we can get to that in a minute.

Not Exactly How I Planned to Start This

I’ve been planning to do a lot of things for a very long time.

I’ve been planning to create the epic fantasy series I’ve had in my head since I was small.

I’ve been planning to learn how to play the ukelele and the guitar and maybe a few extra instruments as time allowed.

I’ve been planning to brush up on my Japanese and then learn more. Maybe even try for some semblance of fluency.

I’ve been planning to read more.

Learn more.

Go out more with my friends.

Do more at work.

Report more often for the webzine I’m fortunate enough to write for.

Try making articles for other ‘zines too.

I’ve been planning to get my name out there…by any means possible.

…I’ve been planning a wordpress of my own for awhile, but I never seemed to find the ‘right time’.

Funny how it’s never the “right time“, isn’t it?

Not “ha-ha” funny, but enough to make a girl smirk at herself.

Well…it’s still not the right time. Not at all. It’s the wrong time.




My headspace is all messed up. I keep vacillating between hero and victim and protagonist and auxiliary character and all the spaces in between. I’m the luckiest vagabond pauper queen victim warrior in all of how-many-ever worlds there might be. I’m at my best, worst, and most indifferent…and I’ve never cared more about leaving a mark.

I’m not writing this blog because I need something to do–
I have a job and a lot going on.

I’m not writing this blog because I finally realized that you can’t win if you don’t play–
I’m still terrified of failure and rejection and procrastinate and make excuses to deal with that.

I’m not writing this blog to build myself up or to tear myself down–
I’m too ambivalent about everything and anything to get beyond “pleased to exist”, honestly.

Most of all, I’m NOT writing this blog because I think I won’t get another chance–
Ambivalent, indifferent, or otherwise…I am still far too much of a narcissist to seriously imagine my own death before I’ve made something worthwhile to leave behind. Plus, I’m in no danger.

I’m writing this blog because I found out I have cancer…and that frightened me, consumed me, demotivated me. It spiritually, mentally, and physically messed with me to the point that the only reaction I see as reasonable now is to accept it as a challenge.

And Win.

I don’t take challenges often because I don’t take them lightly. I take them personally, spitefully, and with something to prove….and so I’m going to do my best to take everything that would hold me back or scare me off and craft it into something I can at least look at and say “Hey, I tried there. I didn’t give up or lose ground.”

Best case scenario? I make something like art or manage to help someone in a similar situation in some small way.

Trying is more than I’ve done in awhile. I’m rusty. I’m embarrassed it took some stupid clusters of “Cells Gone Wild” to get my attention. It’s not how I planned to start my wordpress…but here it is.

It may not be “the right time,” but it is the time.

Dr. Hodgkinstein? Chemo?

Bring It

…Bring it.