What do I write about? I'm trying to organize all the bills I have to pay. I know payment agencies have to force the issue, but that totally makes me want to not pay them. I don't care about my credit score at this time; it's bad, and won't get better because I go hungry. So they can kiss my ass. Getting the vehicle ready to be driveworthy is more important. This will enable me to say "yes, I can pay this off" instead of "kiss my ass" to the collection agency. Hard luck story indeed. The entire US of A is undergoing a hard luck story. Gonna miss the Sexy Beast car. Almost as much as I miss my Michelle. Oh, saw another dog I would so want to have - but she's not good with cats! WAH!!! and I dn't have the time. Her name was Lucy, sne was a mini pinscher, tan colored, and just awesome face. sigh. I want another dog. I want a life of my own. I want to have my own things in my own place and be able to support myself without resorting to asking another for help. I want my own kitchen and my own bathroom and my own living room to setup as I please. I love having three jobs. I realize I am not happy the way others are happy. I am happy when I'm productive, when I'm moving, when I'm active and self-sufficient. Sitting and relaxing does NOT make me happy. off for other endeavors.

Scared, but with a solution in sight - i am making my landlord suffer and I feel horrible about it, but things have to be paid as well as rent. I don't know how or what to do. But it will all be paid - can't let the car or phone lapse though. dammit. While I smile and seem calm, this fear of the financial realm has me near catatonic. I hope things work out, and that the situation I would like does come up and work out for me!

Music is Magic

There are songs that make me feel/think magically, like if it were to move me into another world. Dream Weaver, Gary Wright Let My Love (Open The Door) Peter Townshed Almost anything by The Who, Cream, Led Zeppelin, - hrm.. I'm noting it's a lot of 70s, like The Beatles and a great many of the folk/hippy stuff, and the classic rock stuff. Albums that tell stories - there aren't many of them anymore. :( The Beatles, The Who, The Doors, Alan Parsons Project, Queensryche, Queen - what were they called, concept albums? they were magical. Even modern music has this ability - in a different way, on a different level, techno, synthpop, industrial and goth open doorways to other places for me.

on JWs and life

I find myself still bitter and resentful not only towards the JW organization but towards society itself for trying to railroad me into being a good little female. I'm not... I'm proud of being a whore and a bitch and a cunt, a scifi/fantasy reader and a geek and a nerd; a weirdo who dresses funny and wants to act and walk and talk and fight like a man, who worships a female entity on odd days and taoist on even days.. a crazy person who doesn't want to care what society says, but must conform a bit just to be able to get a job and a home and a family... Oh, and oddly enough, my friends all think I'm too happy-go-lucky and joyous to be real... I love being a contradiction. Why is it so strange, when we as humans are dichotomous by nature? Nature itself is sweet and cruel, harsh and easy, cold and hot, all at the same time! Why can't we be contradictions in our own flesh? Why the need to conform?

I really like being able to drive. I don't have to drive every day; that is very liberating. But I like having this independence, and freedom. Gypsy was right! Now, how to keep it? I may end up working my ass off September-December and learning how to severely save, to have my own car. I know generally what I want; a simple, efficient four door sedan. I'll settle for a 2 door if it has good gas mileage - after all, I suspect it will be, for a while, solely for me and my dog. I want to bring Teri here with Neno, but she's not free of her need to be in a relationship with Neno's father, and I don't want him around unless he can provide. Now, that's a catch-22 - 'cause if he can provide, then there's no need for my kid to come live with me. I want to care for this house so bad; fill it with simple furniture and comfortable things. I want to live in a place without fur in every corner and be warm. I may have to leave once Michelly passes away; this fills me with pain but where can I find a good, safe but cheap apartment that will allow my dog?

Home...

Back home from NYC. First time I felt a connection to the city in years. I admired the fashions, the shoes, the energy... I loved it. I still was anxious to return to Lancaster. With grandbaby. both, but at this time I content myself with the eldest. It was pleasant, being in NY this time around, even though I just wanted to go back home to Lanc. I could relax. And with next trip, I will, 'cause I'll stay with a friend as well as with Ebo. I love my life.

Personal, yet online...

I like that no one knows of this, truly. I can often spill (when I remember to spill) on this freely. I have my granddaughter for a whole month! I still have to work et al, but I get to spend time with her and talk to her and feel her grow a little. I was with her the first few months of her life; now I can reconnect. Soon, I'll find a way to help my youngest child and her son, and have them HOPEFULLY close enough to see my grandson and influence him more. I have to sacrifice my rather madcap life path, but... it may be worth it to salvage my grandkids...

We live, to die. I have this idea that we weren't originally meant to do so, but via mutation/interference we lost immortality. Then again, cancer is a sort of immortality (something about cells reproducing out of control, malignant and devouring, unable to maintain). What if cancer is our organism's way of trying to achieve/return to the state of immortality? I don't know if I want to live longer than I may be living. I'd love to see what happens, and while I'd never want to revisit my teens, it would be beneficial to be younger and more able to survive/withstand/prevail any future if I were at a peak physical age (personally, my peak was 30...) Out of money and time to make money. Feeling fearful for the next few months, as Ivy will be here and I have to pay phone, rent and car rental. But at least I have a car... as fearful as I am of it! Want to go to extravaganza this weekend; really wanted to camp out, but if with Ray, then I'll have to leave early enough. Not happy about it; but compromises have to be made. I feel bad for Ray as I get more used to driving about; he will wish for the days I didn't, as there are things I want to do that he doesn't share with me. I would have been content to do whatever he wants, but he would go on these rants about how I don't have this skill or that stability and now, well, he's gonna eat his words. off.

I feel so terribly comfortable walking at night. It's a little scary sometimes, that I feel safer outside than indoors. eh. love dancing. Gotta organize my room. It's like a bomb went off in here. I have yellow roses. Daydreaming. Good night.

I'd like to know why it's never been explored, that each of our bodies are uniquely individual. There truly is no size fits all; we all have different reactions to many different things. I can only dwell on myself. I can't eat bread; drink apple juice; eat pizza; drink regular milk; use certain makeups; take medication normally... etc etc etc. Am I overly sensitive, or just very very aware of my body's reaction to things? I often don't feel my possessions leaving my person, or being attached, but I do feel every fucking bite I take and how it is digested in my body. There was a time I thought eating was a punishment; I was always in pain and always uncomfortable eating. A random article, well into my 40s, about a person with the inability to gain weight - no matter what, but instead had abnormal reactions to what other people ate to gain weight started me on the search for what the hell was wrong with my body. It seems I may have IBS - however, I'm not so sure it's a bad thing. It's helped me avoid the pitfalls of beer belly and middle age/secretary's spread. It certainly has saved me the discomfort I grew up with in my belly!!! Then there's the possible schizophrenia/ADHD... now I'm not sure if it wasn't just a physiological reaction to what my body was undergoing fighting with the foodstuffs and drugs given to make me better. I hallucinate, I hear voices, I feel things, I believe some wildly unbelieavable things... but now, without meds, without certain foods, with narrowing my intake of things and watching/monitoring what I use and eat, I've lost all that (well, except for being hyperactive) and again.. I've always been thin, but now I don't feel like my middle is weighed with iron or stone. My head feels clearer, I am less inclined to fly off the handle, and less indulgent with the 'bad days'. Then I read about how many of the things I felt weren't really a mental illness, just things the brain can do to itself. And I wonder... was it due, again to reactions of my body to things? Or was I in fact mentally ill (am I? not sure still). Nothing is strange when it comes to how your brain, your body, your emotions, your digestive system, your bones, etc, will react to things that are either uniquely beneficial to you, or uniquely malicious to you. You have to listen to your body to find out. That's my theory.

I went through all the old pictures I had hidden in the basement. Humidity made some of them tacky. I did the rest...

Anyway, something my best friend gypsy told me in passing kept coming back to me: "you've been skinny all your life..." I'm looking at the pictures from when I was a wee lass, all through school, pregnancies (I burned all those), kids, the various bfs, etc etc etc, and while I am not very pretty in a handful of them, indeed, I have ALWAYS been thin. Where the hell did I get the thought that my stomach protruded, or that I was chunky in the thigh area? Not even the pictures that were at my worse (and boy, do I think I look ugly in those) do I look anything but slim...

and I was/am pretty. I never thought I was pretty. As a young girl, I had a fragile sort of look, all big eyes and lips and fine face. As a mom, depending on the situation, I looked well or very sickly. Yet you can see fine features in all of them, even the goofy ones. Perhaps its age; they say when you look back at 40, you realize you were prettier than you thought you were.

I'm gonna be 50; gone are the full lips and the tight skin on the face, yet I have fine features, strong and well delineated. I am still slim and not saggy at all. Even my skin, showing it's age, still looks like it glows. Dare I enjoy this? I don't know. I just wish I hadn't taken all this time to see the pretty girl I was/am/will be.

My son living with me for the nonce; wondering how my baby daughter is doing. She got a job at a restaurant. I hope she can learn how not to use people.

I feel horrible! My daughter was sending my granddaughter to me, and we weren't aware 11 was too young to travel on train alone. So I don't have my granddaughter. The sorrow and dissapointment she must be feeling is killing me; I love that child so much!!! I want her to myself for ever so long, just to have my baby with me, my first grandchild, this amazing wonderful delightful smart and precocious child.

I wish I could take my heart out, it hurts so bad.

I resented him, sometimes. I knew he was needy for a reason - brain tumors, increasing pain from a back injury from a job, coupled with the desire not to be dependent on anyone and to be alone - I understood this. Sometimes my life doesn't allow me to be where I am needed by people, and I do resent that.

He committed suicide. He called me to be there. And now, I am haunted that I could not be more for him. He was just a friend, a guy who was bitter at how life had treated him, what it had handed to him, how it had left him. I see him everywhere now (which can be just the drawbacks of a small town). I see him at the Weis, at the restaurant I work, walking up the block painfully, or at the top of the stairs, asking for some assistance. He was lonely, and sometimes I feel I let him down.

I was there for him when it was worth it, though. I cared for him through his attempt at suicide, and then his body just gave out, and I found him there, cold, stiff, lavender skinned. I helped dispose of his effects.

In a sense, I'm glad I am haunted by him. I am glad I knew him. I am glad I found out about him. I am sorry his life became what it was these last few years. He is at peace now.

Dream: Horror/haunted house thing. Rooms, kitchen, darkness, storm, fear, love, loss multi-dimensional?

room to room was different places. Love was older Al Pacino look alike, felt like Oddity. Abrasive, self-involved and negative. lost him in one of the rooms - death. Thing came to explain. I left the house/building. Had to take a bus back. Bus route was strange, lead through desolated areas. returned to house to get lover. Thing had return, we encountered rest of us. I sat on lover's lap, he was irritated, upset, angry. Thing explained, and outburst from lover: I've wasted so much time instead of loving you, appreciating what I had! I turned and kissed him, crying, holding him, telling him I loved him and woudl always love him. he held me; that was the last time I saw him. Could not find the house anymore and the bus route changed. dream ended with me and my dog continuing to search for the building, to see him once more.

I love my kids. They are all adults, and I miss them terribly. They all have their own lives, and the trajectories diverge greatly from each other. I wish my son were near me, and/or my youngest and her husband and son. Perhaps one or both might visit.... My eldest is quite settled at the moment with a good job and her daughter. I do wish she lived near me; I would like to influence my granddaughter more. Added advantage of them being near me is far from the influence of the religion my parents raised me in...

I'm so very tired. I've been burning the candle at both ends for a bit and now am feeling it; plus I really truly hate the cold. To escape the cold, however, would be to leave the few connections I have here, the friends I've made. Yet, I yearn for a day where I'd be accountable to no one, where I could just do whatever I wanted, go wherever I wish, without ever having to refer to anyone else. Most people would call that loneliness (and with good reason); for me, it would almost be heaven (oh, all the books I'd read and wings I'd eat!)

I'll have to make it a point to walk the dog despite the cold. I wear about a pound of clothing just to go out in weather under 50 degrees; and I'm not truly comfortable until the weather's about 80. oh well.

need to write more. perhaps, now is the time. That is, now that the cold has me trapped!

So, last night something happened that hasn't really happened to me since I was a teen at home. The bed moved/swayed/rocked. Physically moved. I thought perhaps a cat or my dog had come into the room, but the door was closed and there were no animals in the room. Ok.. then perhaps wind? No.. the plastic on my windows have been still. Hrm.. could it be a mild earth tremor? Nothing in the news today. I turned off the lights and it happened again. So I slept with my light on, wondering why it was happening.

This used to scare me alot as a kid 'cause I was brought up in a religion that strongly believed in physical demonic manifestations. I do not believe in that today, and often have to talk my brain and reactions down from the superstitious bullshit I was brought up with. Not to mention the extremely fertile imagination I was blessed/cursed with. Especially since I'm reading Cthluthlu mythos literature now...

I am going to believe that something done in the other house (the same kind of room shares my wall in my room in the attic) may have caused the mild rocking/swaying motion in my bed. There were other small noises, that seemed to be attributable to settling house syndrome, that lead me to believe that may have been the case. But damned if I really hate not knowing WHY my bed moved. And it moved; it swayed. Grrr.
Oh, and I sleep alone.