gypsy's Journal [entries|friends|calendar] gypsy Dancing with Dragonflies Chasing the dragonfly, dancing with light, my eyes fixed on shimmering wings, my heart in flight. On the edge of a lily pad lands the dragonfly, tail like a blue thread loosened from the sky. And what is a butterfly, you ask? At best, he is but a caterpillar, finely dressed. A dragonfly captures the soul and mind, all this in only a moment of time. [ userinfo | scribbld userinfo ] [ calendar | scribbld calendar ]

this is not my beautiful house... this is not my beautiful wife [Wednesday, August 25th 2004] Uck. Did I mention I am having a crappy week??? There was an issue with our apartment managers, which I wrote about previously. After speaking with them yesterday, we were pretty much promised a written apology from the offending party. Our friends were also considering moving in to our complex, and after hearing of this incident, decided to wait and see the outcome before signing anything. My friend also called and voiced her concerns with the manager here. Even though we were assured that everything would be 'taken care of', my friend was given a conflicting story. Apparently now, not only do they not feel that they owe us an apology, they actually feel like we owe THEM one! I love that. I've got an apology for them ... "I'm sorry that you are all fucking imbeciles and don't know how to do your jobs. I'm sorry that you feel your pride is worth more than having residents feel happy and safe. I'm sorry I wasted my time even moving in here, and I am ESPECIALLY sorry that I will now be charged move-out fees to break our lease." I guess by 'taken care of' they meant that we'd just forget about it. You say tomato... So, I am online looking at possible new apartments. My parents are building us a house on their property, but it won't be done until next summer, which made signing a year lease here in July just perfect. I like it here, it's (usually) quiet, it's off the road, spacious and I LOVE the way we decorated it ... but I hate the thought of having to deal with these fuckers up our ass all through the winter and next spring. I had some other stuff to post about, but I am still unsure how to say it all and now I am busy doing this, so... here's to a post soon that has less bitching and more happy news.

grumpies, grouchies & boyfriend ouchies [Monday, August 23rd 2004] Fair warning: this entry is going to suck. I'm tired, grouchy, and it's too much to type the reason why, so I will just do a generic update of the day. Took Andy to work, came back home, showered, talked to friends online and then left around noon to go pay a traffic ticket, (I know, yay!, huh?) Then, went to my friend Jake's and had a blast doing a 'photo shoot'. He asked me to come over and take some pictures of him with my digital camera. We took some great pictures and some stupid, goofy ones, and we laughed so hard that tears were streaming down both of our faces. Then, I was late picking Andy up at work because of traffic, (more yay!) and then when I get there I find out that he'd been taken in to the emergency room earlier in the day. He cut his finger bad enough to need stitches and couldn't reach me because he couldn't remember my new phone number. He also had to get a tetnus shot. So, I brought home a tired, hurt, groggy boyfriend. No sex for me =( Then, as a special topper to the night, there was a bunch of people (loud people!) outside our bedroom window. The management wouldn't do anything, and so we ended up fighting with them over the phone and now I just want to move. Yes, I am overreacting. Yes, I am pissed off. Yes, I am tired, grouchy, and irritable, and probably would have handled the last part of the day better had I not been tired and had a splitting headache, and possibly some food in my tummy, (no, I didn't eat anything today). Now, I really want to go out because I sure as hell won't be able to sleep, but Andy is hurt and on pain meds and I need to be here for him. *Grrr* It could be worse. It could always be worse. I am just whiny and bitchy and tomorrow I'm sure I will be just fine, so I guess I'll sleep then.

crowning a drama queen [Friday, August 20th 2004] The question of the day is this ... at what point do we handle our relationships, (and the end of said relationships,) in a mature, adult manner? Wouldn't you think that by the time you reach thirty you'd be able to at least bow out gracefully when one or more people tell you to get lost? Yeah, I thought so, too, but we would both have been wrong, at least in this case. A close friend of mine and I share a mutual acquaintance. She's overbearing, manipulative and has the disposition of a spoiled five year old, (so bad, in fact, that the comparison might be an insult to the spoiled five year old). I've only known this person a few months, and luckily I've always been uneasy around her, so I never let her get too close. My other friend's known her for years, and unfortunately, was more hurt than I by this person's utter lack of concern and respect for anyone else's feelings. Once we voiced our concerns to the offending party, we were basically told to go fuck ourselves quietly up the ass in a corner. You might guess, either from knowing me personally, or from reading this journal, that I did not take this well. In no uncertain terms, I was royally fucking pissed off. The kicker is, this person actually told me that three of her 'other friends' don't think there's anything wrong, therefore my opinion means jack shit. Wow, why didn't I think of that? Asking other people how I should feel? Correct me if I'm wrong here, but isn't the way I feel about something one of the few things I actually DO get to decide in life? To make a long story short, once the shit hit the fan, it came at me from all directions, (as one would imagine shit would do once it hit a moving object). I got emails, nasty journal comments, phone calls, txt msgs and the like. I actually had to change my phone number, move my other journal, and change all my emails addresses, as well as shutting down the 'comments' portion of my websites. All this because I didn't want to be friends with a 30 YEAR OLD WOMAN! She claims it 'wasn't her' ... hmm, awfully strange coincidence then, isn't it? I believe the words my friend used to describe the situation were that we weren't going to just roll over and take it up the ass from her anymore. The way I see it, the only way I ever want my ass and this person in the same sentence is if they're kissing it. And that's what I have to say about that.

dramatized day [Thursday, August 19th 2004] Wow... the idiots were out in full force today. I got emails, phone calls, nasty messages online. I'm not going to get into it too deeply, but I will say this ... if I had control over situations like people seem to think I do, the world would be a very different place. I did take care of the things I do have control over, and, well, if they want to harass me now, they'll have to be pretty crafty bastards. Let's see, what else have I been up to lately? Andy bought a new iBook. I got a new cd, Bruce Hornsby ~ Halcyon Days, (which I promptly burned copies of for all of my friends!) *lol* We rearranged the house so that the living room is now the bedroom and the big bedroom is now the living/music room, (which actually looks way cool,) met Andy for lunch and I ran around for this and that, like I always do. Oh, and I heard that the new rage downtown is girls wearing their bras over their shirts?!? Hmm... Ok, now that my headache is subsiding, I am going to go play with Andy.

rainfall [Wednesday, August 18th 2004] She's going to think I used her, but now that I think about it, maybe she used me. Seeing my situation as an opportunity to exact revenge against someone for her own benefit. Yeah, that sounds like her. Not for me, never for me, not to keep me safe, but to keep her upper hand in the game. I was temporarily fooled into thinking that she might do something for someone other than herself. I suppose it's better to be a fool and have your heart broken than to have no heart at all. But that really isn't about her. I never gave her my heart, though there are others who still have pieces wedged in between their teeth. Speaking of others, I never thought I'd be one to give my choices away. Handing over my option to forgive and forget. Who am I kidding? When do I ever forget? In any case, it's somewhat disturbing not to be able to change one's mind. But, back to being used .. I have a lover, a boyfriend, a soulmate, a partner. She would have used me for other things had I let her. I have to wonder... would she have listened to me if I'd have fucked her? Then I would have been important. Then I would have mattered. It would have been worth it to listen to me whine as long as I did so between her thighs. Funny how someone can claim to be so progressive and be so close-minded at the same time.

weeding them out.. [Tuesday, August 17th 2004] Recently, I had a vine growing wild in my garden. I didn't plant it, but somehow it was there. It would reach out and choke the other flowers, smothering them, trying to pull them in a different direction than they wanted to grow. Although it was a pretty vine, it was causing chaos all throughout the garden. I thought perhaps I could train it to grow in such a way that it would still have adequate space without squashing all my other beautiful flowers, but try as I might, it was stubborn and demanded control of the garden. It seems I had to chop the vine. Let's just say that it, uh... required too much fertilizer to maintain.

flash [Tuesday, August 17th 2004] I see my ceiling. I see my window. I see my dresser. I see him. I see my ceiling, I see my ceiling, I see my ceiling ... I feel a hand on my shoulder and I jump, shriek, pull away. Don't touch me, never touch me. But it's a familiar hand, a kind hand. A hand to help, not to hurt. My mind plays tricks on me and I forget where I am. I see my ceiling, I see my ceiling, I see my ceiling .. My bed. My room. My life. MY CHOICE. We stopped when I said stop, not like before, not like you. You didn't stop. Sometimes I wonder if you'll ever stop. I can see here, but my mind is not here. My mind is back there. I lie here, naked, shaking. Can't stop shaking, and he asks if I would like a blanket, but I am not cold. Talk softly to me. Don't hold me too tight, it will frighten me, but don't push me away. I don't want to be alone. Don't sneak up behind me. "It's me," he says. "It's Andy, it's me, you're here, with me, just me. I love you and everything is ok. Everything is ok. Everything is ok." I sit in the bath and I wash, and wash and wash. My lips are glued together and I can't speak but it's ok, he says. He knows, and it's ok. Everything is ok. I feel disconnected and lost. I remember why I started running. To get away from you. Your life is no different. What was a few moments to you is a lifetime for me. I know you are hiding behind the corners in my mind and I know you will never completely leave. Sometimes I go months without seeing you, and then you sneak up on me wearing his face. How dare you. You are not him, you are not here, you are not here. You force your way out of that little box I put you in and for a moment I see you, but then I see my window. I see my bed. I see my choices. I see my life. I see his eyes. I see my ceiling. I see my ceiling. I see my ceiling.

the high cost of humiliation [Sunday, August 15th 2004] Today was the final day for the crazy one to appeal the judge's decision on my restraining order. As you can imagine, I don't believe she really understood what she was faced with when she said she wanted to appeal. She must have realized it because no appeal was filed. First of all, the cost is $300, and that's just to file the paperwork saying you want to appeal. After that, there's a barrage of attorney fees and paperwork and briefs that have to be filed. Then, my attorney and I would respond with our own paperwork and briefs, and then, when it's all submitted, it gets put aside in the courts for probably about a year, and then it's picked back up and reviewed by an appeals committee. During all this time, the order remains in effect as signed. So, besides the money spent, (and it would end up being quite a bit on her part,) the time spent is another issue altogether. Andy brought up another issue that I hadn't even thought of. The humiliation factor. She was terribly humiliated at the hearing when she contested it. She was unprepared and did not take any of it seriously, and it showed. Not only was she humiliated in front of me, (her apparent mortal enemy,) but also all of her former ex's and friends. She left the courtroom crying. I left smiling, thinking it would finally be over, and then she went on to say she would appeal. I thought she was just blowing smoke up my ass, and sure enough, she was. In any case, I am still relieved that I don't have to see her or deal with her, or even think about her, for at least another year, when I will again file to continue my order. I guess, when it all comes down to it, the cost of further humiliation was just too high.

closing my eyes [Thursday, August 12th 2004] This is too hard for me. I was going to stop reading after tomorrow, the end of the 30 days. I was going to be happy for you and wave goodbye in my mind, knowing you were ok. Then, things started to fall apart for you. A few days later and, I never would have known. I can't be here for you anymore. I can't be the one you fall back on. I can't stand behind you anymore in case you fall. I can't be the one to catch you. I can't worry about you anymore. I can't write you messages here. I can't wonder if you're ok, if you're happy, if you need me. I can't stop sobbing. I can't breathe. I can't, I can't, I can't. I thought you hated me. I thought you'd never want to speak to me again. I thought the last thing you'd ever want was to hear my voice. I thought I couldn't feel anything anymore. I guess I was wrong. I don't know that you've ever seen me cry. I've seen you cry and it always broke my heart. I know you don't need anyone telling you the mistakes you've made. I always feel guilty if I'm happy and you're sad. I'm always afraid to act on that and later be told it wasn't appreciated or worse, it was a joke. I don't like to be laughed at. I don't like to be told I am stupid for caring. I don't like to be vulnerable. I don't like to see other people hurt. I don't like to hurt. Yesterday all I could think was "what if she has no one? what if she ends up homeless? what if she needs me?" Maybe that's my ego talking, but it speaks out of concern. I can't think like that anymore. You're going to be ok. You don't need me. You don't have to justify yourself to me, or worry about how I feel. You don't need to hear me say that I care about you because you know that I do. I don't need to be here for you to know that. As much as I care, I will judge you for a past you can't change and for the lessons you haven't learned yet, and you will grow angry with me for my discontentment, just as it's always been. I'm closing my eyes now. I'm sure I'm not finished crying, but for now, at least, I am done. I've always kind of had this fantasy about us. Not the typical kind, where someone gets swept off their feet, but the kind you would have about a ghost. I imagine we're driving, we've been driving, for over a year. Sometimes you drive while I sleep. There's no map and no known destination, but we keep ahead nonetheless. After what feels like a million miles, we come upon this little town. I run into the general store for a minute while you're using the bathroom at the local saloon. I know in my belly, not in my mind, that there is little time left for us. I make my purchases ... some ginger for my growing upset stomach, a magazine, a diet coke and a butterfly for you, on fishing line made out of red clay. You come walking out of the swinging wooden doors as I make my way to meet you, smiling and shaking your head. I ask you what's the matter, though you don't look upset, and I know what's coming. You tell me that the bartender really needs another cocktail waitress, and there's a room for rent upstairs above the bar. I know you don't mean for the both of us, and you know I can't stay. I've never been back to that little town. Tried a few times, but I never could find it. I don't have to, though. I know you're working in that bar, telling stories of your old life on the busy nights as you refill glasses, and singing about your dreams on the slow nights. I know that butterfly is hanging in the window above the bar, and I remember that smile, as I drove away. No waving, no sad goodbyes, just the light on your face, the dust from the road, and that genuine smile making it possible for me to go, and I can still see it, many miles down the road. A part of you will always be riding with me, and a part of me will be there at your side, maybe playing the piano while you sing. Sometimes I think I see you, a flash of red hair, a laugh that sounds like windchimes dancing in the breeze, and sometimes you turn around to hear a familiar melody, a few notes over the crowd of voices, but it turns out to be something different altogether. For a moment, though, my mind travels back to that dusty little town, and I remember every mile, every stoplight, every gas station, every song on the radio. I'll remember you, and I'll smile.

cramped [Wednesday, August 11th 2004] Fuuuuuccccckkkkkkkkk. I woke up with my belly on fire this morning. Everything below my belly button is enveloped in white hot pain. I thought the surgery would rid me of this. It rid me of something, alright, but not what it was supposed to. What a stupid, naive girl I was, making a decision that would affect so much, yet so little at the same time. It's funny how, once a person learns to deal with pain, physical or mental, they go right back into their routine once the pain returns. My breathing changes. My state of mind alters into this sort of meditation state, where I try to push it away with my mind. I used to do it all the time, all day long, and I find I can slip it back on like an old sweater when necessary. Well, then... time to pop some pills and start my day.

sad bitch [Tuesday, August 10th 2004] Friends have lovingly dubbed this my 'bitchy journal', since this is where most of my vengeful, spiteful, not-as-socially-acceptable thoughts are stored. Everybody has them, and mine go here. This journal, rather than just my angry rants, is also a place to write freely. I lay it all down here, and I disregard the reality that it might offend others, or shed an unflattering light upon me. This is one such entry that may cast me in such a light, but I write it because, it's me, I'm not always a delicate flower, and you have to take the whole fucking garden, weeds and all. That said, I feel bad for someone who is getting exactly what they deserve, less in fact. She's being evicted, after over a year of not paying rent. If the house was not owned by family, she'd have been thrown out months ago. This is someone who works the system, someone who screwed me over, up, down, and sideways. This is someone who never had to answer for any of her mistakes, someone who disregarded all possible consequences and still managed to keep afloat, until now. I often wondered when the myriad of bad decisions she's made in her life would catch up with her, and secretly hoped, for her sake, that it would not be all at once. She's walking a thin tightrope, both with her life and her own sanity, and no matter how much I want to, I can't be happy to see her fall. She's crying today, packing up boxes, throwing away memories, crying in an empty house alone. Part of me wants to run to her and tell her everything will be ok, but that is a lie that I wouldn't tell and she wouldn't believe. I guess, once you love someone, you always kind of love them, in some way or another. I want to be hard, uncaring, watching her pain, unblinking and attentive, savoring the moment when she loses one of the rare things in this life she actually cared about, other than herself. I want to be this person, and I am not. My pity should be reserved for those who are beaten down, who've tried to pick themselves up, who've worked entire lifetimes to get nowhere, for those who do not solicit it. I pity this vile creature, this monster of a girl, wet cheeks atop a mound of trash that once was a life with some promise. I pity this thing, because I know there is a sliver of light in the darkness, a small speck of good that the evil hasn't tarnished. It is this part that cries, it is this part I loved, it is this part I am sad for. This small part, that seems to get smaller every day. One day, like everything else, it may be gone forever.

online journals - the communication device of choice for the passive-aggressive [Friday, August 6th 2004] I love online journals, and I hate them at the same time. It was mentioned to me recently that it's sad when you have to catch up on your friend's lives via reading their 'blogs' instead of just picking up the phone and talking to them. Obviously, in life, time is an ever watchful eye and we are not always able to telephone each and every friend and explain the events of the day, and our friends don't always have the time to hear our daily woes. Sometimes it's nice to just put it out there, like the daily news, and when they have time, there it is. This can be taken too far, however, when people use them as a springboard with which to launch an attack on their readers. I can think of a few people right off the top of my head that do this, and it makes me just livid. If you need to vent or scream about an issue, or a person who's left your life, so be it, but when they're still IN your life, wouldn't it be best to talk it out with them instead? These blogs seem to be the perfect tool for the passive-aggressive to lash out without the discomfort of direct confrontation. I myself enjoy confrontation, even welcome it at times, because I was raised a fighter, with a tomahawk instead of a rattle. I don't know the meaning of the expression 'fight or flight'. It's fight to me, always, always fight. I was brought up to believe that flight equaled weakness, so if I use my wings, it's just to fly up high enough to kick you right between the eyes. So, this is the jist of what I am saying here... DON'T BE A WHINY, PUSSY, TITTY-BABY. If you're old enough to write it, you're old enough to say it outright.

and just when things were going along swimmingly... a shark [Tuesday, August 3rd 2004] Made a very optimistic and happy post in my other journal yesterday. I should've known better. You know the gods don't like you flaunting your luck, so they have to smack you down a notch when your cheeks curl into a grin. That's a sufficient intro, then, isn't it? Last week someone at the boyfriend's work injured himself very badly. An ambulance ride, surgery, and a year of prescribed physical therapy later, he was drug tested and didn't pass. If you've been through the workmen's comp circus before, you'll know this is standard procedure. Well, guess what else they decided to do? Yup. Now EVERYONE is getting tested, starting today with Andy. He stalled enough that I had time to bring him a royal flush and he downed it, along with half a huge bottle of water. It didn't make him feel very well and the thought of losing his job scared the shit out of him, but I think (hope) everything will be ok. They said the sample was a bit diluted, so he may have to do it again. We bought another bottle just in case. Now, his mom, (who also smokes,) is bugging him for a bag. Nice. Thanks, mom. Trying to keep his mind OFF of it, but you don't care, do you, you selfish, worthless bitch? Jesus. What a strange and awkward day.

blissful rotation [Monday, August 2nd 2004] As I was sitting in traffic today, I got to thinking about my current and past relationships, the relationships of friends, and the state of mind as we weave in and out of these relationships. How is it that we can feel so defeated, so beaten down by them, and yet, months down the road, have moved on to another and be happy again? Long before I divorced my husband, I knew things were over. We were fighting it, but it was a losing battle. Even so, my heart was broken, and I felt that it would never heal. I knew I didn't want to be with him anymore, but I couldn't imagine falling in love again, trusting someone again, moving forward and making a happier life for myself. I had also lost faith in love, because the one I'd chosen to spend my life with, the one I was so sure was the right person for me, just ... wasn't. I kept thinking I could no longer trust my gut or my heart, and I wondered how I would survive without those two organs. Now, that unhappiness and insecurity feels worlds away. In fact, that whole life feels worlds away to me. I realize that, rather than regret the 4 years of wasted time, I should instead be thankful for the learning experience. As cliche' as that sounds, it's true. I've learned, not only from my marriage, but also from other relationships that red flags are red for a reason.... TO GET YOUR ATTENTION. Ignoring them only prolongs, (and sometimes intensifies,) your misery. I learned that being hopeful and being stupid are not the same things, though they can produce similar results. I have made peace with my past and my present and my world feels like it's rotating properly, instead of spinning out of control, or just stopped in it's tracks. I wish that everyone could feel this, as I know there are people close to me now that don't, but I hope my well wishes reach them, and give them a light in the dark tunnel. On a lighter note, when we came home today from the store, our neighbor upstairs had something for us. She's a much older woman, but not the crotchety type, and she's lived here for ten years! She came up to us as we were unloading the jeep and gave us some cookies she'd baked for us! Wow, talk about good vibes! Then, my ex husband's first wife sent me a card from her and my stepdaughter, thanking me for the birthday present I'd sent. Aww... what a good day.

incensed [Saturday, July 31st 2004] ACHTUNG! If you've come looking for amusing anecdotes and daily play-by-plays of my life, it's best you look at my other journal. This one is for my raw, uncensored, unadulterated truths. My life isn't anything of breaking news. It stays, for the most part, within the comfy confines of society. My mind, however, wanders frequently outside those boundaries, set for me by those with fences around their thoughts. If you're religious, prejudiced, republican, prude, or otherwise easily-offended, I suggest you move on to tamer pastures. Now, we can continue. Today I am fed-up, fuming, vexed, annoyed, outraged, indignant, incensed, affronted, and pissed-off. Why, you ask? I'd say my telephone, or Andy's, but I can hardly be angry with a device which is functioning properly. No, it's the voices on the other end, beckoning me away from the things I need to accomplish, knowing full well it cannot be put off for another day. It's been a week since I've been able to have a nice evening with my boyfriend, a week since my hands have not been elbow-deep in cleaner, newspapers, or boxes, a week since I have been able to concentrate on anything but the task at hand. Now, on the very last day, we get a hundred calls, and suddenly my usually sparsely populated social calendar is full of invitations to which I cannot attend. Why is it that no one can comprehend that we are trying to get something done here? It's also the ever-popular notion that, since I am currently unemployed, I should be at everyone's beck and call, since I have no job with which to occupy my time. Well, I have news for those who think I just sit around here with my thumb up my arse ... you know those things you of the employed masses have to ask for time off to do? I do those things. Things like doctor appointments, vehicle registration and inspection, job interviews, preparing for court dates, personal commitments, moving, etc ... I also look for work, which is a full-time job in itself. Just because I don't have a job that doesn't mean I don't work. I have one final thing to say about the issue, and that is, so what? So what if I do want to lay around all day on a Wednesday in my pajamas, watch the home & garden channel, and eat ice cream for breakfast? Am I not entitled to this because I got fired? I don't think so. I am just as deserving of 'me' time as anyone else is, and since it's 'me' time, I'll take it when I damn well please. Don't take it personally, it has nothing to do with you, it has to do with me, hence the name. I don't need a charity position. Just because I am looking for work doesn't mean I am desperate. In the event that I become desperate and minimum wage is actually starting to look good, I'll fill out that application for sweater folder at the GAP. I don't need to be reminded of the precarious position my lack of current employment has put me in. I don't need to be looked after or pitied. I don't need to be emailed every job offer in the paper, or for every now hiring sign at the fast food place you go to for lunch. I don't need someone to hold my hand or read me the want-ads at bedtime. I am well aware of what's out there, and if it fit my skill level, I've probably already applied for it. If I haven't, I have my own reasons. I won't discuss my salary requirements, my rent payment, or anything of a personal nature with you unless you are hiring me or leasing me an apartment. Don't ask, and you won't have to be offended when I refuse to answer. That said, this bitch is off to bed.

madness [Thursday, July 29th 2004] You know how, sometimes when the phone rings, you just know you shouldn't answer, because at the other end of the line is something you thought you'd left behind coming back to haunt you? It seems no part of my past is content to stay put. He called me to say he's left her. 'Are you ok?' I asked. What was he really expecting me to say? 'Come jump back into my bed, I've kept your spot warm all this time'. I adore him, but I'm not in love anymore. I was. He wasn't. I guess now he is. He inquired if my current relationship had 'run it's course' yet. I laughed, but didn't mean it. When I asked if he was okay, he said 'of course. Are you?' That's Jake. It's all about him, but he'd never come right out and say so. Even though I don't love him anymore, I remember why I did. Between my future and my past, it's become difficult to stay in the present. My mind is occupied by someone I won't see again for probably another year. I could call him, but a phone isn't a plane and words can't convey thoughts that won't take shape. What would I say? He's only in another state but he might as well be a thousand miles away for me right now. Still, I am left wondering if it would be worth the drive. Here I sit in a brand new place, with a familiar face, someone I don't want to hurt, someone I love, someone I can see as an old man, remembering through the wrinkles on his face what he used to dream. I wonder how many will come true? I wonder, will I come true? Will I come through for him, or become a fractured memory. Human beings are funny things ... we recall things the same when we are together, but after we part, everything breaks. There's always more questions than answers, for people like me. The minute I get something great, I'm trying to top it. It seems like the best possible thing for me is just short of heaven. I'm sitting in the clouds, but am I so high that I've actually turned upside down? I always want most the things that are just out of my reach. Sticking around to watch things go from good to bad has never been for me. I'm tired of losing pieces of me when it all falls apart. I'm tired of giving myself away to people who only forget where they've put me. And in six months, would I just be back in the jeep, the wind washing him out of my hair, too, like so many others in my rearview mirror?

how can you not laugh? [Wednesday, July 28th 2004] I've been keeping tabs on the storyteller, until I am satisfied that the whole ordeal really is over. Her journal today is funny as hell. I know no one really needs to see her bad grammar and spelling errors, but I had to post part of her recent entry, because it is such obvious plagiarism that it's hilarious. Does she really think we believe she comes up with this stuff?? Anyway, for your viewing pleasure.... 'My first impression of Keebler elves many years ago was that they were scary little men that baked my cookies in some tree deep in the woods. For years I searched for that tree. On camping trips, outings to the beach, or just picnics in the park. I thought somewhere those elves would pop out with their fresh baked cookies and make my day. It's been 24 years and not once have I been able to enjoy a nice warm cookie in the park. I believe it was a young Stephen Hawking who said, "if cookies were ho's then elves be they pimp." I might be paraphrasing a bit, it was either that or some crap about the universe. The point is, those elves make some pretty kick ass cookies. Those Keebler's prefer to do their baking in large hallow trees, despite the enormous fire hazard. Each year hundreds of elves and woodland creatures die in baking related forest fires, but those Fudge Grahams and Grasshoppers taste awesome so what the hell. Keep it up guys!' Anyone else remember seeing this on HBO comedy? I do, I do!! The other entry was something about words of the day and the term 'gandersnatch', which isn't even a word. A similar term, 'Bandersnatch' was invented by Lewis Carroll in the poem 'Jabberwocky' from his Alice in Wonderland and Alice through the Looking Glass books. Some people are so ill-informed. Anyway, I thought everyone needed a laugh for today, so there you are. *lol* I am so tired of packing boxes, carrying boxes, and unpacking boxes only to pack them once again with different stuff. Arrggghh! {she screams} 'When will the madness end?!?' We are almost fully moved, got a lot done lastnight but still have a few cupboards to empty and then we need to clean, all before Saturday. Yippeee! {not} The biggest bummer is that lastnight I got invited to a BBQ and swimming in the river with friends, and I couldn't go because of all these damned cupboards & boxes! Soon, it will be over and then we can party! =)

protect me, Space Dog [Thursday, July 22nd 2004] Lastnight I had a dream that the person I have the restraining order against broke into my home with a gun and tried to kill me. Me and Andy were sleeping, I could hear someone outside the door, realized it was her, got on the phone to the police, then she breaks down the door and points a gun in my face, screaming at me about how I 'ruined her life' by getting the restraining order against her. I was scared shitless in the dream, but still couldn't help but think 'oh, and there was no reason for the restraining order, right, because you're totally stable'... anyway, it was a fucked up dream. I wonder when I am going to stop feeling like this? I guess when she stops trying to pull me back in. I think I might be suffering from post traumatic stress disorder in some small way. After three months of looking over my shoulder and waking up in a panic, even now that it's over, I still feel like I am waiting for something else bad to happen. Everything is going really great, and I am trying to settle in to that, but after three months of drama and bullshit, it's hard to believe it when it's over. Taking my morning walk now, and then I am on the hunt for boxes ... got any I could use?

lightbulb [Wednesday, July 21st 2004] Something just occurred to me as I was sitting here talking with Andy... he thinks she who shall not be named is making up this story about her guestbook and these 'anonymous entries'. He thinks she is just saying that to get under my skin. Guess it worked, because for a moment I was ticked off. Either that, or she's trying to get me mad at my friends or something. Won't work. Like I would believe her over them. Just further proof that she can't let go of me. Anyway, it's probably more of her petty games, which is why I ended the relationship in the first place. There's probably never been any entries, other than the few in Jenni's journal that Chris wrote. She thinks I am behind all that, too, which is even funnier still. I mean, I guess she must've forgotten that she hit Chris in the face with a door when he was just trying to come in and get his things, then had him arrested, humiliated him and perjured herself on national television, and then refused to give him his things when she was ordered to by the judge. If Chris is mad at her, it certainly isn't because of me. In any case, moving on ... I hung out with Chris's new girlfriend today. She is the coolest! We had some of the same pictures hanging up, the same turtle that lights up, and the same dragonfly keychain. It was unbelievable! We get along really, really well and they are so happy. I'm glad to see my friend has found someone so perfect for him. As for Andy and I, we are busy packing and getting ready to move, and I am looking for a job. Since I know Ralph Lauren needs a new manager, I went there today and applied. The woman said she would be looking over the applications and would get back to me within a week. Cool... I also applied at Addidas, Pac Sun, and Puma. I'm excited... something's got to come from one of them. I need a job, like, yesterday. My head is pounding, so I am going to eat some pizza and watch a movie with my honey. I should probably be packing but, eh... it was a busy day.

PLEASE STOP [Wednesday, July 21st 2004]  {public message} Okay, this message is here because I really don't know who to address it to. Something is going on and it needs to stop. Someone is leaving anonymous messages in the guestbook of someone I used to know. I've asked my immediate group of friends, and they all say they haven't left any, so I am not sure what's going on, however, if this is someone doing this to try to stick up for me in some twisted way, or because they think it's funny, PLEASE STOP. It isn't funny, it's stupid. This is over now and everyone just needs to move forward. She has her right to her opinions just like everyone else and this is petty, childish nonsense, so let's all be grown ups and just move on. Thanks.

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