Dusty Newspaper Clippings and other mental disorder: June 2005

Thursday, June 30, 2005

Well, after class today I went to have a word with English teacher. We talked about books and stuff (of course). As I turned to go she mentioned that I should stay in touch, at which time I said, "I've been meaning to ask if you'd like to get together over coffee or tea sometime," and she said sure, after the grades are in and she's not my teacher anymore. So, wow. I can't believe I did that.

I love my dawgs and miss them so much. My cats, though, are the closest things to children I'm likely to have; I mean, I did raise them from when they were three weeks old. They're my babies.

Up at four this morning. I went to bed at nine last night and I got up since I had to take my asthma meds. I need to do some work anyway, as I didn't yesterday. Drinking iced tea because it's too early to run the blender for a frap.

Damn, last day of the month? You mean, I went through June without A/C? Goes to show my level of insanity. Getting it fixed next week, probably. No, not probably. Absolutely. I'll be out of town over the weekend of the 9th and A/C is essential for the cats. And for me, hell. I'll be home all week; my final for English is this Friday.

I dropped the watercolor class for the second summer session. What a relief. Don't know what I was thinking. I'd love to take watercolor some other time though, maybe in the spring. Hope my refund shows up soon.

Balwearie, I detest group activities in class and always have. It doesn't enhance my "learning experience," you know? I could give a shit about my classmates, for the most part: don't care what they think, don't want to converse with them. Plus, like you said, the "Cari's" always rear their ugly heads at such times, "I'm the only one who knows anything, so I'm taking over thankyouverymuch." I dropped a class once because our grades depended on the outcome of a group project. Groups make me feel helpless and impotent. I'd much rather sink or swim on my own.

Thursday, June 30, 2005, 10:26 AM

I painted for a bit and then went back to bed. :-)

The VA urology department sent me a letter, printed on yellow paper. I'm not kidding. It's an instruction sheet with forms to fill out. I'm supposed to keep a pee diary, noting what times I go and how much. I'm not peeing into my measuring cups -- EW. So I guess I'll have to drive to the hospital just to get one of theirs. Anyway, throughout this yellow document is the word "pee," in quotes. It's like, are we too stupid to know what "urinate" means? I mean, when doctors talk about bowel movements, they don't say "poo-poo."

I'm interested in learning about airbrushing, because I'm certain that some doll artists use it, and there's a guy at the art supply store who might know where I can find a class. I'm supposed to give him a call and I've forgotten so far. The guy's name is Chester, and into my head popped "Chester the Molester," and it won't go away. Fuck.

I scraped my thigh pretty good trying to navigate around this stupid apartment. Looks like jeans for the remaining two days of class.

Got some new toys for da kitties, and a new litterbox with a drawer for collecting used litter clumps. One new thing, or things, rather, is a dozen little mice made from rabbit fur that have leather tails. The cats are treating them as if they're real, carrying them around. I've never seen them go so nuts for a toy before. You think with their own toys, they'll leave my toys alone? Probably not.

Wednesday, June 29, 2005

Hi Lois, PeonKate and Balwearie, thanks so much for your comments. What is it, hormonal? That I let such stupid things get to me? Well, thank you for understanding.

I'm gonna get back to painting now. Lots of peeps waiting for the 'puter.

I worked for three hours last night and painted two doll mouths, and that's about it. I also enhanced a doll from my own collection whose factory paint was flawed. Three hours for lips only seems like a lot of time, but I guess I'm just not a quick worker. If I try to hurry, mistakes get by. Later today I'll work on brows and eyes. I altered the hairline on one doll who was taking on a Queen Elizabeth I appearance, and I sent a pic to Anne, who criticized it: "I like the part, but doesn't the new hairline make her jaw look square?" But if I hadn't changed the hairline she'd carp about that. She also has a tendency to be a know-it-all (people who know everything bug me beyond reason). Really gonna have to cut back on that association.

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Went for a run this evening. It occurred to me that I need to work on my self-esteem, and running does wonders for my confidence. Strengthens my core. Swear pouring unchecked out of my body in rivulets seems to cleanse me.

I let that stupid cow Cari get to me because of my own sense of insecurity regarding my intellect. When she brushed me off with that smug, smarmy, self-important, superior way of hers, it made me shrivel inside. The truth is, I'm no fucking slouch in the brains department, just because I found value in other things or took a different approach, so fuck that stupid heifer anyway.

I just hate that I get tongue-tied in the case of such adversity, when what I'd really like to do is argue intelligently in my favor.

Oh, and as Cari was the one who informed the class about the Sunday writing group, suffice to say I won't be attending those.

Last time I went jogging before tonight was the night I found Heidi and brought her home. I phoned the spaniel rescue lady because I'd been keeping an eye out on their website and haven't seen Heidi yet, so I was worried. The lady told me that Heidi has a bad case of heartworms and needs treatment before adoption, but that she'll be on the website in another month or so. Poor Heidi, I hope she finds the loving home she deserves, bless her little spirit.

I have a tendency to attract people, women particularly, who turn out to have terribly overbearing, insufferable personalities. Why is that? It reminds me very much of my mother's persona when I was a kid. Anne, my dolly buddy, is turning out to be one of them. All the negativity and carping starts to make me feel like one of those gophers you pound on the head at Chucky Cheese's.

Well, let me get some dollying done before I turn in. I need to make up for those ridiculous Velvet dolls I bought.

Hi Kate and Poppy Cedes and God's Child, I read your comments after I posted my freakout. Thank you for your encouraging words regarding English majors. "Use your powers for good," that made me laugh. No, I think I tend to use my powers for evil, the curse of the poison pen.

Poppy Cedes' site referred me to Stuff On My Cat and this picture made me smile:

I think it is true that it doesn't matter what you major in, just do it and get out. So true. I take things too seriously. I went against my most important tenet of never taking anything personally.

Also from Poppy Cedes' site is this article. It is indeed scary. But it leaves me with an unanswered question: what's a Boffin?

I think I'm gonna go home and re-center myself. Love to everyone.

Jeezus CHRIST. I wish to hell I'd skipped class today. We got divided into groups and as luck would have it, in my group were the two people I like least in the whole class. Cari is about ten years younger than me, a post-bach and a high school English teacher who is a hard-headed, supercilious, thinks she knows everything, talks down anybody else's ideas and loves the sound of her own voice. Veronica, I think her name is, is a kid right out of high school who is also outspoken in her opinions but doesn't know shit. The remaining two people in the group, Emily and myself, were essentially shut out of any discussion.

So, whether this is good or bad, this is what I'm like. I said fuckit, withdrew, and let them go about their business with their high-falutin' discussions. Screw my participation grade. I just sat there and reread passages of my book. Emily actually left.

It's not like we didn't try to enter into the conversation, we were just disregarded and shot down each time. See, people like Cari and Veronica, fucking know-it-alls, make me hate English classes.

Dude, I wanted to get up early, but not this early. Nothing like the wee-hours-of-the morning insomnia. That's the kind I usually get, where I awaken and can't get back to sleep.

The cats are totally jumping around all over the place, little nocturnal fiends.

Whenever I had a sore throat as a kid, my mom would make me gargle with salt water, which I hated with a passion, but it worked. I just gargled with salt water for my throat, which is been really hurting on and off for several days, but I made the solution with sea salt, which didn't taste nearly as bad.

Questioning myself, wondering what's going on with me. Why do I feel attracted to my English teacher? Am I responding to what I sense is her attraction to me? And if so, why? What would I want to happen? Do I want to kiss a woman, be with a woman sexually, or do I just want companionship? It occurs to me that I don't have any friends in "real" time. I feel John is one of my closest friends and we've never even met. I was developing a friendship with Shay but then I lost her. What I have in my life is just what I'd call transient acquaintances. Sometimes that's okay with me but then sometimes I feel lonely. I don't expect this thing with Mike to have any permanence

I fantasize about being with a woman in bed, but the reality would be way different. I mean, people have rape fantasies but that doesn't mean they want it to happen. I need to bring this up with my shrink, who's a lesbian, but for some reason I've always been shy about this aspect--or non-aspect, whatever the case may be--of my sexuality.

What's ironic is, say I married Mike, a guy seventeen years my junior. My family would approve overall, but I'd spend the rest of my life, or however long the marriage lasted, struggling to maintain my identity in the face of his ultra-conservatism. I mean, he tolerates me well now, but I know he'd start chipping away at me (religion, body art, etc.) if we were together long term. But, say I got together with a woman who'd understand and accept me implicitly. My family would hit the roof, perhaps even disown me. Not that I really give a shit about my parents, but my brother and his wife, especially his wife, are, well, bigoted conservatives. They'd probably cut off my association with niecey in case lesbianism was catching.

And why do we have to call people "lesbians" anyway? Or "bisexual," or whatever. When the only issue at stake is two people wanting to be together.

I do know that if I had any respect and caring for "English teacher" at all, I would leave her out of my confusion; it's not her job or anyone else's, except maybe my shrink's, to coach me through a sexual identity crisis.

Another issue that comes up is, every time I go out with somebody, which is not very frequently at all, it's usually in response to his interest in me. Why the passivity? However, the very few times I've felt interest in someone, it hasn't worked out: either my feelings aren't reciprocated, or the situation's inappropriate for some reason. I swore to myself after last time, not to initiate anything again. It's like that stupid book, The Rules. I hate it, but I think it's true, that the woman needs to feel certain the guy's really interested and not just along for the ride.

Oh hell, what do I know, I'm just spewing garbage now. I'm going back to bed.

10:34 AM

I wish someone had invented a hands-free method of holding the cup of saline water to the newly-pierced navel; typing with one hand sucks.

Had a crying fit this morning and Missy consoled me. What a sweetheart.

Yesterday my notification letter regarding the urologist appointment arrived. July 12--at 8:20 in the morning! Savages! I gotta figure out a way to get there without using the freeway and getting stuck in rush-hour traffic; it can be done.

I wonder if my sexuality--well, not if, but how--has been altered by my sexual abuse. Really looking forward to talking with my doc about it. She's not the type of shrink who answers questions with a question--thank gawd. If I hear, "and how does that make you feel?" one more time, I think I'll puke.

One of the hair care products I bought over the weekend was a firm hold gel from Joico. It works GREAT. I'm so sick of my hair in the summer heat and humidity that I've decided to wear it in a knot at the back of my head and held in place by a scrunchie, and the gel takes care of any fly-aways or anything. Hair stayed in place all day long. I sound like a commercial, but if you need gel, this stuff is it.

Funny how, if I find a product I really like, I want to go tell everyone about it. Use this, use this!

Monday, June 27, 2005

Had a little word with my English teacher after class today, ostensibly to discuss my being an English major, seeing as I've been ambivalent about it for a while. Sometimes I think it's okay and sometimes I'm like, this is nuts, I'm nothing like these people. I like my English teacher and wish that she and I could get together over coffee. It's probably not appropriate though.

Okay, I'll tell you something. Prior to beginning school, in autumn or winter of 2002, I drove to the university campus for an appointment with an English advisor. I was walking down the hall toward the offices and I saw a short girl with closely cropped hair kinda check me out (I can't think of a better term for it right now). I turned my head and saw her pause before she entered her office, doing a double take. At the time I thought she was cute and I gave her a little sidelong sorta-smile. I think it was my now professor. It was a long time ago and only a short glance, but ... I'm pretty sure it was her. Same office.

Here's a pic of my Velvet dollies.

Sunday, June 26, 2005

Woke up in a puddle of blood this morning. That's always fun, before regaining consciousness having to jump in the shower, insert the biggest tampon I can find, and then gather up the bedding and throw it in the washer. Thank god I have my own washer and dryer. Then I threw on one of those t-shirt nightgowns to cover my nudity, made some tea, and here I sit. I'm also wearing a glycolic acid peel because I'm a zit farm.

Dunno what the day holds in store. I had planned to go meet some classmates who formed a fiction group; I need to get back into writing and I won't be able to get into a workshop on campus at least until next spring. But now I feel like a bloated, zitty bump on a log.

So, three of my four Velvet dolls have arrived in the mail. They're in the shape one would expect, given that they're nearly forty and have been played with, much like yours truly. What's disappointing is the original production values. The "growing" hair is of lesser quality and frizzes even with minimal handling. And as for the hair that was rooted in the head, the hair in the front of the face is long and pretty but the hair in back of the head has been given a rude chop job. That wasn't some budding little Vidal Sassoon, either, that was done at the factory. I mean, did the toy companies at the time figure that kids don't know what quality is? WRONG. I remember knowing very well. I brought this up with Anne and she remarked that all toys from the '70's were shitty, even the Madame Alexanders. So anywho, Friday night I was up until two in the morning, hand-washing Velvets' dresses, shampooing and conditioning their hair, giving them sponge baths, and giving them perms. They look pretty good, I must say. The original-issue Velvet, with the purple velvet dress, is my favorite; she was the one I wanted so badly as a child. She seems to have the friendliest face and the her lilac eyes are softer. I hesitate to do it, but she needs a trim badly. I think she can sacrifice an inch from her ponytail and 1/4 inch from the hair around her face.

The auburn-haired "Crissy" from 1982, who's actually Velvet in disguise, is kinda neat. Interesting to make comparisons. Her hair quality is superior (soft, shiny, NO FRIZZ), as is the quality of her facial screening, but she was made of thinner, lesser-quality plastic and her hair growing mechanism was terribly bastardized, reduced to a mere string in her back. Her dress is as crisp as new but wasn't properly finished on the inside seams and would fall apart if thrown in the washing machine.

On all of them, I'd say that from the very beginning they were intended as display dolls more than play dolls. The "growing" hair needs to be combed in such a way to cover the nasty stubble in the back of her head; they only look good stationary. Know what? If I'd received her as a kid, I think I would have been disappointed. I will not, however, go so far as to say, "Mom was right."

I love how Newman wrinkles his nose when he bites into something. That's so damn cute. Sometimes I could just eat him up. I love picking him up, draping him over my shoulder, and pressing my face into his fur, listening to him purr.

3:03 PM

Just came back from running errands. Why I decided to do that on a heavy flow day, and a weekend besides, is beyond me. Went to two of those "Home Labyrinth" places. I needed some plexiglass cut to size, which I'm going to use on my industrial shelving so that I can shelve books without the books falling between the wires. The first store got rid of their glass cutting machine and no longer provided that service. The second store did it, but it took me an hour to find it. After I finally got what I went for, I wanted to get the fuck outta there. While looking for a register, I got stuck behind a family of mouth-breathers shuffling along with their cart until I finally darted around them and went to the cashier with the shortest line. As it turned out, the mouth-breathers were in line right behind me and the cashier had the utmost difficulty with my card and finally was obliged to enter the info manually. So the mouth-breathers had to wait and wait and wait and they sighed and tapped their feet and crossed their arms and shot me filthy looks. Did I repent? --Fuck no. Fuck them.

Then I went to a beauty supply place where I spent way too much money on hair shit. Some women's weakness is shoes; mine is hair care products, salon-quality of course. Where else did I go. Oh, I went to Tarjez and bought some super-industrial strength tampons. I think that's it. Oh no, I also went to the art-supply place and bought some Prismacolor pencils and other whatnots.

Oops, it just occurred to me that I missed the meeting with the writing group. Oh well.

Here's Peep making love to a sheepskin:

Saturday, June 25, 2005

Don't have much to say; this is gonna be short. Saw Bewitched this afternoon. Save your money, it sucked donkey balls. Only thing that tickled me was that Samantha's cat was a tortie who looked amazingly like Peep!

Earlier today went tooling around the town with my dolly buddy Anne and her hubby. We went to a "doll hospital," the only one in town I think. I was insulted by some old queen fart telling me to give "the doctor" some breathing space while she worked on an antique German composite doll. Shit, I was just watching the venerated artiste. My immediate response was to think, "fine, they just won't get any of my green," and they didn't.

Friday, June 24, 2005

I'm having serious second thoughts about attending watercolor class for the second summer session. It's starting to sound like too much "work," five hours a day, four times a week, plus homework. What I think I would like to do instead is stay at home for those few weeks and focus on making some money. I need to do dollies and also take care of the organization in my house, try to fix it so it's not hard to keep tidy. I've got zero closets and cabinets in this place. Maybe I need to get a chest of drawers or something. I dunno, shit.

Mike and I had sex yesterday, as in, intercourse. It was awkward, as first times usually are. I was *very* impressed with his discipline--he held off from orgasm for much longer than men with years of experience. In fact, he held off for too long because I'm out of practice and out of shape and had to beg off after some time passed. Why is fantasizing about it so different from actually doing it? I think he felt disappointed although he didn't say so. He said all the right things, as a matter of fact, as he usually does. He's a very studious person and I'm sure learned the things that a woman likes to hear. He approaches everything with an intense, hard-working attitude. While I admire that about him and know that it's a trait that will take him far, I wish he'd chill out once in a while.

Wednesday, June 22, 2005

Hi Lois! Just read your comment. My throat's better, thank you. Sorry about all the dribble; you know me, verbally incontinent.

Wanted to give y'all an update regarding my Velvet fixation. Um, I won three of them on eBay, four of them if you count the 1982 Crissy that used the Velvet sculpt. I know, I know. I placed bids, not expecting to win them all. Indeed, one only went for $9.99! So, I'll scavenge the best of the best and re-sell what's left over.

Balvennie, thanks for the advice regarding sewing for Velvet. It might be a worthwhile endeavor; I've even got some colorful, Mod-looking fabrics whose patterns are too big for Tyler et al.

V, yeah, I wanted roller skates too! I had the kind that strapped onto my street shoes, but I wanted ones with pretty white boots like what ice skaters wear. Never got those. But I've got blades now, and I love them. If you take up roller skating or blading, though, be careful. I broke my tailbone my first trek out on the blades. Ouchy.

Today in Anglish class we had to get into little groups to discuss some crap, and one of the gals there totally pissed me off with her blow-ass little self. That's what turns me off about being an English major, a creative writing major. No likely that crowd.

Awright gang, I'm going home. [Wonder if any of my Velvets have been delivered yet?]

GAWD what a day. I was terribly cranky most of the day, I think I must be PMS-ing.

So, I figured, I already feel like shit, so why not get my belly button re-pierced? So I did. It hurt (say it all together now: DUH!); however, it didn't hurt nearly as much as the first time I got it done. I'm glad I did it, it's like seeing an old friend. Beforehand, I gorged myself silly on sushi.

Now I'm tired.

Had a dream that I was in a play that was put together at the last minute, "The Wizard of Oz," and I was to play Glinda the Good Witch. I was in a pink dress and everything, but I realized that I didn't know my lines. Not that I'd shirked learning them, but that they were never given to me. I went up to the director of the play and she didn't have them either, and I wasn't relishing being on the stage and making a fool of myself. This dilemma dragged on and on until finally I forced myself to wake up, saying with much relief, "I'm not playing Glinda."

Then I dreamed I was working in the accounting department of my old company, where my SIL now works, when I got a call from the boss of the purchasing department, where I'd worked in the past and got "fired" from, more or less. The firing was in real life. God I hated that job, the people were awful, horrible. Then when I got my review my boss said that I had "poor people skills." That fuck, that cigar-smoking good ol' boy, he was just pissed off that he had to pause and pay attention to what was going on for a change. Not to say that I don't have "poor people skills," but those jokers were serious assholes. Anyway, back to the dream, I dreamed that I got a call from this good ol' boy and that he asked me to return to purchasing and take a position there, that he needed me. Then there was a fire drill and we had to get off the phone. Saved by the bell. I went around telling everyone about that phone call, boasting that he'd come back begging, realizing that I was of value after all, but that there was no way in hell I'd go back, but I wasn't boastful inside, maybe just bemused.

Then I dreamed that there was some kind of doll people were into, it had a jointed, plain wooden body, sorta like those artist dolls, but it had a big round head. The person painted it, wigged it, and costumed it, and all the components were sold separately for total customization. This is not unlike the Asian ball-joined-dolls that everyone's jonesing for. Well, anyway, it was weird.

I think some fuck-knuckle took a picture of me with his cell phone on campus yesterday. Why, I can't imagine.

I've been dressing a bit more femininely lately. Nothing drastic, just that the tops I bought are made for women and are a bit more fitted (but not skin-tight), without the excessive volumes of fabric like the men's t-shirts I usually wear. I've noticed a lot more guys checking me out. It's weird. I'm not altogether sure I like this attention, but I don't like being invisible either. Sometimes, if a guy is classless and blatant about it, I get a little derisive: "Aww, too bad you've never seen a woman before." I don't say this, of course. Funny, also, about wearing my sunglasses on campus. Naturally, you can't tell they're prescription, and I get more looks than if I were wearing my regular glasses. Society is weird. People are weird. Maybe I'll just say fuckitall and hit on my English teacher. She's cute. I'm sick of the whole "woman as object" thing. Is this from living in the south, where men are men and sheep are afraid?

Well, maybe not "hit on" my English teacher, but I would like to sit down with her over tea and converse, about topics such as this. I'd be interested in exploring her brilliance, and seeing how our brands of intelligence compare. She's got the education and I've got the age/experience.

I have got to mail out my eBay sales today, right now! I'm the worst at mailing out, the worst. It's the only part I really hate.

Peep's tearing up a promotional brochure I got in the mail. I loves my crazy kitties.

Oh, guess what. Remember what I said about not having fish? Never mind. I got two bettas last time I was at Wallyworld. Must be a "rescue" syndrome. They're both young, which is hard to find, and feisty, which is good. I'm tired of getting fish who are already sick before purchase. They seem pretty pleased with their new accommodations, in the divided ten-gallon tank. I mean, if I'm gonna have that stupid tank set up anyway, I may as well put a fish in it.

Monday, June 20, 2005

Feeling out of sorts, nothing terribly unusual. I'm so tired and my back's vaguely sore. I hope I'm not being alarmist, I hope I don't have a kidney infection. I do tend to be a bit of a hypochondriac sometimes.

Anyway my mind's blank, so I'll close for now.

Sunday, June 19, 2005

This may or may not come as a surprise, but I'm suffering from a serious case of "I've lost my mind." When I was four or five, and this would have been 1970 or so, my girlfriends next door had those Crissy dolls, the ones with growing hair. I wanted one of Crissy's friends, Velvet, who had lilac eyes, pale blond hair and wore a purple velvet minidress. Wanted her so badly I could taste it. But I was always told no no no no no no no. How much could she have cost at the time, five bucks? Would it have killed my parents to get me what I wanted, once in a while? I guess they thought I'd thank them later for making sure I wasn't "spoiled." Well guess what? I still remember how badly I wanted that damn doll! Jesus. As my dolly buddy Anne says, "Deprive a child, create a collector." So lately I've been trolling eBait for some Velvets in good condition, with the original outfit and sleek, not fuzzy, hair. The really nice ones go for a lot of money. I hope I can find a good deal. I can't wait to get her, can't wait to play with her, brush her hair.

10:29 PM

Dude, my throat is fucking killing me.

Just kinda sitting here, idly staring out the window. Gonna be another hot one. Gonna work all day, regardless of how much I sweat.

Had a really nice day at my bro's. He and SIL are babysitting their friend's kids, nine-year-old twins. I've written about their mother before; I quite dislike her. What's funny is, I don't care for any of my bro and SIL's friends that I've met -- I must be too bohemian, still an undergrad and wearing multiple piercings. Don't know if I've mentioned that where my bro lives and their social circle are very upper-middle-class and conservative. They wouldn't respect someone with an artistic temperament unless that person is already successful and making millions of dollars. Anyway, funnily, even though I don't care for their mom, those kids are alright, well-behaved and bright. They'd gotten dumped on bro and SIL at the last minute and poor bro and SIL were so worn out. Minding kids takes a lot out of a person and requires infinite patience. I don't know how anybody has the energy.

Poor Heidi wore me out and (a) she wasn't even a human kid; and (b) she wasn't here for very long. I wonder how she's doing. The more I think about it, the more it seems likely that I encountered here very shortly after she'd been dropped off. Nothing else would explain why she would sit so stock-still in the middle of the lane, staring intently in one direction.

Time to get to work. Let's put on some 80's music.

2:05 PM

Haven't accomplished much so far except to change the water in my fish tank. That's rather ironic because, for the first time in ten years, I don't have any fish. I'm keeping it that way, too. I'm a horrible fish mommy; totally neglect the little bastards until they croak (I'm probably going to hell for that). So I said, no more. But the kitties have gotten into the habit of camping out on top of the fish tank (plexiglass cover so it won't break) and drinking from the filter. I'd considered buying them one of those water fountain watering dishes when I realized I already had one on hand, all paid for. So that's why the fish tank is still set up. I've got some aquatic plants in there, but they don't need attention every day.

Saturday, June 18, 2005

Was pleased to hear from my bro yesterday. He invited me over to his place to hang out. Cool! Maybe we'll rent movies and stuff. It'll be nice to see him and everybody.

It just occurred to me how nice it is to have my downstairs neighbor, who's black and speaks with an accent. He's a nurse and he is SO quiet. So quiet, it's a pleasure. Never hear a peep out of him. I say this because last summer the genius then-manager rented several units to some teens on a summer internship program, including the apartment below me. Those fuckers were away from their parents and acted like they were in freakin' Fort Lauderdale. Screaming at the pool at all hours, etc. The asshole below me brought his surround-sound entertainment system, upon which, usually beginning at 11 p.m., he played video games with his bass on high. You know how bass carries. Oi it was a long summer. I think that dude got kicked out early though; I complained at the office once or twice, and others must have as well.

Anyway, I'm going with my bro and his family to the Hong Kong market, which will be a lot of fun. My bro and SIL want to get some "exotic" fruit like what they ate in Kuala Lumpur. I'd like to find some jasmine tea and do some general tooling around.

That Angelina Jolie -- what *doesn't* she have? She's got it all: endless legs, beautiful eyes, perfect skin, absolutely straight nose, those lips, luminous smile, lustrous hair, slender body and big boobs. She oozes sex in a manner that's almost palpable. Damn. Plus I like her acting, which comes across as intelligent. I don’t think I've seen any of her other movies. Oh, wait, there was one with ol' Billy Bob, I don't remember what it was called, but I hated that.

So, into the shower.

Friday, June 17, 2005

Yesterday we got our midterms back and I got 100. Can you believe that? I totally couldn't. Plus, she wrote "excellent" on it, twice. I'm gonna have that fucker bronzed.

Saw Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants yesterday. Felt somewhat angry at the end, it was such a blatant tearjerker. I felt manipulated. I've cried at other movies and didn't feel that way, like Amelie, for example. That movie felt poignant and relevant. This movie had little substance. I do like Alexis Bledel, though, with her winsome face, and her storyline was sweet. Still, I can't believe the local fishrag gave the movie four stars. That's the last time I trust it. Oh, the Pants movie had such obvious product placement, too.

I've noticed that I've been getting too much sun exposure just from walking to class and such, so I bought moisturizers containing sunscreen. My facial moisturizer, Neutrogena, has SPF 30 but I couldn't find a body moisturizer with higher than SPF 15, which is Lubriderm. Of course, I could have just looked for a proper "sunscreen," duh. The Lubrdiderm has a cloying perfume, yuck. If I'd known that, I wouldn't have gotten it.

4:48 PM

It's so nasty hot that I'm tempted to go to the movies again just to sit in the AC. Batman's playing, but that's the kind of movie one sees with friends. I was hoping that Mike and I would see more of each other, hang out a bit, go to movies or whatever, but that hasn't happened. I get the odd email but that's it. Well, if it fades away of its own accord, I'll just let it; I won't pursue him anymore. I find I actually don't care one way or the other.

Maybe I'll see Mr. And Mrs. Smith, even though I've heard it's mediocre. Angelina Jolie is worth seeing for two hours straight. Brad Pitt ... my ex used to tease me by saying, "Brad Pitt," just to see the silly grin I'd get on my face (this was in retaliation for my teasing him about Gwyneth Paltrow). Nowadays , Pitt doesn't really do it for me; maybe I can't forgive him for leaving his wife.

I wrote a letter to Dr. Phil, asking him for advice regarding my dreams about high school. Why the hell not. Wouldn't it be a kick to see it published?

11:19 PM

Just came back from seeing Mr. And Mrs. Smith. I quite enjoyed it! Partly because I wasn't expecting much and partly because the last two movies I saw more or less sucked. The two leads had a lot of chemistry and both handled the action scenes well. Good date movie, something for everyone. They blowed stuff up real good too. Least favorite part: chase scene. I find 99% of chase scenes to be tedious as hell. Still, I recommend this movie for good rollicking fun and Angelina Jolie's mouth.

Thursday, June 16, 2005

My mom has this thing with "ugly." Last time I visited, we were talking about feet (dunno why) and she said that Oma's feet were ugly. I had never thought about it in those terms. Oma had old lady feet and terrible bunions from wearing shoes that were too small in her youth, but they were just *her* feet and I didn't consider them aesthetically. Another example: Oprah is a woman I admire very much because she pulled herself up from nothing but hasn't forgotten her roots. One time on her show she revealed to the world what she looks like without makeup. She looks a good deal different because she doesn't have any eyelashes, as she says, and her makeup artist contours her face with highlights and lowlights. My mom and I were discussing it afterward and she said something like, "Did you see Oprah without makeup? She's ugly!" Again, it gave me pause -- I hadn't passed judgment, I'd considered Oprah brave and generous and incredibly secure to reveal that side of herself. I'm glad that I generally don't regard things so short-sightedly. --Well, sometimes I do I guess. Like, if a doll comes out that we don't like, Anne and I will be like, "Gah! That doll is fugly!" Or something like that. I mean, I'm not trying to toot my own horn, I'm just saying that my mom inhabits a very small internal world. It's SO much nicer to live free of judgment, because it means that you are free of harsh self-criticism too.

Wednesday, June 15, 2005

Drove Heidi to meet Pat, the rescue lady, this afternoon. The exchange took place in just a couple of minutes, I handed over the leash and that was that. I didn't really get a chance to say good-bye. Pat seemed oddly unconcerned with where I found Heidi or if I made any effort to find her owners. Maybe, like me, she figures that she doesn't need to go back there anyway, to an environment where she was obviously mistreated.

Anyway, I'm very grateful that the spaniel rescue could take Heidi and I hope to god she winds up in a good home. Sending kind thoughts Heidi's way would be appreciated. :-)

Oddly, I feel sad, bereft. I didn't have her very long but there's an empty place where she was. Jesus Christ, how could I ever give the kitties away, after having them nine months? I pick up Newman and hold him up to my cheek, and he purrs and purrs. And Peep, who's always been the most skittish and remote of the three, is coming around and being more affectionate. Missy's won my heart too, with her goofy self, always climbing somewhere and then unable to get down by herself.

I wonder if I came upon Heidi mere seconds or minutes after she was dumped, judging by the way she was sitting there in the road, steadfastly looking in one direction. I mean, she was right in the center of the lane and would surely have been run over in due course.

Recipe for the ass-kickinest mocha frappaccino:

Make some coffee in your vaccuum brewer with the usual amount of fresh grounds but about half the water. Put the desired amount of sugar in the blender, topped by the coffee and a chunk of Abuelita Mexican chocolate. Blend. Fill a glass with ice and whole milk about 3/4 high and pour that in the blender. Blend. YUM!

Abuelita is the bomb, if you can find it. The *best* hot chocolate I've ever had. It has a cinnamony quality. It comes in a yellow box with the picture of a kindly grandmother, and it's a Nestle product.

Went to the doc yesterday. Got meds, thank god. They put in a referral for me to a urologist to see why I get these recurring bladder infections. She said to arrive to the appointment with a full bladder and then the docs will probably give me a catheter or something and monitor how I pee. That sounds positively horrifying. I'm halfway hoping that my case will fall between the cracks, although it would be nice to never worry about bladder infections again. I mean, like, if they could find what the problem is and fix it, which is dubious.

As long as I can remember, I'd periodically get a stinging sensation in my urethra. I now know that's a result of not drinking enough water. But then I thought I was being punished for being an inherently bad person; I was so filled with shame by my dad's molestations and my mother's constant screaming and scolding.

Miss Heidi went pee and poop on her morning walk, yay yay. I've been feeding her a mixture of green beans, unseasoned rice, and canned salmon, and her poop looked good, not runny (her system didn't take well to the chicken noodle soup I fed a couple of days ago). We walked past some balloons tied to a sign on the neighboring apartment property [WHY do apartments do that? Do balloons automatically make people say, "wow, that's a great place to live -- look at the balloons"? Plus it's so environmentally wasteful.]. Heidi was scared of the balloons and started barking at them. We gave the balloons a wide berth but I encouraged and praised Heidi; it was the first time I'd seen her tail up in the air. Normally it's firmly glued to her backside.

Got a call from the spaniel rescue lady but she couldn't talk so I'm waiting for her to call me back. I really hope that they can take Heidi on. Heidi needs medical attention concerning her weeping eyes, and a foster or a forever home where she can live outside her crate! She also needs to be spayed so she won't be subjected to having more puppies. Heidi's teeth look good and I'm guessing that she's still quite young, between one and two years. If the rescue can't help, I'll be forced to take Heidi to a shelter. With any luck a no-kill shelter in town can help. Heidi's completely adoptable -- she likes people and other dogs, and she needs help to get over her fear.

Anyway.

My last doll sold, barely. I put a *lot* of work into her: hair highlights, facial contouring, not to mention several weeks of slaving over her eyes. And she didn't sell for much at all. Still, it's better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick. At least I can say that all of my repaints have sold; some artists can't say that. And did I tell you? Some older repaints have come up on the secondary market, from prominent artists when they were first starting out, and you know what? Their work at that point wasn't nearly as good as mine is now. So that gives me hope.

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

You know something that's grossing me out? Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes. I don't give a shit that they're seeing each other, I don't give a shit about the age difference between them (talk about the pot calling the kettle black), but must they paw each other in public and gush incessantly? Gross.

Took Heidi for a walk about an hour ago, first walk of the day, and she didn't do anything! I know she had to pee! Gawd I hate that. Phoebe used to do that too, get too excited to be outside and too interested in her sniffy sniffy to do her business.

Yesterday evening I heard someone yelling, "Bo! Bo! Get back over here!" I turned to see this tiny terrier making serious tracks toward us. I think dogs running toward you is the cutest thing. So I paused and let Bo (probably not his name but I can't remember it) and Heidi meet, and they were wonderful together. Bo's owner, a young man, followed and apologized. I said, "That's all right! He's a cutie!" The guy was joined by his wife and I mentioned that Heidi isn't mine, that I'd found her, and that I couldn't keep her because she's chasing my cats. The girl, obviously a bleeding heart like me, said, "Oh! We can take her!" Her husband objected. But she went on, "We have friends with dogs." If they could take Heidi off my hands, I'd be ever so grateful. I'm not giving Heidi the treatment, attention and affection she deserves; she's such a sweet dog.

2:15 PM

Alright, onward to the hospital for some bladder meds. Spent the last two hours on the john. I hate this.

Monday, June 13, 2005

Got my midterm done and turned in, yay yay.

Haven't gone to see a doc regarding my bladder; we'll see how it goes. Right now I feel pretty good. I found some Craisins and have been eating those. If I feel like shit tomorrow, and I probably will because these things just don't go away by themselves, I'll ditch school and see a doc.

So, Wacko Jacko walked, did he? Of course he did.

We have to read Cat's Eye by Margaret Atwood in class and I've had a copy of that book for years, just read it all the way through last winter. Now, I can't find it. I found the other books I have by Atwood and I even found Moby Dick, ugh, but I can't find this. I fear that I loaned it to a certain dickhead who shall remain nameless but whose initials are Eduard. What a waste -- he totally didn't dig the things I liked, was actually disdainful, in fact. I hate pseud-intellectual cunts like him. There's nothing worse than a gottdamn drunk. (But it was oh, so familiar; I slipped into it very easily, even as I questioned myself.)

Have to walk Heidi. Walked her after school but she didn't do anything. She's been crated all damn day, poor soul. I placed a second call in to Spaniel Rescue but I haven't heard back yet. I desperately need them to take her. Haven't heard from anyone who might have read a flyer either. I'll bet she was dumped off. Maybe they got pissed off at her because she rolled in a dead squirrel right after coming home from the groomers, so they took her for a car ride.

My mouse died for some reason. Fun navigating the computer without it. Cut my hand on a tin can while taking out some trash. Bled like a stuck pig. Not my day!

"Gloom, despair, and agony on me. Deep dark depression, excessive misery. If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all. Gloom, despair and agony on me."

Yes folks, my family watched HeeHaw when I was a kid, god help us all.

Take-home midterm due today that I haven't done. That dog has got to go. I dropped my electric burr grinder and broke the plastic hopper, scattering my freshly-roasted coffee beans all over the floor. And the kicker: I've got another bladder infection. I've got no money and I'm not sure I have enough gas to get to the hospital and back, especially after driving around yesterday, posting flyers. So I'm feeling pretty shitty right now.

Why why why why why why? I hate my gottdamn bladder.

Here I am, supposedly improving my life by going to school, and I hate school. I like learning new stuff, and it sure beats the hell out of work, but I hate papers and tests. For this midterm, I guess I can just spit out some inane bullshit and disregard whatever grade that might fetch me; I just need to get it done. No turning this puppy in late.

The cats won't leave the living room while the dog is here, even when she's in her crate, so I had to bring the litter box and their food and water dishes out here. I've been confining Heidi too much and she slams her aluminum food dish against the bars. "Attica! Attica!" God, PLEASE, let someone call about this dog and take her off my hands. I don't have the resources to take care of her, and she doesn't get along with the cats. I'm sure she doesn't mean any harm, but she wants to chase them.

Should I work on the midterm here or should I go to the campus to work in air-conditioned comfort? And that's another thing: my place is hot and nasty and it's too hot to clean. I'm such a dick. I hate this.

And pretty much, all this is all my fault.

On a totally unrelated and unimportant note: I've got a couple of nude dolls that aren't really worth selling on eBay, a pre-Tonner Effanbee Brenda Starr and a Willow from the Daisy & Willow line by Knickerbocker. "The Mod British Birds." Both those dolls have heads the size of pumpkins. It was handy to have a friend who had a little girl, because I could be relatively sure she'd like what I pawned off on her.

There's one girl in my lit class who I find to be disagreeable. She's in my journal group and I used to think she was okay, but last time we had a discussion about Housekeeping, all of a sudden, zzzzzzzt zzzzzzzzzzt, there was friction. She sided with Lucille and I sided with Ruth and Sylvie. I could see that she is one of those conformist types who wouldn't hesitate to dump someone or something if they're less than socially celebrated. Instant dislike. After the discussion, she and I moved back to our respective seats and didn't address each other again.

I think I need to learn how to keep my mouth shut. I speak out too much in class. I feel as if I don't express my opinion, I'll explode, but I don't think anyone is interested in my opinion. If I don't participate in class discussions, will I still feel engaged, or will I sit outside of it?

Sunday, June 12, 2005

When I took Heidi for a walk this morning, she peed twice and pooped once. Judging by her poop--looked to me like kibble poop--she only got out yesterday, so surely she belongs to someone around here. I'll print out some signs when the leasing office opens. I'll leave the description to a bare minimum so that when somebody calls, I can have them describe her. I put some neem oil in her ears earlier because she either has a yeast infection or ear mites, and the neem is good for either.

Speaking of ears, my piercings are infected. I have a cartilage piercing dating from 1996, but I changed the earring and it goes off every time I mess with the jewelry. So I've been putting hot compresses on my ear and applying that solution the ear piercing place provided, and it's been feeling better.

ALL of the cats are camping out on top of my Ikea armoire now, knocking over ornaments to make room for themselves.

http://img120.echo.cx/img120/7563/kittiesarmoir11uk.jpg

http://img120.echo.cx/img120/6765/kittiesarmoir31lv.jpg

http://img120.echo.cx/img120/1504/kittiesarmoir40ba.jpg

This morning I made myself a frappaccino and it was GOOD. Nice way to have my coffee on a hot summer day.

Saturday, June 11, 2005

Okay. So I decide to go for a run at dusk when it's nice and cool. I usually run a circle on the street around the lake. About midway, I see this little light brown thing in the road, stationary. It was hard to tell what it was without my glasses and in the failing light. Was it a piece of wood? As I approached I could see it was a dog. It just sat there and watched me. I stopped and talked to it, said, "Are you someone I know?" The dog seemed friendly but very cowed. I coaxed it off the street and to the side of the road, where I petted it and discovered it's a she, and she's had puppies not too long ago. Spaniel of some kind, recently shaved fur, clipped nails, no collar. Eyes weeping terribly. Kept her tail down consistently. There were some people nearby and I chatted with them a bit, asking them if they knew the dog, but they'd never seen her. I couldn't see just leaving her, seeing as she was so street unsavvy, but I didn't have my car, of course, and no leash, so I wound up carrying her home, a prospect I did not relish since it must have been at least a couple of miles. She allowed me to pick her up and carry her that whole way without a problem, but holy shit did she get heavy. Got my bicep workout for the day, if not my jog. I'd say she weighs 20-25 pounds.

Once home she chased the cats of course, who are now not speaking to me. Newman, being as smart as he is, has camped out on top of the armoire. The dog wasn't nearly as bad as Andy and Phoebe though, seeing as she's not a terrier, and she stopped when I told her to. She sniffed and explored with interest. She showed no interest in the kitty food, and she was a bit overexcited, so I put her in a crate with some water, which she lapped up like it was going out of style, and I gave her some chicken noodle soup too. That's a bit too salty for her, but I've got nothing in the house. I guess tomorrow I'll take her picture, print out some flyers, and distribute them in the neighborhood. Or should I just contact a spaniel rescue first? I mean, this dog appears to be quite young, judging by the teeth, and she's already whelped. What if she's from a puppy mill or backyard breeder? I wouldn't want her to go back there. Her posture indicates that she's been mistreated. Or maybe someone dumped her off, which would be preferable because then she'd have an opportunity to find a good home. She really is a darling, sweet-natured and obedient, and crate-trained. No, I don't think I'll post flyers until I speak to spaniel rescue.

She'd better go for a walk after all that water she drank. Luckily I've got a spare leash and some newfangled harness that I hope I can figure out.

11:02 PM

Walked Heidi, which is what I'm calling her, but she didn't do anything but sniff. I gave her a bath upon our return because she'd obviously rolled in something dead, bleah.

My poor kitty cats are hungry. I ran out of kitty kibble and so I had to take some meat out of the freezer; can't feed them until it thaws. Peep is mewing piteously. Sorry, baby, you're gonna have to wait. Have to order some more Flint River Ranch this week. Can't believe how quickly we ran through twenty pounds.

Day-before-yesterday I finally put away my doubts about my physical appearance (I'm too jiggly, I've got cellulite, I'm too pale, I've got a bruise, there's a zit on my butt, etc.) and went for a swim at the campus rec center for the first time. I guess I swam laps for about thirty minutes. I love to swim. Only thing I don't like about it is getting water in my ears, so I'll have to get some of those silicon ear seals. Anyway, I was doing the breastroke, sidestrokes and backstroke. I don't ordinarily stretch and reach in those motions and forgot how good it feels. It also felt great to be gliding in the water. I anticipated being sore afterward, but I'm surprised by the locations of my soreness: my butt and inner thighs mostly. I thought my pecs would be killing me but they're not. There's some soreness in my shoulders, a little in my arms, and, of all places, under my chin! I suppose that's good, to keep my chin toned.

My mom taught my brother and me how to swim almost before we learned to talk. She put those inflatable flotation devices around our arms and away we went. Swimming was an integral part of my growing up. In Germany we loved going to the town Schwimmbad with our Oma and in BFE we often went to the local lake. In fact, while I was swimming the other day I thought of my Oma. She was a lousy mother, but a good grandma.

So anyway, it was good to rediscover swimming, and I plan to make it a regular occurrence. I mean, it's really perfect exercise; it's resistance training and stretching too, like Pilates. While doing the backstroke, my ears are submerged and all I hear is the sound of my breathing, so it's meditative too. And afterward I feel so at peace with myself and so refreshed, unlike the traditional pound-the-pavement-and-sweat exercising I usually do which makes me feel worn out.

1:46 PM

Wooooooo! I'd ordered a bunch of clothes from L. L. Bean because they were having a big sale. Scored a couple pair of shorts and a bunch of tops for about half off. Schweet! Of course, that's the reason I'm broke now, but never mind. Good summer clothes last a long time, and if I'm traipsing about the campus all summer long, I need them.

I ordered all the L. L. Bean tops in small, even though I wear size 10 pants. I find their tops run large. What's happened with sizing, anyway? Have sizes gotten bigger? Have I gotten smaller? Technically, I wear the same size I did in high school, but I remember then my hips being wider. Nowadays, when I get misses' shorts or pants, there's some empty space at the hips. Oh, I'll bet I know what it is: my booty has gotten flatter. I used to have a downright bulbous ass, but it flattened out about my mid-thirties. Weird. I do know that I can wear men's jeans with ease. I might try the L. L. Bean straight-legged jeans for men since their women's jeans have tapered legs, which I don't like.

Ruminations, ruminations. Those cats are gonna kill me and eat me if I don't set about getting their meal.

3:51 p.m.

They ate their food and Newman expressed his thanks by butting me with his head and purring. I like it when he's affectionate; it's not that often. I like when he tumbles over onto his back and has me scratch his soft tummy.

Friday, June 10, 2005

Tonight I stayed up late working on that one doll project that eludes me, and hopefully I've got it right this time. I need to make some change -- pronto.

Thursday, June 09, 2005

Funny little truth that I've known all long: in my husband I was seeking a friend and partner and not so much a lover. Guess that wasn't fair to him, but it doesn't matter since he's a tool anyway.

Saw Mike today; we met in the VA computer lab coincidentally. He apparently doesn't think less of me for being a heathen, which is good. Fuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckme.

Gawd, I just hate when I put something down for a second and then I can't find it again. Makes me feel like such a retard.

Wednesday, June 08, 2005

With the exception of his comment regarding the word "equality," I really enjoyed this article.

Hey, Mike still hasn't replied to my last email. It's not completely unusual because often there have been a couple of days between our communications, but I'm still wondering what kind of impact, if any, my words had on him.

For English we're reading Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson. Like most of the class, I'm somewhat nonplussed by the book, with its lengthy prose and endless descriptions. It has a certain lyrical, poetic quality, but, maybe because it was a required reading, I'm far too pragmatic to have patience for it. However, there are passages that describe the protagonist, Ruthie, who's grown too tall and lanky and whose best friend and sister has begun to desert her. Lucille, the sister, has suddenly taken an interest in being "normal" and is developing a new persona and cultivating new acquaintances. Suddenly, she won't be seen walking to school with Ruthie and she won't speak to her during school hours, even though they see each other from time to time. That is exactly what Liz did, to a T. She would walk right past me in the cafeteria, looking directly at me without acknowledgement as if I were a stranger; then after school, she'd call and chat as if all was in order. After a few times, when she called I just told her that I couldn't talk right now and hung up, and after a couple of those she stopped calling. I'm embarrassed that I still dream about her when what happened must certainly be an ordinary occurrence in adolescence. Still, it was a betrayal and I took it very hard. I hadn't realized, until she was gone, how much Liz had become a part of me and how much I valued her. And like my marriage, I felt betrayed by myself as well, that I'd chosen someone who had the capacity to treat me that way. Yeah, when you look at it, my friendship with Liz and my marriage were parallel, like history repeating itself. I had no sexual desire for Liz, but then again, I had no sexual desire for my husband, either.

Tuesday, June 07, 2005

The kittycats are out of their minds this morning, carousing and carrying on. Peep's so funny when she lays on her back and spreads out her front paws. I bought some "pleather" to make some doll crap, and, because I am me, it's on the living room floor. The cats love it! Rolling around in it. They're so crazy.

Yeah, I tried to make a dress. From the mod era, in case you're wondering about my choice of fabrics. Sewing is not my forte and I'm somewhat easily discouraged. I think there are errors in the pattern, too; I got it from Haute Doll magazine.

I wanted to get up early this morning and go for a run before it got too hot, but I couldn't fall asleep last night, and then I couldn't stay asleep. I think I took my Wellbutrin too close to bedtime. Plus, it's not cooling off overnight as well anymore. Time to get that bloody A/C fixed. Anyway, I guess I'll run this evening. I ran yesterday in the later afternoon and though I did fine, it was a tad bit hot. Funny, right now I prefer to run around in my neighborhood rather than go to the campus gym. I seldom feel self-conscious when I work out in a gym but it's different at the campus because of my age. I'd rather take care of some excess jiggles before I go there. Luckily, my metabolism is such, aided by my anti-depressants, that I lose weight very fast. I already feel that my belly fat is reduced just from yesterday. Y' know, I love to swim and I have yet to use the rec center's fabulous indoor pool. Really need to do that.

My English teacher appears to be in her early thirties and she's already a Ph.D. She has the most beautiful voice! She should supplement her income by reading books for CD. I find myself listening to the sound of her voice and not her lecture. That's no good. There's a harsh set of lights that shine on the whiteboard in front of the class, and while she lectures she walks around and back and forth. Remember that Seinfeld episode where one of his dates looked fabulous one minute and scary-ugly the next, depending on the lighting? My teacher's not scary-ugly at all; I'm just saying that the direct light casts harsh shadows on her face and changes her appearance, and then she steps back into the indirect ambient room lighting and her face appears soft and gentle. She has a pretty smile but she seldom flashes it.

I have one of those faces, by the way, largely due to my acne scars. Unflattering light is not kind to me. One of these days I'm getting a procedure to rid myself of those damn scars. It's the only thing about my appearance I rue. I can live with the nose that scoots slightly over to one side or the fact that one of my ears is higher than the other. :-) Prolly the only other physical thing I'd change about myself (but cannot), is the fact that one of my legs is substantially longer than the other and one foot is bigger than the other, by almost a shoe size. I'd make both my legs the length of the longer one and my feet the size of my smaller one.

I guess I'm lucky to be satisfied overall with my physical appearance. In years past I used to torment myself; I look back, and I was totally wasting my time -- I was hot! Coming to terms with my small boobs was one of the nicest things. I love my boobs! I've got stretch marks and cellulite on my butt and upper thighs, but oh well. Anyway, that's enough about me.

I read in a couple of texts recently that the mouth, rather than the eyes, reveal a person's character. Last time I was visiting my folks, my mom and I sat talking in the early morning. It was somewhat dark (it's always dark in that dungeon they call a house) and she was seated before the computer monitor. Its light cast odd shadows on her face, accentuating the downturned corners of her mouth. Through years of unhappiness, the grooves from the corners of her mouth have met her chin and for a moment she took on the appearance of a ventriloquist's dummy. I've resolved to start smiling more.

Last night I was wondering if Mike would care to make love to a heathen or if his choice fuck would have to be Christian. But come on, Mike, what good are heathens for, if not to fuck?

I'm serious, dude. When I got a look at that cock, Oh. My. God. I've gotta have it. I don't care if he condescends toward me, I want to wring every bit of pleasure I can get out of him.

Monday, June 06, 2005

It doesn't bother me because I just want him to fuck me and not marry me, but Mike disapproves of body piercings and tattoos. I told him I'm getting my navel re-pierced and he said something to the effect of that's not classy. I said, "Well, you've seen my tattoo," and he goes, "Yeah, but you can always get rid of that." I said, "I'm keeping it!" The only time I'll get rid of my tattoo is when I'm 60 or 70 and it's faded and bled to something indistinguishable. And, who's to say I won't get another one, as I made a point to mention. Why does he want to grope me all over if he doesn't think I'm classy? I said to him, "Define class," and he was unable to.

There's no one in the VA office but women right now, and that's kinda cool. I'm the only white one though, and so it doesn't seem that I'm allowed to jump into their conversations. I dunno. I'm just me. I can't help that I'm white and I won't apologize for it. I still think these chicks are pretty cool. I don't know many many female veterans.

John tipped me off to this:

To the Editor:

Under the present command, when anything goes well
in the military, the president, Congress, the Defense Department and the
generals fall over one another taking credit. But when something goes awry, they
start another investigation and bust a private.

Perhaps recruiting will improve when the leadership
does.

Joseph Chianese
Oakland, Calif.,
May 29, 2005

BRAVO, Joseph! Well said!!

I feel Mike and I are engaged in a power struggle. He wants to change me to suit his perceptions of how a woman should be, and I'm just trying to get him to fuck me. Whether I'm successful or not remains to be seen, but the prospect recently became more dubious. Mike wrote this to me:

Say, have you ever thought of becoming a Christian and accepting Jesus as your
Lord and Savior? It's easy and it's actually a wonderful thing...I'd think you'd
enjoy it and of course it pays great dividends later on.

Was he kidding? I would have taken it as a joke except that there were no emoticons or anything like that. So I replied:

In regards to Christianity ... I respect others' beliefs and accept that it
works for them. Christianity doesn't work for me, though; it goes against my
ideals and temperament. Growing up in the Bible belt left a very bad taste in my
mouth, having experienced scorn and derision of classmates because I didn't
conform to how they thought I "should" be. In my experience, religion
contributes to judgment against others. Additionally, I dislike the patriarchal
aspects touted by religions. I've felt that I've had to struggle against
society's perceptions of what roles I should inhabit as a woman. Today, I feel
I've reached a certain peace within myself and with my place in the Universe. I
understand that there's a higher power and I work to communicate with and become
a part of it. I work to be the best person I can be, endeavoring to overcome my
pettier traits, and though I sometimes stumble, I know that I'm a good person.
That satisfies my needs more than the visible, conventional trappings of
worship.

GodDAMN, it cheeses me off when people insinuate that I won't make the cut for "Heaven" because I don't believe what they do. Who the hell are they to say?

All I want is for him to fuck me. Why is that so difficult????? I can't get laid to save my life. I couldn't even get arrested.

Spoken like a truly sexually-frustrated thirty-something. Fucking sex drive and sexual functionality make their appearances when there are no means to my end.

Didn't take my meds yesterday; I'm a mess. Holy crap, so out of it. Dreams dreams and more dreams. Like Meow said once, dreams wherein I feel it's an extension of a dream I've had before, where I've known all the people for a while. Like this one, I returned a dress I'd borrowed (a floaty jade/aquamarine formal -- I'm so sure). What's funny is that I wore the dress to the lady's house, went to her restroom to change, but all I'd brought with me to change into was a doll outfit, which I actually tried to put on but it wouldn't go over my big toe. I'm cracking up now but the dream was totally serious. Heavens to Betsy.

I just wanna stay at home and play dollies, but the AC is out and I still haven't reported it because of my mess. Gotta get with it, though, because purty soon there won't be any cool breezes whatsoever. I cleaned the living room but it's already a big mess again. I did tackle huge hurdles which were my kitchen counter and my freezer. Still have to do the stove, floor and refrigerator. Gawd. I don't know why I turned out to be like this. It's kinda like that song, which I hate, incidentally, where the guy is whining, "I'm sorry for the way I am."

Control is a huge thing with me. I don't know if other people can comprehend what it's like to live under the vice grip of other people's whims. I haven't lived with my parents for twenty-fucking-years and it still affects me so deeply. I wish parents' influence wasn't such a big deal. It's not fair. If you're unfortunate enough to be born to parents who don't know shit, it'll take you the rest of your life to break free of those irons. Anyway, as I was telling Mike the other day, I remember being four or five and having my mother rag on me about my messy room. It continued until I left home. She told me I'm a lazy, shiftless, good-for-nothing; well, hell, that's what I am, then, so why bother? That must be why I can't bring myself to clean up after myself. That, or lack of self-worth or self-respect or something.

I mean, I renewed my lease here for another fourteen months so I need to make a commitment to make this place livable. Plus I need to make this place presentable enough to allow maintenance into my place to fix the A/C, and also to have Mike over so he can fuck me -- heheheheheh. If he's so inclined, that is. I'll respect his decision either way, despite my desires.

I don't understand virginity. What's the big deal? Mike falls into the category of "everything but." He's quite sexually experienced. So what's the difference if he sticks it into a vagina or not? Me, I was pleased to be rid of my virginity (although not necessarily the manner in which I lost it, but that's another story).

Saturday, June 04, 2005

Spent the afternoon with Mike yesterday. Woooo! He is so hot. This sounds like it should have begun "Dear Diary." We talked and made out and stuff. I'm so in lust it's not even funny. Dunno if he wants to do the deed with me, but I hope so ... he's quite well endowed. Yowza!!

Otherwise, I can't think straight.

Wednesday, June 01, 2005

I don't know what prompted me to do it, but I got another piercing in the cartilege of my left ear. That makes a total of seven ear piercings. Like I really needed another hole in my head, hah. :-) I like it though.

Roger wrote back and expressed sympathy for my and my brother's upbringing. Of course he couldn't know the whole story, but I was foolish to think that he was clueless about everything.

Wanting to share some piccies. Dunno if this will work because the computer is wonky.

Took a doll with no part and made her a part with platinum and pink hair. Also made her lips a bubble-gum pink.

She's a bad-ass in her cammies!

Newman! Get out of the picture!

Oh, all right. It's all about you.

"Damn straight, it's all about me."

"Hey beyotch, don't you forget about me over here."

Well, I wish the kitties had let me sleep for one more hour.

Had a dream about lesbians. My new English teacher is a lesbian and she smiled very broadly at me yesterday ... lesbians seem to take to me. My ex-husband noted this as well, and he should have known because he worked with a lot of them. I guess it's because of my sexually ambiguous appearance, despite my long hair -- boyish clothing and no makeup. Plus, it's true, I wouldn't be against a lesbian relationship if the circumstance arose. But mostly I'm straight (I like the ol' penis); it's just too bad that I put forth negative vibes toward men I find attractive [oh, and there was this hottie on campus yesterday, tall, lean, longish hair, glasses--OWW! I love a handsome man with glasses]. Well anyway, back to the dream, I was at a party attended only by women, and I was the only straight one there. The guest of honor was, I think, my English teacher, and everyone was abuzz about who she'd choose to dance with. She chose me, and all the other women were irked. I was flattered and felt it would be impolite to refuse, so I danced with her.

Yeah, my photography teacher a couple of semesters ago took a shine to me I think. I admit, I'll flirt if it'll help me ingratiate myself.

I have this recurring half-memory that's been bothering me lately. My dad's a big-time porn addict. I think when I was a kid, about seven or so, he took me to meet some army acquaintance of his in regards to putting me in a movie. This guy, who must have been some scumbag, turned to me and I looked up at him, smiling innocently and without guile, holding my father's hand. The guy looked at my father and shook his head, and in his eyes there was shock, disgust, and a bit of fear, like, "What kind of sick motherfucker are you?" I don't know why this memory is coming back to me. I've certainly got enough ammunition.

I think I might try for some more zz's.

Dusty Newspaper Clippings and other mental disorder