Tuesday, December 1, 1998

Last night I went to Melissa's and stayed the night. I think being a single mom is the most giving job. She works and takes care of her baby and that's her life. It makes me sad, but I know she loves Colin more then anything in the world, and I always love being with him, but it's so fucking hard.

It makes me sad because I know that my mother gave up her life for us, and I hated having to be reminded of that responsibility. There has to be some kind of compromise so she can do both.

I also did 2 pages of one of my papers. I hope to have one paper done by Friday.

We really live in a sick world. Some asshole injected his son with HIV so he could get out of paying child support. How can you predict that you are going to be with such a nut? I mean, is there some kind of filter? Did the woman that bore his child think "He's a stable guy... he will be a good provider." Or was there some kind of clue to find out this guy was a fucking nut?

Melissa is sick. She doesn't want to ask anyone for anything ever. I think that is one of the stupidest residual effects of this culture. I do the same damn thing myself and am always surprised when people actually give a fuck.

She wouldn't come out and ask me to help her, so I asked her and she still wouldn't say yes so I said "I will be there, dammit." I told her that no matter what I am doing, having the time of my life, getting fucked real hard, whatever, she could call me and I would come help her.

It's just impossible to do this shit on your own. I don't care who you are.

However... I find that when I am under a great deal of stress, I perform my tasks with greater efficiency.

My fucking mother, she was fucking Super Woman. She was doing Chemo and teaching at the same time. She would go in for treatments, barf in between classes and go back and teach another class. When I think of the time I went to class with her when she was sick and I realized what the fuck was going on with her body... I mean, how can you compete?

She would fall asleep as soon as she got home, but still, she went to work. My fucking mother was the best. She could find a solution to any problem, she always gave great advice, and she tried to be accepting of just about everything.

Everything but my nose ring. She shit a brick when I pierced my nose, before it was oh so cool to do it, over 10 years ago. She told me that if I didn't take it out then she would kick me out. She threatened to kick me out over a fucking hole in my nose, but at the same time, she didn't threaten to kick my brother out for almost breaking my sister's arm. Do you see the logic? (If you do, don't explain it to me).

Melissa and I watched Rudolph. I fucking hate it now. I used to love it, but now it sucks. The Nightmare before Christmas is so much better. I can't deal with horror movies though, and there are pieces in that movie that frighten me. I used to watch Hellraiser, the Evil Dead, Faces of Death... shit like that all the time, but now, I can't even look at blood.

I fucking held my mom in my arms as she died, and I can't watch a bunch of fake shit occur on screen. What the fuck is happening to me. Then there are these fucking commercials that make me all teary. Then thinking of Colin when all I wished was that he could hold his bottle on his own and now he's walking!

What the fuck is wrong with me? Then I get around Dale, and he has got to think I am the biggest pussy because I want him to touch me all the time or I want to sit in his lap. I tell him I am not like this, that I can't stand to be touched because I used to not like it, but now, I want to be held and shit. It makes me sick. This isn't me... I am not all girly and shit.

I mean I paint my toenails and I like to have soft skin and smell good, but I am not all stupid and goofy over anyone. OK, so maybe I am silly all the time, but not goofy.

I think I need my head examined again. Fuck, I need to have a Cat Scan anyway.

Wednesday, December 2, 1998

I am having a poor me day.

I don't get them often, and it's not like it's one that is bullshit where I can control what the fuck is going on. Some of the stress I am under is totally my fault, but other stress...

I fucking hate working for a shitaucracy. My boss told me to do up these forms, and instead of giving me an example, I found one on my own. I was proud, but yesterday he told me my code was wrong and fixed the problems in 10 seconds. It fucking took me forever to do it and it takes him 3 seconds flat.

I felt so humiliated and stupid. Then I get pissed and what's my recourse? Tell him he's an ass? Thanks for making me feel like I am a total moron? I should have yelled that "if you had shown me how to do it right in the first place, then we wouldn't have had this problem." But I didn't say a word.

Plus I found out I did stuff that had already been done and that really chaps my ass because everything is so fucking disorganized that no one knows what the fuck is going on.

I love working. I love fucking off too, but I will be dammed if I am going to keep doing this shit. Plus my fucking wrists are fucking fucked up, God dammit. I finally broke down and bought the wrist guards. I know there is another surgery looming in the background if I choose to stay in this field.

But this morning... I woke up in the most phenomenal mood. I love waking up to the sun coming in my window. I finally realized that I am extremely sensitive to the positioning of the sun. I noticed how sensitive I was to that when I was in Volgograd this summer and saw the moon in a different place, not where it should be.

Lately, I notice how the sun comes in my window off to the right, but when I first moved in, it came right in my window. It's funny to notice such subtle differences. Sometimes, I forget that the earth is actually moving like that fucking piece of shit cruise ship.

God I was in a lovely mood... I wish I could feel that way all the time. I do. I don't want to feel like shit, I have had enough shit to last the rest of my life, I want it to be extraordinary. I want to be so aware of what touches my skin, what makes my heart fill my body with emotion, but I also don't want to feel intrusions on this manner of thinking.

Dale and I were talking the other night... I want to write and write and write, but I learned that I don't like to write about other people here so much because it's about me... plus I know some people don't feel so comfortable about me saying anything about them.

Well, this is kind of innioculus... you can tell in one date how to talk to someone and what they like and what they don't if you listen. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, and you have seen my photography, so you can imagine what it's like in reality for me. There are ways of communicating that aren't as apparent as they seem.

When someone is telling you about their dislikes, they are telling you what the don't like about themselves that they see in other people. It's called projection. So, I let him run at his mouth, he talks and talks and talks and I listen and dissect what he says and put it all back together in a manner that is oh so me.

So we were talking, and I realize by the way he reacts to certain things I say or do what shit he isn't going to put up with. So we were talking and I said "You aren't going to put up with my shit, are you?"

"No."

"Then why do you expect me to put up with yours?"

It's so funny because he was surprised I could nail him on something he was doing. He likes to think he is oh so smart, and he is, but what cracks me up in retrospect is I was making faces at him the other night and I wasn't sure he was noticing, and the next day he was making fun of me like he was 10 years old and I was like "yep, that worked."

Any kind of reaction would have showed me that it worked, but when a man has to act like he's 10 years old... then they don't understand what they are feeling so they make fun of the reason they are feeling that way. That's makes me laugh that I could reduce this big 6"6' man into acting like a child. And he still thinks he's the smart one. I think I will let him keep believing it.

Thursday, December 3, 1998

I go up, I go down...

I am in love.

And right now it sucks.

I think we are both in the "I'm freaking out so stay the fuck away from me come here and be with me" stage. I admit, I have not been the most accessible person, but he told me when we first went out that he was detached and well, I can be detached just as much as the next fellow.

Funny how when you exhibit the same characteristics a person prides them self on, they don't like it. He's done it to me too, with something I didn't care for and it hurt my feelings, so, you know, maybe I wouldn't really fuck Marilyn Manson.

I am sleepy. I need to call the doctor.

Why is love such a fucked up thing? It seems like it could be much more simple. I know what I feel for him is something I have never felt for anyone else and I suppose I never thought I would find anyone that I could relate to in such a manner, although I really hoped. Why in the fuck am I freaking out so hard? It's not like I am in mortal danger, it's not like I am being abused, but I suppose it is submitting some of that control I have over myself and I am such a control freak that it makes it hard to just say "it's going to be just fine."

I MISS MY MOMMY!!!!!!

But when we are not together, and I listen to him over the phone, I start freaking out because what I hear isn't really how I feel him, but insecurities and past hauntings welling up.

He called me out for taking something out on him the other day and now he's doing the same damn thing to me because of how some other cunts hurt him, something I had nothing to do with. (and maybe they weren't all cunts, but the majority...)

I think that if people were more honest about their intentions, then life would be so much easier. I am not a satanic bitch that is going to suck the sperm out and make hybrid spawns of death and destruction... oh wait... strike that, I am human, I am female, and I just might breed.

I haven't done anything to betray his trust or trick him into anything. We have had some really nice experiences together beyond having sex, and that's always a plus. Take Saturday night... we went to Pam and Paul's and got a little loaded and went to the Bodecko concert and I got sick threw up and he took me home. I still think, however, that if there is nothing in the bedroom, then you have a good foundation for a bad relationship. Every relationship of people my age that are unhappy, it all revolves around sex.

If I ask if someone is happy, and they aren't, it's got to do with sex. I don't see why people don't get each other's sexual habits out of the way in the beginning so there won't be a surprise later on... "oh honey, by the way, can I wear your panties?"

Of coarse some women might turn their nose at such a... perversion, but I would gladly hand over my lacey things and drool because that's the kind of pervert I am.

(And I don't understand why women use sex to get what they want from a man when they can go out and get it on their own. Maybe this is why I suck at dating, because I like being serviced and I can go out and provide for myself, thank you very much.)

Which is a great lead in to the most horrifying class I ever took. I saw him yesterday, PhD Holmes, an older, grandfatherly type with a voice that is a little high. Who could tell that beyond this gentlemanly demeanor lies the understanding of the psychology of sick and twisted sex offenders. (I really should insert his photo here.)

Anyway... I took his class and before that, I could watch any horror movie, read about any sex crime, be ignorant of any stalker.

Now I only watch cheese, can't even think about rape, and I have no pre set schedule so stalking me would be virtually impossible. Yuck.

The things I learned in that class... I had no idea the lengths some people would go to get off.

I walk around campus, and there is this one place where there is lots of bird shit, so bad, it makes me gag. I fucking hate birds, I always have, but I especially hate them now because he taught me about this nurse that would go home and shoot up her bird's shit, and would get off on that. So every time I smell bird shit, I think of this dumb ass that DIED because she was so sick in her fucking head.

Then there was the couple that had a complaint called on them about their house stinking. They were an elderly couple and when the cop went in the house, there were a few dogs and cats and some other kinds of animals and to top it off, there was a horse there too. Inside the house. The shit was so thick that the officer's head touched the ceiling. They had been living there for decades and no one ever thought... "oh, I am living in shit... I think I will clean it up." No, this couple got off on it.

Then there was the traveling salesman that was into giving himself enemas... but with booze. He gave himself a wine enema and decided to take a bath. Well, you blood vessels absorb that stuff right in, no filters and this mother fucker was blown away and drown in his bath tub. And you know what? This mother fucker TAPED himself doing it. ALL SEX OFFENDERS NEED A TROPHY OF SOME KIND. So we were sitting in class watching his ultimate trophy as this sick bastard croaked. Sucks to be him, he never got to watch it.

Then we get to the photos. Now, we all know just what a visual person I am. I can say I have a damn near close photographic memory. The image I am seeing now is of this man jacking off in a store and the security camera picked it up. This mother fucker flung his cum on this mother's skirt. When he was detained by the authorities, he couldn't figure out what he had done wrong.

And one of the grossest images I have ever seen in my entire life was that of a teenage boy that so weird he was rejected by the Hira Krishners... so he went home to his childhood tree house and proceeded to engage in auto erotic affixiation. For those of you that don't know what that is, it's when a person ever so gently strangles themselves as they jack off. This mother fucker was going at it when the fucking tree house broke in half, he was tied to the ends, he came crashing through the tree house and snapped his body into a V and died instantly.

What a way to die. I can see that image as if I took the fucking photo and was there as it happened.

There are a lot of sick people out there. I am sad to say that I am a garden variety pervert, a plain old number 3. This means I do perverted things such as fuck on the first date. I figure that I owe allegiance to my cunt first and foremost and if she isn't going to be happy, then there is no way I can be happy in a relationship.

My brother in law told me that it wasn't so cool either. I don't give a fuck. Give me something else to prey on because there are so many better ways to play with someone else after that initial fuck and most people don't explore those possibilities.

Everyone says a girl is a slut if she fucks on the first date, but what about a guy. He fucked her! It was a mutual decision. For some fucked up reason, society has it that a girl is some kind of gigantic slut if she puts out on the first date. I think it's a crock of shit. It's one way to "test drive" a guy and if the gears are grinding, then all you lost was a night. I think getting to know someone before you have sex is a little over rated considering I spent 5 fucking years of my life with someone that I was sexually incompatible with.

So, does that make me a slut because I don't fall into that social bullshit some dumb ass made up? Quite frankly, I don't give a fuck.

Friday, December 4, 1998

I am so sick.

I came home last night and fell asleep. I think the girl above me is moving out, I haven't seen her in over a month and there was a lot of activity up there.

I have no clue what I am sick with, love sick?

Have you ever felt like you have known someone forever even if you just met? That's how I feel about him, but I guess it doesn't matter how I feel because today, I am just sick and achy and I have a fever and a headache.

I had some weird dreams last night. But I can't remember them now.

I think I am going to crawl in a hole until I am better.

I feel like the biggest moron. I actually thought that maybe Dale was different then other guys, I really believed that. I felt such strong feelings for him, unlike any I have ever felt for anyone else, and it scared me. We were talking on the phone the other night and he sounded like he was backing off and basically like he wanted to break up.

I hate talking to him on the phone because our conversations freak me out. When we are together, then it's so nice. I can't feel like this, going up and down. I wanted to be with him, but he is going back to Illinois to finish school and it didn't really sound like he wanted to be with me. Oh, and he found me the perfect job, in Europe. So it's like he wanted to be with me, but keep me at a distance so I wouldn't hurt him or something equally as stupid.

Well, I have been an outcast most of my life, so you know, whatever. At least now I know there are men out there that I can actually relate to now, at least he has proven that to me.

My heart hurts. I am almost relieved because I can't go through dealing with his intimacy problems because I can't guarantee that I won't be really sick and have to have brain surgery again and I can't guarantee that I won't be in an accident and I can't guarantee that I won't get cancer. The only thing I can guarantee is what I feel in my heart and offer my love.

Oh well, fuck it. I am a slut and I really just like using guys, that's what he would have me believe about myself from his e-mails. Or that's what he wants to believe about me, and that's his right. But at least I am an honest slut.

Amazing what one's mind will do to convince it that someone is wrong for them. Can't say I blame him and that I don't understand him that way because I am the same way... trying to find flaws in other people so I don't have to listen to what they have to say or I can discount them because they haven't been through as much as I have. He can't do that with me. We have equally been through a lot of shit and even though he wants to make me out to be a slut, I am sure he has slept with a lot more people then I have.

I used to be so funny about the people I slept with, so careful, then after my mom died, I was still careful, just a little more open. Then I quit believing all those social standards.

Whatever... I thought I would be horribly sad, and part of me is, but I am in a good mood too. What a freaky thing. Oh well, what a freaky life.

Saturday, December 5, 1998

I hate being sick.

I don't think I will take anyone seriously for a while. I think I get so excited about someone and so hopeful that I forget they are male.

Although I really cared for Dale, he made me feel like such a woman.

My horrorscope told me yesterday that I need to beware of motivations. That someone in my life was either trying to control me or had my best interests in mind.

So I am confused, he wanted me not to date other people, but he didn't really want a commitment. What the fuck's up with that? I am not playing that kind of game, I am sorry. I don't mind being with one man and one man only, but I am not about to make that same commitment I did to Andy without there being some kind of plan. Granted, 2 weeks isn't much time, but it's enough for me to figure out that this was not what I wanted from a relationship.

You know what cracks me up? Guys treat women like fuck toys all the time but if a man feels like he is a sex toy, he goes ballistic. And the ego thing. I don't play into that. He tried to make me feel guilty about some of my behaviors, when I know he has exhibited them himself in the past, he freely divulged them.

Partnership my ass.

So, what have I learned from my dating experiences to date: Well, if a guy claims to be nice, I don't fucking believe him. Any man that says he's a nice guy is full of shit. If a man calls his ex-wife a bitch, the mother of his children, ut-uh. I am not interested. I don't care what kind of relationship they have had, he has no right saying that kind of shit. It just makes me wonder, uh-huh, I am not about to allow him to find out what a cunt I am.

God I am really funny about this shit. I talk like a sailor, but that doesn't mean I don't think about things I say. I try to be very careful not to belittle someone else no matter how stupid they act. I just don't think it's cool. Maybe that's the Southern part of me. I can't say anything to anyone's face or if I do stand up for myself then I am impending on that person's right to make fun of me.

Nope, I have been made fun a good portion of my life, I am not going to put up with that shit anymore. I am a fucking adult now. If you can't think about what you are saying, and it's "just a joke" and there is an element of truth in every joke, then it's just a form of cruelty or control, and thanks, I'm enough of a control freak on my own.

Gotta love that bloody snot.

I am watching The Full Monty. I love it so much that I bought a copy. Why, it was just a little over a year ago when Roman and I saw it together at the movies. We had just gone to a strip bar and I was so embarrassed about girl's waving their cunts in stranger's faces that I wanted him to have some compassion for them.

He didn't like watching about the men that had to strip to earn money.

I am not some flaming feminist, but I think we should have to think about this kind of shit. And I don't care how a woman objectifies herself, that's her fucking business. Fuck I am tired.

Sunday, December 6, 1998

You know, there comes a point when people need to realize that you aren't going to change each other and that you are going to have your views and I am going to have mine, and there is no compromising.

I wish it would be so simple with relationshits, but for some reason... it all gets skewed. Maybe I think too much about the situations I go through, but I am not going to apologize for that BECAUSE the only way I have been able to survive the shit I have is by thinking everything through AND by making sick fucking jokes.

I am pissed. I have new neighbors and it's as if a fucking herd of elephants is living about me. And I thought it was bad with the last chick that lived here that was never around. The occasional time that I would hear her, it was nothing like the fuckers up there now. What really pisses me off is the cunt always rings my doorbell when she wants in, and that's going to stop. After all, why should I put my pants on... or stop fucking when I still have the other half of Kenfuckiana to do.

Yep, I was at it again, burning up the bed sheets because that's the kind of woman I am. You know, I don't really care that he tried to make me feel bad about fucking on the first date, I don't feel bad about it at all, he sure as fuck wasn't zipping up his pants. What pisses me off is that he thinks that typical societal bullshit will work on me. I do not value this society, so do you think the typical shit men use to try to control women is going to work on me?

Um, duh...

Plus by watching my mom and dad go at the ultimate manipulation game, and I learned from the best, gotta grant them that, it's just about impossible to manipulate me. Maybe I should think that people are good and honest and no one wants anything from me, and then again, maybe I should have been born yesterday. I am very naive, I will admit that, but I am very keen on the manips in my life.

Everyone does it, it just depends on how much we are willing to put up with, and I don't feel that I want to put up with that much. I think I put guys in an awkward position because I don't need to be taken care of and there is really nothing I desire that I can't get on my own, so that kind of leaves them at a disadvantage because I love having sex so I will never use that as a weapon, I can pay for myself, and I have been through a lot of shit, so I don't really don't need much emotional support.

I wish I could be more sedate, but like I have said before, I have had that survival switch turned on and it's been on so long that I can't do anything to turn it off. I am always going to be high strung and I am always going to over analyze events that happen to me. I think this is something typical of people that have been faced with their own mortality. I got a triple whammy of it though. You can see how some people succeed, and it's because they watched someone they loved die and they bust their asses to smother that feeling...

So, you push yourself hard to make that feeling subside. And sometimes, you push people you care about as well. The trouble is, they get sick of standing so they fall too. I got Anne to admit last month she pushed us away when she was sick, and she still pushes on occasion.

I am sick of putting up that kind of fight. I am not going to fight against the person I am with, I don't like arguing.

This whole thing started when he found that perfect job for me in Europe and I asked him why he would want someone he liked to go away and that's when I started to realize that he wants someone he can care about but not someone he has to maintain emotionally. And he was like "I'm not going to get a nasty e-mail tomorrow..."

I slept on it and decided that I am not going to play that fucking game. If he doesn't want to commit, fuck him. So I called it off, even though I care about him. I don't want to run away and get married or anything stupid like that, but I think I have a right to wake up in the same bed with someone I care about. Just call me stupid.

And then he has to assassinate my character so he can make me less of a person in his mind. Fine, whatever.

I hate that I bitch about guys so much. Maybe I should just bitch about myself but I am fully aware of my shortcomings.

I think the world of him, I do. And maybe that's why I bitch so much, because he is an amazing, overwhelming man that drove me crazy.

*************************************************************

I am over at my sister's house now. IT is such a fucking amazing day. I am wearing shorts in December and that never has happened before.

I came out here because I was sad earlier and Lesli told me what an amazing day it was out side and that I should come over. So when I came out here, I wanted to cry. I was so upset about mom and stuff that I went out to her grave and laid on it in the bright sun that hits my skin so warm. Lesli had said something about stopping at mom's grave recently and crying and I didn't want to come here and let Nate see me so upset, so I cried and cried so that when I got here I would be silly aunt Cathy. Only Nate wasn't here and Lesli was wiped out so I took Noah outside and swung in the hammock.

Lesli and I got to talking (there's a kentuckyism) about how people aren't aware of what they do on a conscious level and I though about it and started freaking out because I am always aware of what people are doing when they say certain things so this mean I can't operate on those conscious levels without much work, and I have enough of a time wrestling with my body and managing pain that I can't be superficial and I can't tell when people are just being superficial because I like to think everyone is functioning the same way, but that's just not the case.

So I was sitting here, talking to Lesli and I thought of the most fucked up thing that has ever happened to me in my life and I will tell you what it was but you are going to be like "That's it?" And you won't get it unless you have been through it.

I was hospitalized for my headaches about January 1990. Well, they had me there running all these tests and doing freaky things to my body. I picked up strep throat in the hospital that week. Well, they told me about this one test they were going to do on my body called an angiogram. Granny had one of these and she said it was the most painful thing she had ever been through medically and back then I thought "Bullshit."

Now, I know differently.

They hooked me up to this machine and turned the screen so I could see it. I was so young, I thought it was so cool, there was really fucking something wrong with me, that it wasn't imaginary.

They ran the tube through my right hip, the absolutely most sensitive area on my body is where that scar is and it's not the size of a pin hole. They ran the tube up to my heart and I watched it beat. Big deal, I though, there's my heart. When he shot the dye in, it was euphoric, as if I had a dose of love.

Then he took the tube and went up to my brain. I was just jabbering away and I looked over at the screen and I saw my jaw moving, then they went further up and I saw myself say and I felt myself say at the same time "Oh my god, that's my jaw." I was actually seeing the inside of my head, my skull my blood vessels on the monitor right in front of my eyes.

This indeed has been the weirdest most fucked up thing that has ever happened to me because I got to see my own body actually function.

**********************************************************

So... after I went to Lesli's I went to be with Melissa. We went for a walk and talked about stuff. Then we went to Sonic and had some foot long hot dogs. I couldn't believe how big they were and I said I couldn't get that all in my mouth and she laughed and said "Not all at one time."

Well, I didn't mean it that way...

Lesli told me about how she was blowing leaves out of the garage with the leaf blower and she ran the machine over Noah and he giggled a lot and then she heard Nate about her yelling "BLOW ME MOMMY!!!"

SO, I was thinking Zack was right.

Ian, the little boy I used to babysit served us... he is now a man. He is such an amazing man. I was the kick ass babysitter that told him high school sucked and that college was where it was at. I told him that if he ever had questions about sex, he just had to ask me. I talked to him about everything, so now as a little man, he understands more of the under current about society and I am so proud of him because he knows how to adapt to those situations while still being true to himself.

I told Melissa that and she looked at Colin and said "Did you hear that, whenever you have questions about sex, you need to go see aunt Cathy because mommy isn't quite so candid." Well, she used graphic but I am changing it to candid.

So I went to the place to pick up my photos so I could mail out Christmas cards and they weren't done. I was pissed, but what can you do?

Then I came home and checked my e-mail, and called the Ovarian Scream chick and we had the best conversation about growing up and being happy and puss-ums and Derby princess powers (If you still read this Roxell, you will get a kick to know that other people have read what you said about Derby Princess Powers and get cats all over the world to smell their finger.)

She told me how Smokey said "We have a cat, but she doesn't have a name, so we call her puss-ums."

We went off about puss-ums for 20 minutes and I have not laughed that hard in a long time. She rocks.w

So, now I will go take a bath and thank God for this amazing day, because that's what it was, where everything didn't seem so important and I can make tomorrow a better one.

Monday, December 7, 1998

I am proud of myself. I paid all my bills and dropped off my camera and picked up the photo I am going to send with warm wishes of Christmas.

I got an e-mail from my professor telling me I didn't have a lot of work up and you know, I just don't even give a shit. I have been thinking that maybe I am not ready to graduate totally. Then I will have to find a job really soon and maybe I still need to be a part of the Ivory Tower.

I used to overwhelm myself on purpose, so I wouldn't have to think so much about my mom dying. Well, she's dead now and so now I just have a blase attitude about everything, and I don't like overwhelming myself so much anymore.

And I think I want to be calm. I am finally used to living by myself, and I like it. I have been so used to living with other people all my life, and I thought when I first moved in here I would never get used to sleeping and living alone, but it's nice. My mom's house was so big, and there was always one or two other people living there that were strays. You know, we used to call it "Vern's Flop house." Lots of teens that were thrown out of their house... I don't even think I can name them all.

I bought a pair of tennis shoes for myself today. I am suppose to start doing aerobics with Melissa.

I have also been having dizzy spells. I will be sitting in my chair at work or just sitting somewhere else and I feel the whole room spinning around me. I hope it's just the diet drinks I have been consuming. It started when I went over to Europe... I was suppose to have a Cat scan back in October, but my car broke down.

I called the doctor's office to reschedule that.

This is the last thing I am going to say about the situation with Dale. I lost my mom this year, I am not going to be with another man, exclusively him, unless I know it's for a time. I can't deal with losing someone I care about again, not again and not so soon after my mom died.

I realize that I am not ready for that.

Tuesday, December 8, 1998

I was at a party last night. It was warm and the pool was open. There was a band playing in what used to be Anne's sitting room. The girl had rigged a bomb up to the sewer pump so that as the band quit playing, the bomb was being melted from it's Nitro state and was warming up enough to blow.

I knew there was a bomb there, but I didn't do anything about it. Then I watched it melt and I told my sister. I think mom called the cops. Everyone scattered. We kept cleaning off the dried on shit off the bomb, hoping to keep it cool enough.

When we were children, my father had a live bullet that went into a big gun. We would play with it some times. Mom told us once that if it was hit with a hammer, it would go off. They got it in Germany.

I sat there spraying the bomb, which looked like the frame of a bicycle with cold water from a hose. It was eventually safe and I stopped and watched little trendels of steam come off of it.

What a fucked up dream.

Wednesday, December 9, 1998

I have a date tonight and a job interview on Friday.

I will not fuck the French man. I will not fuck the French man. I will not fuck the French man.

We talked on the phone for 5 hours last night, after I got home from doing aerobics with Melissa. I couldn't believe how easy it was to talk with him.

He told me when you are in your thirties, you start to consider the person you are sleeping with more then just as an easy lay. (I am thinking the older I go, the better off I will be, but that may not be the case.) That made me admire him, but we will see. Maybe he won't be attracted to me, but after talking on the phone last night as long as we did, at least it will be an interesting evening.

I am beginning to believe more and more in astrology. I think that I will stick with signs I know are going to be compatible with me in bed. I know I can't deal with Pisces, don't care for Capricorns, Leos are just too egotistical, Scorpios aren't right for me either, and Taurians... well at least they aren't possessive. (This doesn't mean I can't get along with these signs, it just means I don't want to fuck them anymore. Because I can get along with anybody, that's the nature of my sign.)

So, that narrows it down a lot. I think the best one to date has been a Virgo, but this one is a Sagittarius, a fire sign, and he's French. I also got a letter from Andrey today, so overall, I am in really good spirits. I am working at home, and I have almost got these fucking forms scripted and ready to go. I fucking hate doing CGI scripting, although I thought of doing an application for a date as a joke.

I also think I am going to draw a comic strip called "the Uncontrollable Cunt!" I drew her up the other day after thinking about what Dale had written to me. Just put her in situations that are oh so human and oh so much a part of my life.

We talked about sensuality and the lack there of in American women and men. He talked about metaphysical things and as long as he doesn't think there is going to be a spaceship coming from yonder, then I can deal with it.

So, talking to one of my friends that has a headache and can't deal with it because it has lasted for over a week, I remember that since I have to fight my body everyday for control, it makes me not want to be in a relationship where I am suppose to relinquish control over myself. I want to be in a thing where we spend time together and it's a nice thing.

The only thing that I do that can make me feel better is to fuck. When I am engaged, then all my senses are focused on the feat at hand and I don't hurt, which is the reason I like to fuck so much. Otherwise, it's back to same ol same ol pain. Well, that and my parents were nymphos, so I think that kind of filtered down a little.

So... I have been thinking of systems or bad things that have happened that make life on us all a little harder... or I should say, people that don't take on the responsibility themselves therefore they are fucking the rest of us.

So, the price of cigarettes went up so that the tobacco companies could pay off these stupid fucking lawsuits people have been filing against them. I don't smoke everyday, but God Dammit, I smoke a pack a week and I used to fucking enjoy going to Chicago with cheap ass cigarettes. Ah, I need to quit smoking anyway.

One thing I have learned is that you don't kick the system in the balls and still expect to be fucked. Guys, I mean businesses don't like that.

Well, I have to go and talk to my psychologist. I need all the help I can get. I ran to see him yesterday, but our appointment is today. My never ending soap-opera life... I wonder what is in store for me next week.

Thursday, December 10, 1998

There is just something about a European man... I think it's because they don't have the same hang-ups as American men.

We met at a bookstore and drank coffee and when it was about to close we went to Ramses. We talked about all kinds of things. What impressed me the most about him is I told him about having my photos censored and then later on in the evening I was drooling over the waiter's Mamiya camera and asked if he was in Photography at U of L, which he was and I started to explain what happened and then J M finished the story and he told it better then I did. I was amazed at how much he listened and how he interpreted what I had to say, but then again, that's something else I admire about European men that speak English, or anyone that speaks a foreign language, they have the ability to translate and put words back together in a beautiful way.

It's more of an effort for someone else to speak a foreign language so they try harder to make the meaning more clear, at least with my experience.

He's a very expressive, sensual creature and I really like that about him. We talked about relationships and how sometimes it just doesn't work out how people have to make someone into the bad guy instead of just admitting that it didn't work out. So I really admire him for his honesty. We also talked about how in this culture, many people go for people they feel they can show off and then they end up divorced because they didn't know what the other person needed or what they were like. Plus he commented on how much girls want to be married in this culture, no matter if the man isn't right for them.

I am at a stage where I am not going to hide who I am at all, and if you can't deal with it, then that's fine, just admit it and go on. If you want to stop and play, that's ok, but don't ever pretend like there will be anything more then what there is.

I also feel that I don't mind giving myself away to a certain degree and that I don't mind giving love away. Love... how would I define love? Spending time with someone, listening to what they have to say, I don't mean just listening to them but hearing the things they don't like in human behavior and a willingness to adapt to having them be a part of your life by trying not to exhibit those behaviors (while still being true to yourself), relating your own experiences to theirs and understanding how it would make you feel to be in any given situation. Just layering experiences on top of one another, intertwining them so you have a nice silk weave instead of burlap.

Supporting someone in their efforts, I think that shows how you can love someone and not making fun of them for any reason, because I think when you ride someone else about something, you are not only exhibiting you own insecurities, but you aren't making anyone feel better about themselves, and that's degrading and unnecessary. I try really hard not to make anyone feel inferior to me because even though I have been through a lot and push myself hard, I can't expect other people to live by my way of life and I don't think it's a pleasure kicking someone else unless I have been kicked. I will stand up for myself, don't think I won't. But I won't kick anyone else because you never know what kind of circumstances they are going through. Sometimes when you read this it may seem like I kick, but I know how much it hurts anybody if you are critical of them in a bad way, so I just don't do it, unless I am provoked.

Oh what a sensual creature... I could just sit and listen to him talk for hours on end, his voice is like butter and he makes me feel more sensual if that is possible.

So far so good. So was I a slut? I am not telling.

Friday, December 11, 1998

Melissa got her first ticket last night. I couldn't believe it. She got it over waiting for a light to turn and it wouldn't turn and it wouldn't turn. It was after aerobics too. We went out to eat and I told her how I missed mom, and that this grief should subside. I love her to death, God knows I do, but she hurt my feelings because she said "well, it's not like it was a car wreck or any great shock..." and I just hate it when people say that.

The kicker is I know she is saying that to knock me out of this depression and she doesn't want me to feel bad and she doesn't know what else to say.

I have this job interview today, and I know I will get hired, that's not the problem, but I am still nervous as all get out.

I have been so overwhelmed this week with thinking about mom that all the stress has just made me shut down so I can't concentrate, so I haven't been doing my work either. I did, however, change the CDs in my player (it was moms... a 24 disk changer), and I ironed, cleaned my apartment, gave the cat a bath (he hadn't had a good one for about a year) and took a hot bath like my mom did to ease my aching muscles. Now all I need is a Hershey bar and then I would be just like her.

I was never just like her, but it's so hard to stand alone.

I was always afraid to be thin... because I saw how my mom was treated by my dad, I thought that if I was thin then he would have made the moves on me, and I wasn't ready to have the responsibility that comes with being... going through what Anne has gone through with men. Plus mom was the woman who I identified with and I was afraid she would have resented me to some degree if I reminded her of her youth.

No matter what, she resented me in a way I think. She raised us to be so independent, and yet she hated us because we were so independent. I hate that I have to work through some of this shit and she isn't here for me to yell at her. I hate her for dying even more. And now I feel bad because I was emotionally ragged and I told her I wanted her to die. I wanted the hurt to end, not to feel this emptiness.

So, some women have children to combat this, some get married, some just live in limbo. I don't know what I am going to do. I know I don't have to make any life decisions now though. I think I am going to try to become more routinized. I looked forward to going to aerobics all day yesterday. There is a woman taking the class that I had Russian back when I first started.

When I was out on my date with JM, I saw 3 people I knew and that was weird for me. I imagine it was weird for him too. He told me I could never leave Louisville for this reason.

I am beginning to wonder if it's not such a bad thing living here. I mean it's cheap to live and I can jet off to wherever I want to go. Melissa discourages me from leaving mainly because she doesn't want to lose me but she will say "it's so hard to make friends..." Well, I think if I can make friends with Russians, women at that, then I am not doing so bad.

Sure a lot of people know me here, but... eh.

When I was talking to Jen the other day, she was talking about how the women she works with have basket parties and those kinds of things and she knows it's not normal, but she doesn't know how to comprehend what it's like in other places. I guess it's the same no matter where you go. So I better just do my thing and go on.

Then Mikey kept asking me if I would rather be a little fish in a big pond or a big fish in a little pond, so that's fucking with my head too.

I have been thinking about it more and more... Maybe some people just weren't meant to have traditional relationships. I mean, I would like to know there was someone home waiting for me, but I don't want this co-dependency shit anymore. I have my life, you have yours and that's wonderful.

I have tried the Betty Crocker way of life and it didn't suit me.

Which makes me laugh. I had a room-mate, Jacinta... her first name is Shirley so I have always called her Shirl. She studied Russian in St. P's for a year. She has a Finnish boyfriend. I always felt such warmth and compassion when I was with her. We had a truly unique relationship. She used to call me Betty Child because I was always making something extra yummy.

Melissa told me tonight I couldn't cook, or implied that we cook similarly. My stove here doesn't even have dust on it (like hers). I will boil water for tea or something... I make sure I use that stove as much as I can. I just can't get over that she would think I can't cook because she has never really been a part to my life in that way.

I love to cook. My dad was a gourmet cook and I value the sensuousness in food. I love textures and strong flavors and just the whole thing that goes with it. I even told Andy when he took me out the other day that I couldn't believe I cooked for us every night.

I used to clip coupons too. I still use them if I have them, but... I need to be more aware of my spending habits. I got lax a few years ago and now I just need to put my foot down. I think when I invest this last chunk of money I got so I can't touch it, it will be one way of me say "not gonna do it."

So... did the Betty Child way of life. Can't do the one where I have more then one boyfriend very well. I don't know. What I hope to do is get this internship with National Geographic and then that way I can do what I think I was born to do and that is photograph.

I think the main thing that helped me get through the first part of the year was taking pictures of Jenna, and I need that kind of buzz in order to sustain what goal I was trying to obtain with my Photography degree.

This place I have an interview with will utilize both my photography skills and my web skills, I hope, and that will rock.

So the thing about relationships now is I think it's best for me just to enjoy them for the moment. Don't get all tripped up on what could or should be but just enjoying someone else's company but not in a co-dependent way. That's the hard part.

But part of me feels like I need to nurture someone so much. I need to cook and I need to feel like I am working on some kind of life with someone. I hate feeling this way, but I imagine since that is what the collective is working on, I should be a part of it. But then again, I have never been a part of the collective. I have been outside watching them in there.

Elizabeth said something to me that took me off guard... she said that I was very un-apologetic for me, and I have thought about this long and hard and I think "why should I be apologetic? Society has made me this way, why the fuck do I owe anyone an apology for being who I am?"

You see so many shows that try to stress individuality, but when you get to the core of the matter, everyone just wants the same thing, to be loved, myself included, but then when people stand up for their rights, stand up against society, you are kicking the system in the balls and how can you get any type of enjoyment for a system with sore nuts?

This whole dichotomy kills me. It's not just our society, I know, it's all of them. It's government. It's our parents. It's everywhere and everything.

So... now that I have quit rebelling against the system... my problem is trying to figure out how to remain an individual. I have brown hair, like so many people, in order to blend in with people. People wouldn't think I was so different by looking at me, but when I start talking, and talking about the things I do, then they get freaked out. So I temper myself, so I am not so overwhelming.

What good is this doing me?

I still can't save the world... but I feel that by taking photos and writing this that somehow, I am connecting with everyone that reads it because people actually do give a fuck, they are just selective about what to fuck about.

Me... I am different. I like to share with everyone because I see so many different things that living this fucked up life has done for me and to me. I write my reactions down and sometimes I think I want to go back and delete something I have said but I can't do that because when I sit down to write in this, I know at that moment, that's how I feel, and it changes constantly.

God... how am I ever going to make it on the Jerry Springer show? I have to tap into my violent tendencies, de-evolve if you will, and that's not what I want to do...Maybe I can get my psychotic brother to go on and he can show the world what a fucking freak he is. He told his wife's family that the only reason we inherited anything was because we sued him. That he was the favorite and shit shit shit. He is such a fucking nut. I don't think he will ever get it. Poor bastard.

OK, I am exhausted and Jerry is on. My new obsession.

Oh, that's something I can work on... being obsessed. Hadley seemed to think everyone needs a healthy obsession but... I don't know...

Hello...I've waited here for you
EVERLONG...

The fucking Foo Fighters ROCK.

...when I sing along with you
if everything would ever feel this real forever
if anything it ever be this good again
the only thing I'd ever ask of you
got to promise not to stop when I say when.

She sang...

*********************************************************

So, I think I ripped this idea from somewhere else, but grief is like going through fog. It's like you can clear it up on your own in your mind. I suppose the only way to make it go away is a bright sunny day, which are days that I love. Right now, I feel like the fog is so thick that I could swim through it.

People tell me I should go on Prozac, but I am trying to avoid that. I don't think it's a solution and I don't think it helped me that much when I was younger. Who the fuck knows. I am not so much depressed, I am just grieving and there is a difference.

Ah... Freak out.

If I get the job... then I will bust my ass to finish my papers by next week...

Sunday, December 13, 1998

Melissa hurt my feelings the other night, but I know she said what she said so I won't do stupid things and hurt myself more then I have been hurt.

I am over at Andy's. I couldn't be alone last night and no matter what, he is always a source of comfort. He just held me and I asked him if we ever use to do that before. He told me I was always too busy cleaning or doing this or that so I would never calm down enough to let him hold me and cuddle.

I feel like I am so afraid of everything now, and everyone. I don't want to show that I care for someone because I don't want that affection taken away from me, so it's just easier for me to have one night stands now. But that shit is getting old.

I need someone to appreciate my certain kind of freaky-ness.

We went out to eat at a buffet with my grandparents yesterday. My grandfather and I have an argument most of the time we are together because I won't marry Andy. He seems to think that because I am at the age I am I should be married with some cock telling me what to do and I am just not into that sort of thing.

Yesterday was calm and everyone was good. We were all a little teary throughout the whole thing. Anne seems to think that I have not grieved because I was gone over the summer. I don't know where the fuck she got that idea. She seems to think that I am doing worse then I did at the beginning of the year and that's just not the case. I mean I am doing worse, but that's because it's the fucking holidays and all I can think of is mom.

I had a dream I was in a consignment shop the other day and there were 2 stuffed grovers. My mom and dad got me a grover for Christmas when I was 3 or 4 and whenever I am feeling particularly bad, I cuddle with him, although lately, I just stare at him. I think I need to love on him. Anyway, I had a dream and there were 2 grovers at this place and I can see it in my mind as I think so perfectly. Down to a T. They wanted $75 for this one and I thought that was just outrageous. Then I woke up.

I think I am just going to buy myself a couple of things and wrap them up and put up a Christmas tree, maybe. I couldn't do it last year. Actually, I have been thinking about waiting until after Christmas and buying a fake one. A white tree, to show off all my ornaments. Now that I think about it, I don't think I will put up a tree because I will be a blubbering mess. Mom got this one at a yard sale. Mom got that one doing this... This nasty thing was in my stocking last year.

So... I pretty much got the job, but it's contractual and remains so. So basically I am a free-lancer that has a contract. I don't know how to feel about this. Hopefully I will make some money, but... there is a certain security with working for corporate America.

I talked to Dale the other night. He wants to spend Christmas with me and I don't think I will let him because he just wants to spend Christmas with me and none of the other holiday. Fuck that. I don't need that shit. He tried telling me that he didn't care who you were and how strong you are, it's always difficult to make it through the holidays. Part of me would like to believe him, and the other part knows that he's right or why else would I be at Andy's right now?

I went with Nate Yesterday and saw A Bug's Life. More emphasis on what standing up for what you believe in. I was happy that some girls played an instrumental part in the equation to stop evilness instead of perpetuating it further. Nate was scared halfway through. How do you tell a kid "Eh, it's Disney, everything works out in the end and only the bad people die."?

This, as we all know, is not always the case. Take my family. My mom did some fucked up things but she wasn't nearly the monster my father has been and the worse thing that has happened to him is he had to have hemorrhoid surgery. Despite that fact, he still lives and breathes and is able to reproduce, which is a frightening thought.

I thought about going over to his place last night for a moment, and just trying to get some kind of love or compassion from him, but I know I will be unsuccessful because he can't give to me what I need which there in lies the problem I am having with men at this current time and moment. I think I seek out some of these fucking losers so I can be like "Yep, there you go, men suck." But I really don't want to believe that. Maybe I am just too idealistic and not realistic enough.

So, yesterday when we were through eating, Poppa took a napkin and wiped off my mouth, which was the most bizarre thing that has happened to me in a while because even though my mom isn't here, I realized that I am still someone's little girl that still needs her mouth wiped every once in a while. I almost started bawling right there, but I didn't and I am now.

I guess that's what my journal is going to be like until the new year is over. No, that's how it's going to read until February because then there is that year thing. I am going to be in California on the anniversary of her death. But it's going to say "Today I cried because of this... today I cried because of that..." This just fucking sucks.

So... I think I am going to buy myself a new scanner. That way I can scan my negatives and get more info on what I want displayed. Sigh... It sucks that my Santa is dead.

**************************************************

After sitting around and reading the misanthropic bitch all morning, I feel much better. There is a glimmer of hope in all this mundaneness we call life. I don't know why I feel better, maybe it's because my womb is barren or maybe it's because I don't get half the ignorant hate mail she does.

I have been doing something I don't usually do lately... I have been surfing the net. I use to surf the net all the time. The first site I ever surfed was Jenni's. I even wrote her a letter back then before she was oh so famous and got a response.

That was when the web was simple and not many people knew how to do web-pages. Now it's gotten out of hand. There are some sites I got to that just make me want to puke.

You know when you are doing web design, because no one else is doing it. When you look at other people's sites that are somewhat clean and consistent, you see there is an element there that isn't in people's sites that suck. It shows that they planned their sites.

In a way I hate that my site is so graphically intensive and takes so long to load, but what's a photographer to do? I got a new program to hopefully remedy this situation called Imageready, so I hope that will alieve any future problems.

I am sick of surfing the net. I am going to go home and scan some stuff. It looks like the rain has quit and it might actually be a bearable kind of day, even if it is a Sunday.

Oh... I don't think I have ever gone into why I fucking hate Sundays. My mom had custody of us on the weekends and every Sunday at 5 we had to return the the tyrannical, fascist, Hitleresque home of my father where we could live out our days and nights scared that one of his clients was going to murder us or scared of the bastard himself. I still freak out every Sunday unintentionally because I have been conditioned to do so. It gets easier as time wears on my soul, but there is always that anxiety around 3-6 where I suffer for no other reason. I fucking hate Sundays.

Monday, December 14, 1998

I sat up last night and played on ebay.

When Anne and I were kids, I accidently left a stuffed toy of hers at a place where we were playing, and I have gotten blamed for it ever since. So now, I am going to replace it, I hope.

I should have stopped, but the photo section was calling my name. I think if my mom were alive today she would have eat, breathed, and salivatated over ebay. That woman's passion was to go to actions. That was her main joy in life before she died. Sigh... deep breath. So I sat here, and there she was, my brand new Hasselblad. The auction was about to expire, and the person just wants $1975 for her... a $5000 dollar camera. My nipples are hard just thinking about her.

I shouldn't have done that, but it's a fucking Hasselblad, for under 2K!!! Brand new... slobber... virgin drives... slobber.... slobber... fuck the negative scanner. No... If I am able to get this camera... then that will make me even more professional... all kinds of reasons to justify the purchase, you see... another affection of my love to myself. I need to stop this madness.

That's it... by Wednesday, I am going to Bruce Block's office and investing. I can't deal with the guilt. Hasselblad... What can I name such a beautiful device used for my ultimate plans to take over the world? I am going to ponder and ponder... that makes 6 months I shouldn't get a VW. I can wait. Oh boy am I pathetic. I haven't even gotten used to my Leica. I could sleep with this Camera in between my legs for a month and forget about men for a while.

The auction thingie said it was a special deal for a digital backing... that means that it can be equipt with a digital backing in the future... slobber slobber...

"Yes, Jerry, my lover can't get my camera out from between my legs so we have never consummated the love we feel for one another. Why would I want to show you what's up my skirt... Jerry, I am not that kind of pervert!!!" Throw chair here at indigent talk show host.

*******************************************************

I decided that I do not have enough of a fantasy life. I think there in lies most of my problem. Most people, it seems, have this fantastical life where everything is... something that it's not and I just can't live my life this way. So I have decided to let my imagination run wild and just go with it.

So when I grow up... I want to be a princess... naw... when I grow up I want to be a rock star... naw... when I grow up I want to... I am no good at this.

I will just talk about the dream I had last night. I dreamt I was in Africa, and I started to take a photo, but it was like I was in the Moscow airport, so as soon as I put my backpack down, someone magically came in front of me and stole my stuff without me even realizing it. It was amazing.

Actually, the Africa part had nothing to do with that. It involved my 3rd boyfriend. I was in Africa with a group of people, I think my old photography professor, Don. We were somewhere overseas and then we were in Africa. And it was so amazingly beautiful... Such an odd dream, almost like a life I once led. But I don't know how much I believe in that kind of stuff.

So... you want to know one thing I can't stand in people? There is just one thing that bothers me more then anything and that is when a person doesn't mix their food. Andy used to do that. It scares me. I was taught to mix my food, it can enhance the flavor of potatoes. Or even give the meat a certain added umph.

I used to hate Pizza. I could never understand why the kids at school would go ape shit over that shit in elementary school. I thought it was gross, but that's because my dad never made it and mom couldn't afford it. We ate shit like lamb and steak, pizza was a foreign concept. I hated ketchup for the longest time too. I wouldn't use it on my fries and would watch in disgust as Thomas and Anne would make their fries swim in it. Yuck. However, putting ketchup on eggs is ok. Or steak sauce... I don't get that concept. If I wanted a piece of meat to intentionally taste like shit... then OK.

So after reading the misanthropic bitch's page yesterday, I was in a misanthropic kind of mood. I hated everyone and everything. Then I ate and that made life better, but it made me think, maybe it's not such a bad thing to be in touch with those ill feelings.

I am a royal cunt. My sister had this stuffed dog named Henrietta when we were kids, well, I lost it when we were playing with some kids back in Cross Keys apartments, and I have never lived it down. So I am looking through ebay and I think.. "Maybe someone has her."

Well, I luck out and there she is. So I am just happy as a clam. Then I get a notice that someone out bids me and I start freaking. I have been excited over this fucking thing for over a day now and I have been wanting to replace it if I could, because that's the kind of person I am. Well, in the most irrational decision I write to the person trying to out bid me and I am not the kindest person and I am definitely not the most sane person at this point in the holiday, but I do feel bad about being a cunt. But why should I?

What's the price of sentimentality? I am willing to pay up to $500 for this stupid fucking toy so I can watch my sister blubber like nobody's business and let her think I am the greatest thing since sliced bread. All so she can somehow recapture that essence of childhood she never had with that toy. Should I feel bad because that other chick lost hers in a fire? Fuck her, me thinks. My sister that has survived cancer and is going through a rough time with mom dying, just as I am, deserves this fucking thing more.

So, should I feel justified in getting this Hasselblad? I know if I don't get it... I will regret it for the rest of my life. 2K for a brand new Hasselblad... my fucking Leica cost 3K and it's 35 mm. I should have waited, God I hate being impatient. That means if I were to get a bug, I wouldn't get it for another 6 months. That's how much the payments are. I can deal with that.

I am not happy with my behavior. I feel like a piece of shit. I hate when someone without a face can piss me off to that level. Oh well. Shit happens and life goes on.

I have had it. I think I need to take an anti-depressant. I really didn't want to... but I don't think there is an option any longer. I don't need to be in this fog, and I don't want this event to determine how I live in the future. Fuck. FUCK FUCK FUCK.

Tuesday, December 15, 1998

Fuck taking Anti-depressants. That's one of the stupidest things to do. When you come off of them, the hurt, the pain, all the shit is still waiting there for you.

It seems a lot of the women I talk to when they hear me tell them what I am going through, they want to help me, and I appreciate that, but the only way they know how to "help" is by telling me to go on drugs. Thanks, I have been on enough drugs and will be on drugs for the rest of my life.

I didn't get the little dog I wanted to for Anne. Some cunt kept pushing the price up and I let it end. I am not going to pay hundreds of dollars for it. I wanted to... I finally called her and told her about it and she said to go up to $500 and I wasn't going to put that much of my money on the line, no sir. Besides, I was starting to go insane. I told myself originally that I would pay $100 for it and it kept going and going and going. Fuck I hate ebay now. I don't recommend it for anyone unless they have to get that compulsion out in some manner.

I also decided to nix the Hasselblad. If I want one this bad in the future, then I will get one, but for now, I think I need to figure out how to use my Leica.

You nurture ideas. Ceres, the Earth Mother asteroid, is stimulating intellectual Mercury. You can provide care and feeding for concepts. Your support ensures that certain ideas will be heard. An objective viewpoint allows you to provide reinforcement for open-minded exploration. You enjoy helping others to think more clearly. My horoscope for the day.

Andy came by last night. I don't know why but I need somehow to feel some kind of normalcy in my life and he is it. A throw back to the way things used to be. I don't think that's such a bad thing seeing as how nothing is the same any longer.

I talked with my photography professor that was my favorite last night. I need her to review some images. She asked what I am doing with my life and I told her and hear "I am glad I am not you." several times. I called her a bitch the first time, because I know she is serious. She is the greatest. She helped me come out of my shell at a time I really needed that. Of all my professors, she is my favorite only because I have known her the longest and she was supportive through the worst of my mom's illness. Elizabeth Macnabb is also someone I revere highly, almost as much but Suzanne helped me flourish as an artist and a thinker. Elizabeth helped me develop my mind...

Why am I trying to justify who I love? Why does anybody do that? I know we all like to think we are the most important person in our family or our friend's lives, that no one else matters as much as we do, but that's just not the case. I show my friends and family how much I care and it's as if they are jealous of love you give to someone else. That you shouldn't give attention to anyone else. That's one thing I liked about Andy, he just stayed with me and didn't say much and let me be independent.

However, there was also a co-dependent thing going on and I couldn't deal with that very well. I have enough of a time cleaning up after myself, let alone someone else. However, I feel when he is around, I seem to be more active and accomplish more. I asked him why he thought we broke up and he told me it was because I wanted more. I was so dead in that relationship, so not me, but at the same time, I was free. I crave the stability of a relationship, but I don't really miss... that's personal.

Well, I have spent the majority of the day in bed, looking for more jobs since the one I went in for an interview the other day was for contractual work and not be in the office from nine to five type of deal. I hope to get some steady work from that company, but I can't rely on that this moment in time.

Actually, I don't really need to worry so much about getting a job, but I don't want to lie around and become delusional like my brother. Part of me wants to climb up into the mountains and just be alone for a while, but if I spend all day at home alone, then I start to go mad and think all kinds of fucked up things. I don't see how some people can do that... cut themselves off from society, that is.

The closest I have come to doing that is going to Russia, the first time was the hardest. It was like being cut off from everything, even the collective way of thinking, and I appreciated that so much, but not at the time. I didn't have socitial approval and for the first time in my life, I felt what it was really like to think completely on my own without have validation on a daily basis. Since I was in Moscow, there was always something for me to do so I would just move around like I belonged there and you know what? People had a really hard time placing my ethnicity. They thought I was Baltic or Polish. It was really strange.

I miss that time now only because I didn't know what the hell was going on at the time. I didn't realize how resourceful I had become and how much I had to learn to depend on myself. It was the best experience I have ever had, but it was also the hardest. I wasn't accepted by other Americans, and only when I said "fuck it" did I start making friends.

You see, people are going to think whatever they have been taught to think and how to feel and whatever. The reason people want me to be on anti-depressants is because they don't know how to react to my situation, so they think by taking a pill, it will make it all better. I don't need to make it all better, I need to feel what I feel so that I know my feelings are valid and justifiable, and it will give me much more compassion in the future for other people going through the same ordeal. Of coarse, I hope they don't have a psychotic brother thrown in the mix to make it worse, but I have a feeling everyone has one somewhere.

There, I feel a lot better now, and I didn't even have to cry. Some things just suck... like right now, and if I put it in perspective, like if I think of it along the lines of my first trip to Russia, I know I am better off. You know, there was a woman I talked with once whose mother had Cancer for 40 years of her life. I would be a stark raving lunatic by then. I only had to suffer 17, and really only 10 with Chemo and shit. 40 years... I just can't imagine.

You see, if you put yourself in someone else's shoes for a while, life doesn't seem so fucking bad. I am not living on the street. I do have people that love me all over. I just don't have my mommy to appreciate me and think I am wonderful and call me a bitch when I am being one.

As Suzanne said last night, I am changing into a woman with a totally new identity, not just the one that's graduating, but one that is learning to stand totally alone. You know, when foreigners get together in Russia, the one thing that weighs on everyone's mind is "I can always go home..." I can't think that anymore because I have to make it for myself. It's just going to take some time. And I don't need to make any big decisions and I don't have to get married, ever, if I don't want to. I can just figure out who I am and be that person. :)

Wednesday, December 16, 1998

So... it seems that now is the season for me to hear from people I haven't heard from in ages. It's strange.

Dale called last night. We were having a very strained conversation because I wasn't sure I wanted to spend Christmas with him and I wasn't being my normal bubbly self. I don't want to be involved in any more relationships where I am the one giving such a chunk of myself and getting little in return, so, we talked for a while and then he started getting sappy on me, and I am a girl and I ate that shit up.

But, I am not going to be serious about ANYONE for a while. I have been there, done that, no, I am not Betty Crocker and no I don't need to get married even though this fucking piece of shit culture tries to make me feel like I need someone to be complete. Maybe I do need someone, but I sure as hell don't need them now.

However, part of me would like to believe that if I had someone I cared about it would fill this hole up just a little, and that's really a horrible reason to be with anyone. I would like to be with someone because I care about them. I am fearful to depend on anyone right now, although I Anne and I are a lot closer then we have been in years. That a thing that pisses me off about my mom still. I basically raised Anne from the time I was 8 because Dad would have his fucking white trash hos come in and they wouldn't even help us with our homework because they were brain dead.

For a man that is suppose to be as smart as my father, I can never for the life of me figure out why he chooses creatures of inferior intellect, so it must be the sex. Well, that and his mother is a dumb cunt. (I think he thought my mom was a dumb cunt too, but then he pissed her off) Gotta get those archetypes from someone. Wait... that's not fair... she is a dumb genteel cunt that got pregnant so she could marry my grandfather. She lamblasted my mother for having an abortion when that fucking slut was probably busy with anyone she could be with. I fucking hate that side of the family, except for a few choice members.

Anyway... Anne and mom never really bonded. Anne and I did. I didn't realize then that she looked up to me the way a daughter does a mother, but in retrospect... she always used to tell me how pretty I was when we were kids and just things I cherish now that I thought were stupid then. We would go to my mom's on the weekend and I think mom was always jealous of our relationship, even thought she "always wanted a sister."

When I told my mom and dad that I couldn't deal with their shit anymore and moved in with my grandparents when I was 14, Mom got in between Anne and me and we have been busting doors off the jambs and kicking each other's asses ever since. Now that mom is gone, it's a lot easier to form a stronger bond where we respect one another. I understand why mom was the way she was, she was bitter and angry with the way my father treated her and us, but mainly her and after watching her hate him so passionately for so many years, I refuse to live my life like that, and I know that some men are just full of shit and you can't believe anything they say, so now that I am reminded of that, I am going to proceed with caution on all fronts.

Melissa was bitchy last night at aerobics. I have just about had enough of her shit to last me for a while. I try not to be angry or bitter about much, in my interpersonal relationships but she... she talks bad about... So I think she was mad because the other night when I spent the night with her, Colin woke up in the middle of the night and I went in and was taking care of him and she came in and took him from me and he reached for me like he wanted me to hold him. Well, no big deal, she sucked out his nose and then was holding him again and he reached out for me again.

She is not happy about this, me thinks. And instead of talking about how it hurt her, she is being a weenie to me. I freaked out when he did that. I am sure she did too. But she is going to have to understand that yes he is her child, but I care a great deal for him too and he will do such things all his life. I know it hurts, but she has to remember he has his own mind.

Which is why I don't think I want kids. Sure I am great with them, but I don't want some teenage fuck telling me they hate me like I did to my mother. I don't want a piece of me telling me I suck. And I sure as hell don't want to be super mom like some of the women I know have become to compensate for their shitty childhood and then they end up having spoiled brats. Plus I think I couldn't stand to watch them suffer through life.

But on the flip side, I see how old women suffer that have never had children. It's a real dilemma. I have never wanted children, and I used to tell my mom that. She didn't believe me, but the older I get, the more I don't think I want them. I can't deal with being with one person a lot and I can't imagine being locked into a normal life like that. Maybe when I am 40 or in my late thirties... Why am I thinking of this shit?

Anyway... I got finished with these fucking forms I have been working on so now I am really happy. Of coarse there will be something wrong with them, but they are scripted and they are HTMLed and it's all good.

You know, I think I will stay celibate for the rest of my life. And I am going to stay closed and not open myself up to people any more. Dale was sappy on the phone, and no one has ever been sappy to me so it was nice. I really wanted to believe him, but I think he did all that to hurt my feelings now.

I wanted to believe he didn't read this because he told me he wasn't going to read it and then he came here and read it and then his mind was reeling. Just because I say some of these things... This diary is for me. ME, ME, ME. I know how to interpret it, I know what I was thinking and feeling at the time I wrote it. If you don't start from the beginning, then I don't think it's that easy to interpret. How do you expect to get into someone's mind by reading their thoughts? You sure as hell can't predict how I am going to behave or really what I think or how I feel. I try to remain objective in most situations, but sometimes, I can be emotional. You can only read how I behave and how I react. It's not me in the flesh, like an actor isn't who they play on TV. I am honest and I tell my stories the way I see them, but that is just my interpretation and it's not a predictor for how I act.

I will say this, I think that when two MATURE people come together one is not trying to finish RAISING the other because her mother is dead. I don't need a parent, I don't need to be told what to do or how to feel or what BULLSHIT CULTURAL attitudes I SHOULD believe in. You have your beliefs and I have mine and I am a GROWN WOMAN, ESPECIALLY NOW THAT MY MOM IS DEAD. I come from the south, and I don't think people always take in consideration the regional culture. GRRRR...

I hate being on this emotional roller coaster he puts me on. I would rather be alone then be told how I should live my life and be smothered with someone else's attitudes. Good God if he had met me a year ago when I just sat and listened to what bullshit the guy I was with was saying, I would have been perfect.

Proceed with caution... Well I wasn't cautious enough because I was hoping again. I am not going to fucking do that and by me realizing I was putting hope into what might be, I realize I am NOT ready for a relationship... at least not with him on any fucking level. I do not want to be co-dependent. I have just come out of that kind of relationship with my mother where I was kept feeling so insignificant because of her disease and many of my needs were not met. I was abused by my father so bad that I don't even fucking know what my needs are EXCEPT FOR FUCKING WHICH IS A BASIC, NATURAL BODILY FUNCTION that I feel should not be repressed.

Judging by his last e-mail, I am just being used by guys and that there is a vicious cycle of denial going on in my part. FUCK OFF. I was in a relationship for 5 fucking years and I still have a good relationship with Andy. That's longer then most Hollywood marriages. What am I denying? I am not suppressing my sexuality. I am not feeling my fucking headaches. Hmmm... am I trying to possibly explore what is out there without my mother shaking her fucking finger at me, why that's a possibility. Am I creating a new self-image? Why, I think I could be just doing the one night stand thing so I don't have to be attached to people because my mother's dead and I have intimacy issues.

One of the fucking reasons I am crying a lot is because I was attached to him and he just wants to pull up and leave and conveniently be emotionally and physically unavailable to me. FUCK THAT. I don't want the attachment because I am still raw.

And naturally right now I am ALL ABOUT ME because this is the first fucking time I have been able to think about the events that have transpired in my life and I don't know where to go from here and I am scared. I can admit these things to myself, I am perfectly aware of my limitations at this time in my life.

It's just a zero sum game, no winners and we are both losers because we can't relate. Thanks, I would rather feel used then abused, it's the lesser of two evils.

Thursday, December 17, 1998

So, yeah... I have a sinus infection and I woke up last night at 4 am to a couple arguing across the court. She was shrieking at the top of her lungs and I laid here and listened to it for 10 minutes and called the cops. I thought she was going to be gone before the cops showed up, but she didn't and when he came out of the car he was pointing across the street and I imagine telling them someone heard them across the way.

My neighbor's redneck boyfriend came flying up to my door last night, pissed off because his girlfriend didn't have a parking spot. He was hoping to tell me to tell my "gentleman friend" to move his car and I looked at him and in a really bitchy voice "THERE IS NO ONE HERE... SEE!" That was at midnight.

I have been processing all that shit that happened with him, and I think he was just trying to hurt me because at the end of one of his e-mails he was like "Now you know how it feels."

There is something that I have learned and that is the power of Karma. I know that people that have done shitty things to me, except for my father, somehow end up suffering in some way that I have and then all of a sudden have all this compassion for me. I won't go into great detail because I know all the little things that have happened. I just fucking believe in that shit.

I am not going to apologize for being a sexual creature. He was trying to pull that societal bullshit about how I was just being used, hello, I don't want... FUCK THIS. He's a liar, if not to me then himself and he's the one that is in denial. I thought because we have been through similar experiences that we would somehow have something in common, but he abides by society's rules and he is the type of guy that if I met him in Europe, I would have not listened to anything he said because he spent a majority of the time there wasted, and that is so not me.

Oh well, it was nice while it lasted. And he has to wonder why women steer clear... open your fucking eyes and look at how you treat us. Not fucking a woman is almost as demeaning as being a slut. You live your life the way you want and I will live mine... being the only kind of slut I want to be.

I don't need a man to validate my reason for existence. I get all the love and security I need from my friend's and family. I am not going to look to a man for that unless he has a strong character and values that I exhibit myself. There is one great kisser that I think is an amazing man... and there are other men I think the world of but they are few and far between. Let's see. Zack, Andy, I admire Keir even though he hurt my feelings, Darren,Joe, Peter, and most of all I admire my brother in law because I have watched him grow up just as he has watched me. Plus he's the greatest daddy. I love my grandfather, but there is that generational thing... There are people I am leaving out... Patrick, Roman, how could I forget Roman, Andrey is cool. Eh, sorry if I left you out.

I am most thankful for Roman, though. He is one of the most wonderful souls on the planet. OK, Fuck this, I am going to bathe so I can get out of here. Tonight is aerobics.

Friday, December 18, 1998

I feel like a piece of my soul is missing. That's what it feels like when someone you love dies. They take that part of them that was a part of you... that part that was the collective consciousness of us all. And I don't care what anybody says, once that energy is gone... you can't do anything to reclaim it. Maybe their souls go somewhere... but I can't feel it.

I woke up crying today. The first time I woke up I saw my kitty laying in the sun and I meant to get up and pet him, but I still wanted to sleep.

We were in the car. Granny, Anne, Mom, me and Thomas. We were going to a store like Big Lots or Everything's $1. I think we were crowded into Mom's little Honda Prelude. Anyway... we all went into this store because I needed some conditioner for my hair. All us girls were standing in the shampoo isle, looking at all the different shampoos that were cheap but they only had Flex conditioner. I looked, mom looked, and so did Anne and Granny, but there was only Flex.

Now we all know how powerful the sense of smell is, and that when we smell something from our past, you are instantly transported to that place in time where you smelled that smell. I opened the bottle of conditioner, and I looked at everyone and said "I am not going to buy this shit. I can't stand the way it smells and I don't like what it does to my hair." Thinking of when I use to use it when my mom was the one that was still doing mom things like buying us shampoo and conditioner... or giving it to us for Christmas. That was back when I was 16.

Granny just sighed and we all went out to the car and Anne drove while I was sitting behind her and mom was in between me and Thomas. Granny was up front. I remember Anne driving behind the stores and there were these fields of red... like from when I went to Joe's house this year and they were growing soy on the property. I looked down into the ravine and there was a cop, only there was no driver and it looked like the car was just abandoned. Anne kept driving and we ended up at Lesli's house (but not her real house) and she was trying to get pregnant.

My mom hounded all of us to have babies. Lesli was at mom's house (this is a real story, not a dream) and for some reason we were all there when she casually said to someone "I've missed my period." Mom went nuts and someone... I suppose it was Thomas, but I know it wasn't me, ran up to the store and bought an EPT test. Lesli went into the nasty bathroom downstairs that always smelled like cat pee and did the test.

She came back and we all stood around biting our nails and it came back positive. Mom was ecstatic. We all knew before Doug, her husband, knew...

So back to my dream. Lesli and I were standing in the kitchen and Lesli was talking about being pregnant. I, for some reason, was making a ceramic bowl and placing it on top of another, trying to make it fit when I realized there was a hole in the wet clay. I couldn't pinch the hole together and that is when I woke up crying. I miss my mommy so much.

I just laid here and was sobbing uncontrollably, feeling that part of my soul that is empty in my heart. I thought of my dream and how I hated Flex conditioner and mom's mannerisms... sitting in the car. And then I got so pissed off at her for dying. I hate her for dying and allowing me to feel this way because there is no other way to feel but empty. Then I got even more angry with her because she never felt this way. She was never this close to someone she loved and them just go away forever. Sure, dad left her and took us away from her, but we always came back to her.

What I don't get is how can people be so blind to their own actions. How can you not feel somewhat responsible for what you do to other people? I think it's the difference between being an adult and a child. No, it's the difference between being mature and immature.

Aerobics went well last night... kind of. I have a sinus infection and I really didn't think I had a fever, or I was ignoring it and about 10 minutes into the routine, I wanted to pass out, but I kept on going half heartedly. Melissa was in a much better mood yesterday and I was very happy for that.

I came home and just fiddled around, trying to get my Christmas cards together. I talked to an old friend of Andy's and mine, Damian, on the phone for about an hour. We haven't spoken for 4 years. He was writing me love letters when I was in Vermont and I couldn't deal with it because I was really into Andy at the time so I freaked out and quit writing. Well... now, who knows? I like talking with him. He said he was sorry about my mom, that she was his friend too.

She was everybody's friend.

I have a cat scan today at 3:30... happy happy joy joy!

Saturday, December 19, 1998

So, I sat on the table and when I laid my head down, I was placed perfectly. I closed my eyes. The woman there was kind of a bitch. There were white sheets and bright lights. I thought of the movies I have seen where when people have these kinds of tests, there are halogen lamps and the rooms are lit all pretty. I talked to Anne last night and the people in her office were concerned that I went and had a Cat Scan by myself. I laughed and said "Why would I need anyone there?"

She laughed at me and then I kind of remember, this is not the kind of event normal people are used to. For us... eh... Anne can have her bone marrow biopsies by herself and I can have my cat scans.

Actually, a cat scan is nothing. The one I hate is a MRI. They are cool... but the idea of having an undetermined weight of metal above me is slightly disturbing. It's like going into a coffin... and there is always that fear that you can't get out if something goes wrong, like if a comet came down and killed everyone else but you because you were safe in this machine.

So, I came home and listened to my messages... and found out my brother called my grandparents and read them portions from my diary. I don't care that he read it, he's a fucking psycho, it's that he called my grandparents and read it to them which has hurt me the most. They don't need to know how I feel about certain aspects of my life, just as I don't need to know about theirs.

Thank God he is such a fucking liar that they don't whole heartedly believe him... thank God he has called wolf so many times.

So I went to Andy's work party last night, and absolute wreck. I was so fucked up. I made a total ass out of myself, but that seems to be a prevailing theme in my life this year... You are a dumb ass and you are going to continually put your foot in your mouth.

What can I do and what can I say. I just don't give a fuck any longer... Please, someone shoot me.

Sunday, December 20, 1998

What I feel and how open I am on the net... I don't think it's that insane. I feel that people aren't open enough and that if we realize that being open and honest is a better way of life... there are some things I keep personal.

Monday, December 21, 1998

After giving it much thought and moving my journal from directory to directory, I decided to release what I have to think about things once again. How I feel about my mother is none of his fucking business.

FUCK YOU, LITTLE DICK

I drove up to Lexington to see my sister yesterday before she left for Ireland. We spent the day together talking about mom, what a fuck Thomas continues to be, and I met her precious Doc. He is a good looking man and I hope they are happy together.

We talked about our times together in Russia and she found a note I had written to her in Russia that day.

I went to Melissa's on Saturday. I spent most of the day ensuring Psycho could never log into my account again (which is illegal) and then Andy had to go have dinner with his parents. I wasn't in the mood to come home, so I called Melissa up and asked if I could come watch It's a Wonderful Life with her.

I never realized that the angel part is only like, 30 minutes of the movie. I always thought it was just 10 minutes into the movie. Anyways... we sat there and talked about how big Colin is getting... I am investing $1000 for him so when he is in his twenties, he will have some money to get an education. Oh, and I invested the money from what Thomas had to pay us for the house as well. I think it burns him to know that he had to do that because he tells her side of the family that he got everything and we had to sue to get what we did.

The thing about living in Louisville is that everybody knows everyone, that six degree thing is going on... and so when you tell a lie like that, it's going to get around.

Sigh... I am going out to Joe and Tracey's for dinner.

Tuesday, December 22, 1998

Tis the season to be vengeful!!!

My daughter & I had just finished a salad at "Expensive Store" Cafe in Dallas and I decided to have a small dessert. Because both of us are such cookie Lovers, we decided to try the "Two Word Expensive Store cookie." It was so excellent that I asked if they would give me the recipe and the waitress said with a small frown,
- "I'm afraid not but, you can buy the recipe."
- "Well, how much?" I asked,
- "Only two fifty, it's a great deal!" she responded.
I agreed with approval, just add it to my tab I told her. Thirty days later, I received my VISA statement from Two Word Expensive Store and it was $285.00. I looked again and I remembered I had only spent $9.95 for two salads and about $20.00 for a scarf. As I glanced at the bottom of the statement, it said, "Cookie Recipe - $250.00" That's outrageous!

I called 2 word's Accounting Dept. and told them the waitress said it was "two-fifty," which clearly does not mean "two hundred and fifty dollars" by any *POSSIBLE* interpretation of the phrase. 2 Word Expensive Department Store refused to budge. They would not refund my money, because according to them, "What the waitress told you is not our problem. You have already seen the recipe. We absolutely will not refund your money at this point."

I explained to her the criminal statutes which govern fraud in Texas. I threatened to refer them to the Better Business Bureau and the State's Attorney General for engaging in fraud. I was basically told, "Do what you want, it doesn't matter, and we're not refunding your money."

I waited, thinking of how I could get even, or even try and get any of my money back. I just said, "Okay, you folks got my $250, and now I'm going to have $250 worth of fun." I told her that I was going to see to it that every Cookie lover in the United States with an e-mail account has a $250 cookie recipe from 2 Word Expensive Department Store... for free. She replied, "I wish you wouldn't do this." I said "Well, you should have thought of that before you ripped me off", and slammed down the phone on her. So here it is!!!

Please, please, please pass it on to everyone you can possible think of. I paid $250 for this... I don't want 2 Word Expensive Department store to *ever* get another penny off of this recipe....

2 WORD EXPENSIVE DEPARTMENT STORE COOKIES (Recipe may be halved)
2 cups butter
4 cups flour
2 tsp. soda
2 cups sugar
5 cups blended oatmeal ***
24 oz. chocolate chips
2 cups brown sugar
1 tsp. salt
1 8 oz. Hershey Bar (grated)
4 eggs
2 tsp. baking powder
2 tsp. vanilla
3 cups chopped nuts (your choice)

*** Measure oatmeal and blend in a blender to a fine powder. Cream the butter and both sugars. Add eggs and vanilla, mix together with flour, oatmeal, salt, baking powder, and soda. Add chocolate chips, Hershey Bar and nuts. Roll into balls and place two inches apart on a cookie sheet.

Bake for 10 minutes at 375 degrees. Makes 112 cookies. Have fun!!!

See, I am not the only one out for revenge this season...

I told him not to push me... I hate when people do that. I don't want to be violent anymore either, I am trying really hard not to be that way, but since Psycho Pump knows how to push my buttons. I am not going that way any longer. I am not going to allow him to get to me in the traditional means so he can use his information against me. I have nothing to hide.

I would like to see someone else of lesser character put their thoughts and feelings on the web so people could assassinate them. I get that on occasion.

Anyways, I was at Joe and Tracey's last night and when it got time for me to go, I got this really funky sensation not to leave and that I would be better off spending the night there. I sat down for a while and then as another hour slipped away, I decided I should leave. I got into my car and drove down the road.

They live out in Bumfuck, so it took me an hour to get there in the rain last night. I told Joe it was snowing last night as I got into my car to leave.

So the reason I didn't want to leave earlier was because I saw sirens in my head and I knew there was something wrong. As I drove closer to the interstate, I saw this funky looking van coming down the road. I thought to myself "what a strange piece of machinery!" I got closer and it looked like a truck from the fire truck re-ject factory. I got closer and closer to the interstate and I saw about 10 of these re-ject fire trucks trying to put out the flames in this house.

I started crying instantly. I looked for a place to turn around and started screaming "WHY AM I SUCK A FREAK???" So I drove back to the house and spent the night.

That was a bad idea because it was so fucking cold last night that when I woke up this morning my door was sealed shut and we had to try and get it open. As I was driving to get to my therapy appointment, I decided that I couldn't deal with my brother cyber stalking me so I took out an EPO, or restraining order.

I have been abused by my brother for so long, and have had to deal with him the way I did, that I forgot there is a legal way to keep him away from me. He is going to have to learn that there are consequences for his actions, but he sure as hell isn't going to abuse me any longer.

You are the one that is nuts, Thomas, not me. You aren't going to put you shit off on to me anymore. There is no one to take your abuse anymore. No one loves you like your mother, so maybe you need to do it to your wife or realize you are fucked up and get the help you need, and then maybe you can earn some self respect and quit treating others with violence. We didn't hurt you, you father and mother did. I don't care if mother loved you more, either. She loved me just fine and I have evidence... her voice telling me she loves me and about 6 tapes of her talking to me on video. All you have is the house, and to be perfectly honest, I would rather have my tape and video, because you can't take those away from me.

When we were kids, and we would hurt ourselves and show my father or complain he would always say "Well, how about we cut it off?"

The thought of a missing finger or limb wasn't that appealing so you learned not to complain.

So, when I think of my dad and my brother, I think... man they hurt, only this time, I know I can cut them off and make the pain go away, or at the very least, subside.

Wednesday, December 23, 1998

I have been thinking more and more about my trip overseas, and found this photo of my friend, Leticia. I think it's a sweet photo and it shows how loving she is. I will have more photos of her up in the future. (I actually just put it on here because my brother was in love with her and I am showing him that he doesn't have what it takes to keep a woman like that.)

Leticia is dating a law student. He was so kind and nice to me. I hope they make it as a couple, because she deserves someone that can treat anybody with the same amount of kindness that she has in her heart. His name is Oscar.

She told me that Thomas really needs a friend at this point in his life, but you know what? To have a friend you have to be a friend.

I am so excited!!! Zack is going to be here tonight and we are going to exchange presents!!! I got him a Disco Barbie, I think he will like her. He told me that he wants what he bought for me too, so I know if I like his present that much, then it's a good exchange!

I am really proud of myself that I am sticking with aerobics, although yesterday I was feeling fat. It wasn't until I got home and laid down for a while and had to pee did I realize I started my period. No wonder I feel so bloated and I have all these pimples on my face.

Melissa commented on how she was PMSing as well, I just didn't realize that it was also time for me to start too. Now I feel better about craving meat lately and understand why...

Freedom is near. The emotional Moon is near. The emotional Moon is challenging active Mars and activating the realms of recreation and adventure. Waiting for the holidays is hard. You're eager to escape the mundane world and get a break from everyday duties. Hang in there! Activities that involve some physical movement will probably help you cope.

So this is my horrorscope for today. I feel it is appropriate in lieu of what is going on in my life at this point.

I am not about to let some piece of shit loser ruing my Christmas because he can't take on the responsibility of what I have to say about him in my web pages. Fuck that. You aren't worth the aggravation. Although you may be worth your very own web-page titled King Poo-Poo Head. I have a few images of you that I am going to put a big swirl of shit on top of your head, but change your face enough so that you aren't immediately recognizable. I am gonna do it, I am, I am, I am. And I am going to say why you are King Poo-Poo Head and let other people nominate whom ever they want... but no, you will not always be King Poo-Poo Head, I think that is too kind, but EMPEROR POO-POO HEAD!!!!! that's a name!

You know what I like the most about mom being gone? I don't have to pretend to be nice to you anymore. I can't stand you and I don't have to put up with your shit! I don't have to listen to your abuse, and you can abuse who ever the fuck you want to because you aren't going to abuse me any more. HA HA HA HA HA!!!! I have a life, a rich, full, meaningful life with tons of people that care about me ALL OVER THIS WORLD!

I do hate that I am enjoying telling you what a fuck you are this way... I almost feel guilty because it's not the Southern thing to do... But it's my diary and you came her on your own volition. Ha ha ha ha ha ha... Fucker.

You know, mom is dead... it's hurts like hell and putting your agony off on to me and what I say isn't going to alleviate that pain you feel any less, you are just creating problems that didn't have to be created, ensuring that you are making that shit stew as thick as you can so you won't sink to the bottom and feel the depths of your own misery.

I pity you, I really do... because life is not as complicated as you would like to make it... the world no longer revolves on your axis so if you want to break society's rules, you are going to have to learn the rules first instead of being the narcissistic fuck that you are in trying to make everyone abide by your delusional, warped view of life. Maybe you should start a cult... the Poo-Poo Cult!! Then you can get other people that are not only brain dead, but stupid and/or terminally ill to believe whatever the fuck you want. But that might mean you would have to get off your ass and have some kind of job, because that kind of organization doesn't come easy.

Yet another reason to be pissed at mom for dying... she protected me from you for the most part... but I think you forgot that she protect you from ME, mostly... ha ha ha ha ha ha....

CHRISTMAS EVE, 1998

Consequences for your actions... I am not a "responsible" adult, yet when I say anything to you it's amazing how hurt you are because I am standing up for myself in this manner. You are so childish. The only reason I am stooping to your level is to show you I can be EXCEPTIONALLY CRUEL RIGHT BACK, AND I AM NOT GOING TO CRY TO ANYBODY IN THE FAMILY WHAT A FUCK YOU ARE BECAUSE THEY ALL KNOW.

I take it you are going a little more bonkers then you ever anticipated, Psycho Pump? By the way, I never called you Toothpick Dick, it was just an expression I didn't even make up. I am glad to know it bothers you.

You are so fucking stupid... You think anyone gives a fuck what I write to you here? Everyone is secretly cheering me on, because I am hurting you as much as you have hurt all of us.

I finally get to stand up for myself here without mom standing in the way and not letting me attack you because you fucking deserve anything I can push on you. I HATE you for ruining the last couple of Thanksgivings and Christmases because you were too fucking lazy to cook and you let mom do it and when she fucked it up, you took it all out on her. I HATE you for that.

I HATE you for losing your fucking Coach glove and blaming mother for losing it. I FUCKING HATE you for abusing her with your verbal abuse and bullshit that crippled her and took away her self esteem. (In case you didn't notice Psycho Fuck, I have self esteem so you can't play those games on me EVER AGAIN, but since you have no self-esteem or confidence, you are letting what ever I write here go right into your brain and it irritates you because you can't yell at me and call me names anymore, HA!)

I HATE YOU for being a bug fucking baby and RUINING most of the CHRISTMASES for the past 10 YEARS because you were pissed Mom was giving OTHER PEOPLE attention. I hate that you were a fuck last year and wouldn't even come and try to be nice to everyone because it was MOM'S LAST CHRISTMAS.

I HATE YOU FROM THE VERY DEPTHS OF MY SOUL, AND WHEN I THINK ABOUT WHAT A FUCKING LOSER YOU ARE, IT DRIVES ME TO BECOME SOMETHING YOU COULD NEVER HOPE TO BE, successful.

I HATE you for BEATING ME UP and GETTING AWAY with it.

You aren't getting away with shit this time, stupid fuck.

IF ANYTHING I THANK YOU FOR TELLING GRANNY AND POP HOW I AM BECAUSE IT HAS BROUGHT US CLOSER, and I could never thank you enough for doing that to me because I never imagined I could find something to additionally appreciate my grandparents for. They now see me as a woman in addition to being their grand daughter, and I thank you for that because I could have never of convinced them of that otherwise.

And with you behaving in this manner, I am gratefully reminded how lucky I am NOT to have you in my life anymore, or your father for that matter. Thanks for allowing me to resurface the reasons YOU DISGUST ME.

I thought, for a half a heart beat about quitting this, but something strange happened last night. A woman in another state read what has been going on and THANKED me for doing what I am doing because she is in the same predicament I was in with her mother coddling to her brother and she can never say a thing because she doesn't want to piss her mother off.

Well, mom is dead and no one will put up with any of your shit anymore.

I wish I could tell this woman's mother what she is doing to her children by allowing this shit to happen... but fuck that. I get to torture you and that is the best cure for how I feel because when I tell you I hate you, it comes from the bottom of my heart.

I hate you for trying to manipulate us when mom first died, too bad you are too fucking stupid to have pulled that off. I hate you for everything stupid you have said or done since January, and by the way, in the opinions of my professors, your poetry sucks. Maybe if you got an education instead of acting like you fucking know it all, you might learn something, oh no, that's impossible for you are so great and wise for others to teach you anything, and you have been through so much... life is such a tragedy to be strung out on Vicodan at 28.

I bet dad looks at you when you go over there and thinks to himself "Yeah, there's an education wasted, what a fucking loser."

And then he looks at ME... I fucking speak Russian fluently, I know you could NEVER do that, and I am a photographer and I do web-pages, although he has no clue what the web is about. I had brain surgery instead of being a hypochondriac because my sister's were sick.

Oh, that's what it is... you can't stand for us to have ANY attention from ANYONE because you are so great. Well I hate to break it to you, you are a fuck.

I think I could go on and on about you, but you see, I have a life.

Zack rang the bell around 8 and I had been dreaming... I didn't sleep well the night before because I allowed myself to lay in my bed and cry all night because I missed my mommy. I made myself laugh a few times and then I got up and scanned that photo of Leticia to hurt my brother. You have no idea how good it feels to finally stick it to him. If he's going to come here... and I feel a weight slowly coming off of my chest, like it's the right thing to do for me and I shouldn't feel bad about doing this...

I think I would feel bad if something bad happened to him, but then all I have to think about is how mean he has been to me my entire life and I think it's no great loss. I am not into being manipulated anymore and those people that are like that are quickly dispatched.

So, we opened presents and we finally know the key to buying for one another... I love my gift. I am getting a kick out of giving stuff out this year. I thought it was going to be hard because I am not getting anything from my mom, but I rather enjoy giving stuff away. Too bad Psycho is such a cunt, I bought him this really cool glass pen in Venice, but I will keep it for myself.

I have the opportunity to get a temporary photographing job at a major studio here in town, and I think I am going to take it. It's with people I rather like and enjoy, and it's free lancing.

So Zack woke me from these wonderful dreams and spending time with him... I don't know when it happened, or even how, but I think we are both amazed at how close we have become. I know I am because it feels like every time we are together, we get closer, and I don't know how that is possible.

So, we went out to Wick's and ate pizza and then we went to a bar that used to be his favorite. It was kind of dead and we should have left fast but then I ran into a girl I went to high school with that has gotten the fuck out of Kanfuckme... She knew my white trash sister in law too, so I got to fill her in on all the gossip.

It was cool. So after that we came home and watched a movie... Antonia and... I forget the other woman's name. But it made me feel so awesome because I was asking Zack why in the hell is my life so different then "normal" people's. Then he asked me what was normal and he named off a half a dozen chicks I know and then I was like... OK... so comparatively, I am not so fucked up. And I am pretty normal. But these problems...

Why did I get stuck with a psychotic brother? I don't deserve this! I want a healthy, stable man that supports me to be my brother, not this fuck that is trying to get rid of my... what would I call this... my forum.

Oh well, let him try as he might. If he doesn't stop, I will join a diary web-ring and then I will get thousands of hits on my diary. I was content writing for a small audience.

Which brings me to another point. Zack and I were discussing why people put their journals on the web... Maybe it's so we can find love and acceptance on a more inner level then the superficiality of day to day living. Why do I continue to write one?

Well, for one thing, since I am a Southern woman, and you see with how violent my brother tried to silence my opinions, I am not allowed to express myself so openly, although I am a pretty open person. I do it now because I want people to realize if they are going through similar circumstances, that they aren't such freaks to feel some of the feelings they do, that it's all normal and healthy and it doesn't have to consume you. I write to entertain, myself and hopefully you. I write because it makes me feel good, and that's the most important thing, above all else.

My friend, Mikey, send me a photo of my mom... and she's wearing this ugly orange swim cap in the pool when it was being built and there's Psycho Pump,so his white belly can scare the hell out of you too. Thank God he is covering up his face.

OH!!!!!! I made you... who ever comes here, a Christmas present... It's not that great, but I wanted you, whoever you are, to know that I appreciate you coming by. Especially someone living in a different state that justified my feelings in what I feel for my brother. Thank you...

I hope you all have a Merry Christmas... After this week, I am taking a rest...

Love,

Catherine

Monday, December 28, 1998

Would a cat purr if it was by itself? I mean, without someone there to love it, do you think it would purr just to purr, or do you think it just purrs to prove that affection is what makes it purr?

I had an amazing Christmas, as I am sure we all did. Amazing that it was so sedate and typical as all Christmases should be. I sat next to Granny as she nurtured and loved on Noah. I could feel the energy from her bonding with him sitting on the floor and it made me wish that I was little so she could hold me. Her arms are too frail to hold me in that manner. I think they were once strong arms in the way that a woman holds a child, but I am not longer a child but a woman, so I can not feel the nurturing the same way she can give it to him.

I hold her inside my strong, youthful arms instead. I feel her bones beneath me... I am a huge woman. I stand close to 5'10" and just everything about me is big, except my ass and my legs. My shoulders are very broad and I have these tumors on my chest so no matter how little my waist goes, which has been going down, I still have these fucking tits that are like miniature bowling balls on my chest. It's sad that I am more jealous of my grandmother's breasts because she has nicer boobs at 75 then I do at 19+. I told her that yesterday.

There were no fights or arguments at Christmas, and I suppose that is a good thing. It's something, like all things, that is going to take some getting used to. I rather liked it that way... different, but very good. I got a tin of Godiva Chocolates from the family... my favorite...

I am reading Message in a Bottle, by Nicholas Sparks. I bought it for Dale for Christmas. I am reading through the passages and I think of him and try to imagine him the same way as the main character, but the main character has decided it is better to accept Thresea for the way she is instead of trying to finish raising her. I guess that's because she is older then he is.

Then I keep reading and it's no longer Dale that I imagine as the main character, but him. Him that I am still so in love with, even though I have never met him. Him that makes me cry for him because his mommy is probably dead now from cancer too. And him that made me feel like such a woman when I felt so bad about myself. I wish he would get his shit together and come be with me but I don't think that will ever happen, so I have just about given up on him, although now I think he was like a fairy tale invented in my own mind and not a real man after all because these kinds of men are only written about in fairy tales, are gay, or getting over someone that once hurt them.

And I know it's not me that he doesn't want to be with, it's just a bad situation and that's all there is to it. I don't know why it's so hard to accept that there are certain situations in which there is no way it's going to work out... It's easier to just let go.

It seems that all my guy friends are having relationship problems at the moment. Zack and I talked about how it sucks being around your family when there is nobody there to counterbalance the insanity (for himself)... Insanity being the fact that no one around him is willing to better themselves, they are all content with their stations in life... maybe more resigned.

I would go mad if I wasn't always trying to become a better person. It's hard to fight off hatred and prejudicism when that is what you were brought up to believe in because sometimes, when you least expect it, Whammo, you are broad sided, than what can you do? Stay where you are? I think I would rather slit my wrists then be stuck in what I was raised to believe. I can't live in all that fear and hatred, eating at my insides... I had worse headaches when I came away from a large chunk of that shit then what I do now... or so it seems.

I evolve so far and then sometimes, I am knocked back into that way of thinking, and I know it's not healthy for me. I suppose that is what is why I have decided to be a war-correspondent photographer. I think I am going to do it, just for a little while. I think Russia is sitting on a bomb anyway, so it would be nothing for me to just stay there and watch it as it ticks away.

Civil War... I am afraid that is what's going to happen.

See, with the turn of the century, everyone is going a little batty with it being the end of the world. I remember watching some made for TV mini series when I was a girl, and Catherine Crosby played a hooker that was raped and she crawled to this house and a man took her in... oh, who gives a fuck about the plot, the only thing I remember about that movie the most was that it was the turn of the century and everyone was going mad, and I remember thinking "That's what I am in for!" I couldn't have been but 10 years old. It just made me realize that people go mad every time the zeros change...

I suppose it's because we are taken to a new level, and progress has not evolved as far as we would like it to have come, so we are reminded of our failures. I suppose it's the same way on an individual basis as well.

I don't think we should ever elect a president that hasn't been overseas prior to his career ever again. I think there is something missing from the American mentality that just makes them so insular and boring. I mean, poor Jen, she fucking has to go to basket parties... I know there is so much more to life then what I have been handed, but trying to find where I fit in seems to be the most challenging conflict I can not overcome. Sigh...

It's like I am stuck, and I don't know how to get out... I know what I need to do or what I should be doing, but I am still a little tender over mom dying to go on, but like everything, I think I need to force myself to come away from this thinking... move on... Get the fuck out of Kanfuckme.

Tuesday, December 29, 1998

I watch as her hands move across the fabric. I know she is allergic to wool and her nails will be torn up when she finishes making my outfits, but not like they would if they were any other kind of wool.

She has the most beautiful fingers and nails like an eagles talon's, they are that hard and sharp. When I think of anything, I think of her nails and how soft her fingers are to me. Her knuckles are enlarged, so it's difficult for her to get her rings on and off, she mainly just wears her wedding ring.

I finished Message in a Bottle and cried and cried all night. I think I was crying for the grief I felt from my own loss. I laid in be until 4 am trying to think of a solution to the problems facing me and just what it means to grieve. I am so emotional lately, but I think it's a necessary evil.

I have thought about all the amazing days that have transpired in my life this year I know my favorite time was what I spent in Russia. The most miserable has been the last couple of days as my brother has tried to ruin the relationship I have with my grandparents. They laugh at him when they get off the phone now because he can't keep his stories straight, and they are not infirm in their minds enough to believe anything he says.

And they realize there is nothing they can do to control me because I will not bend to any kind of pressure from anyone any longer. I have become the ultimate uncontrollable cunt.

I love it!!!! I wish I knew how to animate so I could make a little cartoon but I think it's too much trouble. I already have a few skits drawn out it's not easy to do this on the computer, but I do have more options then the typical pencils.

So, I slept most of the day and woke up around 6. Kind of a restful day...

TOMORROW I GET TO SEE ANNE!!!!!!!

Pure
Photography

PHOTOS\

Dr. Block's

Nature

Cubes

Europe

Portraits

Fantasy

Dying

Kazantip

Birthday

Russia '96

Russia

London '99

Stills '98