#they are cheaper than they were 20 years ago mind you

[kaoarika]

I do not just have a problem with one of my 128 GB USBs, that, okay, that's a nice obstacle I will have to keep in mind these next days, but also... apparently the 64 GB USB I also have may have some kind of false BUT in the newer laptop? or something, because yesterday it felt like it "unplugged" itself when I was JUST opening a new Explorer window for it... and just right now I tried to delete files and there was some "error" that it didn't recognize them or smth. YET the USB was still plugged and it was recognized as such... but a second time did delete them.

I just... I feel a desire to selfcombust so badly. This is frustrating and so freaking annoying, that I barely slept since I was thinking too much about it. Like, I don't want my stuff to remain stuck in just a problematic device (and all of this because I did mistakes with the external disk)... and SUDDENLY having this kind of issues with the USB ports of the new laptop when I am making an attempt to migrate my stuff. It just sucks.

I can't even start on how I feel right now. It's dumb, I know. I understand this stuff happens, but even so. But I just started using this stupid laptop this past week and IMAGINE if the USB ports do NOT work on the short term. And I only have two of them :))) (let alone the storage bit, I TALK about using the mouse. I TALK about the Intuos, too). I know I bother ppl around with all my drama about this, because I "cannot let go" or smth (or more specifically "you should have over come all that past trauma", "it's a new laptop", "the problems you had in the past WAS because the others were preowned"), but I feel I would have been so much calm if this entire thing with the external disk didn't happen. I shouldn't be like this.

I have been thinking in the alternatives with cloud storage (but I even know G00gle Drive and MEG*A have their limits and I know they are too copyright trigger happy), but I'm not exactly too patient to do that around the day as I specifically should do it around night (low internet traffic)... but then I think in the amount of folders and files and I get incredibly overwhelmed about it.

I have so many doubts. I even try to rationalize how much I still have left, and luckily I feel like I bloated numbers because I did have duplicates/triplicates in the disk due to emergency backups and what not. It's STILL a lot, ngl, but it's less than I thought. Issue is, how to do this in a more convenient way if I'm having some heavy obstacles ahead of me ._.

And I also feel this is all my fault. I should have started to do this asap. Not two months later after the incident. I already had the laptop on my hands, I should have tested it then. And the more I think about it, the more it makes me sink. I shouldn't be like this. I really shouldn't.

I also kind of blame to how technology keeps moving on, and while I do remember stuff being simple back then but primitive as such, the fact that it feels that with great advancements done, they prefer to cheap out (especially while manufacturing) everything doesn't help. Smth smth about late capitalism.

The thing with the 128 GB USB is something that I try to look up, but it doesn't look like it has a definitive fix (and man, how I wish my currrent laptop had a legal OS... which it HAD, MIND YOU, BUT THEN IT HAD TO HAVE A DISK ERROR, I even remember the tech guy saying that "you would be lucky if this doesn't happen to you one time per year" ?!?!?), but now I fear that the 64 GB one I am using runs into the same (or a similar) problem... (the safest way to eject the former is when you turn off the computer! NOT VERY CONVENIENT, I TELL YOU).

What a pain in the butt.

[physicallyaveragementallyinsane]

quirkless au katsuki bakugo, who’s fresh out of college and meets you for the first time, hanging out with his idiot friends who didn’t introduce the two of you sooner.

(This turned out way longer than expected. Oops)

August is already right around the corner. The streets are beginning to fill up as it seems everyone’s preparing for the school season. The sun beating down on everything, illuminating the streets he’s walking down.

“Mina just texted, said everyone’s there. Wanna stop here and get something to drink before we head to her place?” Katsuki nodded and followed kirishima who was already opening the door to some local coffee shop katsuki never really remembered the name of.

Him and kirishima have spent, what seems like, the whole summer together. Not that katsuki had a choice in it. Both agreeing to rent an apartment after graduating. Kiri protesting it was the cheaper route for them both, and that he needed the company. Katsuki didn’t mind it at the time, but the more his roommate and friends dragged him around the city, the more he wished he would’ve just moved back home with his old hag.

an hour ago:

“C’mon bro, you can’t keep trying to hide in the apartment all summer.”

“I already said I’m not in the fucking mood to babysit you guys. Go without me.” katsuki retorts as he throws himself on the couch. He tried to ignore the phone calls from kaminari, sero, and mina, but it was hard to ignore kirishima when he can just show up whenever he pleases.

“It’ll be fun man! And you won’t have to babysit us. It’s just a cookout at Mina’s, nothing bad, I swear!” kirishima slams the door shut behind him pointing at katsuki who was trying his hardest to avoid the conversation, “Seriously I’m not leaving until you agree to go. I already let you get out of the last time!”

“Whatever.”

end of flashback.

After he finished being bombarded by everyone (mostly Mina who was pissed he ignored her 7 missed phone calls and 20 unanswered text messages) katsuki had settled himself in the kitchen of Mina’s lake house.

Often throughout high school, the group would find themselves spending weekends/holidays out at this place. Mina’s parents used to live in the house during the summer seasons to get away from the city, but in the groups first year of college, it was given to Mina to do whatever she pleased with.

Unlike the hustle and bustle the city, katsuki didn’t mind the quiet atmosphere out here and always enjoyed when the group would get together and hang out. Even if it did drive him absolutely insane sometimes.

The sun was already setting by the time he and kirishima arrived. Everyone inside helping mina get the food ready.

Except for you.

Katsuki hadn’t seen you before. No one said anything about someone else being here. Were you with Sero? Maybe Kaminari, but last katsuki checked him and jirou were still together?

“Y/n. She’s a friend from one of my classes last year. I tried to tell you she would be here but you decided to ignore my phone calls.” Katsuki shifted his gaze from you to Mina who was staring at him with attitude.

“why’s she sittin out there by herself? She weird or something?”

“Nah. She just probably doesn’t want to listen to everyone. She’s kind of like you in way. Gets annoyed easily. Especially by these two morons.” Mina repsponded as she smacked Denki and Sero on the hands as they were trying to sneak pieces of food she was cutting up for dinner.

Katsuki hummed in response as he looked back in your direction. He wondered if he’s ever crossed paths with you before. He must’ve at somepoint right? Not that it really mattered.

As Mina finished prepping the food, katsuki left the kitchen and found himself in the living room lost to a conversation kiri, sero and denki were having. During this time he must’ve not noticed you move in the living room until sero chirped out, “hey she’s finally not pissed at us kaminari!”

The comment making you giggle softly as you made your way to sit next to the two. “You guys make my ears want to bleed. I just needed to not hear you two talk for a bit.” Your eyes moved from them and glanced in katsuki’s direction.

His heart skipped a beat when you smiled and opened your mouth to introduce yourself to him. what the fuck-

“You’re bakugo right? Mina’s talked about you a bit. It’s nice to meet you finally.” You were beautiful. Katsuki found himself lost for words, which wasn’t particularly normal for him. All he could get out was a,

“Uh- Yeah.” Just as he was about to try and say something else, Mina shouted that the food was ready. You, denki, and sero, made your ways to the kitchen, working through the food. Katsuki stayed in his seat on the couch watching you talk and laugh at the boys and mina.

You must’ve met them all before.

How come they never said anything about you sooner?

Why does he care this much, he just met you.

“Mina introduced us to her about a month ago. Y’know, the last time you decided to not hang out with us” kirishima stared at katsuki with a half assed smile on his face.

“Why is everyone being such a prick about that. I didn’t feel like coming out here. Besides no one told me Mina was gonna bring her.” Kirishima laughed at katsuki as he stood up from the couch, looking down at the blonde,

“I don’t know man, seems to me you’re just pissed you didn’t meet her sooner.” Katsuki rolled his eyes, kicking kirishima in the shin. His eyes shifted back to you and met your gaze which was already staring at him.

Little did katsuki know, you just finished fighting with Mina about how she didn’t tell you her hot friend from college was going to be here tonight.

God, you could just kill her, and so could katsuki.

-

-

-

I did not proofread this so I apologize in advance if it is horrible. I just needed to get it out of my head. 🙏

[happyk44]

Look. I know that like. Pluto is not the god of business and that wealth is not equivalent to business but like 1) the meaning of wealth has changed over time and differs among people and I'm pretty sure now when you think of wealth and wealthy people, you think of people who own fortune 500 companies and know what stocks are, and 2) I love the concept of tired businessman Hades/Pluto who just wants to spend a quiet day with his spreadsheets and a pencil, and not have to deal with whatever nonsense is currently being drummed up by his employees

Anyway -- Nico's wealth being generational due to his grandfather (and I want to assume that politics was a family thing so likely also before him) vs Hazel's wealth being hard earned, which, at least in the current age, means business know-how and being able to file a tax report and reconcile a balance sheet sheet and understand excel (I might be slightly projecting here lol)

Hazel being almost an obsessive accountant, monitoring bills, income, every single expense and penny off the street vs Nico who knows the value of things, like antiques, stuff with history. He can do surveys of property, anything that has the potential to be passed on. He's good with valuing a will - splitting assets between family members. Or managing a trust, devising different funds for the future. I think he's probably very good at looking at the long-term. And thus pretty good at noticing when someone is scamming another person with the whole "it'll be cheaper in the long run" thing, or "it'll increase in worth over time".

And since generational wealth is mostly familial, I don't think all of it has to be specific to monetary value either. Emotional wealth, the value something carries emotionally, is also something he can sense. A cheap wedding ring passed down from generation to generation could be more valuable than a standard cut diamond bought today.

Like he could look at old vase on sale at Goodwill for $2 and know it's monetarily cheap, but emotionally it's valued in the thousands. I think it could be kind of cool for things that carry high emotional value and were a part of a family's lineage for generations, if he could touch them and see the history behind it - but that doesn't really fit in with the scope of his current powers or the general theme of the Underworld so :/

They're both good at investments as investing is kind of the core of wealth management and plays a big part in building generational wealth these days, although, I'd gather that Hazel is probably better at it.

Nico, however, is very good at being able to calculate future value of a long-term investment (at least 20+ years).

Hazel can calculate future value of any kind of investment - short term fixed deposits, long and short-term investments, property changes (she absolutely hates house flippers, especially when they change or cover all the older original work, because it cuts the value down so much more than they realize), other stuff that has slipped my mind because my brain is stalling, etc.

Hazel's your go-to for reviewing the split of assets during a divorce. She's extremely meticulous and can track down even the most hidden of accounts. She's also the one you want to talk to about getting the most out of filing your taxes. She will go through every single one of your purchases, no matter how minor, to find a loophole she can work with to shave even only a couple cents off.

(disclaimer: bermuda does not have income tax so i have no idea how filing taxes actually works, other than the two canadian tax classes i took over five years ago as part of my degree)

Hazel can also assess depreciation somewhat automatically. Someone trying to choose between types of equipment can go to her and be like "which one will depreciate in value faster if I do X with it" and she'll look and point and if you ask her why, she can sprout off some nonsense at the top of her head without thinking - like percy with sailing, or my hc about jason/thalia and their inherent diplomatic schmoozing skills.

However, unlike them, she maintains understanding of what she's said when she's exited the environment, either because the power just does that or because Hazel is an amazing busy lady. if you casually said "hey hazel, between X brand and Y brand, which will drop in value faster" she'd have to think about it because it's not really "business" related.

In that sense she's also REALLY good at noticing trends. most of it is subconscious - what brands are becoming more popular, what clothing styles are losing touch. I put this in a previous fic, but she's very receptive gemstone trends. She can tell which stones are moving up in popularity and which are going down. In my headcanon about her business with Walt, this is very useful.

Her ability to notice trends, especially from a monetary standpoint, also helps with her managing stocks, and allows her to invest in high interest but riskier equities with very minimal loss (trends aren't set in stone, you know? Sometimes things happen and everything sudsenly shifts)

Plus back to the whole wealth is conflated with succesful business these days concept, putting Hazel in charge for just a day can boost a business's ability to turn a profit. In just a few hours, she can have all major flaws analyzed.

In New Rome, if someone is opening up a shop or whatever, they'll ask Hazel to review their plans because she can immediately point out all the issues and devise a better way to go about things. A couple times she's just taken them gently by the shoulders and said in the kindest voice ever, "This is going to fail. Do not put money into this." Sometimes it's the business concept, sometimes it's the person behind the concept. They either listen or they don't and if they don't, Frank is there to listen to all her complaints about them going against her advice.

Also - as an U-turn back to the splitting assets in a divorce concept, I'm not sure about pre or post-nuptial agreements. I think pre-nuptials are pretty straightforward in a "this is what im bringing in and want to keep separate from marriage" kind of thing, which Hazel could handle easily. I know in both cases it's important to declare all assets - which again Hazel could easily handle.

Post-nuptials are probably more of Nico's thing because at that point the assets in question have become merged and become familial, and much of generational wealth is in the idea of building wealth to leave behind to your family so they may have a better opportunity to build wealth to leave behind, etc, etc. Especially since post-nuptials, I think, are typically created after children are born, and those are the people who wealth is supposed to be left behind to.

This also kind of plays with my idea that the underworld is inherently familial/communal - as a person cannot bury or perform the proper funeral rites on themselves. Plus the Cocytus is the river of lamentation (aka grief and sorrow) and I imagine some of that comes from the people left behind, crying over their lost loved ones.

Also I think the idea that children of Pluto are resistant/immune to monetary greed. Since Hades was never technically the god of wealth, and was only conflated with him over time (to which, I would imagine some things and behaviours began to pop up, like they'd always existed and then becoming Pluto in the Roman era just solidified that conflation), his kids don't really have this innate resilience, but their dad is also rich and loves them, so their ability to fall prey to it is lower.

Oh! Oh! And Hazel can inflict plutomania on people, which is a word I discovered just now that means "the excessive desire for wealth". I don't know how this would be helpful but idk - social wealth is something I found popping up a lot so maybe if Hazel needs information on something that a person won't give, she can utilize plutomania to inflict a desire for social wealth in the person to get them to spill the information

(Social Wealth is about connection and network, having a sense of belonging and trust essentially. Someone with a lot of social wealth will have a lot of connections versus someone with no social wealth)

(oh yeah in my hasty google search to fact check my understanding of generational wealth when I started this post yesterday, I discovered there are many types of wealth. The number kind of varies from result to result, but essentially the 4 mains ones are: Financial Wealth (obvi), Social Wealth, Time Wealth, and Health Wealth (haha, it rhymes). But anyway yeah. Not sure how it could all loop into her without making her too all powerful but like. Hazel is also super cool and deserves to be godlike in consideration so 🤷‍♂️)

I love that when I started this yesterday it was a lot more clear cut and then I came back to finish it and ended on a ramble 😂 I do not have the energy to go and tidy everything up into something more coherent and uniform so this is what it be 👍

Oh, also, Hazel is amazing at gambling and poker. Nico is also good at poker but that's because he's reading people's souls to figure out their tells. Hazel is good at it because she attracts cash money and therefore always wins. That's why whenever anyone plays poker or places a bet with her, money can't be involved.

[stardustviolet]

“I was at the supermarket, picking up some little pre-mixed martinis to enjoy in the sun, when I sensed the store manager hovering behind me. “Got any ID for that?” he asked, sighing protractedly. I didn’t. “But I’m 30 years old,” I said, motioning towards my face. “See? 30.” He laughed as if I were an over-confident sixth grader trying my luck. “Yeah, I don’t think so,” he said, scooping up the cans. “Sorry, no can do.”

Right then I felt like kicking over a nearby cereal display, spilling Shreddies everywhere. Think I’m a teenager? Watch me act like one, then. But I’m 30, so…my impulse control kicked in.

People love to say “consider it a compliment!” when you get mistaken for someone a lot younger, but I don’t at this point. I graduated from college nearly 10 years ago. I’ve worked as a journalist and editor for almost as long, been in multiple relationships, and navigated intense life experiences. I own a Hetty hoover. I’ve published a book. I remember AOL! When someone says I look younger than I am, what I really hear is: None of that counts. I still don’t take you seriously. Not that people in their 20s don’t get taken seriously, but I’m a different person to who I was at 24, 25, even 26. I want that to show, externally.

I don’t think I actually look physically younger than 30. But—like other millennials—I possibly give off a younger “energy.” My arms are covered in stick ’n’ pokes from my 20s. I look at ease in a cozy hoodie and low-slung jeans. Plus, I barely scrape 5’2”. The way I speak and hold myself hasn’t changed much in the past few years. And I’m not alone in this: my friends, who are broadly the same age as me, could easily be five years younger. My fiancée is a full-time musician with bleached blonde hair and a penchant for motocross jackets. As a kid, I didn’t picture 30 looking like this. My high school teachers were 30. We definitely look different from them. We act differently from them, too.

Much has already been said about millennials’ inability to “grow up.” We’re lambasted for not owning homes or having kids soon enough (who can do either of those things unless you have a hefty two-income household and/or an inheritance?). We’re living with friends and roommates like overgrown students for a lot longer (plenty of my single friends can’t afford to live alone). And things like marriage, or toiling away in the same career, appear to have lost their shine for many. Even so, that doesn’t explain why we don’t always look like the 30-somethings of yesteryear—or why I can’t get served a pink martini in my local supermarket.

I’m not the only person to be mulling this over. TikTok is overrun with videos about why millennials don’t seem to be aging “normally” (“why don’t millennials age?” currently has around 19.4 million views on TikTok). Some have hypothesized that it’s because “tweakments” like filler and botox are cheaper and more widely available now. Others have joked that it’s because millennials “have depression, so we’re indoors all day, and we don’t let the sunlight age our skin.” Still others have wondered whether it’s due to camera phones, and the fact that we see ourselves more often than ever before, meaning we pay more attention to our looks and outfits. Or maybe we are aging normally, we just don’t think we are, so we don’t act like it.

There are likely countless reasons for this time-body-mind warp. One of my personal theories is that our image of a “real adult” is simply outdated, and fails to take more recent style and culture shifts into account. Your parents and grandparents didn’t post photo dumps, wear athleisure in the workplace, or DM their colleagues “lmao” in their 30s. But frames of reference evolve constantly, and that’s what 30-somethings are like now. You don’t just suddenly get a cropped haircut and start saying the word “trendy” as you age. We’re stuck with an image of a 30-something that is no longer relevant. I’m sure Gen X—the Britpop kids, the ravers—didn’t always resemble dads. It must have taken a moment to catch up.

Before I continue, I must add: I’m well aware that age is mostly meaningless, and that attaching labels to a person based on an arbitrary yearly marker is a disservice to their individualism. I know that most people don’t actually “feel” their age, because they just feel like themselves (same here). And I am so much more interested in a person’s mind than how old they are. But that doesn’t mean I am not intrigued and curious about how I appear to others now that I’m in my 30s. I find myself fearful of becoming a Benjamin Button-like character—like when you google a child actor and they look the same as an adult, just weird and with facial hair. Are millennials like child actors? Stuck, and frozen in time, forever?

One of the most frightening things about existing is that the world keeps spinning and time keeps hurtling onwards. Stop, you feel like protesting, I’m not ready yet, I’m not ready. But the universe does not hear you, and it doesn’t care anyway. That’s the great tragedy and gift of living. We all move forward. And one day soon, Gen Z will wake up and they will be middle-aged, and Gen Alpha will have children of their own, and their grandparents will not be wearing slacks and cardigans and taping money to Christmas cards. They’ll be wearing Juicy Couture and Post Malone Crocs and sending skull emoji reacts to their grandkids’ messages.“

[torreshalstead]

Christmas Wrapping

Summary - This year Hailey didn’t think she had the energy for any of it. Everything had been an insane mad rush and adding to that sounded dreadful. If she could write a Christmas list of her perfect gifts, it would be everything she had started this year to be completed and to build on any connections she had made in the past 12 months. One specific connection in particular fell to the forethought of her mind.

Emerald green eyes and a grin that could melt butter.

Notes - just a little Christmas oneshot based off my favourite Christmas song, Christmas Wrapping by the Waitresses. Happy Holidays and hope you enjoy! ❤️ AO3 Link

Hailey had really had a year of it, she couldn’t really pin it down to just one thing, it had all just been a busy blur. Christmas was normally her favourite holiday, a chance to spend time with friends, those she viewed more as family than just friends, eat until she couldn’t anymore and enjoy all of the twinkly lights and decorations that the city put up to celebrate the festive season.

But this year, she didn’t think she had the energy for any of it. Everything had been an insane mad rush and adding to that sounded dreadful. If she could write a Christmas list of her perfect gifts, it would be everything she had started this year to be completed and to build on any connections she had made in the past 12 months. One specific connection in particular fell to the forethought of her mind. Emerald green eyes and a grin that could melt butter.

Her best friend Vanessa had dragged her out to the slopes in January even though Hailey hated skiing with a passion. Her family had never been a skiing family for very obvious reasons and as such she had never got to learn when her fear factor didn’t exist.

Kid’s didn’t care if they fell face first into a pile of snow in front of 30 people they’d just met. If they fell into a pile of snow having landed on their arse on the beginners slopes, they just grinned and said they wanted to do it again. They didn’t care if their salopettes didn’t match their ski jacket that they had had to get off the sale rack.

But for Hailey, all of those things mattered. Even if she knew in her heart of hearts that they shouldn’t.

But still, she plastered on a grin and agreed to go out. One problem, her ski jacket that she’d managed to get for far cheaper than it should have been 5 years ago, no longer fitted. Her new job in the police force had required her to bulk up a little, and lifting weights in the district gym had given her a little more width in her shoulders. She loved it, she felt strong and knew she looked good. But it meant a lot of her previously curated wardrobe no longer fitted her. Her ski jacket was a prime example of this.

The ski shop was rammed, bodies everywhere trying to pick out outfits that would protect them from the winter chill that was still firmly lingering in the air. There were families with screaming children, groups of women in their 20’s clearly trying to select matching outfits for their Instagram worthiness, couples all loved up, and Hailey. She felt she might as well have had a blinker on top of her head flickering to say she didn’t belong here.

She managed to slide around the excited crowds to the back of the store where she knew the sale rack normally sat. Her cop salary wasn’t awful but it didn’t leave much to splurge on after all the essentials were paid. And a new ski jacket did not count as an essential under any definition of the word. Especially when she didn’t plan on using it more than a couple of times.

The selection was limited but still Hailey managed to find a dark purple jacket that was in her size, the sleeves were a little longer than she’d have liked but she could manage. Heading towards the front of the store, the crowds had gotten even thicker. The shop must be almost to capacity, the fire department would have a field day if they saw the number of bodies pressed in together.

‘Excuse me,’ she said, aware that her voice was falling on deaf ears but it meant she didn’t feel quite as rude as she squeezed through gaps that weren’t big enough for her, bumping into both people and overfilled clothing racks as she went.

‘Sorry,’ a deep smooth voice replied, strong hands coming up to grasp her shoulders as they turned on the spot, swapping places.

Hailey looked up to see the owner of the hands, emerald green eyes and a small smirk were framed by a face full of freckles, dark hair that had a slight wave topped his head. His head that was at least a foot taller than her. Maybe coming to the ski shop wasn’t such a bad idea after all, she thought to herself as the words tall, dark and handsome came to mind.

‘Who knew it was the most popular day to shop for ski gear?’ The stranger grinned down at her.

‘Tell me about it,’ Hailey chuckled. ‘It’s insane in here.’

‘I only came in for some new gloves but I’m starting to regret my decision not to just order them from Amazon,’ he chuckled.

‘But you know what they say about Amazon,’ Hailey quipped with a smirk.

‘Work of the devil, I know,’ he chuckled. ‘But it’s just so damn convenient.’

‘That’s the problem,’ Hailey agreed. ‘I wish it wasn’t so practical.’

‘Looks like you found what you came for though,’ he gestured down to the purple jacket hanging over Hailey’s arm.

‘And just about making it out alive,’ Hailey chuckled. ‘Though I can’t say I haven’t knocked a few years off.’

‘Well if I make it out alive too, fancy grabbing a drink some time?’ He asked and Hailey felt the colour rising in her cheeks. She didn’t think she could quite blame it on the busyness inside the store, it definitely had something to do with the handsome man who had just turned on the charm.

‘Yeah,’ she smiled, her eyes sparkling. ‘I’d like that.’

‘Got your phone on you? I’ll give you my number,’ he offered. ‘Name’s Jay by the way.’

‘Hailey,’ she handed over her phone and watched as he added his contact information in, biting at her bottom lip as his fingers danced across the screen.

‘Lovely to meet you Hailey,’ Jay said, passing her phone back to her. ‘I’ll see you soon then.’

‘Good luck with the gloves.’

Maybe the year wasn’t off to as bad a start as she had thought, Hailey grinned to herself as she went to pay for her jacket. When she got there, there was an extra 10 percent marked off it as well. Maybe it would be her year.

——————————————————————————

She had planned to text Jay, she really had but life had gotten in the way and she had never found the time to text him. By the time she finally found a moment and life had started to calm down a little, it was far too late to get in touch. It was March. Waiting 3 days was seen as socially acceptable before contacting a guy. Waiting 3 months was ridiculous.

So she pushed the thought of Jay and his cute smile to the back of her mind, and if he made the odd appearance in her dreams then who was to say.

Springtime was desperately trying to make itself known in the city, the snow had melted away and the buds were appearing on the trees and bushes that lined the neighbourhood where Hailey’s apartment was tucked away. She’d roomed with Vanessa for the past couple of years but had decided last year it was time to make the move to single occupancy.

Although she missed her best friend, she didn’t miss the music. She loved Vanessa with every fibre of her being, but damn if she didn’t need to have music blasting through the apartment at any given hour of the day. Sometimes peace and quiet were exactly what the doctor ordered. But Vanessa’s doctor clearly worked from a different handbook and had prescribed his patient constant music. Country, rap, pop, everything got a look in when Vanessa’s Spotify was on shuffle.

They made a point to have standing dinner dates and regularly scheduled phone calls where she would fill Hailey in on all the comings and goings of the 14th district where she was scheduled. They’d been best friends for years and just because they didn’t live together anymore didn’t mean Hailey wanted to lose the relationship they’d cultivated.

Hailey was out taking a walk, soaking in some much needed Vitamin D when this week's phone call buzzed through from her pocket. She was just about to pick up when a familiar pair of green eyes appeared just in front of her.

‘Jay?’ She said, her voice coloured with shock, the phone call suddenly forgotten.

‘So I didn’t imagine you,’ Jay smirked, his hands thrust into his jeans pockets.

‘Sorry, I mean to call, I really did,’ Hailey apologised but Jay brushed it off.

‘Life’s busy Hailey, I get it,’ he smiled and Hailey felt herself soften at the sight.

‘How about lunch?’ Hailey offered. She did want to see him again and get to know him a little better. She didn’t know what it was about the guy but she was intrigued.

‘Lunch sounds perfect,’ Jay smiled warmly. Pulling out his phone they compared their calendars.

For the next 4 weeks, neither of them had a single coordinating free lunch hour. What were the chances?

‘How about you give me your number and we can try and see if something crops up?’ Jay suggested.

‘Perfect,’ Hailey pinged over a text to him so he would have her number and they agreed to keep in touch.

——————————————————————————

They didn’t of course. Hailey had tried a couple of times but their schedules just didn’t align. Clearly someone up there had other ideas and Hailey and Jay actually getting a chance to hang out was not on the top of their list.

This was further cemented when in the middle of July, the sun high in the clear blue summer sky, her phone rang from her night stand.

Jay’s name flashed across the screen and Hailey felt a warming in her chest that had nothing to do with the sunburn she had gotten the day before.

‘Hey,’ she said, sitting up and winching slightly as the movement tugged on her tight skin. Factor 30 my arse, she thought.

‘I didn’t wake you did I?’ Jay’s voice echoed through the speaker.

‘No, I was up.’

‘Okay, I know it’s a little out of the blue but the weather is so good today, I wondered if you wanted to go to the beach today? My boat is out in the harbour so we could take her up north to one of the quieter ones if you wanted to join me.’

Never had an offer sounded more perfect. A day trip to the beach on a boat with a cute guy with the sun beating down on them, some cold beers in a cooler and her new red bikini finally getting a chance to see the day. But of course it had to happen when she was nursing the worst sunburn of her life.

She and Vanessa had spent the day on Vanessa’s roof top the day before. It wasn’t quite the beach but they had dragged a couple of foldable deck chairs up there and enjoyed a quiet day soaking up the rays. Hailey had gone with sunscreen in hand and thought she had been good about reapplying it regularly. But she had come home looking like the most lobsterish lobster to ever lobster. Seriously, her back was sporting a third degree burn. It was painful.

‘Jay, that sounds absolutely perfect,’ she sighed.

‘But…’ Jay prodded.

‘It sounds like the shittest excuse ever but I got so badly sunburnt yesterday that I can’t go out today. I can barely move,’ she groaned.

‘Oh damn girl,’ Jay sounded genuinely worried for her.

‘I’m covered in Aloe from head to toe.’

‘Sounds sexy,’ Jay chuckled.

‘If looking like a slimy tomato turns you on I guess,’ Hailey grinned.

‘Well…’

‘But seriously Jay, I would otherwise have loved to,’ she let her head drop.

‘Just not our time Hailey,’ Jay said.

‘Not our time,’ she agreed.

But how she wished it was.

——————————————————————————

Halloween was probably Hailey’s second favourite holiday and that was only because Christmas meant gingerbread and she was a sucker for gingerbread. But Halloween was special. Kids dressed up as superheroes, nurses, cowboys and astronauts all hyped up on candy. Pumpkin spice this and pumpkin spice that. How could someone not enjoy spooky season when it came around.

This Halloween she was thankful to be assigned to her day off, as much as she loved it. Working as a police officer on Halloween was a different kind of crazy.

She had planned on a quiet night in, handing out candy to those who knocked on her door but her building didn’t have many families in it so she imagined by 8 she would be curled up on the couch with Hocus Pocus playing on the TV. It was a classic.

Jay clearly had other ideas.

‘Hey stranger,’ Hailey said when she answered the phone, unable to stop the grin from spreading across her face.

They hadn’t managed to actually see each other in person yet but unlike their previous attempts, they had continued to text and the odd phone call was sprinkled in as well. They got on really well, he was funny and flirty but also caring and compassionate. The fact that they seemed unable to physically see each other was such a thorn in her side.

‘Hey you,’ Jay responded. His voice sounded a little distant like he had her on speakerphone. ‘You got plans tonight?’

‘Does handing out candy to the neighbours then eating the rest myself in front of the television count as plans?’

‘I mean yes, but how do you fancy a Halloween party tonight?’

‘Costume party?’

‘Is it a Halloween party if it isn’t?’ Jay quipped back with a chuckle.

‘What time?’

‘I can pick you up at 8?’ He offered.

‘I’ll see you at 8 then, I’ll text you my address.’

She hung up and couldn’t help the little happy dance she did in her living room. She was finally going to see him. Now to pick the perfect outfit.

Anything to do with her job was already an automatic no, sexy police officer, inmate, none of it.

Anything to do with her friends' jobs were also out. No way she could turn up to a party in a fire fighting get up without getting crap from Stella the next time she went to Molly’s and Maggie would laugh in her face if she rocked a nurse outfit.

That gave her some limited options.

She wanted to look cute. That much was a given. But there was a fine line between cute and flirty, and trying too hard and should have worn more clothes.

She just needed to find where that line was.

Settling on a classic, she tugged out a tight black dress that she knew didn’t flash her arse when she bent over but made her boobs look fantastic. A pair of red heels were also retrieved from the bottom of the closet and she pulled out her Halloween stash to find a pair of devil horns that she knew she’d bought 3 years ago.

She loved Halloween. Of course she had a box full of quick costumes.

A sexy devil was an easy option but it was a classic for a reason.

She spent longer than she normally did curling her hair and pinning it in just the right place to cover the headband that the devil horns were attached to. A swipe of her favourite red lipstick and she was good to go.

She snapped a quick picture to send to Vanessa who responded with three fire emojis and then Hailey took a seat on the couch to wait for Jay. It was already 7:50 so he should be here soon.

8pm came and went and no sign of Jay. He hadn’t texted her either to say he was running late which seemed unusual. They hadn’t met up before obviously, but he had always seemed like someone who was punctual.

8:30 and nothing. Hailey had resorted to eating some of the Three Musketeers bars that the trick or treaters hadn’t wanted. They were the best ones so there was clearly something wrong with the kids in her buildings. At least it meant more for her.

9pm and the heels had come off, kicked to the side and her trusty blanket was over her lap as she absentmindedly scrolled through her phone.

10pm and she was cross. It was one thing to be late but to not text or call to let her know was just plain rude. She had text him a couple of times but they hadn’t even been opened. Her call went straight to voicemail too.

11pm and she crawled into bed, more annoyed at herself than him. What kind of girl waits all night for a guy to show? She should have gone out anyway and enjoyed herself. What a waste of a good outfit.

She woke up the next morning to the incessant buzzing of her phone as text after text piled in from Jay.

Apology after apology.

Turns out his car wouldn’t start after he had stopped by the corner store to buy her some flowers, flower picture was attached for proof, and his phone had then died and although he had a charger in his car, because it wouldn’t start, it wouldn’t charge.

He promised to make it up to her but added on a text than he understood if he had blown it.

Hailey felt bad for him. She knew it had been unlike him not to contact her, especially after how excited he had been to finally get a chance to hang out when he had called. And he had gotten her Chrysanthemums. They were her favourite flower.

She sent him over the picture she had sent to Vanessa the previous evening with a comment about how she would forgive him but that she couldn’t promise to look like this next time.

His heart eyed emoji told her everything she needed to.

She’d find a time to see him again. At some point anyway.

——————————————————————————

It was finally Christmas and a day just to herself. Hailey couldn’t wait.

Vanessa had invited her to spend the day with her and her new boyfriend Kevin but Hailey didn’t want to intrude on their first holiday as a new couple, she had third-wheeled them enough during the early stages of their relationship, she didn’t need to continue now. The Burgess-Ruzek’s had also offered an invitation but she had politely turned it down. Makayla deserved to be spoiled by both her parents without an interloper being there. She knew her friends' invitations had come from the heart but if she was being honest, a day with just herself for company sounded like a dream right about now.

So she had bought herself the world’s smallest turkey which was already roasting in the oven, the smell of the bacon crisping on top wafting through her apartment. She’d got the lights on on her little Christmas tree, a couple of presents that her friends had given her tucked underneath and some quiet Christmas tunes playing through her speaker.

It was perfect.

She started to lay the table, Christmas dinner deserved the table rather than to be eaten on the couch which is what she normally did. But as she started to get out the condiments she realised something.

She’d forgotten the cranberries and you couldn’t have turkey without cranberries.

So she pulled on her boots and her warmest winter coat and braved the Chicago snow for a trip to the only grocery store within a 5 block radius that she knew would be open today. She searched up and down the aisles for the illusive condiment before turning a corner and walking smack into a hard chest.

‘Sorry!’ She exclaimed, jumping back but as she looked up her mouth fell open in shock. Of all the people she could run into today, of course it would be Jay.

‘Spending this one alone,’ he said with a smile and a small shrug. ‘Need a break, this years been crazy.’

Hailey said. ‘Me too, but why are you…’ she looked down at his hands and the laugh that poured out of her was laced with Christmas joy. ‘You mean you forgot cranberries too.’

After a year of dancing around each other, it only took a bit of Christmas magic to bring their tale to a very happy ending as they strolled back to Hailey’s apartment in the snow. Cranberries in her left hand and Jay’s hand tucked firmly into her right.

[lucysarah-c]

Now I wanna know Levi's love life in the Underground, how it all started, the women he went out with and his first time-

Hello love! How are you?

Are you coming from Holy ground ch. 18? haha Levi's life in the underground is something that I adore to discuss about but I do understand that my point of view from it isn't particularly popular.

With that being said, I add this warning of "underage sex, underage alcohol or drug use, dubious consent and prostitution" ALSO, this is a hella long reply. Sorry

In Holy Ground, Levi mentions that he had 2 fuck buddies in the laps of more on less 4 years before joining the scouts as exclusive partners to keep the "clap" to a minimum (STIs). And, before that, he used to have more casual sex or random hookups. Apparently, from what is mentioned some of them was an MP girl around his age that offered for patrollings. Levi own words " I’m not apologising for shit that I did when I was eighteen, nineteen probably high, drunk, both or trying to space out from the shitty life I had to carry on."

I based this headcanons on personal experience I've either heard from my time helping adults from marginal environments that couldn't go to school as kids, their parents were either drug addicts, in jail and they were basically raised on the streets. You can be old enough to protect yourself but for the sake of surviving usually belonging to groups is the only way. With that being said and thinking that Kenny probably abandoned Levi at the age of 11-13. Levi probably formed part of other's thug's gangs until he was old enough to fully stand on his own. Those environments are never healthy and usually expose extremely toxic masculinity ideas, plus I do also think that Kenny fit or had those thoughts on his own. Therefore, I think that Levi probably lost his virginity at a really young age to prove he was "a man" and not "a boy". Probably with a prostitute. Somewhere the age of 15. This was an insane practice not until long ago, to take guys to "debut" as if this wasn't an abuse. Because men always want to have sex right? I'm being sarcastic here haha just in case.

I do not think Levi thinks deeply of this, he's the consequence of the society he was raised in (period of time etc). Therefore, when he started to slowly build his reputation as someone strong and powerful, he started to receive way more attention if you know what I mean haha. Teens are curious, even Levi and (as he mentioned) he was probably consuming either alcohol or drugs because 1) his environment would tell him it's the cool thing to do and you don't want to look like a "pussy" 2) probably under some circumstances it's cheaper than food 3) life down there must be a hell for a teen and needed to space out. So during this period, that would say between 18-20 years old Levi, I think that if a girl was interested in him and he was interested too, he was like "Why not? I may die tomorrow"

Then I think he had a severe mind change when he found Isabel (in the manga of ACWNR. Isabel is found by Levi as a little kid and practically raised by him). To this rate, Levi wasn't only powerful enough to be completely on his own, not depending on other gangs, but also taking care of a kid made him extremely responsible for the things he did and the people he surrounded himself with. Someone, Isabel, depended on him. He grew extremely picky and probably decided to get clean for real. "be the man he wished he had while growing up,". This is the time of his life that I call "fuck buddies", I think Levi was old enough to understand the consequences of keeping sexual relationships with people that may not be clean and also the willying to do more of his life than plain surviving. So this is when these two women come into the picture. Of one I've not imagined much and the other yes. Both women Levi trusted that wouldn't use him to get info or hurt Isabel and that he probably enjoyed the company enough to be like "We could fuck, no feelings, just two adults enjoying adulting,". The first one, I think her name was Emma and was at least 5 years older than him. She worked at a bar and started to do business with him and they got along really well. Until one day (as it said in Holy Ground) after almost 2 years of being sex partners she said "I'm getting married and moving up, so this is the end,". I think Levi was probably really shocked because he enjoyed her company very much and didn't even know she was getting to know someone "romantically,". Not gonna lie, even if he didn't love her, he felt a bit hurt of "Oh... ok," But we know Levi, he probably just accepted and moved on.

The second girl, I don't have much planned for her. Only that she was probably around Levi's age, maybe one or two years younger and part of his own gang. They lasted for a solid year and half, once again not real romantic feelings but "sexual interest and keeping it exclusive to avoid STIs,". He cut it without much information when he was finally sure they were going to move to the surface with the scouts. She "implied" that she had an idea of what was going on, that she wanted to go with him and that she "really liked him,". Something that not only shocked Levi but also he wasn't really happy with that. He wasn't romantically interested in that way and they did have this sort of "no feelings" thing so her impling that was like "so you had been in this shit all this time WAITING for me to catch feelings??? Oh no... what a fucking mess"

So, that's it! At least in Holy Ground, YN is Levi's first romantic interest... not the first girl tho haha. My only headcanon for the second girl (if you follow holy ground ) is that she ends up hearing about Levi dating OFFICIALLY a Sheena's wall rich girl and she gets offended because well it's like "oh so a posh surface girl is worthy of your love but not me?" haha

[avoidantrecovery]

i got into a conversation with a talkative cab driver a couple of days ago and something blew my mind a bit. he talked about how he moved to this city when he was still young, about 20+ years ago and lived in a 2-room apartment that he paid approx. 250€ (incl. heat and electric). i did a double take and had to ask him again, because i knew it'd be cheaper, but not by that much! for the entire 20 yrs he lived in it, his rent was not raised once. he said he felt really bad when he had to move out a couple of yrs ago (he has kids now and it was too small obv.) because he'd have to abandon his cheap contract and move into a bigger but also significantly more expensive apartment. recently he drove someone to his old flat and out of curiosity he asked the passenger how much he was paying for his flat. it was 1200€! from 250€ to 1200€!

us young people in our 20s and 30s and hell even 40s at this point, beat ourselves up for not having enough money and struggling in many ways, but let's not forget, we're living in economic hard-mode. our elders, parents, hell people only 5-15 years older than us were living in completely different circumstances. mr cab driver spent his youth partying and living and paying 250€ a month in rent. the amount of pressure not just to succeed but just cover the basics rises significantly when we are supposed to pay 4.5-fold of what they did, with barely any changes in pay, wages, jobs, etc... the fear of making mistakes and losing the roof over your head, even though making mistakes is human, especially if you are still maturing.

i know this has nothing to do with mental health specifically, but it kinda does... it's all linked. if my rent was 250€ my blood pressure would be much lower for one. it all compounds and makes bad situations even worse!

[bratshaws]

goodness gracious 74. brb x oc

a/n: * breakdances* hell yeah my guys, hell yeah

check out the fic's playlist made by the sweet @wiipes !!

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: FLUFF GOD IM SO ASKKAJSNKAJWDN i love them

chapters:

1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/25/26/27/28/29/30/31/32/33/34/35/36/37/38/39/40/41/42/43/44

45/46/47/48/49/50/51/52/53/54/55/56/57/58/59/60/61/62/63/64

65/66/67/68/69/70/71/72/73

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!)

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @shrimping-for-all @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix

@lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2 @emilybradshaw @j-6o @louisahale @leobabbyyy @kulicny @winter-run @ktjmac @graciereads

-

Beatrice’s smile never faltered when he took them to the movies, specifically the cinema where they watched Alien the first time together. They haven’t been there since their first date almost seven months ago – seven months. They really have been together for seven months!!

She was a bit surprised to see the movies that night were the Lord of the Rings trilogy and while the movies weren't as old as the usual selection she was more than happy to see it there.

As was Bradley, who once he found out they’d be screening it that night he wasted no time in bringing Beatrice. Just the way her eyes shone brightly seeing the posters on the walls was enough for him. Plus, he’s been so busy lately they haven’t been having a lot of time to go out on date nights as often - it bothered him even if Beatrice said she didn’t mind.

Beatrice looked at the three posters next to each other while Rooster got them snacks for the night, stepping closer to her smiling form, ‘You know,I was eight years old when the first movie came out.” she murmured, “Leo and Mikey went to watch it and I remember being so upset I couldn’t go and even more seeing how excited they were when they came back…I actually never saw any of the movies in a movie theater. I was under thirteen.”

“Well, you can now.” he saw her smile widen and the way she bounced a bit on the balls of her feet with excitement, turning to look over the top of her head to the rooms where the first movie would be screened, “Come on.” he offers her his hand, the other holding all the snacks he got - yes he did get a some chocolate, he’s a grown man who has absolute control of his sweet tooth - as they make their way inside.

This time there were more people than in the Alien movies, which wasn’t surprising considering how popular LOTR still is. Some were dressed like characters, he saw at least five Gandalfs and three Frodos from where he was. Beatrice was still smiling, holding his hand tightly until they found their seats. They sat down and Rooster immediately placed the popcorn between them, alongside the snacks that were way cheaper than an actual cinema. He already liked that.

While they waited, Rooster’s hand met hers across the seat, rubbing her knuckles soothingly then bringing it up to his lips to kiss the back, smiling at her. Beatrice smiles back, squeezing his hand as they waited for the movie to begin, his girlfriend’s leg bouncing anxiously, waiting for the screen to turn on almost as if she was ready to run to the projector area and turn it on. 

The second the lights turned off, one by one, the cheers that erupted from the crowd almost deafened them, but Beatrice didn’t care. She shook his hand excitedly, “It’s happening!” she squealed in a quiet voice, “I’m going to watch LOTR in a movie theater!!!” Honestly, just seeing her happy like that was more than he could ever ask for. His enamored eyes only left her smiling face when the first scene finally rolled in. He honestly was so used to reading the books - which he still hasn’t finished, not because he didn’t want to but because he knew if he started nothing else would be able to snap him out of the iron focus - that rewatching the movie after so long was interesting.

Unlike Beatrice, who was too young to watch it, he was fifteen when the first movie was available, he ended up going with some of his school friends there but he could remember only a few scenes - very vaguely too. But he had a feeling he’d be reminded of quotes and moments just because of Beatrice.

He sneaked another look her way, seeing her lips move alongside Gandalf’s monologue in his very first appearance. Her face lights up like the fireworks in the Shire, her legs still moving excitedly while she is still seated, it was like watching a young Beatrice finally be able to live her dream of watching her favorite movies the way she always wanted to. He knew the movies were long and if she wanted they could watch all of them since they got there around afternoon.

His day at work was stressful but he didn’t want to tell her about it, especially not when she looked so happy. It was just another day where something went awry and his temper flared a bit, but it was quickly resolved. Right now he could relax and forget whatever bad it was that happened, choosing to keep his eyes and senses on Bea and her thrilled energy. 

Every time a certain scene would come up, Beatrice would either mouth her lips along or she’d lean closer to him to say how it compared to the book. Beatrice’s pure giddiness over watching one of her favorite movies was so…lovely to see. He knew that the first time they came here, their very first date seemed longer than seven months ago. He never told her but he was a bit nervous, which rarely happens when it comes to going out with someone, he really just wanted to show her he genuinely liked her and wanted to be with her.

-

Rooster entered the flower shop with his hands sweating, he still had a few minutes before he showed up at Beatrice’s house to pick her up. He had never been this nervous, maybe when he was younger, but never as an adult. He scratched the side of his neck, looking around the different floral arrangements hoping to find one that really called Beatrice’s name.

He dug his hands in his pockets, looking back at the woman on the cash register who was busy helping other customers to pay attention to him. Should he even get something already made? Something in him said to find flowers that reminded him of Beatrice and ask the lady to prepare him a bouquet. He wandered around the aisles, the smell of different flowers hitting his nose at every step, still trying to find something that could represent Bea the best.

He wracked his mind trying to think: she was really sweet, every time her cheeks turned red his heart did backflips, she was beautiful yet extremely bashful about it. She was great at volleyball and she smelled like lavender. He blinks when the word appears in his mind. Lavender! That’s a great option! It reminded him of her…but he needed something else, something more. He looked around for a few more seconds, then his eyes stopped on a tiny bucket filled with fresh daisies and he smiles.

There it was. It was perfect!

It wouldn’t be a big one and he hoped she wouldn’t mind, which he had a feeling she wouldn’t, not really. He waits until the customers from before leave, then approaches the lady on the front explaining to her what he wanted. The lady, who looked to be around her early 60’s, gave him a knowing smile but nodded, telling him to wait at the counter as she gathered the flowers.

Bradley’s stomach was flipping back and forth, somersaulting almost with nerves and excitement. How long had he tried to talk to her? A long time, and she always ran away from him, he never gave up because he really, really liked her. It wasn’t the normal kind of infatuation you’d get– well, it was a crush, he was crushing hard on her for these past months so…to him, what was about to happen tonight was very special. 

He hasn’t had a crush in ages and now at the ripe age of thirty six, here he was. He looked down at his watch just to check, easing out a breath when noticing he still had quite a bit of time before going there. Bradley smiles politely back at the lady when she returns, the bouquet being done quickly before his eyes and she asks him if it was for someone special, “Yeah,” he answers, watching her quickly wrap all those flowers inside the paper, “It’s going to be our first date and I want to make a good impression.”

“Well,I think you’ll do fine. Lavenders represent devotion and calmness, while daisies represent new beginnings.” she tilts her head up when she finishes both her sentence and the bouquet, “So I have a feeling you’ll do just fine.” He laughed softly, dropping his head sheepishly, thanking her once he grabbed the flowers and paid her. He looked down at the small floral arrangement, it really looked so much smaller in his hand, being careful to not crush the stems or crinkle the paper too much.

He sets it down on the passenger seat, almost as if the bouquet is a passenger itself, making sure it wouldn’t be squashed on the drive over to Bea’s. He sucked in a breath, easing some of his nerves and trying to focus on the road instead of how much he wanted to give her a good time tonight.

The scene yesterday broke his heart. genuinely, he’d never want to see her crying like that again and he was shocked she thought he was asking her out on a date because he was feeling bad for her. He knew she had self esteem issues even from the way she acted around him and the others, but him especially, but he didn’t think it’d be…so bad. If she asked that it meant that…it happened before and God that thought was just going to make him angry.

No, they were going to have a nice night, they were going to have fun and she’s going to enjoy herself. He parks the Bronco in front of her house, looking at the lights on the second floor where her loft was, “Okay.” he rolls his neck and shoulders, grabbing the flowers and stepping out. 

He hides his arm behind his back, wondering how he could wait for her. Standing by the door was fine, but what if he leaned over? Yeah. Yeah that was a lot better. He smiled hearing her voice froming from inside after she heard him by the door, keeping himself together when the doorknob turned and she appeared in front of him.

-

Seven whole months. 

He was extremely thankful of how their relationship developed over the time they were together, especially when it came to Beatrice being comfortable around him and comfortable around her own body. It was amazing to see the growth in both of them really, both of them were more open with their thoughts and words, they talked like any healthy couple should do and they figured things out.

God he wanted to marry her.

It took him some thinking, but he was decisive about it now. Especially after talking to Mav. Their leases would turn by the end of the month, so they should try and look for places now so they could move out. Not to mention the surprise birthday party he,Evelyn and Shells were working on.

Surprisingly how the blonde didn’t open her mouth to excitedly tell others - aka Bob - about it. So far everything was going well, so all he had to do was wait for the right time. His eyes turned to her ring finger, the same one wrapped around his hand alongside its siblings, trying to check what size she would be.

She rarely used rings besides the one in her thumb, so he wondered if she had any jewelry in her place he could take a look. He didn’t want to snoop, but he also didn’t want to tell her about it yet. He just looked at her by the corner of his eye, smiling down at her elated face and then leaning back on his seat completely, deciding that he should watch the movie now.

-

“Did I tell you what my future nephew or niece will be named?.'' They left the movie theater a few minutes before midnight - absolutely starving because popcorn does not fill anyone’s stomachs like that -, had a late dinner by the same taco truck they went before and now were walking around to help with digestion. 

Rooster smiles down at her, hugging her to his side to press a kiss to the top of her head, “No, tell me.”

“Eowyn if it’s a girl or Aragorn if it’s a boy.” she says, making Bradley chuff out a soft laugh and pull his head back from her own, “I’m serious! I mean,I don’t hate it but, imagine the things this child will go through in the future!” Beatrice sighs, “At least Bibi is okay with it now, she’s even excited to be an older sister.”

“I thought she might.” Rooster adds, “It’s just something for her to get used to you know?” Beatrice agrees with a nod, holding his hand with their fingers interlaced, “When is it going to be born?”

“According to Cyn, around October.” she says,”It’s going to be so cute. I’m kinda excited to be an aunt again.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! I like kids and I like my nephews and nieces.” he knew that he could see the way she was around them, especially Bianca. “It’s…really fun.” he noticed how her voice faltered just a bit at the end of her sentence, but she kept on smiling.

Beatrice held the words ‘but it’s weird being the only one without a child besides Michael’, she never told Brad but her mother has been…very specific ever since Leo announced the second baby. The last time she visited by herself her mother offered her tea, she was very vocal about how she should take all of it before she left. 

It took one sniff to figure out what it actually was: red clover tea, a herb that’s known to help with fertility and pregnancies. She knew that because her nonna used to have some in her garden and would always prepare some tea for her siblings and months later they’d find out they were to have kids.

While she…appreciated the thought, she wished her mother wasn’t so insistent about it. Yes, she had Bradley now but she couldn’t just…do it…without talking to him. A lot was going to happen before that, a whole lot so she gently cut her mother off and tossed the tea down the drain when her mother got busy enough.

“Michael doesn’t have kids does he?” Rooster asks when they pause their walking to watch the sea in the distance, the waves larger and louder because of the full moon, “I always saw him alone.”

“Oh, no, Michael is the ‘cool bachelor uncle’.” she air quotes with a shake of her head, “He just…well…he’s never had an actual long relationship. He also likes the single life a lot more. He prefers it, really. He’s always the one that helps the kids with stuff like…first dates, first…I don’t know, first time drinking, first time driving. He likes to be part of that.”

Michael was always the wildest of them all, thinking of him settling down…with anyone was a bit hard to imagine. Not because he couldn’t be loving, but because she didn’t think whoever his partner was would be able to handle her older brother’s caffeine induced personality most of the time. They always joked that Michael was Mambo Number 5 if the song was a person.

Which does make sense in a way.

“I think a girl tried telling him he was the father of her kid.” Beatrice explains, “I don’t know,I was really young when it happened and, you know, he was going to step up to it and be a dad but then eventually it was found out that he wasn’t the father and he got…really upset. I think he just gave up after that.”

“Honestly from what I’ve seen of Michael he doesn’t seem too bummed about it.”

Beatrice smiles softly, crossing her arms below her bust with her eyes still on the waves, “Oh he’s not, I think he’s gotten used to it now. He even told my parents to not expect grandchildren from him.” she laughs gently, but her cheeks redden at what the words suddenly implicated and hoped that Rooster wouldn’t get it.

But he just takes in the information in silence, if he noticed something within it he doesn’t say it, instead he looks down at her with a smile, “At least they have everyone else instead huh?” he says and Beatrice nods, facing the ocean alongside him. Beatrice then sighs, tucking strands of her behind her ears as she feels the wind pick up around them.

He took that as his cue for them to go back to the car before it got worse, placing his hand on the small of her back and shielding her from the harsher gusts of wind until they got back inside the Bronco.

-

Rooster spent the night over, since he didn’t think it’d be wise for him to just go all the way back to his apartment just to sleep when he could enjoy the lovely company of no one other but his girlfriend. Plus some of his things were already there, so why not? He did wake up very early, earlier than he normally did whenever he spent time there and his body was a bit confused by what was happening.

Beatrice however surprised him, because she was up before he was, sitting on the kitchen chair with Jolene lying by her feet, waiting for the coffee maker to be done. He runs his hand over his face so he’d wake up, leaning against the doorframe to watch Beatrice since she hadn’t noticed him yet, her own eyes blinking hard to keep herself awake. He smirks, pushing himself from the door to step into the kitchen, the sound of his footsteps finally making the brunette snap her eyes in his direction, “Oh, hey.”

‘Hey,” he grins, leaning down to kiss her temple, “What are you doing up? You know I have to wake up really early during the week.” she hums, leaning into his kiss with the same sleepy look on her face, watching him open the cabinets to grab their mugs from inside.

“Just wanted to be here with you.” she says quietly, almost slurred, leaning on her hand to support her head up, thanking him when he places the Ponyo mug in front of her, “Thought…” she yawns mid-sentence” Thought I better get used to it.”

Because they were going to move in really soon, god she was so sweet, “Baby, you don’t have to. I know how much your sleep means to you and you need your rest.” but he did appreciate her being with him, he really did. “Do you want me to make you breakfast then? I can whip something really quick.”

“No, no it’s fine.” she inhales, rubbing her face with both hands, tapping her cheeks to wake up fully, then blinking her eyes open, “I can do something, what do you usually take before going to work?”

Bradley thinks about it, following her hips’ sway as she walks to the fridge, tilting his head to the side to have a better look of her behind, “Honestly, considering the time now…I’d probably have scrambled eggs and coffee.”

“No bacon?” she questions, already grabbing a few eggs with her body leaning back from the fridge “Okay,I can do that.” 

“You don’t have to, baby.”

“It’s okay!” she tells him, gently placing the eggs inside a blue porcelain bowl, “I don’t mind it, really.”

“Okay…only if you promise to go back to sleep after I leave.”

“Oh, I don’t even have to promise that.”

Both of them laugh at the joke, with Rooster leaning on his hand now, watching Beatrice prepare him scrambled eggs with a smile on her face. This would be routine for them, she was right, and he too had to get used to it, ‘So,” he begins, “Maybe this week we can look at some places.” she keeps on moving the fork rapidly inside the bowl to mix the eggs, but looks over her shoulder to where he was seated, “You know? And get some things  settled.”

Beatrice smiles, pouring the eggs inside the heated pan, “I’d like that…considering the time we’d have to do it too.” she was very excited, she couldn’t believe it, her stomach was flipping with happy nerves and the pure joy of living together with Rooster. With the man she loved! It’d be a completely new experience for both, but since they already talked about the basics - finances and whatnot - this would be really fun.

She places the scrambled eggs on a plate, sliding it over to Rooster and kissing his temple, “I’m going to get your coffee.” she whispers on his hair, kissing his forehead and then stepping back to fill his mug. Bradley could only smile with his heart filled with so much love for this woman he didn’t know what else to do, besides,well, anxiously waiting for the moving day to come.

He’d have to tell Mav, he figured that keeping that secret from him wouldn’t be wise especially considering they’d need help moving everything to the new place, and his godfather would never forgive him if he found that out by anyone that wasn’t him. So, that was going to be the plan for that day, talk to Mav about the move in with Bea and hopefully Pete wouldn’t cry when he finds out about it.

Beatrice joins him for the rest of breakfast, choosing to not eat anything yet since she felt she’d just fall asleep soon after she was done, she just sat with him and they chatted about everything they should do until the fateful day…and Beatrice casually said something about celebrating her birthday, loving if they could do to the karaoke bar she and the girls went when he was deployed last time.

He was mentally cheering that she said that, because it was one of the options he thought about and now he could talk to Evelyn and they could organize this easily without hiccups. He noticed that over time Beatrice’s words slowly got quieter and quieter, with her eyes fighting to keep awake and her hand turning more into a pillow and something to support her head up.

He finishes his breakfast in silence, seeing that Beatrice was now fully asleep while on the kitchen table and smiles to himself, gently placing the plate in the sink so it wouldn’t make any noise and then picking a snoozing Beatrice out of the chair in bridal style, tsking twice so Jolene would follow him.

Rooster carefully places Beatrice back on the bed, tucking her with the bed sheets and leaning down to kiss her cheek, “Sleep well gorgeous.” he whispers, “I’ll see you later.” he looks back down at Jolene who was now seated by the end of the bed, “Keep and eye on her, Jojo.” he playfully pets the pitbull’s head, before disappearing into the bathroom to change and get ready for work.

[trekkiewatt]

The following letter of 1824 was addressed to Charles McCutchan-Johnstone (later known as Charles ~McJohnston), who was the first settler at MC:Cutchanville, Indiana, in 1819. It was written to him by his sister-in-law, Ameha Fox McCutchan-Johnstone, from the Foxbrook estate in County Meath, and dated March 29, 1824.

My very dear and much beloved brother- I embrace the opportunity of one of our workmen going out to America to write to you. I received your letter a few days ago. It was a welcome letter indeed: It brought us the pleasing news of you and your family being in good health and that poor, still dear, tho unfortunate, Robert is alive.

'Twas reported in this country he was dead. 'Tis almost a year and half since his last letter to me. I wrote several to both you and to him and sent them to Dublin to a person I thought would have got them sent either to England or America, but I believe they were never sent. I have lived the last year at Foxbrook with my family. I have been greatly tossed by the lease of Goshen dropping. There was so much rent due at the time. I moved my furniture. Thot I might try to get a valuation for the timber for which (except the young ones) there was no registry. His Lordship has agreed to allow me a valuation for them when I am leaving. This which I have taken at 30 per acre (as tenant at will, for he gives no lease to anyone), and I am to pay the arrears at 20 pounds half yearly until all is paid. Not knowing what to do or where to get a place cheaper. Indeed I tried, and as bad as Goshen is I could get no place that would answer me so well- for living so far from Corboy was a ruinous thing. Many a time this year I have sighed and wished I was living near you. To describe all my mind and body has suffered since I saw you would be to much for me.

I feel a hope when my boys have their professions that we will go and settle in your country. My son Matthew is in his second year in the college, and Robert is studying surgery. I have no doubt but he will be one of the most leading men in his profession. They are both very sensible well minded gentlemanly stout fellows and well looking. Matthew is six foot four inches- Robert beyond six feet, very clever and reckoned very handsome- but he is better than handsome- he is most proper in his conduct as they all are thank God.

Andrew is the same industrious laborious fellow and has little for it. He is a good brother and obedient son. He would gladly go to America if he could, but I can’t grant him leave until his ‘It’s only He can keep you from sin. You cannot keep yourself. Cry mightily to him and he will save you from the tempter, and become a preacher in your family -both by example and precept. By and by you will you will be called on to give an account of your stewardship. May you by divine grace be enabled to be a faithful one- Giving God all the glory. I wish you had a religious wife- one about your own age that would be satisfied to give up all her time and interest herself for the spiritual as well as the temporal advantages of you and your children. Such an one is not easy found. I have been looking all around me everywhere I could think of and say I know no one I could recommend and that would be satisfied to go to America. One has just struck my mind at this moment. ‘Tis likely you may not approve of her. You know her I believe. She is not handsome and rather old- but she is an industrious person rather gentlewoman like and that might be an advantage to your daughters. She has been among the Methodists. I don’t know whether she is now. She is Jack Bickerstaff’s sister and always lives with him- but has a daughter of a very amicable character only I fear you would not get her to go to America, and she might bring a young family that would clash with the interests of the other children.

Therefore it is my duty on that hand to be silent - but if you could come over we would try to get you one your mind for it is not good good for a man to be alone. My very dear Charles I have your interest much at heart and should be glad to see you happily settled both for time and eternity- the woman I mention is both agreeable and notable. I think she must be beyond 40. You must have seen Ally Bickerstaff. I only mention her as she struck my mind since I began to write and never before. If you would not like the idea laugh at it. Write soon and and tell me candidly. Your children as they are of a large greed must be by this time pretty well grown. I fear the want of female society must be a great loss to them- both male and female should be refined, but when females are not it is a sad thing. Give my love to them. Let them have useful improving books to read if you can. Give my love also to Mrs. Hilliard. You did not mention in your last how she is doing. Tell her for me to prepare for eternity. I hope you have family worship with your family night and morn.

My brother Wm. Has a prospect of getting out of his difficulties. He has six sons and two daughters and will soon have the addition of another child. Mathilda has six children. She and Creighton are beginning to do better. I have not seen her since her trip to America. Wm. Goslin is now agent to Lord Froman, he was Colonel Barrey, and as Creighton lives on the estate he has been friendly to him and got him —-(a portion of the letter here is missing).

Amelia McCutchan-Johnstone

March 1824

(PS) - I will write soon again if I get an opportunity. The Douglases are preparing to go. There are numbers going from this neighborhood this year. All that can go are determined to go. Billy Kennedy would gladly take out his family, but is not quite able. He hopes he may at a future period. Tom Gardner intends going in June. So Will Wm. Gardner if he can accomplish it. If I were to set out I think there would be a great many would wish to come with me. Write to know is Robt. Indeed alive or why he does not write to his family-and let me know. My family are still at Foxbrook until May. Only Andrew is here with me. He desires his love to you and yours. Your brother James is doing very well in Longford. He says you lost your-( )- by going to America. So you will see how people differ in their opinion. The fellow who carries this is a hard working well behaved individual. His name is James Taylor. I desire him to put this in the post at New York.

Note: Charles McCutchan-Johnstone had married Maria Fox of Foxbrook, a sister to Amelia, the writer of the above letter, but Maria died shortly before Charles set out for America, so at the time he received this letter at McCutchanville he was a widower. “Still dear though unfortunate “ Robert ( who was not known to be dead or alive) was Amelia’s husband, a brother to Charles. Robert McCutchan-Johnstone came to America but disappeared and it is believed that he died in Philadelphia. Amelia and her son, Robert, eventually came to America and settled in Cleveland, Ohio, where Robert set up a medical practice using the name, Dr. Robert Johnstone. The Mrs. Hilliard mentioned was Charles’s eldest sister, the former Elizabeth McCutchan, who had come from Granard in County Longford, Ireland, in 1819 and settled north of McCutchanville.

brothers are ready. Their professions will support them as gentlemen anywhere. I am told America is a good place for their professions.

My girls are almost quite grown up and improved. I doubt not they could keep a boarding school in some of the cities of America, for to do country work they would not like. I should like the country. I am fond of industry, and I think they would anything to serve themselves. I am sorry to find you do not have not the advantages of religious society, which from your letter I would suppose. Could you not have the Methodist preachers to visit you ? I could not be anywhere I could not have the people of God to visit me and associate with. I think if I was near you I would strive in the name of God to have the to have a neighborhood flaming with the glory of God. Oh my dear brother, betake yourself to prayer. Resist in the name of your redeemer all temptation.

[landlordrecords]

Charity CD shopping for beginners

About nine years ago, I did THIS post: https://www.tumblr.com/landlordrecords/77471855182/charity-record-shopping-for-beginners , which I thought was quite good & summed up the subject of shopping for records in charity shops quite well, & seemed to get the odd nice comment. Since then, vinyl has swung back into favour, & everyone now seems to think every piece of vinyl is worth a fortune, & hence the charity shops either have overpriced vinyl or none at all (as either the shops sell them online or at central stores, or punters hold onto them or sell them online). Hence, the current state of the charity shops for vinyl is very poor, back to the days of largely bad easy listening & 80s records. It must be an annoying time to be starting out as a record collector (can you imagine starting now? Jeez. It was a tall enough order when I started at the beginning of the 90s). I covered CDs briefly in that piece, but I felt that with the way things have gone, that bit needed expanding somewhat. As with the previous one, if you’ve been around for a while, most of this will be obvious, but...

When the vinyl in charity shops started drying up a few years ago, I noticed the CDs were becoming more plentiful & cheaper. I often largely ignored these before, rushing from shop to shop when I was in a town for an hour or two, to look at all the vinyl. CDs in charity shops often used to be relatively expensive (£3/£4), considering that you can’t always guarantee they will play right, & the selection often poor. Now, as more people clear out collections & settle for streaming, the charity shops didn’t know what to do with them all, they had so many, & they have dropped to a max of usually £1.25, & often even 20p/25p, at which price it doesn’t really matter if the odd one doesn’t play (indeed, this is cheaper than replacement jewel cases used to be - if I was more mercenary, I’d hoover up loads of Westlife CDs, throw out the discs & replace all my bust boxes). With the pandemic, there was a huge amount of stuff people had time to sort & throw out, & this did seem to cause a charity shop wobble, with some being overwhelmed with CDs they couldn’t get rid of, & stopping doing them altogether (I even stuck one place £20 when they were literally giving away two rooms full of discs & I’d handpicked 100 from them). This seems to have calmed down now though. I have no idea how many I’ve bought in recent years - certainly many hundreds, maybe low thousands - I’ve had to start a supplementary part of my collection at my parents’ house, at the other end of the country, for the less exciting ones, there have been so many. Don’t get me wrong, I REALLY love vinyl - I was a record collector for several years before we even got a CD player, & I just stuck with it, BUT I’m not ultra-fussy - I do like to have physical copies of things, but don’t really mind what format, & new vinyl prices are truly mental, so... CDs also do have some obvious advantages - more compact, not better but more reliable audio playback (& probably better audio for a small but significant number of very quiet releases where you’d need virgin vinyl kept pristine to get good audio for them on vinyl), plus readymade for ripping from. 

My first big bagging was a couple of full collections of hip hop CDs - I pretty much completely overhauled my hip hop collection, filling in classics I’d never got round to, pretty much full (relevant) discographies for various rappers I’d never caught up with. There were earlier & later ones, but the bulk were from what I’d call the silver age (mid 90s-early 2000s), a lot of which I had ignored because of the received wisdom that this generation of hip hop albums were overlong, had too many skits, were just a couple of singles & an hour of filler. I have to say, this changed my opinion on that - I generally listen to CDs in the car, often hopping between stop-offs, & (taken in this episodic way, & able to dedicate more concentration than I can often give rap lyrics, while driving mechanically around well-known streets), I found most (certainly not all) to be way better than that, & well worth a listen or two. Also (& this isn’t new, but I’ve increased it), I spend a lot of time looking at 90s CD singles: these were often ultra-long, full of soundalike remixes, & I found this a chore at the time, but (still fiending for a lot of stuff from then), it’s surprising how many have good quality mixes buried away deep into the tracklist, even ones by acts you wouldn’t normally touch with a bargepole, & while some might be expensive on vinyl, they’re certainly not on CD single (if you can spot them). With the aforementioned episodic driving, I even quite like listening to half an hour’s worth of mixes of the same tune in order to find the goodies!

Most of the rules which I gave in the earlier piece, regarding vinyl, stay the same here -

For the Collector, Not the Dealer: I know several people who have advocated for years not to throw the baby out with the bath water on CDs - yes, they started overpriced, but became a useful, cheap way to pick up catalogue BUT they are not generally worth much still. I am starting to see rumblings that this is changing (think pieces etc), & it surely will do over time, as supplies on some titles get tighter; plus I seem to be selling cheap CDs better than a few years ago, for ever so slightly more, & occasionally for good prices BUT this is not a goldmine, it is for the enthusiast.

Broad Not Deep: Some genres I barely find in charity shops - for instance, any experimental stuff will be near-random & rare, & I don’t see much metal at all (I presume people hold onto it or swoop in first). Hence, you can’t generally go in expecting to find certain stuff (with the odd exception of ones I’ve seen hundreds of times but not thought I was interested in, then hear, like, & know I can go out & find within the next few stores). To be heavily into it, you need to be into a broad spread of stuff, & prepared to come home with a pretty random selection, commercial or obscure.

Go In Them All, Look At Every CD: Charity shops are seriously random, you never know what will come in when.

Be Prepared For Defeat: To be fair, with charity shop CDs at the mo, I could always buy SOMETHING, but try to keep your quality control going & be prepared to be pleased just to have swept that area recently. I sometimes find comps that have one or two tracks I’m after, but I listen to everything (eventually), & can’t always bear the thought of hearing all the other tracks I’ve got ten times over yet again.

If It Seems Right, Ask: I haven’t bothered getting into situations where I might get into the storeroom so much with CDs as with vinyl, but I still do occasionally get invited to look at further hidden stock if I ask if they’ve any more music. Worth a go in the right situation.

The Genres You Don’t Buy Yet: Refer back to Broad Not Deep.

Prices: We are starting to get back to where a few of the chains now have a special shop where they send all the good stuff (books, DVDs, CDs), & ramp the prices up. I’m willing to look, but unlikely to buy anything, at big prices in charity shops unless it’s some unbelievable find - most CDs are probably the same price or less new online still. Fair play to them though, & the prices aren’t as mental as those they sometimes put on vinyl yet (that trend has spread further & further, & to be fair, in recent years, has thrown up a handful of charity shops where they are clearly run by someone who knows their stuff, & I have found myself looking at racks & racks of things I never really thought I’d see copies of...but I can’t afford).

CONDITION

This was what I wanted to expand on most - I didn’t previously say much before regarding CD condition, other than that they don’t always play. I’m no expert on CD cleaning, so this is very much a rough guide, but:

Look at the playing surface of the disc in the light (usually the silver side with no artwork, although there are other colours, & sometimes I think you get double-sided ones, & some might have basically zero artwork, so are plain silver either side - hence, be slightly careful). If there is some dirt or whatever on it, it’ll probably come off - just give it a brush - & it’ll be fine. As with vinyl, with scratches it largely comes down to how deep they look - if it has just brushed against some stuff, it will probably be fine (although I might leave it if it is a spiderweb of such marks), if the marks look like it has literally been scratched, it might still play but I would generally just leave it. If you can see through the disc where paint has flecked off, it is toast, leave it. You won’t see many cracked ones, but obviously they won’t play. Beyond that, it is hard to tell - I was playing a DVD I’d picked up for 20p the other week, got halfway through & it started skipping chapters. When I got it out, I realised I must not have checked it very well, & the entire playing surface was covered in some sort of misty see-through build-up. I spent quite a while putting it under a slow cold tap, dabbing it dry with a soft towel, & repeating (all my CD-cleaning stuff died some years ago & it’s not something I need often enough to replace), eventually then rubbing the watery surface repeatedly when the previous technique wasn’t making much difference. It played fine afterwards. Others might look fine but not play at all - they can be temperamental.

Disc rot seems to mainly affect a generation of CDs from about the early 90s, although I’ve not seen it often enough to take much interest in it. It sounds like the name (look it up on Google Images), & obviously isn’t good if you do stumble across one with it. Bronzing comes from the same period (the discs end up looking bronze in colour), & I don’t remember having issues with ones like this, although I read that they will degrade, & they look pretty ugly.

Packaging-wise, if the disc has been kept OK, there may well be next to nothing wrong with the booklet etc - sometimes they’re a bit bent up or have rusty staples. The main annoyance is when they’ve been pushed in incorrectly & there are marks from the tray tabs on the booklet. This isn’t going to bother me unless they’ve caused a heck of a lot of damage. You also get water-damaged ones - best avoided, but if they are valuable ones & it’s just a bit of moisture (not everything stuck together), buyers don’t seem to mind. The real issue with CD packaging is the darned boxes. You can have lots of little imperfections with vinyl packaging, but in most cases, if it’s there, it looks broadly OK. CDs, however, were blessed with the dreaded jewel case, one of man’s worst inventions. To be fair, these are easily replaceable, & do generally do the job of protecting what’s inside, but they are also seriously maddening. They often get cracked, not that that is usually a big deal, but the worst is the hinges breaking off - they are really delicate. I have so many sat around here that I sometimes only have to move my chair around slightly to have another few to replace. About as annoying are the teeth which are meant to keep the disc in place - you can often open them straight from the factory & half of these are already broken off or flattened. Arguably better, but still flawed, are digipaks (the ‘softback’ of CD packaging) - these look way nicer to start with, but (as the tray is glued into the card), if the teeth go, it somewhat ruins the effect, & they are a bit prone to getting rubbed & scraped & little tears. I’m starting to think about putting my better ones in PVC slips. Far too late in the day, the industry eventually came up with super jewel cases, which are basically the same design & size as jewel cases, but much more robust (particularly around the hinge areas) & feature the latest in a long line of attempts to improve on the teeth. To be honest, I have relatively few of these, so the jury is still out for me, but they’re certainly better than what came before. Either way, as mentioned above, jewel cases are pretty much interchangeable & therefore easy to replace (it is more the number that need replacing after a while that is irritating) - some of the majors did do their own branded ones, but it is subtle & they did enough that these aren’t hard to replace either, if you are so inclined. I’ve never seen anyone arguing the toss over what generation of jewel case is on their expensive second-hand CD purchase, although I can imagine that coming in the future.

CDRs are a separate thang. A brilliant format to start with (wow, home recording artists can cheaply make their own releases, as with cassettes, but you can skip to individual tracks), they have turned out to be rather temperamental. To be fair, I have been examining mine a bit in recent times & it does mainly seem to be very early ones from certain labels (ie certain makes of machine) that have died, & even if they don’t work in players anymore, they sometimes still rip (or vice versa) - this is also the case with skipping CDs in general. A lot of the stuff that has died was by people who are still around, loading stuff up on Bandcamp etc, so it isn’t the end of the world but (as with breaking delicate 78s), it is a bit galling when they go, although some collectors don’t even seem to mind, they just want the item for posterity. If you’ve got lots of CDRs you haven’t ripped at high quality, especially early ones, it might be time to get them done if still possible.

VALUE?

There are, of course, plenty of CDs which are rare, although it is limited numbers compared to vinyl (which, as well as being generally agreed as more attractive, has a much longer history). The sort I see going for extreme money are one-offs (studio discs of work in progress etc), or box sets, or very obscure but trendy stuff, but there are plenty of second hand ones around at old CD prices (£10-15): if you imagine picking one of them up in every fifty 20p CDs from charity shops, it helps keep things affordable. I suspect some very early CDs might be worth money (although I’ve not seen much evidence of it in ones I’ve had, & would note that some of the early reissues have quite poor sound quality, obviously transferred from vinyl ‘needledrops’ rather than master tapes). I generally have a look at pop ones from past the mid-2000s, as sometimes these weren’t done in very long runs & can be worth at least enough to keep my hobby going, although it does vary (the golden rule is to only buy stuff I’d happily keep if it’s not worth anything). Certainly you see a lot of more recent promo ones by people who went on to be big going for inflated prices on Discogs, although this may wane over time, as they fall out of favour. The most valuable CD I own is the first Sleaford Mods CD(R), picked up as I think one of the last copies, just as they were about to go big. The most valuable I’ve picked up from a charity or junk shop is a donk double mix CD (!), but that’s only worth 50 quid, so you’re not going to make your fortune here BUT YOU ARE GOING TO PICK UP LOTS OF INTERESTING MUSIC YOU’VE NEVER HEARD BEFORE.

[jodilin65]

TUESDAY, JUNE 29, 1999 Yesterday Tom turned 42. It’s hard to believe that in just 8 years he’ll be 50. If there’s one good thing about his being older, it’s that if the place we move to does end up growing over the years, we can move to Sun City in just 13 years.

The thing that really pissed me off was that Tom’s mom didn’t even care to send him a birthday card this year like she always used to. There’s always the chance it was misdelivered or will be delayed, but if not, that just made the woman go even lower in my mind. First she uses him, steals our time and money, then she doesn’t even send him a birthday card!

For his birthday, I made Tom a disk of a screen saver I made for him with different sayings on different backgrounds.

Before I get into our land hunt - Minnie’s trying to get in touch again. Also, and to my utter amazement, I never did hear from Andy this weekend and no pants showed up at my door. I left him a message a little while ago asking what the scoop was with that. Maybe he took care of his own damn pants for a change. Or got too fat for them, button or no button.

Next door was quiet all weekend. As quiet as they usually are during the week. But will it stay this way? I wonder about July 4th. Well, if it doesn’t stay quiet, we’ll deal with it then.

I went out to put my mail out and saw all their van windows open. This may not be New York City, Boston, or Springfield, but that is so stupid!

Later…

OK, on with yesterday’s outing. We left at 6 AM and didn’t return till 1 PM.

We didn’t go to Palm Harbor’s place in Apache Junction as we originally planned, but that’s to be our next step to find out what we qualify for. Then, we go out with a realtor to more property.

We drove out to Maricopa which is nestled by the Ak-chin Indian reservation and the Gila River Indian reservation. They also have Hopi, Navajo, Mojave, Apache, and more throughout the state. In fact, most of Arizona is owned by the government (national parks or forests) or the Indians. They have a lot of ancient Indian ruins around the state too, that I want to check out some time.

We looked at 3-acre lots. Some had manufactured houses on them, some were empty. I was surprised to see how close the houses were, although Tom didn’t think they were too close at all. To me, they looked two houses apart. From us to the collie’s house. He said he didn’t think so. He felt they looked 10 houses apart, and that distance can fool you if there’s nothing in between houses. He said we wouldn’t hear neighbors in our house. Outside - maybe. The 3-acre lots were more expensive but were rigged with utilities and water that was piped into the houses just like they are here in the city. We liked the more secluded, private, bigger lots, that are cheaper, but the catch is that they aren’t rigged for phone, electricity, or water.

I was surprised to see how many kids lived there (I still plan not to have a kid) and the school buses for summer school that went by. They have mail services, but the mail doesn’t come into your house through a slot. You have mailboxes at the edge of your property. I don’t know if UPS goes out there or not, but I’d think so. Maybe the mail service will be better out there and we won’t need a PO Box.

The owners of the rental are here now. When are they gonna sell or re-rent the place?

Anyway, the secluded lots were more private because their natural desert landscape was untouched. The sage bushes and Palo Verde trees are boring looking compared to saguaros, prickly pears, and ocotillos, but they do shield you from other houses. The houses that were on the smaller lots had originally been farmland, so all the sage and cactuses were cleared out. In that area, though, embedded in the base of Papago Butte Mountain, was a house for sale that we might consider checking into. It’d be perfect as far as utilities and water go, and the payments would be cheaper than this house, but the house might be a dump. It’s a manufactured house, but it’s about 20 years old. I’d prefer something new. It’s listed as a 3-bedroom 2½ bath with an addition that could make it a 4-bedroom house, but the big question is - is it quiet being elevated above other houses and with neighbors on either side, that again, seem so close? Don’t get me wrong. They’re not 3 feet away, but I still don’t see how a pack of screaming kids couldn’t be heard from the next house over (not that a 3-acre lot wouldn’t suit us. It’d sure beat 3 feet and be much quieter) Also, being higher, that enables the surrounding houses a straight shot at the house with their noise. Lastly, we were wondering how you’d put a pool in with it being on an incline like that. We may have to put it in front. At least we wouldn’t have to worry about anything noisy coming in behind us being nestled right against the bass of the mountain.

So, now that we saw the area, measured distances, checked out acreage, and looked over landscapes, we checked off all the appealing ads in those papers that the realtor sent so we can check those out, and the mountain house, too. We got a kick out of some of the ads that said: secluded with good neighbors. If you’re so secluded, then how do you know what your neighbors are like? And when they say “good neighbors” do they mean quiet neighbors or neighbors that are decent people?

Some of the mountains are prettier than others. I like the rockier mountains, rather than the ones that look like huge piles of dirt.

Tom asked if I’d be nervous with him gone since some people worry about being all alone with homicidal maniacs on the loose. Homicidal maniacs can be anywhere, but I think there are more of those in cities. Also, and as I told him, if it’s my time to go, so be it. If I’m destined to ever be shot, run over, or stricken with a killer disease, then there’s nothing I can do to stop that. Meanwhile, I can’t imagine my being nervous, and to this day I regret bothering the police to check out the sounds I heard when I first came to this house. I should’ve been a big girl and checked it out myself, just like I do from time to time, and that’s what I’ll do if I hear anything strange no matter where we live. If it’s our house, it’s our problem and our responsibility to deal with anything suspicious or that has our curiosity peaked. Anyway, a homicidal maniac can throw itself into anyone’s house anywhere, but if one does decide to pick our house, it damn well better come armed or with lots of pals, cuz any unarmed cock or two that comes to my door is gonna be walking straight into a death trap. I’ll kill it, bury it, and not even bother to call the cops. Let its family wonder whatever the hell became of it.

Anyway, noise is more important an issue to me than views or privacy. People can look as long as they don’t bother us. If I hear soft sounds off in the distance that isn’t constant, OK. As long as dogs, music, and people aren’t heard as well as I can hear them here.

The only bummer of it is, is that we’re still looking at being here another 2-3 months. At least. As Tom says, we have the rest of our lives, but I want out of here! I’ve been wanting out for years!

After looking at the land we went to K-Mart. They had ugly sundresses, but a surprising number of $20 porcelain dolls. They had some for $30 too, that were a little bigger.

What I did end up getting was a Heart CD. It was another Greatest Hits album, but this time, with the original recordings. Not live. I was hoping this one would have another version of Dreamboat Annie, a really beautiful song, for variety’s sake. They did. Only this one’s not nearly as nice. It also comes with the lyrics. Tom and I had tried to find Heart lyrics online to no avail.

Tom forgot the map, so he bought another one in Osco Drug so he could find the way to Red Lobster. Also, he wanted a newer map of the state. Osco Drug also had a handful of $20 porcelain dolls.

Our experience at Red Lobster was totally different than our last trip there a year ago. No kid could’ve thrown food at us if they wanted to as the nearest table was too far away. Also, all the neighboring diners were adults. There was one baby, but it slept the whole time it was there.

The lobster was good, but it didn’t seem as meaty this time around. Guess it was a little one. He had a hamburger.

Our last stop was the grocery store to quickly pick up a few items. When we were at the check-out counter, I saw a little booklet titled: The Right Way to Pray. Well, how hard can that be? Don’t you just ask God for what you want? Maybe there is a right way and a wrong way to pray since he’s never answered 98% of my prayers. Or maybe there simply is no right way we can pray for the things we aren’t meant to have. You can’t ask for what isn’t destined.

What is it with all this God shit popping up, anyway? There are so many commercials about books to get on how to establish a personal relationship with God. Well, to each their own, and yes, God’s blessed me in many ways, but for the most part, he’s allowed pain and hardship to be inflicted upon me and I don’t care to establish a relationship with someone that could do that to me. I don’t do connections with control freaks whether they’re parents, Gods, or whoever.

I look in the mirror and I still see a pudgy person there. How can Tom call me skinny? I swear I’m only thin in the wrists and ankles! Having such a small mouth doesn’t help my face. It makes it look bigger. I also wonder if my bottom teeth will always go downhill from left to right. Since the teeth on the right side are back further, it makes it look like the teeth on the left side are taller. Well, even if they stay like they are - they’re great compared to what I started with. They’re plenty straight enough now.

Later…

I got to thinking about it and started wondering if all those private calls not only could be Andy, but messages he’s leaving that I’m not getting, so even though I doubted that the machine was fucked up, I called and left a message asking him about it, but he says it’s not him that’s been calling. Well, I admit that it could be sales or Eldon, but my gut instinct says it’s Andy. The calls are coming when I know he’s home, and I really think he had Michelle call when he was back east to try to throw me off. A private call came in right after he left his message. What better way to try to throw someone off than to call right after leaving a message denying you’ve been calling them, huh? I should know. I used to do the same thing he’s doing. Well, although I’m curious to know who the caller is for sure, they say your gut instinct is the one to trust, so I think I can bet on it being Andy. OK then Andy, have your fun while it lasts!

Really, though, if it’s entertaining to him - fine. The loser doesn’t have anything better to do. It’s so sad, too. This guy isn’t dumb. I mean, he is and he isn’t. If he only wouldn’t waste his life sitting home getting stoned, he could offer this world so much.

Anyway, in his message denying the calls, he didn’t say anything about the pants, just that he had a dream about Quinn (oh, God!) and that he misses him. Also, he knows where Papago Butte is and wouldn’t mind visiting me there cuz it’s not too far. Well, Andy dear, it’s about 40 minutes away from where you are, you say you have a shit car that’s unregistered, and the town is Maricopa. Only the mountain’s called Papago Butte (not that we’re definitely gonna live at the base of this mountain). But it doesn’t matter how close or how far it is, cuz I know he’s not going to be visiting.

SUNDAY, JUNE 27, 1999 My vibes have been right so far. No music from next door. All we saw was the gold car come to visit and Tom said he heard voices out back yesterday afternoon when he was rinsing paintbrushes. I told him I knew the humidity wouldn’t stop them from hanging out back (not that I care about voices at this point. It’s music I care about) and he said they may’ve been inside the house with the evaporative cooler running which needs open windows. I said I was surprised they’d run the cooler and not the AC, and he said they may not have much of a choice. Really? I thought everything was paid for them - their bills, their food, their clothes, etc. Maybe not, though. The electricity may’ve been included in the Oswego Street project, but it wasn’t in the NHA.

Just heard the van return and two car doors. One for him. One for her. So, does the smaller fat lady, whose name I don’t know, stay home and watch the kids when Debra and her hubby take off? Who is this woman in relation to Deb? Her mom? Sister? Cousin? In-law? Friend? I never got a good look at her to see if I could see a resemblance to Deb and how old she might be, but she’s gotta be in her 40s at the very least. I can’t tell if Deb’s in her 20s or 30s. Her face is so swollen with fat that her eyes are nearly swollen shut and I can’t see lines and wrinkles too well if they’re there.

No calls from Andy (yet). Now that’s really surprising. I mean, aren’t we gonna have to play phone a zillion times over a lousy pair of pants? Isn’t he gonna have to call a zillion times leading up to the big drop-off of these pants? Maybe they’re already out front, but I’m not gonna check right now. Not with the hinges loaded with masking tape. We masked the doors and shit like that that we didn’t want the paint sprayer to hit.

For the last 5 days or so, there have been private messageless calls. Tom says it could be Eldon, whose number comes up as private, and who’s been known to call and leave no message. Could be Andy, too.

Later…

Tom took the air compressor inside so he could spray paint and he made a major breakthrough with covering the wall art. Most of it barely shows anymore, so that’s great. He did the kitchen and the living room yesterday, although the living room ceiling still needs to be done. Today he’s gonna concentrate on the bedrooms.

SATURDAY, JUNE 26, 1999 The bathroom fan does a great job. Not one drop of moisture was on the mirror when I stepped out of the shower.

To give my hair a break from the same old, same old, I switched shampoos. This one has a separate shampoo and conditioner, unlike the one I’d been using that had both in one bottle. Its vanilla scent, which seems to be a popular scent these days, is nice and it lets me use more conditioner. Those two-in-one put way more shampoo in than conditioner and this hair needs a ton of conditioner.

All’s been quiet next door since I got up at midnight. In fact, from what I can see, no vehicle at all has been over there. My vibes said there wouldn’t be any music, but my logic said there would be. Well, I’m glad my vibes have won so far, but I repeat, so far. The weekend’s young. However, since our chat last Sunday, I haven’t seen or heard anything more than the van’s comings and goings. No kids, no music, no voices. And thank you God for seeing that as of yet, I’ve been wrong on that dog vibe. If that vibe’s right, I just hope it’s not till after we’ve moved. I don’t know if their quietness is a result of our talk, or if it would’ve panned out this way anyway, but I’m enjoying it while it lasts.

Later…

The van went out at 6:30. It’s deathly humid out there now, and hot. That might curb any shit from going down next door, and my vibes are good, but I don’t know. It didn’t stop that black cock from banging in and out of there when he was here in the heat and humidity, but so far, no sign of the ranchero or the white car.

Sex was pretty amazing earlier. Makes me wonder if he’s read my recent writings about the same old, same old getting rather old. He’s still making excuses, as usual. Don’t get me wrong. He’s still on the back excuse trip, saying it’s really weak and needs to be strengthened. Maybe so, and although he denies this, perhaps his age has something to do with it, too. Whatever. What was amazing was that he suddenly, out of the blue, asked if I wanted to go on top. I guess a part of this was cuz of his back and not just for the sake of variety, but what was even more amazing than me being on top for the first time in ages, was that I had no problem guiding him in there. As almost always, neither of us came. I asked if he’s cum by that before and he said yes. Anyway, I told him the variety was nice, and that although I did prefer to screw and be on the bottom most of the time, I like a change of pace every so often. Actually, I wish he’d go down on me every other time we got together (it just feels the best), but I know that that would be too much to ask of him. Way too much. The guy’s tongue would fall out! It takes me longer to cum nowadays. Besides, I already made my feelings known about him going down on me for a change, he didn’t do it, and I don’t want to make him do anything he doesn’t want to do.

FRIDAY, JUNE 25, 1999 Less than 24 hours to go before the peace we’ve had around here since Sunday’s gone.

I saw a bunch of people working on the rental yesterday, but I don’t know what they were doing. They were hammering an assortment of objects that were on the ground, they were on the roof, they were everywhere. I can’t believe the place is still empty, but I doubt it’ll last much longer.

I wish I could get myself to quit worrying about what I eat and just live life. Tom says I’m skinny, but as far as I’m concerned, I’m far from it. I’m not huge either, but I’m plump. Quite chunky in most areas. I will never be any thinner than I am now, so I wish I could get myself to stop wasting my time on diets. Also, although I want to, getting a home gym will be a tremendous waste of money. I’m just gonna do what I always do - I’ll stick to it with utter dedication and determination for the first few weeks, and then I’ll have to push myself. I always lose interest and drive. I’m still doing my stomach exercises, but barely. It’s a real struggle to get myself to do it. All that ambition I felt for a couple of weeks there is gone. Perhaps the reason I lack motivation is that I know I’m so limited. I knew my stomach wasn’t gonna get any flatter than where I’d flattened it to after a couple of weeks.

Tom worked a zillion hours overtime, again, as usual, cuz of a failed hard drive that runs the sorter he uses. When are we ever gonna get back on track with the painting, and when will this painting ever end, and when will we get the fuck out of here?! Before Lisa tries calling a hundredth time? Before Tammy decides to go on a let’s-forget-the-past-and-move-on-till-the-same-old-shit-happens-again-for-the-zillionth-time calling spree? Before Andy asks for a dozen more favors or wants me to go somewhere with him? Before next door’s company has banged in and out enough times to drive me crazy and wake me up?

Lisa’s only called once so far, but here we go with Andy’s favors again. Can’t come over without needing something from me. Couldn’t God have held him off just until we could finally get the fuck out of here?! He needs another button sewn. He says it popped off the first time he wore the pants, but I don’t buy it for a second. I’ve never heard of anyone popping buttons like he does, and sometimes I think he does it deliberately just to get a favor from me. And he happens to need to bring the pants over to me on a weekend? He says he wants to bring them over for just “5 minutes” or drop them off. Anything to rebel and to butt into my weekends! I left him a message to just drop them off and I’ll call him when they’re done. I told him we’d be out all weekend looking at land.

What’s he gonna do when I’m gone? He’s gonna have to learn to sew his own buttons on. And stop eating, too! I’m sure that most of this constant button popping is cuz he’s stuffing the shit out of himself. And I also think that’s the cause of the bulk of his puking, too. Stomachs and pants can only handle so much food.

Later…

Wow. It’s supposed to hit 110º this weekend. Finally! This is the mildest summer Arizona’s ever seen so far. It won’t stop cars from blasting in and out from, 10 PM-1 AM, though.

I listened to music, I scrubbed the bathroom, I scrubbed the kitchen sink, and now I’m bored shitless. Perhaps I should read and do some more cleaning since there’s nothing on TV but the usual, and since I have nothing to say till the weekend. Come the weekend, I’m sure I’ll have plenty to say. Till then and till we can get the fuck out of here, I find myself vegging out with my thoughts. I think about what my view is going to be like looking out at the natural desert landscape. You know how rotten a neighborhood Oswego Street was but did I ever tell you about the view? The exact view? From my back door, I could see a big old ugly dumpster. A few feet behind that was another 4-story brick building only it was empty and rundown. Some of its windows were boarded up and the ones that weren’t were smashed. There was graffiti all over it and garbage strewn everywhere. That was my view. And that was barely a decade ago.

THURSDAY, JUNE 24, 1999 Andy hasn’t called to tell me he was fired yet, so I guess that means he’s still working. He said the job was a piece of cake and that he has more free time than not while he’s there, so he reads magazines.

Also, he was puking his brains out like he always does the day before he starts a new job. But why? He should be an expert on starting new jobs. He only starts 50 new jobs a year.

Tom was rubbing against me suggestively when I got up. I asked him if he needed a quickie and he said no because it’d be too quick of a quickie and he had to shave. But he had nearly an hour and a half before work. Talk about being inflexible!

Anyway, I feel sexually trapped. This guy just does not want to branch out, explore, experiment, or try anything new when it comes to sex. It’s the same old, same old. It’s starting to get to me, but again, knowing I’m sexually hexed and knowing my bitching about it won’t change anything, I just keep my mouth shut and go along with what he wants in bed as we always have. I mean, there’s no variety. I know what we’ll do step by step whenever we get into bed. There are no surprises anymore. It’s not new and exciting anymore, and I know it’ll really turn him on if I bitch about it (I know it sounds horrible saying this about this otherwise great man, but it’s true. I just know it is), and that God has me hexed sexually no matter what, no matter who it’s with. It doesn’t matter if it’s only him for the rest of my life or a million people. Hexed is hexed. I can’t get him to break his rut of the same old and try something different for a change, and when I can, it’s only once or twice, then it’s right back to the usual. His idea of variety is stopping before we even begin. And every single Goddamn weekend it’s the excuses. 90% of the time, there’s a problem. He can’t just screw and not make excuses for why he has to stop. I know why he has to stop, but I was obviously right when I said he’d never admit to it. Then why not just keep his mouth shut? Why the constant excuses? If he can’t come out and admit his fears and ask that we use birth control, does he have to make excuses instead?

I’ve never enjoyed sex with this guy and I think about quitting, but what kind of guilt trip will he lay on me for it? How guilty will I end up feeling regardless? What will God do to me for it?

Speaking of God and his doing things to me, it’s quite a coincidence that I’ve been bothered, once again, by his taking away my right as a woman to choose, ever since the showdown with next door this weekend. See? If I don’t take what he dishes out to me, he inflicts some kind of pain or punishment upon me for it. There’s just no fighting what God’s got on the menu for me. I fear that if I go against God by throwing away the sex, he’ll do something to me emotionally for it.

Anyway, Tom straightened up the kitchen and the living room of papers and hardware, and I cleaned the refrigerator.

He got some more boxes today and a pretty, colorful pad of notepaper for me.

Later…

Next door’s still quiet at night and during the daytime. They still seem to go in and out a lot, the first trip usually starting now, at 6 AM.

I’m not at all looking forward to the weekend, as always. I don’t know if that white car did start to move in only to change its mind, if it only planned to be there for the weekend, or what, but I do know there’ll be some kind of shit over there this weekend. My guess is that the white car will bang in and out, or the ranchero will. I’ll probably send the city letter off next Monday. Especially if they fuck up my schedule which I just managed to get back on track so we can go look at land Monday, as well as to Red Lobster and to Wal-Mart.

I’ve gone from 107 pounds to 111 pounds. Yeah, I knew I would. Am I gonna try to lose it again? No. I’m not gonna bother, cuz I’ll just gain it right back.

Later…

Oh, no. Here we go again with Lisa trying to call collect. I’m not gonna answer and tell her a third time not to call me. I’m just gonna ignore her calls and hope they stop while we’re still here. We just can’t get out of here fast enough!

There was a private call a little while ago. Could it have been Andy? They didn’t leave a message, but he’s supposed to be at work now. What’d he do? Bail out of this job, too?

TUESDAY, JUNE 22, 1999 Andy left a message about starting a 2-week temp job answering phones during the day for $9 an hour (which he’ll quit or lose by Friday) and in my reply, I told him my feelings about not acknowledging our anniversary. He left a message saying he doesn’t acknowledge anyone’s anniversaries. Only birthdays. He said it was because he didn’t believe in marriage, then he chuckled and said he didn’t know why. I know why. It’s because he’s jealous. I know jealousy when I see it. It’s OK, though, to be jealous. I understand how badly he wishes he could say he’s been with someone for years and has had a great relationship with them. Then he tried to say he wasn’t sure when our anniversary was, but he thought it was June 15th. He knew that. He knew damn well when it was, cuz I mentioned it before the 15th. He can’t even blame his scrambled pot memory on that one, but he didn’t try. Anyway, we acknowledge what we acknowledge and I told him that’s OK (but of course, only I know, despite how much he may suspect it, that this will be our last anniversary where we’re friends).

Later…

Boy, have I been in a lazy mood! I got up at 12:30 last night, but all I wanted to do for the most part was lay around. At 10:00 this morning I ended up conking out till 5:30. I hope this doesn’t mean my schedule is fucked up for Monday. Monday, his birthday, we were gonna go to Red Lobster and look at some land.

Tom called yesterday about some land advertised in the Penny Saver, and we received info on it today. He said there are some promising deals.

Also, ironically enough, a lady left a message saying she sold some property in this area, so, if we’re interested, give her a call. That’s quite a coincidence, although I doubt we’ll be needing her.

It looks like I may’ve forgotten to mention this, but about a week ago, Paula left a message. It came up as private, so she apparently called from a friend’s house. I hope she doesn’t ring someone else’s bill up to call me. It doesn’t look like she’ll be doing that, though. She said she didn’t want a phone anymore, she’ll call me back, and everything’s OK. She hasn’t tried to call back yet, as far as I know. Also, I doubt it was a case of her simply not wanting a phone anymore. Maybe some guys were bothering her, but I think the main reason she lost the phone was due to so many calls to me. Also, she didn’t sound “OK.” She sounded rather down.

Yesterday, I gave Mel (who decided to leave that bracket off) a few pictures of animals I printed out for her, as well as a few of myself at different stages of my life, including one of my hair just past my shoulders back when I was 24.

As I stood up to leave, I wondered - was her big, baggy smock just sticking out? Or was she pregnant? I certainly wasn’t gonna ask and risk offending her and making her wonder if she was suddenly huge-looking and if it was just a case of her smock sticking out. Well, I’ll pay closer attention next time I see her, but it’s awfully hard to picture her pregnant. She just doesn’t look like a mom, nor does she seem like the type to want the hassle. I always pictured her as either never having kids, or not having them till she was in her late 30s.

I decided to forget about singing softly since we did make a deal, after all, to go to our doors if there’s a problem. So, if she can hear me, and if it bothers her, let her come to my door. I highly doubt she can hear me, though, cuz it’s in the house that sound goes easily, not out of the house.

I still haven’t seen the white car since Sunday, and all’s been quiet, but it’s not the weekend yet, either. I know the ranchero and the white car will be banging in and out next weekend, too. At least that white car doesn’t live there like I was beginning to fear was the case. I think it’ll live there on weekends, though.

MONDAY, JUNE 21, 1999 Things kind of came to a head around here yesterday, but it may be for the better. It’s too soon to tell, but it just may’ve been a good thing.

At around 5 AM yesterday, when Tom was getting up, they finally shut up next door. I typed the city a letter too, but we agreed to hold off on the mayor’s till the house went up for sale.

As we were going to Jack-n-the-Box at 7:00, I saw a guy walk out from between the houses in the carport, glance at us, then go back towards the backyard.

When we returned, the hood of the van was open, and I was thinking, great. Just great. So now they’re gonna be playing car repair all day like most freeloaders do and who knows what noise that’ll trigger being just a few feet away.

Between 8:00-9:00, the white car banged in and out 3 times. The final time, which was finally loud enough to wake me up, was the final straw. I blew from there. The years of having to deal with neighbor’s shit had taken its toll on me and I snapped. The stupid fucks with the white car backed the car out in the middle of the driveway, then left it sitting there with the bass booming while they went inside the house. So I stormed over there and walked up to their door which was wide open and let them know I was fed up and they had to shut up. At the same time I was turning to walk away, a woman was saying, “Will you please get out of my house” (but I didn’t step foot over their threshold and I reminded her that it wasn’t her house). Once I was back at our door (Tom was outside at this point) and the dudes with the white car came out. Tom was telling them to turn it down but they played deaf and dumb. Then he told me to call the cops, but they were leaving right as the dispatcher answered, so I told her to never mind and I hung up. She called right back and Tom told her the scoop.

Just as he hung up with the dispatcher, the doorbell rang. I opened the door and there stood two fat ladies and a guy. From there on out, I was thoroughly surprised and even impressed with what transpired. I was a little confused, too. The bigger woman, Debra, who looked and sounded white just like the other woman even though Tom thought she looked Hispanic, told me she was trying to buy the house. I guess the city has different programs and that they’re on an extremely different program than the blacks were on. How can a low-income person afford to buy a house? How can jobless people afford to buy a house? And how can 5 adults and at least 4 kids live in that house and still have room to breathe?

Anyway, Deb basically did all the talking. Her husband, who seemed like a very subdued, passive individual and who appears to be Mexican, said nothing. The other lady, whose name I don’t know, only spoke a few scattered sentences.

The 5 of us spoke for about 10 minutes and Deb let us know that my temper wouldn’t get me anywhere, if there was a problem with anything please come to her and not yell over the wall or go off on her guests, and that she knew where our door was, so she’d do the same. We agreed to this, and as I let her know, it was music that concerned me more than voices or anything else.

She said she was a good person and that she wanted to talk like normal human beings. Well, I must give her credit for coming over and talking to us like a civilized adult. She didn’t have to do that. She didn’t have to try to reason with us or compromise. She could’ve come over yelling right back. But she didn’t and I appreciate and admire her for it. She’s to be commended for how she handled the situation, which was far better than how I handled it.

All’s been quiet since I got up at 10:30 (Tom didn’t leave any messages, so I guess that means they were quiet) and the white car hasn’t been back that I know of, but don’t get me wrong. Even though I feel much calmer and have a good feeling about how things will go from here, that doesn’t mean that some sort of shit won’t go down (mainly with the white car or some other vehicle). Maybe they’ll go right back to being just as loud, or even worse of a nightmare, but for now, I’m hopeful that things will be OK till we can move, and I feel much more comfortable having met these people. Now that I know the people and have seen the faces behind the voices, I’m not as stressed out.

Tom and I agreed that from here on out, if there are any more problems, to let him know about it in full detail, then he’ll go talk to them.

From here on out, even though I’m sure I can’t be heard, I’m going to be singing really soft so they can’t say I’m practicing what I preach. Normally, I wouldn’t care, since they’ve been noisy and since most people out here are noisy, but I have to care. They have music more powerful than mine. Music that can take away my sleep. Therefore, as far as they’re concerned (if they stay quiet), they don’t know I exist.

So, we’ll just see what happens from here on out. I’m putting a hold on the city letter for now. I may even forget about sending them any excerpts on them after we move. It’s one thing to call a person a racial slur behind their backs as a way of venting, but it’s totally wrong, as far as I’m concerned, to directly call anyone a racial slur.

Even if things do go well from here on out, I still think they were wrong to be as noisy as they have been, and I still think it was intentional. I think they wanted to get attention and acknowledgment and I don’t condone their antics.

Meanwhile, I never meant to condemn them or anyone else for their lifestyle. The only time I have a problem with someone else’s way of doing things is when it comes through my walls. I don’t sic my noise on others. Therefore, I expect them to keep their noise and music for their ears only, too. I expect others to treat me as I treat them.

SUNDAY, JUNE 20, 1999 How do the kids sleep throughout all this loud babbling? Somehow, I doubt these wonderful role models give a shit.

Anyway, they’ve been out back gabbing away since I got up at 10:30. Makes me wonder if they could ever run out of things to say to each other. They just never seem to come up for air. The mouths go on and on and on, and bitch! I hate you for moving! I never thought that I’d be faced with having to worry about next door again like this. Especially after midnight! If it weren’t for us moving, I’d be out back screaming for them to shut up, even though I know it wouldn’t do me any good. Besides, I did say I’d fan out anything that wasn’t bass and that could be fanned out during our remaining weeks left here (unless God sees fit to add more time to our stay here). I really feel bad for the next people in here, cuz knowing how God works, odds are they’ll be nice folks who won’t deserve this shit. Not assholes, or assholes that are just as noisy.

Other than their vocal antics, this is the quietest Saturday yet with them here and that will probably ever be. Tom said there was the expected weekend company, but no music, and only a couple of cars. He didn’t see that white car.

Unbelievably, the van came and went from 10 PM last night to late in the morning. Over 12 hours of coming and going to and from God only knows where. From what we can gather, these fucks are sleeping from around noon-8 PM. I’ve never seen anything like this coming and going. Not even the blacks and the renters combined had these many vehicles and this many trips in and out.

I’m a little disappointed with Tom, cuz I feel like he reneged on our deal. He said if I insisted, he’d send out the city and mayor letters Monday but would prefer to wait till the house went up for sale. But who knows how many more weeks away that is?

I thought I just heard car doors, but I just went into the music room where they can be heard loud and clear and they’re still there. Why are they sitting out gabbing in the dark? Not one light is on over there.

Anyway, Tom thinks that others have complained already. I don’t think so. If they complained about these people, then why didn’t they complain about the blacks? And why isn’t the city doing anything like they did with the blacks?

Tom said that the city won’t do anything cuz of the way they run things. He said the mayor will, cuz mayors know that people write letters to newspapers if the mayor fails to respond to their letters. Well, I disagree, but maybe I’m wrong. I don’t think that just because the mayor’s in real estate and sold David this house that it means he’ll do something about the shit next door. If the city doesn’t do something, no one will. Not unless we the people take action and go over there and shoot all of them dead ourselves.

As I told Tom, I can’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to do, but I don’t think we can rely on other people having complained first, or wait till we put the house up for sale in case we can’t put it up for sale for months. Something’s stalling us and keeping us here by hurling one setback after another at us, as I knew would be the case eventually. It does not want us leaving here, and as far as I can see, if we don’t gain by the letters, can we really lose that much?

Yesterday, we thought we finally found the answer to the wall art not being able to be covered by putting on a thick joint wall compound, but guess what? As soon as it dried, the wall art was visible again. It just won’t fucking go away! And of course, he’s still in denial, saying it will get covered with spray paint, but no it won’t. Only painting the walls black or wallpapering will cover it. At least he got the bathroom vent working.

Yesterday morning I wished to hell I had the camera ready for that fat bitch who mooned me really good. It was barefoot, wearing a short dress as it bent over to grind out a cigarette. It obviously doesn’t believe in underwear either. Got a perfect full view of that fat ass!

I figured out how to program my stereo to play the Heart songs I like best repetitiously while I slept, but that didn’t go over very well. I kept waking up for the first few hours of sleep. I turned it off and slept well from there on out. If I’m gonna ever need music, I’m gonna have to go back to playing Gloria’s instrumental CD. That has a steadier beat, although if music pulls in next door that’s loud enough, nothing short of blasting my stereo will override it.

Later…

This is fucking unbelievable! Totally! It’s 3:00 in the morning and the freeloaders are still out there gabbing. I went out back a few minutes ago and screamed for them to shut up. I knew it wouldn’t work, but it made me feel good just to scream like that. Someone answered, “Hello? Are we really that loud?”

I told them, yeah, they were, and that I’d have them evicted. Then all I could make out through the garble of 3-4 voices was something about how they’re only human, but I didn’t want to hear anymore. I just came inside and threw the headphones on and watched a movie.

I’m telling you, no one complained. No one complained and no one ever will.

Why God?! Why me?! Why is it always next to me?! Any prayers to God for peace around here are going unanswered, as always. He wants this for me. He wants me inflicted with this shit from neighbors.

Later…

Still gabbing away non-stop. Also, I just noticed that the white car’s here behind the van now. I knew it’d be back. I forgot to say that it left quietly yesterday morning at 8:30.

These are obviously “seasonal freeloaders.” If it were December, they’d be gabbing all day and sleeping at night. At least I think they would be. You call this human, though? Normal humans don’t gab outside till 3:30 in the fucking morning, and if there’s anything I do agree with Tom on, it’s that no, they don’t mind getting evicted. If you’re gonna be out gabbing at this hour, you can’t be worried about getting evicted, and if you are stupid enough to be out gabbing at this hour, and someone threatens you with eviction, and you still gab on, then you really don’t mind being evicted.

This is not a good moving sign. Between the freeloaders and the wall art crisis and other setbacks, this is not a good moving sign at all. I really hope Tom will write the letters now and stop assuming too much. I mean, what if we are here till September? Or even later? I’m not putting up with their shit that long. No way!

If the kids are sleeping while they’re up yacking away all night, who watches them during the daytime?

I woke up at 107 pounds, and haven’t had much of an appetite. First time I’ve been this low in ages, but you can thank the freeloaders for it. It’s cuz of the stress from their shit. Whenever the fuck we get out of here, I’m sure I’ll be struggling like hell to keep from going over 110 pounds.

I was eating popcorn when the bracket let go. I doubt the popcorn did it, cuz I’ve been eating it ever since the braces went on and that was over a year ago, but just in case, I’m having more graham crackers and less popcorn. There are fewer calories in a serving of bite-size graham crackers than in a bag of popcorn, although you certainly don’t get as much. Still, it should be filling enough as a snack. If I have two servings a day that is a couple of hundred calories each, a couple of 200-calorie TV dinners, and a banana or two, that should keep me from going over 110 once the stress comes off. No wonder I was so thin back east and when I first got here!

I’m just too stressed out to do much when I’m not writing or listening to music. I can’t concentrate on reading. All I do is sit and stare at the wall sometimes. I keep reminding myself that we will be moving. It may not be soon enough, but it’ll happen. It doesn’t seem to reassure and calm me as much as I’d like.

Later…

And the lovely freeloaders continue to ramble on. How is it that the dogs haven’t been going off all night cuz of these freeloaders?

I wonder if these freeloaders are my present from God for having the hoop removed. Maybe he would’ve been more lenient with me with neighbors if I hadn’t gone against him, so to speak, and had it removed. Like I said, if I don’t take what he gives me, I’m really in for trouble.

Later…

Although somewhat quieter, the freeloaders are still out back. This time, I went out back now that it was getting light. I could smell that they were doing laundry. I thought you couldn’t raise kids if you were like me - no routine, schedule, or structure? Well, there are not just an awful lot of kids over there. There are an awful lot of adults over there, too. Maybe the adults that are up are childless, but I’ve never heard of a childless freeloader. They start breeding practically as soon as they hit puberty, and they don’t stop till menopause.

I wonder - is the white car gonna be here every night? Or just during weekends? Will the freeloaders be out back every night from here on out while we’re still here?

SATURDAY, JUNE 19, 1999 The van’s been gone an hour and a half. This is the longest it’s stayed out this late that I know of. What if they went to Mexico or somewhere and are having the people with the Ranchero and white car babysit their many mistakes? That’d be all I’d need! Unless they’re not back by 2:00, I’ll assume the van will be returning, then the white car and the Ranchero can bass out. They don’t mind waking up the kids. They don’t just shit on others. They shit on each other, too.

Why has God been so obsessed with using kids and music against me like he has since 1992? Why?! The kids are easier to deal with than the bass, and people attached to me that live directly next to or above me like in the NHA and the apartments I had here. But still, I just don’t get it. God’s obviously not using the kids to show me that he has that planned for me, too. I’ve known all my life I was destined to be childless, like it or not, and 6 years of unprotected sex with a virtually cumless dick has proved that. Maybe God just felt that knowing I wasn’t going to have kids, he felt it wasn’t fair that I live my whole life without a taste of what it’s like to have them close by. Well, believe me, God, I know what it’s like!

Good. The van’s back. Now can we just pack it in for the night and be done with all this shit till tomorrow night so I can have some peace and concentrate on things I want to do?

Anyway, the only reason I can think of as to why God would sic the music on me is due to people I’ve bugged with my stereo, like my old neighbors on Oswego Street and Woodside Terrace (the first time I lived there). If this is the case, once again, it just goes to show how I have to get what I gave many times over. If I make one prank phone call, I get four. Get it? There’s no way in hell anyone could’ve been as bothered by my music as I’ve been by other people’s music. No way. Not even close. There’s no comparison between the stereos I had back in the mid to late 80s, and these bassy car stereos and that band that used to play across the street. If you played the stereo I had back then full blast, it still couldn’t come close to the volume of one of these car stereos playing softly.

It’s almost 1 AM. Makes me wonder if the white car and the Ranchero, or at least one of them, will be staying overnight. They may be too doped up to leave, but if that white car wants out, the van’s gonna have to move first.

Tom was right about Mexican music being less bassy. I heard plenty of bass, don’t get me wrong, but I heard more drums than bass. It doesn’t matter, though. Drums on these stereos are just like bass - they both sound like someone’s hammering your walls. I’m sleeping with my stereo on for damn sure. I know they’re gonna wake me up. It seems only inevitable. It also seems only logical that that’d be just what the Gods would order, too.

Later…

I can’t see for sure, but it looks like the Ranchero left.

It’s a damn shame these sick fucks have so many laws on their side. These fuckeroos are next to impossible to evict, and even if we could have them out of here tomorrow - they’ll just turn around and have people move in that are just like these assholes and the last ones, too. It’s a widespread, endless cycle. And of course, their millions of kids grow up to be just as fucked up, if they stay alive and out of jail.

Tom caught Melanie’s call to remind me of our Monday appointment and told her the scoop. She said it’s a common thing, go ahead and keep it waxed in place, and she’ll glue it back Monday.

Later…

The van left again, but the white car is still there. Just where the fuck do these people need to go 50 times a day and is the white car staying overnight or what?

I brought up the idea to Tom (in a phone msg) of us exploring and experimenting with sex stimulants when we move, figuring that if we use lubricants, why not try stimulants, too? I have a feeling, though, that this stuck-in-a-rut kind of guy here won’t want to bother, but OK. I have vibrators to spice things up. I still say that the vibrators do the trick for me better than he can, anyway. They’re more reliable. They don’t work, they don’t sleep, they’re always on my schedule available when I want them, and they don’t have a million excuses.

Anyway, all he said in his reply was that he wanted fun when he got up. Says he deserves it and that I owe him that. No prob. I just hope my crotch won’t mind, cuz we skipped last weekend. I wouldn’t be too surprised if he came either, cuz I’m getting close to a period.

He also said that he’s gonna work 8 hours on Saturday, 6 on Sunday, then evaluate where we are and decide the rest of the week from there. I feel like we’ve got a long way to go yet. We haven’t even bought the land yet! If we could just finish this fucking painting and cover this fucking wall art I never thought I’d regret doing so badly!

Later…

The van’s back and the white car’s still here. The front light’s off, though, so that tells me all the more that the white car’s staying overnight. The fact that I’ve never seen this car before worries me. What if one of the adults living over there just got this car and what if it’s here to stay? I saw two people get out of this car, but that doesn’t matter. The passenger could’ve been a friend. These subsided blacks and Mexicans know a whole shitload of people.

Just a few more days and the city and the mayor will be hearing from us. But is Tom right for sure? Will it worsen things? Do they really not mind getting evicted? Or will it have the same effect on them as on the blacks? I tend to agree with Tom. Not just for the reasons he does, but because I’ve learned that just because something works once, doesn’t mean it will again. In fact, it’s usually just the opposite. What brought good results once tends to bring negative results the second time around. Or at least with the second batch of assholes. Well, it took two letters for the blacks to get it, so maybe after our 10th letter, the fucks will either shut up or move out.

Later…

No, he won’t be cumming. He’s gone to “do a duty” before we get together, so that tells me something right there. It’s just a gut feeling, know what I mean? He took the little computer in to play Hearts, he says, but I still wouldn’t be surprised if he got relief out of the way first, but again, it’s best that he does. Despite what’s destined, a man shouldn’t cum in a woman that doesn’t want kids if they’re not gonna use birth control.

FRIDAY, JUNE 18, 1999 OK, now that I’ve had time to calm down somewhat, I’ll update the latest batch of shit I’ve had to deal with.

First, though, next door seemed to have taken their antics indoors at about 11:30, and the van made its last trip in and out at around that time, too. At my last 1 AM check, I could see the glow of a TV coming from over there. See, I really think they’ve got themselves scheduled by the weather. I knew there was no way they’d stay inside just because it was hotter and more humid. They’ve got to get the neighborhood’s attention. Apparently, they’re sleeping in later and going out when it’s cooler. They might be sleeping till late afternoon.

Well, we’ll be taking care of the freeloaders, but meanwhile, enough of them and onto other things.

One of my brackets popped off. At first I thought it was gonna be a big deal and something I couldn’t live with till Monday that’d have to be dealt with like now. However, I waxed it and it’s holding it in place well enough till I can get in to see Mel Monday. Tom says he’s still gonna try to be here when they call tomorrow, tell them what the scoop is, and see what they recommend. I think it’ll hold till Monday with the wax, and fortunately, it’s the second tooth from the back, so I can eat on the other side of my mouth. If it were a front incisor, rather than a back molar, I’d have to have only liquid foods, not that that’d kill me to do if I had to.

Later…

I checked just before 2 AM and the lights are out. Maybe they are up during the day, but just don’t go outside. Or maybe I don’t hear them if they’re out. I didn’t know they were out till I went to check on Shiny. With the fan on, I couldn’t hear them. With the AC running and not the cooler, I couldn’t smell their food. As Tom suggested, maybe I ought to just stay inside and fan them out. That way, I won’t have to know they exist and burn with rage and want to go kill them.

My idea to sand the wall art was a bust. Tom’s new plan is to go around and paint the walls and ceiling completely. No more playing games, he says. Then, he’s gonna spray paint the wall art. He says that’ll cover it cuz you can get more on that way. I hope so! He says we’re still on for early August. I really, really hope so!!!

Later…

Another day with the freeloaders to deal with.

I didn’t get up till 8:00, their peak time these days. Tom said he hadn’t heard anything since being home at around 9 AM. That kind of didn’t surprise me. They didn’t start up till 10:00. It’s only just after 10:30 now, and I’m sure they’ll be up doing God knows what till around 1:30.

At 10:00, a white car I’ve never seen before came blasting in. It sat in the driveway for a couple of minutes to let the neighborhood know it had arrived, and by the time I got out there and screamed to keep it down, I didn’t want to know they exist, and that I was to have them evicted, the cock was walking towards the house. It glanced at me for a second without a word, then kept on walking.

A few minutes later, I thought it was leaving, but it obviously came out to test/bait me, along with 3-4 of the Mexicans that live there, then they deserted the car which is still out there. The weird thing about it was that they only based me out for barely half a minute. Just as I was on my way out there to really raise some hell of my own, the music stopped. The people stayed, though. I couldn’t make out a word they were saying, but I can guess what must’ve been said. Something like, “Go ahead. Have us evicted. We don’t care.” Or “No one can get us evicted. We can do anything we want and get away with it, too.” Yeah, well if this is what they think, they’re gonna learn the hard way how wrong they are.

I was surprised to see the van leave as early as 6 AM yesterday, just 6 hours after its last trip. Just when do these people sleep?

Anyway, I haven’t heard anyone hanging out back yet, but I’m sure I’ll know it when this white car leaves.

All I know is that I’m being severely compensated for the two months that house was empty, just like I knew I would. Something’s really out to get me good lately, and I don’t know why.

My stereo conked out again on me yesterday, but thankfully, Tom fixed it. God’s really on a let’s-get-Jodi spree now. So let me guess - he’s gonna have that white car return tomorrow earlier so it can wake me up, right? But why?! Why is God letting this happen?! What did I ever do to these people? And the last people? And the last? I thought people were supposed to only have people harassing them who did something to deserve it first. Well, that’s the way it should be, but it’s obviously not. People just don’t know when to give up, either. They pick and pick and pick. They just don’t know when to quit provoking.

I’d still like to know what I ever did to these people. Why does God insist on throwing these people on me like this? I don’t even know these people. Why can’t God allow me to be left alone? And just what will he have done to me for moving away from these people he seems so desperate to sic upon me?

I think Tom’s right - these blatant fucks are blatantly illegal, and now that they know they have enemies (which they obviously sought out as an excuse to badger people all the more), they’re gonna really live it up at our expense, and I’m sure they’ll insist that this white car visit more often now, too. How I’m gonna keep from killing these people, beats me. I’m so pissed right now and my adrenaline is so pumped up that I could probably take on a champion boxer. Okay, so not literally but these people just don’t care and they just don’t get it. They really are extremists.

Later…

These people are just as weird as the renters and the blacks, only ten times more fucked.

See, it’s in the middle of the day for these people. It’ll be a few more hours before things die down around here. The Ranchero decided to make a visit. The white car and the van backed out of the driveway. The van took off somewhere. After a few minutes of shouting, the white car pulled into the driveway. The Ranchero stayed on the street. Both the white car and the Ranchero have bassy stereos, so which one was playing music, which was shockingly sort of soft, I can’t say for sure, but I’ll bet it was the white car. The Ranchero, also shockingly, was only here for a few minutes (but will probably be back). I heard a shitload of voices hollering at each other.

Later…

I was right. The Ranchero’s back.

Later…

It used to be that these freeloaders wouldn’t slam doors and hang out in cars like the blacks did, but not anymore. There are at least two adults who went to hang out in the Ranchero, play a little bass, and so did their kids. Kids running around at nearly midnight in nothing but diapers! It’s sick! Fucking sick!

I hope one of their kids gets killed. Not only would the kid be better off dead, but maybe that’s what it’d take to teach them a lesson, although I doubt it. As long as there are Mexicans and blacks in this world, there’ll be trouble. If God would erase the Mexican and black population completely, he’d solve half our problems. I’m not saying there isn’t a lot of white trash out there, but how many good Mexicans and blacks do you know? I’ve met quite a few of these people and I can count the good ones on just one hand.

I saw the guy that talked to us and them walking around the other day. Tom was right when he said he walks around the neighborhood a lot.

Which of the 3 is the case here so far? 1. No one complained to the city. 2. Someone complained and the city didn’t talk to them. 3. Someone complained, the city talked to them, and true to what Tom said would be the case, they just don’t give a damn. I have a feeling it’s the first one that’s the case. Why must everything be up to us and dumped on our shoulders, huh?

Later…

The white car just left. Thank God! And please God, don’t let it come back in 10 minutes! I’m sure it’ll be back tomorrow, as it is. When the car started up, the music was a little loud, but get this - after just 3 beats, it turned it off. It turned it off! I couldn’t believe it! The Ranchero’s still here and the van’s still out unless it slipped in without my noticing it. I can’t believe that God doesn’t have this van, the vehicle that lives here, bass in and out 20 times a day. I wonder if it’ll start, though. That’d surely make things twice as bad if not more. If the Ranchero and the white car bang in and out regularly, though, that’ll make up for the lack of bass coming from the van.

Later…

Oh, God! I should’ve known better. The white car’s back. It came in with soft music. Why God? Why me?! What did I ever do to these assholes to deserve this?! There’s no doubt in my mind, though, that all these cars’ trips in and out are to get drugs. All that keeps going through my head over and over again is - bitch, why’d you have to move!

THURSDAY, JUNE 17, 1999 I haven’t heard from Andy since Monday, if I’m remembering correctly. He knows. He knows we’re basically finished. Who knows why he hasn’t called for sure; perhaps he’s waiting for the weekend, but I won’t call him till I hear from him. I want to see if I’m right or not about his not mentioning a damn thing about our anniversary before I go reminding him how it’s just as easy to be offended by him. I mean, he says he’s my “best friend” and he doesn’t even call and wish us a happy anniversary? Please! Some “best” friend. It’s not just about his being jealous, it’s about his being the typical selfish person Andy is famous for being.

It was pretty funny the other day how I reached to open a kitchen cabinet and ended up with half a handle in my hand (the door stayed closed). The middle chunk of the handle broke apart and let go, so we’ve got to replace that handle.

As I knew would be the case, we’re still having a hell of a time covering this fucking wall art I wish to hell I never did, even with the primer, but I got an idea. Tom said he didn’t think of it, which surprised me. I figured that if I thought of it, he must’ve too, but nope. Anyway, I thought we ought to take that sanding block, which only strips what’s on a wall and not the wall itself, and maybe that way we can get through the stubborn parts. The reds, oranges, blues, browns, blacks, and darker colors, just won’t budge. Tom isn’t sure this will work but is definitely willing to give it a try. I’m hoping to hell it will work without adding another week to our sentence here, but with our luck, something or another will keep us here into September, although it doesn’t look that way right now. But we need to get through this painting! If we could just get the inside painted, and the outside trim painted, we’re virtually home-free and ready to sell. Well, there are worse places to be than here on N. 21 Ave.

There was an ad in the Penny Saver with a good deal on a house on a 3.3-acre parcel of land with irrigation and all that, that Tom intends to call about on Monday. He said he was going to wait till Monday cuz he was tired of not being called back. Well, something just hit me - maybe he’s not being called back for a reason. Remember how God had people missing phone calls by seconds on other apartments for me in Connecticut? Well, of course, God knew it was my time to come out here. Well, maybe, just maybe, God is on our side about getting the model we want.

The rental’s still empty, and I wish God would keep it that way while we’re still here, but as I write this, I’m sure God’s up there looking down at me saying, keep dreaming!

The only thing I’ve seen from next door this week is a cock that lives there that came out at 7 PM and mowed. I guess they do have a mower. The weird part was that only 1 kid was out there, too. Not 4 or more. It was about 3 years old, playing in the driveway, stark naked except for its underwear.

Also, the van was there last night. I either just didn’t see it when I wrote my last report, or it was out. They didn’t hit the sack over there till around 12:30.

Tonight, the living room window blind that’s deeper in the carport is drawn shut. The other’s open and I can see straight through to the inside of their front door. They have shelves with God only knows what by that window. Some time I’ll take the binoculars and see if I can see what.

Tom says that if the weekend’s like today, no one will be hanging outdoors. He said it’s like we’ve skipped summer and went straight into the monsoons which aren’t supposed to be till August. It’s very humid out and definitely hotter than last Saturday. We’ll see, but I still say that even if there’s no music, not a ton of cars, no adults out, the kids will be. They’ll be outside screaming all day. There’ll be some sort of ruckus, and I’m not even gonna wait for them to act up. As soon as I get up, on goes the stereo. I may sleep through most of their wild times, though (God help them if they wake me up!). I’m trying to roll my schedule over for Melanie’s appointment on Monday.

Here’s something astounding - I don’t think they had company yesterday or today. From what I could see and remember, there wasn’t any other vehicle but the van.

Another thing that’s sort of surprising is that I haven’t seen the city come out. You’d think that by now, with all these fucking party animals, there’d be something to fix. They should go out and inspect a week or two after someone’s moved into their houses to make sure they’re sticking to the rules, but maybe they just don’t give a damn. They’re just too damn trusting and too damn naïve. Mexicans and blacks live to break rules, and I still can’t believe there’s no dog over there yet.

What I don’t get is why these freeloaders seem to act like they work. From what I’ve seen so far, they seem to have the bulk of their company and shit going on during weekends, just like with the blacks. Maybe their cronies actually work.

Later…

Typical, typical Mexican, I swear! This is just like on Oswego Street in "Puerto Rico." The air cleaner’s on, so naturally, I thought that at this hour, all would be quiet, but boy was I wrong. I went out back to see if I could coax the cat in to eat and got an earful of screams from the kids next door. They’re out barbecuing or something since I could smell food. Meanwhile, the backyard’s infested with screaming kids and I could hear adults, too. I screamed and got a scream from one of their many mistakes in return, along with laughter like it was some big fucking joke to them. What are these freeloaders gonna do - spend hours outdoors at night since it’s too hot and humid during the day? Thanks, God. Thanks a real fucking lot! In fact, they’re probably sleeping in late, just so they can be out at night. Anything to get attention and stand out like a sore fucking thumb. Fucking motherfucking freeloaders, I HATE them!

I can’t wait to see the letter to the city Tom’s gonna write. Why the fuck did that bitch have to move?! Even months after she’s gone she’s still pissing me the fuck off!

Even if these people were normal and quiet, I’d still be pissed at having to pay my tax dollars to these people just so they can sit around all day. Why can’t they get up off their lazy asses and work and support their own fucking needs?! Let them take care of their own damn kids!

Later…

Just went outside to do another “sound check.” I didn’t hear any kids this time. Just an adult female laughing. Yeah, sit on your fat ass and laugh at our expense bitch, but enjoy it while it lasts, you mother-fucking cunt, cuz I’m gonna set you straight before too long!

Later…

Next door is still going strong. What? Is it really a Saturday afternoon out there right now? I caught one of them peering over the wall, but couldn’t tell if it was an adult or not. It was too dark. I thought I heard what could’ve been a chair moving right after it saw that I saw it, suggesting it was a kid that climbed up to peer over, then ducked and jumped down when it saw me. Well, adults or kids, they can peer over all they want. If I catch any of them in the yard, though, they’ll learn in seconds what a grave mistake that was and that they picked the wrong yard. We better not have anything of value out in the yard or they’ll steal it for sure. They may even steal something that isn’t of value just to be stealing. These people don’t have brains enough to think their crimes through. They act on impulse and will risk their lives just for the sake of spontaneously stealing a fucking gum wrapper.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 16, 1999 God, the constant biting gets frustrating! Every day I bite myself or get pinched by these braces, and I’m so sick of it! I had planned to quit the Tic-Tacs and just chew gum after the braces come off, but I don’t know. Not if that means I’ll be biting the fuck out of myself. The more I chew something, the more I get bit up. It not only doesn’t tickle, but the area that gets bit swells up and makes it harder to chew around.

Tom got primer, and as my vibes said, it doesn’t seem to really help a lot. It looks like we’re gonna have to spray paint since that puts a lot more paint on. If that doesn’t work, I guess we’ll have to either go with a darker color or wallpaper. Why the fuck did I ever have to do this wall art?!

The assholes next door have been home for the most part, as usual, sitting on their asses. The van’s on one of its many trips out right now, though.

God, do I dread this weekend!

I’m reconsidering the exercise machine once again. Maybe I should get it and just build. That doesn’t take numerous hours a day like shaping/toning does. I’ll just have too much muscle rather than too much fat, but I think that if most of us had to choose which one we had an excess of, it’d be the muscle.

As I was doing some printing yesterday, I noticed that the second to last call made by Tammy was on the 5th. Well, of course. The day before Doe’s birthday. She was calling to pressure me into calling Doe on her birthday. The last call still has me baffled, but my guess is that rather than deal with acknowledging my letter and going off on me about it like she probably intended to do that time she tried calling twice, she decided she’d play dumb with the hopes that things would carry on as usual so she wouldn’t have to deal with it.

Later…

I made the mistake of calling Tammy back, who still insists on calling. I figured I could hold her off and keep her at arm’s length at least till we moved, but from here on out, if she calls again, I’m ignoring her just like with the others for damn sure. There’s nothing anyone can do to ever get me to talk to her again, any more than with the others. I’ve had it for good with anyone named O or G, and that includes Lisa. I hate to give her up, but I have no choice and again, sometimes you have to give up the good in order to give up the bad. Reuniting with her when she’s an adult and on her own would only open up an old can of worms, bringing the past and its people with it, to haunt me all over again. I’m haunted enough as it is. For the rest of my life, I’ll have to deal with thoughts and memories of these people popping into my head at any given time of the day and tormenting me, and this is hard enough to live with.

She called swearing that she wasn’t dumping me and that she wasn’t trying to pressure me into doing anything I didn’t want to do (could’ve fooled me!). All she wanted to do was talk about her feelings. She said she doesn’t give a fuck about Ma, but that she still has feelings for Dad. Well, that’s between her and him, as it is, but I understand we can’t help our feelings. Then she started to tell me something about his carotid artery, making his throat and vocal muscles paralyzed. She said he can talk, but it’s very hard for him and that he’s hard to understand (oh, so they called me a few weeks ago so I could feel sorry for them, huh? They figured they’d use a little pity trip as a way of snaring back into their sick little web of abuse and going through the same old sick cycle). This is when I came out and told her that due to her hyping things up in the past, I had no way of believing or knowing just how ill someone really was when the report was coming from her. She told everyone she was dying when she lived in Texas. She blamed that one on having no self-esteem. Well, I was no angel myself, and I had no self-esteem for a while there either, but I didn’t go around telling people I was dying.

The fact that I felt no emotion whatsoever over Art’s condition, tells me all the more how badly he and his associates have hurt me time and time again. It may take years, but you can only fuck with your kids so many times before they’ll be gone forever. I just thank God he wouldn’t allow me kids so that this cycle could be broken, cuz it won’t break with Tammy. Larry’s nothing like Dureen and Art was, fortunately, but that’s only when the whoring wimp’s home.

Anyway, our conversation ended with her asking for examples of how she’s hyped things up. After the dying in Texas incident, I told her I didn’t buy Bill’s so-called cancer for a minute, and this is when she screamed oh, fuck off and hung up. Well, Tammy, that’s exactly what I’ll do. In fact, I’ll make damn sure to fuck off for the rest of your life. I promise. You asked for it, you got it. Meanwhile, you’ll have to talk to someone else about your feelings. I don’t need any more shit from these people and 33 years of it is more than enough.

I watched Tom’s father struggle with cancer until he died. I saw what it did to him. Meanwhile, Bill’s not only alive, but his health is just wonderful. According to what Tom and I read about lymphoma online, he should be long dead, not that I wish he weren’t.

The very beginning of our little chat started out with her not knowing we were seriously moving (not a word about our anniversary). Oh yeah, we’re damn serious. We just can’t get the fuck out of here fast enough! With our luck, we really will be here till September or even October. Even 7-8 more weeks seems like a year.

Later…

I added Tammy to my mailing list, so that’s Tammy, Larry, the folks, the bitch, the freeloaders, the collie people, and Andy that’ll be hearing from me one last time when we move. 1 manila envelope to Tammy, 1 to Larry, 1 to the folks, 1 to Andy, and 2 to the bitch. 3 regular envelopes to the Mexicans and 1 to the collie people. A total of 10 pieces. I also inserted a couple of sheets of old journal shit in the envelopes I had printed pictures on the backs of, so Bob will get a total of 6 and Paula will get 15. I’ll send them out weekly.

Our freeloaders are doing a different routine tonight. Instead of lights out by 8:00 with the blinds drawn and the van there for the night, their blinds are open, I can see a light down the hall that may be coming from one of the bedrooms (there are 2 in front/1 in back), and the van is nowhere in sight. Maybe the late-night scream I gave them has them a little on guard.

I’m surprised I haven’t seen the little kids outside playing in the late afternoons lately. Maybe they do get a little sensitive to temps over 100º.

TUESDAY, JUNE 15, 1999 Half a decade married! It’s been a great half a decade, that’s for sure. Despite his being a disorganized slob and not very good in bed, I couldn’t be more blessed.

He picked up some primer today for the wall art. I knew we’d have trouble covering most of the Goddamn wall art I wish to hell I never did. He picked up a couple of gallons of it and I hope it works. He’s gonna put a coat of it on the wall art tomorrow.

I’ve seen the people that own the house across the street over there, and I saw a jeep pull in there last night. All it did was pull in, sit for a few minutes, then leave. Right now it appears empty, but I’m sure that soon enough the new batch of kids will arrive. Maybe, though, the owners will be pickier with whom they rent this time around. I know we’re not gonna be here much longer, but I don’t want a dog barking non-stop from right across there!

Again, from what I could see, it was lights out next door at 8:00. Why so early? Well, not all of them were early on hitting the sack. Some kid was dropped off at 1:30 AM in two cars. Why it took two cars to drop off this boy of 18-21 who’s definitely not supposed to be there, beats me.

I typed a brief yet perfect little get-the-fuck-out-lazies!/I’m-gonna-report-you-to-the-city letter that I was gonna claim was from that guy we saw talking to them that also talked to Tom, and tape it to the back of their van at 3 AM last night, but I chickened out. Not because I feared what they’d do if they saw me, but because it’d be just my shit luck that they’d come to this door inquiring about it and maybe asking if we knew this man when Tom was home and awake. Naturally, all we’d have to do is deny knowing a damn thing about it, but the paranoia it’d bring upon Tom may very well kill him. So, instead of typing it to ‘Resident’ at their address with no return address, I handwrote a bogus name, put the return address as being across the street and a few houses down, and then in the lower-left corner of the envelope, I wrote: $10 Wal-Mart certificate enclosed. This way, just in case they would’ve thrown the envelope away seeing that it wasn’t addressed to them, they should at least want that certificate.

I can’t believe the mailman hasn’t given me a piece of their mail yet! Most of the mail we get that isn’t ours, although it improved after the 10th complaint, is to N. 21 Dr.

Anyway, the Mexicans will be getting 3 envelopes from me. I decided they should read up on their party review, after all.

Tom sees I was right - no one next door works. He suggested that the guy with the van could be on disability, but admits that it’d be unlikely for a couple to be on disability together. I don’t think they are. I think she’s on welfare and that he’s just freeloading off of her and that he got that van illegally.

Later…

Got an anniversary card from Kim. That was nice of her to remember, unlike someone who’s supposed to be my best friend. That is unless he calls later. I wouldn’t be surprised if he did call later, only I doubt he’ll even acknowledge our anniversary. A part of that could be his jealousy, though, and not just his pot brain with its dead memory cells and his being wrapped up in his own self. A friend shouldn’t have to get another friend a gift, or even send a card on birthdays and anniversaries, but a simple, quick phone call would be nice. A simple “happy anniversary.” But you know how it is, you can’t make people care about things they just don’t care about.

Guess I didn’t re-offend him by sending him the last letter I sent him clarifying what I meant by his jumping from subject to subject. Personally, I wouldn’t have cared if I did. I have better things to do than smooth over any ruffled feathers Andy might have and I’m just not in the mood to smooth over his poor little hurt feelings right now if he’s got any.

Later…

The freeloaders look like they may be getting their yard done now, although I don’t hear anything. There’s an old beat-up truck with a cage-like back that’s parked on the street in front of their house. I was wondering when they were gonna stop watering and start cutting that grass. Could just be one of the many assholes that visit them, though.

I hope it’s as hot as they say it’s going to be this weekend, although I’m sure they’ll still be outside acting like wild little assholes, blaring music from their house. At least half a dozen cars will have to visit, too. Everybody’s always gotta go next door. Next door just can’t go to them. If it’s not as rowdy as last Saturday, then it’ll be like Sunday was. Sunday was in between Saturday’s nightmare and yesterday’s and today’s peace. In fact, if they were like they have been today and yesterday every day that we’re still here, we’d have it made, but that’s just not gonna happen. They said it was supposed to be 102º the day they partied, but Tom said it couldn’t have even hit 100º. They say this weekend’s to be 105º. A little hotter, if not much, but like I said, still won’t keep them from ruling the outdoors.

MONDAY, JUNE 14, 1999 I’ve got a ton of stuff to write about. A ton! I may not remember everything in the first shot, so I may have to come back and make additions as more things come to me. I wasn’t in a good frame of mind to take notes for the most part, and yes, it has to do with our wonderful freeloaders. Besides the lovely welfare bums, though, I was quite busy. Before getting to next door, let me get other things out of the way first.

I’m having second thoughts about an exercise machine. It’d take hours and hours of working out every day to get the ideal body and to really make a difference in my muscle tone and my appearance. I just don’t have the desire to work out 8 hours a day. I’m never gonna be smaller than I have been the last 6-7 months, and I’m never gonna be under 108 pounds again, either. Not without starving or being ill. So, it’s best I just accept that and do the best I can to maintain the muscle and appearance I’ve got now, but I’m not gonna drive myself crazy with it and slave myself 8 hours a day. I’ll never be thin again and that’s that.

I’m hoping to get Trio 2 sometime soon. I forgot about that till I remembered it the other day. That’s the second album Linda, Dolly, and Emmylou did together. They put out their first one in ‘87 when I was living on Oswego Sreet in Springfield.

That wasn’t Andy who called Saturday morning when I last wrote. I was surprised he didn’t call me on Saturday, though. He chose Sunday evening instead. He told me that he and Michelle had been having fun going to gay bars.

I did get a call on Saturday morning from someone else, though. I got up at 8:00 that morning and saw that my dear old sister called. When I went to listen to her message, I got the exact opposite of what I expected to hear. I expected her to really lay into me and cuss me out and cut me down in every way possible, but instead, all she said was hi, hope to talk to you guys soon. What’s going on here? Is she playing dumb, or did she not get my fuck you letter? Well, in hopes of keeping her at a distance till we can split, I sent her a letter saying that I just needed time and would contact her once we moved, but as you know, I’ll do no such thing.

The last 3 days we spent painting the house. Tom was sandblasting the pool steps, too. It’s got a way to go but is moving along sure enough. He packed some more in the back room and took the shelves down that were bracketed to one wall.

We decided to celebrate our anniversary on his birthday. We’ll go to Red Lobster that day, and to Wal-Mart to pick each other up some cheap little $10 gift. We don’t want to be spending any money right now what with the move coming up, and you know how we are - just being together, happy and healthy, is what matters most.

OK, freeloader update - the nightmare began just after I last wrote last Saturday morning. The only thing they haven’t taken from me yet is my sleep. And they also haven’t gotten that dog yet or blasted in and out with car stereos, but they certainly took my peace away from me last Saturday. That’s the only credit I can give these sick, sorry, motherfuckers I’d like to kill so bad. God, I am so sick of blacks, Mexicans, Mormons, and assholes!!!! Someone’s gotta set these fuckers straight. They’ve got to be taught that having a subsidized house is not a ticket to making a scene for the whole neighborhood.

Saturday was like having the blacks and Mormons all over again all rolled into one. The ironic part of it was that this wild party followed the party the blacks had back in June of ‘96 to a T, with the exception of the car stereos. The similarity in it was almost scary, but that’s what you get when you got blacks or Mexicans on your shoulders. I never hated them as much as I do now. They are the rudest, hateful, mean, selfish, subhuman species I’ve ever known, and God should be ashamed of himself for creating such fucking assholes! What did I ever do to these assholes for God to sic them on me as he has?!

The party was also on a Saturday, it also was in June (the 8th rather than the 12th), they too, had a zillion cars over there, they partied for 12 hours, they barbecued, they played music from their house, and a ton of adult and kid’s voices could be heard carrying on throughout the whole ordeal. Like I said, the party was almost identical to the blacks.

Just when I was thinking that these people just might be OK after all, what with God knowing we’re moving soon, I found out the hard way how wrong I was, and boy was it hard to restrain myself. I wanted to let them have it soooooo bad with no regard to Tom’s reminding me that no human being can beat up 16 people. I was too mad to care. Yeah, I probably would’ve gotten my ass kicked, but it would’ve been worth it. These freeloaders don’t know just how lucky they are, though. It’s only because it’s temporary (besides Tom’s wanting to always do things the legal way) but had we no plans to move, you bet I’d lose it on them! I’m so sick of these fucking freeloaders partying at our expense. We pay for them to sit on their asses all day and they treat us like shit in return for it. When is this country gonna wake the fuck up and change its totally unfair laws?! These scum suckers have got to go. We can’t keep supporting them for 3 or more years at a time and have them carry on in society the way they do. No wonder there are so many racists! Well, the hatred they get is exactly what they ask for. They get what they deserve when they encounter racism. If they learned how to carry on like respectful, productive, normal, non-selfish, non-destructive, non-lazy human beings, then maybe people would see them in a different light. Meanwhile, you carry on like a fucking selfish asshole, desperate for attention, no one’s going to like you or give a damn. From here on out, I don’t care if they see me spying on them, I don’t care if they hear me singing at night, I don’t care what they think about the complaints the city’s gonna receive on them, but I’ll tell you one thing right now and this is a fact, not a threat - if any of these assholes come to my door, the reaction won’t be just verbal like it was with that black bitch. There’ll be no words coming out of my mouth and I don’t care if there are 50 of them.

There’s a chance they may get complained about by others, too. That guy who asked Tom what the story was with them was talking to one of the people who attended the party, and he might be lodging a complaint. We think he was trying to weed out any info he could from the guy. Also, their rowdiness set off someone’s house alarm in back somewhere. The reason we’re gonna wait till next week to send off our letter is so that the city doesn’t think we mistook their noise for moving-in noise. By then these losers will have been here 3 weeks. Also, Tom wants to wait till we get closer to moving, cuz he thinks that they’ll react just the opposite of the blacks. He thinks it’ll provoke them into being louder, and that they’re “blatantly illegal.” They go to extremes and push it to the limit till they can’t get away with their shit anymore, then they go elsewhere and start all over again. They don’t mind getting evicted, either. Yeah, but the city’s not gonna just keep moving them around. If they get evicted enough times, then they’re on their own, and if they’re too lazy to work, what are they gonna do? Guess they’ll have to deal drugs, won’t they? That’s probably why so many Mexicans and blacks deal in the first place. It’s easier than working. They’re just so anti-work. “Blatantly fucked” is what they are, and no matter when we move, or what they do, they’re gonna get theirs and I’m gonna see to it. No matter what happens from here on out, and regardless of the fact that they have been much quieter, the city and the mayor’s gonna be hearing from us. Someone’s gotta teach these assholes that they can’t keep up with the same old cycle of shit and that their avenues will run out on them.

Anyway, from the looks of it, Saturday was a special occasion. We thought one of the millions of kids was having a birthday party, but it may’ve been more like a housewarming party, cuz I thought I saw someone carrying a gift as they arrived, and Tom saw a box for a blender in the dumpster. I thought housewarming parties were supposed to be for those who owned houses, not rented.

At 10:00, the music began. Not from cars, but from inside the house. It didn’t have the bass that rap music has, and with no fans, you could only hear it in the music room, and faintly in the bedroom. That was enough for me, though, so I went out front just as half a dozen adults and half a dozen kids were pulled up in two cars and told them to turn the music down.

A woman said, “We don’t have any music.”

I mentioned the music coming from the house, and she said she’d tell them. Believe it or not, the music did get softer. I could still hear it in the music room, but it did actually get softer. But not right away. No, these rebellious little fucks, that are a total, total carbon copy of the phony black cock, took their sweet time in lowering it. Nothing could be heard at all over fans, the music was never close to being loud enough to wake me up, and neither was anything else they did, but we both heard enough. The illegality of it and knowing that it’s our tax dollars that lets them carry on this way is what really burned me up. And how dare God give people like this any kids let alone so many! I don’t want a kid, and he did the right thing by not allowing me one, but I swear, he wants kids to go to the fuck-ups of this world. That was obvious a long time ago, and I try not to let things that I can never change get to me, but it’s hard at times. I’d have gone after them for damn sure if I knew we weren’t moving, and I’d have been way more stressed out and tight-chested. I’d have slept like shit too, always waking up, but I slept OK. Not going to sleep till the party was breaking up helped, too. In fact, I went to sleep at the exact same time I did the night of the freeloader’s big bash.

I thought about opening the music room window and giving them a sample of my music, but as Tom said, they wouldn’t even think twice about it, cuz it’s so much a part of their lives and everyday living.

When I asked Tom what our compensation would be for the new house, since God puts strings attached to everything he lets me have and seemingly with him too, he said this is our compensation. I hope he’s right!

It just couldn’t get dark fast enough, but not even that stopped them from hanging outside yelling and screaming. I can’t believe our yard wasn’t littered like hell. They sat on their cars and were everywhere! In back, in front, in the carport, in the driveway. The house was infested with adults and kids. I knew the heat wouldn’t keep them inside, although conveniently, God’s been keeping things pretty mild around here weather-wise. I kept wishing it was December, cuz I’d think that any normal human being wouldn’t want to be out on a cold winter evening, but these people are anything but normal, and not even human as far as I’m concerned.

Let’s see…besides the 5-hour concert, there were at least a dozen cars, and of course, they kept coming and going. They’re all so fucking fat over there that they probably had to keep going to the store for hot dogs and shit like that (they were barbecuing), among lines of coke, no doubt.

For cars - there was the ranchero, the gold one, the darker gold one, some dark green one, the furniture truck, the blue pickup, a silver pickup, an older white car, a new white car, a red and white van, and more.

The voices were non-stop for 12 hours, and I almost screamed shut up out back by the wall just to make me feel better. However, I knew that if Tom heard me, he’d be paranoid that Iran’s army would come hunt us down and kill us for it.

This is really gonna hurt us trying to sell this place. These people fuck those up who just want to live their lives in peace in so many ways. No one wants to move into a Mexican neighborhood with their loud, overcrowded, selfish, rude lifestyle. I just hope God sends us someone who doesn’t mind the noise, but I know better than to ask him for any favors.

Yesterday, I heard horn-honking, a woman saying, “Fucking son of a bitch,” and the kids’ screams that would come in intermittent bouts. Like I said, it was blacks and Mormons all over again. The blue pickup was over there for a while yesterday. Just like with the bitch, they can’t go a day in their lives without some car showing up there. The fat broad in the ranchero was the visitor of today, but today’s been amazingly quiet. Today they’re pretty much back to being how they were up till Saturday. Not even the kids are out for their evening stroll in the street.

My neighbor at the Vista, Mary B, wasn’t kidding when she said that where there’s 1 there are 50 of these things. There had to have been a total of 50 people, counting adults and kids.

SATURDAY, JUNE 12, 1999 Our beautiful freeloaders have been predictable, outdoors, at home practically all the time, and have company every day. I can't believe there's only been one bout of music and that there's no dog yet, but I still have a dog vibe.

The van's been in and out already and is in and out a dozen times a day. At least, like I said before, they hop in and go. They don't slam doors a dozen times to get my attention along the way. I heard them talking in their carport, but couldn't make out anything that was said. I saw a broom handle leaning against the house and saw that their driveway was wet, so they've been watering again.

Here we go again with the weekend calls from Andy. That's OK, though, cuz if all goes well and as planned, there should only be about 8 weekends left here.

Anyway, there's a gold car here, but it's not the same gold car that the older couple drive. At least I don't think it is. It seems darker. I think that whoever drives this car has kids, but don't all freeloaders? Yesterday, about 4-5 animals were out front. Amazingly, the only sound I heard was when one of them decided to beat its hand on the basketball hoop pole that still stands.

FRIDAY, JUNE 11, 1999 This is the third morning I’ve woken up to spots. They go away after I’ve been up for a little while. It’s obviously accumulating in my sleep, then when my body’s upright after awakening, I bleed a little.

The day before yesterday I was up for 18 hours and slept for only 6 hours. I wasn’t tired, though. Yesterday I was up about 16, your normal number of hours that you’re up for, but then I only slept 5 hours. I crashed last night close to midnight and got up just before 5:00. I’m a little tired. This is good, though, cuz I’m gonna need to be on days as much as I can while we’re prepping and moving.

The bird clock’s dead already? But we just changed the batteries. Damn, those sounds really suck up the juice!

I don’t know why I’ve been calling the house I like best a Redman model when it’s a Palm Harbor. It gets hard to keep track of all the names. There’s Shultz, Redman, Cavco, Palm Harbor, and more.

Later…

The gold car just came next door, and again, I swear this old couple’s white. The guy was on crutches. It’s weird, though. Why would this seemingly well-to-do white couple want to associate with poor, lazy old scum? I don’t have a bad vibe on next door for the weekend, but unless the Ranchero or some other vehicle bangs in, I shouldn’t. That’s because I’m still pretty sure that the weekends will be just like the weekdays and when you don’t work, and none of the people you know work, your daily routine tends to be the same whether it’s the weekend or not.

The gold car’s leaving. This time, someone’s in the backseat with them. The guy’s nauseating, though. Totally anorexic. It seems that the guys I’ve seen over there are bone-thin while the women are huge. Except for the one that comes with the girl in the blue pickup.

Once again, though, just like with the blacks, all the vehicles except for the Ranchero have been nice and fairly new. Whoever it is that owns the van, does not work. I doubt they inherited the money to buy the van and laze around. They either stole the money for the van. Stole something and cashed it in so they could buy the van. Or they’re dealing drugs or doing something illegal in order to afford the van and laze off.

THURSDAY, JUNE 10, 1999 Tom said the war was over. I don’t watch the news. Too depressing. So I asked him which war he was talking about and he said we were bombing some country I’d never heard of. I asked why the slut president felt that was necessary and he said just because. That’s what’s really scary. If you can bomb innocent people in other countries, why not in your own country? People are sick enough to let their friends and family be killed just so they can take down the whole country and more. And then of course there’s our wonderful God to fear and despise for letting this happen.

Yesterday, I saw a young fat girl move the Ranchero to let the blue pickup out, driven by the fat girl and the guy. A couple of hours later, the Ranchero left. No music.

It looks like we may have more Mexicans moving in next door. There’s a gold pickup I’ve never seen before, and then the blue one was here for a while, too. The van’s been in all day. The van didn’t take off till late afternoon yesterday, but for how many times, I don’t know. Anyway, I saw tons of kids and adults carrying kids’ toys into the house. See, this is the problem with Mexicans. They cause overcrowding due to the way they breed like rabbits. Take a house, any house, and you’ve got wall-to-wall Mexicans.

Some guy was asking Tom, as he pulled in today, what the scoop was with next door. I guess we’re not the only ones who aren’t happy about it being a rental, and even more so that it’s an overcrowded rental owned by the city. So, Tom’s gonna send a letter to the city using the address we’ve been using to let them know of the overcrowding in a couple of days. If they start being noisy, the letter will go in right away, to the city and to the mayor.

I decided the pack of freeloaders isn’t worth the ink and paper, so I’ve decided to print the 15 or so pages I have on them and mail that in a regular envelope. I’m not gonna mail them all I’ll write about them while we’re here and send it to them in a manila envelope like with the blacks.

If I said it before, I’ll say it again - thank God there’s no hoop over there! I still can’t believe how quiet they’ve been though, as far as the kids go, and as far as that one bass attack being all we’ve heard so far. I just hope we’re out of here by the time the weather starts cooling down!

The fucking freeloaders are overloading the dumpster. I did say, after all, that there’s a lot of trash next door. God! Why me? Huh?! Why is it always next to me?!

Tom got the paints today (the yellow for the cabinets is called yellow rose) and we’re gonna begin painting this weekend. Right now, he thinks we can be moved by early August. I hope he’s right! At least my October vibe has faded. Even September’s a little weak, so that’s good.

Later…

Damn, these fucking distractions! I’m trying to talk to my husband, but the fucking phone which rings non-stop, just won’t fucking quit! When am I gonna be paid back enough, God? When are we going to let the past be the past and move on, huh? How much more payback do I deserve? Maybe someday he’ll forgive me for my mistakes as well as for my forefathers.

Both pickups have left, but how many people are in that house right now and how many are living there for sure, is still unclear. I just know there are close to a dozen and that most of them aren’t supposed to be there.

I forgot to mention that Tom said Butterscotch lunged at him the other night. He just charged at him when he was walking by to let Shiny out. I believe it. He is a meany. The most aggressive of the rats.

I cleaned the rat’s cage today and put newspaper in place of sawdust. I want to see how well it absorbs, how messy it is, and how much they like it, although I tend to think they don’t give a damn one way or the other. I’m hoping this will work out, cuz I’m getting a little tired of their kicking sawdust outside the cage.

Also, I cleaned the bar walls of the cage. It took me nearly 3 hours to clean it rung by rung.

I just can’t wait to move! The only sad part of it is that when we do move into that bigger, nicer, more modern home with its beautiful desert landscape and its peace and quiet, there’ll be a price to pay for it. You think God’s gonna let me have it sweet and nice with no strings attached? Think again! That’s not the way God works with me. Every good thing he lets me have has a string or two attached. I don’t know what the payment’s gonna be, though. Could be something wrong with the house, something wrong with us, more problems at work for Tom. My guess is that he’ll have things within the house, among our stuff, break or not work right. It’d be just my luck to move and find that the dishwasher doesn’t work, but at least we’ll be out of here!

I mentioned to Tom certain things I saw happening when we moved, including that the sex would remain as it has been. Then he had the nerve to say he would go down on me but was hesitant cuz he doesn’t want me to pretend I’ve cum. What a lame excuse. Why does he always have to make up some bogus excuse, or pin the blame on me, instead of just coming out and admitting that he doesn’t want to? It’s plain and simple - he doesn’t want to. He can just say so. Not make excuses.

The nerve of him, though, cuz wasn’t it him that was the pretender for a while there? Wasn’t it him that claimed to be cumming most of the time for many months till I spilled the beans on him and let him know I knew better? I told him how it was quite ironic how things changed as soon as I spilled the beans on him. When I pointed this out to him, though, he said that it comes and goes in spurts. Yeah, right. Uh-huh. Tom, you’re great at just about everything, but you’re a lousy liar. I mean how fucking convenient to say that, huh? He says the reason he hasn’t been cumming lately is cuz he’s had problems, be it colds, his back, etc. But he always has a problem. Ever since I knew him, there was a problem. Some are legit, but my gut instinct tells me that most of them were just excuses.

I hope he isn’t forgetting the important thing and that’s that he can never cum again if that’s what he wants, as long as he’s happy, doesn’t lie, or play games. I appreciate the fact that he hasn’t put me through the sexual head games he used to, like the I-forgot-how-to-screw game he used to play with me when he wouldn’t go inside.

Oh, did I tell you yet how he’s changed from guessing we’ll have a child to that being a logical thing to happen? Yeah, he feels a kid is logical cuz of how our lives are going. That’s what he said in the past several times. Well, he can stay in denial all he wants and believe what he wants, but I know two things. That it can’t happen no matter how our lives are going, and that it’s still not what I want.

Later…

The van’s made a couple of its multi-trips out.

Again, the little animals are out with the sunset. It amazes me that I can see them, but I can’t hear them.

Tom and I were talking about how mish-mashed this house is. Some of the baseboards are wood, some are vinyl. Some of the plugs/outlets are wood, some are plastic. They used two different types of wood to do the kitchen cabinets and two different shades of yellow. A darker shade for the upper cabinets and a lighter for the bottom. Then there’s the shade of yellow that’s in the tiles, and the contact paper that’s white with yellow wicker-like stripes that’s on a few of the cabinet doors. Of course, there’s also that blue/green paint I painted on, too. Then you have the disgustingly ugly floor colors of gold, dark orange, and brown.

Tom’s mom sent us an anniversary card with a $25 check.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 9, 1999 Been here for 7 years today!

More evidence has come in to make my mass ovulation theory a little more likely. I can’t say for sure, cuz I’m no expert, but I just had a big spot. I’ve noticed I tend to spot after having those mid-cycle pains. I’ve read you can bleed a little when you ovulate, so if you can bleed from ovulating one egg, imagine how you could bleed from releasing a lot of eggs. Normally, you’re not supposed to be able to feel yourself ovulate, but if the ovary wall is opening up wider than usual, with a lot of eggs going through it like a bunch of people trying to cram through a doorway, maybe you could feel it. Any kind of cyst is out of the question, cuz those grow for a long time before they hurt, and it would’ve shown up last December. Why it feels like a UT infection, though, beats me, but I find it awfully hard to believe I’m getting a UT every month at the same time of month. Also, I had no cramps. Usually, when the bleeding’s coming from the uterus, you have cramps, but I never had cramps.

If my theory is right, though, it makes no sense. It’s totally against destiny. Why would God allow me to release so many eggs at once if he knew a kid wasn’t meant to be unless the eggs were maybe dead? I can see it making sense if a kid was meant to be to bypass his not cumming, but since it’s not, I just don’t get it, if this is the case.

If God can do anything, though, and if I’m right about a kid not being meant to be, then it doesn’t matter if Tom doesn’t feel comfortable with cumming, and it doesn’t matter how many eggs I do or do not have, dead or alive.

Now I’ve got quite an update on Andy, which for the most part, isn’t very good.

We finally got to talk yesterday. I couldn’t believe he didn’t leave me any messages last weekend, but I think I know why. He started off by telling me that when he got the letter I sent to Gary’s house, he was not a happy camper and he suggested I don’t include my journal excerpts. He said I was so mean and he was offended by the following excerpt:

I first showed him my dolls, then the animals. He had trouble focusing, though, and I couldn’t get his attention to hold on to any one subject for too long. If I’d comment about the dolls, he’d ask about the rats. If I’d comment about the mice, he’d ask about objects in the back room.

When I wrote this I didn’t mean it to be “mean.” I meant it to be simply a fact like if I said I was short, I was hyper, I had asthma, etc. It was just an observation I made, and I do the same thing all the time. We both do. We’ve both always been on the hyper side and tended to repeat ourselves a lot and jump from subject to subject, and even he himself has admitted to this. It isn’t just him and I’m not saying he’s a bad person for it. I was simply stating what I perceived his state of mind to be at the time. It was sort of like he was distracted and had his mind on other things. I never meant to imply that he wasn’t paying any attention at all to the things I was saying, although yes, Andy has always had a problem with being a little on the selfish side and once again, he’s even admitted this, and has said that he’s gonna do what he wants to do.

I was right about his suspicions too, cuz I’ve dumped my sister and parents in the past and he never wondered if he was next back then. Now, though, he’s wondering if he could be next cuz I seem to have a problem with his ways, he says. There was no way I was gonna lie. I told him “I don’t know what the future holds with that.” Then I guess my dumping him won’t hit him as hard or surprise him as much.

Andy mentioned how he doesn’t dump people so easily, and he’s right. My having a hard time tolerating his ways, and my not sticking to the friendship as faithfully as he has, is my problem. In fact, if I had to pick Andy’s best quality, it’d be his sticking to friendships and not dumping people. I sort of envy him. I wish I could be as faithful and as tolerant, but on the other hand, I used to be that way and found that that was what got me in so many jambs with people. By sticking by and tolerating fuck-ups like Fran for as long as I did, I ended up having to deal with all his shit for as long as I did. Same goes for Nervous and so many others. I’m not saying I didn’t give them any shit in return, but things have changed. I think Andy’s in denial, not willing to accept that we’ve become so different from one another, but it’s true. I’m very very picky as to who I associate with nowadays, and not as tolerant as Andy is or as I used to be. I’m not saying his ways are wrong (except for the pot and the smokes, cuz it’s always wrong when we abuse our bodies) I’m just saying I’m bored, sick of, and annoyed by them, and that’s my own problem. If it’s wrong, or a weakness on my part, then so be it, but it’s not his fault.

It’s tough for me with my conflicting feelings. A part of me wants to stick by him like he’s stuck by me, not dump him, try to be more accepting and tolerant of his ways, and risk the consequences of being in his car again with his pot. Even though he’s a damn good driver, anything’s possible. The other part, the much bigger part, says to walk away for reasons that I’ve already gone through a million times.

Later…

The blue/green pickup’s here now. Also, the van apparently made its first trip in and out for the day, because it’s parked in a different spot than it was earlier.

Back to Andy. What it comes down to is that we’ve just become very different people with very different interests. I’m not saying I’m not doing some things I was doing back in the 80s, like journaling, and I’m not saying we have literally nothing in common, I’m just saying that his ways aren’t for me anymore, and I don’t want a druggie for a friend anymore. I’m just bored with his ways and I’m tired of talking to someone that’s baked out of his mind nearly every time we talk, and who just doesn’t get or remember half the things I say. Or write. He just gets on my nerves. If that makes me a Dureen, in a sense, for being so non-accepting and non-tolerating, then so be it, but I feel it’s best to walk away from him than to try to change him. I’ve politely asked him certain favors, like not eating on the phone, which I don’t think is asking too much, but to try to change everything about him that bugs me would be trying to change him. Meanwhile, he’s got other people he can call who’ll accept and tolerate his ways. Even if he backs off the phone like he has as soon as he suspected he was next, it’s still time to move on. We’ve done our time together and we’ve done what we were destined to do for each other (but I’m not always sure what I was supposed to have done for him).

Wow, it’s the 9th and I’m already on the 20th page for this month. For last month, I was only on the 4th page or so by this time.

Later…

The girl and the guy in the blue/green pickup just left. I remember seeing them when they were unloading the pickup. They’re fairly young. He’s sort of beefy and she’s your classic fat mom, but not as fat as the lady that lives there. She has long hair. It was pulled back in a ponytail with a white scrunchy.

What? Did we forget something? The pickup just came right back, then went right back out again.

We didn’t finish our discussion about his trip (cuz Tom came home and I wanted to spend a little time with him before he had to crash), but I’m very happy with him for the fact that he didn’t try contacting Tammy. I appreciate his respecting my wishes. I’m shocked he hasn’t mentioned God or food, but I’m sure he will soon enough. Again, this isn’t something I detest with a passion. So be it if he wants to tell me about God and the food he eats. Just because I think he’s delusional about God for the most part, and just because I think he’s making a pig of himself and making himself sick, doesn’t mean he’s wrong for it. He can believe what he wants and eat what he wants. It’s just that it gets old, that’s all. I still can’t figure out, though, if he’s stuffing himself to reflect Michelle onto himself, or if he’s doing it to make himself sick so he can have an excuse to avoid working.

All he really told me was that it didn’t rain on him, miraculously, but that it was hot, muggy, and cloudy the whole time he was there. He didn’t get to spend much time at the beach cuz of the cloudiness, and cuz Jenny, Gary’s girlfriend, fucked him out of having some time to himself at the cottage. So did Jenny’s stepfather. I guess he just had to do some work on a cottage wall at the time Andy wanted to be there. Then Jenny came down and took a whole slew of people along with her that live barely an hour away and that could’ve used the cottage any other time. Well, that whole family and its associates have always been notorious for being rude. Except for Marla, although she’s been rather rude to Charlotte. I agree with Andy as far as that goes - fine. Don’t be nice to Charlotte. But let the past go and don’t be rude and tell her you didn’t mean to say hello when you accidentally did cuz you thought it was someone else. I haven’t had any experience with Linda other than the phone chat we had last December, but I can see what Andy means when he says he feels like he’s walking on eggshells when he’s around her. I can see how she may be hard to deal with. This is why I haven’t contacted her as much as Marla. Judy and Al have always been phony, rude, selfish, vindictive, lying, gossiping trashholes, and the brothers are unstable little druggies themselves. Most of the family treats poor Andy like an outsider who no longer belongs cuz he’s even more different and cuz he’s moved away.

I don’t know what really happened in the 70s with our parents. Was it Judy and Al’s fault? Dureen and Art’s? Both? Don’t know and don’t care. All I’m saying is that I’ll never know for sure what went down, but I do know this - I know what these people are capable of. I’m sure they all fucked each other over. Shitfucks shit on other shitfucks all the time. An asshole for an asshole. That sort of thing. Know what I’m saying?

Meanwhile, I sent a note to Andy explaining the excerpts to hopefully smooth over his poor little feelings for now. I’m trying not to make any waves till we can get out of here. I’ll put up with a little more than I normally would, cuz it’s only for a few more months. It’s not like I don’t care about his feelings at all. I do, but at the same time, I can only spend so much time worrying about his precious, fragile feelings. I’m sure he can relate to that, too.

Speaking of precious, fragile feelings, I’m both surprised and not surprised that I haven’t gotten a call from Tammy about the letter I sent her explaining why I don’t want anything to do with her. Again, not that it’d change a damn thing, but just to express myself, which always feels good. I’m surprised cuz I know a letter like she got would upset her, but I’m not surprised cuz she probably wouldn’t want to give me the satisfaction of a reaction, but she’d be falsely flattering herself if that’s what she thought it’d be. A reaction wouldn’t satisfy me at all. No way. I don’t want to know she exists.

Anyway, the next thing I’m going to cover that Andy told me about makes me think, what a total, total loser! How desperate! What a waste of time! But hey, it’s his life. It doesn’t make it a bad thing, just because I wouldn’t want to go cross country to make out with some bar slut. He went to a new bar and made out with some guy, then had to deal with Adam’s boyfriend squeezing his ass. He didn’t want to tell Adam cuz of how happy he was. I can understand that, but poor old Adam’s happiness isn’t bound to last. He’s gotta find out sooner or later, I’d think, that his boyfriend’s a regular little whore.

I don’t know what else he did there. I’ll find out in our next conversation, but I have a feeling this is all he did.

He said that Wendy was super high all the way back there. She does major drugs like Laura did. Yeah, that’s an Andy friend for you.

He said he’s not going to be distributing notes anymore, cuz Wendy got him to see that he should be promoting peace, not terrorizing people. Good advice for a crystal druggie.

Later…

I was wrong. Tammy just tried calling twice, but I quickly picked up and hung up before a message could be left. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her I didn’t want to know she existed and that I’d erase any messages she left as soon as I heard her voice. You know how people are - gotta do the opposite of what you tell them.

An out-of-area call just came in right after the two with Mark’s number, which is typically sales, but it also says that for collect calls. Even so, I have a feeling that despite the many sales calls we get, that was Tammy trying to see if she could get through by calling collect.

I know Tammy, though. She’s a stubborn bitch who doesn’t give up. If she really wants to push her existence in my face, she’ll try again till she can leave a fuck you message, but fine. That doesn’t mean I have to listen to it or have her, her parents, or her brother in my life ever again.

I wonder, does Andy even have her number anymore? If so, he can call her and she and he can bitch about me together after I’m gone.

I asked Tom for his opinion as to my walking away from Andy and the others. He said he didn’t see the necessity of it cuz one can just let things evolve apart. Yeah, right! Not with the parents, the sister, and Andy. That’s not the way it works with them.

Later…

This is the longest stretch of time I’ve known the van to stay put. It’s been where it’s at since around 8:00 this morning. The pickup’s here again, though.

Tom sanded some more spackling and ordered the paints to be mixed. They’ll be ready tomorrow. Just the outside trim and the interior paints, though. We still have to bring them a sample of the light blue that’s on the house and hope they can match it. That way we only have to do the bad spots and not the whole house. We’re gonna be painting the exterior a glossy extreme white, and the interior walls a flat bridal gown. We need to get Blue Mist for the pool, and I don’t know what the yellow for the cabinet is called. I think that one only goes by a number, not a name.

I have more news on Andy. We talked for what seemed like forever and it took me 4 tries to get him off the phone. If I wanted to hang up at noon, for example, I’d have to start mentioning it and trying at a quarter till. Nonetheless, the conversation went well. He seemed sober and alert and spoke more fluently. Yes, most of what he told me was the same old same old, and the inevitable food and God delusion came up, but some of the things he told me were just so typical of him, that they were actually kind of amusing.

Let’s see…he left off with making out with Adam’s roommate and getting his ass squeezed by Adam’s boyfriend. After that, he went to the beach with Wendy. From what he’s told me so far, Wendy sounds pretty fucked up and selfish. He says she doesn’t do drugs as much since leaving Phoenix, though, and that she hated it here.

He didn’t see Charlotte, but he saw Natalie and Al. Natalie said to give her regards to me. Like I really care! He told me of some cottages that got modernized, including his favorite.

He said the first time he went down there, the water was unusually blue and clear. So clear you could see the bottom. What happened to that brown murky filth we always used to know? He said the place was litter-free too, till he went down the second time. He said the second time, the water was just as clear, but there was litter on the flat rocks. So, he decided that he was going to clean it up and not take any credit for it, cuz it’s best to get that from God. Gee, I wish I could get credit from God where it’s due me! I mean, what’s the trick? How does he get credit while I don’t? He said his tongue had been hurting him cuz of a decayed tooth rubbing against it, but that after he cleaned up, it was gone. He said he didn’t appreciate how Wendy bragged to a couple of people walking by that they were gonna go clean up. She never lifted a finger to help either, as Andy figured would be the case.

He said he had a lengthy discussion with his mother. His inheritance will be the condo they own in Springfield, which he doesn’t want. He says he’s gonna sell it and put the money towards buying some other house out here. Judy told him she felt he’d be happier if he sold his stuff and drove home, and that he could stay with them rent-free for as long as he needed to. Andy told her that even though his life is the same here as it was there, he’s staying here. Wendy also offered to put him up in the guy’s mansion she lives in in Brookline, New Hampshire. It’s nice to know he has all these options open to him.

He said he was bored most of the time he was there and that two weeks is too long. He said he’ll only go back there for a week at a time from now on.

Later…

Tom said he didn’t think the Ranchero would be back and that he thought it was just someone helping them out only. Well, it’s back. I knew it would be. The amazing thing about it is that I haven’t heard any music, but we’ll see. The pickup’s still here, too. None of these Mexicans work. They’re totally, totally lazy bums.

Later…

Andy finished off his visit in New Hampshire. The guy that owns the house bought an old ski resort which is the mountain his house sits on. He said the house was gorgeous and so was the view looking down into town. Wendy takes care of this house when the guy’s out of town. He owns 4 houses.

Wendy introduced him to a “functional drunk” who lives nearby. Leave it to Wendy to know such a character. He said that she had a nice house too, with a horse that was well taken care of. She was some artist, I guess, who was seeing a married man.

Andy flew out of New Hampshire and not from Bradley. He flew to Baltimore, then boarded his plane for here. He said he was sitting next to a couple of unruly boys, got up to go to the bathroom, then sat down in a different seat next to a gay guy. The guy was his type, but was from DC and only going to Phoenix for a wedding. Figures, huh? That’s just his luck. If he weren’t his type, he’d be headed for Phoenix to stay.

He told me he went to the bar when he first came back, which was loaded with your typical sluts. He said it was also the first time he went 90 minutes in a bar without smoking. He’s been thinking of quitting a lot. Aren’t most smokers?

I was right about Michelle. I knew it. I just knew it. She did get dumped by that so-called stable teacher. That so-called stable teacher was very similar to how Kacey was, telling Michelle she loved her one minute, then didn’t want her in her life the next. What a shit! She’s been getting jerked around by this girl yet she’s too stupid to keep putting up with it. She and Andy have what I believe to be a very warped idea of relationships. To them, a bad relationship is better than no relationship. I’d rather be alone than have my head played with like that. If Michelle keeps following in my footsteps like she has been, then she won’t settle down with the right person till she’s in her late 20s (she’s 24 or 25 now), and the person she settles down with just may have a dick attached to it.

Here’s the part that’s funny while it’s not funny. It’s just so Andy. Only he could end up in a situation like this with people like Beth (that’s the shit’s name). Beth is bi and has hit on Andy before. That’s when he learned the truth about Beth and decided he didn’t like her.

Andy, Michelle, and Beth went to Camelback Mountain. The three of them were sitting side by side and at one point Beth asked for a kiss, since Andy’s breath mints make your breath wonderful, as he says. Andy looked at Michelle for a response and got none, so he and Beth made out right there in front of Michelle with her watching.

Then they ended up in Andy’s bed. Everyone had their clothes on, except Beth lost her shirt at some point. Michelle was massaging her while Andy was licking her tits. Then Michelle pulled back and said, “Andy I can’t do this. You’re my friend and you’re a guy. I never wanted a threesome in the first place.” So, Andy apologized and admitted to being vulnerable and susceptible at the moment, cuz he was lonely, horny, and missing Quinn. Quinn, of all scum-sucking waste products! Quinn, I love you for hanging your ass, you little cock!

TUESDAY, JUNE 8, 1999 The van didn’t leave as early as 4:00, but I got a good look at the driver of the van, and it’s the guy I’ve seen living over there. I think I’ve got a better idea as to a headcount over there. At first I thought there were two women, a guy, and God knows how many kids over there, but now I think there’s a woman, a guy, and 4 kids. What is it with me and 4 kids? That cunt Barbara in Norwich had 4 kids, the Mormons had 4 kids, and from what I’ve seen, I’ve got 4 kids on my shoulders again.

All my predictions are ringing true so far, but I have yet to see the dog arrive, cuz I don’t think it’ll be here for another week or two. I just can’t believe how naïve and trusting the city is of its welfare bums!

The van comes and goes a million more times than the cock did, believe it or not. I find it hard to believe all these trips are to get stuff for the house. I don’t know where it’s going or why, or if it’s even legal, but at least these people don’t make such a big production out of it. They hop in the van, then after one or two door slams, they leave. They don’t hang out yelling for 10 minutes and slam doors 8 or 10 times before leaving.

Here’s another van report: Van left at 4:00, van came at 5:00, van left at 7:50, van came at 9:00, van left at 12:30, van came at around 1:00, van left at 2:30, van came at 3:30, van left at 4:45, van came at 4:00, van left at 4:10, van came at 4:30, van left and returned at least once more after 4:30. Yesterday, the van stayed in throughout the morning after returning at 9:00 and was gone at 12:30. I don’t know what time it returned, but it left again at 2:30. Then it made a quick run in and out at 4:00, left again, then came back at around 4:30. This was the last time I checked it before bed, but when I got up, I saw that the van was in a different position, so it had to have made at least one more run after 4:30. This is at least 8 times that I know of, that the van came and went. I just can’t believe this van doesn’t bang in and out! That tells me all the more that compensation from a dog is coming my way. If I can help it, though, that dog won’t be here for more than a week. Then God can go do something else to me. Tom says he doubts there’ll be a dog cuz of the patterns I usually see when I, or a move. It’s when they finally shut up or when I get a quiet neighbor that one of us moves. Well, it has been quiet so far, except for that one bass attack, and the collies. I’m very curious to see how the ranchero comes in the next time it visits. I think it’ll come in with its music much louder (Tom said it was almost as loud as the cock would play his music) cuz you know how people are - always gotta do the opposite of what you ask of them. It’s a human obsession.

Later…

The guy and the woman (I don’t know about any kids) left at 6:50 and returned at 7:11.

It’s not even 9:30 yet and already there have been two sales calls.

I’m getting bored with documenting my dreams, so I’ll just copy in what I’ve got so far, then I’ll just write the ones that really stand out. Here are the dreams I’ve written in from May 12th to June 6th:

I went back east to Massachusetts with Tom. We stayed in a motel and I went outside when it got dark and glanced up at the window above me. I saw that it was dark and assumed no one was staying above us. I remember thinking that Tom wouldn’t be seeing Connecticut or meeting anyone I knew there, due to my not being in touch with Tammy. We ended up in the yard of one of the houses I grew up in and were staying there for a while, apparently. I went out in the yard by myself. There was snow on the ground, even though we went there during the summer. I walked to a big swing set with 4-5 swings that had wicker baskets for seats. I saw a spider web on its bars and went looking for a stick to knock it down with. As I looked down on the ground, I noticed several straws from drinks. A feeling of sadness came over me at some point as I remembered how I only lived in the house 2-3 years before they sent me away. I felt cheated and like I hadn’t gotten to live there long enough. Inside the house, I pictured it set up with our stuff, then ran down the stairs into the living room where Tom was watching TV. Tom loved it there so much and when we were talking to someone about it, I said that if we did stay, it’d only be for a year, since I do love Arizona and newer, more modern places.

While back east, Tom was complaining to me about how the big maxi pad I was wearing bulged out in back. I bitched to him that hey, they were just big pads, so deal with it. It’s a normal fact of life.

A woman was playing a sex game with me, also back east, by rolling dice and touching a certain area of my crotch depending on what the dice said. At some point, I shouted that I was so horny and needed to get off. I couldn’t be teased anymore and she said, “Alright,” and kind of cupped my crotch with her hand.

In some building back east, I saw a young woman who appeared to be in her early 20s and wished I had her looks. I wished I could be just over 5’ like she was, that I was as thin as she was, and had her shorter hair and “simple eyes.” I then realized it was Jessie, who acted as if she didn’t know me.

I was alone at our supposed new home which was still sort of occupied. The people were on their way out, though. It was set up high on a hill-like slope in a crowded city by the ocean. Which ocean and where this was, I don’t know. Despite the congestion, the house was airtight enough that you couldn’t hear outside noise. At some point, people from the disability office were there, obviously doing some sort of evaluation on me. They sat at a large table in the middle of the house, while I was in one of the 3 spare bedrooms playing music. I had at least brought over my stereo, I guess. They called me out at one point to ask a question, then I went to the other end of the house to the master bedroom. Upon entering it, I wondered if it was too big for being just a bedroom, but then I decided that once the bed was in there, it’d look great. Besides, I wanted to sleep in the room that had the bathroom off it. I remember thinking that I hoped the former resident’s housekeeper would move out, since I wanted to live alone with Tom, and since I was used to the fact that if I wanted something done and done right, I had to do it myself or else it wouldn’t get done at all. I walked over to the window and admired the vast ocean view. Tears of happiness stung my eyes at the thought of living here and seeing this view every day. To the left of me, a partial statue that looked like the Statue of Liberty stuck up out of the water a few feet from shore. Then another thing dawned on me and I went out to where the group of disability evaluators sat. I asked them if they were aware of the fact that I wasn’t on disability anymore. They said no. Later on, at dusk, while I was still hanging out at the house by myself, Jim left a message saying that he and Jackie were having a party, but that they’d call later to see if I wanted one of them to pick me up and bring me over to their place for a while. I thought that was just oh so sweet of them that I called there to thank them. I couldn’t get Jackie or Jim to the phone, so I drove over to their house in my new car. Somehow, I knew the way and got there OK. I found Jackie who said, “My party ran later than expected.” I guess I stood there a little while. Then when it came time to leave, I chickened out, doubting I could find my way back safely enough, so Jackie drove me home and I asked if someone would drive my car over later. She said yes.

Apparently, I went to a GYN, who was secretive about the results of my exam. He said something about my needing steroids down there. Then I went and got into Nervous’s van and we agreed that we’d later figure out what I owed him for driving me around.

White people moved next door. I saw two cars, a woman, a man, and a boy around 10 years of age. The woman was coming towards me as I was walking towards our front door. It appeared she wanted to ask me something, but I just kept on walking and ignoring her as if I didn’t see her, not wanting to be associated with neighbors. I shut the door on her as I walked into our living room which was crowded with people.

I was watching what was supposed to be a Gloria music video, but that I also knew was no act. In real life, her son’s about 18, and her daughter’s about 4. In the dream, though, the son was about 8 and the daughter was in her teens. Gloria and her son were sitting on a couch. The daughter was crouched nearby sulking about something. Gloria was verbally coaxing the daughter to sit by her. Eventually, she did. She sat to Gloria’s left while the son was to her right. Then she leaned back against the son, who leaned back too, so that his back was to the couch while Gloria’s back was to his stomach, and she started moving up and down as if to massage the son’s stomach and her back at the same time.

I was waiting at Red Lobster for Tom to meet me there. I got there a long time before he did. At one point, I had to go to the bathroom and as I was walking toward it, I thought I saw Andy, but couldn’t be sure cuz the guy kept moving further away and the room was dimly lit.

I was in what was supposed to be this house, even though it didn’t look like this house. I was looking out our back door which was off a parking lot. A van pulled in and was parking as I shut the door, wondering if the person in the van could be a serial killer or something like that.

This dream had something to do with Tammy and Melanie. Something we were supposed to do for Melanie. A favor maybe? Anyway, I guess we never did it, cuz Mel didn’t seem too happy at one point. Marlee Matlin, the deaf actress, might’ve been in this dream, too.

I was wishing I could keep a schedule so I could get into watching TV series steadily. For some reason, a schedule was necessary for that in this dream.

Something about sucking up cobwebs from the ceiling with a vacuum.

I was at some huge, crowded store wondering how they closed a certain doorway with so many people streaming through it. Then some guy told me a warning beep goes off so people can know to move away.

I was supposed to wake Tom at 4:00. I don’t know if we were going to do fun shopping, errands, or what, but I was pissed when I realized it was past 4:00. I feared it was a whole hour past 4:00, and that he’d be pissed too, but a look at the clock showed I was only 20 minutes late in waking him up.

Tom tried to hide it by pulling an outer blind down outside the living room window, but we got new neighbors. It all began when I heard the obnoxious thump of bass. I went next door and saw that 5 white kids moved in. “Kids,” meaning between 18-20 years old. They had their music blaring away in an upstairs bedroom right by the wall of our house where our bedrooms are. At first, we were all friendly smiles as we introduced ourselves and shook hands, then I mentioned the music and could see by their sudden sulking faces and quiet demeanors that they weren’t too happy about my bringing that up. I knew that it’d take firmness to set them straight so I threatened to have them evicted if they didn’t shut up. Their silence continued. I asked one of the girls what her name was, but she just went slack-jawed, unsure whether or not to answer. She didn’t though. No one said another word from there on out.

Someone at some business, be it a library or something like that, looked on a computer and told me that the blacks weren’t evicted. They just moved on their own.

A cop was stalking me. It started out with him chasing me around a room trying to beat or kill me, but then it turned into a scene on a TV that I and someone else were watching. Tom and I lived on the third or fourth floor of an apartment, I guess, and I was afraid to leave any windows open. At one point I saw the stalker’s car pull up on the street and somehow I knew he was gonna pick the lock of our door and come kidnap me, so I went outside to hide.

I decorated a card with drawings for an old elementary school teacher - Joan Bowe.

I was ice skating.

Doe was sitting at a table with some guy crying about something, then looking out a window and commenting on people’s yards. These were yards of people she’d known for a long time.

Michelle, Andy’s friend, kills herself.

I was riding in the backseat of a convertible when I looked up at a tall building and saw it was an FBI building. Then I realized a few FBI agents were sitting in the front seat. They were asking me questions of some sort.

Someone, perhaps myself, killed someone. The dead body was sprawled across a table and a bunch of cops were milling about.

Something about a high-rise. Maybe an apartment building I lived in or a hotel I was staying in? I was walking outside of it when I realized it was already late fall and that we barely had a summer. It barely got up to 100 degrees.

I was psyched cuz Tom and I were going to do some serious shopping in some computer or electronics store. Then a rowdy high school crowd came in, and Chris Tazzini, a friend in elementary school, was suddenly there. She got shoved by the crowd and was annoyed.

We were away somewhere and I left Tom in some crowded downstairs room and went upstairs to change my dress for dinner. My ear began making a weird static-like sound. A voice said I better clean my ear, so I started to do that, then to do my hair till Christine McVie walked in and took over brushing my hair.

I was suddenly on a TV set, with who I believe was Roseanne Barr. I was noticing how fat she still was, wearing black. A color I figured they’d put her in.

My legs were stuck in rubber bands as I came awake from sleeping.

Two of the rats had babies. I had someone sex them for me. There were two females/two males. I kept the males.

I was observing someone pull a dead body from the ocean, but later on, I saw this person alive.

Me and a homeless girl whom I was hesitant about taking in as a roommate, stole some nice clothes from a fat lady.

My Bailey doll was undressed. I guess I was washing her clothes. I was looking for her diaper to put back on, but in reality, she doesn’t wear one. Just a sleeper.

Larry left a hateful message on our machine. At first, I was furious but then something about it (I don’t know what) had me cracking up with laughter.

I thought Tom wasn’t home and I wanted to order a pizza. For some reason, I felt I had to sneak it behind his back and keep it a secret, so I was wondering where I’d dispose of the pizza box after I finished the pizza. Instead of dumping it in the dumpster, I decided to dispose of it a few yards down. Just as I was going to call to place the order, I saw that Tom was home.

Tammy, Andy, and I were hanging out someplace. I was bitching to them about being fat and aging quickly.

My dolls had been packed away and undressed for some time. I put a leg back on that fell off of one of my Barbies, then I felt that it would be a good time to take all my dolls out and dress them. Patrice was the only one I couldn’t dress right away. I was in a building several stories up. Just outside the window, a foot away was another building just like the one I was in. Patrice was just inside the window right across from me. I knew I could open the window in the room I was in, reach across, open the window across the way, and pull Patrice across to my side, but it was nighttime, so I didn’t want to risk dropping her since I couldn’t see well.

I was filling up a big square tub in a big bathroom somewhere. I felt I had to pee and walked over to the toilet.

I was lying in a bed, and I don’t know if I had this baby or adopted it, but someone handed me a baby that sort of resembled Bailey with really long hair. Tom was standing to the left of the bed and his mom was sitting near the bed to the right smiling. Dureen was sitting behind her with a watchful, yet blank expression on her face. I tried to tell the baby that they were nana, but then I looked at our moms and said, “She doesn’t get it.”

Then some woman seated at a desk a few feet behind Tom, suggested a mold of the baby be made so I could use it to practice handling her properly.

I was looking through a phonebook and found Doe and Art’s current number and email address. In this phonebook, there were about 15 pages of family pictures, mostly of Tammy.

I was out just as the crack of dawn was setting in, roaming around a hillside at the beach I spent my summers at, only it didn’t look like that beach at all. I went indoors and suddenly, the 2-story cottage had no front wall. A carload of guys was slowly cruising by. The driver spotted me in one of the front rooms and moved back into a hallway where a closet was supposed to be, but then I realized he’d just back up the car and see me cuz there was no wall, and that’s what he did.

Tammy and I were at some beach or lake sitting on the shore.

Someone was showing someone the proof of someone’s kidnapping and explaining how they were kidnapped.

I was videotaping my so-called long-haired cat who looked like a dog. I was planning on sending Dureen and Art a copy of this video and I was wondering if they’d think this cat was really a dog.

I heard bass softly thumping and I opened the front door to find 3 full carloads of the black bitch’s associates. Guess they came back to live next door.

I went to Florida to see my parents, I guess. I don’t know if Tom was with me. I don’t remember seeing Art in this dream, just Dureen. I was sitting at a table with her and some others. She asked us if we needed anything. I said that just turning up the AC would be good enough for me, and she did. Then she was showing me the rest of the place and it dawned on me that it was similar to the same manufactured home we were looking to get. I remember thinking to myself that I’d just be cool, cuz I’d be disappearing and they’d never see me again after our visit.

I was in a private school that was several stories. A staff member kept asking me to take a test I’d already taken. We were in some huge kitchen with slanted skylights at a long picnic-like table that was filled with several girls or women and we were eating cheesecake. Then at one point, I was climbing out of a pool with two other girls who admired my really long hair.

I was dancing with somebody who was trying to give me these slurping, disgusting kisses.

Tammy told me she was using coke regularly.

I beat up some girl.

I took a journal that was half full of writing and gave it to Melanie. I’m not sure if I was going to leave the last half of it blank for her to use, or if I’d written something just for her in the last half, but anyway, right before I was going to give it to her, I realized I better check the first half in case there was anything there I didn’t want her to see. After checking it, I saw that they were mostly drawings.

Tom and I moved into our new house which may’ve been somewhere back east. This is because the house was huge and old, especially huge. We were on our way to go gambling. Tom asked me if I was excited about it. I said yes, but that knowing we weren’t destined to ever really win anything dampened some of the excitement. He went to wait for me in the car. I was in the kitchen and I remembered that I had reminded myself to look for a good spot for the garbage pail. I scanned the room and decided on a spot and planned to tell Tom when I got into the car that I found a spot in our perfect kitchen for the pail. I left the kitchen and entered the long, huge living room, heading for the door. Then I saw a light on at the opposite end of the room that I felt should be turned off. The living room was so huge that it was quite a jog down to where this light was. Some other day we went back to the old house. I don’t know why, but I saw that we left my wind chimes there and other outdoor things. We left stuff in the attic, too. As I was realizing this while standing out in the backyard, I saw that the people with the collies two yards down were having a huge party and were using next door’s yard too, since there was still no one living there. A kid would pop up every few seconds from behind the block wall and blow through a harmonica at me.

"Shauna" and I were talking about how she could afford to take a month or two off from work to go on a cross-country drive, which she said she’d been wanting to do.

I started some job in Maine and was filling out a questionnaire. One of the questions asked if I liked living in Maine. My boss reminded me she wanted me to wait an hour after work so she could do some treatment on me (connected to my female parts?) and I was wondering if the buses would still be running when we got done. I knew Doe would be home, believe it or not, so I made a mental note to call her for a ride when I could go home.

I was going up and down an elevator in a 6-story building. I got off on the 6th floor and found myself surrounded by fall foliage. When I tried to leave, I couldn’t find the elevator or any other exit.

I was showing Dureen my dolls.

A cop was sadly saying how he found some well-known actress had committed suicide.

Later…

The van left again at 9:50 and I don’t know when it returned, but it’s here now.

Yesterday, I was feeling a little bummed. Fortunately, I rarely feel that way these days, but it was mainly cuz of how long things are taking. I’ve been waiting to move to a house like we want that’s outside of the city for years now. Tom cheered me up, though, then we went to a couple of stores. Also, the frustration of being tight constantly was bringing me down, tiring me out.

I got some more books and some pet food.

Tom saw them cleaning the carpet across the street and thinks they’re gonna try to re-rent the house, rather than sell it. That’s too bad. I had hoped they’d sell it, but hey, we shouldn’t have too many more months to go. In fact, my move date vibe changed from the middle of October to early September. Tom still thinks we’ll move in July or August. Late August is possible, but I don’t know.

Tom’s picking up paint tomorrow.

I’ll really be looking forward to going back to Cigna when we move. I hate Intergroup. It may be more crowded, and the co-pay is higher, but it’ll be worth it to have doctors that are more dependable, all in one building, along with a pharmacist right in the building too, where I can get 3 months’ worth of refills at a time, rather than one refill at a time.

This time around the pain went away faster than it did the other months I had that pain in the lower right side of my gut. Guess it helps to have the cranberry juice on hand.

MONDAY, JUNE 7, 1999 Boy, do they leave early next door. Today they did, anyway. The van left just after 4:00. I could hear voices talking loud enough to tell me just how rude they are. They’re not as loud as the black bitch was, but loud enough for 4:00 in the morning. I could tell that the person in the van was talking to someone outside of the van as it was pulling out of the carport, so again, the person with the van who’s not supposed to be there, works. Meanwhile, there’s at least one adult home now, but probably two or more adults. I wonder if the van will leave this early every day. Does that mean it’ll be back as early as noon since people typically work 8 hours a day? At first I wondered if it was leaving to hide out from the city, but 4:00 is a little overkill of a head start on beating the city since they wouldn’t come out to the house till after 8:00. If they’re even coming out today. All in all, since they’ve been here, except for the ranchero’s mini-concert, they’ve been astonishingly quiet. The lack of bass tells me all the more I can expect a dog any minute (since God’s gonna compensate me for the lack of bass), but that’s when they’ll learn the hard way about following rules. And I’m still pretty sure they’re not supposed to have a dog. That van is not allowed to live there, either. So, if they know what’s good for them, they shouldn’t get a dog unless they want all their frauds exposed; the dog, the van, the people living there that aren’t supposed to be, etc.

Later…

The van’s back. When it left I heard one door slam, but just now I heard two. What? Are they going to be going in and out from 4 AM to after midnight? When do they sleep? And where in the world would you need to go for an hour at 4 AM and why? Questions, questions, questions. I like the mystery here. It makes for fun spying and detective work, but I still kind of wish the bitch had just stayed put. With her and her cronies, I at least knew what to expect. I knew pretty much who was who and what their patterns were as far as who’d come and go and when.

Tom called to let me know he’d be late. I figured as much.

Later…

In Kim’s email to me, she told me her fertility appointments are being postponed so they can check out what they think may be a growth on her cervix. Damn! Talk about hexed plumbing. I really really don’t think she’s ever going to be a mother. It’s rather obvious. I know the signs. All these setbacks are for a reason and I really think that if she was meant to be a mother, she’d have been one by now. She’d be too good of a mother, as far as God’s concerned. She just wouldn’t be abusive enough. Also, it’s what she wants.

Speaking of how life is unfair and all that, it’s amazing I haven’t gotten pregnant in the last couple of years. I’ve always known it’s not meant to be, but knowing how much God loves to give babies to women who don’t want them or who couldn’t cut it as a mother still amazes me that he’s let me off the hook as far as that general rule goes. Nonetheless, as far as Kim goes, something always comes up. There’s always a problem preventing her from conceiving. Regardless of the fact that she wants a kid and I don’t, see what I mean about God using things and other people to control our destinies? It’s no joke. With Kim, he’s using her plumbing and the fact that Walt’s had a vasectomy and is being resistant. With me, if I’m not too dry, too sore, or on a different schedule, it’s Tom’s fear, resistance, and the fact that there’s usually a problem with him. His back, a cold, being tired, sore, busy, too hot, a bum hip, allergies, bum knees, etc. About 7 or 8 out of 10 times we screw, we have to stop cuz of something going on with him. Coincidence? I don’t think so! Try a God-given fear. Well, he can rest assured, cuz even if he had no problems and squirted every day - fate is fate. Just because they couldn’t find anything wrong with me doesn’t mean I can conceive. It simply means that they don’t know why I can’t conceive. I know why, though, and that’s all that counts. I also know I didn’t have all the testing possible done, or have him tested (if he’d have been willing), but what I do know is that the results would’ve been the same - the tests would’ve been negative.

What are his fears based on? The usual - the time the kid would take up, the money it’d cost, my not being able to handle it. Those are the three basic things - time, money, and me. See the pattern? Now ask anyone who’s ever had kids and I’m sure that 98% of them will tell you the same thing - they conceived effortlessly, in no time at all, and they pretty much weren’t planning on it, if they weren’t totally against it. You either have kids just like that, or you don’t have them at all. So, my heart goes out to Kim, cuz I know what it’s like to want a child that cannot be had. I was once in her shoes. Again, as far as having to stop in the middle of sex goes - familiarity is comfortable. However, I feel like all the surprises are a thing of the past. There’ll be nothing new to look forward to. Nothing unexpected. It’s like how I feel about that bitch moving.

I sat and compared a cheaper 4-bedroom Cavco model to the 4-bedroom Redman model I love so much and you know, if we do have to settle if next door really gets out of hand, or if selfish people we’ve helped won’t help us with money if we fall short, it’s really not that much of a settlement. It has its pros and cons as do all models, but it would still work out very well. We could function in it just fine. I just worry that Tom will break his promise to me about not trashing his room, making it harder for me to clean. I know he’ll break that promise. That’s totally his style. He loves things cluttered, unorganized, and in sloppy piles. Saying there’s no room for the stuff is just an excuse.

Anyway, I like how the Redman model’s master bedroom is sandwiched in between its bathroom and its closet, and how it only has two windows. The Cavco has three windows and is on the corner, right smack by the front door. The Redman rooms are bigger, but the Cavco has more of a wall dividing the family room, the kitchen, and the dining area. Its kitchen also has a pantry. So, they sort of even out in the end, although I’d still take the Redman over the Cavco. The sandwiched bedroom with just two windows and the bigger rooms mean a little more to me than more wall length and a pantry.

Later…

That pain is back again. The one that feels like a UT infection. Again, always right before I’m mid-cycle. Could it really then be connected to the ovary on that side? I can’t believe God never hexed my plumbing with growths and things like that and had me have a hysterectomy. I guess he felt a dick that was virtually cumless would do the trick well enough.

Later…

The van left again. I’m sure it’ll be back by 10:00 or 11:00. I’ll bet you anything it’ll come and go 5 more times.

A small truck just pulled in across the street at the rental that says: carpeting & furniture something. There’s also a gray car there. Well, there was. It just pulled out. I wonder if they’re gonna re-rent it or sell it. I hope they sell it. That should keep it empty longer and up the chances of better, white people going in there, but that won’t change the chances of a dog ending up over there.

SUNDAY, JUNE 6, 1999 I went to bed at around 5 PM and got up at 2 AM to find Tom asleep. He should be getting up in 2-3 hours. Meanwhile, to my utter amazement, nothing happened next door while I was up. I didn’t even hear any voices. Tom didn’t leave me any messages, but if anything did go down next door, it went down after I went to bed. All I saw, besides the furniture truck leaving at 8:00 and the red/white pickup, was the blue/green pickup at 11:30. It was there for almost an hour. Then the van left at 1:45. Someone was there watering the yard while the van was out. I’m not surprised, cuz I’m pretty sure there are at least two women and one guy living over there. However, there’s a chance that the guy was dropped off by the red/white pickup, then later picked up by the blue/green pickup. I never got to the window in time to see if the guy was dropped off or if he just went out to talk to them, but the more I think about it, the more I think he was dropped off. So, I don’t know if there are any guys living over there, but I do know there are two women living over there, and one of them isn’t supposed to be there. The one with the van. The van one may work, but I don’t know. I think the carless woman that lives there doesn’t work. I think that even when the van’s out, there’ll always be some adult at the house.

When I got up, I peeked over there. It’s a very dark night out so I can’t be too sure, but I’m pretty sure that the vehicle in the carport is the van that lives there. Also, they have their living room blinds open and a dim light on. I could see stuff piled up near the window, but nothing in particular. It looked more like a room with things thrown in it than a living room.

What I want to know is how the city can be so naïve. Are they really this dumb? Stupid enough not to do regular checks on their subsidized houses to get rid of all the people and cars that aren’t supposed to be there? I can just imagine how many of these subsidized houses have dogs in their yards right now that aren’t supposed to be there.

Yesterday, Tom got the vent installed in the bathroom, but there’s no electricity hooked up to it yet. That’ll be done today. He also spackled holes and I did a few, too. Did a good job, if I do say so myself.

Later…

OK, the sun’s up enough for me to see the vehicle in the carport and yes, it’s the van. Once again, though, if they don’t wake me up, get a dog, or go banging in and out with bass every day, they can fraud the system all they want and I won’t report this van that’s not supposed to be there.

Since my weight and inches aren’t going to go down anymore, I want to get my wedding ring enlarged sometime after we move.

Later…

I don’t believe this. I just don’t believe it! So far next door’s been quiet. There’s been some outdoor activity and vehicles coming and going as I’d predicted, but not only is there nothing going on that could wake me up, there’s nothing going on to disturb the peace in the house while I’m awake, either. If that basketball hoop was still there, though, they’d be driving me nuts. Tom said that 3 vehicles we haven’t seen before visited next door at 6:00, but that there was no music (that’s 10 vehicles). He saw a guy’s head in the backyard at 9:00 this morning when he was doing some outside prep work. For an hour or two, late this morning, I saw a guy and 3 kids out front. You’d think you’d hear their voices loud and clear throughout the entire house like you could with the Mormon kids, but nope. Only if you go into the music room can you hear an occasional burst of voices. At 2:30 the van left, then I noticed a red and white van parked there. The regular van that lives there returned shortly after (11 vehicles). So far things have been as expected, but not as expected. Except for the ranchero’s bass, Tom told me about, they’ve been too good to be true. So far. I’m not saying that they won’t start with constant music. I mean, I don’t sense it, but they’ve got to be furious with Tom for asking that kid to turn the music down. You don’t do that in Arizona. You don’t ask someone to quiet down. That’s like asking them to kill their mothers.

I don’t see anyone in front right now, but that’s typical of Arizona people, too. Always gotta hang out in front. Wouldn’t it be safer to have those kids in the backyard where it’s walled off? Then again, the main reason they hang out front is to be seen and to get attention. I can’t believe they only hung out there for just two hours, though. I really thought they’d be out there for more like 6 hours.

Tom said that ever since these people moved in, the collie house has had lights blaring like never before as if to say they’re afraid of all these people and fear they may break into their house. I don’t know about that. That bitch had a lot of people over there, too.

So, so far I haven’t gotten an eighth of the door slamming I’d get from the blacks. Most of the time someone comes and goes I never hear it (proving all the more that the blacks deliberately slammed doors loudly in regard to me). I’ve been right so far, though, about the hanging outdoors, the many vehicles coming and going, and the van living here. This next week will be an even bigger test, though. I say this will be the scoop: there may not be a music problem like what the blacks gave me, but at least one of the many people living there won’t work and will be home most of the time, the van will stay there, they’ll hang outdoors a lot, have many vehicles come and go, and they’ll get a dog. That’s when Tom contacts the city and the mayor, though.

Tom suggested we check at the library to see if the city still owns the house and that they didn’t sell it at a discount somehow, but we’re pretty sure it’s still city-owned and that these people are subs.

SATURDAY, JUNE 5, 1999 So far I’ve been right about next door. They’re officially moved in and here to stay now, and the van does live there. I knew it would. I just don’t understand it, though. How is it they can be so poor and in need of our tax dollars, yet own a van like this? Maybe the city doesn’t know about the van. There’s a damn good chance that the woman that’s supposed to live there is carless like she’s supposed to be, but let her friend with the van (and the friend with the van’s kids) move in with her and her kids in secret so they could help each other out. Just like how the bitch had the convenience of her cock’s car, and the cock had the convenience of a pussy in his bed. So that makes two adults and God only knows how many kids. The friend probably needed a place too, or at least wanted to be in a house rather than an apartment, and the woman that’s supposed to be there probably appreciates the transportation. Guess they have a deal - you drive me where I need to go, and I’ll let you stay here and I’ll watch your kids along with mine and do most of the household chores.

Come next week, I’ll be able to prove/disprove my belief that says they don’t work. Already, though, we’re up to 6 different vehicles that we know of, about 10 different adults, and God only knows how many kids. Sound familiar? Tom disagrees, but I say they’re gonna be in and out several times a day, every day of the week. I think that just like with the freeloaders and the renters, there’ll be several different cars and people coming and going from there regularly. I just can’t believe I haven’t heard any music yet. Those stereos with major bass are more of a black thing, but still, I can’t believe it. Well, they’ve only been here a week, so we’ll see. They’re bound to have a theme of some kind. Just like it was the kids with the Mormons and the bass with the blacks, there’ll be something with these people. If we get through the weekend without and music problems, I’d guess their theme’s going to be a dog or two rather than music. Till I can get it removed, that is. Of course, I don’t know what the rules are for sure anymore, so I may not be able to get it removed. Hopefully, I can get them to take it indoors, though, cuz I really really do think there’s going to be a dog over there before two weeks is up. Not to mention a whole shitload of loud adults and kids. That I can live with, though. It’s music and dogs that I won’t tolerate. Not even for 5 more months.

Also, true to my vibes, they’re outdoors kinds of people. However, they were just moving in, and the weather yesterday was unbelievably mild. Like 20º below normal for being June. Perhaps something up there is going to call for mild weather for a while to let them be outdoors comfortably on account of me? Well like I said, voices I’ll tolerate, but nothing more.

The van came and went several times yesterday, and at one point, a blue/green pickup came with boxes and furniture and odds and ends. A guy and a girl in their late teens to early 20s unloaded the pickup.

When I got up at midnight, I saw a big huge furniture truck parked just outside their carport. The van was right in front of it. Do these people ever sleep, though? The lights were off when I looked over there, but the van left for a half hour or so just after midnight. As you’ll see, I’ve typed a log of their comings and goings. It’s been quite hectic, but fortunately for them, there hasn’t been much noise yet as far as slamming doors and voices go, and I’ve slept just fine. If you were to sit in the music room with no fans or music on, then yes, you can hear adult and kid voices. Van comes at 7:50 AM. Van leaves at 8:15 AM. Van comes at 9:30 AM. Van leaves at 10:30 AM. Van comes at 11:00 AM. Van leaves at noon. Blue/green pickup comes at 1:45 PM. Pickup/van leaves at 3:10 PM. Van comes at 3:40 PM. Van leaves at 12:30 AM. Van comes at 1:00 AM.

Tom and I both agree that it’ll be a rowdy weekend over there as far as people and cars go. They’re gonna want to show the place off to their millions of fucked up, jobless friends. He doesn’t think there’ll be a problem with music or dogs. He also thinks they work and that weekdays won’t call for much noise over there, but I don’t know. Like I said, God may let me out of having to deal with the music this time around, and thank God there’s no hoop there, but he’d never not let me have to deal with something. Never can Jodi have a neighbor that’s quiet or at least at a normal volume. There’s got to be something extreme. The bass vibes may’ve dropped slightly, but the dog vibe’s soared way up, and I think we can count on a dog over there for damn sure. It may take a couple of weeks, but that’s what I see. Along with the train of cars and people coming and going several times a day, it’s gonna be bark, bark, bark. Yeah well, they’ll just have to deal with me then.

Just like I did with that bitch, I’m gonna start a file on these people of their write-ups, omitting names, of course. You never know if in the end, I’ll want them to do some reading, too (if they’re not illiterate!).

Later…

Well, well, well. Our little freeloaders have been even naughtier than I was aware of. Tom didn’t leave me a message about what I’m about to write about (he crashed before I got up). He told me when he got up which was about 4 hours after I did. Bitch! Why’d you have to fucking move?! I swear it’s the same old shit all over again.

I don’t know how the hell I slept through this, but fortunately for them, I did. Tom says that the ranchero was here again and that it does have a bassy stereo which was blaring in the carport. Tom went out and told him to turn it down, but of course, I know it won’t do him a damn bit of good. I was curious, though, to know if the reaction was annoyed, or what. He said it was a kid, less than 18 years old, and that he startled him. The kid was apparently tired of hanging out with the adults, so it went to sit in the ranchero and make an ass of itself. This is all part of the hear-me obsession these subsidized, low-class, subhuman blacks and Mexicans have. The more you reject and try to turn away from someone, the more they rebel and try harder to be heard/noticed. It’s what they want. They want the whole neighborhood to hear them, to notice them, to acknowledge them, to know they’ve arrived. These sick fucks cry about not being accepted in society, but look how they treat people! Of course, society’s gonna try to brush these species out. Our refusal to tolerate such trash, though, only feeds fuel to the fire. Tom’s asking him to turn the music down will only ensure that all the more they go out of their way to blast us out. I know the drill. I know these kinds of filth. It’s the same old deal all over again. The only difference is that instead of a pack of skinny blacks, we’ve got a pack of fat welfare bums.

Oh, how I wish we could bake them a pie, bring it over to them, welcome them to the neighborhood, then watch them croak on the poison I put in the pie! Thanks, God! Thanks a real fucking lot! You really have a lot of concern and empathy for me, huh? Why do you always do this to me? Why do the rowdy shitfucks have to go next to me? Give me a break! What? Is this my compensation for having the last year of the black’s presence be fairly quiet? Why must I start this whole noise cycle all over again? Thank God, I don’t have to go through this for 3 years, but why can’t I just have quiet neighbors? Power of prayer, my ass! I knew praying for peace would be a waste of time. Now I have to fight to restrain myself from pummeling the shit out of them and do you have any idea how hard that is? It’s like drinking several cups of water and trying not to pee.

The dogs were going off last night, as usual. I’d like to say that they were rudely awakened from a peaceful slumber only to be pissed and have a hard time falling back asleep, but I know better. They all slept like logs regardless of the barking. The barking doesn’t bother them one bit. Not while they’re awake, not while they’re asleep. They just better not be waking me up, though, or else they’re gonna learn the hard way about the consequences of being such rude, selfish assholes.

I’m tired of society’s misfits! All our hard-earned tax dollars go to support these lazy bums while they turn right around and shit on us for it. That’s what we get for helping them. Such wonderful people! Why do these fucking subsidized city bums think that just because they’re in a subsided house that they can be so rude and so loud?! Why can’t these people blend into society and act like normal, civilized human beings and keep their noise for their ears only?!

So, here’s our new plan: Again, though, I don’t know how close we can come to acting upon our current plan, but the latest idea is to just do the bare necessities as far the prep work goes, then settle on a smaller 3-bedroom cookie-cutter house, or a house that already exists on a few acres of land, get out of here in 4-6 weeks, then get the dream home put on our property later on and turn the first house into a guest house or a place for Tom to work on projects and store stuff.

Also, Tom says he’s gonna assume the weekend will be wild over there since they just moved in, but that if they’re still wild come Monday, which he’s not gonna jump the gun and assume, then he’ll write a letter not only to the city address we’ve been using, but to the mayor too, and let them know that this is just ridiculous. It’s sickening! Totally, totally asinine! Well, he may be reluctant to assume anything, but I know. I know there’ll be trouble every day.

Anyway, Tom finished sanding the kitchen yesterday, and right now he’s draining the pool so we can do the step that’s chipped, and we’re gonna prep to paint and get the vent in the bathroom.

Even picking up this old, small house and putting it on a 3-acre lot is better than staying here, but to think that we may be forced to settle for a while on account of these fucking freeloaders really makes my blood boil! I don’t like feeling like I’m being controlled like that. Especially by sick twists that ought to be shot execution-style, or better yet, tortured for hours prior to being shot execution-style.

Later…

The furniture truck left a few minutes ago and the van’s out in the street. So I guess these freeloaders have furniture buddies, huh? That must be how they can afford to rent furniture. I suppose the furniture truck took off to make deliveries, but I don’t know. Is this truck going to live there, too? Or did the people with the truck just crash there overnight last night?

A red and white pickup that was loaded with God knows what and two guys just pulled up alongside the street to talk to some Mexican guy. Then the truck took off and the Mexican guy walked back towards the house. That’s vehicle number 7. I’ve lost count of the people, though.

Later…

Oh, no you won’t. Tammy just left a message, all nicey-nice, as if nothing ever happened. She said she was just calling to say hi, she hopes we’re doing OK, and she’ll talk to me later. Keep dreaming, sis!

FRIDAY, JUNE 4, 1999 I called Andy to get the discussion about food and God over with, but he said it wasn’t a good time to talk cuz he wanted to just relax. Then why’d he answer his phone? Anyway, I told him to leave all the messages he wants this weekend, that I was glad he was back safe and sound, and that I’ll call him next week.

I had been wondering why Paula wasn’t pestering me so much lately till I tried calling her. I got a recording saying her phone’s been temporarily disconnected. I hope it’s a little more than temporary! But anyway, that’s more like the Paula I always knew. I mean, she’d move and lose phones as often as Fran did. Well, she always moved as much as he did, but for a while there, I thought she’d keep this last phone for life. That must’ve been the longest stretch she’s gone with a phone. I’m sure the main reason she lost that phone was cuz of all the calls she made to me. I tried to warn her about that, but it’s her life. Meanwhile, I’ll keep the letters going to her. She damn well better keep that PO Box she just got, cuz I made up about 30 envelopes with all kinds of pictures on the back of animals and scenery. Yeah, I sure got myself a lot of pictures. Got palm trees, cactuses, dogs, cats, and other scenic and animal pictures. I’ve got about 25 different screensavers made up now.

Tom told me what the neighborhood people helped themselves to this time around (the stuff we put in the alley). They not only took stuff we figured they’d take, but they surprised us by taking the faucets off the old sink but leaving the sink there. Now that’s desperate! Who’d want such old, ugly faucets when you can buy nicer ones at a reasonable enough price? I hated those faucets just like I hate the kitchen ones. I’d always hurt my fingers on them. They also took the beanbag and the last two old, beat-up kitchen chairs.

As for next door - Tom says that when he got home at 12:30, that van was there for about an hour and so was the gas company. He said he thinks the reason they haven’t been there is cuz they’ve had no hot water. However, it doesn’t appear that anyone’s there tonight, either.

He said he didn’t see any people, and that he’s not sure of the van’s color. He said it’s some dark, obscure color. Also, he’s not sure what blue/gray is (the color of the van driven by that pregnant child). Oh really? Why is that? Is he trying to stall me from finding out it’s that van after hoping differently after seeing what I thought was different, white people last Sunday? He tried that with the cock. When he changed cars, he tried to convince me that it wasn’t him.

But then he started describing other things that say this isn’t the same van, after all. When I asked if this woman was pregnant, he said that she was so fat that he wouldn’t even be able to tell if she was or not. Well, the woman I saw, the child, I mean, was definitely pregnant. Also, he said he’s seen two toddlers. That Mexican kid, though, had one toddler and one infant, but that’s just what I saw. Mexicans have kids like rabbits, so there’s no saying how many she had for sure. She could’ve left ten kids at home. I’m so sick of Mormons, blacks and Mexicans! If it weren’t for Gloria Estefan, I’d hate all Mexicans, though she’s Cuban.

I asked him if he thought that van belonged to whoever lived there, and he said no, he doubts a vehicle of any kind will be there at night, and he thinks the van belonged to someone related to them. Well, we’ll see. I mean, there’s always a chance someone is there now, and that they walk to the bus stop on weekday mornings to go to work, and return the same way, but somehow I doubt that very much. I think a car of some kind will be living there, but if that’s not the case, I think someone will pick them up and drop them off. What about the kids, though, if they do work? Who takes care of them during the day? Does someone come here like Bill did with the bitch’s kid? Or do they go somewhere during the day? Even if it’s peaceful there during the workdays, that doesn’t mean it’ll be that way after work and on weekends. I still don’t have a bad vibe, but my logic says that as soon as they get settled, they’ll be noisy. I don’t know if it’ll be from voices, dogs, or music, but there’ll be some source of noise and it’ll be more noise than normal. Of course, there’s still always the off chance that they end up being no problem since God knows we’re not going to have to be neighbors for 2-3 years. We had two years with the Mormons and 3 years with the blacks. If this was so, though, that’d be wonderful, but I’d still be like - thanks, God. Now you send me the ideal neighbors? Now?! When we’ve got just a few months left here? Well, if this is the case, better late than never. If I can get a few extra months of peace and take the last 6 or so months off from neighbor’s shit before moving - why not? Still, I highly doubt this will be the case. I’m sure they’ll be anything but ideal to have just a few feet away. Just wait till they get settled in, and of course, I wish I could say they won’t want to be outdoors much when it gets really hot like most people, but I’m sure that won’t stop them. Didn’t stop the blacks. He said he doubts the woman he saw will take to the heat very well cuz of how fat she is and that fat people usually have fat friends so they won’t either. Yeah? Well with my luck she and her cronies will be able to take it just fine. I’m sure they won’t mind at all.

He also said that if she’s as hard to get along with as I felt she is, she won’t have too many friends.

Wrong. Just the opposite. Assholes always have a lot of friends. That’s because most people are assholes, and since most people want people they have things in common with for friends, there are plenty of assholes out there for other assholes to be buddies with. It seems that the nicer you are, the fewer people you know.

Anyway, now that I’m rolling onto days, I should be able to get a look at this mystery van if it comes today, too.

Later…

At 7:50 the van pulled in. At first I thought it was that blue/gray van driven by the pregnant kid, but now I don’t know. I saw not only a boy of about 5 but a girl of about 9, too. Mexicans have kids like rabbits, and if these people are as Mexican as they look to be, there’ll be half a dozen kids living over there. The van pulled out 15 minutes later and once it got out into the sunlight, I could see that the color didn’t quite look blue/gray and I can see how Tom may’ve thought it was brown. This van seemed to be more like a brown/gray. Also, I saw two big fat women in the front, but couldn’t see into the van to see how many kids were in it. After seeing these women, I can’t say for sure that either of them is that pregnant kid I saw. So were there people in the house last night after all? Was this van picking up someone in the house to bring them to work? If so, why bring the kids, too? They can’t go to work with them, can they? Maybe they’re going to get dropped off first at daycare or something. Before they left, I saw them shutting the back of the van which suggests they may’ve unloaded or loaded something into it, but is this van going to live there full-time at some point? This weekend ought to tell me a lot, but I’d say that if weekends aren’t wild over there, I’d be one surprised girl! Maybe there won’t be a music problem, but I’d think that all these kids these Mexicans love to have, would be outside running wild for hours. Not just kids who live there, but other people’s kids, too.

I’ll be finding out their name in no time at all. It’s only a matter of time before the mailman gives me a piece of their mail.

I’m glad my letters to the girls didn’t spawn off calls from Tammy. That just goes to show how selfish she really is. She’s just like Dureen in so many ways. I never pressured or dumped her when she wasn’t having any contact with Doe and Art. But now that I’m not and she is, she had to pressure me into contacting them and then dump me when she couldn’t get her way. Well, she better enjoy life without a sister, cuz she certainly lost me for good, along with the others.

Again, just like I questioned being friends with someone who beats her kids (Paula), I’ve got to wonder if I really want to associate with someone who abuses her kids mentally and physically, uses one of them as a built-in babysitter and housekeeper, and who can’t accept me as I am, even when I’m not just like them, and I don’t think so! I think I deserve better than that. All I need is Tom. Just having one person who fully accepts me is enough.

THURSDAY, JUNE 3, 1999 Boy, are we taking a familiar trip down Memory Lane here! It’s the same pattern. The same exact pattern. The Mexicans moved in little by little without making much noise. Meanwhile, I’d see several different vehicles. Like 3-4 of them. It wasn’t until they got fully moved in and were sleeping here that they began to make noise. As soon as they were settled in, though, it was time to get the neighborhood’s attention. Well, I see the same thing going on all over again. Again, no one stayed there last night. All Tom said he saw was a brown van in the carport at 2 PM yesterday. That’s 4 vehicles. They’ve been moving in little by little, not making much noise. Yet. Just as soon as they get fully moved in and are living there day and night, we’ll be hearing from them. That’s when they’ll let the whole street know they exist. What? Do these subsidized assholes have a system out here? Do they all move into houses slowly and quietly, then raise hell once they’re settled in? Are they all so rude and selfish, desperate for their neighbors to hear and notice what sick fucks they are?

I might’ve been wrong about assuming they don’t work cuz they're moving in little by little says they do, just like with the bitch and cock.

Well, I may be seeing familiar patterns all over again, but guess what? This time I’ve got something I didn’t have the first time around - the city’s address. As soon as the parties, the music, the company, and the dogs get out of hand, I’ll be perfectly happy to put them in their place like I should’ve done with the bitch and cock from the get-go. I should never have let it get to the point where that bitch came running to take her shit fit on my doorstep and make me wonder for the rest of my life if I should’ve decked her. I should’ve dealt with every single fucking freeloader over there by contacting the city from the start of their shit. But I didn’t know these things like Tom did, and I wish to hell he’d brought up the idea sooner. He said he did, but I said it wouldn’t work. I remember saying that I had my doubts about it working, but that doesn’t mean he brought it up from the get-go. Those blacks moved in March of 96 and he never went to the library for the city’s address till late November of 97. Once again, I’m thrilled to know we’ll be out of here soon enough, cuz what once worked in the past, may not work in the future. The city may decide this time around to ignore my complaint and just let this batch of scum do whatever it wants.

What’s not thrilling to know is that the pest will be returning home today. I can imagine all the calls I’ll be getting about it, too. I’ll try to put off the 2-hour conversation all about God and food for as long as possible. I was going to be just as available to talk as always till we moved. Meaning, that I was still going to leave messages 1-3 times a week and chat about once a week, but I’m gonna be harder and harder for Andy to get a hold of as we get closer to moving. I’m not obligated, after all, to cater to this guy’s phone needs. Also, I’m sorry, I know it sounds selfish, but I’m just not thrilled to chat with him these days. I’m tired of it.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 2, 1999 I’m going to cover the basics as best and as fast as I can. I’m not really in the mood to do much writing now. I want to work out some more and go online to see if I can find more goodies. Been getting some really nice wallpaper pictures of landscapes, animals, etc.

Anyway, the city came to mow at 9:30, but I still didn’t have a bad vibe or any vibes about being woken up, so I went to bed relaxed enough and slept fine. Tom fell asleep around the same time I did, but when he got up in the late afternoon, a few hours before I did, he saw the new scum moving in (I can’t believe they moved in while I slept just fine just three feet away! He said it was a pretty quiet ordeal, though, with just a few car doors). I had thought the people I saw Monday looked white, but he said he thought what he saw looked Mexican. Well, it’d make more sense. How many subsidized people are white compared to black and Hispanic? I can tell you firsthand, from experience that most subs aren’t white.

He said he saw three different vehicles. The gold car we already saw, a blazer, and an old junkie Ranchero. The gold car and the blazer look like something the bitch’s associates would drive, but the beat-up Ranchero is a different story. He said he saw some rented furniture being delivered. How can they afford to rent furniture? Renting furniture can be more expensive than buying it. He said he didn’t get a good look at people, but he did see a big fat woman and two toddlers. So far, no dog and the only music he said he heard was played softly and without bass by the Ranchero as it was pulling out. He said it was so soft that he couldn’t tell what kind of music it was and that it wasn’t one of those really bassy stereos. He says he believes they work cuz how else would they pay their rent? With their SSI, SS, or welfare checks, I told him. We’ll see, though. It’s too soon for me to know if anyone there works, how many people are living there (among the ones that aren’t supposed to be living there), and if someone living there has a car, or what. They’re not here tonight. They were gone when I got up at around 7 PM, then they pulled in an hour later. I heard some voices calling out to each other and saw a mattress and a box spring being pulled from the Ranchero. They left at 9:30 and haven’t been back since.

They did what I figured would be done the very first day someone moved in there - changed the security light bulb. This one may not be too obnoxious, though. It seems to be a lower wattage than what was there before.

It’s just a matter of time. I may not have a bad vibe. I mean, this is a totally different feeling than what I had right before the other freeloaders arrived. Before the other freeloaders, there was a very ominous feeling in the air. I was all stressed out, knowing my peace was about to be stolen. Well, I may not feel this way what with knowing we’re moving soon enough, but I’m no idiot, either. I know the parties, the mass of vehicles, the music, the kids, and maybe even a dog, will be a problem. Like I said, it’s just a matter of time. Come the weekend, the whole street will be hearing them.

TUESDAY, JUNE 1, 1999 The next next-door problem has arrived. So far, there's been no problems, but I said, "so far." Just give it time and there will be. I'll write about it more later. Right now, I want to go work out.

[pupintransit]

Month 10 of The Wait™️ is upon us, but can i really call it "The Wait™️" when in two days I'm flying to Quebec? The wait is over. Pack it in boys, the mission's complete.

All told, from the day i told my GP about my goal it took about one full year to the date of surgery. It's ten months from the "official" start of the wait, which is the day that my surgical assessment was sent in to GRS Montréal. It costs a lot more to go to Montréal than stay in BC, but I have no regrets.

Everything that i need has been purchased days ago. Last thing i picked up were the absorbant pads for dilating on. I mentioned briefly in my shopping list post, but if you pick up XL puppy pads it's cheaper than getting the ones rated for humans. It's precisely the same product too, so honestly it just made the most sense.

Although speaking of costs, I've had the privilege of being able to put some money away. Not including the GoFundMe money (I've used that on my flights already) but including my existing savings, i have about $4,000 to play with. Not bad! I doubt i'll be able to keep that up once home in recovery since medical EI won't exactly let me live the life of luxury, but this way I won't need to take out a bank loan until after everything is said is done. Well ideally i won't need to take out a loan, but if it comes to that it's not gonna be so big of a financial hole.

On the topic of the medical EI, i have the requisite form from my doctor which i've sent to the government already. My employer is processing the document the government needs from them on my behalf.... on March 1st. It's later than i would have liked, but there's nothing i can do about it. Today after work i'll be submitting the EI application, which means it will FINALLY be something i can stop worrying about.

It's... i dunno, it's strange. I don't want to seem melodramatic but it's hard to write this particular post. Throughout this month and last month I've had more second thoughts than at any other point in my life. I think about it in two general modes; Logically and Emotionally.

Logically, the decision makes sense. When i think back to adolescence and my early 20s, i recall all the moments i wished to look different than i do now. All the times i wanted what the girls had as a kid, hoping i contracted testicular cancer as a teenager, my jealously of trans men as a young adult. None of these are cisgender thoughts. Cis men aren't distracted by the presence of their genitals when walking or going about their day, and they certainly don't lay awake a night wanting to be AFAB so they could transition and be a man with a vagina. There's scores of evidence suggesting that this isn't a kink or a passing phase. Logically, it makes sense that having a vagina is the correct choice based on everything i've experienced up until this point.

Emotionally, the decision makes me feel good. I'm scared, and frankly it would it be a bad sign if i wasn't, but i'm excited. I'm happy. The logical vein of thinking is retrospective, but the emotional vein is forward thinking. The first few weeks will suck and my crotch will be puffy and in pain, but that will pass. I have an abundant support network which will help me feel less alone during the parts that will really test my resolve. And even though it will not be pretty early on, it will still be mine. I'll see the shapes it'll have and have the mindfulness to know how it'll look fully healed, and when i get dressed in the morning there won't be a buldge. When i put on a gaff i like to look at myself in a mirror to see the bulde in my underwear vanish as i put on the garment, and watch as my front flattens out. The feeling when i watch that isn't arousal, it's relief. I'll still feel that relief even early in recovery when the hard part is still underway, and i can imagine how freeing it will feel after the first year and i'm fully healed. Emotionally, having a vagina and the sensations that come with it make feel happy.

So why the second thoughts? It's permanent, that's why. I can know i'm making an informed decision and remind myself i'm not imangining my dysphoria, but at the end of the day there's no going back. There's no trial period, no refunds, no nothing. It's inherently scary. I guess it makes going through with inherently courageous, but i don't feel courageous. I feel small, nervous, like i want to tuck my tail in and slink away before someone notices. But i'm staying true to what will be best for me. I have a choice, and my choice is that i want to do this.

I'm ready.

[youmightaswell]

Die!

The Mystery of the Apple Pie Spice

As you know I just hate everything about fall, right down to things that one thinks fall smells like – like apples, cinnamon, pumpkin. Tonight, though, I just made a large cup of decaf coffee and had the impulse to put some apple pie spice in it. I wanted to rub salt (or in this case cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg) into my autumnal wound. But it reminded me of something weird. Probably too weird to try to explain in writing. So when you read things I write you might get the impression that I am really psycho, and maybe internally I am – my internal monologue which I sometimes share with you might seem off-kilter. However, in person, I promise you I come off as being normal, funny, some say attractive…

Anyway, this tiny apple pie spice jar was given to me by a friend a while ago – maybe like three years ago. (Now, typing that also makes me wonder how long dried spices are supposed to last. I probably have some in there for over 10 years. How embarrassing!) My friend was moving from his apartment to a tiny studio and didn’t want to have to pack anything. So he threw out literally everything he owns save for important papers like passports, etc. He gave everything else away. He only re-bought very basic things like a pot, a set of silverware, 7 pairs of socks, underwear, etc. He said it would be cheaper this way than paying for a move and also he wanted to become a minimalist.

When he was moving he had me come over and take anything I wanted. I took all his spices. All were pretty much never opened and brand new and by the brand Penzeys. I love that brand of spice. I had never had apple pie spice which makes sense bc I don’t make pies. But over the years I seem to use it all the time- to add to oatmeal, muffins, chia seed pudding, tea, cider, pancakes… I use it weekly BUT here is the very Twilight Zone thing about it: It never gets any less in the tiny container. I just looked at it when I put it in my coffee and it is still almost full – like maybe 20% used but I have been using it consistently for more than THREE YEARS. I always think about this every time I take it out of the cupboard. At least once or twice a week I think: This has to be a magic spice because it is never going to run out. It’s gotten to the point where I purposely try to use it – and use A LOT of it – to get it to finish just to prove that I am not insane and it is not magic. But lo! Tonight I used it for coffee and it seems like there is EVEN MORE OF IT IN THE CONTAINER. The tiny container is nearly completely full. WTF? Is something supernatural going on here or am I losing my mind? What a great short film this would make. I feel it is something that Miranda July would make – a short film or a vignette in a film about a magic spice jar and a woman who notices it never gets empty.

Jane Campion, an Australian filmmaker did this series of film vignettes that I saw years ago. One was about people remembering the words to songs wrong but then remembering them while they are doing odd things that they thought were depicted in the song. In it a man has always gotten the words of the Monkees song, Daydream Believer wrong. He has always sung it day jean cleaner for some reason, truly believing those were the words. Then one night he is bending over his tub washing his jeans and starts to sing what he believes are the words to Daydream Believer and stops and wonders why anyone would write a song about something as esoteric as washing jeans. And he wonders how the song got so popular.

Peel: An Exercise in Discipline was unveiled in 1982 as Campion was embarking on another short with Gerard Lee and Veronika Jenet called Passionless Moments. The black-and-white short chronicled a series of vignettes in which many people do mundane things throughout the course of the day. Some of these moments include a fat man doing yoga, a boy trying to get some food before a bomb goes off, a woman alone in her room, two neighbors eyeing each other, a man cleaning his jeans in a tub as he sings the Monkees’ Daydream Believer, and other stories.

Passionless Moments’ sense of style came from Campion’s desire to find something engaging in the mundane. She and Lee shot all of the vignettes in the course of a day and created images that were quite compelling. An example of this comes in the first segment where the fat man looks at words while turning doing his yoga. It’s among the many moments in the short that Campion wanted to show that even something mundane can be extraordinary. A series of vignettes make up this wry take on the mundane scenes of everyday life. Campion and Lee imbue the film with radical humor and artfulness. You’ll never hear the Monkees’ “Daydream Believer” the same way again.

I guess I like that art can be made about anything – the odder or more mundane the better.

[Related: Penzeys used to be like THE spice. The go-to good brand. And their stuff is still good. I love their paprikas – they have three: California, Smoked and regular. But now in the last year there is a new brand that is getting tons of attn. It’s called Burlap and Barrel. It’s quite expensive. Even more expensive than Penzeys. It’s like $10 for a tiny container. But I am dying to try it. I think you can only buy it online. Someone I watch on YouTube works for them writing their newsletters. She is a food writer and works in test kitchens. The more recently I saw them on Shark Tank. They didn’t get a deal but they are flourishing. It’s the hip spice co.]

[lifenmaggie]

EUROPE TRIP PT3

This was our second part of the trip was Greece. We intended to stay on the two Islands: Santorini and Paros. First stop was Santorini, Imerovigli, we stayed a hotel called Honeymoon Villas which had spectacular views and pool. It was one of the reasons we booked the hotel. By the time, we arrived at the hotel it was really late. We were greeted by a local cat we resided outside our alfresco/balcony area. I adotped the cat as our own. We received complimentary wine where we enjoyed a late drink by our balcony with our new cat before bed time.

The next day , we had a early boat cruise that toured us around various island and swimming areas. It went for half the day. I really enjoyed it until I got motion sickness. I got to snorkel and swim in the ocean. The water was nice and warm. I really liked it. On the boat they provided us food and unlimited drinks. It got a nice tan napping on the boat. After the cruise, we headed back to the hotel to refreshen up.

For dinner, we headed to Oia to watch the sunset. We watched the sunset while enjoying our meal. People say the most beautiful sunset is in Oia but in my personal opinion the most people sunsent can be seen anywhere in Santorini. We watched and shopped around Oia and then headed back to the hotel's pool bar for a final drink. I was sitting by the pool while Matt when to order drinks at the bar while he was there he was spoke to a couple who were newly engaged after chatting a while to them it turns out I knew the girl. The girl started to walk up to me I couldn't see her very well in the dark and it was Vanesa who I worked with at Goldman Sachs in London nearly 4 years ago. What a small world! She now lives in Frankfurt with her Vietnamese born German fiance. Both of them work at Goldman Sachs Frankfurt. We caught up with them the next day by the pool.

The next day, we just spent most of the day lazing around the pool. In the evening we walked to Fia which is the main town in Santorini. On our way there I think I saw the best sunset. I did a bit of shopping, I bought these silky long and flowy maxi dresses to wear on the trip and back home. I think the restaurant at Fira was where I had the best food and drinks on the trip. The rest was on a roof top looking out the sea. It had really fun and nice vibe. That was our last night in Santorini. I would love to go back and just laze around the pool again and do long strolls as the sunsets.

The next day, we caught a ferry to our next island, Paros. Paros was much cheaper than Santorini where we stayed for 4 days and 3 nights. Our first night we just explored Naousa which was 20 minutes from our hotel. We stayed in Paros the local town. We booked ourselves to a lovely restaurant in Naousa where ironically, we bumped into an Asian American couple from our Cappodocia tour! When you keep bumping into people like this it just feels the world is so small. Or like minds end up the same places. That was a really nice suprise. This restaurant was bougie. Everyone was dressed to the 9s the venue was beautifully designed, it had the typical white walls, colourful flowers and scandi furniture. Everyone looked amazing , luckily we got the memo and dressed accordingly. After dinner, I discovered lukumades, they are like donuts so yummy! I had it twice first in Naouse and second time in Athens.

The next day, we lazed around the pool and had a nice seafood dinner in Paros. The following day, we took a ferry to Mykonos for a day trip were we had lunch there and spent the day walking around the town. We took photos by the famous windmill. Mykonos is famous for their beach parties we didn't see that part of the island. We were mainly around the town. For dinner, we headed back to Paros town where we met up a Canadian couple who we met on our Cappadocia tour. The husband was a surgeon and the wife was an IT consultant, Priyanka. They were such a lovely couple, they booked at this fine dining restaurant on the rooftop where the food looked beautifully plated. On our last day, we took a ferry to Anti Paros a small island only 30 minutes away. The small town is really charming much quieter than anywhere we have been too. It had very similar look to Mykonos, lots of white lane ways. We had lunch there, walked around the town and coast. We hired a buggy in Paros and took it with us to Anti Paros. We drive the buggy around the island. We stopped by at Anti Paros Caves and went inside. It was very similar to the Perth caves that Paolo took us. We headed back to Paros and hired banana lounges at the beach. We ordered cocktails , listened to music and chilled by the beach. We had our last meal in Naousa again at this very popular restaurant called Barbarossa. It was the mostly lively restaurant I've been too. People were in a such happy mood, people dancing and singing out loud.

The next day, we had to say goodbye to Paros. We caught a ferry to Athens. We arrived Athens very late. We had a quick stroll around our hotel where we got a drink and retired early. The next day, we explored the various famous Greek ruins and museums: Acropolis of Athens, Parthenon and the square. It's a memory I would like to forget but it did happen just a mental note to be careful in crowded place. I got picked pocket where my passport was stolen. For 3 hours I was in a state of complete stress as I was flying out of Athens to Singapore the next day. Disaster was avert, the great Australian embassy saved me and gave me an emergency passport to get home so everything was fine again. What I was mostly upset was I lost my travel wallet that Sophia and Nhirushni got for me when I went to live in London, and my old passport with all the stamps of all the cities I've been. I've been so many it was the physical record of all the places I've been too. Luckily, I've managed to recorded most of the places I've been in this blog. That passport was with me for the best part of my life. It's gone now. The thieves just wanted my money they didn't need my passport. Anyways, that got sorted. To cheer myself up I went to a dessert cafe called Little Cook. It was a bright, colorful fun place , it was supposed to look like a place from Alice in Wonderland. A little sweetness made the sour pain less painful.

Yesterday's pain belongs in the pass, today is a new day! I left the pain of my passport misery behind and looked forward to Singapore where I will meet my dear friends Sandy, Thang and their son Leo. We had a long stop over in Singapore so we decided leave the airport and visit our friends. We got to meet little Leo who was around 6 months old. He was a very big and fit baby. He was well behaved and liked all the sounds I made. I felt like we hitted off really well. I got to see their new apartment. They took us out to kbbq and one of Singpore's big department shopping centres. We had coffee at this cool coffee shop that had coffee beans from around the world, Bacha Coffee. Unfortunately, we couldn't stay long and had to check in to our flight back home. This was the first time we fly in premium economy and surprisingly it was really good I would definitely try to fly premium if I can. It was like business class except the chair didn't fully recline flat. After a few hours, we made home in one piece.

Overall, looking back it had an amazing trip but saying that losing my passport did smeared the memory but I don't want one incident be the story of the whole trip. As you can see lots of happy memories were made. I have happy apple to remind me.

[emailencryption]

Aragon Research Selected RPost as the Hot Vendor of the Year for eSignatures and Digital Transaction Management

What makes a “Hot” eSign Vendor “Hot” rather than “Hlēow”?

The next time you’re having a bad day (traffic, spilled coffee, didn’t get your full 8 hours of sleep, mixed up food delivery order), just think of what life was like for those living centuries ago in, say, medieval England. To quote the English philosopher, Hobbes, life then was “nasty, brutish, and short.” And this is coming from a guy who lived when indoor plumbing hadn’t been invented yet. 

Life expectancy for the average, non-land-owning medieval person was around 27 years! Even if you managed to live like (or be) a king, you were only going to add five or so years onto this expectancy. There are two not-too-surprising culprits for this: war and disease.

Yes, we still have plenty of war and disease going on in 2023, but these are fairly limited in scope and reach compared to what the average medieval person would experience. War touched nearly every person back then (there was the 100 Years War that raged between England and France), and disease was much more lethal and widespread. The Black Death of the mid-14th century wiped out almost half of Europe.

What made disease so much worse in that time was the fact that it was so darned cold everywhere. A small hearth fire was all that could keep families warm through months of brutal winters, and it’s not like anyone had any of those North Face down jackets. Heat was a life-sustaining luxury then that most of us consider now as an afterthought. Think about that the next time you wrestle with your co-worker over the office thermostat! 

So, it’s with heat in mind that we at RPost are pleased to report that we were selected by one of the leading tech analysts, Aragon Research, as Hot Vendor of the Year for eSignatures and digital transaction management. In Part II of Aragon Research’s Hot Vendors for 2023 report, Aragon Research selected RPost as one of two eSignature / Digital Transaction Management vendors that are making an impact in the market as the most noteworthy, visionary, and innovative.

Medieval life was very much about tradeoffs: cheaper land vs. lower life expectancy, cleaner air vs. terrible roads. So, I would ask you: Would you prefer to work with an eSign provider that is fully integrated into Office 365, iManage, NetDocuments, Gmail, Caret, and with Google, Microsoft and AzureAD SSO?

Or would you prefer to focus on an eSign provider that declares in its manifesto a commitment to feature-richness, security and privacy compliance, the highest levels of legalities, and an elegant user and admin experience?

Or perhaps you’d like to show off to your teams that you found an eSign provider that is friendlier to work with and costs less than half of what other large eSign vendors charge so you and they don’t need to ration or share user licenses?

With RSign, you’ll get ALL of this thanks to 21st century technology! If you choose to work with us, you can forego any future discomfort in being stuck with a “Hlēow” provider. (For the curious, “hlēow” is Old English for lukewarm).

And it gets better! As a testament to RPost’s service friendliness, if you are in an existing contract with another provider, we’ll even provide a “buyout” option that lets you ramp up RSign economically while your other provider fades out over whatever months are remaining. Plus, we’ve teams standing by to help you migrate any templates and create great automation rules. 

Feel free to contact us to learn more about RSign, an eSignature platform so hot that I think it could have raised medieval life expectancy by at least 20 years or at least saved squires a ton on parchment costs 🤔.

[itsmeklaynnn]

Living in the Philippines is costly as hell

Yeah, as the title suggests, it really is costly here in the Philippines when you're not from a rich family.

Hell is a strong word, let's change that. Living in the Philippines is costly as *redacted*.

Anyway, as you all know, the Philippines is a really really beautiful country, from its stunning beaches to its delicious food, it is no doubt that the Philippines is one of the best countries in Asia, or even the best country in the world (totally not biased at all).

Recently, I've been watching vlogs on Facebook because for some reason Facebook keeps recommending me tourist vlog videos even though I'm not a tourist. As I was saying, Facebook has been recommending me vlogs from foreigners visiting the Philippines and they all have something in common, they all keep promoting the Philippines as this country which offers cheap prices for everything, whether it be hotel check-ins or simple street food. BUT THEY FORGET THAT THEY'RE TALKING FROM A FOREIGNER'S PERSPECTIVE!!!

Although yes, they have a point, compared to other countries, the cost of living in the Philippines is indeed lower. According to some statistics, the average cost of living is 52.0% lower than in United States, which is significantly lower.

But with that in mind, you may ask, why do I still think that living in the Philippines is costly? Spoiler Alert: Inflation!!! As time went b(u)y, the inflation rate in the Philippines grew by a mind-boggling 8.7% in January 2023 according to the PSA or Philippine Statistics Authority. But let's face it, we don't really care for numbers. I'll just give an example :D

In 2016, My mother went grocery shopping with me and our budget was around more or less 2k. With that kind of money, we were able to fill up the grocery cart to the brim.

AMAZING

In 2018, we went out grocery shopping again, same old same old, 2k budget. But as we were at the counter, I noticed that the full cart of groceries we had 2 years ago was only about half or a little bit over than half the cart. I paid no mind to it because I didn't really think about products getting expensive, I just thought about the food we were going to have for the night :D

Fast forward to 2023, 2k isn't even enough to fill half of our cart now, which is just weird because our money didn't change over the years.

That's just one example of the costly living conditions in the Philippines, bro don't get me started on transportation. GOD.

PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION IN THE PHILIPPINES IS...*deep breath*

HELL. ON. EARTH.

LIKE WHAT?? BRO YOU GOTTA SPEND A MINIMUM OF 20 MINUTES JUST TO WAIT FOR A RIDE THAT'S ACTUALLY RIDEABLE HERE.

AND DON'T GET ME STARTED ON THE CONDITIONS OF SOME JEEPNEYS HERE GRRRR

okay, klayn, calm

Maybe I overexaggerated a bit, just a tad bit (no not really but for the sake of keeping my sanity yes). The transportation system here in the Philippines isn't really great per se.

Though cheap, the cost has been inflating over the years (but to be fair, everything is becoming more expensive). Back then around 2016 to 2018, if I remember correctly, commuting in a jeep only costed around 8 pesos or cheaper if you were a student or a senior citizen.

Now it costs 12 pesos??? WHERE DID THE 4 PESOS COME FROM???

okay, again, to be fair, diesel is expensive. BUT STILL, it's kinda interesting how prices change over the years.

y'all may argue that 12 pesos isn't a big change from 8 pesos, nah man believe me it is, especially for students and people who are in a strict budget.

It doesn't help that commuting in the Philippines is a hassle, especially during rush hours.

Imagine this, you're tired from work or school, you're exhausted and you just wanna go home. You need to wait around 10 to 15 minutes for a ride that has 1 or 2 seats left available, imagine how cramped that ride is. You need to be mindful of your belongings because pickpockets take advantage of the cramped space and your exhausted state.

That's the feeling of the average commuter here, thinking about it is already exhausting, think about the people who do this in a daily basis. Sucks to be a commuter but yeah that's reality for most of us.

Anyway, although the Philippines is the dream getaway for a number of people, living in the Philippines can be exhausting and draining if you're not used to these kinds of things. The Philippines is a beautiful place for sure, but living here is a whole different story. All I can say is living in the Philippines is not for the faint of heart.

TL;DR: The Philippines is costly for the average Filipino and commuting here sucks.