I am tired. Now that the lawn tractor is finally working again, I have been working my ass off getting the yard back in to shape. It's far from being in shape, it just looks much better than it did last year or even last week for that matter. This is going to drive Dave next door nuts that I am now able to be anal about my lawn again. He's going to have to mow more often now.

Until my tractor broke 18 months ago, Dave and I used to have lawn mowing wars going on with each other. First he'd mow, so then I had to mow so that my lawn was the same length as Dave's. Or vice versa. It didn't matter, I'd mow, he'd mow, he'd mow, I'd mow. We both probably have an acre each in front right next to each other that has to be mowed at the same time or they look funny. That's why we have lawn mower wars.

I got most of everything that can be mowed mowed now. The rest will have to be weed whacked. Dave has my weed eater over at his house right now trying to fix it. Like all my other lawn equipment, the weed eater was very expensive and had a million and one attachments. So to avoid having to replace it, Dave is trying to fix it up for me. You can see that Dave and I are good friends, despite the lawn mower wars. If you knew how many times Dave has fixed the John Deere for me you'd understand how good of friends we really are. In fact, Dave is part of the reason I was willing to buy this shitty, fucked up house here next door to Jill and him. We had been very good friends before I bought this place. Now we are ever better friends. Lucky for him, I am just as anal about my yard as he is about his. Hence the lawn mower wars.

Glen and Garrett (Glen's new boyfriend) went out and burned that damn weed/bush that's been growing on the front of the property for the last zillion years (long before I bought the place) yesterday. Johnny (Glen's son) cleaned up all the big ass rocks that were around it and now I can mow that area for the first time ever. Slowly but surely, this place is going to come together and look like a home that someone actually cares about again.

Glenny just called and says Johnny's mom said we can have him for the summer. I can't tell you how overjoyed we are about that. Getting him away from the little hoodlums he has been hanging around with will help that kid immensely. He's 12 1/2 years old and going into the worst time a kid can go into, "the terrible teens". This kid is going to have structure in his life for the first time ever. He's going to join karate immediately. So he'll be there 4 days a week getting his ass whipped into shape by Sensie Patrick. Hopefully by the end of the summer he will have his orange belt, something to be proud of attaining.

I can't wait. We are all so excited for him to get here for the next 3 months. He will have so many adults here who love and care about him it's not funny. Right now, he has his aunt (who he calls Mom) who has custody of him. It's not the best situation, but at least he has a home. His biological mother is a crack head who dumped him when he was an infant and has never looked back. Here he will have many adults actively involved in making sure he is learning the right things he needs to learn in order to make good decisions in his life. Right now he is headed down a road that will lead him off to some not so good things, like prison if someone doesn't stop it and do some intervention right now.

I'll keep you updated on his progress as the summer goes on.

Now I am off to work. Hope everyone has a great day!

 

I dreamed last night that Glen and I were somewhere like Las Vegas or Monte Carlo. I am going with Monte Carlo because it was darker and more old worldish. At any rate, he woke me up and pulled me out of my room because we were going shopping. I was stumbling around half awake trying to get ready when I looked in the mirror at myself. To my total shock and amazement, somewhere in the middle of the night my hair turned jet black. Not the kind of black it was when I still had black hair, but black like a very bad dye job. It was dull and grungy and about 3 inches longer and way more shaggy than it is now,  and the clothes I had thrown on (obviously mine) we very grunge, like I was a bad rock star. I also no longer had wrinkles on my face or neck, but I wasn't any younger, nor did I look any younger, I just looked smoother than I do now.

I still don't get that dream. I just know I was ceratinly shocked. My mouth hit the floor in my dream. I was like "What the fuck!?"  I suppose I will never get that dream, but it would be nice to understand why my subconscious dredged that one up for my personal night time viewing pleasure.

Maybe I really do win the lottery and get that plastic surgery done. Maybe it's a prophetic dream of me and Glen globe trotting after a trip to Thailand to have all this plastic surgery done that we want. Maybe. Yeah right. <grin>

I do know there is no fucking way I am going to dye my hair dull black or go for the grunge look at my age (or any age, I was more goth than anything else in my youth). Oh well. Just thought I'd share that tid bit of dream information with y'all.

I went to check out this plastic surgery proceedure several weeks ago up in Springfield. Mainly I wanted to see the results and then of course the cost. It's a relatively simple, in office proceedure, it takes less than an hour to perform. There is of course follow up and you have to spend the night near by, but other than that, it's relatively fast and sort of painless.

Basically what it does is get rid of your turkey neck. Turkey neck is something that I suffer from very seriously now that I have lost so much weight. Unfortunately it only gets worse and worse the more weight I loose. If I had copious amounts of HGH still running through my system, the turkey neck would not be there screaming at me in the mirror everyday. Unfortunately, like every other middle aged human being, my HGH levels are near Zero, hence the lack of elasticty in my skin.

The plastic surgery proceedure would cost over $5000 by the time all was said and done. Far more than I am willing to pay, unless of course, I win the lottery.  So knowing that the only way I am ever going to afford the copious amounts of plastic surgery that I actually do need is to win the lottery, I kind fo have plastic surgery on hold in my mind for now. At least I know how much American doctors charge now for such a simple proceedure.

Now if for some unknown reason my father didn't change the will after Helen passed away, I am the sole heir to his estate. That's a nice chunk of change. Of course, I decided long ago when I first found out I was the sole heir to his estate that I would share it equally with my siblings and my mother (if she was still alive at the time). I knew why I had been made the sole heir, I was after all the only child who had anything to do with Dad. My brothers in their anger over all he did to us when he left our family turned their backs on him. I am not sure why I didn't turn my back  on him. Maybe because I was the only female child and I adored him beyond words, I am not sure, I just know all I did was grieve and want him back.

I never let him go from my heart and I cried out to God or whomever would listen to send my father home to me again. So when he finally did come home again (somewhere in my mid 30's) I was estatic to have my father at least "in country" and not galivanting around the globe to god forsaken countries I had never heard of. Of course, he still left and travelled the world even after his "retirement". He didn't really come home until after Helen died. And then he came home and stayed, the life knocked out of him by Helen's passing.

I called my brothers and ripped them new assholes a year or so before Helen died about Dad. Told them to get off their self righeous, sanctimonious asses and call Dad and get to know him again before it was too late. Reluctantly they did just that. Now they have relationships with him. Which is why I am pretty sure I am no longer the sole heir. Dad is pretty good about making sure little things like that are in order.

So that means that I will get a third, just like the rest of my siblings. I'll end up paying off my mortage, not getting plastic surgery. Because I am practical like that. But the truth is, I would rather have my father than his damn money. He's dangled that money over my head (and my brothers the last 10 years) like the sword of Damaclese. And like my brothers, I took his offered money when I needed it and sometimes not. In retirement, my father makes 3 times what I make running my own business. His condo is paid off (he paid cash for it when he bought it, cahs proceeds form the sale of his condo on Puget Sound in Redmond, WA).

I just want my Dad. Want him back like I had him when I was a kid. That of course will never happen. We will continue this relationship some other place, somewhere, some other time.

As I write this, it is a few minutes before my actual birthday. You all knwo how old I am turning, so I have no need to mention it here. I don't think I am doing anything tomorrow. I certainly wasn't planning on a celebration of any kind. I don't really need or want one. I know I am getting a pair of much needed shorts. Seems I am nearly out of clothing to wear again. I keep shrinking out the the old ones.

It's all good though, it keeps me in style. At least I am not wearing things that are 3 years old anymore. I can't, they hang on me now and I have given most of them away anyway. In fact, except for something that has some sentimental value, I have given all of my old clothes away.

Perhaps I will report on my day tomorrow, perhaps I won't. Any way you look at it, it's still all good <grin>.

 

Ciao!

The day Jerry Falwell died, Sue called me up about an hour after Glen and I saw the breaking news on CNN. I casually asked Sue if she had heard that Jerry Falwell had just died. She answered me with "Who's that?"

Now you have to understand that Sue is the least political person you will ever meet. While the rest of us good queers were busy fighting the Jerry Falwell and the Moral Majority in the 80's, Sue was busy doing everything but being politically aware. Part of that was because she was a teenager and young adult, but the other part (especially in the late 80's and early 90's) was because she was oblivious to almost everything that was happening around her in the world except for that which was directly in front of her face.

I like to think of Sue as "Every Man".  Every Man is oblivious to almost everything around them except for that which directly effects their day to day life. So like Sue, "Every Man" is out there thinking "Jerry Who?"

Finally in this brief conversation, Sue says "Oh yeah, the Hate Guy."

I thought she put it rather succinctly. The Hate Guy. Yes dear, the Hate Guy. His legacy put simply by someone who can barely remember him. Which is the majority of the population in this country.

On AOL that afternoon, they had those silly little multiple choice questions in their little blurp about Rev. Falwell. The question was, "What do you think Jerry Falwell will most be remembered by?" The questions were innocuously enough put, nothing that would piss any Fundies off anyway, but that whole question got me to thinking about legacies.

Sue, who is American "Every Man" as much as you can get said it best. He will be remembered for being the Hate Guy. That made me think hard about what my legacy would be. I decided that I wanted my legacy to be the Love Guy.

I fall dramatically short of being the Love Guy. So that means I have to work harder on being the Love Guy. The Unconditional Love Guy. So my meditation last night was about finding that place within me that is always the Love Guy. It's gonna take a lot of meditation to become the Love Guy I want to be. A real lot.

A legacy of love or a legacy of hate, which would you chose for yourself?

Kaitlyn calls me her best J ever. I always point out that I am her only J ever so far. I also like to point out that I made her and without me she would not exist, at least not as we know her.

I was thinking this morning while we were cuddling, just before she and Sue left for Shalom's house, that Gina and I used to cuddle on the couch while watching TV. I was thinking that it's hard to cuddle on the couch watching TV with K because there are no good family shows on TV anymore. There's no Eight is Enough or The Waltons or Little House on the Prairie anymore.

There's no ALF, Square Pegs, Hill Street Blues, no Cagney and Lacey or Famliy Ties, no Cheers or Miami Vice or Facts of Life. No Golden Girls or Who's the Boss. I won't go on, most if not all of these end up in rerun hell on Nick at Night now or somewhere on some obscure channel lost in the myriad of channels available out there in the ether. It's just not the same as back in the day when you had maybe 10 or 12 channels (if you lived in the big city), 3 of which aired that network fare in primetime.

As Gina grew up, she got too big to really lay in my lap and watch TV anymore. So basically she just laid her head in my lap and I stroked her hair while we watched TV in primetime. All the way up until the day I left that house forever. We would watch a bit of TV together when she came to visit at my apartment, but it was never quite the same. When she finally moved in to that soroiety house a few months later, it never happened again. She was 17, all growed up and moved away from home.

Kaitlyn lays on the couch and puts her head in my lap to watch TV too. But it's not the same. I seldom watch TV. In fact, I despise TV now. I will watch 3 things, American Idol, ER and Medium. Everything else sucks in my eyes. It keeps me from sitting there petting my child's head and bonding. I just don't give a rat's ass about TV. It annoys me most of the time. I do everything I can to block the noise out and when I can't, I go in my room to attempt to block it out.

I like those bumper stickers that say Kill Your Television. I would like to kill my television, but my family would wither away and die without it I think. <heavy sigh> Sad eh?

So I have special moments with Kaitlyn in my room where there is no television, or screaming noises. Just serenity and calm, as is the bedroom of any Taurus seeking solitude. In my world there is no chaos, just peace, calming serenity, quite, a place to meditate, to contemplate, regenerate. That is where I take her, in to my room and on to that bed with all those millions of pillows and there we sit and talk or cuddle, sometimes just being.

I am not a lot of fun with kids. I don't have the energy to have physical and even mental fun much. Lately, in the last few years, it's like the joy has gone out of life for me. I know why. I know pretty much exactly why and frankly, there's not a damn thing I can do about it. I have attempted in my own way to rectify this situation, to bring joy back into my life, but it is always short lived and then I am back to where I was before. Listlessly moving through each day in my heart. Wounded and healing from the wounds of attempting to find joy once again.

It takes a lot of energy to heal from heart wounds. Sucks the life right out of you.

I wish there was 80's television still on in primetime. Sitting there mindlessly wasting time being entertained while stroking your child's hair has a healing effect on the human heart. I made it through the 80's with hope in my heart that I could have the life I envisioned. Even though in it's own way you could say my personal culmination of the 80's was the most horrific experience anyone could ever want to experience. Despite the insanity of my world, I still had the gentle sweet spirit of a child needing her head stroked every night whiel watching TV. In all the dysfunction of my mid through late 20's and half of my 30's, I had the touch stone of a child's unconditional love through it all.

I am a much different being now. Much older, much wiser, much sadder. I look at the world my child will inherit and I weep because I cannot protect her from it all. I can't stop the powers that be from doing what the are doing/have done to take away people's individuality and uniqueness. All I can do is love my child unconditionally. And I cannot take the sorrow in my heart away. I can only do what I can to center myself, take responsibility for my own actions and let everyone and everything else go.

And just go on, because the alternative is not an option I want to explore at the moment. I keep thinking there is a great secret around the corner that I am goign to experience or learn. I am not ready to take the alternative route just yet.

And love my family, give them all I have to give, as best I can. Take care of me so that I have something to give, to them and to me.

Such is life as I know it now.....

 

That's a picture of me the day before Christmas. Take 20 some odd pounds off that and you have me today. Maybe I will have Sue take a pic of me tomorrow so you can see the difference. The gut is what is really going away. But according to experts, diabetes causes guts to grow expotentially. In fact, it's one of the symptoms experts in the field look for when diagnosing Type II diabetes.

My blood sugar average for the last 3 months pleased my doctor on my visit Thursday. Apparently the Byetta is really working. She's happy, I am happy. I lose weight, my eye sight came back, it's all good right? Well, actually, yes, it really is all good. I feel better than I have in years and I weigh less than I have since I was 19 years old.

She has been giving me B-12 shots the last couple of visits. I asked for them because taking B-12 sublingually sucks big time. I honestly cannot tell the difference when she gives me the shot. Sometimes I think it's a placibo shot. My ass sure hurts after the shot, but that is all I ever feel so far. It seems I cannot absorb B-12 like regular humans, hence the sublingual and shots. I came up with a serious deficency of B-12 in that barage of tests I took back in January (I think I may actually have those paid off now, but I am not sure). My iron was good, but my B-12 was bad. I guess they have something to do with one another in some way so that when you are low in B-12 on a test and not iron, they can tell it's your ability to absorb it in your stomach. Mine apparently is fucked up and doesn't absorb B-12. I knew I wasn't perfect, I just didn't know in which way I wasn't perfect. Now I do. <grin>

I am rattling on right now because I don't want to feel. A friend of ours is gravely ill and has been sent home from the hospital to die. He's the sweetest person you could ever know. It's Kaitlyn I am concerned about. Sue and I know about death. Kailtyn, despite the thousands of pets she has endured the deaths of in her 8 1/2 years, still has yet to experience the death of human being she actually knows and loves. Kaitlyn adores Shalom. She doesn't understand that he will probably not be able to respond to her because of the severity of his stroke. Sue and K are going to see Shalom tomorrow. K doesn't understand that he cannot see all the beautiful pictures she drew him because his eyes cannot open because of the stroke.

But he will know she is there. What a sweet, gentle and loving being he is... K will miss riding on his motorized wheel chair with him. And telling him her stories that he so patiently sat through. I will miss him sitting through my boring stories too. What a patient soul he is....

He won't be there this summer helping out at EK. His spirit, but not his body. It just wore out and it was his time. I am not sure what his kids are going to do with him. His life partner Carolyn died several years ago. He has no family members here to make the decisions about what will happen to him or where his remains will be taken. I am not sure, but I know that he will probably not care what is done with his remains. Shalom wouldn't put up much of a fuss about what happened to his body after death. It's us who will put up the fuss about saying goodbye. And we will do it up Eureka style. Whether there is a body there or not.

We'll say goodbye in a most fitting for Shalom manner. It will probably be more of a celebration of life than anything else. Because that is the way Shalom would want it... celebrate his remarkable, loving life. And just life in general.

Catch you late Shalom, be good man!

 

So last night we went to the Shaw's house for Misty's birthday party. I pigged out. I ate everything in sight. Everything but the birthday cake. I did my Byetta before we left here and had to eat something before we left because you can't take these diabetic drugs and not eat within an hour or your blood sugar will drop to dangerous levels (like as in comatose levels). So I ate what amounted to about 2 oz of cottage cheese and then we took off to their house.

When we got there there was the usual assortment of chips on the serving bar. I of course ate lots of corn chips and a couple of almost every other kind of chip before dinner was served. Then dinner was served. Dinner was cold cuts and a bunch of other yummy things that I love. I ate 2 pieces of turkey, some bread with pimento spread on it, a bunch of sliced pepperocinis and 2 slices of cucumber with some fresh homemade guacamole on them. Needless to say, I was stuffed.

I so wanted to eat more turkey with some more peppers on it, but I couldn't force down another bite of anything. Having attended a million and one birthday parties at their house I should have known that there would be buttloads of chips out there to eat when I arrived. I shouldn't have eaten the cottage cheese. That took up way too much space in my already shrunken stomach.

That's the only real problem with this Byetta stuff (that and you have to jab a needle in your gut twice a day to inject it). You just can't eat. More than anything, you don't want to eat. Unfortunately, you have to eat. So everyday after every injection, I force myself to eat so that my blood sugar doesn't drop down and I go into a coma. I seldom get hungry. Food has become a chore more than anything. Well, eating has anyway. Whether I like it or not I have to ingest something and something that has nutritional value in order to not go into a coma and still stay healthy.

Such is my life these days. Work, take my meds, go to the doctor, once in a while visit with friends. Boring eh?

Let me tell you about friends. The last year or so I have gone in to this state of shell shock when it comes to other people. I trust no one anymore. I can't tell you the name of one person I actually trust completely. I know why I feel this way. It's because no one I know (or probably ever have known) has the same perception of loyalty that I have. About the only time I would turn my back on someone I have pledged my loyalty to is when they are so seriously into their dysfunction (ie: drugs, alcohol, whatever makes them selfishly hurt other people without regard to whom or how they are hurting others) that they begin to effect my life to my detriment.

I call it tough love when I have to walk away from someone who has a very serious dysfunction that causes them to harm themselves and others. It also takes everything in me to give up on someone and walk away. I try to always leave a door open that they can return by if they ever come out of denial about their behavior, get the help they need and get healthy. But until they do, I just can't have their sickness infecting my life to the point that they are causing me serious distress (mental, physical, emotional, spiritual, financial, whatever). I can't allow my life to be destroyed because of something they need to do to fix their own self.

Tough love hurts bad. Mainly because you have to walk away from someone you love deeply. Like having to walk away from a pathological liar that you love as your own flesh and blood is heart breaking, but necessary for self preservation nonetheless. What you hope is that some day they wake up and come out of denial, seek out the help they need to heal and then maybe, just maybe come back to you (and the multitude of others they have harmed) and attempt to make amends.  I never hold my breath, but I do send out prayers for healing for them. Not for me, but for them. Because you know damn well they are going to continue to harm themselves and others until the day they die if they don't heal.

Such is life. After Shewhoshallnotbenamed, I trust no one anymore. I trust some people to a point, but I cannot trust anyone completely with all of my heart every again. Well, ever again may be an over dramatization on the subject (I should get an Academy Award for this one), but it's how I feel right now. I just cannot see me ever finding another soul that I could trust with all of my being ever again at the moment. What do they call that thing where you are so wounded from an experience that you are like a zombie going through the motions? Ah yes, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. People coming back from war have it bad. So do people who live through shit like a major natural disaster. Tornadoes, earthquakes, hurricanes, shit like that.

That's how I feel right now, like I survived a major incident in my life of extremely severe magnitude. Like I lived through a 9.0 earthquake. And of course, FEMA never came to help, or what they did do was worse damage than the damage the quake or hurricane caused. I am just shell shocked. Even in her worst paranoid schizophrenic state Debbie (who told me daily she was going to kill me while I slept) never made me feel quite so fucked. When that was all finally over and I was safely away from danger, I had a support system there to tell me I was going to be ok and that I wasn't crazy and that I would some day heal from it all.

I don't have that from what Shewhoshallnotbenamed did to me. I have no one except Glen telling me that I really did experience all the shit she did to me (because he was there and saw it happen), but she is also his family member. He still has to deal with the ramifications of all she is still attempting to do to me through his family. It is after all, his family. Even though she is not his blood family member, he still has to deal with the fact that her father is married to his mother and nothing is going to change that any time soon. And everyone else who was involved even if only on the sidelines is not around anymore. I lost them all to their desire to stay the hell out of the situation or to their own devious involvement in this sordid mess.

There is nothing I can do about Shewhoshallnotbenamed's emotional and mental illness. And only those who have been or become extremely close to her will ever see just how sick she really is. So I am stuck with no one to support me while I work through the trauma caused by that relationship. I can't ask Sue for a variety of reasons. Most of all it's just not fair to her because of her relationship with me. Expecting your girlfriend to be there to console you while you attempt to heal is really not cool. At least not in my eyes.

I went from sad and grieving the senseless ending of my friendship with Shewhoshallnotbenamed, to seriously pissed off (because of the Chinese water torture effect) and I have stayed there until recently. Now I just don't give a shit anymore in that I just want her to go away and stop lying about me. I am tired of all the people she has lied to about me giving me those condescending judgmental looks down their noses at me. I never thought I would ever be able to or want to say this, but at this point, I almost hate her. Whatever love I once felt has become this seething hate. And honestly, I don't want to feel that way. About her or anyone.

I just want her to stop torturing me with her lies about me to other people. I can't make her fix what she has done, that will happen when pigs fly (if you see a pig flying let me know), but I at least want her to stop making me out to be satan to other people. I want to walk away and never hear yet another piece of bullshit she has said to other people about me again. Why she thinks her lying doesn't get back to me I will never know. But it does, big time. Almost daily and certainly weekly.

And so all I can do is do what I am doing and work through how I feel by myself. I am still waiting for someone to tell me I am justified for feeling hurt, betrayed, stabbed in the back, blah, blah, blah. That will also happen when pigs fly. In the meantime, I meditate, try to cleanse myself of the negativity that is dumped on me daily from the negative energy sent my way from other people's thoughts and feelings about me. I work on centering myself and just going on with life and doing what I have to do to heal from all this shit, physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and financially.

I told someone yesterday that I take full responsibility for all that happened with her. I told them I was responsible for bringing her into my life. For letting her in that deeply, so deeply that I was almost utterly ruined by her presence. He said I don't have to do that. She was just as responsible as I am. Yeah ok, whatever, I am still the dumbass that let her in and chose to trust her utterly and completely. How many times in my life have I said never again? Billions I assure you. Never again. Right. Right now I would tell you with a swift certainty that I will never let anyone that close to me again. I learned my lesson right? Right.

Never again. There is a deep lesson here. And I will learn it. I just have to keep healing from it all at the moment and look for the lesson as I heal. I have no other choice. It's that or just die and learn this same lesson elsewhere in some other lifetime. I'd rather get it over now. Learn whatever wisdom is in all this and go on.

Right O' Buckaroos. Life's a bitch and then it's a bitch. A Hobicht.

I had this pair of shorts on yesterday that I wear to do yard work. I of course, was doing yard work. They were pretty loose on me yesterday. This morning, when I was getting dressed just so that I wouldn't be nekkid around the house, they fell off of me. These were shorts that I bought at Old Navy last spring or summer. Somehow between yesterday and today, they got bigger. Actually, I got smaller. Between yesterday and today I managed to lose 3 more pounds. Between last week and today I have lost over 10 pounds. I guess that was enough to make them fall off my ass.

At any rate, it reminded me of the fall/winter before last and I was also losing large quantities of weight. My pants got so big on me that they would fall off without a belt. I had a problem with the belt however when I reached the last hole and the belt was still too big to be tight enough to hold my pants up. I used my trusty pocket knife to cut a hole in the belt. It looked nasty, all torn and frayed looking. I was at Tad's one day and Shea noticed I was losing weight. So I showed her my belt problem. She immediately told me how that could be rectified. She walked out to her truck and grabbed her cordless Dewalt.

Now you have to understand that Shea and I had this ongoing discussion/argument about what drill was better, Mikita or Dewalt. She has a Dewalt and I have a Mikita (actually I have like 3 Mikitas, but only one do I use on a regular basis).  So when she whipped out her Dewalt, she told me she was going to show me exactly how much better a Dewalt was than my punty Mikita.  She selected an appropriate bit size and with my belt still on me, drilled a hole to make my belt hold up my pants. She also fixed the hole I had created with my pocket knife. It was wonderful having a belt that held up my far too large Dickies with holes that didn't look like I stepped right off the set of the Beverly Hillbillies.

I thanked her profusely and praised the Dewalt as the finest drill made by man. Don't get me wrong here, Mikitas used to be very fine power tools once upon a time. Now they are made like shit and break down often. I love my Mikata, but that is because it's all I have and it was free (to me anyway). Shea loves her Dewalt and she paid some real money for hers. Mine actually was a Christmas present from Sue 2 years ago, so you could say I inadvertantly paid for it through osmosis. I still love it and it still is the finest present Sue has ever bought me.

Anyway, I finally had to break down and buy new pants, despite Shea drilling at least 4 or 5 new holes in that belt over the course of the fall and winter of 05. That was at Shewhoshallnotbenamed's admonishment to get new clothes. Also, she got very jealous of Shea drilling holes in my pants and so it was time to not use that belt anymore anyway. Since that time I have gone through everything I owned (or at least what was in my dresser and closet) and gotten rid of everything I could no longer wear because it's too big for me. It took Shewhoshallnotbenamed and me two days to finish up this chore and bag up everything that needed to be given away to the thrift store (including the Dickies). It took that long because I had to try everything on to see how they fit before I made the ultimate decision to get rid of anything.

I only bought new shorts and summer clothes at that time. I had to break down and get new Levis as fall turned into winter this past year because I had absolutely no long pants left. Shewhoshallnotbenamed bought me one pair and I bought me the other. Sue bought me a pair of Tommy Hilfigar's that I won't wear now because Glen told me he is a racist and homophobic bastard.

Now those shorts and tops I bought last spring/summer are getting too big for me. It's ok because too big looks good for a while. It's when they fall off your ass while you are walking that they are not cool anymore. I can see a day coming soon where I will be going through the closet/dresser (this time alone) and ferreting out the too big clothes again.

I was walking by the mirror in the bathroom this morning with no top on, just those shorts falling off my ass. I hadn't really looked at me sideways in some time. I was shocked at how much smaller I appeared to me. Amazingly, this is the least I have weighed since I was 20 years old. I weighed 175 pounds (about 35 to 40 pounds over what I should weigh for my height and frame) when Pat and I got together when I was 19. By the time I was 20 I weighed in at around 220 and I stayed there for years. Then I got together with Debbie at age 25 and I shot up to 296 pounds by the time I was 30. When I was 29, I went into therapy. My therapist suggested that maybe my weight problem was because I had sexual issues as my weight gains only happened when I was sexually active with a regular partner.

Yeah well, she was right and since that time I did some serious work on my childhood sexual abuse issues (with a different therapist though). I guess it worked. I will probably never really know because I don't have sex anymore, so it's hard to tell if I would gain weight again if I had a regular ongoing sex life. The last time I was sexually active was over a year ago and that was with Shewhoshallnotbenamed. I didn't gain weight that I know of and during that time period was when I actually had to buy all those new, smaller clothes. On the otherhand, our sex life was sporatic at best and short lived back last winter and spring. So I don't know, maybe I am healed. I am certainly not going to go out and find someone to be sexually active with just to test that theory. I learned my lesson with the fiasco of Shewhoshallnotbenamed. Not that she was a theory I was attempting to test out, just that the whole relatinship was a fiasco for me.

Besides, as Glen likes to point out frequently, I have no hormones. Absolutely no desire to be sexual with anyone anymore. I want you non-post menopausal folk out there to know that losing your sex drive sucks big time. It was one of Shewhoshallnotbenamed's biggest complaints about me. No sex drive and no desire for sex. That and my temper. If she wanted sex, she had to initiate it cause I sure wouldn't. And if anyone else wants sex with me now it will be the same issue. You want sex with me, you have to initiate it cause I have no desire to have sex. Sucks to be me. I also want to share with you that your day will come if you are not there already (unless of course you are a man, then you will just get prostrate cancer and have erectile dysfunction <grin>). It is the road all biological females (who are not transitioning from FTM and injecting T on a regular basis) will experience.

Glen likes to point out that Shewhoshallnotbenamed's accusation to anyone that will listen that I was coming on to her is a joke, since I have no hormones. In a way that annoys me when he says that, but in another way I have to admit he is right. As annoying it is to know I have no sex drive or desire, it is still true that you gotta work my ass big time to get me to even notice you sexually. Just ask Shewhoshallnotbenamed,never mind, I forgot, she is denying that we were ever together too.

Not that this has happened much in the last few years but, any time someone has come on to me sexually online, doing that flirty thing with me to try to get me interested, I have no reaction whatsoever. In fact, it's annoying. Same thing happened to me in real life with Shewhoshallnotbenamed. She had to practically rape me to get me interested sexually. That might be a slight over statement, but not by much.

I want you to know that losing your sex drive sucks in many ways. Once you get a sex drive (somewhere in your teens) you kind of get used to it and it becomes a part of you. When you lose it, it's like losing a major part of who you thought you were. I am having to recondition my thinking around this lack of a sex drive. Having to relearn who I am without estrogen, progesterone and testosterone.

The last time I had no hormones I was a child. I am no longer a naive child. I am a fairly worldly grown up who has learned much so far in this lifetime (obviously not enough or I still wouldn't make dumbass decisions). I am learning to redirect my energies now. Having no hormones means I can take all that time wasted (depending on your view point) on sex and the pursuit of it and direct it to other productive things. Like now I spend my time (and money) working on me.

I go to the doctor now and spend the time and money on getting me well. I work out to make me healthier. I spend my time doing what is best to help me heal from a lifetime of doing things that made me horribly unhealthy physically. Which is why I am down to 209 pounds as of this morning. The least I have weighed in over 34 years.

Amazing what a pair of shorts falling off your ass will make you think about eh? And all because of a sweet, happy memory of a friend and her Dewalt.

 

Sanctimonious and judgmental, these two adjectives describe two attributes I find particularly reprehensible in human beings. I personally have been guilty of these two, less than evolved, character flaws on more than one occassion.

I certainly am quite able to recognise them when I see them in others. It's the proverbial "it takes one to know one". I wouldn't notice it in others if it were not something I myself possessed within my being.

One small thing I can say in my defense is that I do know it when I see it in myself and I am painfully aware of how abhorrent this behavior is.  Right now I am feeling a bit judgmental. There are people out there who will tell you that I am justified in my feeling this way. I keep telling myself that I should be above such behavior. Unfortunately, when confronted daily with the shit I am confronted with, it becomes increasingly more difficult to not be judgmental.

To judge someone and/or some situation, one must first have the whole picture of what has transpired. At that point, you can make the decision whether you will or will not judge the person or situation. What I am finding most difficult is not judging such things negatively when the repercussions of other people's actions bring you such incredible emotional, financial and mental pain, suffering and turmoil.

What I try to do is not feel the pain and turmoil. I can't do anything about the money, she already got all that while she was working me over pretending to be in love with me. But the rest of it I can do something about. I attempt to go within and squelch the feelings that arise when I am being assaulted from these "others". At this point, my guess is that if the assault had been only a few times, let's give it a number and call it ten major assaults on your person, I could have and would have continued to attempt to quiet my pain and anguish and forgive the beings attacking me. Unfortunately, it not only has been more that the ascribed ten times, it is at a point that it is becoming innumerable. It's hard to let things go when you are being "Chinese water tortured" on a daily basis by the same entities.

My newest assault is a sanctimonious judgment brought on by even more lies and slanderous statements being spread around this very small community about my person. What that really means is that people who are prone to being santimonious and judgmental have been handed a field day at my expense to judge the crap out of me.

Now, honestly, I wouldn't care if you were judging me for something I had actually done. But to judge me for something I am sincerely not guilty of doing, well, that just chaps my hide. What it does is piss me off to the max. You get to where the assaults no longer hurt, they just piss you off now. Which is where I am. Pissed off. And personally, I don't like being here at all. I don't want to be pissed off, I want her to go away and leave me alone. I want her to stop lying about me, and the people she has lied about me to to stop judging me for something I did not do. I want the lies unlied.

I was so willing to just walk away and chalk her up to a lesson learned in life. But she just couldn't do that, for whatever her reasons, she had to make up stories to justify whatever it was that she was doing/had done, was saying/had said to others. She had for whatever her reasons already built a web of lies before she fucked me over and then she had to keep the lies up in order to keep the people she was lying to on "her side". I can assure you there was no "side" to take in my mind. She was the one creating "sides". I just wanted her very sick and dysfunctionally painful behavior out of my life and I thought I told her that pretty nicely in my letter to her asking her to stay out of my life. Apparently she saw my letter as an affront to her being in some way. Probably because I had the audacity to call her on her shit.

I know that at the point that she revieved my letter that she believed that she had gotten me pretty well under control again. I think that is what she thought our little conversation on that warm Saturday afternoon in January was all about, "Getting J back under control". I was a lose end in her life that she had to make sure was tied up so that I didn't undo all the little things she was attempting to do at the time. And honestly, that is why this is all so funny in a sad way, I knew what she was doing, what she had done and what her end of that conversation was all about. Still I was willing to just walk away. I think she was mad because I was so evasive and agreeable. She saw me doing what I do best to get out of a bad situation with as little hurt as possible. She saw me cutting my losses and running with out her knowing that that is what I was doing. I think that is what really pissed her off.

And then of course, me, thinking her next victim was my real friend, tired to warn her, but of course at that point it was far too late for her to buy anything anyone else who had actual experience with her could tell her. That pissed her off, big time. And then to get a Dear John letter from me, well, that was the straw that broke that camel's back. She went after me with a vengence. And she hasn't let up since.

Now, I don't care what happens to her newest victim. In fact, I can't wait for her karmic pay back for thinking she pulled one over on me. And trust me, her new girlfriend will help her experience the worst karmic payback she has ever experienced. In fact, they will both fuck each other over big time. And that, I care little if anything for seeing. I just don't give a rat's ass anymore about either one of them or what they are going to end up doing to each other.

Such is life.

Sanctimonious judgmental asswipes. Those are the kinds of people she lied to about me. And those are the people judging me right now. I am so done with their negative energy being spewed my way. I am tired of sending their shit back at them. I just want them and her lies to go away and I don't care how that happens. There was a time I actually cared whether she was hurt by the things she had done. Now I just don't care. If karma bites her ass off, then so be it. I am done protecting her from herself. I have stepped aside. Now her, and everyone she has dragged into this little sorrid affair she created is going to find their own karmic payback.

Oh well, I am outta there. I hope they enjoy their lesson. Mine's over. I am breaking any and all karmic debt I might have with any of them. Whatever dues I had to pay have been paid and none of them, especially her, can do anything to me again. Not in this lifetime or any other.

I am done.