November 2001 in 2000s

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 2001
Paula left a message saying she changed her number cuz some girl’s been driving her nuts. Too bad she wasn’t out here. She could get her hung for it. It’s a Puerto Rican, though, so maybe not. Anyway, I left her a message.

In good news, we got water last night at 6:30! Yeah, with one last-minute tease from God, too. I guess we went hog wild and pumped too much water at once because the water stopped towards the end of my shower. He had to go and vent the well cuz of something related to the pressure and the warm air escaping from the well. We’ll pick up a vent with a screen on it sometime soon. We used a lot of water at once, though I don’t expect we’ll do this regularly. We used water for 2 showers, 2 loads of dishes, and 3 loads of laundry.

It was nice to be able to clean the mice’s air filter today, too.

We got water just in time too, cuz the water was evaporating from the traps and it was starting to stink in here. I had to pour some of the last of the water down the drains.

Walter arrived with his nephew just after noon, saying he got stalled by a bunch of sheep, and I was like, by a bunch of sheep? Where? There’s no sheep around here that’d get in the way of cars. It made me wonder if the gods didn’t materialize them out of thin air as a last-minute insult. Once Walter got here, he said he was afraid to leave until it was done. I wouldn’t have wanted him to leave, that’s for sure.

He’s going to return today or tomorrow to pick up his rig. The rig with the wench has been sitting here ever since.

What pissed me the fuck off were the nosy workers from in back that invited themselves over to stick their noses where they didn’t belong. They just breezed right by the no-trespassing sign as if it didn’t exist. I’m sick of people driving onto our land to butt into our business. I can’t wait till we have fences. They could still get in, but not as easily.

We called Mary at work to let her know they made it out here, then again later on in the early evening. She was really happy for us. So was I!

In case I didn’t mention it yet, Tom fixed the bird clock that stopped chirping a couple of years ago. It’s nice to once again hear the birds chirp at the hour. We never could figure out why they stopped. Something about his taking the thing apart is what fixed it.

I’m getting ready to start ripping CDs into MP3s so that I don’t have to spend so much time doing that when I get the MP3 player. Ripping to MP3s takes longer than waves.

My birthday came early this year. Tom and I went to the grocery store in Casa Grande, and I got two new dolls! And one of them is a redhead! Finally, huh? It’s just like Teddy Bear’s, only a few shades darker. Darker than what I last saw her with, anyway. She was $20 and I named her Misha (that is a really cute and unique name) and she’s a 22” with gray eyes and a not-so-nice dress. It’s old-fashioned with gray wool, but I liked the face and hair color enough to feel her dress was worth it. I can maybe change it someday. It has pink rosebuds, velvet and lace trim, and a brown satin hem. I polished her nails brownish-gold. Her brown beaded necklace was glued on at the nape of the neck. I’ve never seen necklaces glued on before. Fortunately, her hat wasn’t glued on. It was sewn to her wig, so I could cut it off since I’m not big on hats. She doesn’t wear shoes. They’re white heels that are a part of her mold like Summer Dream’s.

I also painted Colette’s nails black and an old, cheap doll’s nails, alternating between pink and purple.

All the other 22” dolls wore wedding dresses. They were nice, though. One held a pink floral bouquet and another had gold accents on its dress so it wasn’t so boring being nothing but white, white, white. I wonder if this is what Paula meant when she was talking about dolls wearing white.

The second doll I got is another one of those 10” sitting musical dolls. This one’s dress is gorgeous. It’s an orchid dress with pink and blue trim with a touch of silver glitter. She has a melon-colored rosebud on her chest and on her white shoes. She has gold, curly hair and blue eyes. I named her Tiffany.

Tom got his computer working again, so that’s good.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 29, 2001
We didn’t get water yesterday, and as soon as I awoke at 7:30, I knew we weren’t getting it today, either.

No words can express the red-hot liquid hate I feel for God and how strongly I wish I could yank him down from the sky and beat the shit out of him. Even Mom said to Tom last night on the phone, “Maybe God does hate her.”

Well, that’s been rather obvious for a long time now, hasn’t it? I’ve given up on asking why. I don’t know why, and I don’t care why. I just wish he’d leave us the fuck alone. Not even God can ignore those he hates. He has to torture them year after year.

I’m too pissed off to write anymore at the moment. All I know is that it’s going to be days before we get water if we don’t get it today, and we’re looking at a lot of trips into Phoenix in the meantime. But I know Phoenix would love to have us, so there’s nothing to worry about there.

Later…

I’m not sure if we’re going to get water today or not. I won’t believe it till I see it, but here’s an update so I don’t get too backed up.

The day and time I predicted we’d get water yesterday would’ve been right had God not inflicted punishment upon Walter for trying to help us and done things to stall us from getting water. Instead, at 1:30 that afternoon, I suddenly knew we weren’t getting water that day. Then by 3:00, I knew he wasn’t even coming. As it would turn out, the axle on his trailer broke, and that would’ve happened around the time my vibes changed. Everything was bought, though, so it was just a matter of having the pipe delivered to his house this morning, but what should God have happen to the poor person delivering the pipe? They got stuck. Then, after they got unstuck, a tire blew on this other old trailer of Walter’s, so he had to take it in to be fixed.

He’ll supposedly be here in about an hour, but I don’t know. This all makes me wonder if he’ll get killed en route to our place. Anything to keep us from getting water sooner. I’m nearly as worried for the guy as I am for us.

Then last night, as if God hadn’t shit on us enough already, he went and broke poor Tom’s computer. Talk about adding insult to injury! Two-year-old pumps and 6-month-old computers just don’t break. They just don’t. Nobody’s shit breaks like ours. Nobody’s.

What’s left for him to go after in this house and what will be next? The dryer? The lights? The roof?

I’ve really nailed this thing vibe-wise with uncanny accuracy. My psychicness really develops with age. In my early 20s, all I could do was get these little feelings here and there, but no details. Now I’m getting more accurate and more detailed with the things I see/sense.

Anyway, there’s a scattering of dead bushes alongside the washes. I broke up an ugly dead one yesterday while I was waiting hopelessly.

Although soft, and not audible in the house, I could hear Dan’s place thumping with music again. Hey, not hearing music on a 10-acre ranch in the middle of a weekday is simply out of the question, so what can I say?

If God will let us, we’re going to put up hedges, with or without a fence, in back. George’s dumpy little city is such an eyesore, let alone an invasion of privacy. They’ve got this ugly red writing now on one of the water tanks.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 2001
It looks like my Wednesday water vibe’s going to be right on. Come 3:00 yesterday with Walter still not showing up, I knew he wasn’t going to and that he’d call around 4:00. He called at 3:50 saying that the bank wouldn’t cash the check being a third-party check, so we had to go all the way back to Phoenix, the city that just won’t let us go, to get a check written from a different account and bank. Right now, Tom’s meeting Walter at the B of A bank in Casa Grande to give Walter the money in either a cashier’s check or cash. However he wants it. Then by noon, Walter should be here with all the parts needed to get us water by the late afternoon.

Fortunately, Tom had personal days stored up, so between this week and next, it’ll be a combination of personal days and vacation days he’ll take off. Next week he’s going to take off Monday through Wednesday. We decided not to go to Game Works because of all the holiday commotion, but we will do miniature golf.

My vibes have been amazingly accurate throughout this process. I was right about the footage, about the pump being bad, about him not showing up yesterday, about when he’d call, so now let’s just hope I’m right about getting water today!

Actually, he did show up yesterday to return the other check to us. We weren’t about to give him more money without getting that check back first.

When I went outside where he was talking to Walter, I thought Walter was playing music from his truck, but then I stepped back and realized it was Dan’s people. It was soft enough to hear plenty well outdoors, but not in the house. If this house were the Phoenix one, we’d hear it in here loud and clear. I’m sure it was coming from a car and not the house through an open window. It’s been cold, and I’d like to think no one could be that desperate for attention.

No one was in back yesterday to listen to either, and I hope they take today off too, though they never did end up being noisy. I only heard them for a few minutes. Maybe that’s because George spent most of the day back there, too.

We’re wondering if the reason APS hasn’t powered up the place yet is due to their having trouble passing inspection, but the longer that house is empty, the longer I get to live in peace if they truly are going to be noisy.

Tom says that by the subdivisions they’re building in the center of town, we have to get rich someday off this land. It’s a guaranteed thing. If this is true, then our struggling now is compensation of money later on, and not an everlasting curse, just like my shitty luck with women was compensated with Tom and Teddy Bear. I hope with Teddy Bear, anyway, if only for a year or two. The closer we get to May, the more I’ll be able to sense whether or not I’m going to see her.

Anyway, we weren’t at Mary’s long. She gave us $20 and let us load up 20 gallons of water for toilet flushing. Then we hit Circle K where he got gas and soda and I got hot coffee to warm me. As is 99% of our things, the heater’s broken in the car.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 2001
I don’t think I can concentrate on working on my bio right now, so here’s the latest well scoop. The cost will be $5,653. Mary and Dave met Tom at Harrah’s casino and gave him the check. Because it’s so much money, we agreed we’d give them a thousand dollars in January, though we didn’t tell them that. After making the comment to Tom about how I wish I could get a job to give half the money to charity since God wants us to give our money away, he said that maybe if I got a home job, I could give to Mom instead. Well, I have mixed emotions about that. First of all, I’ll never have a job. That’s just not meant to be, convicted felon or not. Second of all, in my eyes, Mom owes us. By now, she’s paid back all the money she took us for when she so selfishly took advantage of Tom around the time Dad died, but she can never pay us enough money for the time she stole from us. We were a new couple and going through a time when I needed him most, but she kept him away from me. She’d sometimes send home my favorite coffee with him, admitting he was at her house more than ours, and that’s nice, but that just doesn’t cut it as far as compensation goes. I’m all for milking the woman dry, as much as I love her otherwise because enough could never be enough or too much money from her, as far as I’m concerned.

Anyway, this shit with Dan just gets better and better. As it turns out, the cock gave us a used pump and then lied to us, telling us it was a 3-horsepower pump, when it’s really a 2 that can only pump 2 gallons a minute. This new one we’re getting is a 5-horsepower and it can pump 15 gallons a minute, so no more will we have to worry about not running dishes while doing laundry.

All my vibes were right, though. I said that unfortunately, the only thing Dan did tell the truth about was the footage, and yes, it is 785’. I also vibed the pump was fucked up, and true to what Walter said after testing it, it is fucked up. There was a hole in it cuz the fucker didn’t wrap that area like he was supposed to, and the pump was too small for that depth, so it overshot itself.

As far as what to do with Dan - my first impulse is to run over to his business and beat the shit out of him, but his wounds would eventually heal. Where we want to get him is where it’ll really hurt and for a long time too, which is his business. Tom wants to wait another year what with the way things are being so closely monitored cuz of all this terrorist shit. As soon as those fucking Arabs will leave us alone long enough, Tom will take care of him, along with Hall, the Public defender, Pig Bias, and the black bitch, if he can find them. I’d bet she’s got her number listed and is in the same place she moved to when she moved out of the house. Yeah, because she was never really scared of me. She’d welcome any calls or mail from me, believe me. Anything to use as ammunition against me so she could use and abuse the law against me again.

I checked online for Steven, but sure enough, he’s moved on to new areas and to gather new victims.

Tom knows enough about accounts to do things to Dan’s business, like transfer money out of his account, make checks bounce, etc. The less I know, the better it’ll be, he told me, and he can’t do the same thing for everybody. We can’t have an obvious common denominator there - a husband who works at a bank with a wife who has every reason to hate these people. It’s too bad I can’t be the one to decide what each one shall get. How fun that would be! After all, they got to decide my fate for a while. It’d only be fair if I could decide theirs, but life ain’t fair. It’s going to be something that’ll devastate them for years, though. It can’t be something they could recover from in just a few weeks or even a few months. We’re going on two years of picking up after Dan’s shit, and six for the freeloaders, so they definitely need to suffer more than just a handful of weeks/months.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 26, 2001
It’s not even 9:00 and the gold truck’s already in back with its music thumping away. Just how many hours am I going to have to listen to this shit? How many more days? Well, I’m not going to listen to it. If I have to listen to music, it’ll be my own. In fact, I’ve got a CD playing now. Tom said it’s doing skirting.

It’s no joke how they say that when it rains, it pours. Last night, God just had to let a hose blow on the car, and poor Tom had to fix that, too. Like he didn’t have enough shit to deal with already!

Today is Dan and Steven’s unlucky day. Tom had taken them off his shit list to concentrate on those responsible for getting me thrown in jail, but guess what? They earned their way right back on it. It looks like, from what I vibed and what the guy he talked to this morning said, that this latest problem is also Dan-inflicted because the stupid shitfuck used too much plastic piping where he should’ve used metal. It could also be that the pump overworked itself since the fucking cock installed a pump for a 500’ well in a nearly 800’ well. Either way, ma will pay the costs, but that’s still one more thing we have to deal with. Meanwhile, laundry’s going to get backed up, dishes are going to get backed up, and trash is going to get backed up since we’d never want to burn without a working hose right there to wet any sparks.

I’m just sick of us having to be the ones to pick up after other people’s messes!!! God’s favorite pastime for us - suffering for years at the expense of others’ fuck-ups or vengefulness.

Anyway, some guy’s going to be here any minute, and I wonder - how incompetent is this one? How much money will we lose? How many years will we have to spend recovering from this cock?

Damn the Gods for making us pay for others’ shit! What? Do we not fuck up enough ourselves to be allowed to just pay for our own fuck-ups? Meanwhile, I’ll bet you don’t have anyone fucking over your precious freeloaders now, do you, God? No, they’re invincible, aren’t they? Nobody can rip them off or inflict untold amounts of stress, depression and anger on them, can they? Well, mark my words, God. Not even you can protect your beloved freeloaders from us in the end!

I wasn’t going to diet till after New Year’s, but I have to start now, or else I’ll be well into the 130s by the time New Year’s rolls around. I’m not like Tom or Mary who can eat all they want and stay the same, though they’re more like 30-50 pounds overweight. I’m 123 pounds now and would be a lot more than that come New Year’s, so I’ll have to start watching what I eat now, or else I won’t be able to fit into my clothes. We can’t afford new clothes now.

It makes me wonder, though - how much would I gain if I kept eating whatever whenever? I can only begin to guess! I’d say I’d probably get up to the 140s - 150s, but I’ll find out someday. I’m not going to try to control my weight for the rest of my life.

If we reactivate the well, and there are some things that could cause us to have to abandon it altogether, I hope we can get storage tanks in here soon enough. That way, when we suffer yet again on account of Dan’s greed and stupidity, we can have water till it’s fixed. Meanwhile, we got about 20 gallons of water at Mary’s yesterday, after we took showers there, for toilet-flushing.

Pepper was all over me, as usual, being playful and lovey-dovey. I’m thinking more and more that we will get Pepper eventually. Mary and Dave don’t hate him, but they don’t want such an attention-needy dog around. With me being home all the time, I wouldn’t mind him following me around. Mary mentioned how he’d love running up and down the house here. I could just tell by the way they were talking that they’d go for it once we got fences. The only problem is we can’t get fences if we’re constantly having to play well and car.

Ma gave me some puzzles, and Mary and Dave got me some more memory for my computer which was really nice of them when they went out to get some for their own computer. It doesn’t make things within my word processor run faster, but it helps with other things. Especially when I have a lot of stuff open.

We also got pizza and Mary sent us home with the leftovers.

It looks like George is back there now. I hope to hell he hasn’t heard about this black/Mexican shit I’ve been through, though I don’t think he ever knew our last names. It’s just that he’s in favor of freeloaders, and if he knew about this shit, there’s no saying how that’d influence his picking out tenants for that house. Although, it doesn’t really matter. If God wants me harassed all over again by the same old shit, I will be. In fact, I’m sure he’s going to make sure the noisiest people move in there, no matter what George does or doesn’t know. With this rental being the closest one to us, why would he let us have quiet white neighbors?

Later…

I totally, totally regret moving here! God, I never thought I’d be so sorry! I knew God was going to punish me for moving from the city and lifestyle he wanted me to have, but I had no idea it’d be this extreme. He wanted me to live with lots of people and noise for a reason. The well’s going to cost nearly $6,000 to fix! This guy, Walter, who I got good vibes from instantly, said he’s heard of Dan and his scams. He says we’re not the only ones that got fucked over by him, which I figured. It’s a common practice for drillers to come in, fuck people over in a certain area, then move on and do the same old shit elsewhere. I’m sure Steven, who was connected to Dan, is now long gone. Remember, he worked out of his house.

I was always nervous when it came to God’s punishing us for moving, but now I’m scared. Literally scared. This is beyond punishment. This is a curse. The question is, how much more cursed will we be the longer we stay here? How much more money will we lose? We should’ve just stayed in the city, kept a just-grin-and-bear-it attitude regarding the freeloaders, and then I wouldn’t have had to go to jail for 6 months, spend $40 a month for the freeloaders, thousands in hotels for contractors, and then thousands more a couple of years later. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about what other curses lie ahead for us after fixing the contractor’s fuck-ups, and ridding our lives of the freeloaders if we ever can.

Unless our struggling is because we’re going to be compensated later on in life with lots of money, which I doubt, something really wants us to struggle. It just doesn’t want us to get ahead. Every time we start to crawl out of a new hole someone’s dug for us, we get kicked down another one. Why bother trying to get ahead if we’re just going to be thrown back?

How do we get rid of the curse? How do we hang onto our money? How do we stop others from victimizing us and getting away with it? This isn’t a few hundred bucks and a few hours of freedom that was lost. Between the freeloaders and the contractors, you’re talking many, many thousands of dollars and half a year of freedom. What? Would it make God happy if I chained myself up in the closet every so often? Should we give half our money to charity? He works hard for our money and we should be able to keep it and spend it in normal, legit ways. Not be forced to give it to our perpetrators or greedy incompetent assholes. When is the payback for leaving the city and getting such a big, beautiful house ever going to be enough? When one of us is dead? It’s like - fuck living on a boat! Like God would let us? Besides, if we’ve gone through all this shit just to change houses, I’d hate to think of all we’d suffer on account of dumping civilization and getting off of land altogether. He would kill us for that! It’s like God put us here to serve others at our own expense. It makes me furious with God to know that these well drillers can get away with fucking over numerous innocent people out of thousands, while I go to jail for speaking my mind to people that provoked me. People that gave me a reason to react towards them. And nobody can try to convince me that things wouldn’t have been different had I been black, Mexican or male.

Later…

We’re waiting for Walter to return to take the pump out. Tom said he’s hoping they lied about how deep the well is because if it is a case of bad pipes, then we won’t need as much and it won’t cost as much.

We couldn’t get that lucky.

He also hopes the pump’s okay too, though we know the motor’s running.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 2001
Well, we made it to late November before we finally had to turn the heat on. Tom said the cold woke him up at 4:00 in the morning. It was down to 67°. We didn’t even have it on for an hour, though. Once it hit 70°, I turned it off.

The bad news is that the well’s fucked up. We’re not sure if it’s drying up and needs to be blown out, or if the screen’s clogged. There you go, God. Just have us spend our money on the well so we don’t have any to spend on his vacation. And we know no reliable company to call to ask questions to, thanks to society’s incompetent little fuck-ups.

I’m going to try to hold a day schedule till mid-December. The first week in December is his vacation, but then I have to hold out a little longer for the freeloaders.

Tom said there was a message on the phone this morning as he was about to log in to the web. I immediately thought it was Paula. It didn’t do me any good telling Andy that weekends were a bad time to get me, so why should it do me any good telling Paula that? Well, it turns out that it was his work. He told them, “You want to bug me after hours, give me a beeper and pay me extra,” but like most people, they don’t listen.

Al Loomer really did say it right back in ‘88. He said I was someone that just did not like people. When I told the therapist I had at the time, Trisha Morrissey, that he said that, she said she didn’t think I disliked people, she thought I just feared them. No, Al had it right - I detest people. And if there’s any fear it’s only because they’re so fucked up that you just never know how badly their fuck-ups are going to fuck you up.

Later…

To say today’s been a shitty day is quite an understatement. First the well, and now one of the rentals is getting on my nerves with its fucking music. It could be coming from the old gold pickup that’s at the new place right now, but Tom says it’s unlikely that someone would invest in a stereo that expensive in such a dump of a truck. It started as soon as we went out there and they saw us. Tom said there was music coming from the other direction this morning. If the music I’m hearing now is coming from this truck, I better hope to hell that this person doesn’t end up being the one to move in there. This doesn’t mean, though, that whoever does won’t end up being just as noisy.

There was even a dog getting on my nerves too, but only when I was outside. This was coming from the front.

Anyway, it appears I’m not going to be able to wash my hair till Monday and that this well shit is going to cost us hundreds of dollars that we don’t have. That’s right - my teeth are all paid off, so now it’s time to replace that problem with a new expense. Anything to keep us from getting ahead. What’s the point in even trying to get ahead? All we do is get set right back. It’s either the control board up top or the pump, but either way, this shouldn’t be happening after just two fucking years! Our washer won’t work on the small-load cycle, our jet dry dispenser in the dishwasher breaks, and now this shit! Nobody’s shit breaks like ours. Makes me wonder if I should even bother getting an MP3 player. In fact, no I won’t. I’ll just finish burning my waves onto CDs once we get more CDs. I’ll no doubt have to put any money I get for my birthday and Christmas towards this well that’ll cost us hundreds, if not thousands, cuz we can’t count on his selfish mother helping us for sure. No, she’s too wrapped up in her own self, like hanging onto all her money in case she has to go into a nursing home someday. Even if this does happen, that could be ten years from now. She should be living in the present and putting her kids first, not herself. But she’s the kind that’s selfish enough to see Tom get sent to jail just so she could see him, rather than have him move far away and not be able to visit.

Well, maybe, just maybe, next year I can have a birthday and a Christmas after missing out on that twice in a row. Maybe.

This living on a boat someday is just a dream, though. God would never let us get that far away from civilization, anyway. I think this area will build up, but not in a way that’ll get us rich enough to live on a boat. Just in a way that’ll have more people and more noise.

Later…

It is the gold truck, and of course it’s a freeloader, too. I just saw the cock go into the truck and turn the music back on (it was off for a while). Also, a piece of shit doesn’t mean it can’t have a stereo like that in it. That ranchero whose stereo harassed the shit out of us was an old beat-up piece of shit. It’s a matter of priorities. Some people are demented enough to spend hundreds of dollars on a stereo just for others to hear than on a vehicle itself. A lot of these stereos aren’t bought and paid for in honest ways, either. They’re either stolen or bought with hot goods. Besides, Tom always tries to talk me out of believing certain sounds are coming from certain cars/houses. I guess he doesn’t want me to complain to them, as if I would even think of doing that after all that’s happened.

Anyway, it, and someone with a silver or white truck, is working on the electrical wiring by the house. Hopefully, with the fading sunlight, they’ll be gone soon. Of course, they’ll be back tomorrow, and God only knows how many more times after that.

No one can tell me we haven’t been punished by something up there for leaving the city. With the shit we went through to get into the house and then me being dragged back to live in the city for 6 months, it’s so obvious. And I knew it, too. I knew there’d be hell to pay for leaving the city. I just didn’t know it’d be so extreme. So, since we have to listen to music and dogs out here, we might as well have just stayed in the city and just gotten a newer, bigger house there. Then we wouldn’t have had to deal with wells or hauling water.

Oh, good. I just jumped up and checked and both vehicles are gone. Like this freeloader couldn’t have waited till it was pulling out to start the music? It just had to start it a few minutes before it left so we, and others, could hear it and notice them, huh?

Tom’s going to call this company to come out and check the well on Monday. He’s going to take that day off. He’s owed a personal day anyway. He keeps saying everything will be alright, but you know I can never believe anything’s going to be alright till I see it. What if everyone’s booked up and it’s weeks before we can get someone out here? What if they fuck us over and rip us off like the other company? Will we have water before we run out of dishes? He can’t even burn tomorrow. We only have enough water to flush the toilets about 20 more times, then that’s it. Of course, there’s laundry to be done too, and we could be in big trouble if we end up having to go too many days without water.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 2001
I finally got through to Paula. She’s the same old, same old. She’s fighting with her upstairs neighbor now who she says is noisy as hell. She dreads being there on weekends. Yes, I remember dreading the weekends all too well! Meanwhile, she can’t get out of there till May cuz she has a lease. At least she’s in an apartment. It’s a lot easier to move from an apartment than a house.

She says some other girl’s been calling her, threatening to kill her and fuck up her car. I don’t know what this is all about. As usual, she made no sense. First she’d say it was cuz of one reason, then another. You know how she is - jumping from subject to subject, interrupting, contradicting, making no sense, not remembering anything. She didn’t even remember Teddy Bear. She asked if she were Puerto Rican and if I’d written to her, yet if she’d read my mail she’d have known she was a white redhead and that we agreed I’d wait a year before contacting her. I told her I may have sunk my chances, though, by stupidly trusting Mary.

She claims she’s going to send me a doll, though I doubt it. She asked if I could make her new tapes of rap songs and basically surprise her with whatever, so I did. I made her two tapes, using my best judgment as to the songs I chose.

I asked her, and she said she was in jail for 3 months, in a dorm, in Niantic, CT. She said most of the COs, as they’d call them, were jerks. Her charges were assault and battery on this girl and a pig. Naturally, my first instinct was to be totally sick over the fact that someone can beat up two people, one being an oh-so-precious pig, and get just 3 months, while I get 6 for words on paper. But then she told me she also got 2000 hours of community service and I was like - oh my God! In a sense, that’s way worse than what I got. If you’re gonna sit in jail for 3 months, you might as well make it 6 and come home to just 100 hours. She’s damn lucky she didn’t do that out here. If she’d done the same thing here, she’d be looking at years in prison and many, many years of probation. I’ll bet she’d do 3 to 5 in prison, then 5 to 10 years probation with more like 5000 hours of community service. I forgot to ask just how much probation time she had and what her community service work entailed. I know she did it out of the house.

Here’s a classic example of how much stricter Arizona is than Massachusetts. I sent threatening letters and a threatening tape to people in Massachusetts (Larry and Ronnie), yet I never heard a damn thing about it. They probably ignored the stuff and threw it out once they realized what it was since that’s the way people there tend to react, and if any of them did go to the police about it, they were no doubt told not to worry about it. It’s just a voice on a tape and words on paper. I hadn’t done anything.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 2001
Went to Circle K this morning for some goodies before I do that diet again. They finally changed their coffee flavors. They had vanilla and mocha for a long time, and now they have Butterfinger and cinnamon. We got delayed by an Am-track train forfuckingever on the way there. It’s hard to believe Maricopa has AM-track. They just built a train station, so I’d say Maricopa’s going to build up as I predicted. We didn’t see any new houses along the way, but it looks like they’re getting ready to pave more of the road about 6 miles from here.

When we got back, we picked some radishes. Tom was brave enough to try one, but as I figured, he hated it. They’re pretty hot, but I like them. After too many, though, my mouth is on fire and I have to eat something to take the bitter taste away.

Nothing going on in back yet, but I have seen a couple of vehicles there today and yesterday.

I decided to fly the rest of my flags one by one till they all wear out. I took down a tattered Tweety bird flag and replaced it with cute Dalmatians.

We also made wire shelves for the rats with the wire that we used to make the pig’s cage. We bought the stuff for the mice, yet it ended up with pigs and rats!

Last night I set up 4 ladies with males for breeding, but I don’t know if I had them together long enough or if they’ll allow themselves to breed. They didn’t seem the least bit interested. They fought the guys like hell.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 2001
I got some potentially good news in the mail yesterday that fits with my vibes. My letter to Ida was returned, saying she’s no longer in custody and was released on the 9th. That’s exactly when my bad vibe suddenly went away, which means I was right in assuming that together, she and Mary were bad news had my bear worked during this time. It may be too late and they might’ve trashed me to the bear already, but that’s not what my vibes say. Now that Ida’s gone, if it hasn’t already been done, Mary may feel awkward about trashing me alone. It’s not as fun when you have another person with the same venom towards you trash you along with them. So, unless it was done during the time I had the horrible vibes, which was for about 3 days, I still might see my bear next May. In fact, it appears I may get my cake and eat it too. Meaning, I’ll never again hear from Mary, which would be just fine with me, yet I still get to keep my bear.

Also, I had wondered why it took Ida so long to respond to me when I sent the note two weeks earlier and she’d been with Mary that long. Well, obviously it was so she could be sure to get the last word. At least she was all talk when she said I’d hear from her further. I figured as much, anyway. I mean, what’s she gonna do? Threaten to break my hand for writing the note?

Meanwhile, I’ll keep Mary’s letters and story file till I’m off probation, then I’ll destroy those.

How the fuck did Ida get out of there so fast? She was in on a violation, and violations are supposed to be 3 months. Maybe she bonded out, though I don’t know if violations are bondable.

I forgot to mention that two mornings ago, I saw smoke about 30 feet in front of the rental. I wonder what the hell they could’ve been burning.

I downloaded some e-books, though they’re books I’ve already read, and I’ll have to sit at the computer and read them.

Later…

It’s turned out to be a nice day and I’ve opened the windows. I don’t like smelling horses in here, though I’d rather smell horseshit at home, than farts in jail.

I tried to call Paula yesterday morning and today but she wasn’t in. With my luck, she’ll call over the weekend. I’d really prefer to talk to her without Tom being here. That way I can talk a bit more freely without getting him paranoid about something I might say.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 2001
Yesterday, Tom was telling me that he was about 20 pages into my Estrella book and that he suggests I don’t share it with anyone other than him. He said I can’t stop you from doing what you want to do, but things like how you wrote about how Rule told you how to get into Ad-Seg may make people paranoid, etc. He said he doesn’t think I should give it to Teddy Bear or Paula. It’s too late with Paula, but obviously it was okay since nothing bad happened to me for it, but Teddy Bear? I always believed, judging by her personality, that she’d be okay with it and that she wouldn’t tell anyone about it. At least not the wrong people, anyway.

Tom feels journals should never be shared, but to me, anything written away from home is not a journal. It’s more of a story about your adventures away from home, be it being away in jail or in Vegas gambling.

After taking a day to digest this conversation, I said to myself, hey, you need to try to learn to be a bit more independent when it comes to decision-making, as hard and as foreign as that may be. You let him talk you out of writing Palma and a zillion other things, and it’s okay to do what the one you love feels you ought to do, but you need to follow your own head/heart at times, too. I know he means well, I know he isn’t forcing me to do anything, and I know he’s right a lot of the time when he gives me suggestions or advice, but sometimes, I need to do my own thing, even if its results aren’t always very good. Life’s about taking chances. There’s been a lot of times when I was glad I took his advice and there have also been times when I wished I’d taken my own. It’s like sometimes he’s even more paranoid and cautious than even I am. “Do what you want, but I think tearing out and destroying journal pages would be too paranoid,” he told me. And maybe it was, but it’s just as easy for me to say that I can see how could be a bad thing to send copies to Mary, even if there were no N-words or threats in it, but the bear? I don’t know about that one, though her copy would be severely edited.

I still don’t think I’m ever going to see the bear again, but the point is, I’m not going to say yes or no either way as to whether or not I share the story with her. Maybe I will and maybe I won’t. It’s going to be solely up to me with the only influence being herself. Meaning, something she might say/do to convince me either way.

My first thought was to keep it a secret if I did share it with her, but first of all, I never could keep a secret to save my life. My secrets were always discovered one way or another, and secondly, I shouldn’t have to. At nearly 36 years of age my actions, especially to Tom, shouldn’t have to be hidden, explained or made excuses for. I’m always going to do what he suggests I do 8 out of 10 times cuz I love him, know he means well, and trust his judgment, but sometimes I’m going to make my own decisions and do things my own way. Once again, though, I’m not saying either way how I’ll deal with Teddy Bear when it comes to this book. If I ever see her again, we’ll see.

Who knows? I may decide, come May, not to write to her. I wish I could make myself not want to write to her. After being burned time and time again by 9 out of 10 people I’ve had contact with, both on account of my stupidity and my not doing a damn thing to deserve it, you never know what shit she may drag into my life, despite how unlikely that seems. She’s just someone that gives off positive vibes from the get-go. There doesn’t seem to be one ounce of meanness or paranoia in her. I doubt she’d go running to a pig friend, if she’s got any, to type up a threatening letter to her to add to the story, if she got pissed at me. I think that unlike most people, if she was pissed or unhappy with me for any reason, she’d simply ignore me. And that would be the proper thing to do in most cases. She’s never seen the type to get upset easily, though it probably wouldn’t take as much as it’d take Tom. She’s a DO, after all, and you need a little bit of bite to you for that kind of job or else some of those inmates will chew you up and spit you out. Still, unless Tom’s eager to disagree with me for whatever reason, I think he’ll see what I mean if she ever does visit. I wouldn’t count on a visit, though. Especially if I don’t hear anything nice from Mary this week.

If I ever did share the story with the bear, I think that the absolute worst thing that could come of it would be that she wasn’t happy that I wrote about her, even if it was all good, and that she may no longer want to be friends with me.

Early this morning two vehicles showed up in back, but I can’t say how long they were there, what they did, or if anyone else showed up. I was asleep by noon.

Yesterday I scanned my journal covers. Why keep them when I can scan them? I thought. I’m only keeping a few. One specialty journal and two prism-like ones. That’s because those two don’t scan well. They only sparkle with movement.

I wonder - will Scot invite himself over this week?

Later…

I worked on and off throughout the night on my bio. Once I get back on days, I’ll stay that way for a while. I’m tired of rolling, and besides, there’ll be more going on in December (hopefully all good).

I’m up to 1982 in the bio. What am I gonna do when it’s done? I’ll be so damn bored! I already am bored a lot as it is, so what will I do when it’s done? Read and clean?

Better not complain too much. I wouldn’t want God to think I need another adventurous trip to jail to liven things up.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 2001
Now the flat trailer and horse trailer are gone, too. Maybe the people connected to all these trailers were just workers living back there while they were doing the house since it’s so far out. Maybe they travel from site to site in the trailer.

I did something rather clever yesterday. I tore Velcro off of an old doll’s dress and replaced the belt tie on my robe by sewing on this Velcro. It stays closed better this way.

Time to go put the nature sounds station on and work on my bio. Not all of the rainy sounds sound good. Some of it sounds like static or like someone rustling papers.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 2001
Five and a half months from now I could’ve seen my Teddy Bear, but no. I had to be stupid and let someone go and ruin it for me. It’s gonna be so hard next May, knowing I could be seeing her if it weren’t for my stupidity and someone else’s cruelty.

You’d think Mary would’ve been a bit more empathetic. I mean, she of all people should know what it’s like to lose someone she cares about. Then again, maybe she didn’t care. Maybe she wasn’t at work. Maybe she was right there all along with him. And maybe I had her all wrong in that department. She fooled me in others, after all.

Anyway, it was yesterday that I noticed that the trailer was gone. There were a lot of workers over there, though. Remember, this is an old piece of shit so the setup will take more work. Now I’m not sure if those trailer freeloaders are going to live there or not. Maybe not and maybe that’s why my bad vibes subsided so quickly. But still, that place has “freeloaders” written all over it and there’s nothing to say that whoever does end up in the thing won’t be a problem. That’s okay, though. I can be a problem right back.

I still think that yes, having the same old thing every day does get boring, but I should’ve stuck out that last diet regimen I was on a little longer. It was working without leaving me starving my ass off. Sooner or later I’d have had to have started shitting. I couldn’t have stayed stuck forever. As soon as my body realized it wasn’t going to get 1500 or more calories a day, it would’ve adapted, and it’s not like I’d have had the same old stuff forever. Maybe I just didn’t give it enough time. The plan I had wasn’t all that terrible as far as variety goes. Having a cucumber and a can of peaches would be my fruits and veggies. I’d get my protein with a packet of corned beef, then I’d have the potatoes and pudding. All this would be slightly over 1000 calories a day, excluding gum. If I kept this up for a few months, with the exception of one day a week to indulge, I’d have to lose weight. My body couldn’t possibly hold its weight on that, even if I were stuck every other day.

I had major variety yesterday, including beans, yet I’m stuck again. Besides, due to my lack of willpower, having too much variety around tempts me to have a little of this, then a little of that. Next thing I know I’ve had too much.

I’m just not sure if I want to do this next week or wait till after the New Year, what with all the treats the holidays bring. Also, I strongly vibed, even before Mary stole my bear from me, that I wouldn’t be seeing the bear before Christmas.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 2001
I finally heard from Paula. I figured giving her the silent treatment would prompt a letter from her, but I have mixed emotions about writing back and calling her (she has a phone now). It’s easy to say it’s best not to bother spending money on stamps/calls to her. Especially with the way I’ve been burned time after time, but you know what? I’ve known Paula for 17 years and she hasn’t burned me yet. Plus, I want to question her more about her charges and experiences in jail just out of curiosity.

She asked for my number and enclosed a hideous picture of herself. She really got big! She’s 165 pounds. She was usually around 120 when we were neighbors. Her hair is between her shoulders and tits. Tom’s going to take a picture of me to send to her, as she requested.

She’s still dating this married black cop and this married Hispanic pig. She too, likes the uniform. Only difference is I lost my babe in uniform while she gets to keep hers. Hell, I didn’t even get to make it with my uniform in the first place!

She’s still in that apartment in Chicopee and says she yelled at her noisy neighbor. Yeah, that’s what you do in the east. Out here, you’re expected to sit back and take their shit, and God help you if you do complain!

She has a white Chevy Cavalier now and will move in April.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 15, 2001
It’s only 73° in the house right now and 54° outside. It’ll definitely be in the 60s in here and the 40s out there come 6:00.

Tom visited with Mom, Mary and Dave. Mom gave me $20 to get a treat. I guess that was for the lemon drops I gave her. I think I’ll spend it at Walgreens over his next vacation. I could use more perfume and more sparkly lip gloss. I got raspberry last time, so I think I’ll go for watermelon or vanilla next time. I wouldn’t mind a new puzzle to two, either.

I really look forward to December and January, God forbid some freeloaders, or anyone else, fuck it up for me. I’m looking forward to going out and doing fun things, getting Christmas gifts (hey I’m just as spoiled when it comes to that as I was as a kid getting Hanukah gifts!) and fencing the property. Also, I look forward to getting an MP3-CD changer. I’ll re-rip my CDs as MP3s instead of waves, then I’ll make CDs of them in MP3 format. That’ll fill about 3 CDs (the one I looked at holds 5). Then, as I gather new songs, I’ll put them on rewritables in regular audio CD format till I fill those 2 CDs. Once full, I’ll burn them as MP3s. That way I won’t have to wait till I get around 250 songs, which is what a CD with songs in MP3 format will hold.

I’m also hoping to get a palm tree or something to fill the empty dining corner. Perhaps in January, there’ll be some good sales. I don’t have much hope of getting a doll or a new rat cage, though.

Later…

I was just browsing online when I came across this book. It’s about a former inmate that like me, kept a day-to-day account of her 6 months in jail. Only she was in the tents. She describes the horseshoe to a T (the intake area where I waited 16 hours to go to Estrella). Like me, she didn’t “fit in.” She wasn’t your typical criminal, in other words. She talks about how Arpaio’s crazy, out to boost his career, and how he wanted to cut a meal to “save the taxpayers money.” Meanwhile, this is supposed to be donated food. I’ll bet her story doesn’t end like mine did where a DO she likes definitely likes her back! Ha, ha. Anyway, it’s interesting, though it’s just the prologue and first chapter I could read. For $17 you can get all 21 chapters.

Later…

Tom installed a new online radio for me. It not only displays the artist and song titles, but it has a wider variety of music. I’ve never even heard of some of this stuff! It also makes its own toolbar, so I can always see the artist/title, even while I’m typing this. With the other one, I’d have to switch windows. It also allows me to see what’s playing on other radio stations before I even tune into them. There’s even a nature sound station. On one track I could hear the ocean, birds chirping, and wind chimes. Then there were storms, whales, rain, etc.

I forgot to mention that when Tom was at Ma’s, they ended up discussing Pepper. Tom told them I want him, and that we plan to put up fences and a doggie door. That way, if we don’t get their dog (which would only be because there’d be some other dog they wanted more), we can get some other dog.

Little Buddy gets more and more playful. He loves to come out and run around. Loves to chase me up and down the house and climb on me to see if he can get treats. He’s not just playful, he’s so loving and a real people rat!

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 2001
Yes, it got a little chilly in here last night. Down to 72°, and it’s gonna get chillier tonight. It only made it up to 77° in here today. I’m trying to wear warmer clothing before I turn on the heat (though I will turn it on if it drops below 70°) for the sake of saving money.

Tom should be home anytime now. It’ll be interesting to see if he brings any jail mail for me, though I doubt it. It’s been nearly a month now since I heard from Mary. I still say my first guess is that I won’t hear from her, the second’s that she’ll send me a “fuck you” letter, and lastly, she’ll tell me everything’s fine. Maybe she even got into it with Ida. It seems less likely, though, that she’d get into it with her as easily as I did since she’s more tolerant. Mary can sleep through anything, so she wouldn’t mind if Ida was up bopping around the room at 7 AM. I doubt they’d fight over how much of the vent was blocked, either.

Looking at it from Teddy Bear’s perspective, she’s certainly going to be pissed to find out I told someone in that jail that we liked each other. I myself personally, would not be, but most people would be. Knowing how overly cautious and professional the bear is, she’d definitely drop me like a hot potato if anything was said to her.

Worries, stresses, worries, stresses! And all for the wrong people! I mean, here I am, worrying my ass off about what these fucking low-life, scum-sucking inmates may say. Fuck that shit! I need to move on, with or without my bear.

As far as not hearing from Mary goes… ordinarily, I’d say no news was good news. Yes, I’d be happy not to hear from her, but that’d only convince me all the more that she bashed me to the bear. Should I really bother to write the bear next May? Should I bother sending a letter I know won’t get answered?

Later…

True to vibed, there was no word from jail. Don’t let my logic/vibes jump the gun, Tom urged me, telling me that if I don’t hear from the bear again, it could be for a million reasons and not necessarily cuz of Mary or Ida. She could get a better job opportunity, the county could lay her off, she could have to leave the state on a family emergency, they could have a policy in February stating that all personal mail will be returned, etc.

This is true, but what are the chances of any of those things happening as opposed to Mary and Ida ruining things for me?

Tom seems to be more empathetic about this than I thought he’d be. He even promised to help me see if I could find her online when it gets closer.

Although I hope not, maybe Tom’s right when he suggested that just like with Rosa, our time was meant to be brief, and not an introduction to a whole ‘nother chapter in life. Maybe she was just destined to help me get through that place, and she sure did! Just like my heart would pound with happy, excited anticipation when I’d be called for visits, it would when I’d see she was on, too. She totally made my night when she was on. When she was on, I knew everything would be ok. She made the time fly. An hour’s visit with Tom felt like 10 minutes, and 8 hours with Teddy Bear felt like just a couple of hours. Palma never made my nights like she did.

I don’t know what to think at this point. My vibes say everything’s cool as far as the bear goes, but logic says it isn’t. I know firsthand how spiteful people can be and over the dumbest things, too.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 2001
I’m up 2 pounds, and if I don’t shit soon, this last week of dieting’s gonna be a total waste.

Since Dave, like most guys, is dumb and useless around the house, Tom’s hoping he can comp a deal with Mary. Mary mentioned wanting to put up a couple of ceiling fans in her house. Well, if Tom mentions that we do too, perhaps she’ll buy us the fans for his installing them for her.

Later…

Well, that’s good that I finally took a dump, but now I have to relose those 2 pounds, so that set me back a day or two. Then again, what’s the hurry? Teddy Bear will never see me again, Tom loves/accepts me no matter what, so I may as well go at a leisurely pace and not push it. Or maybe I’ll dump dieting altogether. We’ll see.

There have been no changes in back. APS still hasn’t powered up the place. I’m like - just get the power going, get in the damn house, have your “housewarming” party that we all have to hear about and get it over with.

It’s going to be cold in here tonight. It never even hit 80° inside the house or 75° outside.

Anyway, if I’m right about losing the bear, come next week with still no word from Mary, I’ll know it. I doubt she’d have the nerve to write to me to tell me all about it. I still don’t think I’ll ever hear from her again, and that if I do, it won’t be to say anything nice. My bad vibes are still down, but there’s still no reason to assume I’ll see the bear next May. Besides, it isn’t just Mary. I have another enemy in that place and one of them, if not both, had to have said something to her. I don’t think they both could’ve kept their big mouths shut.

I’m getting over my never seeing the bear again little by little, day by day.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 2001
The Brown Man died last night. Tom’s out cremating him now so he doesn’t attract maggots. We don’t bother to bury mice anyway. I just dread finding out just how many of these females are pregnant. And right after I finally segregated them without fucking up. It would’ve been too early to start breeding had I seen Teddy Bear next spring, but now I have no reason to breed at all. I have enough mice for myself.

It’s vet’s day today, so if Mary hasn’t gotten my last letter yet, she will tomorrow.

Bad vibes pertaining to behind us and at the jail have subsided greatly, but I don’t know why. Maybe Mary was planning to trash me, but then chilled out and decided this shit wasn’t worth fighting over. Or maybe I just don’t give a shit, since I resolved to not let anyone from jail get to me, and since I already resigned myself to the fact that I lost the bear. As are all things, it’s in God’s hands. If he wants the bear to visit next May, she will. If he doesn’t, she won’t.

Another thing is that if I end up getting yanked out of this house again and dragged into the city, then that’s where I’ll stay. If I’m meant to live in the city, I will. I’m not gonna have it be where sometimes I live here, sometimes I don’t.

I also won’t do a damn thing as far as working out and dieting goes. I’m starting to see a real difference again as far as muscle goes, and if I’m gonna be forced to lose all I’ve worked for again, I’m not starting over for the third time. I’m either all or nothing in this department, too. People should either always work out or just not bother. Working out on and off makes no sense. It’s just a waste.

I’m still 117 pounds, though, cuz I’m still stuck. If I’m having this much trouble at 117, there’s no way I’ll get even close to 105. In fact, I don’t think I’m going to lose anymore. I’ll still stick to the 1000-calorie diet, though, now that I found an easy way to do it. This way I’ll be sure never to go over 120 again. It’s just awfully sad that I can’t lose more than 7 pounds on such a low-calorie diet. If I were in my 20s, I’d already be 105, and if I continued on at the rate I’m going, I’d be emaciated in no time.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 2001
I finally forced myself to work out after having a good cry after Tom went to bed. I’m up to about 880 calories so far. I doubt I’ll crack 1000 today. I’d only be at 580 if it weren’t for the weekly sampler pack I get of 4 wonderful, sugary, flavored coffees. Carmel, vanilla, mocha, and something called Straight-up Latte.

Later…

I’m still 117 pounds. I’ve been on the diet for a week and losing 7 pounds in one week is still good. Now’s when it’s going to get tough and slow down. I’m already stuck.

Last night I began to feel better. Don’t get me wrong, I’d still undo my stupidity of trusting Mary and take my bear back in a heartbeat, but I can’t. What’s done is done and I put my foot down and decided not to be miserable over this shit day after day. I’ll be damned if I’ll let any inmates put the same stress on me in my own home that they put on me when I was stuck there with them. Mary G and Ida F are not going to bring me down. They stole any chances I might have had of having some kind of friendship, relationship or both with Teddy Bear, but they’re not going to take any more from me. Enough is enough. There, I couldn’t just ignore those who bothered me, but here I can. There are no vents to connect us, there’s no nothing to connect us.

I’ll still respond to any non-nasty letters I may be surprised with from Mary, but Ida will not hear from me no matter what she says.

My first guess is that I’ll never hear from Mary again. My second guess is that she’ll send me a letter bitching all about how I “used” her as if asking her to do something I told her she didn’t have to do is using her in the first place. If she hasn’t already, tomorrow’s the likely day she’ll trash me to the bear. Especially if she’s on her usual Monday M Dorm routine lately, and if Mary hasn’t gotten my “let’s be friends” letter, which still may not necessarily help things. People hold grudges. And for the dumbest things, too. And this is right after she contradicted me too, saying she wouldn’t give the address out to anyone, and how we got screwed by the government and the rest are criminals.

Anyway, the bear was never really mine to lose and I’m not gonna dwell on it. Yes, I’ll still write to her. Yes, I’ll miss her. Yes, I’ll always wonder about her, but she will live forever in my heart and memory. I will always cherish the memories of the brief time we had together. I will always appreciate and be grateful to her for going out of her way for me. She went beyond the call of duty and she really was my jailhouse guardian angel. I loved her with all my heart, though I’ll never really get the chance to know her, and I always will.

My bad vibes have backed off a little more, but I still have every reason to believe I’ll never see the bear again until and unless proven differently.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 2001
This is the most I’ve cried since I’ve been home. Each day it gets easier, but it’s going to take a while. I can’t believe I even bothered to respond to Mary’s first letter in the first place and that these people are still causing problems/stress for me on the outs! I don’t have to live with these people anymore (thank God) yet they’re still pissing me off and making me miserable. Fuck that shit! And fuck you Mary G and Ida F for fucking me out of my bear!!!

I keep trying to tell myself over and over again like a broken record how I’d be better off not seeing the bear anyway, that she’d have only ended up burning me, that there’s a lot of good to not seeing her again, but you know what? I’m not very good at lying to myself. Yes, there is some good to this, I’m sure, and perhaps it really is all for the better, but it still hurts. And there’s no way to fix this mess, either. I lost the bear cuz I asked Mary to do something she didn’t want to do, and now all I can do is move on and hope they don’t make any more trouble for me. Costing me my bear is one thing, but costing me my freedom is another. I still don’t see that happening, but you just never know. Anything could cause anyone to end up in jail in this state. Last night I was plagued with dreams of being a jail, being told by some nameless, faceless DO that the press was eating me alive, but I don’t know that this is necessarily a warning of trouble to come. I’ve had these kinds of dreams on and off ever since I’ve been home.

I realize more and more that Mary’s not getting out of there anytime soon. I think she’ll be there 6 more months to a year. Maybe even longer.

I haven’t had the energy to work out or much of an appetite. In fact, I stayed at 117 pounds because I only ate a few bites of macaroni on top of that burger and blizzard yesterday. Having backstabbers snatch from you someone you love and are attracted to does that to you.

Words can’t express just how glad I am we don’t have a kid. Not just because life would suck all the more with having to deal with the expense and demands of a kid on top of everything else, but I would’ve hated to have to level with the kid about life and all that. I’d have had to tell her or him, don’t believe anything anyone says. Don’t put your trust in anyone. God help you if you make an enemy, for they won’t just walk away. They’ll bring you down on their way out of your life.

How depressing as well as true, huh?

I’ll tell you one thing for sure and that’s that although I doubt Teddy Bear will call in a mad frenzy about this shit if she does, I’m going to let her know up front that if she harms me anyway simply because she’s pissed off at me, I will take legal action against her.

Another thing I’ve lost is the time she might’ve filled. Visiting with Teddy Bear would’ve given me more to do and filled more of my time since there’s only so much I can do sitting at home. I’d still rather be bored here than sitting in jail, but even so, I’ve lost so much. As long as she didn’t meet anyone in the meantime, I’ve lost so damn much. And all for asking a simple little favor of someone I’d done so much for. I can’t believe the selfishness in this world! You do for me but don’t dare ask me to do for you. That’s how so many people are.

I said I had had a bad vibe for the 3rd - well - those freeloaders arriving and my losing the bear is awfully close to the 3rd.

I ask myself - would Ida tell her PO to tell mine that I wrote her when she wrote me, too? Yes, she would. She would, even though it’d mean sinking her own ass as well. People will bring their own selves down to bring others down. The freeloader gave up a free house for me. They thought I was that worth it. So why not do more jail time for me, too? Mary, on the other hand, has nothing to lose, since she’s going to be in jail for years. Even if a year or two more was added to her sentence, it wouldn’t matter. She’s got enough years to do as it is that one or two more won’t really make a difference.

Worries, worries, worries! God, please don’t let Mary and Ida trash me to the bear!

Oh, like he really cares? He had me send the letter to Bill when I did for a reason - to get me into jail. So he’s going to have Mary trash me for a reason, too. I only hope it isn’t to go back to jail! Just cuz I’m bored a lot lately doesn’t mean I want to fill my time with adventures that aren’t very fun. I’ve had enough negative excitement in my life. I really thought Tammy would laugh at Bill for getting a letter like he did from me. I didn’t realize she was still so in love with him, but she is one of those who falls in love with abusive men. So, even though he was abusive to her and the kids, she’s still gonna jump to defend him.

I thought Teddy Bear and I met for a reason - to be with each other even if it was only on occasion. But now I see that it was only God teasing me into thinking I could have her. Just like he’s teased me before with a million other things. How could I have been dumb enough to believe that after 35 years I’d have a woman like her in my life, part-time or not? If it wasn’t meant to be in the past, why would it be meant to be now? And yes, I believe God used my stupidity and Mary’s vindictiveness to take the bear away from me. Things happen for a reason.

Oh, Teddy Bear, I’m so so sorry for trusting that bitch!

If this shit hadn’t happened, I’d be so thrilled if she called me now, but now, if she called me, I’d be like - oh, no! All she’d do is tell me how pissed off she was and not to write to her. Then I’d tell her I was sorry for my poor judgment call and that in the meantime, if you don’t like me, don’t have anything to do with me. Don’t shit on me either. Just go away.

Then she’d be nothing more than just a memory to me.

Later…

I worked some more on my bio since I’ll never have any more typing to do for Mary, nor any proofreading to do for Teddy Bear. Yes, I’m down to having just one project, other than the usual household chores I do, along with my hobbies, and just two appointments a month. Wow, huh? Lucky me. Now if I could just be surprised with a letter from Mary saying all’s cool, or a response to my letter from the bear in May, life would be even better. But neither of these things are going to happen, so I best just deal with it, get on with life and get over it. It’s just that I can’t control the pace at which I do this. I wish I could speed things up, but I can’t. Slowly my wounds will heal, but slowly. Meanwhile, 10 years from now I wouldn’t be surprised if I found myself wondering whatever became of my tall, redheaded jailhouse guardian angel that I came to love and never got to know. I’ll never even know if that R really does stand for Rebecca or Rachel.

Lo siento y ich liebe dich, my sweet Teddy Bear.

At least I can ask Tom for favors like spraying the outsides of the doors to keep the spiders out, without him turning on me.

I haven’t even had 700 calories today and I’m not the least bit hungry. I wish it could be like this every day, minus the anxiety and depression.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 9, 2001
I’m doing wonderful. My stomach’s in a knot, my lungs are tight, my heart’s pounding with anxiety, and I’m madder than hell (at least I’m down to 117 pounds). Damn you, Ida, for starting this shit! That woman has caused me more stress and misery than even Melinda and Nancy. And damn Mary for turning against me all for asking her to do me a simple little favor she could’ve said no to. If she gave my address and God knows what else to Ida, she’ll certainly trash me to Teddy Bear. That’s the problem with people who decide they don’t like you anymore. They don’t just drop you. They fuck you over.

Anyway, I decided that if a little ass-kissing may save me my bear, I’d do it. So, after thinking about it for a while, I decided that even though my gut instincts about Mary are probably right, perhaps I was jumping the gun and assuming too much. So, I wrote her saying I was very sorry if I upset her, her friendship means a lot to me, I’d still like to help her with her book…

That way, if she was planning on telling/showing letters to the bear, it may change her mind, unless she’s already done it. If she’s done it already, it’s too late, I lost the bear, there’s nothing I can do about it, etc. If I can butter her back up, though, it may prevent her from doing anything stupid that’d cost me my bear. I’d like to believe she wouldn’t trash me after all I’ve done for her like typing up her story, making her birthday cards, sending inspirational letters and all that, but people are that mean. They truly are. And Ida’s no doubt egging her on, influencing her to shit on me if she hasn’t already done it herself.

Unless I’m surprised with a letter from Mary letting me know she’s still cool with me, I’m going to put a hold on proofreading any more of the bear’s copy. I’ll still send a letter to her on the first of May, but I’ll know not to expect a response. If Mary shows her the stuff I’ve written about her, even though it’s all good, there’s no way she’s going to trust me enough to want to associate with me in any way. Damn me for trusting Mary! If I get thrown back in that place on account of her or Ida, they’re dead. If I can get my hands on them, they’re so so very dead.

Also, if I should be miraculously blessed with a letter saying things are okay from Mary, I’ll play nice at least till I write the bear. Hopefully, she’ll get the fuck out of there soon enough! If Mary hasn’t already made up her mind to dump me, I still intend to dump her. I’ll just slowly fade away with time. For now, though, if I hear back from her in a good way, I’ll write less and I’ll write shorter letters, keeping all other people out of it save for Tom.

If Teddy Bear surprises me by calling me this month, it’ll be to chew me out. “How could you send anyone that shit?!” she’d say.

How could I have been so stupid?

Anyway, I gotta go see the cheeks (fortunately I don’t have jail vibes), then I’ll get my weekly treat at Dairy Queen. However, with the way my stomach’s so queasy with fear, anxiety, paranoia and depression, I may not be able to enjoy it all that much.

I bawled my eyes out last night knowing I’ll never see that face again. Never hear her voice. Never get to hug/kiss her or anything more. Now I’m not only left to wonder what would’ve happened my last night there with her if Misha hadn’t been around but I’m also left to forever wonder exactly what would’ve happened between us. I’ll still try to breed various mice, though I know her being a closed chapter in my life is for a reason. Things happen for a reason, so I’ll just have to accept that God must’ve had good reasons for using Mary and Ida to intercept our impending visit. I don’t know, maybe it would’ve gotten harder and harder to say goodbye each time I saw her. I’ll be sad for a while, but I’ll get over her. It just may take 2-3 years, but the lust part of it would’ve died anyway with time, regardless of how well we got along.

Later…

Tom just went to bed even though it’s early. That’s cuz he’s been going to work earlier these last few days.

We were in and out of Scot’s, then off to Dairy Queen, where I managed to scarf down a double cheeseburger and a blizzard. I still have some of the blizzard left, and as always, I gave some to Little Buddy.

Oh, Scot said he mailed the county a progress report on me like he’s supposed to do every 6 months. God, I feel like a kid all over again with these little report cards! My only worry with that is that they see I finished my community service, they see I finished with Helen, but what do they do when they see I’m not “working?” Well, once again, my life’s been altered enough over this shit and I’m not about to rearrange any more of it. I’d love a home job, so if they think they can find a convicted felon a home job, and if they want me to work, let them find me that job.

They’ve been booming again, although they must be further away this time because the booms are softer. Not enough to wake me up.

I’ve been hearing the weirdest sounds lately. Sounds that sound just like car doors, though I never see any cars moving, and I know I couldn’t possibly hear car doors from in back or next door. So, I don’t know what it is I’m hearing, but I swear they are car doors. I wonder if this should worry me, though everything has me paranoid, if not worried, these days.

Dan’s people have a better view of all 3 rentals cuz they can see the backs of the houses which sit side by side. Driving by Dan’s and looking past at the rentals, I was shocked to see just how far apart they are. They must be a couple of hundred feet apart, but seeing them from here all lined up makes you think they’re closer.

I’m a lot depressed and a little worried. I mean, I don’t see how what I wrote could get me thrown back in jail as long as Scot doesn’t get wind of it. I never used “racial slurs” or threats of any kind, but I did mention names and I wrote about those people, the stupid fool I am! And once my bear learns about it, she’ll be pissed and completely turned off. Just the fact that I wrote about her is all it’ll take. Why did I open up to this bitch and put my trust in her, someone who has years and years to do in jail with nothing to lose? Like Tom said, what am I gonna do? Threaten her? And with what? Telling her auntie Carolyn what a two-faced, phony, lying, back-stabbing asshole she is? Maybe she is guiltier than I thought as far as her kids go, too. Just the fact that she gave Ida the note and gave her the address tells me something right there; that she’s turned on me. And instead of telling herself, well, I really shouldn’t put Johnson on the spot and embarrass her in any way, she will. She’ll spite my bear to spite me if it’ll cost me my seeing her next May.

I ask myself, though, would someone really get pissed at my asking them to slip a note.

Yes. Yes, they would. Look how the freeloaders took my asking them to turn their fucking stereo down, and remember, that’s what started this whole chain of events in the first place; me asking them to lower their music. I don’t know why, but simple little reasonable requests really do set people off. Especially out west. And out west, when someone gets pissed off at you, they drag others into it just to fuck you over all the more. They don’t have the balls to face you directly and keep things between them and you. And how could she feel “used?” I mean, I don’t know for sure that she does. That could be just Ida talking, but if she feels used by my asking something like that, I should feel incredibly used for being asked to type up page after page of her life story! If she felt used, upset or pissed in any way about my request, couldn’t she have told me so herself? I told her she never had to do anything she didn’t want to do, so what’s the big deal? Is there more to this than I know of? I know a lot of it is Ida’s influence. Mary’s a very suggestive, gullible person. That’s why I hope my letter insisting I didn’t mean to offend anyone and that I want our friendship to work out will convince her to at least not trash me to Teddy Bear and drag her into this shit. She doesn’t need or deserve that.

If I don’t hear from her, or if I get a letter that’s not the least bit nice, I won’t bother writing to her ever again, but I’ll still take a shot at my bear next May, even though I know it’ll be useless. If I do get a letter from her saying everything’s cool, I’ll write to her to keep her from spiting me, but will write much fewer and much shorter letters. If I dump her without being dumped first before May, she could turn on me for that alone.

I keep trying to tell myself that everything will be okay and that I don’t know for sure that Mary’s turned on me and that I lost the bear, but I had to have. Her giving Ida what she gave her tells me that. Plus, I haven’t heard from her since they’ve been cellies. So, if Mary can give Ida the note and the address and tell Palma I had a crush on her, why not show the bear the stuff I was stupid enough to send?

How could I have been so trusting as to open up to this person?! Ugh!!! I swear I’ll never trust another human being again other than Tom. I’m not even going to write Palma, Pérez and Espi, regardless of whether or not I hear from the bear.

I’m just glad I don’t have to go this shit alone, although Tom doesn’t seem overly empathetic about the damn good possibility of me losing the bear. Maybe deep down he’s glad. Of course, I know that if I don’t get a response from her next May, it could be for some other reason. I highly doubt it, though. If I don’t hear from her, I’d say there’d be an 80% chance it was cuz of Mary and Ida. It really pisses me off but mostly bums me out to think I’ll never see my Teddy Bear again. Although my bad vibes have backed off a bit about the freeloaders in back, I’d rather they pummel these walls with base every day than lose my bear.

I’d also rather lose her than go back to jail, and I still do worry about that, as much as it seems unlikely. It’s just that that’s what I thought a year ago, too. I’d go to court, and be told I was to receive extra probation time only to find out 5 minutes prior to sentencing that I was to do months in jail. I was never kidding when I said that something up there had an obsession with me being stuck in all different places I didn’t want to be. It was like I was being teased and punished for living here and like the city didn’t want to let me go. Something up there also loves for me to worry my ass off over nothing, so let’s hope that’s all this is. But what am I gonna do? Worry my ass off about something every 6 months? That’s no way to live. This stress, anxiety, paranoia, and depression is no way to live.

All I can do is just try to look at the good as a way of helping me to get over her. I feel less pressured to lose weight since, after all, I did tell her I was going to lose weight. I don’t have to bother trying to breed certain mice, not that I’ve had much luck with that anyway. Perhaps it’s all for the better that we don’t see each other. I’d certainly rather have a full-time relationship with my husband than a part-time one with any woman. It makes no sense that God would connect us like he did and have us fall for each other, but it does. Meaning, I’ve never had a woman I was into this much, so why would I now? If one wasn’t meant to be up till now, why would it be meant to be now, part-time or not?

Anyway, now it’s just a matter of sitting back, trying to relax as best I can, and hope for the best. Hope that whether or not I hear from Mary, I don’t get in trouble and I hear from my bear come what May.

Later…

My bad freeloader vibes have backed off considerably and my bad bear vibes have backed off a little. But only a microscopic bit. I still have every reason to believe I lost her. And I lost her all for asking Mary to slip someone a note that she didn’t want to slip.

What burns me up is that like with the freeloaders and most everyone else that’s ever fucked me over in any way, there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. There’s just no fighting back. I also don’t believe in dragging innocent people into feuds. Why involve her aunt in this? She didn’t do anything. I could’ve been meaner than hell and dragged Larry Jr. into my dispute with his sick father, but I didn’t. I know it really would’ve hurt like hell too, for him to hear things like - you murdered your son just like you yourself said - etc.

I can’t picture Teddy Bear being spiteful in the way that most people are, but would she go further than just not having anything to do with me? Would she contact Scot herself? Would she call and bitch me out, telling me to forget about writing to her next year? Or would she be pissed, then be chilled out by May, finding my letter too sweet to resist responding to?

Fat chance on that last one!

Just how closely do the mailroom people read letters? If they spotted DO’s names would they still give the letter to Mary? Or would they themselves find a way to bring it to the bear’s attention?

Anyway, unless Scot contacts me about this shit, it’s going to be 2-3 weeks before I know for sure what’s going on. I mean, there’s still a chance that Mary just may, after all, drop me without dragging Teddy Bear into this, but I highly doubt it.

Sooner or later, I’m going to get over Teddy Bear, but it hurts. It really hurts. To know I’ll never see her, never learn her name, never learn about her, never hug her, never give her any mice, never show her this house, never see her house, and yes, never have sex. I know it would’ve come to that as long as she wasn’t with anyone she met during the year. But like I said before, I never made it with someone I was this attracted to in the past, so why would I now? That always seemed to be totally forbidden to me. Just not in the cards at all.

Sooner or later Mary’s not going to be a witness anymore and the DOC has to come and get her, regardless of what state she’ll be in, but not soon enough. Nowhere near soon enough. Even her getting out of there in 3 weeks isn’t fast enough because the bear usually works there once every week or two (although Mary said she hadn’t worked there in weeks). Teddy Bear may not work M Dorm till 3 weeks from now, but I know Mary will be there then and whether or not she’s with Ida, she’ll trash me then. It’ll be worse, though, if she is with Ida. They’d feel much more comfortable trashing me together since they’re both pissed at me than they would if they were separated. Not that separation would change things. They’ll still fuck me over. Especially Mary. It’s just that she may do it a bit more gently if she doesn’t have Ida right there cheering her on.

What’s done is done, though, and what’s fated to be is going to be. If I’m not meant to have the bear in my future, I won’t. God’s not going to let me have what he doesn’t want me to have. Period. I just wish he didn’t let the bear and I mount to what we did if he doesn’t want us to be a part of each other’s lives! It’s like - why have me crying over not being able to have a kid from 1994-1997 if he knew he didn’t want me having one?

If only I could be wrong, though! I don’t see how there could be a chance of that, but oh how nice it’d be to get a letter from Mary saying she was never mad at me, yes we’re still friends, no I haven’t shown any of your stuff to anyone.

Here’s another question I have: could she two-face me by bullshitting me by saying everything’s cool, yet trash me to the bear behind my back? I think that, in a sense, would be even worse; having her be all lovey-dovey in her letters all the while she’s laughing her ass off, fucking me over behind my back!

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 2001
In between my final run-through of the bear’s copy, I began my autobiography.

Now that I don’t have a zillion appointments and have completed most of my writing and household projects, I find myself getting bored here and there. I’d rather that, though, than be overwhelmed with being in jail or having a zillion freeloader-related appointments. Even non-freeloader-related appointments can get to be a bit much after a while.

I did a little rearranging of the walls earlier. After 2 years, even a rather pleasant arrangement can get old, so I swapped some pictures within a few of the rooms.

Still no music in back cuz they’re not in the house yet.

It’s already coming up on 1:00 and I haven’t had to kick the AC on yet. It’s gorgeous out. I’ve got windows open in all the rooms but his office, the den, and the retreat. Actually, I shut the kitchen window cuz the sun is on its way back there. Early this morning it was quite chilly in here. We’re getting closer to needing the heat.

I’m still accumulating a few scattered songs off the web that I had trouble finding for a while. The original plan was to get either a CD changer or an MP3 player with my birthday and Christmas money, but as I told Tom, it’d be nice to do everything via computer. The only bitch about that would be having to deal with turning the monitor on and off since I don’t like rocking out with lights on at night. Also, switching from song to song may be a bit of a bitch. That’d depend on how big my list was, I guess. I’d probably alphabetize them. I’d have it hooked up to the stereo because although MP3s are small, they do take up space when you have hundreds of them. When using the regular computer, like when I’m writing letters or something like that, I listen to online radio stations to listen for new songs I like. With an MP3 player, I certainly could change my playlists around a lot easier, whereas with CDs, it’s not like I could rearrange the tracks anytime I felt like it.

Tom’s going to hit some stores and check into the prices of MP3 players and CD changers, and find out what they entail. Like, do they have a way of indexing what songs are where? If they’re not going to be any more convenient than a computer, I won’t bother. I’ll spend the money on other things like maybe a palm tree for the empty corner in the dining area, a doll, new rat cage…

I’m 118 pounds today. I would’ve been really shocked if I hadn’t gone down some more. Tomorrow I’ll go up a couple of pounds because it’ll be my day to indulge in a burger and some ice cream and maybe even a single bag of popcorn. I miss reading with popcorn. I haven’t been reading at all. I think I’ll have Tom pick me up some celery stalks and some cucumbers to munch on while I read this Saturday when he does the grocery shopping. The freeloaders have altered our grocery shopping schedule a bit. The first two Fridays of the month aren’t convenient for him to go grocery shopping cuz those are the days I see The Cheeks. Therefore, he goes on Saturday.

Anyway, I’m so sick of potatoes! I’m going to drop to just one package of potatoes a day, and also have a small box of pudding, a banana and a package of corned beef. This way I’ll have a better variety, and better to munch on a 14-calorie celery stalk, as boring as it is, and a 21-calorie cucumber, than a 300-calorie bowl of popcorn while reading.

I decided to do one more schedule rollover. Then, although my senses don’t sense my Teddy Bear in the near future, I’ll be prepared and ready for her should she jump out and surprise me with a pre-Christmas call, using my making-up cards for her as an excuse. I’ll also be set for the vacation he plans to take throughout the week of my birthday. We’re going to go play miniature golf and hit Game Works, too. It’s not eating at Red Lobster and shopping at malls for dolls, books, and clothes, but it’ll be a fun break from the usual routine. I’m looking forward to it.

Later…

Got a surprise in the mail from Ida, of all people, and what she said makes me wonder if I can trust Mary and if I should bother associating with her. The letter was only a few sentences. She says: No, Mary didn’t slip me your “nasty” note. She handed it to me since we’ve been cellies for 2 weeks. I’ll be out there again shortly and you will hear further from me then. Why did you use Mary like that, you coward?

So, in my reply I wrote: I hope you know that my intentions weren’t to be “nasty.” I was just being a smart-ass by saying shame on you for being in there, etc., and as I’m sure Mary knows, I wasn’t using her. I just wanted to play a little joke on you. You know how I was with my little pranks. I’m glad to hear you and Mary are cellies. You can share this with her.

Truthfully, Ida, I don’t care what you’ve done in the past or in the present to get in there. I like you, you’re an interesting person, and you were a good celly (even if we clashed at times), I just don’t think we should get together on the outs. You’re welcome to write me all you want, though.

Anyway, it’s ok that Mary gave her the note (which was not nasty in the least) and that Ida wrote to me, but here’s what worries me about Mary. It bugs me to know that she went against my wishes and simply handed it to her. It also makes me question just how trustworthy she is to know she gave Ida our address, even if it’s just the PO Box. Yes, I gave Ida the address before I got out, but she wouldn’t have had it with her in jail, she certainly wouldn’t have remembered it, which means Mary, who swore she wouldn’t give it out, had to have given it to her.

Tom said not to jump the gun and assume too much, and perhaps I am being paranoid, but I don’t know. There’s just something about the whole thing that really bothers me and I think it’d be best to hope she never writes to me again and for me not to write to her again. I’m not supposed to be in contact with those with records, anyway.

My only worry is Mary or Ida saying anything to Teddy Bear. Or worse, showing her my mail! I haven’t said anything wrong/illegal and I’d hope that if they did try to turn Teddy Bear against me she’d know better, but that’d be up to her should they open their mouths. There’s nothing I can do from here but hope she’s not involved in this and that Ida doesn’t do something like tell her PO when she gets out to tell my PO that we’ve had contact. Then again, where’s the law that says I can’t write to others in jail? I think this do-not-associate-with-those-with-records thing pertains to those who are on the outs.

Tentatively, I’m just going to quietly go away. Then, if I do hear from either one of them, I’ll decide how to handle it then.

Later…

The more I think about this shit with Mary and Ida, the more worried I become. I hope to hell it’s just pure paranoia on my part, but Mary’s turned on me, obviously, and so’s Ida. But why? Why would asking Mary to slip Ida that note which wasn’t nasty or else it’d never have gotten through the mailroom, upset Mary in any way, not that I can say for sure that it did? How is that “using” her? I told her she didn’t have to do it if she didn’t want to. She had me type stuff up for her, but I didn’t feel used. And just what does Ida mean when she says I’ll hear from her further once she gets out? That has a rather menacing ring to it. Does she simply mean she’ll write? Is it just talk? Or does she have any evil plans in mind?

The worst-case scenario is that I’ll get thrown back in jail over this, and the second case, which is the more likely one, is that they cost me my Teddy Bear. I don’t know, I just have visions of Ida saying, “Hey, Johnson! Jodi sent me a nasty note!” then she and Mary telling her all kinds of BS. I’d hope that Teddy Bear wouldn’t let them influence her in any way, but they could be flagging my letters around the whole damn jail for all I know. I wouldn’t care if they were as long as my bear didn’t get wind of it. And after all I’ve done to help Mary - God, I am so stupid! When am I going to learn - if you don’t want to be burned by people, don’t associate with them?

Well, hopefully my letter of explanation will back Ida off, and hopefully she and Mary will keep their mouths shut and not cost me my bear or get me in trouble, but even if it turns out that I’ve got Mary all wrong and she sends me the kindest letter, I’m just going to ignore her. This bout of paranoia, be it justified or not, is enough to scare me off. I’m going to ignore them both and hope they’ll do the same.

I know I haven’t written Mary anything wrong or illegal, but somehow, despite the fact that the bear did nothing wrong either, I doubt she’d like hearing or reading anything I’ve had to say about her, as good as it all was. Yeah, I lost my bear. I just lost my bear, dammit! Damn Mary and Ida to hell! They’re vindictive enough to do it and I know they did. I know they dragged my bear into this, turned her off and scared her off forever! Damn them!!!

Later…

A million possibilities run through my mind. Perhaps I am being paranoid about Mary because come to think of it, she wrote me after I asked her to pass my message to Ida, and that’s not something you get bent out of shape over. If you don’t want to pass a message, you don’t. For all I know, Ida could’ve written that letter to me behind her back and what she said could’ve been bullshit. Ida’s already proven to be a liar.

But Mary can be funny, too. She and I agreed she’d be the one to move since she didn’t mind big cells, but what did she do? She got all pissed off over it when it happened. She could be more two-faced than I’d imagined.

I hope that just like I was paranoid about losing the house I’m just being paranoid about losing the bear, but right now I have every reason to believe I lost her and that Mary and Ida told her about my letters and maybe even showed them to her. That’s my biggest concern right now. Way more so than being thrown back there. What’s done is done, though, and if I’ve lost her, I’ve lost her. Of course it pisses me off and saddens the hell out of me, but there is good in us never getting together as well. That is that even if the chances were one in a million of her fucking me over, she’ll never get that chance. So, all bad things have their good to them, too. All I can do is ignore Mary and Ida, hope they let me ignore them, write to the bear in May, and just live with it when I get no response.

Today’s the first day so far that we didn’t run the AC all day.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 2001
Yesterday I woke up at 120 pounds and was surprised to be down barely a pound. I thought I’d be down to 118 today, but instead I was barely down to 119. I don’t know why. I didn’t exceed 1100 calories yesterday and am still shitting out what I eat. I didn’t expect things to slow down until I got down to 115. All I know is that if this low-calorie diet doesn’t work, nothing will. I may have too much muscle to get down as low as 100, but there’s no reason the fat shouldn’t dissolve if I don’t go over 1100 calories and I only splurge weekly.

Where it gets hard is having to have the same old things day after day. So, when I realized that the fat-free, sugar-free puddings were pretty equal to one of the potato packs I’ve been having, I decided that next week I’ll substitute one of the two potato packs for a pudding. So I’ll have two servings of meat, a huge serving of potatoes, and a small box of pudding. That’s under 1000 calories. I have to lose weight on that.

I’ve finished proofreading Teddy Bear’s copy and now I’m listening to it. I realize I could never be happy. Meaning, I could go through the story a million times and still find changes to make. Not necessarily mistakes, but things I feel should be changed around a bit.

I wrote Mary a letter. I know she’s got her own shit to deal with, but I wish she’d write more often. I want any Teddy Bear updates she may have for me, too!

It’s still unseasonably warm, yet cool at night. I open windows when I get up, even if it means making the house smell like horses, then shut them and turn the AC on around 1:00.

Still haven’t heard from them back there yet, but what an eyesore the whole place is. Yes, we need walls up back there. Fortunately, we can’t see the Mexicans next door cuz they have a big tree blocking their little dump. We can see Dan’s house, but not nearly as well as this one in back cuz it’s further away.

There’s this one chick in particular that bothers me. She looks awfully blackish, but she may be connected to the silver pickup and I don’t think the silver pickup lives there. A pack of Mexicans is bad enough, but to sprinkle the scene with a black or two on top of it all would really be the ultimate nightmare!

Anyway, I don’t know what’s taking APS so long to finish their job, but there have been workers working there like crazy. One’s this scruffy-looking white guy with a gold pickup. They haven’t even skirted the house yet, and if they’ve carpeted, I wouldn’t know. Boy, would it be noisy with all those people if they were just a few feet away! But stereos can travel for miles, and although my bad vibe is backed off a bit, I still say we’ll hear from them 1-3 times a week from their house stereo once they get settled in. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if they were evicted from wherever it is they came from.

I didn’t get a look at the driver, but the silver pickup just went by with what appeared to be propane tanks for the trailer. I also saw a dark-colored car leave the property, but at the angle it was at, it could’ve emerged from the middle house. The owner of the blue pickup might actually have a job somewhere cuz it’s been absent during normal business hours, save for Monday when they first showed up. Tom’s so sure they’re not Section 8, reminding me that while that sicko Debra was the one renting the house, her boyfriend was illegal and he was the one with the van, not her. So what’s to say we don’t have the same case back there? Either way, there’s gonna be trouble. We’re still looking at lots of noise and trash. And company too, since Mexicans have a zillion family members. They may not come and go every 45 minutes, and they may not have 5 or more carloads of people coming to see them on a daily basis, but there’ll still be too much commotion for comfort. A city-like atmosphere that’ll totally clash with Maricopa. I just don’t know why people like this would want to live way out here. I guess it’s just a matter of God’s desperation to continually sic these sickos on me.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 2001
I’m so fucking pissed right now. No, I’m beyond pissed. I’m furious!

Trouble’s finally moved in behind us, and I know without a doubt there will be trouble. Just one look told me that. As soon as they get settled, they’ll be notorious for all kinds of noise, particularly music.

We got a whole family of freeloaders back there. I saw at least 2 or 3 little kids and 2 adult females. If there’s a man in the picture, I don’t know.

It’s like - fuck! Here we go again. The same old shit all over again, though they’re not at arm’s length this time. They’re gonna drive me crazy with base thumping like hell, they’re gonna trash our land, and you know what? There won’t be a damn thing we can do about it. Whites don’t win going up against minorities whether they have connections or not. I’ll be damned if I’ll make one single little complaint once their shit hits the fan. Why would I? So they can cry racism and harass us more? Maybe get me thrown in jail while they’re at it? I don’t think so!

I’m just so fucking ripped shitting mad right now - ugh! It’s always me that has to get stuck with this shit. Why?! Why God? Why do you insist other’s business be mine? There’s just no escaping what we moved from, is there? I knew it was just a matter of time too, before the shit hit the fan again. I’m totally cursed when it comes to neighbors in this state. Totally cursed.

Anyway, these are the kinds of people that are home all day and that live outdoors. You might have one adult in the household working, but even worse so, I’d bet they’re Section 8. Section 8 with nothing better to do, but blast music and hang outside (in between drug sales). The adults are going to feel too cooped up with the kids inside the house, they’re gonna be like - so what if there are snakes, scorpions and black widows out there? - They’re gonna put the kids outside, and knowing they’re too young to be left unsupervised (at least, I think they’d know that), they’re not gonna just sit there bored. They’re gonna put a nice big fat stereo speaker or two in their windows and blast it outside. Mexicans, like we got to the north of us, are very few and far between; that work and that keep their shit to themselves.

It’s always the blacks and Mexicans that have to come and ruin an otherwise peaceful place. Always! Yeah, congratulations, blacks and Hispanics! You made a die-hard racist here, didn’t you? I’m just tired of God and his obvious obsession with throwing these kinds of sick fucks in my face and having them butt into my peace, my life, etc. It’s like he’s saying, “Oh, no you don’t! You cannot live in peace and block out others from your life. If you’re not going to see other people, in or out of your house, you’re going to at least hear them. You cannot ignore them.”

It’s like he wants to constantly remind me that these people exist. As if I could forget! And why must the past always follow me? Poverty always follows me. The blacks, the Hispanics, the subsidy, etc. Like something wants to remind me of where I came from. Again, like I could forget even if I wanted to. Yes, Maricopa’s just as riddled with Mexicans as the city is, but not many of these 10-acre lots have rentals/freeloaders on them. Right now, we and the people at Dan’s are the only whites out of all the houses you can see well enough from this house, which is now 5 houses. I can’t say what’s renting the middle house, but from the looks of it, the farthest house is definitely freeloader-infested. I can tell that by their dumpy cars and the way they trash their place. Although a lot of owners out here tend to be just as big of slobs. That much I will say. Still, you can almost always look at a house out here and tell if whites live there or not.

They’ve given me every reason to hate them and every reason to know there’ll be trouble from back there. There’s nothing to say there won’t be. What I don’t get is - why not just stay in the city if you like noise and commotion? Why would these people want to come all the way out here? To spoil it for others? And damn George for being such a freeloader-lover!

There’s still no power hooked up. They’re doing what we did. They’re all staying crammed in this little shit trailer till they can get into the house. They have a horse trailer too, but it doesn’t appear there are any horses in it. I hope not. They don’t have fences for that. It also appears they may have one beat-up car and one OK pickup.

I really loved sitting in here when I was up during the daytime, hearing nothing but peace and quiet, and now I’ll be forced to give that up. I’ll have to start sleeping with the fan on high and having music on all the time. Even when I don’t want to hear it. It’s just that if I’m going to be forced to listen to music, I’d just assume have it be my own. Guess there was a reason why I had Tom put nice speakers on the computer yesterday! I have one in here and one out in the living room, so I could listen to the online radio stations while working out. So, as soon as the place goes thump thump with the sound of their base, I can have music out there, too.

I used to get bummed when freeloading trouble like this would move in next to me (behind me in this case), and I’m bummed, alright, but not nearly as bummed as I am furious. I’m so pissed at God for doing this to me over and over again. What’s he gonna do? Send them out in a boat after us once we get on the boat and out in the middle of the ocean? I wouldn’t put it past him. Makes me wonder if he’d preferred I’d married a freeloader with a dozen kids. And it’s usually those with kids that tend to be worse. I’m just so pissed knowing we’ll be forced to be victimized for years till one of us moves (they tend to hate us as much as we hate them).

They’ll love using our fence as a clothesline, once it goes up, but I’d rather that than have their trash dumped over it, and once the plants we plant back there grow tall and bushy, we won’t be able to see the clothes draped over the fence much. It’s just a pity that it’s going to be 6 months to a year before we can’t see them and their shit. Couldn’t you have waited another year, George?! For now, they’re in both sight and sound. Hopefully, it won’t be too long before they’re out of sight, if never out of sound. I also hope it won’t be long before they’re in the house, so I can hear their house stereo which isn’t quite as fierce as car stereos. Them being in a trailer is gonna tempt them to blast that car stereo more often, till the harsh roads fuck the thing up, not that they won’t fix it as fast as it breaks.

Why? Why come here, though, when they can sit in the city and have a million more drug customers and the opportunity to cause trouble? Their car stereo will work better there and there are more people there to hear it, so why come here? See, this tells me all the more that it’s God sending me trouble. They no doubt hate whites and want to ruin a nice, peaceful place to live. Unless George said anything, they don’t know us and Dan’s people are white, though common sense should say so. Nice new, well-kept homes owned by Mexicans? I don’t think so. The question is, how many years will they be here? It doesn’t matter, though, because together George and God would just send me a new batch to pick on me. I’m just sooo glad I don’t have to hear their car doors, them screaming or their dogs barking in this house if they get one.

George’s pickup has been there a couple of times this morning. It looks like he even hauled them in some water. Oh, how sweet of you, George.

I’ll be damned if I’ll make the mistake of bitching to Tom about them and letting them come between us this time around. Tom tends to be pretty defensive when it comes to neighbors, and if I bitch about them, all he’s going to do is make excuses for them, play things down, and make it sound like he’s on their side. You know how neighbor-conscious he is. It’s like he worships them or something.

At least I’ll be getting thinner while I listen to their shit. I finally discovered the right combination of food to lose weight without feeling so hungry all the time. I think I already mentioned this meat and potato diet, but anyway, it’s a piece of cake so far. In fact, I couldn’t even finish all of yesterday’s allotted food, and only ended up having about 900 calories. I’m already down 2 pounds too, to 122. So when I get fat a third time, I’ll know how to kick it back off faster. My body’s still gonna try to fight it once I hit down around 115 by being constipated and all that. I’m still rebelling against nature, so to speak. The question is, will I be able to get down to 110 or lower? You’d think I should be able to if I can comfortably keep my calories down with only one day a week to splurge, but we’ll see. I’m still 35. Not 25.

Later…

I just saw what looked like 2 adult male Mexicans drive a silver jeep-like thing down Ralston, then Meadow Green, then to the house. That’s a nice-looking jeep and pickup for poor, trashy freeloaders. Amazingly, I didn’t hear one beat of music. Not yet, anyway. It’s like the Phoenix freeloaders with all the nice cars, most of them quiet music-wise. It was only a few vehicles that were a source of music. Most of it came from the house which will no doubt be the case with these freeloaders. I’m almost positive none of them work. For all these people to be out and about in the middle of a Monday kind of tells me that. If not all, then some of them will be home all the time. How are all these people going to fit in a 3-bedrroom? That’s what I wondered in Phoenix, too. I swear history’s come to repeat itself all over again! What a chilling, uncanny, eerie resemblance to what we had in Phoenix. It’ll be interesting to see if they come and go every 45 minutes like they did in the city, and if they’re out running around naked at 3:00 in the morning during the summer, although that’d be hard to see from here even without walls.

Troublemakers don’t usually act up right away, though. Once they get settled in is when they act up. Within a week or two we should hear from them. That much I do know. Now I’m not so sure I want porches and a pool. What’s the point of trying to enjoy these things and the peaceful outdoors if the peaceful outdoors isn’t going to be so peaceful? If God can’t bring me to the city, he brings it to me. Even if I complained to George about the noise and trash-dumping and got results, what’s to say they don’t have some vengeful, white-hating friend hiding behind a label that says “biased crimes” waiting to type up a threatening letter and manipulate me into getting my prints on it? I’d know better, though, not to talk to pigs or touch anything they had, but still, I wouldn’t risk it. We’ll just have to take whatever shit they dish out at us.

Later…

Just talked to Tom, who suggested that maybe they were working on the house, but not going to live there, and that the adults working on the house took their kids so they wouldn’t have to find anyone to watch them, but no way. They live there. Why would they bring one trailer, plus a horse trailer, plus another flatbed trailer with God knows what on it, and two vehicles?

Later…

Still haven’t heard any shit yet, but the whole thing just pisses me off. It just pisses me the fuck off so bad! First I had to live in Puerto Rico back east and in Mexico out here. When can I live in the United States?

I can’t believe all the work people put into my bullshit case. With all the copies made of the journals, it’s no wonder they want $40 a month. They gotta get someone to pay for all that ink and paper.

One of the things the public defender showed me right before sentencing (convenient, huh?) was a sheet of paper presumably written by the DA complaining that I referred to the cunt’s boyfriend as “cock,” “it,” etc.

Now since when has it ever been illegal to call someone an “it?” I just don’t get the relevance here, since racism in that form isn’t yet illegal here. Another 5-10 years and they’ll hang us for calling them names like that. Maybe if our lawmakers had to live with them for a while, they wouldn’t be so quick to defend them and shower them with more rights than one could ever imagine any group of people could get.

Lots of clouds and some thunder today, but no rain yet. We did get a little bit of rain last night.

I take that back. It’s raining right now. Big fat raindrops. And the freeloader’s trailers are still here. Because they live here.

Later…

The jeep-like thing just left and this time I got a better look at it. It’s just a pickup with a camper shell and it’s not nice at all. In fact, it’s a piece of shit. The blue pickup’s gone, but the trailers are still here. I take it one, if not both of the trucks will return later, or else those huddled in the trailer would be stranded there. I’m sure that one of the owners of the trucks, if not both, lives there, too. There’s got to be at least 8 of them, counting kids and adults. God knows how many friends, cousins, aunts and uncles will move in with them later on. It’s ok. George won’t mind. Anything for a Section 8. He even said he hated to give one up himself when he was telling us about some other Section 8 nightmare he was evicting. Are there any Section 8s that aren’t nightmares? Makes me wonder.

Later…

The blue pickup just returned.

Holidays are no longer going to be peaceful out here. Holidays like Vet’s Day may be fine, but New Year’s Eve will be rocking. Christmas might even be too, since freeloaders tend to stay home on holidays and have people come to them. Heat and bad weather won’t put a damper on their outdoor antics, either.

God, I feel like I’m in the city that hated to see me go all over again, logging all these freeloading activities, bracing myself in the calm before the storm, knowing I’m in for all kinds of trouble. It’s fated to be and there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop or change it. Only this time, the outcome will differ from the last. I’m not going to jail!

Today’s one of those days where I have no energy whatsoever. I can’t even bring myself to work out. That’s partly cuz of the dreary weather as well as my depression/anger that God could do this to me yet again, and sic a pack of freeloaders on me. Yes, I think I want to move up north if we don’t go on a boat or to a retirement community where there’s a little more money and less trash like this. I’d rather the cold and the snow than this fucking bullshit year after year. I’m really fucking sick of this shit. I’m fed up and I don’t need to take this crap time and time again. A person should have the right to live in peace. Then again, even though there’s less of them up north, God would only see to it that I got stuck with them, so I don’t know. If I’ve got to live with them either way, I may as well do it where the climate’s nicer. I knew the northeast was riddled with Ricans, the southeast was riddled with Cubans, but I had no idea just how infested with scum Mexicans the southwest really was! It’s terrible. I still say there’s more of them than us, but if not, they’re doing a damn good job of catching up. They breed like mice, after all.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 2001
Saw Apple Cheeks, who says I can do the rest of my probation standing on my head.

Oh, I just can’t wait! Like I look soooo forward to it, too!

Anyway, the cheek’s schedule will be changing after the New Year. Instead of reporting to him the first two Fridays of the month, it’ll be the first and third Fridays of the month. See, I knew he wouldn’t be telling me to report just once a month anytime soon. He never will, either. In this state, I’m no better than a murderer.

At least he’s not bugging me here at home as much. Oh, how I wish those freeloaders would come and see me here! But they’re gutless wimps cowering behind the law. I don’t know, though, people like them, who think they’re invincible tend to get stupid. Stupidly brave. Maybe they will come and see me someday. I hope they do, but they damn well better be prepared to die for it! The question is, though, would they have the balls to face me directly, or would they just shoot at the house or try to burn it, then turn around and run? My only fear is that they’d probably be more likely to do shit to the house than to me. Maybe the black bitch is afraid of me like she was playing to be. She should be. I mean, technically, after all she’s put me and my husband through, she has every reason to fear me. Initially, she and her people weren’t afraid of me, but once they finally got a reaction, they probably did get a little scared after all. Maybe they’ll think the next time they pick on some other white neighbor.

At the same time, I fear they won’t “legally” go away. They know they can fuck me over through the law and get away with it. They’ve fucked me over and have gotten away with it for years, so I worry about that going to their heads. I really do. Some people just never stop. Enough is never enough, and I know obsession when I see it. Helen kept saying they don’t think of me, but I disagree. I think they think of me nearly every single day of their sorry lives. It used to be to think of how they could harass me noise-wise, but now it’s how they can use and abuse the law against me. I just hope I have an airtight alibi if and when they ever strike again because if they use the law and refuse to fight fair by directly facing me, there’s no way I stand a chance of beating them. I’m too white and too childless. I don’t have any pig friends, either. Vengeful, angry, bitter friends, hiding behind a label that says, “biased crimes.” All that black pig was out to do was “get even with whites.”

Again, I think of karma and all that, but again I truly believe that different people have different rules and standards set upon them by God. Just because I have to pay dearly for the smallest fuck-up, does not mean others have to as well. What have these freeloaders lost on account of me? A dog? Him living in that house with her? Wow! That’s an awful lot compared to what we lost now, isn’t it? Such poor, poor freeloaders. I know she didn’t lose the house on account of us. We would’ve heard about it if they did. The only thing that surprises me is why they moved out so quietly and civilizedly. If they were moving with nothing more to lose, why didn’t they blast us the fuck out? The stereo had to be broken. It had to be.

They say it’s therapeutic to write your thoughts and feelings down and all that, but I don’t know if I like this writing about the freeloaders almost as extensively as I used to when I lived with them, so I’m going to tune them out now. My freeloader ventilation spree is over for today.

When we came back, I noticed right away that the house smells much better now that there are no GPs here. If I ever get another one, I think it won’t be before the next 20 years.

Tom’s organizing his office now, so he tells me. Oh, I don’t want to hear it! So he organizes some of it, then gives up on it. Or he organizes it all, then trashes it a week later. Big deal.

I miss my Teddy Bear. I want my Teddy Bear. Oh, bear, how I came to love you so!

Little Buddy’s been really demanding attention lately. He sure does love to run around the house! He loves it when I share my treats with him, too. He licks my ice cream off of a knife.

The mice were cute earlier, sliding down tubes like little furry firemen.

Tom downloaded me this fingerspelling screen saver that spells words (musical instruments) but the thing that lets you create your own word list is disabled because we have the freeware version.

I wish I could get a sign language dictionary. That’d be so cool to have just like I have English and Spanish dictionaries.

Tom didn’t go to the PO Box during his vacation because it’s not worth spending the gas money to drive that far, so when he goes on Monday, I hope there’ll be something from Mary. And hopefully, she’ll have something to report to me about Teddy Bear. I wonder just how true it is about my theory about her going away along with me, so to speak. If I understood Mary, she hasn’t worked there as much since I left. Palma hasn’t worked there at all. I wish I could see her, if only for a second. Just steal a quick, secret peek at her to see what she looks like nowadays. I’d still love her, but I hope she hasn’t cut her hair off and decided to go short.

I feel like there’s something I’m forgetting to write about, but if I am, I haven’t remembered it yet. Therefore, I’ll just say that if I’m truly meant to lose this weight and keep it off for once, now’s the time I’ll do it. With the diet plan I’ll be on, there’s no reason why I shouldn’t lose 10-20 pounds unless I really do have a hell of a mental block about losing weight because of how I ended up gaining it back the last two times I lost weight. I’m starting it on Sunday. I’m starting with 1100 calories and I’m even cutting out gum. I’ll have two big 400-calorie servings of potatoes, a 180-calorie serving of roast beef, and a 120-calorie serving of corned beef. Next week I’ll drop down to 1040 calories because by then both meat servings will be corned beef only. And of course, I’ll be exercising, too.

I wrote much more than I meant to and am used to doing these days, and no, I haven’t started my autobiography yet. I will sooner or later, though. First I’m finishing up proofing Teddy Bear’s copy of the jail journal, then I’m going to hear it read back to me by the reader, then that’ll wrap up the Estrella saga.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 2001
I finally began what should’ve been done a year ago, and together, Tom and I picked up scattered bits and pieces of junk throughout the land. I didn’t realize just how much trash there was in the front wash way up near the freeloader’s property line. Makes me wonder if it’s their shit. They live like freeloaders, after all, with shit strewn everywhere. Most people out here live like pigs, though. It’s disgusting. But maybe it’s not theirs. Like Tom said, someone obviously gutted an old camper or trailer and that could’ve been anybody. The more I think about it, the more I think that with all the trash they already have on their land, they’d have gutted the thing right there on their own land.

Anyway, Tom’s going to rent or buy a small tractor one of these days to bury the shit and to use for other things.

It’s looking so much better out there now that we’ve picked up most of the junk that was out there and either put it in sheds, burned it or buried it. It’s looking more and more like a home, and whether we end up here 5 years or 20 years, we may as well take care of things and make them look nice. I know most people don’t care about appearances, especially outdoor ones, but I do. It looks so much nicer now when the weather’s nice enough to be out strolling around. The only thing that takes the fun out of strolling around is those damn ants. They’re everywhere!

I just wonder if Tom will keep his word this time around and not retrash the property. He either procrastinates, quits in the middle of projects, or goes and undoes what he did.

It kind of bothered me when he asked me to watch what I say since on a calm day like today, next door could hear us, and I was like - how many times do I have to tell you - I DON’T CARE! I’m sick of his being so neighbor-conscious. We don’t owe these people or anybody else in society shit and I’ll be damned if I’ll live my life worrying about how others might react to something I say. I don’t care. Period. I’ll wear what I want, say what I want, do what I want, and be myself. If others have a problem with it, then that’s their problem. I’m not saying I should have the right to walk out in public stark naked and call every black and Hispanic a name, then shoot them all dead, but I’m me and others are others. I don’t tell society how to be or how to act and nobody’s going to tell me either. Tom didn’t “tell me.” He asked. But still, I’m not going to live my life for neighbors and screen my speech for them. My life doesn’t revolve around them in any way shape or form unless they force their lives upon me like they did in Phoenix. They’re not a part of my business, and as long as they don’t make their business mine, I’m not going to consider them in my speech and plan around them. Hell, I was even forced to plan how I’d rearrange my furniture for neighbors in the city, for Christ’s sake, keeping furniture away from windows as much as I could! Well, no more!

I can’t believe Apple Cheeks still hasn’t shown up, though today’s a possibility. Either way, I’ve got the forced honor of seeing him tomorrow.

Teddy Bear died this morning before Tom got up. It’s too bad, but now it’ll be a bit less smelly and less expensive too, food and bedding-wise.

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Last updated July 12, 2024