August 2002 in 2000s

SATURDAY, AUGUST 31, 2002
I’m typing this as I soak my feet in warm water laced with baby oil. My feet get so rough with calluses, so I took a scrub brush and scrubbed at the rough spots before soaking them in oil.

Anyway, I’m up to a total of 381 viewings.

Got some more rattlesnake pictures! At 2 AM, Tom got the munchies so he started to go out to the car to get the chips he forgot to bring in. As soon as he went out he heard a loud hissing that sounded like air escaping a tire. For a fraction of a second, he thought something was wrong with the AC, then he realized it was a snake and went back inside. He said it was a good thing he didn’t go down another couple of steps or else it would’ve nailed him for sure. A few hours later we returned just after sunrise with groceries, and we saw the same rattlesnake that I had taken pictures of before, curled up asleep between the AC and the shed, about 8’ from the door. We quietly whisked the groceries through, then went out to wake it up so I could hear the rattle, but it was a sound sleeper! It did awaken somewhat but was either too cold or just not scared enough to move or rattle, but it did coil up and keep an eye on us while we got pictures. While Tom kept an eye on it, I got as close as it’d let me and took pictures. I was about 6-8’ away. The snake was 4-5’ and could only strike 2-3’. Then, later on, when the sunlight was a little brighter, I went out and took some more shots. This time it rattled at me. I’d creep forward, it would rattle, and I’d step back, keeping a safe distance. Again, I got as close as it’d let me. Despite what it stands for, it really is a cool-looking snake.

This is the first summer we’ve seen rattlers on the land, so I assume it’s due to my feeding the prairie dogs. We don’t mind the snake, though, as we’re just extra cautious when we come and go. It’s been keeping stray dogs away, so there’s some good in having it around.

Later…

Speaking of dogs – two large dogs just walked down Ralston and up Meadow Green, as if we already had the fences up, or as if they sensed that there was danger here. Tom said he saw another stray limping badly with an injured leg and we wonder if a snake didn’t bite it. I last saw them at the renter’s, so maybe they live there. Don’t know for sure, though.

Anyway, Tom explained to me that even my just being indifferent and not turned off of the idea of sex entirely, isn’t enough for him. Meaning, he says he only wants sex if I want it, but as I came out and told him, I simply have no desire. It isn’t anything he did, it isn’t that he’s ugly, it isn’t that I don’t love him, I just don’t desire it. I don’t know why, but I don’t. I don’t know what to do about it, either. Just ignore it and keep on going as we have? Get it on and see if I can get into it? See a doctor about it? He says not to worry about it, but I feel like I’m depriving him (if he’s telling the truth about wanting it) yet I can’t make myself feel something I don’t.

I got a couple of letters with drafts from Mary. She’s been depressed, unfortunately. I guess everything’s at a standstill with her case right now. She doesn’t seem to have any idea of when she’s going to court next or what’s going on. I quit bothering to check online cuz they never tell me anything new. They’re all the same color, so, why should they?

She likes the new Celine Dion song too, and says that yes, she’s up listening to her radio at 2 AM, or working out or working on her story. I figured as much, too.

My journal notes still live on 205’s ceiling too, not that I can remember what the hell they said. I’ll have to ask her to tell me. She’s getting along with the baby-beater, so that’s good. She said something about getting an easy-going roommate named Virginia after Hope leaves, which is going to be soon. Guilty or not, I can only imagine just what that girl must be feeling! Ugh! Imagine knowing you were about to go to prison for over a decade! I’d kill myself for damn sure! I wouldn’t care how many good-looking DOs there might be waiting for me there, either.

Later…

I forgot to say that a big lizard ran over the snake at one point, but it didn’t faze it. I’m amazed at how much braver the ratters are as opposed to the king snakes. King snakes run when they see people, but rattlers will stand and fight. That is if need be.

Ok, now it’s off to type Mary’s drafts.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 30, 2002
Tom went to work really late last night and won’t be in till close to noon today. He’s opening the Maricopa PO box today.

Meanwhile, I share excerpts with him from my journal via email at times. In one message I included some of my sexual opinions. In his reply, he wrote: I don’t really agree with your opinions but I know there is no point in expecting them to change. I don’t want to be platonic but I don’t want to have a relationship that isn’t mutual. As long as you don’t care, I don’t want a physical relationship. I want it, but it wouldn’t be satisfying unless you wanted it, too.

Although I told him that it wasn’t that I didn’t care and that it was a case of my going along with his actions, which always speak louder than words, I don’t really want sex with him, and I can’t seem to bring myself to tell him so (this makes me see how it could’ve been hard for him to admit to not wanting a kid back when I wanted one). Instead, I told him I’d go along with whatever he chose. After all, I suppose I’d be obligated to as long as it wasn’t every second of the day. If he wants platonic, okay, and if he wants sex, okay. Because I am indifferent, or better yet, okay with whatever he wants, I decided to leave it up to him. Because he’s someone I love, I would be happy to go along with and follow him on whatever choice he makes, but I’d be lying if I said I could ever feel the amount of desire and lust as with Teddy Bear. I mean, sure he could go down on me and make me cum, but it’s just not the same as with a woman who turns me on the way that she did. I just don’t feel that spark, that longing, as much as I love him, and of course, now my attitude about his cumming would be the direct opposite of what it used to be. Meaning, I wouldn’t want him cumming without rubbers. I know I’m sterile and I know I have destiny working in my favor, but even so, would you take the chance and be dumb enough to walk in front of oncoming traffic just because you don’t think you’ll get hit? No, you wouldn’t. You’d still be a responsible person, I’d hope. Nonetheless, as I told him, it was never that I didn’t care or felt that it had to be one way or another. If he came out and told me he wanted me to stand on my pinky finger all day, then we’d obviously have a conflict of interest. Or if he told me to strangle Little Buddy. Things like that would certainly be much harder to do and they wouldn’t be mutual. But it all comes down to my trying to please the one I love, even if it’s more one-sided like I’ve said many times before. I loved him when we met, I loved him along the way, I love him now, and I always will. This is regardless of how many attractive women I could possibly meet in person or see on TV, etc.

I still think it’s all bullshit, though. I think that if he really wanted sex that bad he’d have made a move on me or at least expressed these desires somehow, someway, but he never did and I think he’s just making excuses, implying that it’s because of me, just like with the kid. I understand, though, how hard it is to come out and admit to the one you love that you’re just not on the same wavelength. It may be wrong not to be totally honest, but I can understand it, nonetheless. Meanwhile, we’ve been platonic for two years now and I’m sure it’ll stay that way. He’s not about to make a move on me, and if he did, it’d be once a year, and I sure as hell ain’t going to be getting it on with Teddy Bear or any other woman like her that turns me on in any serious kind of way. If God had wanted me with the Teddy Bears, the Glorias, the Lindas, the Kates, the Norahs, the Melanies, etc., then that’s who I’d have been with a long time ago. I was meant to be a man’s woman with not much lust involved if any at all. Meanwhile, in this day and age, I’m content to keep the lust alive and active in my fantasies.

Speaking of Teddy Bear, now that I know she’s on first shift maybe I can see her online, but that would only be if she were working the intake area. Who knows how often, if ever, that is? I realize that I may’ve been a bit hard on myself as far as pushing myself to get over her goes. Technically, it’s like I last saw her 4 months ago due to the fact that a whole year of our relationship, regardless of whether or not she followed through with it, was put on hold. So, in a sense, I spent a whole year waiting to get blown off. Mary says she probably has no idea she’s hurt me like this. Yeah, I believe it. No one that’s ever hurt me, be it intentionally or not, has ever known just how much they hurt me. They were always completely clueless as far as that was concerned, and if they ever weren’t completely in the dark about how hurt I was, they certainly didn’t seem to mind. After all, it was only my feelings, wasn’t it? No skin off their backs.

In the letter I got from Mary, she said she’d have been terrified of the snake. As I told her, though, snakes are easy enough to avoid and they can’t get in the house, so I’m okay with them.

I’ve been enjoying this time off from the freeloaders and having to do for them and having my life be forced to revolve around them. It’s been a no-win situation either way. I can’t fight them, I can’t ignore them. Fighting them has gotten me in trouble and so has trying to ignore them. It’s literally like being pinned down by a dozen people where I’m totally restricted from ignoring them and there’s no way in hell to fight back, either. Labor Day’s coming up, so I’ll get an extra day off from them and the possibility that a certain fat face may show up at the house, distract me from whatever I’m doing, and remind me yet again of what these people have done to me and all they’re going to get away with. Makes me wish I was one of those ill characters who get off on being abused! It really helps, though, not to have to see him once a week.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 29, 2002
My waist is up to 30½. That’s a big waist for a five-footer. Maybe someday I’ll lose weight, but I don’t know. I’d only gain it right back, so what’s the point? I’m middle-aged. I’m supposed to be overweight.

Anyway, I see tons of thick gray clouds in the east with a few individual storm cells and bolts of lightning, but I know it won’t make it here. It’s like storms are afraid to come over this particular area.

I’m about to finish up with the 1994 file.

Later…

Soon I’ll be coming up to the last few hours of my day which are my least favorite. That’s when I’m too tired to really do anything, but not tired enough to sleep, so I end up just laying around bored till I finally do knock off.

Sure enough, the clouds cleared and it’s as bright and sunny as most days are in Arizona. Getting hot too, and it’s not even 10:00 yet.

I still feel like something’s teasing me with my singing, even though I only wish to do it for fun and no longer smoke. Every time I sing I have some sort of problem hindering me, be it inhaler congestion, burping, a tickle in my throat, etc.

Just like I spent several years being mad at God for not allowing me a kid, it seems I spend most time being mad at him for his dual standards these days. It was okay for Nancy K to threaten me, the very thing I was supposed to be there for, but it’s not ok for me. No, I can’t threaten anyone. God help me should I lash out, mildly or not so mildly, at those who harass and torment me that I would’ve otherwise ignored had I been left alone by them.

Why must I always be made to pay for someone else’s hatred, stupidity or incompetence?!

Damn my own stupidity too, for not beating the snot out of that black bitch when she came screaming at the door, and damn my own stupidity for “cooperating” with the pigs and for opening the door to them. With my shit luck, though, they’d have just kicked the door down had I not, and Arizona would do something so extreme over a letter, too. Not even small towns like South Deerfield back east would react in such a way to something like this! And all for what? Cuz the fucking “victim” was black? As harsh as Arizona’s laws are, this never would’ve happened if she’d been white as well. I know it wouldn’t have. The question is, though, if the black bitch hadn’t had her piggy friend to use against me, would it still have gone as far as it has? Would things have been so trumped up and blown out of perspective then?

Just as suddenly as the days came when it was hard for me to deal with Teddy Bear’s leading me on and dumping me to the point that I was crying, it’s gotten easier again. Proof that no, God didn’t have anything to do with when it got easier the last time, cuz I didn’t pray for help this time around. I know better and I’ll never pray for a damn thing again. Not even for my life if I were held at gunpoint by some monster!

I did have a funny dream pertaining to Teddy Bear, though, that might make for a good book part. I was back in M Dorm, alone in 203. I squealed with delight when I saw her come through the door at the start of second shift. I noticed she didn’t have her clipboard in hand.

She opened the cell door and stepped inside, letting the door lock shut behind her. “Hey, babe,” she said. “I got it all taken care of.”

“Got what taken care of?” I asked her.

“Another DO’s covering for me so I can spend the night with you.” She kicked her shoes off, took off her work belt and placed it on the metal desk. Then she glanced at my bunk, walked over to it and sat down on it before stretching out on her back. “So this is what these things are like, huh?”

Still stunned and unsure of what to say, I finally said, “Teddy Bear, the DO can see us every time she does a walk.”

“She won’t bother us. She knows what’s going on and she can be trusted.”

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 28, 2002
Boy, I really felt like a “working singer” tonight. I worked on my songs for a couple of hours straight. It’s cool that I could do it in the comfort and privacy of my own home, though privacy is not as big of a deal to me or else I wouldn’t be making a CD. Once I get a handful of fairly decent recordings, I’ll burn a few CDs. That way I can have copies available for whoever I might want to give one to.

Sometimes the songs I don’t think I’ll sound as good doing are the ones that come out better. However, there’s this Gloria song that no matter how hard I try to sing well, I just can’t seem to cut it singing that particular song. I guess it’s just not quite suitable for my voice, but I want to try to make as good of a recording as I can of it cuz it’s one I can do in Spanish. There are a couple of songs in Spanish I’ll be doing, plus a few lines of Spanish in a Selena song.

With some of the songs, I have a hard time with my timing, but I’m doing alright with them for the most part. Maybe this weekend Tom can set me up to record so that I can do it on my own time when he’s at work. That way I won’t have to be distracted by his presence. This way I can do as many takes as I need to till I get a suitable enough recording, just like they do in studios.

Funny how I dreamed of making a professional recording (and what I’ll be doing will be as close as you can get) for 20 years, then I forget about it, then end up doing it anyway. Also, it had dawned on me the other day that Mom, Mary and Dave haven’t heard me sing yet. Soon, though, they will. Not without a few laughs in between, though, I’m sure, since I’m not perfect. But that’s ok. I don’t mind being their source of entertainment in a funny way as well as in a good way. It’s like every other note sounds nice and vibrant where you can tell I’m a trained singer, and every other note sounds dull and nasally, but hey, I am better than most so I won’t complain too much.

I just can’t seem to find a suitable song of Linda’s to do in karaoke form. I’m surprised they don’t have songs like It Doesn’t Matter Anymore. I could do that one. But the others I’ve found either have notes too high or the music’s not complete. I was all set to do Silver Threads & Golden Needles, but the end of the song is missing.

Soon, I’m going to check out the daily pictures online, then do some more fine-tuning. Reading back on some of the shit my family put me through and knowing I’ll never again have to deal with their shit is such a wonderful feeling! Just that one incident alone where Doe made me continue eating after I complained of being full, one day when we went to a restaurant, causing me to end up throwing it all up in the parking lot, is enough to make me wonder how in the world I could ever associate with anyone who could do such a thing to someone. What a sick, twisted individual she was! The older I’ve become, the more I realize just how cruel most of my family really was.

TUESDAY, AUGUST 27, 2002
Another picture was downloaded from Mystery’s Dolls3. I’d be willing to bet it was Joy. That particular album only has a few pictures of her and a few Barbie pictures. I would think that with a doll looking like Joy, it must’ve been her they took. In a dress that I made. And all under 20 minutes, too.

Anyway, I expect that when Tom gets home within the next few hours he’ll have more story clips from Mary about her hiding out in New York from Justin, proof that God does make mistakes.

Meanwhile, I’ve been practicing singing to karaoke a lot, but not working much on my story. I have done some fine-tuning, though.

Anyway, I went to a lyrics site and printed out the lyrics to the songs I may record. If we can get some decent enough songs sung by me, or at least what I consider to be decent enough, we’ll merge the files (me and the karaoke) and burn them onto CDs.

Wish I knew why I was so damn fartsy all the time! I smell like a baby, or like a druggie named Bentley from Tent City. It seems no matter what I eat, my tummy’s a constant gas chamber.

Tom said he probably dropped the can that’s in back when he was bringing stuff out. Let’s hope so. That’s awfully close to the house, though as I said before, a part of me wishes I would catch a pig or a freeloader on the prowl.

We’re still having a very non-existent monsoon season. Of course, we had to have a fierce monsoon season when we had our leaky roof in Phoenix. That’s just our shit luck. If the roof suddenly blew off of this house, it’d rain like hell.

Anyway, as fun as the storms can be to watch, it really is a good thing we’re having all this dry weather. Then there’s no risk of leaks, like through the front door which Tom’s going to get new weather stripping. Rain also brings in the spiders and thunder wakes me up and can mess up my schedule. We’re getting close to the classes. I can’t afford to have any potential threats to my schedule at that point. I’ve got the freeloaders to deal with as it is.

Tom said he heard a report saying that if it doesn’t rain before August is out, it’ll be the first time in 27 years it didn’t rain in August.

I just wish those cheeks would come here when I was either at class or home alone so I could have the honor and the pleasure of ignoring him! But that will never happen. I mean, I’m home 99.9% of the time, so the odds of him stopping by while I was out are very slim. He’d have to be a gorgeous woman for that to happen.

I was telling Tom that with the omission of the freeloaders and the hurt caused by Teddy Bear, the turn of the century’s been the happiest years for me yet and life’s been getting better with time. He said he gets happier too, so this laid to rest any remaining questions I may’ve had about us being platonic. At first I was like, is he normal? Am I normal? Are we normal? But since he’s happy and I’m happy, does it really matter whether or not we’re normal? No, most people wouldn’t be happy with a platonic marriage, and no, most people wouldn’t be happy knowing they’ll probably be celibate for the rest of their lives, but we’re not most people. We’re Tom and Jodi and if Tom and Jodi are happy, then Tom and Jodi can stay the way they are.

It seems up until my early 20s I was obsessed with being “normal.” Then I became eager to rebel against the so-called norm, wanting to stick out like the sorest thumb in the city. Now, I just want to be me. It seems we’re either born to be leaders or followers, but I don’t want to be either one of those. I just want to be me.

MONDAY, AUGUST 26, 2002
The sun’s coming up later these days.

They got rid of the fire truck in back. Now they have a bright green truck. Where do people get the money for so many vehicles?

I don’t want to see Scot till the first Friday of next month, so awake or not, I’m not answering the door before September 6th. I need this rare 3 whole weeks off from seeing his face.

Meanwhile, I’ve been having a field day getting karaoke MP3s. They don’t display lyrics while they’re playing, so I went to this site that has tons of lyrics and printed them out to make singing to them easier if I do any recording. Tom says he misses hearing me sing, though I still do nearly every day with the music blasting. We discussed recording me singing to the music which only contains background vocals. Who knows? Maybe we’ll even give a copy to Mom, Mary and Dave if it comes out halfway decent. I mean, it doesn’t have to be perfect. At least I won’t have to stop and clear my throat every other line like I did when I smoked. I’ll just have to remember not to use my inhaler before I sing cuz that makes me congested at times, too.

Still haven’t heard from Paula. Yeah, she’s really grateful, ain’t she? That’s ok, though, she isn’t hearing from me, either. Not till I email my monthly journaling, but I don’t know if she’ll get it. That kid of hers just doesn’t get it when he’s told to let her know when she’s got an email. Sometimes he does, but he obviously doesn’t for the most part, but hey, she either gets it or she doesn’t. I’m not playing one-sided pen pal with her anymore. I’d rather put the ink, paper, stamps and envelopes towards Mary, my mutual, sane friend.

SATURDAY, AUGUST 24, 2002
I decided, believe it or not, to write another jailhouse story. Only difference is that this time around it’ll be hyped up with pieces of bullshit thrown in here and there. Tom even suggested I write about a real-life experience and expand on it. Oh, I’m going to expand on it alright! It’ll be written in story format and not laid out like a journal. Also, Teddy Bear and I will get to do the things we never got to do in reality! Hee, hee! Just like The Dead Zone series is based on characters and events from the movie, my book will be based on real-life experiences and real-life people. I think I might even be psychic too, and make Pancake Face Smith do things I could only dream about making her do when she pulled Mary. Things like uncontrollable and highly embarrassing farting. Yes, in my story I shall have what just about everyone else has had over me that I didn’t – control. What I say will go. Tom probably won’t care, but I’m sure Mary will get a kick out of it. It’ll basically be a romantic comedy with the DO’s names changed, yet still close to their real names, leaving just the inmates’ true names. I’ll probably only include DOs and inmates that were main players in real life. Probably only the ones who stood out in either good or bad ways and no in-between DOs or inmates like Brea and Carolyn P.
At first I asked myself, do I really want to write this story and chance jinxing myself into having all this come true? But I could never end up as psychic as I plan to be in this book. Besides, I’ve written plenty of things that never rang true in the end, and remember, in the story Andy and I talked about me writing, the inmate and guard got it on. Teddy Bear and I obviously didn’t get that far, of course. So, my story ideas almost came true, but they didn’t quite make it.

I think I’ll even change my charges. Maybe I’ll have spray-painted a building or something. No chance of that getting jinxed into reality since I have no desire to spray-paint anything.

This time around I’m going to proofread it a few times once it’s done and not give it to anyone as I complete each chapter like I did with my bio. I want to make sure I get any typos I may have missed the first time around taken care of.

I don’t know how long it’ll be. I’ll just write whatever I feel like writing for however long I feel like writing it. I’ll do this in between my usual household tasks, my regular journaling, my fine-tuning of old journals, Mary’s story, and hopefully soon, my dollmaking.

Later…

What the hell is going on? I was doing better, but now I just can’t get that woman off my mind! Damn those mother-fucking freeloaders Joely N and Debra V for doing this to me, damn Tammy B, damn the pig Jerry O, damn Paul K, damn Judge H, damn the DA Jackie I and damn God for sitting back and allowing all these people to shit on me time and time again for no reason at all.

Why must I always be hurt over something? If it’s not impossible dreams depressing me, then it’s over a woman I can never have. Hurting over her is better than wanting a kid like I did for what? 4 or 5 years? Anyway, I try to tell myself that I could’ve ended up a lot more hurt if we had gotten together, but it doesn’t really console me. The new millennium has brought an all-time low in depression (though plenty of anger), but trust me, today and yesterday have been quite sad.

I start to think, oh, how nice it’d be if she had to return to M Dorm and be flooded with a ton of memories of me, making her be the one to be depressed for a change, as well as maybe feel a little guilty. But then I tell myself to come back down to earth. She wouldn’t remember and think of me, but maybe for a second. As for guilt – well – she’s obviously okay with what she’s done or else she’d have at least called or written to tell me she hasn’t forgotten about me, but we can’t get together. God wouldn’t allow her to return while Mary was still there. That way I can go on hurting without any answers and wondering what happened and how and why she could blow me off like she did.

When I first got out of jail, Tom said that since there was no fighting any of the corrupt, prejudiced assholes that put me in the predicament I’m in today and have been in and will be in for quite a while to come, anything he did would be strictly revenge. He insisted, though, that he’d never tell me what he was going to do, saying that the less I knew the better. At first I was all for it, though I always figured he was just saying this to try to make me feel better since he’s never been the vengeful type. Then as time went on I was like, hey, this is Arizona. The strictest state in the country along with Texas. And we’re Tom and Jodi S. We can’t do shit even if we could cuz we’d just end up in prison for sure. Maybe God would let someone else get away with fucking someone over, but we could never get away with fucking someone over, and certainly not these precious freeloaders he’s been hell-bent on protecting and worshiping ever since the get-go. If we were so much to as dare to even give them dirty looks, we’d be going down big time. So I told Tom, even though I know he’s not going to do anything simply because he couldn’t do anything severe enough to them without exposing himself anyway, that just like with everyone else who’s fucked us over, there’s nothing we can do. We just have to let it go and hope that God really truly does have good reasons for protecting these people, though I can’t imagine what they could be. Nonetheless, if he’s gone this far with covering their asses, he’s not going to stop. Remember, I told him, people can do whatever they want to with us. It’s us that are forbidden from doing anything, be it fighting back against those fucking us over, or fucking over someone for no reason ourselves. If it’s us, we can’t get away with it, so drop any plans you may have. Meanwhile, I’ll just cry over Teddy Bear for 4 or 5 years till it’s on to something else to get me down or perhaps piss me off and frustrate the hell out of me.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 23, 2002
Got a letter from Mary today. She told me Chavez told her Teddy Bear’s still at Madison, but is now on 1st shift. Also, she could return anytime since DOs are transferred regularly.

I was surprised it was Chavez to tell her this since she had told me she was moving to Vegas at the end of ’01. Or is that just something you tell a stalker? Nah, I’m sure she wasn’t worried about me and that she meant it. She probably just changed her mind and decided to stay in Arizona.

Anyway, I know she won’t return while Mary’s there. If God wanted me to have some answers or at least a shot at some answers, then he’d have made sure Teddy Bear was there after the letter was sent. Yet it’s obvious he doesn’t want me getting any answers. To him, she was just another tool he could use to hurt me, and I should’ve known better than to even think of praying for help in getting over her. I should’ve known my prayers would fall upon deaf ears. He’s probably up there laughing at me right now! Just when I think I’m going to get over her and that perhaps something up there really is helping me to get through, tears sting my eyes when I remember and think of her. I tell myself I won’t let her make me cry, but then again, maybe I should let it all out, maybe it’d help and maybe I’d feel better. So, like Helen would suggest I do, I allowed myself to cry for a few minutes earlier.

I gotta wonder, though – if I could tell her how hurt I’ve been over her ignoring me, would she feel bad, or would she just look at me and laugh? And how would she react if another female inmate started flirting with her that she was attracted to? Would she tell them too, that she’d respond to them if they waited a year before contacting her?

I know, though, that regardless of why she blew me off, what we had going back in jail was real. I’d be willing to bet Bailey, Joy and Jade that it would’ve escalated to kisses and a bit of touchy-feely too, had we both been there longer.

Oh, Teddy Bear! You’ll never know just how much I love you, never know just how much you hurt me.

I’m not too alarmed over this, but I discovered something a bit disturbing as the sun was setting. Tom had just left for work and I heard a pop. The kind the house makes when it’s settling. That’s probably just what it was, but this one was pretty loud. It almost sounded like something hit the back or front door. I was in my office when I heard it. So, I got up and looked out the kitchen window. That’s when I noticed a beverage can of some kind, though I can’t be sure that’s what it was, nestled up against the long-dead garden fence. I know the wind’s capable of blowing cans around and I’m not saying anyone’s been lurking around, but I just think it’s a weird place for one to end up on this property. I can see one ending up in front with it being almost a straight shot from the road to the house. But in back of the house and especially so close to it, wouldn’t a can have to get hung up on the brush no matter which direction it came from? Cans aren’t as light as paper or plastic shopping bags that can fly up over trees and brush easily.

Again, I’m not saying it means anything, but you know, I really wish at times those freeloaders would have the balls to face me here on our property. That is, unarmed and one at a time, of course. I couldn’t fight them with the law, but I could at least try damn hard with my fists and rage. Tom and Mary are probably right, though. They’re not going to fuck with me out here without connections. They wouldn’t have the guts. That’s why they cowered behind the law in the first place.

I jokingly said to Tom that I ought to get a shirt that says “In God I Do Not Trust” and he said, “Now why would you want to do that and set yourself up for harassment?”

Well, I don’t, but you know, there comes a time when I have to be me. Period. Regardless of what others may think. I can’t worry about other people’s poor, poor feelings all my life. If they’ve got a problem with me, then that’s their problem. As long as I don’t push my views on others, I’d be doing nothing wrong by getting a shirt that said that, and dammit, I’m not going to kiss this society’s ass! I don’t owe them shit and they don’t owe me shit. All we owe each other is respect and the right to be ourselves.

Anyway, he explained to me what all the fuss is all about. To me, it sounds like nothing more than wishful thinking, but again, we all have a right to our beliefs. According to him, most people believe life’s one big test and that it’s the devil and not God that causes bad things to happen. The test is to determine who goes to hell and who lives eternally with God, but I’m sorry, he should be stepping in more often. This is just my opinion, but sometimes a little divine intervention, as they call it, is necessary. Just like Art should’ve defended us against Doe, so should he when the going gets really rough. It was one thing to “test” me by sitting back and letting the freeloaders shit on us like they did when we were still living together, but shouldn’t he and couldn’t he have put his foot down once it came down to going to jail? I think that’s when he should’ve stepped in and said, “Hey, enough’s enough already! Leave this poor girl alone. She never did a damn thing to provoke you, yet you’ve been picking on her for no reason at all other than that she asked that your music be lowered” (and that I was Jewish, but I didn’t know that at the time).

But no, to add insult to injury after all the shit they put us through on N. 21 Ave., I had to go to jail, live in a shoebox with a few psychos and noise that makes the NHA seem like it was as quiet as where I am now, take cold showers, eat inedible spicy food, get shit for sleep, then get my head played with and my heartbroken, not to mention all the shit and stress I’ve gone through since being out. So, when is enough ever enough? Although barely, I survived my family, I survived Brattleboro and Vermont, I survived shitty “friends” and neighbors, I survived not seeing many dreams come true, and I’ve survived jail. What more do I need to survive and what for?

I don’t believe in heaven and hell. Not the way some people do. Meaning, I don’t think God hates gays or anything like that. Hell, he even has a heart for perverts and murderers! I believe this simply because I find it hard to believe they’d exist if he really had anything against them. If I was going to create a world, why would I create horrible people along with it? I believe he can hate certain individuals and families, but not whole groups of people.

I asked Tom what he thinks is the case after we die and he said he doesn’t know. Neither do I. I don’t know if we’re reincarnated or if we just blink out and that’s it or what.

On the lighter side and to speak of one of my passions in life, PG has a couple of cute new $25 fairies that Tom said we can get, along with $40 Amelia, by the end of the year. I know we’ll get free shipping, and if the discount coupons are good we should save $15 on the whole order. One of them is the same mold, except for the arms and legs, as my Valentine Fairy. They did her and Emerald over with the same color hair, but this time around Emerald’s is short and Valentine’s is curly. I don’t like Emerald’s makeover, but Valentine, called Rainbow in this version, wears a cute, colorful dress. So does Rainbow’s Jewels which also comes with a resin mouse. I can’t show pictures to Mary cuz of the copy guard that site has, so I’ll just wait till I get them and shoot my own.

They were having “Hawaiian” Day at work and they were giving out these shell necklaces to the employees, so Tom brought home his. It’s kind of nice with cream-colored shells. Maybe a doll can wear it someday, but for now it’s on the doorknob of the back door.

What the fuck? Did Dan move back into the area? I’ve been hearing loud motors on and off since nightfall, yet it doesn’t sound anywhere close, fortunately.

Well, it’s just after 11 PM now. Been up since 1 PM. I’m going to hang loose, listen to some music and watch TV till I crash. Maybe read, too. I watch a lot of the legal and forensics stuff, old Charlie’s Angels reruns, and I just taped a new movie of Stephen King’s with psychics, ghosts, and all that fun stuff I love.

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 21, 2002
PG’s now having a sale where you get $10 off any orders over $100 and $5 off any orders over $60, and I’m like, oh wow, what a sale! A lousy $5 or $10. If it were $20 or $30, that’d be more of a sale.

Got a couple of letters and book clips from Mary. I asked her if she’d be interested in any of my journaling now that she’s got the whole jailhouse journal, and if so, what would she be interested in? The 80s, 90s, current? Or should I just pull excerpts out at random? She should recognize people’s names from my autobiography. That way, if I pull a 1987 clip pertaining to Nervous, she won’t be like – who the hell is he?

She said she thought the prairie dog pics were so cute and that she has them on the wall. That is, I’m sure, till Misery tells her to take them down.

She said it was up to me what name I wanted to use in her book. At first I thought, well, I like the name Dawn better than Jodi, but then I decided I’ll just be Jodi. That way, if the book ever does get published, I can tell people, like my in-laws, to look for my name in the book.

It may be a bit premature, but has she thought of a name for the book? I asked her. I know that if I had written a book on my experience with the freeloaders/law/jail, I’d have called it, It Happened to Me, It Could Happen to You.

I suggested book titles for her book like For the Love of Gretchen or For All the Gretchens Out There.

Maybe something more dramatic like Run, Before It’s Too Late!

She’s always saying she doesn’t remember where she left off, so I suggested she keep a separate piece of paper to keep track of subjects so she’ll know where she left off. She could even write them on the walls or ceilings like I used to!

I asked her if she thought Hope knowingly tried to kill her kid, or if she thinks she almost did in the heat of the moment. She said she doesn’t know and tries not to think about it cuz it’s better that way. Yeah, I hear her as far as how it’s sometimes best not to know the truth about others. Especially if the truth could be something you don’t want to know/hear. Makes it easier that way. I still just cannot believe they’ve been together this long! I’ll bet if I were in that jail for 10 years I wouldn’t get the blessing of residing with the same person for more than 4 weeks.

She’s very lucky to have a compassionate PO which she describes the guy to be. He didn’t even violate her for running! Scot’s the type that’d violate someone just for thinking about running. Anyway, I think that what helps Mary get more compassion than I have is a combination of the fact that there’s a dead kid involved, her overall appearance (she’s young and pretty), and her friendly demeanor. She doesn’t look like a criminal, you don’t talk like a criminal, you don’t act like a criminal, not that I do. Also, there were no “minorities” involved. No one with legal connections to use against her, either.

I had asked her how she could’ve run to Seattle with Justin after he killed her kid and she said she was so brainwashed by him that she didn’t know what she was doing. I could never imagine anyone ever being able to brainwash me in the way he did with her cuz I’m such a stubborn, defiant bitch. Especially after getting screwed over the way I did when I was a younger, too-nice and too-trusting person. It’s taught me not to put much stock in what others say/do. I can understand, though, that with her being such a sweet, loving, mellow person how a sick twist like him would take advantage of her. And I can see that with her being as young as she was and with not having much of a family to turn to it’d be easier to succumb to abuse like that. I figured he had to have either brainwashed or threatened her into running to Seattle. I knew she wouldn’t just up and willingly go along with it, but damn! I had no idea of the hit he put on her! He said he had a hit out on her and that she was grateful when the FBI rescued her. I don’t know why he had to have a hit on her when he could’ve killed her himself. He’d already killed the kid himself. What? Would having two murders on his hands be too much to handle?

If Teddy Bear won’t return, then I wish Palma would at least get back there so she can tell her I kind of miss her.

Anyway, she tells me yet again how grateful she is to have me as a friend she is and how I’ve taught her it’s ok to trust again, but no, it’s not ok. Certainly not with just anyone! I live like a hermit for a reason. I have Tom, my pets, and her as my pen pal/friend, and that’s enough. It would’ve been nice to have Teddy Bear as a side dish, but side dishes weren’t meant to be, obviously, so I make do with what I have. It’s not that what I have isn’t good enough, it’s just that Teddy Bear got me all psyched up for nothing. To me, she’d have been an extra bonus to add to what I already have, but instead, my extra bonus will be dollmaking.

I’m slightly tired today. Sometimes, for no apparent reason, I wake up a little earlier than I’d have liked and I can’t go back to sleep. I totally do not miss all those wake-up calls in jail! I do not envy Mary with the are-you-okay shit from the nurses, the clothes exchanges, people screaming on their hour out, etc.

Wonder if she’s still a night person? Sometimes when I’m up at 2 AM, I wonder, is Mary up now, too? Maybe listening to her radio?

TUESDAY, AUGUST 20, 2002
Mary sent one envelope with a quick note and some drafts, and I got the 3 envelopes back. From now on I’ll send one picture sheet at a time. God, this world is so hell-bent on rules and control! I mean, who fucking cares how many pictures they get? Why do people make such big deals out of nothing? It’s only pictures!

Tom and I were just talking about how nice it is to be on the same wavelength as far as what we want to do in life goes. I mean, I know I’m going to be the main dollmaker, but he’s so into it with me and that’s cool. I can tell this by the way he’s been bringing up the subject on his own, doing research, etc. He doesn’t try to steer clear of the subject or make excuses. He’s been putting his actions where his mouth is on this one and that’s cool. Not that we can’t do things that the other isn’t into at times. He doesn’t have to like the same music I like and I don’t have to like the same shows he likes, but when it comes to more serious goals and dreams, mutuality is nice. Not that being married to him isn’t worth it, but it’s tough when we disagree on big things, cuz then we have to try to figure out who should get their way. This is just my personal opinion, but I’d always try my best to encourage him if he wanted to get into something I didn’t. If it wasn’t anything that could harm either one of us in any way, I would feel obligated to support the one I love.

I didn’t want to be a singer for very long after we met, so it didn’t really matter that that wasn’t mutual and although things worked out for the better and I’m glad we never had a kid, his not supporting me when I did want one was wrong. Again, this is just me, but I think he should’ve been blunt up front and stayed that way if he was sure he didn’t want a kid, or if he did, he should’ve gone to a therapist and tried to fix his problem (not 3 years later). Instead, he made vague references about not wanting one in the beginning, then changed his story to sound good to me while his actions would totally go against his words, as he’d make one excuse after another. Never should you lead a loved one on and say you’re going to do something you don’t that you know is important to them.

Anyway, hopefully we’ll both have learned from the past, and hopefully, if I decided I wanted to open a restaurant, though I can’t imagine why I ever would, he’d be there to support me even if he disagreed with it, just as I’d be there to support him if he decided he wanted to get a bunch of smelly horses that’d eat up a great deal of our time and money. Sure I’d bitch about it along the way, but who the hell would I be to stop him? And who the hell would I be to string him along, make excuses, and not do what I said I was going to do? Hopefully, we won’t ever again be faced with non-mutual goals/dreams, but if we are, we are, and we’ll have to support each other. One doesn’t have the right to play God with the other’s dreams. And one’s only choices shouldn’t have to be to either give up what they want or leave the person.

I was watching an old Law & Order show. The DA was saying that a certain sentence was too harsh and to go to someplace like Arizona if they thought they wanted to impose such a sentence. Not New York, one of the most tolerable places. Yeah, I’m not surprised Arizona was mentioned. Arizona, the state that tolerates absolutely nothing but hatred towards Jews and gays.

You know, I gotta wonder about that black bitch and her sick cock. I mean, I have a feeling I’m not the first one they’ve used their black pig pal to drag into court out of spite, revenge and hate. And surely I couldn’t be the last. Just like there’s no such thing as a one-time rapist, these aren’t the kinds of people that would use and abuse the law against someone they’re pissed off at just once. If any decent lawyer or judge could set aside the “poor, poor minority” attitude this state’s so hooked on, and do a little digging, they may be surprised to see a frightening pattern when it comes to any of these freeloaders. The question is, would they want to see it? That’s the real question, cuz I have a very strong feeling that even if you waved the truth in their faces, they wouldn’t want to know it.

MONDAY, AUGUST 19, 2002
It’s nice to have a break from Mary’s stuff so I can catch up on my own shit. I fine-tuned more of ’94 and printed out what I’ve done so far. I decided to quit the fine-tuning of when I go to jail, so this means I printed out all of ’01 and what I’ve done so far of ’02. So I’ll work my way up from mid-’94, which is where I’m at now, to October 30th of ’00.

Little did I know when on October 29th of 2000 I said that tomorrow was my “final round” with those freeloaders! Boy, was I wrong! I couldn’t have been more wrong if I tried! In a sense, that was just the beginning. Far from the end. I’m still far enough from the end and like I said, it feels like I’ll never shake free of them. Like I’ll always be counting freeloader time down.

Yesterday evening was windier than it had been in a week, and today while I slept, it drizzled for a minute, according to Tom, who did a lot of straightening up in his office (finally), but still no serious rain.

Mary L replied back saying she liked the foot accents I did on the Irish fairy. She’s also glad she lives where she lives so she doesn’t have to worry about wild creatures. Speaking of which, I got a cute shot of a prairie dog peeking out from under a trench it dug under the water bowl.

I was doing okay for a while there, then Teddy Bear started eating at me again for the millionth time. Oh, how I miss her, and oh how I long to be in her arms getting to know her, getting it on, etc! Being attracted to her was one thing like I was with Palma, but did I really have to go and fall so in love with her too, to make matters worse?! Who knows? Maybe when I’m 40 I’ll be over her. God must not want me to have any answers as to why she blew me off or else she probably wouldn’t have left Estrella. Mary’s my only hope of getting the chance to find out anything if she’d just get her ass back in there before she leaves! Maybe I’ll see if she can find out what the usual deal is as far as where DOs work, for how long, and what the odds are of them ever returning to a place they once worked at.

I think back to the time she told me she didn’t want me to feel slighted when she told me to wait a year before writing to her. Well, how does she think I felt when I got no response to my letter? Doesn’t she know that if I didn’t care about her contacting me I wouldn’t have bothered writing her in the first place?

Well, since I’m sure I’ll be back working again for Mary tomorrow, I’m going to go work for myself now.

SUNDAY, AUGUST 18, 2002
There was a big electrical storm a couple of evenings ago, but as usual, it missed us.

As dull as our land is compared to by the mountains, it’s so beautiful. Yes, Arizona’s best quality is its landscape as its worst are its laws. New England’s best is its bigger, more spread out houses and its worst is its weather.

Sometimes I get the feeling Tom’s not truly happy with me. When Paula asked if he got clingy in fear of losing me to Teddy Bear, I told her no and that he didn’t show any signs of being insecure or worried about losing me to her, and I always assumed it was because he didn’t mind if she and I got it on if that’s what I wanted. But could it be that deep down he was hoping I’d ditch him for her, figuring it’d be easier that way than to dump me? Could it really be that he’s simply putting up with my existence? If I asked him if he were happy with me, I don’t know if I’d get the truth only because he’s quicker to admit something he does want than he is to admit something he doesn’t. If Tom S says he’s against something, he is. If he says it’s something he likes or wants, then maybe it’s true and maybe it isn’t. That’s why I have to go by his actions rather than his words, but one has to do that with just about anybody. Actions really do speak louder than words.

My only complaint lately is his snapping at me. Maybe he doesn’t mean to come off as a grouch or realize he’s doing it, but this has been going on for a while now and it really bugs me. He comes off as defensive, annoyed and impatient when answering my questions or responding to statements. I’ve made it clear to him how I feel about this, but it hasn’t changed anything, though I’ll admit he’s been pretty mellow today, talking in casual tones. Well, I’d rather be with him and have him snap at me than leave, even if I had the means to do so and to fend for myself. It’s only a tone of voice after all and I know things could be worse. It’s not like he’s taking swings at me or smashing our stuff. Then I don’t know what I’d do. All I know is that I’m not Paula or Tammy who thrive on and get off on abuse. They love abuse and to be called names and swung at. It’s mostly cuz they’re sympathy junkies who also love to wallow in self-pity.

SATURDAY, AUGUST 17, 2002
Well, someone’s playing music out there tonight. I could hear a few faint beats when I was in the bedroom, but I couldn’t say where it was coming from. That’s nothing compared to the sounds of A Tower – ugh! I do not miss it! But I know it’s only a matter of time before I’m once again held prisoner someplace I don’t want to be. There were the camps, Brattleboro, Valleyhead, a few days at the Springfield crisis center, a handful of noisy apartments, a noisy house, jail – what’ll it be next? And when? How long will I get to live in peace in a place I’m happy in before I end up in some shitty, chaotic place I can’t even hear myself think in?

You know, it may sound funny, but I was crying a bit last night when I thought of Houdini. I mean, I knew he was going to die sooner or later, and with Little Buddy and the time that’s gone by, it’s not that I miss him, but it’s the circumstances connected to him. You know, those freeloaders that relate to just about every single event in my life that’s gone on for the last 6 years. He’s just one of the millions of things they’ve had a hand in. The day I was sentenced, that was it for me and Houdini. Tom got to have him for 6 more months, but for me, it was over.

I still miss and think of Teddy Bear too, of course, going back and forth in my mind between wondering why she ditched me, to intimate thoughts of her. I couldn’t get it on with just any woman simply because they’re women, though. I have to be attracted to them. Hopefully, though, I won’t know anyone ever again long enough to become attracted to them in the first place. I’d rather a life of celibacy if Tom and I are gonna remain platonic.

It’s like each curse the freeloaders put on me led to another. First they had me thrown in jail for absolutely no reason at all other than that I was a complaining Jew, and as if that’s not bad enough, I had to go and fall in love and in lust with someone who led me on and broke my heart. She knew I liked her and I knew she liked me, so what happened? I still think it was the combination of the distance, the being married, and her meeting someone in between.

Still, I have to wonder – did she actually end up doing me a favor? Would things have been worse if we had gotten together? Would we have been just friends or would we have become part-time lovers and would I have felt guilty if we had? Well, perhaps it really is a good thing I’ll never know! The only thing I know that couldn’t have happened is that I wouldn’t have traded in Tom for her for a million bucks and then some.

I’m now up to a total of 305 photo album viewings. The rats are in the lead with 57 viewings of the first one and 27 of the second one. The two Mice albums have 46 and 10 viewings. Assorted Pets has 8, Our Wildlife has 37, Our Land has 54, and the 3 doll albums have 18, 23, and 24.

At 9:00 Tom and I ran up to Circle K for some snacks. It was still quite hot out. As we were returning he pointed out how invisible our house is when there are no lights on and it’s true. Unless the moonlight is really bright, you could drive by it and not even know it was there.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 16, 2002
Yesterday I was surprised to receive an email from the dentist thanking me for sharing my albums which the staff liked. I didn’t expect any email. Especially since it’s been a while since they checked out the albums.

It definitely is an old fire truck they have back there that’s a collectible. It’s so fucking ugly to have to see, too. It really stands out. Again, though, better seen than heard. An eyesore’s always better than having my ear assaulted with thumping bass.

It’s so damn hot out there right now that there’s not much animal activity. Around 6:00, though, it’s quite a farm out there with the prairie dogs, rabbits and birds.

Last night I was so damn nervous about reporting. I kept telling myself, you’ve been out over a year and nothing’s happened yet. This should be easy for you.

But it’s not. When it comes to dealing with the law, you just never know what to expect. Well, I know I certainly don’t. For all I know, I could walk in there one day and Scot could say to me, “The “victim” got mugged. I think you did it. You’re under arrest.”

Anyway, speaking of the sorry black bitch herself, he never mentioned her. Not even a word about how much time I have left! And to further shock us, he was even friendly today. Usually, he’s just polite, but he was actually quite perky today. I’ve never seen him so talkative and relaxed. It was the least serious I’ve ever seen him be. He started off by saying he’d never seen us “kids” out so early, but we were just two weeks ago. Then the talk turned mostly to cars. We told him that the main reason we were out early was to beat the heat since we agreed to forget about fixing the AC and just get an old truck to fix up.

“Know anybody with a piece of shit?” I asked him.

Then he said his mother was in an accident that totaled her car, though fortunately she wasn’t hurt, and is looking for a new car.

As I figured, he said he was from Arizona when I asked.

“Never lived anywhere else,” he said.

When I mentioned the 3 states I’ve lived in, he said the west coast must really differ from the east coast.

“Oh, yeah,” I told him, “but they both have their pros and cons as with any place.”

Arizona’s pros are its beautiful landscape, the more modern buildings, the prairie dogs, and the lack of severe cold, snow and humidity.

Its cons are the harsh, unfair laws, the big, year-round bugs, the bleachy-tasting tap water, and the way most houses are so close and apartment walls are too thin.

New England’s pros are its tap water and the fact that the laws are much more reasonable, including more rights/protection when it comes to Jews and gays. The laws tend to be fairer as far as not favoring certain groups of people. Also, the people aren’t as sensitive and vindictive. In Arizona, they’re quicker to take more things personally. Being liked and accepted is more important to most people out here.

Its cons are its cold, humid, snowy weather, the mosquitoes, the old ugly buildings and the high cost of living.

I just saw a couple of prairie dogs playing. I can tell the difference when they’re playing like rats versus fighting like mice.

Anyway, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that I don’t have to report for 3 whole weeks since there are 5 weeks in August. I didn’t think there’d be 3 weeks between reports till November. Since he recently came to the house, I can relax, enjoy life and have it all to myself for 3 whole weeks!!! What a wonderful treat that is! I sure do feel a lot more relaxed than I did last night and this morning! Now I don’t have to worry about schedules or anything. Not for a while, anyway.

After going to the bathroom at Circle K (now I have no clue as to when he’ll test me) and getting some snacks, we went to the post office. They have boxes available, but first they want proof of our physical address, so Tom will take care of that soon enough.

All the crashing I was doing cuz of the faulty fan and processor did corrupt a few pages in the 1994 journal I’m currently working on, but I was able to replace it with a backup, so that’s good.

I went to brush dust balls out of Maria’s hair and it wasn’t very easy. Talk about a shitty wig! I couldn’t get a comb through it to save my life. So, I decided to braid it so it’d be easier to dust, but because it’s so curly, it was hard to braid. Finally, I decided to cut it. I didn’t mean to cut it all the way up to her shoulders, but it adds variety since I don’t have any dolls with shoulder-length hair, and it actually looks kind of cute. It frames her face nicely. Also, her hairstyle doesn’t matter that much cuz she’s got a sheer black and gold veil over it.

Other than that, I changed both the rats’ and mice’s cages, and that’s pretty much it. Unless I counted wrong, I’m two days late for my period, which is rather unusual for me. At least I can’t be pregnant!

Just like I couldn’t wait to get MP3s, I can’t wait to make dolls and get more of the dolls I’ve been wanting for a long time now. I also think it’d be neat to add a blue-eyed blond Joy, a green-eyed redheaded Joy, and a black Joy to my Indian Joy. My Indian Joy has a short dress on, so I think I’d do one of the others in a long dress, one in shorts, and one in long pants.

I printed out a large pearl-colored dewy rose and put it on the side of the bar in the kitchen and it goes so well with the whitewash.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 15, 2002
Justin and Paula left me another message shortly after I last wrote. All she wrote was that she liked the stuff and that she’d call me, but sure enough, she never did. Tom suggested that maybe she was too broke to afford a long-distance call and was too embarrassed to admit it, but I think she simply didn’t feel like calling. She’s just one of those who says she’s going to do things she doesn’t do.

Meanwhile, I told her I wasn’t going to keep spending money on paper, envelopes, ink and stamps when I can simply email her my journals on a monthly basis. Whether or not she remembers to check for them and whether or not the kid lets her know they’re there if she doesn’t, is a whole different story.

Speaking of mail, Mary’s still bombarding me with drafts. Damn! I didn’t think she’d ever write this much. What sucks is that she got a rejection slip for 3 letters due to excessive pictures. But I didn’t go over the 5 picture limit, so they’re either sending them back cuz I sent too many envelopes’ worth at once, or maybe they’re counting the picture I use for address labels as an extra picture. I don’t know. I’ve mailed multiple picture envelopes before with picture labels, so as Mary said, maybe there’s someone new in the mailroom. I’ll just make sure from now on not to send her pictures till she’s had enough time to get previous ones.

While I don’t care the least bit for her exes, her parents, or her father-in-law, I admire her mother-in-law for having the balls to admit her son is the monster that he is. Most parents wouldn’t admit that about their kids even if it were true.

I agree with her suggesting she get an abortion only because being broke and on the run from a madman seems like no time to be having a baby. Also, there is scientific proof suggesting that if a child is born to someone with more aggressive genetics, then there’s a higher chance that it too, will grow up to be aggressive. She tried to point this out to her but had it been me in her shoes, though, I’d have gone with the fact that I was homeless and not financially set. That would’ve been plenty enough reason for me to get an abortion, even if I wanted a kid. Sometimes one must follow their head and not their heart and do what’s best, even if it’s not what they want.

However, I disagree with her not sending her to Mexico like she asked her to. Actually, I think she should’ve sent her to a country with no extradition treaty. Especially if she had the means to do so which she apparently did. That’s what Tom and I plan to do if I’m ever framed again. We’re just gonna skip the courtroom altogether next time around and book it to a non-extradition country, even if that means leaving our possessions behind and the people we know. Most of the major countries do extradition, so it’d more than likely be a small country.

I got some excellent prairie dog pics the other day. I managed to get just a couple of feet away from one of them that was munching on the popcorn I gave it. The pictures were so close and so clear you could see its whiskers. They’re getting so brave, too. Now they come running up to me when I go out there. They’re braver than the Rat Runner and Little Ratsy. Even the rabbits are braving up to me.

Yesterday was Mary’s birthday so I emailed her the prairie dog pictures and wished her a happy birthday. I think she’s 47 now.

I didn’t weigh myself today, but I was down from 126 to 123 pounds as of yesterday. Maybe this diet of having just under 1400 calories, which is a million times easier than trying to stick to 1000 calories, will make me lose a little weight after all. Not much, but maybe 5-10 pounds. I think that in order to get under 110-115, I would have to have around 1000 calories, but I’m not going to put myself out like that, like I said before, just to lose weight that’ll only come right back.

All week it’s been miserably hot. Sunny and clear, too. Tom said that since the end of the monsoon season brings cooler weather; that’s a sign saying there are more monsoons to come.

But when? It’s already mid-August.

I’m a bit nervous right now as I always am before seeing Scot. I just never know what to expect. I could go in there and be told I’m under arrest for killing someone in Japan for all I know, or he could mention the classes again. I asked Tom if he thought they just hadn’t gotten around to checking into the class bullshit and getting back to Scot, or if they deleted it, and he said he thinks they just don’t care and that they were just doing their job. Well, someone obviously cared enough to order it, but hopefully he’s right and the worst I’ll be in for tomorrow is the usual – him telling me how much time I have left or telling me that he wouldn’t even think of considering suggesting I try to get off probation early because I have a “victim” in my case. If he doesn’t test me tomorrow, then who knows when he will? That’s the least of my worries, though.

It figures that two days this week Tom was out during the first two hours of the day which he normally shows up right after he just did. Am I ever going to get my chance to say “no” to anything connected to these damn freeloaders? Of course not. I’m sure he’ll never again come by when Tom’s out, and I know he won’t come by when we’re both out. I just can’t believe he hasn’t woken me up since February!

Anything’s better than sitting in a jail cell with Melinda Brinkman, but I just think it’s sad that I have to see him so often. It’s so, so unnecessary, and of course, another reminder of the freeloaders and what they’ve put me through, not that I could forget if I wanted to. So rarely do I get the privilege of seeing him just twice a month. I saw him on the 2nd, then the 8th, and then tomorrow which will be the 16th. That’s once a week for 3 weeks! And all for what?

Last night I noticed a big truck with flashing red lights by the rental that I thought was an ambulance, but it sat still for several minutes, then it pulled into the street for a few more minutes, then backed up to the house, then a second later it pulled up a few feet, cut its lights, and just sat there. It’s still there, too. It looks like a fire truck, but I can’t say for sure. Tom said that emergency vehicles flash red and blue lights and not just red, so maybe it’s a tow truck of some kind. I don’t know, but it’s so ugly. I can’t wait till we don’t have to see them anymore, though that’s going to be such a long time from now.

So now they’ve got a red truck to add to the navy SUV and white van. It seems most of Maricopa owns at least 3 vehicles of some kind. I’d be willing to bet we’re the only ones with just one around here.

A few days ago my computer was completely unbootable. I had Tom give me a quieter power supply box that was fucked up and corrupted some programs I have. One of the fans was fucked up, too. See what I get when I try to fight noise? Anyway, he fixed it for me.

I’ve been making some posters. I decided my office was due for a change, but that’s not the only room I’m decorating. I’m also putting some in the bedroom. On the closet door, the retreat door and the bedroom door. I’m going to do a big one to put in the den and maybe even one for the utility area. I’m using my wallpaper pics for them. Things like waterfalls, dogs, cats and other scenic pics.

I decided I might not bother learning to paint a black slip by making a black doll in class. Regardless of whether or not I think they’re assholes, black is just not my favorite. I don’t like overly pale skin or overly dark skin. I like it somewhere in between. So, maybe I’ll see if I can do some of the dolls I’ve been wanting for a while now like Donna Rubert’s Chyna or Linda Mason’s Alexa. Or maybe I’ll do either sweet 16 Bailey or a small, green-eyed version of Jade. I saw a picture of Bailey at 16, and yup, it sure did look like an older version of my toddler Bailey.

The original plan was to order Jewel on the 1st, but I’ve changed my mind. See, I only wanted her cuz I thought her foot accents looked really cool, but instead, I made my own on the Fairy of Cork. I painted gold chrome bands around the tops of her feet, with lines extending downwards in front. Then I glued 3 small mint green heart-shaped jewels on the tops of her feet, close to where her leg starts. It looks way cool.

Now I can save up enough change to get that Amelia doll that’s really grown on me. I won’t be ordering her in September, though. Hopefully October, but whenever I can is when I will.

I don’t know if they’ll be open after Scot gets done running its mouth about the same old shit, but we’re going to stop at the PO here in town and see if we can open a box there. We’re curious to see how the mail service is there. Especially when it comes to receiving dolls! And I highly doubt Amelia will be out of stock.

MONDAY, AUGUST 12, 2002
Oh, I am so incredibly sick of Paula’s rudeness and not doing what she says she’ll do! I ask her a simple little thing like to call and leave a message if no one answers as soon as she gets the package to let me know what she thinks and if everything got to her in one piece, and instead, I learn from Justin that it came. But that’s all he said. Not one thank you, not one comment about it – nothing. How could asking her to call when she got it be such a hard thing to do and why is she so ungrateful? I didn’t have to spend the time and money on her that I did. I just thought the stuff would do better with her than sitting in the closet here. But do I get even the slightest bit of appreciation for it? No, of course not. I can’t even get a lousy little phone call! I’m so done with this self-centered girl who’s got nothing better to do than bitch about her man problems and lie about mail she’s sent. As soon as I can get ahold of her to settle my own curiosity as to whether or not anything broke along the way, we’re done. We’re so done. No more calls, no more letters. I’ll respond to emails and I’ll answer the phone if she happens to call when I’m up and not busy, but that’s about it. I’m not writing her and I’m not calling her other than to find out about the package. Enough of this one-way friendship!

Later…

Just got a hold of Paula. I woke her up since it was only 6:15 there, but I figured I probably wouldn’t get a hold of her so easily once she was awake. By then she’ll be fighting with her men. Although I know better, she says she’ll call later. Meanwhile, she got the package and nothing broke, so that’s good, even if I didn’t get a “thanks” from her either.

Now she’s free to go to jail.

SUNDAY, AUGUST 11, 2002
Since today’s the first day in a while that I don’t have anything of Mary’s to type, I think I’ll spend most of the day fine-tuning the ’94 file which is the one I’m currently working on.

Tom put a quieter power supply box in my computer and refilled my ink cartridges.

Damn those mother-fucking freeloaders! Aaaarrrrrgggghhhh!!! I want to take a nap now, but they won’t let me. They own me, after all, even on the weekends. Because of them, I need to keep my schedule on days so we can report early when it’s cooler. If I crashed at 2 PM, I’d be up between 6-8 PM, then wouldn’t go to bed again till tomorrow morning, the time I want to be getting up.

Well, maybe someday my life will belong to me and every damn thing I do won’t revolve around the black bitch in some way. Then again, God will just appoint me a new tormentor.

SATURDAY, AUGUST 10, 2002
So many of today’s singers sound the same. Whatever happened to individuality and originality? You know, singers like Stevie Nicks and Cyndi Lauper? Ok, so Stevie couldn’t sing all that well and Cyndi could be obnoxious, but at least they were unique. I like different, but most of the world doesn’t. You know how it is with most people; we all gotta dress the same, act the same, do the same things, etc.

I wish they’d make ACs that really are temperature sensitive instead of just claiming that they are, but the damn thing doesn’t come on more often the hotter it gets or come on less often the cooler it gets.

Well, I still don’t feel the need to have sex with anyone. Meaning, I don’t feel anything either way. I’m rather indifferent to the idea, but if an opportunity presents itself that interests me, I might go for it. I’m not gonna necessarily stay celibate all my life simply cuz he doesn’t have any desires. That wouldn’t be fair to me any more than it’d be fair of me to insist he never watch another basketball game again because basketball doesn’t interest me, too. I don’t see it ever happening, but if I ever met a woman I was attracted and it was mutual – well – if I could just get her to come to the house, then who knows? I’ll leave it to fate as far as who, if anyone, I ever have sex with again. If he suddenly grew interested and hit me for sex, then I’d feel obligated to give it to him whether or not I wanted to because that’d be my duty, so to speak, as his wife, wouldn’t it? If not, then I guess we’re both free to do whatever we want. Whether or not we ever got it on again with each other, though it seems we’ve settled into being more like loving friends, I would prefer not to meet anyone new cuz meeting new people usually means it was done under some pretty uncool circumstances. Something bad would have to happen for me to meet someone I was attracted to, regardless of whether or not Tom and I are platonic, and it hardly seems worth the 20-second orgasm.

It’s still so weird, though, even to this day, just how screwy our past sex lives were for the most part. What’s even weirder is how he’d react to my being turned off. You’d think that that’d make a man a bit more self-conscious and eager to change to both please the woman and to prove themselves a man like they love to do, but not Tom. Instead, he seemed rather amused by it all. It’s like he got a kick out of seeing me feel like a fool, or when I’d be embarrassed for him, or just totally turned off. This is partly why I think some of it was intentional. It was like my displeasure was his pleasure.

In case I didn’t mention it before, I went out by where the trailer was and beat the sticks into the ground that were used as grave markers. I decided to just throw the not-so-special animals into the brush when they die. The wildlife will gobble them up in no time. As for the special ones, they get buried closer to the house, though there’s no saying that the wildlife won’t dig through to them.

Though it’s been quiet today, we’re pretty sure the cause of the computer squeaking came from the power supply box, so Tom’s going to replace it sometime.

I may put off dying my hair for a year or two when I go to trim it cuz it’s really fried my hair. Dye and perms are the worst things you can do to your hair.

Got my weekly photo album statistics and now one of the rat albums is in the lead.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 9, 2002
In a week or two we’ll be closing out our Tempe PO box and opening one in Maricopa. Should I bother giving it to Paula in case she decides to ever write for real? Well, it’ll be on the return so she’ll have it anyway.

Both the prairie dogs and the rabbits lay down nestled up against the water bowl at times. It’s so cute. I got some more pictures, including a couple with the prairie dogs climbing the little tree out front, and I updated my wildlife album. I also sent Mary the link to that album so she can see the new additions. I printed a picture sheet out for the other Mary, too.

Tom said that the car by the shacks is an old junker that nobody drives and that it’s been there for a week.

I don’t know why, but today I was pleasantly surprised to see that they had a whole page full of new wallpaper thumbnails. I got a few new ones. I usually get some every day between Webshots and the community Webshots sites.

With my piggy bank money on 9/1, I had planned to get Jewel, the last of 3 dolls in one of the fairy series I don’t yet have (unless Tom wanted it for something for him like socks, shorts, etc.), but I only have a little over $12. If these discount coupons are any good, then I need at least $17. So, if Tom doesn’t want the money, I’ll get her as soon as I save up $6 more. I’m definitely going to wait till we take classes to decide where and when to get the two vinyls I want. I’m also going to wait till we have a truck before I go getting the palm tree for the corner in the dining area.

With my birthday and Christmas money, the things I want most, unless I see something better, will easily fit into the amount I’ll be getting, and that’s the tree, the two vinyls and Amelia. Amelia’s really grown on me. She’s not usually what I go for, either, cuz she’s a blond, blue-eyed Victorian. I hate most Victorian dresses cuz they’re so frilly, but this one’s not too bad. It’s light pink with lace and rosebuds. She wears a nice pendant and has an awesome face. Her eyes are pretty realistic looking. A lot like Bailey’s. She also has yellow-blond hair, which is something I don’t really have. Most of my blondes are dark blondes. Wheat blondes, you could say. She’s 22” and is normally $40 and is by Donna Rubert. She comes with a working parasol, too.

Maybe I’ll be able to squeeze a rat mug and a mouse pad in there, too. Of course, I also wouldn’t mind an electric razor, and I really wouldn’t mind a coffee grinder.

We’re now pretty sure that the leak in my shower is in the wall. When we first got the house, the sink in the second bath leaked as well as an area underneath the house that the lazy Mexicans just couldn’t take the time to tighten all the way. Well, we’re thinking this is the same case that slowly loosened up over time. Fortunately, though, these wallboards are easy to remove. Tom offered to call Palm Harbor since the house is under warranty, but we agreed that if we deal with it, it’ll get done right. I don’t want some illiterate Mexican out here that doesn’t even know its own language let alone English, making things worse and wasting our time.

Again, I am so sick of this leak curse and I am so sick of us always having to deal with other people’s incompetence!!! Why are so many people so damn stupid???

THURSDAY, AUGUST 8, 2002
I keep forgetting to mention that the PR cock Paula’s dealing with is so damn jealous and paranoid that he asked Paula if she was getting it on with Tom. I was like, yeah, right! All the way across the country she’s getting it on with my asexual husband! Hasn’t she told him that Tom’s white, not her cup of tea anyway?

She and I were talking about whether or not God favors man over a woman. Well, it’s rather obvious that he does. Look what we women go through with periods and what some go through carrying/delivering kids, not to mention the abuse most of us take from men. They say this has to do with Eve disobeying him. But what’s that got to do with us women now centuries later? See, if this story’s true, it goes to prove that God really would make a person pay for another’s sins, like Tom and I.

Tom fixed the squeak in my computer by tightening up screws, so now there’ll be a new problem any sec.

I love this Webshots site. I still have their software so I can download and export pictures, but I use a different wallpaper program. They have two new pictures a day. I wish it were more like 20 or 30, but at least they’re getting new ones regularly. All the other wallpaper sites hardly ever update their pictures.

I decided that so I could keep things in better order, I’d divide Mary’s stuff into 3 files. One for her clips from her preteen years, one for her teen years, and one for her adult years.

It’s amazing how we lived together in a tiny room for 9 days, barely knowing a thing about each other. Now, though, we haven’t seen each other in over a year yet we know each other rather well.

Here’s what I’ve learned about her through her book and letters: She’s a very sweet, compassionate person, yet she’s naïve and too trusting. Not so shocking, though, seeing that she’s only 24. I don’t think she’s attracted to abusive men in the way Paula and Tammy are, but she’s definitely cursed. Her parents were even worse than mine were, in a sense, and as you know, mine were quite terrible. Her father became your typical deadbeat dad and her mother abused her and her only sibling, Adam, 4 years older, verbally, physically and emotionally. The two were eventually sent away to boarding schools that I’m sure weren’t much better than Valleyhead. Then Mary’s had one abusive relationship after another with her mental and intellectual growth stunted by motherhood at just 15 years of age.

I can see where Mary’s being too nice, so to speak, as well as too trusting has gotten her in trouble. An example of that is that she handed her baby to an old lady to hold while she folded up the stroller to put in a waiting taxicab. Well, anyone with sense knows and would agree that even if it’s a frail, seemingly harmless old lady, you do not give your baby to a stranger.

Mary seems to be a very honest, non-contradicting person who keeps her word, yet she obviously has a poor sense of judgment at times. How she could have left her daughter home while she was at work to be killed by a man who had proven time and time again to be abusive towards her and her daughter, is totally beyond me. Even more beyond me is how she could’ve run off with him from Florida to Seattle after he killed her. She had already run with him from Arizona to Florida after he abused her son James, who was adopted, along with another son of hers named Andrew.

Other than leaving her daughter in the hands of a monster, Mary seems to have been very in tune with her daughter’s needs and a very loving mother. She also seems rather intelligent for her age, despite her hardships and becoming a mom so young.

Mary and Adam bonded in their 20s after all they’d been through. Except for their aunt Carolyn, it seems the whole family was crazy. Her firstborn, Murphy, lives with her aunt in Arizona. Mary has a boyfriend, Todd, whom she has told me is the opposite of her past boyfriends and her ex-husband Justin. He is said to be a very caring, supportive young man.

To my knowledge, Mary has never been sexually abused. At least not in the form of rape or molestation.

I will say that Mary has up and removed herself and her daughter Gretchen from abusive men a few times, but sadly, she’d always go back till one day it was too late.

She’s both a good and a not-so-good writer. She’s certainly better than I was at her age with her vocabulary and her descriptions, but she’s a little too descriptive. She spends an awful lot of time telling one quick event with lots of detail.

I restructure or reword sentences if I think they’ll sound better. I also correct any grammatical mistakes. Her punctuation is the worst. She never uses it. Occasionally she uses question marks, but all she uses for periods are commas. She never uses caps or paragraphs and she never uses quotes when people are speaking, either.

She also uses names too often and breaks people’s conversations up too much with descriptive stuff. Other than that, she’s doing alright and will improve with time.

She’s writing the story first-person, saying that she felt it was too impersonal to use an anonymous narrator. Yeah, I agree. I mean, I think first-person is especially better when it’s a true story cuz it’s more like a journal, only you’re telling the story after the fact rather than as it unfolds.

Unless she’s making it up to make the book sound better, I’m amazed at how detailed her memory is pertaining to events from her preteen years.

Later…

Tom brought home a manila envelope with a letter sheet, plus 49 pages of drafts. Guess I’ll go get working on that now.

Another few hours and my life belongs to me for a good 72 hours. It’s all mine! Mine and Tom’s.

Later…

Scot came at 1:10, and as usual, he was in and out like a flash like I wish I could be when I see him on his turf. I spotted his SUV, which fortunately, comes from a direction I can see from my office window without having to be right up to it as I would if he came the way he leaves. I ran out front before he could knock and wake up Tom, who’d gone to bed an hour before.

I feel a lot more relaxed after he leaves from a home visit, cuz then I know I can count on him not bugging me here at least for a while. So we went 6 weeks and 3 days between visits time around. Maybe next time it’ll be 6 weeks and 6 days! He skipped June, but I doubt he’ll skip September cuz he came so early in the month. It’s only the 8th, but when he came in May it was the 24th. He’d have to not come by for at least 7½ weeks in order to skip September. If his visits really ever do start slowing down to where there are usually 8 or more weeks between visits, it probably won’t be till after I get down to one year left of this shit. I don’t know, though. Arizona is such a serious state. He may play this up right on to the end. He’s gonna play up the seeing him twice a month part of it, but I know that for the most part, he’s just a PO. He doesn’t have much control, power or authority when it comes to the laws. He’s just doing what he’s told to do whether he wants to or not and regardless of whether or not he thinks it’s necessary. As Tom says, it’s a matter of his having a quota he has to meet, as well as if there’s someone new in the area on probation, making it convenient to stop here. I don’t see how there can be that many people in the area, though, whether or not they’re on probation. Remember, this isn’t the city!

He’s a bit rude, though, and not very bright when I think about it. I know Tom’s a heavy sleeper who can easily fall back asleep and that he isn’t leaving tonight till midnight, but he knew I was standing out there to keep him from waking up. Yet as soon as we stepped inside his walkie-talkie squawked really loud before he turned it down. Couldn’t he have turned it down before he got inside?

When I went out front to pick up a couple of aluminum cans the slobs of Maricopa let blow in, I noticed a car parked in front of the shack that I couldn’t see from the house. I’ve seen them move stuff in and out of the shacks a couple of times, but this was just sitting there. To my knowledge, all they use the shacks for is storage, so maybe they’re storing this old car there, too. I mean, why not? They have an old ugly trailer on the other corner. The front of their property is definitely neater and nicer looking than the back. I want to landscape the side they’re on, but not as much as I want to in back and in front. Especially when there’s a house in front.

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 7, 2002
This is the driest, sunniest and hottest day we’ve had in a while. There’s been very little prairie dog activity cuz of the intense heat. They won’t come out till late afternoon.

I stuck a little fanlike thing in the ground. Last Christmas we got this gold aluminum candleholder with a fan with angels attached to it that strike these little bells when the heat of the flames rotates the candles. I took the angels and bells off and stuck the fan part out to watch it move in the wind. It looks pretty with the light reflecting off of it.

Got a 9-page draft from Mary with a quick note. Nothing’s going on. I’m now all caught up on her stuff and she’s now all caught up on my jailhouse story. Well, she will be as soon as she gets the mail I’ve got ready to go out to her.

Miss Didn’t You Get My Mail? should be getting my package in about a week if all goes well.

I had a memory from one of the summers we spent at the beach. I couldn’t have been more than 10. Tammy and I were at a nearby rental sitting out in the living room while this woman was in one of the bedrooms screaming at this little boy who I swear she was beating the shit out of. Her name was Gail and his name was Benjamin, I think. Anyway, this was back in a time and at a place where no one dared get involved. You simply kept your mouth shut and hoped for the best.

TUESDAY, AUGUST 6, 2002
It was exactly 6 weeks ago as of yesterday that Scot was last here. This is the first time since January that he’s gone over 6 weeks, even if it’s just a day over it so far, in between visits.

Yesterday I told Tom not to put my mail on the island if he comes home when I’m to be getting up between prime freeloader time. That way, jail mail wouldn’t be sitting right there if I happen to be just waking up when he knocks, and am coming out of the bedroom for the first time that day.

Then I thought about it and said to myself, fuck that shit! The freeloaders have controlled where I lived, what I wore, what I ate, and what some of our money was spent on, so now I’m supposed to let them control where my mail is placed? I don’t think so!

In other news, I finally got to take pictures of a rattlesnake! Yeah, I was in my office yesterday when I spotted it coming toward the house. Tom got to see it, too. Unlike the others who would run at the sight of me or the sound of doors closing, this one was pretty brave. I snapped a picture of it moving towards me alongside the house, and then, due to how dangerous these snakes can be, we ran into the house as it settled underneath the front stairs. Tom then opened one of the living room windows and popped the screen out so I could shoot pictures from there, but the only good one I got from there was of its head sticking out. I sent the two good shots I got in all to both Marys, one being by email, the other by regular mail, of course.

It was really weird how the prairie dogs came within a few feet of where it sat and neither one acted like they knew the other was even there. Perhaps that’s because the snake had just eaten. It sure was a fat one.

Mary sent me two more envelopes with quick letters and drafts. I can’t believe how much this girl is writing! She told me to tell her if she’s overwhelming me, but right now I’ve got the time. The only thing being neglected is the fine-tuning of my journals, but that’s okay. There’s no hurry or deadline on that one. I’m sure she’ll have her dry spurts again as soon as she’s got something going on. Right now there’s nothing going on, as she says. I take it she’s getting along with Hope cuz she hasn’t said anything.

Oh, Teddy Bear, how I wish you’d return to Estrella! If I stand the slightest chance, even if it’s one in a million, in getting an answer to why she ditched me, Mary’s my only hope. If she could just get back there before Mary leaves! I know this will never happen, though.

I still think of her every day and at this rate, I think I always will. I imagine scenes with her, like how it might’ve been both in and out of bed if we had been meant to be. I wonder things about her, like what is her name, etc.?

It isn’t doing it right now, but my hard drive (at least I think it’s the hard drive, though it could be a fan) has been making this God-awful screech that Tom says he can’t hear. When I asked how the hell he couldn’t hear it, he said it was cuz of the loud machines he worked around for so many years. It’s a wonder I’m not deaf myself after all the years of blaring music, but if it hasn’t hurt my hearing yet, it probably never will. Not as long as God wants me to hear things I don’t want to hear, though it’s been the quietest it’s ever been since we moved here. Since I’ve had the privilege of living here, I should say. Anyway, he’s going to take care of it later when he gets up. I swear, there’s always something. If it isn’t one thing, it’s another.

In order to keep my bangs, now to the tip of my nose, out of my face, I twist them, making dreadlocks, and clip them back with butterfly clips while my hair’s wet. Then it dries up and stays that way even without clips.

SUNDAY, AUGUST 4, 2002
Weekends go too fast when you don’t have freeloaders just a few feet away from you. I wanted to sleep later than 9 PM so I could be up from 10 AM - 2:30 PM, prime freeloader time, but maybe I will be anyway. That’s what makes the house calls rather stressful. I just don’t know when to expect them. If someone told me he’d be stopping by Wednesday or Thursday, then I could relax and breathe a bit easier, knowing for sure I’d be up during those hours those days. See? God knows neighbors aren’t a potential sleep disruption anymore, so what does he do now that I’ve moved away from them? He brings the potential sleep disruption out here to me. If it isn’t in one form, it’s another. And if I’m ever off probation, the sonic booms will start up again. Or maybe someone will set up house in front and play the drums or an electric guitar with the doors and windows open all the time. There’s always got to be something threatening my sleep.

I’m not bothering with the hassles of encrypting journals anymore. Know why? Cuz I just don’t give a fuck anymore. If you don’t like something I may have to say about something or someone, then don’t read my journals. And don’t complain about it if you do. That’s all I’ve got to say on the matter.

Paula finally told me that it wasn’t that her license was suspended, but that she never even had a license to begin with. When I asked her why she said she just never got around to getting it.

Whenever she mentions coming out here I discourage her. She simply has no idea just how controlling a state Arizona is. The things they’re slapping her on the wrist for there would land her in prison out here. Prison, that is, not jail. Sicko Nancy K got a few years in prison for pig-slugging. Her Section 8 wouldn’t save her out here. They wouldn’t give a shit. Especially with her being white.

I figured out the shower leak. It’s not coming from inside the wall and he doesn’t have to bother tearing up the wall. It’s definitely coming from the base somewhere. When the water’s beating straight down into the shower stall, it doesn’t leak at all. But as soon as I aim it towards the doors, a leak appears at the front right corner. So the water’s seeping under the tracks and down out through that corner somehow.

Getting receipts to protect ourselves is a good thing, but as I asked Tom, what about Scot? Shouldn’t we be getting statements from him saying I haven’t missed any reports and that all my drug tests have been clean? If he woke up one day and decided to hate me, he could rip up the form I fill out upon reporting and say I skipped. And there’d be nothing I could do to prove him a liar, either.

Tom suggested we don’t do that cuz that’s saying we don’t trust him which could cause problems when I report.

Oh, yeah, that’s right. I forgot about that. Arizonans and their fragile little feelings. Why is everyone so damn caught up in what others may think of them? You wouldn’t think he’d give a rat’s ass what I thought about him or if I trusted him. How could it affect his life one way or another? I mean, why should Scot B give a damn whether or not Jodi S trusts him?

But Scot B does care. He cares deeply. Maybe he wouldn’t if he were in New England, but this isn’t New England. This is the southwest and my opinion of him matters greatly. It might not matter to him if I thought the world of him, but it sure as shit would matter if I thought anything negative concerning him. Sensitives are usually paranoid, too. He’s the type that would take most anything personally, so that means he’d also be the type to get the wrong idea about people easily. Let’s hope not in my case, cuz the only one that would end up suffering from any misunderstandings he may have is me, of course.

I still say I just might surprise myself someday and fight back against anyone that ever fucks me over the way I’ve been fucked over, and I just might get away with it, too. Especially since they’d deserve whatever I gave him. God can’t protect my perpetrators forever, can he? Would he?

Sure he could and sure he would and I should come back to earth, I know. I’m not fighting back next time. Why? Cuz every time I’ve ever tried to fight back against someone wronging me, it’s only made things worse. I’m not going to jail again, so no, I won’t fight back. I’ll just hope that whatever it is that’s being done to me isn’t too bad and that it ends soon enough. No, it’s not okay for Jodi S to fight back. It’s only ok for her to get screwed over and for her perpetrators to get away with it. Even so, I do not intend to be this bitch’s victim all my life! Someday my life will not revolve around her like it does most of the time now and has been since one very ill-fated day in March of ’96.

On the brighter side, I’m stunned to have learned that I can eat all I want, yet remain at the 124 pounds my body’s been obsessed with weighing since I quit smoking. All this time I thought that going over 1600 calories a day would cause me to continually gain weight till I maxed out at – 150 pounds, 200 pounds – who knows how much? Yet 124, the weight my body’s been most comfortable at for the last 5 years, is my max. I’ve been having 2000-2500 calories day after day after day and my weight never changes. I know a part of it is the exercise. Like I said before, you can’t usually lose weight through exercise, but you can maintain your weight with it. However, if I were suddenly having this many calories at 115 pounds, I would gain weight till I settled back in at the 124 pounds my body’s used to weighing. I could probably lose weight on as low as 1400 calories a day, but I’m not going to bother cuz I know how hard it’d be to keep the weight down. Just a few days of eating would put me back up to where I am. I’d have to keep my calories cut all the time, and yes, just one day a week off would hurt me. It’d undo all, if not most, of my hard work. So, rather than let myself go hungry, I think I can live with being 24 pounds overweight, or at least 14, in most people’s opinions. Especially when you consider the fact that most adults are 40-50 pounds overweight.

I know the working out has caused me to be smaller than I’d normally be at this weight.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 2, 2002
This morning was no fun. No, it was rather stressful. The original plan was to sleep from around 6 AM - 6 PM, then go see Scot, but come 7:00, I was still awake. Even after taking a Benadryl. That was when Tom got in with the groceries and we decided to get Scot out of the way before we both crashed and arrived at his place at 8:00.

I know it’s only words, but I am so sick and tired of hearing the same old shit from Scot. Every single time I see him he just has to comment on how much time I have left, and I’m thinking, dude, I don’t need any reminders!

Having a little over a year to go is better than 3 years, but the 15 months I have left is depressing enough to have to be reminded of and think about.

Then he goes and says, “I can’t even think of suggesting you petition for early release from probation because you have a victim in your case,” and I want to strangle him for referring to that sick black bitch as a victim! And why did he even have to bring this up in the first place when we already discussed and agreed a few months ago that I wasn’t going to bother to try to fight a losing battle by petitioning? Can’t I ever go in there and just get a “Hi, how you doing? Any changes? Ok, then, I’ll see you back here in two weeks.” After all, this is all I get when he comes to the house, so why not on his turf? I’m beginning to wonder if he gets off on the time reminders and by referring to “victims” who aren’t even victims. He’s got to know it bothers me. I mean, I’ve told him this, but no, he’s gotta go and have his say anyway.

And of course Tom just has to stick up for him, in a sense, by playing it down, saying he’s only trying to encourage me and I’m like, encourage me? How is this encouraging? It’s depressing to be reminded of how much longer I have to play this game and it’s infuriating to hear the black bitch called a victim.

I thought I was going to be tested today so I went with a full bladder. “I’ll speed up,” Tom said on the way back and I was like, “No! This is Arizona, you fool. I’d rather wet my pants than have you do 20 years for speeding. Wait till we hit the dirt roads.”

Oh, what those freeloaders do to me! The numerous ways they control me and my life from such a distance and the stress they put me through are un-fucking-believable. It really is.

On the way back, the neighbor waved to us. The grandmother. I only saw her for a second and wouldn’t have known who it was if Tom hadn’t said so. I wonder if she recognized Tom or if she just waved anyway like most people out here do.

I don’t know what’s worse – the home visits or going to him. The home visits are quicker, but I can’t plan my schedule around them like I can with the outside visits.

And another thing is that once again, there’s just one more thing we gotta do for the freeloaders. Always one more thing. Now he’s suggesting we go to the clerk’s office and get a receipt of what we’ve paid and what we still have to pay so they don’t try to say we owe more money than we do at the end. I agree that we should do whatever we can to protect ourselves, but I still worry about the end. If this bitch gets mugged and she doesn’t know who really did it, I’m afraid I’m gonna get blamed. I worry they’re going to try to either prolong the probation or charge me with something new. I still wouldn’t count on never hearing about the classes again, either. This system just cannot be trusted. It simply can’t be trusted. Tom can go and do this after work sometime by himself, then I wonder – what’s next? What else do we gotta do for these freeloaders?

Anyway, I told Tom to take all the freeloader receipts to the clerk. That way, if they try to pull a last-minute, half-assed attempt at trying to sucker more money out of us and say we owe a payment or two that we don’t, he can show them they’re full of shit. And I don’t think a lot of the “mistakes” are really mistakes like Scot says. I think that just like any other business in the world, they want to make an extra buck, and if they have to do some of it illegally or in a dishonest way – why not? I’m sure there are some people who could be easily suckered into believing they owe more money than they really do.

I’m so fucking sick of this world! And I’m even sicker of this ‘Minorities Rule’ trip we’re on. That is any minority that excludes Jews and gays, of course. So much so that if I could be a black at the snap of my fingers I would. Not only would it hide the zits and varicose veins better, but then I could just cry racism every time someone pissed me off and use the courts to fuck them over, but then again, I don’t know if I could be that vindictive and immature. I think I’d rather ignore them. I’m dead serious about this too, and I have to wonder, is there any place on earth where the laws aren’t so damn extreme? Here, the laws are so old-fashioned what with the way they give such outrageous sentences for the dumbest things, while at the same time, the laws favor and protect certain groups of people. Next thing we know, T-shirts saying things like, “If I’m black, kiss my ass” are going to be everywhere.

Tom was right when he said we have more than what’s been taken from us, but on mornings like today, it doesn’t always feel like that’s the case.

Well, the freeloaders may own some of our income, some of our time, some of our lives, but one thing’s for damn sure and that’s that they don’t have our weekends! Weekends belong to us! We don’t have to do shit for the freeloaders on weekends.

In this day and age, I don’t want to screw anyone over, don’t want to seek revenge, don’t want to control anyone – I just want others to stop controlling me! I expect others to treat me as I treat them, so if I’m going to leave them alone and ignore them, I want the same treatment in return.

Tom suggested I basically have an attitude saying, “I’m looking forward to moving on and putting this behind me,” when it comes to Scot.

I already tried that before with him and others, yet look where I am today. Still unable to get on with my life and put these freeloaders in the past where they belong. Every time I think we’ve shaken ourselves free of them, they’re there again.

See, I know probation’s more about money and control than anything else, though it’s supposed to be to see if you’re going to re-offend. For example, say I was truly guilty of “stalking” this bitch; do they really need a whole 2½ years to see if I’m gonna do it again? And why put Mary on probation when she’s released? Do they really need to see if she’ll once again neglect an already-dead baby?

Despite how fucked up people are and how mistrusting of others I am, I’m glad I didn’t walk away from Mary. I don’t know if we’ll be in each other’s lives forever, but for now, she’s a good friend and pen pal. She doesn’t just ramble on and on about her problems with guys or whatever. She also wants to know what’s going on with me. Our friendship is two-sided. I sometimes wish we were closer in age, but that’s ok. I was once 24 and someday Mary’s going to be 36.

In other news, it rained this evening harder than it has in a year, sending a 2” wide puddle by the bottom of the front door that’s not even 3 years old. It didn’t last long, though.

I wish I still had my Charlie’s Angels dolls, but not to add to my collection. I don’t think they even looked like them. However, they’d be worth a fortune by now.

Tom and I were talking about moving every 5 years to different places for variety’s sake. 5 years really is a long time to stay put when you think about it. We were at the Phoenix house for 6 years and it really did feel like quite a while, despite the shitty living conditions. Especially after I’ve had 4 apartments in Massachusetts, 1 in Connecticut, and 4 out here.

He suggested the possibility of Seattle or someplace where it’s cooler and it rains all the time. Well, rain, cold and snow would keep people in their houses more often, but with a leak curse on us, I don’t know if it’d be wise to go where it rains a lot. For every pro I can think of when it comes to moving to a particular place, I can come up with a con, too. Moving’s a bitch and I don’t know if Tom could necessarily find work just anywhere, but it is a fun idea. The more I think about it, the more I like it. Maybe we’ll have less trouble if we’re not in one place longer than 5 years, though it didn’t take 5 years of living in the Phoenix house for the shit to hit the fan.

But just where would we go? Certainly not to a city. In order to go where there are fewer off-brands, we’d have to head more toward the Midwest where it’s colder. In order to go to a more comfortable climate that’s stable year-round, we’d have to go where there were too many people (of all kinds.) Warmer climates have bigger bugs, yet colder places tend to have mostly old houses. We wouldn’t need bottled water in New England, but the weather there sucks. So whether or not we go to a cold climate, a rainy one, or a warm one, they’ll all have their pros and cons. One thing’s for sure, though, and that’s that if we ever did move to New England or a similar climate, I’ll never have to be alone and I’ll never have to play bus!

Let’s see, we’re overrun with Mexicans here, Cubans in Florida, and Puerto Ricans in the northeast. There are fewer blacks in Arizona than in Massachusetts, but still too many for comfort.

In New England, the laws are more reasonable, they don’t bash Jews and gays as much, and everyone doesn’t want to be on stage like they do here. They’re not as sensitive to criticism. On the other hand, with the exception of Steve, most of the finest people I’ve met have been out here, even if some of them were only in my life for a brief time.

So, no matter where we go there’s always gonna be problems as well as good things about the place. Now it’s just a question of, well, do we want to move just to be moving for the fun of it till and if we ever do settle on a boat?

THURSDAY, AUGUST 1, 2002
It ended up costing $30 to ship Paula’s package. Yeah, that’s all I’m doing for her for quite a while. I’ll do emails and monthly letters, but that’s about it. She should get the package in two weeks. I mean, it’s nice to know I’m doing this for someone who hasn’t got shit and probably never will, but what does she do for me in return? Not much. She bitches about the losers in her life, then lies about sending me mail. I’m not saying she should send packages herself, but a letter every now and then would be nice and more of a two-sided phone conversation would be nice, too.

Got 3 more letters from Mary, but since the envelopes weren’t numbered this time around, I don’t know if I’ll be typing the drafts that came in proper order. That’s okay, though, cuz I figure order’s not all that important right now. Right now we’re just gonna get the thing typed up. Then, once she feels she has enough, someone else can organize it. It’ll be a while, though, like I said, since we’re talking about 80-some-odd pages. As soon as I have enough to fill an envelope, I’ll get it off to her with another pic sheet. This time around, I just sent a letter, a pic sheet, and more parts of my book. She now has everything up to March.

I saw a documentary on prisons in India. Lately, they believe in “loving” their inmates, so to speak, as a way of rehabilitating them. Meaning, the guards hug them when they break down in tears. If only they had such a policy at Estrella when I was there! I’d have made damn sure I had something to weep about every time Palma and the bear worked! I told Mary about this, who no doubt got a kick out of it.

Mary says she’s really enjoying writing her book and is over a virus she had. She can’t wait to dye her hair fuchsia, which is now down to her waist. She’s growing her bangs out too, she says, which are now past her chin. Mine is still only just past my nose.

As I told her, I bitch about how much God’s cursed me, but trust me, he has blessed me as well. I’ll admit to that. He cursed me with the people I had for parents, yet he blessed me with the person who’s my husband. He cursed me with Nancy and blessed me with her! I don’t know which was worse, Nancy or Melinda. Meanwhile, she and Rosa were definitely the best, with Misha and Marilyn as their runners-up. I would’ve liked being cellies with Nancy I, too. Regardless of what she may or may not have done, she was quiet and a good listener.

Anyway, I really admire her attitude.

Hope was charged with 4 F2s and 4 F4s. She was found guilty of 8 counts of child abuse, but it was a hung jury as to the attempted murder charge.

Oh, so we have a near-baby killer here, huh? How can she cell with someone like that – ugh! And of course, no mention of it in the papers, she says. Yeah, I believe it. I couldn’t find anything online either. Like I said, those of us who are white and who have supposedly gone and picked on those poor, poor freeloaders for no apparent reason are much more entertaining to read about. If we all were the same color or an innocent child was involved – well – that’d be a different story, wouldn’t it?

I couldn’t find anything new regarding Idiot, either, whom she says had a fugitive hearing. She said she doesn’t know what that is, but my guess is it’s about his running from his AZ charges from the sound of it.

She says Chambers became a real cop.

So, she decided to take her badge to the streets, huh?

Vasquez left for Towers jail, but Jones, LaBorde (LaVoice), and Hudgens are still there.

Tom and I were talking about her doing things to hopefully please the judge. When he asked why I suggested you not put too much hope in the judge, I told him, “You should know why. Cuz judges just don’t give a shit, more often than not. Remember, most of them are high on power and control. They’re just gonna look at the said crime, whether it’s real or imagined, and judge them by that. They don’t give a shit about rough backgrounds or current efforts the person is making. After all, didn’t we watch a perfect stranger sit in judgment of me and decide my fate for the next 3 years before he even laid eyes on me?”

But we both agree, though, that she should do whatever works for her and whatever she feels is best. But I would do it for her. It’s like with losing weight. One has to lose weight cuz they themselves truly want to. Not for some lover, their parents, or friends. Who knows? In the end, she just may get one of those rare judges with a touch of compassion!