Don't come the cowboy with me

She has to have either been following me around, or she has dated some of the same men as me.

Dear Roger:If My Prince Never Comes,So What? Im Not Settling

Well my writing project seems to be at a bit of a standstill. My muse has fled once again and I cant seem to find the mindset to get back into working on the smut piece that some folks had been nudging me into attempting. I guess I would be more inclined to work on it if I had some raw material to draw from, but its been so damn long since I have had a good trouncing, that I am beginning to forget what that feels like. I haven't even been kissed in so long that I probably would be all awkward and weird about it, like some school girl. My sis and Sus are convinced that I need a makeover, that my lack of the feminine graces is what is putting men off of me, and my son says that its because I look at men like I either want to ,'Eat them, kick their asses, or both" and that is why they scurry away like frightened mice before me.

I dont get where that I am soo scary? I am not a big person! I am quite the opposite, meaning I am short, skinny, pale, and I can get by with children's sized clothes,except in bras...nothing children sized going to work in that department because I do have a chest that men tend to notice first. I have blonde hair, blue eyes, most of my teeth, no facial piercings and I do smile on occasion. I dont growl at people, I try to be friendly, but I do keep my distance. I am literate,not prone to extravagances in either expenditures or liquor. I like some sports,mainly soccer and cage fighting and I have all kinds of skills that could come in handy in a rural situation, such as the ability to hunt down, shoot, skin and cook pretty much anything. I can work cattle and horses, rope, ride,castrate, vaccinate,dehorn, and even trim hooves. My accent only gets strong under stress or anger. I can cook over 6 different ethnic styles and everyone I have ever cooked for has survived and gained weight. I like kids, in fact I have a pack of them, and I have even taught! So what the hell? Why am I so unapproachable? I dont smell bad, I have basic manners and I can and do behave myself,most of the time. I have not picked a fight with a man in months or threatened to kick anyones ass in at least a few weeks, and my glares aren't intentional. But I cannot change who I am this late in the game for someone. I just cant do it. Sus and my sis would cram me into a dress do weird stuff to my hair and nails and put make up on my and expect me to wear heels and go out on some blind date with a church guy/business man with whom I have nothing in common, when all I really want is to find someone who sees me looking at them and has the courage of heart to smile back, walk up and say,"Hey,cool t-shirt! I like that band too, have you been to any shows lately, would you like to go?" Then it would be the start of something with potential.

Dear Roger: Getting the Glitches Worked Out,One Perversion At A Time

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Since I have been sitting here waiting for my knee and shoulder to quit yelling at me for the wreck I put them through, I thought I would spend my time wisely and actually work on learning some things or even writing, but alas, my damn muse fled the scene again, so I was relegated to playing around with the computer and teaching myself how to post links and images and better yet, animated images to web pages!! I have had soo much fun playing around with that, I cant even tell you,(yes, I am a bit of a pervert), but at least I have been entertained and not sitting here dwelling on my knee or shoulder or how broke we are.

I am soo damn glad that this month is almost over! With .52 cents in the account for over the last week, its been pretty fecking grim around here. We are out of bread,cheese, butter, cereal, peanut butter,and pretty much every other damn thing you could think of, and there is not a damn thing I can do about it until Tuesday. No word on a job yet, but I am still looking and the kids start back to school in just under a week so my time will be a lot more open for me to be able to find something without them tagging along. I have been able to keep the kids fed because I stocked up on staples, and I eat very little, in fact I have even skipped days, but I have to be careful about that because if Chance catches on, he gets really angry with me and then he starts trying to skip meals, so last night I cooked some frozen crappy steaks we had been given and I made sure he got a good bellyful of steak and potatoes. Tomorrow things will be looking up and we will walk down to the store for some basics to tide us over until we get to borrow Sus's car.

I am going to be dog sitting this next weekend for Sus while her and my kids go to camp for 4 days. Its some church based thing and I am not going for a few reasons, including crowds making me a bit nervous and all that fun stuff, but I will have money, a car and I will be child-free for the first time in a Looooooog time. I am considering a drive over to Vancouver to check out a few of the nightspots and to just perhaps chase some boys. We will see how things look once our lives get back to normal. Now that my ex cant hit out bank account and drain the funds, life should get a lot better!

I hope the little video I attempted to post works, just dont get too mesmerized, he tends to have that effect on folks.

Dear Roger; I Got Banged, But I Really Didn't Enjoy It

I am glad this weekend is almost over! Pretty sure that I have been cursed with a case of the clumsies, and if I was capable of going out anywhere today, I would be risking life and limb even further than I did yesterday.

We went with Sus and family down to Sweet Home as part of their church based stuff, and I should have gotten a clue what kind of day it was going to be when I realized that not only was it the same day as the Spencer Bell Legacy concert that was going to be live streaming, so I was going to miss most of it including the early 100 Monkey performances, but that my cell phone charger hadn't been plugged in all the way and my phone only had a couple of bars of juice, so if I could get the concert on my phone, it would probably kill it by mid-day. If that wasn't bad enough, then a delivery I was expecting to arrive on Sunday, was actually scheduled for yesterday as well and a bunch of juggling had to be done to get that handled, so it was hassle after hassle and we hadn't even left Gresham!

When Sus came and picked us up, I ended up sitting in the back seat of the Durango and we headed down through Clackamas. Normally a drive like that would not be a problem, but three things were wrong with that little venture, namely; Durango, back seat, Clackamas. The road from Gresham to Clackamas is a twisty, turning, hilly, driving adventure and in a Durango, which can be vomit inducing on a straightaway, its misery. By the time we reached the city limits I was an interesting shade of green and Sus was offering to pull over so I didn't barf in her truck. The boys that were with us were in almost as bad as shape as me, and we ended up having to put down all the windows and she had to slow down on the curves. It was rough!

Soo, we got to Clackamas, picked up a 10 passenger van with seats designed to kill asses, and foolishly letting the boys take the back section of the van, we headed out towards the 5.

During the trip, the boys graciously decided to entertain us with songs from pretty much any weird youtube video you could think of including "A Mysterious Ticking" to the point that I felt I had to retaliate with the Robot Chicken theme, earning the vitriol from all the adults in the van with us.

The trip down was not too bad and I got to see parts of Oregon I haven't seen before, and luckily, other than my sanity being a little impinged upon, I survived intact. We got to the church and I wandered off to look around the grounds, and I found copious amounts of blackberry bushes! Since I normally wear jeans, boots and longer sleeves, I was able to wade right in and pick the bigger, riper ones and pass them back to those who had worn shorts or lighter pants, including Sus and her dad. The boys were roughhousing and stealing berries from each other until they heard Sus's dad say ,"Its a good thing Jen wears boots and all that denim, she can really get up deep into the bush and get the good stuff." Silence fell for about 30 seconds and the implications of what was about to happen flickered across the faces of 3 teen boys,myself, and Sus. Her father is rather oblivious and had no idea the glorious double entendre that he had just given the boys and as I raised an eyebrow at him, (thus resulting in an explosion of hysterical laughter from the boys), he just looked at them and asked,"What? Did somebody get a worm?" I just came back out of the bushes and headed to the van trying not to die laughing each time I looked at her dad for the rest of the day.

We left the church and headed out to just do some touristy stuff and we ended up at a place called,'Green Peter" dam. I have to wonder, were the folks who named stuff up here in Oregon all British? There are more places with names that are giggle worthy up here than anyplace I have ever lived and have to be inspired by all kinds of perversity, you got Couch that is pronounced 'Cooch" and Green Peter? Wouldn't you know, "Green Peter" is where things started to go really wrong for me? We drove across the dam and on reaching the far side, the kids decided to shoot off along the trail, seeing a place to get close to the water, and being after adventure myself, and also being a bit of a worrying mom, I went after them even though I was wearing leather soled cowboy boots. I was doing good until Stevie started getting really close to a sharp drop off over some rocks, and then I was paying more attention to her and not where the hell I was walking, and I managed to step on a part of the embankment that was weak and it gave way, taking my goofy ass down hard, with no warning. I landed on my left elbow and butt cheek, on a rock and my shoulder promptly slipped right the hell out of socket,(it does that every now and then), and then the embankment kept crumbling so I had to dig my right heel in and throw myself back onto my side a little further up the hill and that jammed my left wrist. My sons friend who I call,'Sparky" saw the wreck happen and I could tell he wanted to laugh but he was also a little freaked out. I told him, make sure Stevie doesn't come down here, and you might wanna get back because I may puke when I put my shoulder back in,(I didn't), but it hurt like hell and made me say words that a good little church going boy shouldn't hear. Once it slipped back into place, I assessed the rest of the damage, and I realized that I was pretty wrenched feeling and I was scuffed up, dirty and embarrassed to death, but I was alive and not in the damn cold water, so it was actually a win. I hobbled back to the van, rounding up the kids as we went, and enduring the jokes and comments about the new hole in my favorite dark jeans and the scuffs all over my good boots, including my own sons smart ass comment that if I wasn't wearing boots I probably wouldn't have fallen, to whit I replied, 'No, I probably would a gone in the damn lake because I damn sure cant walk in anything else." I guess I cant walk in boots this weekend either though, because when we got back to town and went to drop off the van, I managed to fall, sideways!, down 5 steps at the front of the church, further twisting the crap outta my knee and wrenching my whole body, so I am feeling all kinds of pain in interesting places. An assessment when I got home revealed a really epic bruise on my butt, a knee that looks like someone took a ball bat to it, a bruised up elbow and shoulder and a left arm that I cannot raise past chest level, so pretty much all I did the rest of the evening was throw myself a pity party.

Did get a bit lucky when I got home, the concert was not totally over and I actually caught the 100 Monkeys last performance and HOLY HELL! It was a scorcher. Chance was sitting out here in the living room, kinda sorta listening to it, and watching from time to time while he talked to his friends online and got things for me. He only listens to me and my stuff with about half an ear most of the time, caught up in his own emo/angsty teen stuff, and he knows most of the song lyrics to the 100 Monkeys songs just because he has heard them soo much since he has been home, but when the song,'Strangers" started up, he turned and looked at me with his jaw just hanging open in shock. The fact that I probably had a similar expression was not lost on him, and when I burst out laughing, he blushed and muttered about the fact that ,"Most normal moms would be freaking out over that kinda song, my moms probably gonna make it her ringtone"(not true) but I did like the raw, directness of the song, and truthfully, it kinda stuck me a lot like seeing a puppy baring its teeth, cute...but you wanna still just roll em over and rub their tummies because you know they are all growl. The song that really got my attention of the night was 'Joygasm". That is the song that is supposed to be their ,made up on the spot, song of the night that the audience gives them the idea for. Young Mr. Rathbone really knows how to work the audience, and he didn't let them down with this song, but what amused me, was the fact the lyrics were kinda wide open for interpretation. I enjoy his showmanship,(the boy moves like water in a hot skillet), and hes brilliant, leaving not only the girls in the audience needing a cold shower, but the boys as well. It was a great show for a good cause, I wish I could have caught more of it, and perhaps next year I will be able to be there in person, unless of course I manage to break my neck falling over air or something.

Dear Roger: Defective Teen Sons,Soccer and Musical Theater

Its been a bit of a productive week around here. It finally cooled off a little so it is not constantly hotter than Satans scrotum around here and we are all a little less cranky, but we are still broke as hell and that has not made our moods much sweeter. Its frustrating to constantly have to tell my kids,"We cant afford it", especially if the it is something like a loaf of bread or a jar of freaking peanut butter! Yea, we have been that Goddamned broke this month! Leave it to me to forget that this is a very long month, and when I paid up all the bills at the beginning,I neglected to allow for the extra week, can you say suuuuck? On the bright side I always try to prepare for lean times and I had extra rice stashed away and staples, so I have been able to cook up some pretty creative meals that the kids have claimed were pretty good. Last night I made rice with some chicken and green beans, sauteed with some leftover squash and garlic. It was weird, but it was food.

We walked over to the kids new schools and got them registered this week, and while Stevies was really easy to take care of, with minimal decisions to be made, Chances was a whole 'nuther ball of wax. I swear I filled out more paperwork for him to go to high school than I filled out to go to grad school! There were 3 different forms wanting to know if we spoke English at home! I felt like answering ,'NO" after the 3rd one and putting in Gaelic just for the pure cussedness of it because of all the hassle. We met with a counselor and Chance was thrilled to find that he can still play football, though I lobbied most passionately for soccer. I just do not get the whole attraction of football, soccer is much more of a pure athletic event and requires you to be in much better condition and if you are an aggressive player,(like he used to be) then you can still work out your stress on the opposing team, but he would rather suit up with all the other meat heads and play football, bashing into each other for small gain. He claims he wouldn't have allowed me to come to any soccer matches of his anyway because I am,"such a soccer-nazi freak" that I would either pick fights or embarrass him by going postal on the sidelines. I just get into the game because I played it, and I played it well and I have a passion for it, and I miss playing it at the team level, so when those who do get to play it, just half-ass it, that makes me a little crazy. I expect a full measure of effort out of him when he goes out for something and I cheer him vigorously when he does, and I guess he finds that embarrassing.

He also decided to enroll in all honors classes as was his right with his levels, and I was proud to see that he didnt attempt to slack off. He also selected theater as an elective along with musical chorus.He has to audition before he gets an actual part chorus, but the boy is constantly singing so hopefully that will come of some good for him. His school has a swim team and a water polo team, and I asked him if he intended on participating in any of those sports and he gave me the most annoyed look," Mom, I have enough hair on my body for two full grown men! If I got into the pool, they would freak out." So I guess that means swim team is out. He is talking about letting his hair grow back out, though he still insists that he wants to get rid of his curls! How the hell he expects to do that on a permanent basis, I have no clue, but I have tried to convince him that women find curls to be irresistible, and he just rolls his eyes at me and says,"Im not into grandmas, I like girls my age and they dont like guys with curls! Im not a sheep, im a man, mom! Im not cuddly, I want to look cool, not like some old dork." Soo, I offered to just shear him bald so he could look like every other little wannabe rapper he seems to listen to now days, and he did not appreciate the offer.

My son has also been talking about ,"gauging" his ears, as in making his ear piercings into these huge holes that are just GROSS! and I swear by all that is Holy, I will end the fool that does that to my kid. Trying to get him to understand that for someone who claims to want to be an actor from time to time, that he really shouldn't put extraneous holes in his face, is like trying to convince him that skinny jeans are a fashion failure. At least right now I have on my side the fact that he is underage for all that kind of insanity and I can keep him from doing anymore damage than necessary. He has the same genetic quirk as me that makes him someone who scars really visibly, and it just would not be a good thing for him to put holes in his face. He goes all emo on me from time to time, proclaiming that he doesn't stand a chance as an actor anyway because he is a nobody from nowhere, with nothing, but I just try and encourage him to keep his heart on his dreams with his mind in the game that is getting the best education that he can get, with college and other options to support himself while he works towards his goals, but that he cannot let himself give up.

I am supposed to take him shopping for football cleats in a size 13 as well as a mouth guard, and most uncomfortably, a cup and jock.When we were looking over the list of stuff to buy, seeing the color drain out of his face was kind of funny, but then again, it wasn't a particularly pleasant thing for me to consider either, I just do not even want to be aware of my sons bits and pieces at this juncture, and according to online research, the cups come in particular sizes, oh bloody hell! He asked me to just give him my card, but last time I did that, he came home with rock t-shirt, and a "I like Boobies" bracelet, wound up on rockstar sodas, giggling over stuff that had gone on at the mall, so that is not even an option. Its times like this, a rent a man or even a reliable male friend who knows about such things as cups, jocks, and cleats could be utilized to help him with these things, instead of his mom, who is prone to asking embarrassing questions or being an embarrassment, simply by her presence. I wish you were here.

Dear Roger; That Muttering Under My Breath Thing? Yeah, You Were Right!

You always told me that if I kept biting my tongue and not saying what was on my mind I was going to get headaches or a heart attack, so years ago I started following your advice and I started saying what I wanted to say, even if it was under my breath or here on this blog, or in various forums,(thank God for web), because not only have I been able to keep my various twitches under relative control, I have staved off a heart attack longer than you did! I fully expected to follow right along in your footsteps and have my first and probably last major heart attack at 35 like you did, but hell, perhaps following your advice has given me some more time to explore what is going on in the world and that is yet another reason I have to thank you. But sometimes my willingness to speak my mind or randomly comment on things comes back to call me to task or even shock me just a bit.

Even though I write and publish in a forum that is available to most of the public, I am actually a fairly private and shy person. I do not often approach strangers because I tend to vapor lock, and if its someone I have a bit of a thing for, its even worse, I mean I literally just kinda become an all over twitching, gelatinous mess. But from behind the comfort of my computer or my pen and paper, I am brave and confidant and a bit of a smart ass, because I dont have to worry about all my little quirks coming out. I dont normally bother people I like, especially the famous that i follow on twit. But yesterday I was a bit morose and I was sitting on my porch just contemplating the day and trying to find a place to cool off when I saw that an actor who is amongst my very favorite actors of all time, was tweeting about a concert he had attended. I dont know what compelled me, in fact after I sent it, I thought to myself,"You goofy heifer, he probably has 10million others harassing him!" and I felt bad, but I thought that my commentary about my dorky son finding the band lame and that perhaps my son should be returned as defective, was funny...at the time. I went on about my business, Stevie was putting bunny ears on me and squawking about spiders being on the porch, my friend was calling me about the kids going to church, and Chance was griping about my requirement that he clean his hair out of the sink in the front bathroom,(seriously, someone sheared a weasel in there), and I almost missed it, but I have tweetdeck and I happened to hear the tone and I glanced down and there it was...he responded to me! Dork that I am, I spazzed, jumped, and dropped my laptop. Thats right, I dropped my freaking laptop, almost fell out of my chair, and Chance claims that I squealed. He came running out to see what the hell the problem was, thinking that a spider had gotten on me and fearing that if I had killed my computer, that he was going to lose his to me, only to find that I was incapable of coherent speech. I stammered for a good minute while we assessed my laptop and I just pointed to my screen. Chance looked at it and asked the typical oblivious, teen boy question,"Who the hell is that and whats the big deal?" followed by, "Mom, you are such a DORK!" accompanied by a look of both pity and dismay, as if he is afraid my dorky/nerdiness will rub off on him. He stomped back into the apartment and said,'I would have been impressed if it was that lil chick that play Alice, now shes do able." Never mind the fact I was completely disturbed that my 14 year old son say the term 'do able" I did yell back at him that at age 14, nothing is do able for him, it completely stunned and shocked me that I had gotten a response. I am so used to just being able to sit here and mutter under my breath or just throw stuff out into the open without anyone ever commenting back, that it totally set me back on my heels that I arbitrarily got a response, much less from someone that well, to be quite honest, I find to be more than a little interesting for a guy thats my age. Soo, I am not quite sure how I feel about that, I know I wont go off randomly tweeting famous people anymore, that just gobsmacked me and I dont think my computer could handle another drop.

Writing has always been my way of venting, of getting off my chest my feelings about what I find to be injustice, or even my commentary on just what is going on around me, a simple testament of my life and what has gone on. I have always been a bit arrogant, and I have never denied that fact. My temperament has always been that of an artist and as you are well aware Rog, us artistic types do not often play well with others, so rather than mix out in the world, I write and share that way, and sometimes I take pictures or draw, though my drawing is not what it used to be. My photographs used to share my view of the world, but without access to a darkroom and an enlarger, I enlarge my world in the written word, changing what displeases me by simply erasing or marking through, or even hitting backspace when I write on my computer, its much simpler and less dramatic than the great artistic bonfire of '91 that my mother has never forgiven me for,where I burned most of my artwork and photography in the backyard, but in a way its just as cowardly. Writing is the one thing that I tend to let myself loose on, and while I may not speak out loud as much anymore, it does help me find my voice, but when someone hears me, it tends to scare the hell out of me, even if they do consider it as a sneeze in a crowd, it was my sneeze that got the,'Bless you" and for a moment someone knew I was there, and that is what my writing does for me, it reminds me that I was here.

I have been invited to join some groups since I have been up here, and while I find it very flattering to be invited to join and participate, I find that my upbringing and my perhaps repressive, public side has me reticent to make the decision to do it. There are parts of my life that I keep private from the majority of those who know me, almost Jekyll/Hyde kind of life so to speak, and sometimes when those start to overlap, its a bit distressing. My reading habits,as well of most of my social networking habits are kept private from my family and my real life friends and when I go to work, I wont share that side of me with my work mates, but sometimes the language of my other life slips into my real life and that makes for some embarrassing moments. Considering that my verbal filter does not work its best at the worst times, I have done my best to keep my mouth shut when I am drug to church or social occasions around church folks, especially since using the term,' Hard limit" in a conversation, realizing what I had just said, freezing, then stammering out ,'Oh Shit" and then just standing there wishing that I could evaporate the rest of the time. I am not very extroverted. I embarrass easily, and I tend to like to be more of a loner, that just doesn't get into the whole fan insanity that surrounds so many scenes, and I mulled over the invites with that thought in mind. While it would be nice to know more people who share my passions for good music, I am just a little to uptight to call myself a "hoor", and thus is the crux of the matter. I was never the groupie type even when I was young and able to run around after random rock stars, and even though the thought of it would be kinda fun in a truly decadent way now, I am just past that part of my life and I would chain my daughters in the basement if they even remotely acted that way. Luckily my eldest daughter is not interested in men or dating until she finishes college, and my youngest, while in love, still equates her love with that of a teddy bear or sock monkey, so I am golden for a few more years, and then I will see about that basement. My eldest son is the one I have to worry about hooring about, though I am not quite sure after what?

I have use of a car, once it gets fixed that is. Sus has generously said that I can borrow her car for extended road trips to Seattle or the coast so I can get out and explore! I have to make sure that the medication I am on isn't going to keep my blood pressure too low to drive, and I have to keep gas in it and watch my lead foot, but other than that, I can finally break out and go! I am planning on hitting Seattle pretty soon, I have been just dying to get out and wander around and even though I would be alone, it will still be an opportunity to stretch out. After all those years of not being able to go and see and be free, this is like having the blinders off and the threat of the whip taken away. Its amazing to have the power to hang up on him and not worry about whats coming through that door.

I have even been considering trying an open mic night with some of my writing, perhaps letting the voice that has only been seen for many years finally be heard once again. I dont do the ,"Cowboy Poetry" anymore, I left it behind with much of the heartache, but I have new stuff that is built out of a decade of shouting into the darkness, so perhaps a brick at a time I need to throw it out at the world.

Dear Roger;Tech Support is Lacking Around Here So I May Hide His Computer

So with all the free time on my hands while I have been cooling my heels at home, so damned broke I cant even afford to pay attention, I have been trying to figure out how to post some of my favorite songs and stuff to my blogs website,(much like many of my fellow blogsters have done), and while I can post them as blog postings,I seem to be too techtarded to be able to post my whole damn youtube playlist of favorites like I wanted to and its annoying the crap outta me! I used to be the family's go to person for all tech questions, I was the one that was up on all the latest things and I knew how to do it all! Hell, I even worked in a computer lab at my college for awhile, teaching kids how to use the internet, but now days I am falling behind. Its like my brain has been filled up with so much random junk, that I have lost all the valuable abilities that I used to have. I couldn't even properly explain to a kid the other day, the meaning of a God damned Sperber essay! That obtuse, verbose, self-important, frog, was freshman torture when I started off in college and I suffered through his crap for over 2 years, and I could not form a coherent thought. I also find myself losing little bits of other things like laws and things that I used to know backwards and forwards, and in a lots of ways it scares me, but I find it annoying more than anything. I read, I write, I pay attention to what is going on around me, and I practice things that should help me stay sharp, but not being able to make a simple playlist? I have tried to get Chance to do it for me, but I dont allow him or any of the rest of my family into my blog, so it makes it a bit difficult, plus the little shit find it funny as hell to tease me about my failings.

I walked to my doctors appointment today, and that was another example of my goofiness catching up with me. I had the directions wrong and instead of being 400 yards away at the closest office buildings, it was actually 4 miles away, and up hill. I had to beat feet to get there on time and I was a bit on the sweaty side because it decided to get pretty damn warm today, and of course it was a nice and toasty walk in jeans and boots with a black denim shirt. I made it on time, but I was sure to mention that I tend to do goofy stuff like that more and more, though she just kinda laughed at me and said that I should probably go back up to the full dosage of my seizure medications, (something I am not wanting to do), though she did not sweat me about my smoking in light of all the crap I am dealing with. She also suggested a medication to help me get over my acne and to perhaps give my libido a kick start, which kinda left me thinking, why bother? I dont have a man, I haven't really put forth a hell of a lot of effort in looking, and I just dont really want to get ripped over the coals of another relationship. I listened to that last song I posted the other night,I mean I really LISTENED to it after Stevie started crying while she had it on with headphones, and she said that it just broke her heart to hear him sooo sad, so after I listened to it, I thought that I spent a huge chunk of my life feeling that way and it absolutely stinks, and its a horrible way to be, and I just dont want to go through it again. I dont have the strength of spirit, at least not at this time. I like looking, cute boys make me smile and flirting is fun, but to actually open myself up to that kinda pain, of actually just being a hollow shell of who I am for the sake of not being alone at least in the physical sense? nah...I have my screen saver and good music to sing me to sleep, I have interesting stories and books to read, and I have people to talk to and movies to watch with cute boys that make me smile, even though they obviously know a little more about the pain of living lies than they let on. I will just be alone, maybe renting from time to time, and happy to not drag my heart across the razor blade.

Hopefully I will get the music thingy figured out, with all the free time I have on my hands I should be able to get it sorted in the next day or two, if I can keep the damn cat from attacking me every time I start working on it.