I really wonder now, if the dog’s not gone from next door. This is due to how he’s parked his car in front of the carport for the last few days, and the fact that I’ve heard no barking. Tom said he heard “soft whimpering” that sounded close by, though, but he wouldn’t tell me if it was next door; said he didn’t know. I’m pretty sure it was next door, though, and that he knew it. He’s tried to weasel out of admitting next door’s dog was doing certain barking fits, by saying that it was close, or in that direction.

Cuz of my schedule, I can’t say how the music’s been cuz I haven’t been up when he comes in for lunch or at the end of his day.

The fact that the weekend is now here really stresses me out, cuz you never know what they’re gonna do, or who’s gonna think about playing ball.

We’re gonna be getting an inkjet printer and a flatbed scanner and getting rid of this dot matrix printer that’s so old.

Right now, this lady who’s fortunate enough to have music and art come to her naturally still isn’t feeling as fortunate as she’d like to over the fact that never getting pregnant comes to her naturally as well. God really went all out not just to make me unique, different, and abnormal, he went all out to see to it that I’m just such a naturalist in so many ways. I always did say, after all, that the rarer something is, the easier it comes to me, and the more common it is, the harder it is to do or obtain. Well, I guess all I can do is remind myself that we all want what we can’t have at some point in our lives. If I hadn’t wanted a kid or didn’t care either way, we’d have had that, but then I’d be wishing for something else. Had our sex lives been normal, I’d just wish for something different, something unique.

To my utter amazement, Andy went a few days without calling me. Then he said something about it being “several” days since we talked, in a way that implied that it had been weeks. He knows I’m more tied up on weekends and hate to talk then, so he’ll make it a point to call, I’m sure. God, if you won’t send him Mr. Right for him, please do so for me. That’d get him off my case somewhat if his attention could be tied up in a guy.

I felt bad about going off on him when he was all panicked about his pot desires (he’s been clean for a month). I didn’t mean for my best friend to call me, needing a shoulder to cry on, just to get insulted, but I not only hate the phone - I’ve got a life. It may not be much of one compared to most people, and it may never be the ideal life I dream of, but I have more than phones and TV. I swear, all this guy knows is phones, food, and TV when he’s not working or getting high. I know what he’s going through. I know what it’s like to endure the hardships of quitting a substance you’ve been both physically and psychologically addicted to for years. I know what it’s like to be deprived of a natural, common thing your heart, mind, and body cries out for (love/child), but as I told him, these daily messages about things in general, when we’re not panicking, aren’t necessary. Too much is too much. I loved it years ago, but I’ve moved on, unlike him. What I mean by that is that there’s always gonna be areas in my life where I just can’t move on. On the other hand, I have moved on, gotten a life, and matured. Andy’s changed, too, in wonderful ways. He’s not selfish and insensitive like he used to be, but Andy’s still Andy for the most part. He still lives on phones, he still seeks and attracts losers, and he hasn’t grown intellectually. So, you could say I have mixed emotions about Andy and his life. As his friend, and as someone who knows what it’s like to be denied something that everyone should have, I want to listen to him. At the same time, I’ve got my own problems and my own thing that I’ve been denied that everyone should have. Or at least have a choice in the matter. And also, there’s nothing I can do for him. I don’t want to be rude and negative and depress him even more by reminding him that he’ll never find love, that it’s not meant to be, and all that shit.

Later...

Every day this week, the asshole next door left at 7 AM. There’s been no music, but this is the first time I’ve ever known the freeloader to be consistent about the time he leaves. Usually, he leaves at 7:30 one day, 8:30 the next, and it varies.

Once I’m done with this 12-week bullshit here, I may continue to use the Nicorette gum. They say not to use it past 12 weeks, but how can it hurt me? It’s just nicotine. There’s no tar or carbon monoxide or anything that can hurt me in it. It’s just that I’m still having such cravings! For the most part, although I do feel healthier, I don’t feel any different now, than I did the day I quit. It’s really disappointing to know that it’s still such a big deal to me, although I figured as much. If only Tom could’ve kept his fucking word and promise! If he just would stop with the fucking games! And if God would just let me have the kid! That’d go a long, long way towards making sure I didn’t go back to the smokes, but God’s not gonna allow me no kid here, and Tom will always be Tom. I have to just settle for better health and saved money as reason enough to keep sticking this out. I know that that’s plenty reason enough, but you know how I feel.

I still wish I could know that I’d see the cigarettes, eventually, as I see other things. Take my earliest journals, for example. I know that the girl who wrote those and who lived that life and those experiences was me, yet it seems like a whole different lifetime ago, a whole different person, a whole different life. Even though I still like to write, still have long hair, and still love to sing, living on Oswego St. seems so very far away. So very far behind me, way deep in the past. If only I could see cigarettes that way; as something I used to do a long, long time ago. Something that I remember, but that’s also vague and long gone from my life.