I have decided for once and for all that I am going to learn computer programming so I can write apps for Android. It's going to take time and patience, but I figure that if I can learn languages and write books, I can learn to program. I'm already a bit computer savvy and I've got the best teacher in the world... Tom! 

We were talking earlier and he was telling me that if he’s wrong in thinking he didn’t get one of those jobs in his department he interviewed for the other day, then that would mean half a year or so of OT, which would mean mad money for a while even if they didn’t give him a raise. Whether he gets it or not, he still doesn’t have as much time as I have and so I’ve finally decided to have him teach me how to write apps and things like that, and then I can watch some tutorials on my own. I’ve always wanted to program but shied away from it because I’m not nearly as good with numbers as I am with words. But I can learn and learn I will! The way to improve on what we’re not good at is to do it, so he gave me a little taste today on Google’s App Inventor in which you’re not coding from scratch. You use their blocks of coding to build this and that, and you can see the changes both on your monitor and your phone. It’s pretty neat. 

I suppose it’s possible that the more I delve into it the more confused and frustrated I may get, and well, not everybody can do everything. But I won’t know for sure if I can or not unless I try. 

Speaking of codes, I wish Prosebox supported JavaScript and not just HTML. On other sites, I track I can tell where people go and not just that they’ve visited, but on Prosebox I can’t tell where people go. That’s because JS isn’t supported there and I have to use an HTML code, which gives me limited info. I’m hoping the guy adds the kind of CSS editor that the old OD site had. 

Later… 

This may sound funny, but I think I’m going to give up coffee for a while. For some reason, it just doesn’t appeal to me anymore unless it’s some expensive gourmet cappuccino or something like Starbucks that’s riddled with sugar and calories. There’s always hot chocolate and tea, though it’s a bit warm for any hot beverages of any kind right now. 

A few people have asked if I think I know what caused the anxiety attacks I recently had. I know what caused them. They were triggered by my accidentally ODing and by all the appointments I’ve got that never seem to slow down. The ODing was very scary and I just felt overwhelmed with all the health stuff. All pills seemed evil to me for a while there. Even Ibuprofen suddenly seemed evil. I was afraid to take anything for a few days because the incident put a bit of a complex on me. Strangely enough, though, since they did the biopsy I’ve had a lot less itching. 

I’m doing much better now, though, and am finding a balance between how much attention and effort I put into dealing with things. It’s one of those cases where you don’t want to avoid dealing with your problems, be it medical issues, anxiety, etc., but you don’t want to dwell on them either. If we focus too much on what’s wrong, we’ll never enjoy what’s right in our lives. 

I made up my mind as far as whether or not to reach out to Aly and her crazy friends on Ask after going back and forth and back and forth. Do I consider the good in her and contact her? I asked myself, or do I consider the bad and the potential trouble that could come from the other two and stay away? 

I asked Tom his opinion and his was to stay away. Not so much because of what they’ve done wrong, but because I told them to stay away from me. Therefore, it would be wrong of me to go to them after I told them for years to stay away from me. Really, I literally worked for years trying to get them to leave me alone. It took years to get them off my ass. So do I really want them back on it, fair of me or not? I definitely don’t! It seems only inevitable too, that the shit would eventually hit the fan with them again. You just can’t reject people like Kim and Molly without being stalked, pestered, followed and harassed, and it doesn’t go on for weeks or even just months. It goes on for years. No thanks! 

Later… 

Had a series of dreams last night that was both strange and sad. In one dream we gave 8 baby rats to a place like Goodwill. 

In another, we were at a movie theater, a place we’ve had absolutely no desire to visit what with Netflix, Amazon and all the stuff you can watch right in the comfort of home. Never cared for movie theaters. If someone isn’t talking and distracting you, you still can’t pause the movie when you have to pee nor can you rewind a certain part you want to see again. 

Anyway, the theater was showing two movies. Tom and I waited in the lobby when this woman came in with her 5 screaming brats. I hoped they weren’t going to be watching the movie we were going to watch. Then another woman starts screaming at her for being rude enough to not only bring her brood but to allow them to carry on like such animals. 

As the woman was running scared with her kids and the woman going off on her was being ushered out, Tom pulled a pistol from his pocket and I asked him what he was doing with it. “We’re 75 now. We need this,” he said. 

LOL, not that we could ever both be 75 at the same time. He wasn’t the only one packing a piece in my dreams, though. 

The sad dream was that I moved into a ground-floor apartment with two bedrooms all by myself. Tammy stayed in the spare bedroom my first night there. Maybe it was in Florida? I don’t know where Tom was or how the rent was being paid but as I lay in bed that night I was very depressed and very annoyed at all the sounds I could hear around me within the building. I heard it all. Every fart, hiccup, cough, sneeze and word uttered. 

I got up to use the bathroom and ran into Tammy who gave me a comforting hug and promised to keep me safe. I told her that if she ever needed a place she was welcome to have the other bedroom since I doubted I’d ever have a roommate. 

“Don’t worry,” my sister said, “I’ve got you covered. Here, watch this.” 

Tammy then pulled a pistol out of her robe pocket and fired at the ceiling where it met the wall. 

“Don’t do that!” I said. “What if you shot out their water pipes upstairs or something?” 

Tammy just shrugged, laughed and said, “Well, if I did… tough.”