Just sitting here wondering why my water and hunger levels didn’t drop after my period like they usually do. My weight’s up again at just over the 150-pound marker rather than just under it. I ate plenty yet I want to eat some more. What the fuck is making me so hungry? 

Went to Vintage & More where people set up booths to sell their old stuff. There was so much to see there! I contemplated a few items – an Indian doll, a few figurines, a wind chime, a designer purse – but decided not to get anything. Nothing new in Goodwill either, who was right next door. 

Before we went out we took the bikes for a longer ride and now I’m not sure if I really like this bike better or not. It seemed “underpowered,” even going downhill, but that’s probably because of the smaller wheels. I also can’t have the seat as low as I’d like because then my knees come up too high when pedaling. The pedals themselves have longer cranks, so that’s part of it, too. We’re still tweaking gears and things like that. 

My memory has improved with medication, but it’s still not what it used to be and it frustrates me at times. I used to have such a great memory, too. Tom still feels it’s good for my age, and I agree. But still, it’s noticeably worse and I didn’t expect it to start worsening this young. I thought I wouldn’t start noticing it till my 60s or 70s, but an article he read said our memory and ability to learn as fast declines as young as 45. He’s noticed a difference in his own ability to think, process and retain information since he started taking these supplements that are related to the CoQ 10 he takes. 

My short-term memory is still worse than my long-term, but they’re both not as good as they used to be. Funny that we get smarter with age, but we just can’t remember half the shit we’ve learned. I constantly have to take notes. I’ve realized that not remembering where things are around here, as organized as I am, isn’t just a matter of accumulating so much stuff to keep track of. It’s also a matter of me simply not having the memory I once had. This is why I want to go through the house sometime and inventory our stuff. Not the unimportant things like decorative knickknacks, but everyday household items. 

I’ll also do a journal entry and then realize I forgot to mention a few things in it later on. Like how Tom scared the shit out of me after work on Thursday. It usually takes him a half-hour to get home, but 50 minutes later I was getting worried. There was an accident on the freeway that held him up. 

Later… 

While I still don't usually get depressed or overly anxious, especially with the severity that I experienced when my T4 was too high, I do still get angry at times. Tom jokes and says that when I'm pissed off at the world, he knows I’m back to “normal.” It’s true. Anger is my dominant negative emotion and today there were a few things that pissed me off even if they probably shouldn't have. 

When I was struggling with the gears on the new bike I felt a surge of rage course through my veins again at whoever stole my other bike. I suddenly got a strong urge to beat the shit out of them, whoever they are. If I could have magically known their address, I would literally have had Tom drive me over there. 

But as always, God protects my perps. 

Always. 

It’s been that way all my life and that's not only infuriating, but also a bit scary. To know I could be murdered and that He would protect my murderer and make sure they were never caught is anything but a thrilling thing to know. How do I know? I don’t know how I know, but I just do. I truly believe that that would be the case. No one has ever had to pay in the slightest way for screwing me over and I know that will never change this late in life. It just pisses me off and frustrates me. Do I not deserve justice any more than anybody else? Well, if there is a God up there that actively picks and chooses what happens to us, it apparently doesn't think so. He always makes sure I either don’t know who my perps are, don’t know where they are, or that I have something big to lose if I did know where they were. It’s only because of my nieces that I’m not going to seek out and pummel their father, but then if it weren’t for my respect for them and I did maul his ass, I would be the one to land in jail with my shit luck, while he never did a second of time for abusing others. That’s the whole point I’m making here… screw you over and I pay. Screw me over and I still pay. 

It would just be nice if people would stop screwing me over. I don’t want to screw them over, so why do they do it to me? They don’t do it as often as they used to and I know I should have locked the damn bike up, but still… it’s like something Andy once said. He’s had problems with being stood up and he threw his hands up in frustration and said, “But why? I have never done this to anyone before in my life. Ever.” 

And what was my worst crime in life? Telling a lie? Stealing a pack of cigarettes or a candy bar as a kid? Prank calling someone? Egging a car? Not wanting every single goddamn man and woman that hit on me when I was young and thin? 

Oh, wow. Just wow. That really deserves a lot of the shit I got in life, doesn’t it? 

Another thing that pissed me off was when I was watching an episode of Criminal Minds. This particular story was about a stalker and how they kept saying that they really couldn't do anything unless the stalker actually did something. Well, even if I'd been 100% guilty of the letter the blacks received (unless it was as fabricated by their black pig pal as I suspect it was), I never did anything to those sick freeloaders. I never wanted to do anything to them either. I just wanted them to shut up and stop throwing trash over the block wall. That's all I ever wanted. 

I know, however, that my sentence wasn’t just about their connections or the “crime” itself, but mainly about them being black and me being white. Had they been just as white as I am, it never would have come to jail as strict as Arizona is. And yes, Arizona is a lot like Texas. But ever since the L.A. riots we’ve been going harder on whites and easier on blacks, as if this could possibly justify, undo or make up for the shitty way blacks were retreated 100 years ago by those who aren't even alive today. 

The point is the same – people stalk and get away with it while I get screwed for writing something I didn’t write. Never have I ever appeared in court for anything I ever actually did. It was all about what I was supposed to have said/written, and while some of those allegations were, in fact, true, shouldn’t actions speak louder than words? Really, I’m sick and tired of hearing about law enforcement wasting precious time and resources investigating threats. I can see if someone’s actually acted on a threat before, but otherwise, words are just words. 

Then I got re-pissed off just at the thought of stalkers in general. Real, actual, honest-to-God stalkers. Not people who make bogus threats that anyone can make, or say things the general population doesn’t want to hear, but genuine stalkers. Not that I expect one to latch onto me now that I’m fat and aging, but I’m the type that’s much more likely to get pissed than scared, and for a second I almost wished one would fuck with me, not just so I could do society a favor by helping to ensure they thought better of it next time, but to watch the look on their faces as I ran toward them in a rage rather than away from them in fear and thus giving them what they want and get off on. That oughta be priceless. 

Fit, fast and full of rage or not, I’d rather be as I usually am most of the time… bubbly, creative, quick to laugh and joke, eager to try new things, and compassionate. Or at least compassionate in what I feel deserves compassion and not what society has deemed “politically correct.” If you get shot by the pigs cuz you twirled a gun in their faces, I’m not going to feel bad for you just cuz you’re black. If you got killed in an earthquake or your house burned down, though, then I’d probably feel for you.