Tom lost 4.5 pounds after week one of his diet where he has 100 cals every hour, plus one small meal. I’d try it myself with 75 cals an hour and a meal, but as he pointed out, he has 50-70 pounds to lose, not 30. So it’s not likely to work for me in the same way. It’d probably just fuck my metabolism up some more, and guys always lose weight easier than women anyway. So I just keep doing what I have been doing… making sure I don’t gain. I keep active and go easy on the sugar, pasta and breads. Taking the day off from exercising today, though. It’s unseasonably cool and we’re still getting down in the 40s at night.

Tom injured his sciatic nerve again, but together we managed to change the rats’ cage. It really is disheartening having animals this timid and that always act like we’re going to kill them no matter how well we treat them. I definitely need a good long break from rats after these go, which I’m guessing, will be anytime between May and September of 2018. I just feel like if I’m going to have a pet, it should be one that doesn’t usually run away from me when I approach it.

I’m trying to think of a way to add variety, fun and adventure to my life. I have no problem with going about my usual daily routine. I enjoy the things that I do. But even so, everyone needs a break every now and then from the same old, same old. Like when I worked on my picture project the other day. Writing stories and working on my monthly bio requires a lot of thinking. I like to do something that’s fun every now and then that doesn’t require thinking. My fun picture project is done and I just don’t know what else to do.

I also still think it would be nice to have one or two close friends both online and offline, but those who have dumped me over the years have really put a complex on me. It’s easy to want these things… until I consider the drama that may be involved. It’s hard to believe I could get much drama from someone like Kathleen, for example, but that’s just the problem… I can never befriend the Kathleens of this world in the first place. It’s like I’m not “allowed” to. Whether it’s a strange random coincidence or a God that’s actively deciding what types are available to me and what’s not for some reason, Kathleen isn’t meant to be any more than Stacey was. Especially when you work at home and you don’t drive.

I realize that I’m also a very picky person, though that’s supposed to be a good thing, right? Sorry, but I just don’t want the druggies or the alkies or the bipolars. I don’t want any phony, hypocritical, judgmental liars either. I’ll be friends with someone black as midnight that’s my “type,” before I take a white fucktard of any kind.

As twisted as it may sound, part of me misses the drama with Kim and Molly as well as Aly’s dishonest, untrue friendship. It was phony, it was childish, and it was ridiculous on many levels, but it was also entertaining. Kind of a strange way to be entertained, but still. Sometimes I miss those days. I definitely don’t miss when they would contact my friends, though. As much as I miss some aspects of those days, I’m also smart enough to know that if I was suddenly living that life again, I would wish they were as absent from my life as they are now. Yes, they were truly frustrating at times, even infuriating. But sometimes it was fun doing things to block and frustrate them right back, and just seeing what pathetic shit they would come up with next.

I was sharing these feelings with Tom, and like I told him… it’s easy to think how nice it would be, but then I remember the shit I’ve gone through with so many people and I stay safely wrapped in my cocoon.

I am pretty active on Prosebox, however, and kind of surprised I haven’t met another Alison by now. Even other Kims and Mollys. Were they really the only ones? Three of a kind? I think part of the reason I haven’t been trolled by anyone new is that it’s harder to leave comments anonymously these days. Trolls prefer to hide in the shadows, not dish their shit out in ways that are just going to get them blocked or kicked off a site.

Then it occurred to me that the reason Alison contacted me in the first place wasn’t because of my journals or tweets, but because of my stories. LOL, it was one of my stupid stories written in Maricopa in which Kate Jackson was my muse that got her attention. Maybe I should share some of them on my main Prosebox account. I’m not sure what to do. Do I take the bad that comes with any good in making friends? Or do I take the good that comes with the occasional “bad” that goes with keeping my ass safe?

Like I also told Tom, you can’t make friendships happen just like you can’t make love happen. At least I never could. Sure I might be able to literally make some friends in a relatively short time with all the social media out there, but they may not be the friends I truly want and therefore my heart might just not be in it. I can’t consider just anyone a friend any more than I could take just anyone for a relationship, otherwise I wouldn’t have been single so long before meeting Tom.

The most important thing is that I have the best hubby in the world. Not the greatest pets, but definitely a great hubby.

Last night I dreamed we were staying in a hotel. Tom was asleep and I noticed the door to the adjoining room was open. I peeked into the other room and saw an old lady asleep on the bed. Glad to have an old neighbor, I quietly closed and locked the adjoining door.

Then I was asking a couple of young women smoking cigarettes how to get to a particular place, and thinking about how we just moved long distance. I was thinking of the Maria doll and the Denise manikin left behind in Arizona. Only thing is that in reality, I got Denise in Oregon. It seemed we’d been in a rental for a much shorter time than we thought we would be. The landlord was a middle-aged guy who seemed really nice and a part of me felt bad for leaving things behind.

In another dream, I seemed to be going to a clinic for a regular procedure of some kind. The nurse assured me that I would soon be able to come and go quickly and then eventually inject myself with some kind of medication. Not a great dream.

Decided that “Gaynor,” which I changed to Amantha since I like the name better, will be used for stories only on Prosebox. I’m not going to create a new account for each story like I have been doing. So there will be the story account and the journal account.