I sure am having lousy luck with painting today! I tried to do a painting of an ocean and palm trees, but by the time I got done with the sky, it was a bust since I don’t have the proper colors.

I’m sitting outside on a lounge chair in the backyard where I have plenty of company. Several pigeons that I feed come here daily and they go back and forth between waltzing around the backyard, to the pool for drinks. There’s a wall dividing the pool and Jacuzzi which they stand on in order to be low enough to the water to get drinks.

Tom, who has weekends off is now in the kitchen painting a picture of Gloria Estefan, my second favorite singer. My first favorite is Linda Ronstadt.

Yesterday, at Tom’s parent’s house, Tom fixed a pair of electric scissors for Ma since she really relies on them due to having bad arthritis.

Then Tom and I took turns sawing branches off a tree in their front yard with a really neat saw that’s on a pole for reaching higher branches.

I also had a couple of Ma’s homemade cookies and showed her some drawing techniques. I seem to be much better at drawing than painting since I’ve done this longer. I’ve done some shitty drawings and some that were excellent, but overall, I’m just an average artist. It’s something I accidentally discovered and stumbled upon back in Massachusetts in 1989.

When we get more art sealer (clear spray paint) I’ll do more wall art. I’ve got several drawings on the walls in the house which I use Crayola washable markers to do. When we move into that bigger, more modern house we want, I’ll have more room to hopefully do even better wall art since I’ve improved with time and practice.

Later...

In a little while, Tom and I will be having sex which I both love and hate but will get into another time.

I’m watching a really neat movie now as I write that I’ve seen before about the miraculous landing of a cabin-torn plane.

Now I’ll describe our house. It was built in the 50s and is older than I prefer. It’s a 2-bedroom. One of the bedrooms is a pretty good size. The living room’s too small and there’s barely any counter space in the kitchen, but the back room is pretty large. It runs the whole length of the back of the house and it’s where our computer and electronic stuff is as well as our guinea pig. He’s nearly 2½ years old with a few different shades of brown. I call him Piggy or Piggles.

We sleep in the master bedroom and we both use the other one. He uses the closet in there and has a dresser of clothes. I have my stereo in there, my journals, and a table for writing and drawing.

The bathroom is too old and too small.

We have a long 2-car garage where you can park bumper to bumper. He’s the only one who has a car, though, as I’ve always had a phobia against driving that I never could conquer, even though I do have a license. Also, I never could afford a car.

The exterior of the house is brick that’s painted light blue.

We have a good size backyard with a pool and Jacuzzi. I wish we could afford to heat them during the winter.

Later...

Throughout my writing, I’ll be bouncing back and forth between the current and the past.

I’ll describe a little bit about my character, personality, etc. Well, I don’t work and haven’t for the bulk of my life. Regular jobs just aren’t me and I cannot keep a schedule. I prefer working at home and playing the typical role of the wife while Tom’s the breadwinner. So, I work on my hobbies here at home as well as take care of the house. I do, however, have hopes of selling an art disk sometime this year.

I’ll go through my work history, though, now which is incredibly brief that one might laugh. When I was 16, I briefly worked at the Harley Hotel in Enfield, Connecticut for a few weeks, but was fired due to my being too stupid to do the job right.

Then when I was 18, I worked at a concession stand at a movie theater in a mall in Holyoke, Massachusetts. This job sucked and had no modern cash register. Just a money drawer. So, me and my lousy math ability had to count back change, and back then I could barely even use a calculator as I can now. I was there barely a month when I was told I’d be laid off, but I’m pretty sure this was their kindest way of firing me.

Then, it was off to McDonald’s which sucked and didn’t last long either. The reason why I left there after a month or so is cuz I returned to the Harley Hotel where I remained from 3/1995-5/1996. This was the longest I ever held a job. I was a housekeeper there and for the most part, I loved the job. Why? Well, I was only 20 and 21 years old, so most people that age aren’t quite picky and tend to put their all into anything they can get. Also, I was pretty desperate for attention at this time in my life and really got along with my boss and coworkers well.

This would change, though, as the impact of my past was finally hitting me. They say there are the 3 stages for those who’ve had any kind of trauma in their past. First there’s the suppression, then it hits you and you can’t help dwelling on it no matter what, then there’s getting to the point where you can deal with it and accept it, even though you can never forget it.

I wasn’t hated there, but my boss got sick of me as I was late or absent more and more and had more problems concentrating on my work. For a reason no one knew, Linda S, our boss, up and left and seemed to stab everyone in the back on her way out. She had promised to get together with me and other people there that thought she had become our friend. I guess Linda was phony and her friendliness was all for show to create a better work environment.

In the end, there’d be 4 people there who either made trouble for me or that I made trouble for. Linda and her homicide detective husband, Jenny C, a friend I’d had since I was 9, Michelle L, who I took in to live with me in my apt., and finally, Norah M, the new supervisor from London, England who I had a major crush on.

Linda was the executive and when she left, she took the supervisor that was also her friend named Allison T with her.

They were replaced with Sandra J as the executive and Norah was to be the new supervisor.

Usually, it takes me time to develop any lust for a person. Also, I had never been attracted to guys before meeting Tom. I could tell which guys were better looking than others and found some to be physically attractive, but there was never any comparison to my attraction towards women and Tom.

Norah was one of the very few whom I experienced lust at first sight. Until I met Tom, it was never a mutual thing for me. Anyone I wanted didn’t want me and vice versa. I’m not sure if Norah was gay. One minute she seemed to drop hints suggesting that she was and the next she seemed straight as an arrow. I guess she was straight. She strung me along by promising to get together with me and sometimes I wasn’t sure if she was just deliberately playing games or if she really was interested in at least being my friend. She was very moody, too. One minute she’d be so friendly and the next she’d bitch at me and anyone else who was nearby for no apparent reason. Even the boss had a talking to her about that a few times. Everyone hated her.

I loved her English accent. The English accent has always been my favorite. She was short. Maybe a couple of inches taller than me. She had shoulder-length brown hair and brown eyes. She wasn’t fat or skinny. She had to have been in her mid-30s at the time I knew her. I’ve always liked them older.

Soon enough I’ll get into past lovers, but that’s more like past sex partners, as I’ve been with very few people for very short periods of time. Before Tom, as I always would describe it, I spent 99.9% of my life alone. I was 100% sure I’d be alone forever with an occasional one-niter with a woman once or twice a year if I was lucky. Femininity and lesbianism don’t go well together. If you’re into butches; no problem. Butches love fems, but the very few other gay or bi fems out there almost always prefer butches. Supposedly, they want the sensitivity of a woman, but the masculinity at the same time. Well, believe me, I’ve known some pretty rough and brutal butches that are no different than men, only they live in women’s bodies.

I know we all can’t help the way we look for the most part, but there’s something I never could get. If you’re not attracted to men, why would you want to look like one or be with a woman who looks like one?