As usual, we’re having computer problems. This time Charter’s the problem because we can’t get online. They’re coming out tomorrow afternoon to do God knows what.

We walked to BK today and did the first chapter of my book together, so chapter one is officially ready for submission once we do the other 29. What a stupid idiot I was to even think that horrible horror book I wrote in 2000 could be even remotely publishable. I read that I thought that when I was looking something else up. How naïve of me to think that! I don’t even think this book will make it, despite the fact that it is a good story and it is well-written. There may be no money involved, which I’m not meant to have anyway, but God does have a no-success-for-Jodi rule on me, so to speak. I don’t know why, but I guess He must have a reason. On the other hand, I don’t have a serious desire to become a writer. It’s something I could take or leave, so knowing that, perhaps the book will make it just like the pictures did because I never “dreamt” of being a photographer. At least Barb will tell me why she rejects it if she does, and I’m not going to struggle for something that’s not meant to be. I learned years ago that that’ll only depress me and maybe get me in trouble, so if it doesn’t make it, I’ll just keep on writing for fun. If I’m meant to be a broke homemaker, then I gotta stay a broke homemaker. Period. I so totally believe - no, I know - that if I were to try to fight fate, I’d be in for it. Writing isn’t worth the fight to me anyway. I can do for fun what maybe would’ve made me a few bucks a year otherwise. And if I continue to write for fun, I don’t have to try to be so damn perfect.

Mondays are our typical laundry day, but by next Monday, the truck’s license will be expired. Tom said, however, we can drive short distances, say to pick up a washer at the Salvation Army, versus Goodwill, which is further away. At first I didn’t like this idea, figuring that if we get made to pay for things we don’t do wrong, how would we get away with something we did do wrong? But I think it’ll be alright. Despite the high pig activity around here, I doubt we’d get caught in front of one long enough for them to really notice the expiration date. That’s not a high priority for them as opposed to other traffic violations.

I look forward to not only having a washer but having bikes as well. While having to resort to walking and bikes may be a major setback, especially at our ages, we at least both agree the exercise would be good for us. He’s especially looking forward to it because he can’t stick to indoor activity like I can. I never miss more than two days in a row each week, if even that. It doesn’t make me skinny, but it keeps me fit, strong, agile and more flexible. It also helps keep me from gaining weight, though I have hit 130 pounds because I’ve been overeating lately. This is why I’m going to start a diet tomorrow, and hopefully – hopefully – get down to 120 pounds. I don’t know if I can do it because at this age 120 pounds is worlds away from 130 pounds. I mean, I know I could, but can I stand the hunger long enough to actually get down there? We’ll see. Anyway, he has to get a bike first, then I’ll get a bike whenever. It’ll be too cold most of the year to really enjoy riding anyway.

I know we’re not moving in July. Again, God wants us here as much as He wants us broke. I don’t know why it’s so important that we live so close to others, but I’m not about to fight it and ask for more trouble. I’m just going to stay put till we leave this damn state, and instead of dealing with any problem neighbors we may have while we’re here, maybe I’ll have them deal with me for a change. I’m sick of moving around anyway, and why should I be the one to move just because most people can’t shut up?

Meanwhile, we’re still going to save up enough money to do my teeth with. Then I guess the next thing to save for would be a bed, and then a propane heater for the bedroom to save a good $40 or so a month. Electric heat is a killer!

Last night I was thinking about how Meagan’s achieved a long-time woman, a child, a great job, and a house, all at barely 20 years of age. I was like, hey, what’s wrong with this picture? This chick’s still practically a kid and she’s got all this, yet we’re nearly 40 and 48 and we’re sleeping on what’s pretty much nothing more than fancy pool rafts, for God’s sake, and our only pieces of furniture are two lawn chairs and a few beat-up weather-worn tables. I know I should be grateful that we’ve at least got our health and each other, but well, some people really seem to get it all and we’re just not one of them. It’s like God’s playing favorites or something and this really bothers me.

I don’t know how she’s going to do all this with a child, but she’s going after her master’s while she’s teaching. So anyway, I was depressed last night and couldn’t figure out why, but I knew it was connected to the news of Meagan. I said to myself, “But you love Tom and you have no regrets about marrying him. And you know leaving him wouldn’t be worth an occasional piece of ass because you know you were never meant to be with a decent woman in the first place. If you couldn’t get a decent woman in your 20s, how would you at nearly 40 years of age? Besides, even if you could, you know the thought of leaving Tom would kill you. You love him too much to leave him for any woman, no matter how gorgeous she may be, so why are you depressed?”

And then I said to myself, “You know you don’t want a child. After the initial excitement of seeing it and holding it for the first time, you know the high would quickly wear off once the reality set in of just what an overwhelming responsibility and expense you would be faced with. You don’t want the smelly diapers, the not being able to have 5 minutes to yourself, the noise, the chaos, and to be tied down in such a way, so why are you depressed?”

Lastly, I said to myself, “You know you’ll own a house again one day. That much is in your cards. The great job, no, but the house, yes. It may be way in the future, but it’s there, so why are you depressed?”

So I thought about it and I thought about it and couldn’t figure out the reason for the longest time, and then it finally hit me. Wanting or not wanting these things isn’t the issue; it’s that I was never given a choice in the first place. No, I don’t want to leave Tom, and yes, I’m ever so glad we met, but God said, “No, you will not have the woman of your dreams.” I’ve often wondered if he made me a man’s woman so I could have medical insurance back when I always had something wrong with me, and to tease me back when I did want a kid very badly like I did the first 3-4 years of our marriage. I may not have wanted a kid for many years now, but again, it both hurts and angers me that back when I did God said, “No, you will not have a child.” He may’ve done the right thing since I would’ve lived to regret it if I had, but the point’s the same. He stripped me of my right to choose, and it’s things like this that make me resent God. And these are far from the only things I had no say in. I feel that more so than most, I’ve been a puppet on a string, destined to go only where fate and others say I can go. Why can’t I be in the driver’s seat of my own damn life for a change, other than when it comes to what outfit I’ll wear tomorrow or what songs I listen to? Being able to choose my cinnamon lipstick over my pink lipstick is great, but how about being able to choose to have a child if I suddenly wanted one again, without the stubborn husband in the way, even if I wouldn’t enjoy motherhood and if we’d struggle even worse? How about being able to be an author if I chose to? How about being able to keep a schedule? How about being able to have normal sex with my husband if I wanted to, or get the pink sculpted carpet and the trash compactor we got fucked out of having back when we moved to Maricopa? Huh? How come? How the fuck come Jodi can’t have what Jodi wants? How come if I want something, somebody or some circumstances out of my control have to overpower me and see to it that I fail to succeed if I don’t fail to succeed on account of a stupid judgment call I’ve made or something like that? I just don’t get it. Did I keep someone from the things they wanted in a previous life or something? How can a good God allow me to have experienced the hardships I’ve experienced throughout my life? Or not step in and help me if it wasn’t Him that “ordered it,” so to speak, as part of my plan? I can see a few hardships every now and then. That’d only be normal, but enough’s enough! I wonder just how many others feel the way I do. Does Meagan feel as blessed as I feel singled out and picked on? Or does she ever feel like she settled with her girlfriend and that she’s unable to break away? Will she come to regret having a child? Will she end up so cruelly fired and lose her house and all she built up over the years? Will she be kicked down over and over again and have to start over a zillion times? Is God or some person waiting to tear down whatever she achieves?

I feel so unique in my life between both my childhood and my adult life, though I know I shouldn’t. Logically speaking, I know many others have abusive childhoods and similar problems as an adult, though I still feel so alone anyway. Especially with his not cumming (even if I’d prefer him not to so long as he doesn’t mind) and the schedule problem. I think more people have a deformed ear like I do than this shit! I try to remind myself that I’ve got many good things on top of the bad. Most people can’t teach themselves foreign languages, even if my signing and Spanish aren’t perfect, and they can’t sing like I do, even if I’m just a 7 on a scale of 1-10.

Sometimes I want to break down and cry because they say it makes you feel better, and sometimes it does. However, I’m afraid that by doing so I’d only be giving whatever’s up there cursing us what it wants – a good laugh at my expense. No thanks!

I miss my old pictures so much! The celebrity ones that my spells “brought to life,” whoever they became in the end when I was between 9-26. Sure I can talk to Tom when I’m down, and I do, but I don’t want to overdo it and bring him down too, and the rat couldn’t understand. The pictures not only could understand, but they didn’t “talk back” or condemn me for the way I felt. Wait till I tell Mary that the pictures coming to life thing is actually a reality! If anyone would believe me, it would be her. I can tell her anything, and if she didn’t think this was crazy, then she wouldn’t think anything I could tell her was crazy. She may be too trusting, but she’s not dumb. Maybe she already figured out that Angel Eyes had a grain of truth to it. I know it was as real as this computer and that the celebrity pictures weren’t really “celebrities” in the end after I did whatever it was I did to transform them if they weren’t already transformed on their own somehow, another reminder that God’s gifted me as well as cursed me, even if the ratio is way off.