I have now reached the beginning of the end with Digital Confessions! Now I’m basically at the climax of the plot, then ready to tie up the loose ends that will hopefully finish off a decent enough story.

Meanwhile, it seems like we’re back to square one; waiting for nothing. There was not one single call today, but we’re still working on our online experiment. Still don’t know if it can save us in the end, though, if worse comes to worst. I really wish we could stop struggling and start living! But this has been going on pretty steadily since 2007, so why would it stop now?

Late last night my stomach really started flipping out on me. I realized at that point it had been too long to blame it on the Chinese food I had. I prayed for it to stop. Amazingly, it did. Ah, but I had popped a couple of Tums a little earlier, so given the fact that all my other prayers have gone unanswered, I’d say it was either the Tums or a coincidence. If whatever’s up there didn’t care about those who died in the earthquake in Haiti, or the victims of Hurricane Katrina, or the tsunami of 2005, why would it care about my husband and I? Aren’t we just two people out of billions? Well, right or wrong, I can’t help but see it that way. As much as I love summer, I wish I could snap my fingers and jump to the end of the year. Why? Because by then we’ll either be laughing at these days or we’ll be dead. Why must almost all our problems be so long-term? If we manage to solve this one, I know we’ll just go right into a whole new problem that’ll go on and on for months or even years.

Unfortunately, I’m starting to question Andy’s intentions. He had been being a good friend, sending words of encouragement and not judging or condemning my own words, some of which I figured he might not agree with. I appreciated his letting me have my own way of thinking and believing. But then he started defending the old neighbors in regards to the time I hurled a glass bottle over the wall and into their driveway after getting so fed up and frustrated with their shit, and yes, I was truly guilty of that one. But not the part where he says I said I was going to send them a picture of a burning cross. If I said that – and I don’t recall doing so – it was a bad joke. This simply isn’t the kind of thing I’d get off on doing. For me, the problem was their behavior, NOT their color. Only THEY had a problem with color/religion.

Sometimes I wonder what people expect from me. I mean, what do they want me to do? Take the blame for every single thing that’s ever happened to me whether I deserved it or not? For a while, I was that way. I got it in mind somehow that if I took the blame not only for my own mistakes but for others as well, I would somehow be a better person for it and would win more approval from others. And so that’s how I was for the longest time. If you fucked up or fucked me over, you didn’t have to worry! Jodi would be quick to rescue you from having to take responsibility for your own actions. But not anymore. Not after realizing what a liar this made me look like and how untrue I was being to myself. I can’t make people believe me when I say I didn’t do a particular thing, and I can’t stop others from defending those who have victimized me and gone a hell of a lot further than I have, but that’s ok. I know what happened. I know what I’m guilty of, and I know what I’m innocent of. And I know that if some guy, for example, steals my handbag when I’m out and about, I’m not going to say it was my fault. And if someone rips off your own handbag or wallet, that’s not my fault either! I’d rather the whole world look down on me for not taking blame that isn’t mine, than for everyone to just adore me for accepting blame that isn’t mine.

What’s he gonna do next? Accuse me of some stranger’s murder in Ohio? Tell me I deserved every slap I got from my mother as a tiny baby?

As I told him, if he’s so bothered by what bothered me a decade ago, maybe we need to take another break. And maybe he doesn’t want to resume any friendship, but just “punish” me instead by defending my past tormentors. Like I really need this shit right now in life when I’m struggling just to survive, never knowing if we’re going to make it or even be alive a month from now?! Really, why the hell is it so important to him to defend the old neighbors? And after all this time. I was the one who lived with them yet he’s so sure their noise was within normal everyday limits and that it was only during the daytime. If what happened with our old neighbors a decade ago bothers him so much then he can just fuck off, and I told him this, too. If not, then I guess I’ll just have to put him on ignore. I just don’t understand why he’d be so upset at what I thought, felt, believed, said or did to my own damn neighbors from way back when. I can see him harboring a grudge over something I said or did to him, but my neighbors?! My NEIGHBORS?!?! Maybe that’s the whole point in this; to get back at me, then get off on reading about it in my journal. He’s the one who said my entries were longer and more interesting since he started harassing me, so maybe that’s what this is all about, IDK. And maybe he’s full of shit when he says he’s been as successful as he has been. I hope not, though. I’d really love for him to be as happy and as well off financially as he said he is.

I live in the woods because I just want to live in peace and not fight with people. So if you feel you have to judge me and try to change me into what you think I should be, you’re wasting your time. I’m just going to ignore anyone who tries and send you straight to my spam box. Anyone who knows me knows I’m hard to gain as a friend but easy to lose. And I’m sick of being told how we should do things and that Tom’s wrong for not applying for jobs in person. Why should he waste time and gas just to be told to apply online?

He admitted that the prank calls were from him, but they weren’t meant to be pranks to harass me as Tom must’ve thought was the case. I guess he was playing parts of the tape I sent him where I’m pretending to be all furious with him and Tom took it as pranks. But Tom said we got “slammed” with calls and it cost him a lot of minutes to delete all the messages. Just how many times did he call and play this tape?

He pointed out that someone threatened me with coming over with a knife on Formspring, saying he never said that, and I believe him on that one. As I told him, he’s weird, mean and funny at times, but I’ve never known him to make threats. The knife could’ve been tied in with Maliheh or someone else entirely, but no one’s come to knife me, so I’m not worried about it.

Speaking of Formspring, I might shut it down since Andy and I are now keeping in touch by email, and no one seems to have anything to say or ask me lately.

What I don’t believe is the 6-page letter he wrote screaming at me that he said he sent right after we moved to a PO Box we once had in Tempe, AZ. Oh, I believe he sent the letter. But I don’t believe Tom would read it, decide it’s too nasty for me to know about, then ditch it. Tom wouldn’t have even opened it. He always brings me anything addressed to me unopened. Andy must have addressed the envelope wrong or it got misdelivered.

Since we’re on a mission to rehash the past, I had a dream last night that reminded me of something he did when we were in our 20s and living back east. Today I wouldn’t give a shit, but back then at that age, I was kind of hurt by something he said, but first, maybe I won’t shut down Formspring just yet after all. I just got a question alert and found someone warning me to stay away from Andy, saying he just wants to “get me,” etc. It’s not showing up yet, though. Formspring is always slow. Hmm… someone he knows? Well, they can’t know me very well. They spelled my name wrong.

I don’t know what to think at this point. sighs I don’t want to dump the guy again, but who the hell is he to judge me? Guess what I end up doing depends on him. I’ve already told him how I feel, so if he really wants me as a friend, he’ll just worry about his own self and quit telling me how I should’ve lived my life in 1999 and how Tom should live his now. Or maybe I’ll just never hear from him again.

About the dream. It was of Sharon W of all people, Norma’s daughter. In the dream, we were supposed to meet somewhere for some reason, but I don’t know where or why. I was on the phone with my mother before going to meet Sharon. She told me to respect her fame, and I was like what fame? She was a small-time singer, but she never got famous for anything.

I suspected that Sharon would be rather cold towards me because she believed I made prank calls to her mother many years ago, and because of all the years of being labeled as crazy, and she was. Had I still been young it would’ve bothered me, but being in my 40s, I found it rather amusing. “You think I’m just the craziest bitch you ever did meet, don’t you?” I taunted her with a grin. She just gave me a dirty look and ignored the question.

In real life when I was in my early to mid-20s, Andy told me that Norma told his mother she had received prank phone calls. I don’t know when she was supposed to have gotten them, but I guess Norma said that Sharon automatically suggested that I had made the calls. Today I would just laugh something like this off, but I was young back then and I took a lot of things personally. Today I care only about the feelings of those I care about. But if I don’t know you very well, I’m not going to sweat the fact that you may think I made calls I didn’t really make. Yet I called to defend myself back then. She apologized and all that, saying she should’ve gone to me first. I told her not to worry about it and that it was done and over with as far as I was concerned. But then Andy went and insisted to her that I really had made the calls. This really pissed me off too, that my supposed best friend wouldn’t take my word for it when I said that of all the people I had pranked in my life, Norma was not one of them. I never had a problem with Norma and so I never saw any reason to bother her. But the fact that Andy wouldn’t believe me and couldn’t see that I had absolutely nothing to gain by lying to him, a person who did the same thing back then, really upset me. He did later admit that he should take me for face value and quit being so quick to call me a liar, but it was too late by then when Norma was concerned. Norma will go to her grave fully believing that I pranked her and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Now onto more important things than someone who feels they have nothing better to do than stick up for my old Jew-hating neighbors who lived for tormenting me to no end. Marie texted me from the hospital last night. Her chest cold got really bad and caused her to get an ear infection and she felt really out of balance. Hopefully, she’ll rest up and let herself get better before she goes back to playing Wonder Woman. Really, that girl does too much, LOL!

Later…

pulls hair I’m losing a ton of work and story-writing time today with all the darn emails and phone calls I’ve been getting, LOL! The call turned out to be quite a pleasant surprise, though.

I started to get in some writing when the phone rang and I saw it was my parents calling. My first thought was that they’d heard all the shit that was going on in the news and were worried about us.

They were calling from the cell to use up minutes, so we talked one at a time. First mom talked with us and asked us about what stores and restaurants are in our area. I’m guessing they may want to send gift cards, but anyway, we told them we’ve got most of the major chains around us as well as what stores aren’t in her area and all that. Then she said she’d put Dad on to ask us other questions.

So Dad gets on and says, “You’ve sold things on eBay, right?”

Oh, yeah. We’re the eBay experts. :)

Haven’t sold anything recently, but I got rid of a good chunk of my doll collection that way and a bunch of other shit we didn’t want or need. And of course we once had an eBay store in Arizona.

My parents have a small store at a flea market that keeps them active and generates extra money for them. They haven’t been online for years because they didn’t use it enough and just couldn’t get used to the idea of virtual stores. They have a storage locker they’ve been cleaning out containing all kinds of stuff they didn’t get around to selling or that they just have no use for. Tom said it’s kind of sad that they’re doing this. In other words, preparing for the end, knowing they don’t have much time left. Yeah, it is sad. Some people have said that I shouldn’t pity them after past problems we’ve had, but it’s not that easy. I just hope we too, aren’t looking at a limited amount of time left, but if we are, we are.

For now, though, they’re sending 198 pre-2000 Beanie Babies to sell on eBay. At first I thought he was asking if we’d sell them for them and send them the profits, but he wants us to keep whatever we can get for them. This was really nice of them! So we’re researching things now and once we get them and see the items we’ll decide where and how to go about selling them. Opening a temporary eBay store might be our best bet right now, but eBay isn’t the only place to sell things. There’s also Amazon. We’ll just have to compare fees and things like that. We’re thinking we can maybe get $300 - $400 for them, but it won’t happen overnight. Meaning, it’s not going to be something we can sell off in a day. We’ll probably sell them in small lots too, as opposed to one at a time. We’ll also probably list back to back instead of simultaneously so people won’t ask for combined shipping.

Other than that, they’re doing well and have been in the 90s for over two months. They had the coldest winter they ever experienced, and now they’re having a super hot summer.

I was shocked to hear their electric bill was just $99 after having to run their AC all the time, plus they’ve got a hot tub outside. I’ve never been big on hot tubs. I could take them or leave them, but the heat we’ve been having sure makes me wish we had a pool! We could get a fairly good-sized inflatable for a couple hundred, but it’s not something we want to spend money on right now. Especially since we couldn’t use it year-round.

Andy got upset with me for telling him to fuck off if he has a problem with me and for not letting him get things off his chest. But that’s not what I have a problem with. What I have a problem with is when he gets on me for shit that doesn’t even pertain to him and he judges the way I’ve handled things. I don’t understand why the way I interacted with people years ago has anything to do with us and the present day and age. He says he’s on my side, but I don’t always feel that way. I feel like he’s judging me and trying to get me to shoulder the blame for things I’m simply not responsible for. I don’t think he gets that sometimes people really are victimized that didn’t ask for it or provoke anyone in any way into giving them the shit they give them.

He seems to think I’m all about revenge and not accepting blame where I should accept it, but that’s simply not true. When I was younger, like most younger people, I did tend to be more vindictive and selfish and less willing to own up to my mistakes. No one can “ground” or “punish” me for admitting to a mistake, so what have I got to fear in coming clean? I swear I don’t want to get even with every single person who wrongs me, and I don’t have a problem with admitting when I’ve made mistakes. If anything I’ve deserved just about everything I’ve ever gotten in life, and I’ve said this before. I don’t know what else he wants from me.

If someone went to attack me I’m going to try to fight back, but again, I don’t feel the need to get even with everyone that irritates me because I understand we’re all only human. I’d rather just not have anything to do with someone I may not like. Twenty years ago I had plenty of time to get even with someone that fucked with me. Today I’m just too busy and it’s just a whole lot easier to avoid people I don’t like.

It just really bothers me to be criticized and judged for the way I have lived or live my life today. Had he offered his opinion or a suggestion once, that’d be one thing. But it’s another to come off like you’re trying to get a person to be a certain way over and over again. What’s wrong for him may be right for someone else. That’d be like me condemning him for the way he went about quitting smoking or condemning the way he handled a fight with a coworker, for example. That’s between him and the coworker. Not me. Even if I don’t think he handled the person well, who the hell am I to judge him and tell him how to live his own life? It’s none of my business.

What I meant by the fuck off part was that he’s not obligated to stay in my life if he’s that unhappy with me. If he thinks I’m this cold-hearted, vengeful bitch that refuses to take the blame for anything, he shouldn’t bother with me. I won’t hold it against him if he wants to walk away. We can’t pick our family but we can pick our friends and he has a right to choose whoever he wants for friends same as he has a right to choose what clothes he buys.

I don’t want to dump him again, but I also don’t want him playing mommy to me either, scolding and judging my every move, be it something that pertains to him or not, or that happened in the past or right now. Maybe we should find a gray area between the black and white. Meaning, back off on the emails. I hate getting multiple emails every day from the same people anyway. Maybe it would be more special and we’d get along better if we backed off to once or twice a month. Of course, I also don’t have to read/respond to emails if I’m busy with other things at the time or just not in the mood.

Like I said, I just wish he’d be mad at the shit that involves us. He has every right to be upset with me for dumping him. That was wrong and it was 100% my fault. All of it. Totally, absolutely, completely my fault. I know some people would say I too, should have the right to pick and choose my friends, but he didn’t do anything wrong. Just get annoying at times. But so did I. And so that’s why it was wrong of me to dump him like I did.

Someone who’s apparently following my journal has been leaving messages on Formspring. I thought it was Andy playing around again at first, but I doubt he’d spell so poorly, misspell my name, and basically bash himself. Another mystery to ponder. Can’t tell if it’s someone who knows either of us or what their game is just yet. Maybe it’s a stranger simply stating their opinion, or maybe it’s someone one of us knows with a purpose in mind and woweeeeee!!! Andy just sent me some pictures of himself! Even with the extra weight that most mammals put on with age, he looks fanfuckingtastic!!! And still younger than his age too, and less gay looking, for whatever that may be worth to the guy, LOL. It’s so nice to have these. I have no other pictures of him cuz we had to leave so much stuff behind in Arizona.

So I guess that other than economic stress and Andy getting under my skin at least a little bit at times, the day wasn’t all bad. I just lost some work and story-writing time is all, and did I run my 1-3 miles today? No, of course not!

No NC hit today on Opera. Hmm… maybe it wasn’t Maliheh, after all. Or maybe she was just too busy to check my latest entry.

Tom was right. The temp agency did call. I’m just trying really hard not to get my hopes up. The woman told him they’d reactivate his file since he hasn’t worked for them for so long, and that if someone named Stacey doesn’t hire him for the Q & A job he applied for, he should keep calling every week to see if they’ve got anything else for him. Although I’m trying not to think too positively so I don’t end up all the more disappointed if things don’t work out, he’s totally qualified for one of the jobs he put in for. All the other jobs he’s put in for so far he was either somewhat qualified for or not at all qualified for. But this type of Q&A job is exactly what he was doing in Oregon minus the management part of it. I used to tease him by calling him a queer-ass manager till I knew that stood for quality assurance. Hey, my sister’s convinced my husband’s queer, so let’s hope he gets this queer-ass job!

Meanwhile, Operation Strike Out On Our Own has been a success so far. We’re trying to make $45 a day online. If we can, then it won’t matter if there’s no other source of income because $45 a day is all we need to survive. Technically we could probably make it with a little less. We would still prefer for him to get a regular job, but we wouldn’t have to kill ourselves to avoid starving in the streets if this works, and I wouldn’t worry nearly as much as I have been. Can’t say what it is we’re doing, though, cuz if it works many others would want to quit their jobs and do this too, unless they were either making good money or were one of the few lucky ones with health coverage they didn’t want to give up. The more people that do this, the fewer jobs for us, so I’m very selective as to who I discuss it with.

Think positive and you’ll be all the more disappointed if things don’t work out. Think negative and you’ll be all the more delighted if things do work out. I really believe this. So this is why I’m trying not to get overly optimistic. It’s hard, for obvious reasons, not to hope he gets something – anything – even if it were just a part-time minimum-wage job. With our online job, that’s all we need, and at this point in life, sure, having a lot of extra money would be nice, but it’s not crucial to me anymore. Just knowing we can pay the rent and buy groceries is enough for me. Anything after that is just a bonus. The only bad thing about this working out is that we wouldn’t have much of a life. We would literally have to work just about every waking moment, but just to know we could pull it off if we wanted to would be wonderful. Especially since I don’t expect any more money from the government.

Got another Hope Mills, NC hit on my Opera blog. If it’s Maliheh, why has she returned? Just out of curiosity? To see if I’d mention it? Although I’m not sure she knows I can see who visits me there. Some other reason? IDK, maybe it’s not even her, though it seems unlikely that it isn’t. What are the odds of her “reacting” on Facebook to certain things I’ve said in my journal, then getting an NC hit after providing a link in which I claim to have a picture of her? I did, however, “decide” later on that the picture wasn’t of her. Either way, I’d guess it’s safe to say she’s following me out of sheer curiosity, LOL, cuz she certainly doesn’t want to be friends. She never accepted my friend invite.

Fell asleep last night shortly before midnight and woke up at 4:30 thinking I was going to puke for the first time since 1997, but fortunately, I didn’t. We’re thinking something must’ve been bad in the Chinese food I got yesterday at the grocery store.

I woke up nauseous as hell and my mouth was watery as hell, too. Knowing that cold air helps, I stuck my face in an open window. Only problem is that while it’s almost always cold at 4:30 in the morning here, it’s been warm all around for the last 4 days or so. But luckily it subsided almost as fast as it came on and I was able to get back to sleep without incident. Today my tummy still feels a little shaky, but it’s the least of my concerns. Puking may be the worst feeling in the world, but I’d gladly up and puke right now if it could mean a job for Tom.

I’ve got to get back to running today. I took the last two days off and my hip has been noticeably worse ever since. Lately, I’ve had this pain in my right hip that shoots down to my knee. Hope it’s not the beginning of arthritis!

Marie returned from her trip to New Hampshire after having a stomach virus turn into a nasty chest cold, the poor thing. I’ll be looking forward to hearing about the trip once she’s better.

Andy gave me an email address to contact him at. I did and he replied by saying that he hopes I have a better day today. Well, I’m better than I have been, though nothing’s actually changed yet and we still could be doomed in the end.

He said he started reading a book I wrote for him in 2007, which I can’t quite remember. As I told him, my memory ain’t what it used to be. I remember writing something rather extensive, but I’ve been writing extensive things most of my life. I’m a writer. It’s what I do. I’m surprised he hasn’t thrown everything I ever gave him away for not giving him our number and address when we moved.

I will start chapter 20 today of Digital Confessions, then maybe – just maybe – I will live long enough to get to Evil Amongst the Evergreens.

Dorian seems to prefer being referred to as Blue, as Paul seems to prefer Mitch, so they will be Blue and Mitch from now on. Blue read my entry yesterday where I said that no one cared to wish my husband a happy birthday and how much that upset me, then he replied by wishing him a happy birthday. That was so sweet of him!

Today’s Tom’s 53rd birthday and what I’m fearing more and more is going to be his last. He keeps telling me everything will be alright, but will it? How can he possibly know that? The government stopped sending our checks and he has no job, so how is everything to be alright?

I know this is the beginning of the end, and like I said, I’m ok with it because I know life never could have been what we wanted it to be anyway. Had I thought we had a real shot at a modest home that was at least mostly peaceful, then I’d be pissed. Don’t get me wrong. I’m still pissed. I’m plenty pissed at God, society and life in general for giving so much to some people simply for breathing while we’ve worked our asses off for nothing.

But once we’re gone God can never hurt us again, or allow anything else to do so either. There are no guarantees that the afterlife if there is one, won’t be a lot worse, but there will be no more pain and suffering for us here. Right now we’re healthy. We have a roof over our heads and food in our stomachs. We aren’t the homeless guy pushing a shopping cart down the street, but if we don’t off ourselves when the money runs out, that’s exactly what we will be, and that’s not something I’m tough enough to handle. Not for even a few days, let alone 730 days which is when the pension would have kicked in.

All I can do for now is just enjoy what time is left. It’s not easy, though. I’m having a hell of a time motivating myself. All I want to do is just lie around or listen to music.

I did, however, make a lot of progress on my book yesterday. That much I’m determined to finish before I go, though I don’t see the point in continuing with my language studies. It kind of sucks that I won’t live long enough to learn more and lose more weight, so I’m just focusing on what I’m not going to miss at all. I’ll never again shiver through another winter or have to listen to 10 hours of barking each day as the weather cools down. I don’t know why, but like I’ve said before, the colder the weather, the more the dogs go crazy when Jesse’s not home. Soon there’ll be no more stress and constant worries about how we’re going to make ends meet. I’m tired of being beaten over the head with money! I never wanted to get old and to have to deal with arthritis, cancer and other nightmares that come with old age, knowing we’d have absolutely no one to help take care of us once we got too old to do so ourselves. So there’s just as much to not miss as there is to miss, and unless a miracle breaks between now and about a month from now, there’s not much anyone can really do to save us. Well, there is. It’s just that those who could do something don’t give a damn. It’s more important for the church to raise millions of dollars to control who marries who than it is to help people like my husband and I. And it’s more important for the government to send our money to other countries than to help those in need right here. You know that.

Anyway, to try to take my mind off what seems to be an impending death by carbon monoxide poisoning, I’m trying to distract myself from reality through music, writing and sleeping as much as I can. Been taking Benadryl every day. It knocks me out a little earlier and makes me sleep longer. Man, I WISH I could sleep till the end! I can totally see why so many people killed themselves during the Great Depression. People are quick to call them cop-outs, but they obviously just didn’t understand the hell they were going through. No, things don’t always work out, and yeah, sometimes we really are dealt more than we can handle.

IDK, maybe this is a good thing. Maybe fate’s leading us to the end because there’s going to be either nothing at all or a fanfuckingtastic afterlife waiting for us. Just don’t feel sad, mad or sorry for us. Every curse has its blessing. Every blessing has its curse.

My story is about 52K long now, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to stretch it to full length. Why is it that I can ramble on and on in journal entries, but never think of enough things to keep a story going for long? I could throw in trivial things to keep it going, but that’d be boring. It seems I just don’t need 100K - 200K words to tell whatever story I’m telling. I guess I was just meant to be a short story writer.

Later…

Just finished chapter 19 as Tom’s birthday slowly winds down to an end. He doesn’t appear bothered, but it’s sad to see no one give a damn about him. Not his mother, not his sister, not anyone. I’m glad he at least has me, but still, not one person cared to send a card, an email, or give him a call. Not one. One of the finest human beings I ever met and no one cares.

The weather’s been hot and dry and just over 100º.

Emotionally, I’m still a bit of a rollercoaster. One minute I’m pissed, the next sad, then nervous, then I go numb. Sometimes I just want to die, but sometimes I want to live and beat life at its own fucked up game. It’s easy for me to scream, “Damn God to hell for doing this to us or at least letting it happen!” but I know things could be worse. If we were still living paycheck to paycheck like we were for a while, we’d already be screwed big time. Maybe even dead. But I’m tired of money being an issue and the stress and hardships that go with it every single fucking day of my life!!! After all these years, why should I think things will ever change? Every time we start to get ahead, we get kicked back down. If this happened occasionally I’d call it life. But because it happens all the time I’d call it an obvious and scary pattern that says it’s just the way it’s meant to be. Something up there wants to torment us to no end, especially me since I stress a lot easier than Tom does.

Tom explained to me why he thinks things will work out, when we’ll get our money, etc, and in the midst of it, he told me about yet another person we never met who died who is only adding to our stress. It’s one of the politicians that’s fucking with people’s lives. Why is it that some stranger’s death has to put us out while our deaths wouldn’t put a single person out whatsoever? My parents would be sad for a while and Jesse would have to have our bodies hauled away and our shit packed up and dumped, but that’s the extent of it. If anything our deaths would be a bit profitable. We may not be rich in cash but we are rich in collectibles, gadgets and electronics. Remember, my job was once to win sweeps and contests before the economy went to hell and never came back.

All I know is I’m just sick of our lives coming down to one big vote. Everything is all about voting; things that shouldn’t even be a matter of voting. I’m tired as hell of politicians, society and whoever else being in the driver’s seat of our lives! All we do is get stuck in one endless rut after another! We want so badly to move on, but life just won’t let us.

And of course the fucking politicians are going on vacation like they do every other week and that could mean additional stress time for me while they’re out having fun and living it up at our expense. Meanwhile, nothing that I myself have ever done – not that I’d want it to – could ever have any kind of serious effect, control or power over anyone else. Why is that? Why am I one of society’s designated little slaves? Well, I don’t want to control other people’s lives or anything like that or put them out in any way. I only wish to hell they’d let my husband and I decide how to live our own lives! Starting with a job – just a lousy fucking job – would be really nice. But no, that’s too much to ask for. It’s always too much if it’s us asking for it. Again, why is that??? Why are we any less deserving than the next guy?

I’m not going to get into it now because I’m too frustrated, but tomorrow we’re going to try something in an attempt to break free of these chains God/society/politicians/life/whatever has put on us. I meant it when I said I doubted life could ever be what we want it to be, but still, if it works, then California can take their fucking jobs and shove them way, way up their asses. :) And the government can go fuck themselves right along with them. :)

Another day of hating to wake up and face our incredibly bleak-looking future. I almost didn’t write today because I have been too depressed. Yesterday, though, I was oddly calm. I wasn’t depressed, pissed or scared. I even laughed a few times.

But our fate is still etched in stone. The stage has been set and things are going to be set into motion soon, and there won’t be a damn thing we can do about it. Not unless something miraculous happens real soon after hopelessly trying to return to the land of the living for the last 20 months. Oh, didn’t I tell you? Miracles don’t happen to Tom and Jodi. They really don’t. And as sad as it may sound, a part of me is hoping they don’t. I don’t want to spend another 30-40 years working hard just to be rewarded with all kinds of struggles and hardships, never to achieve any of our dreams while we’re at it. We’d only be miserable most of the time and forced to live a life of settling. So I’m ok with the end if the end is as near as it appears to be. We’re estimating we can make it for about another month.

They say God has a hand in guiding us down the paths we travel in life. If that’s true, then He really could’ve done a better job in preventing a lot of the bullshit we went through from happening. Had the house Tom been in when we met been a little bigger, a little newer, a little nicer, and definitely a hell of a lot quieter, we’d probably still be there today and the house would have been paid off years ago.

Or He could’ve helped make sure we never lost the Maricopa house. There are a number of things He could have done to help us. But He didn’t. He just didn’t care to help us help ourselves choose a better path in life. Instead, He pretty much took our hands and led us in all the wrong directions.

All I know is that if nothing gives between now and a month from now, we’re positively screwed. Either the government has to make good on their promise to pay us the money they owe us, or someone has to give my husband a job. These are the only ways to survive other than winning tons of money and that’s certainly not going to happen. Meanwhile, we’ll see if he’s right about the temp agency he used to work for calling him in for an interview tomorrow, even though I’ve learned that interviews don’t mean shit if no one hires you. The work world belongs to the young and the not-so-white, and so what if my husband has tons of experience and qualifications? Dark skin and youth are still preferred over anything else these days in this country. Still think the good old U. S. of A. is the best country?

So smile, God, we just may be in your little kingdom soon. :) You gonna beat us over the head with money there, too?

I realize my saying these things about God may piss some people off, but I don’t want to hear it, ok? Just move on to someone else’s journal if it bothers you that much. We all have a right to our own beliefs and it’s ok to disagree. So let’s just accept the fact that we can’t always agree on things and leave it at that. I don’t try to cram my beliefs down other people’s throats and I expect the same respect in return.

Even if we got the money owed to us in time, as Tom totally believes we will, we still have to go back to worrying about whether or not we can beat the clock. Tom can fill out every single job application in the world, but we can’t make anyone give him a job.

Meanwhile, I guess I should live as if the end isn’t near and keep plugging away at my online job even though it doesn’t make much. But something is better than nothing, isn’t it?

In other news, the water pressure was sluggish yesterday, and I thought great, just great. We’re going to be spending what may be our last month on earth dealing with this shit. So Jesse came down and checked things out, but once he saw we had no leaks or anything, he went and checked out the well. Everything at least appeared to be ok, but he switched us over to the ditch to allow the main tank time to recover.

The good thing is that he doesn’t think he got that job down in L.A. This way I won’t have to worry about him being 400 miles away in case of an emergency. He’s never home as it is, but is usually just a phone call away.

Another good thing is the weather. It’s hot and dry like I like it and we’ve finally been able to leave windows open all the time. It’s to hit 100º today which is fine with me! I’m sure I’ll be the only one in Auburn, California to squeal with delight once the thermometer does hit 100º, and it’s close. Just 5 more degrees to go.

I don’t want to get into much detail right now, so don’t ask, but it looks like the end may be closer than I thought and we very well might be on our last 4 or 5 hundred dollars, then it’s bye-bye for good. The government claims they’re going to send us the 5 grand they still owe us, but I know our lovely government can’t always be trusted.

It’s ok, though, if our time really is up soon. Amidst some disasters, I got to do a lot of fun and interesting things in my life, and it really doesn’t matter much if I die at 44, 64, or 84 when you really think about it because there’s always going to be things we’ll miss and things we won’t miss no matter when we die. I’ll miss some people and some things I like to do, but I won’t miss an awful lot of shit as well.

I’m not saying our number’s up for sure. I’m just saying it looks that way right now. Enough that I’ll probably quit my online job soon and even quit dieting and exercising. I don’t even know if I’ll continue my language studies. If I’m going to go soon I want to spend my last days doing things I enjoy. On the other hand, I enjoy languages and running, so maybe I’ll keep at it.

I will focus mostly on music and writing, but if we can’t make it past the next few weeks, then I probably won’t finish Digital Confessions and I definitely won’t get to Maliheh’s story.

Maliheh called again and tried to cheer me up. As I told her, I really appreciate her efforts, but nothing she can say will change whatever’s meant to happen. I said and did some mean things 19 years ago and just recently online until I realized it wasn’t her playing with me on Formspring and I’m sorry. But I’m glad that in the end we finally got to work things out and move on.

“If the end has truly come for you, what are you going to do?” she asked me.

I said, “I’m going to pick my last meal just like death row inmates do. Mine’s going to be lobster. Then we’ll probably gamble our last $100 or so in a casino and leave it to fate to save us if it wants to.”

Tom, on the other hand, thinks he’s going on an interview on Monday. The temp company he used to work for had a few jobs he’s qualified for that he applied for, and so he thinks that as soon as their computer flags him as having worked for them before, they’ll at least want to see him even if they don’t hire him.

Yeah, whatever.

Paula’s sending $10 for me to make her up some CDs. No problem. I just hope she sends it before we go if we truly do end up going. Like I said, though, I don’t know for sure that this is it for us. It just looks that way right now and I don’t want to discuss it anymore. I just want to kick back, relax and live it up till it’s over. If it’s not over, then fine, life will proceed as planned.

Later…

El Cocko’s back on his summer watering sprees, not realizing – or giving a damn – that it cuts our water pressure down. He roared out on the motorcycle at 8:30 and I doubt he’ll be back till after dark. I just hope he doesn’t do this shit while he’s at work.

I just heard from Marie. She made it safe and sound to New Hampshire and says I didn’t have to delete her email from the blog (she was complaining about all the repetitious Maliheh entries). She just wishes she could be here to comfort me. And I appreciate that, as I told her, but I not only planned to take a break from writing elsewhere but there’s only so much her comfort can do. Not that it wouldn’t be nice, but as I reminded her, what’s going to happen is going to happen whether she comforts me or not. Tom and I can only do what’s within our power and control to try to make things better. The rest is up to fate, like it or not. Fate. That’s always what it comes down to no matter how hard we may try to achieve or change things on our part. Fate. It’s such an evil word in some ways.

And so are scorpions. You know, the ones I thought I left behind in the desert along with the fucking tarantulas. Guess it goes to prove that we can run, but we can’t always hide. The past will be back to haunt us anyway. It was in the kitchen. At first I thought it was a weird-shaped spider, but as I got a little closer to it, I could see it was a small scorpion – yuck!

We both got up as the sun was coming up. At one point I was in the bathroom when I heard water dripping. I checked the faucets, but they weren’t dripping any more than usual. Then I looked at the window which was partially open and saw water running down the screen. My first thought was that the cooler sprung a leak and Tom went out to check it out. He came back a second later and said it was raining. If we were allowed to live in a peaceful place where we didn’t have to have sound machines going all the time just to be able to concentrate on whatever, I’d have heard the rain falling. It was just a quick light rain, but once again, the weather’s been so damn freaky here! It rarely rains here between now and September or October.

Tom read that in a few years, they’re going to have an evaporative cooler that can be used even in humid climates. I told my folks it’s too bad they couldn’t have one. They’re so much cheaper than ACs and I love how they pump in fresh air instead of circulating the same air.

Haven’t heard much from Eileen. I know she’s a busy person, but a part of me wonders if my stories may’ve scared her off. Then again, if mine could scare anyone, then Stephen King wouldn’t have any friends at all.

Later…

Here’s an entry I can’t post online as I’m writing it right now on 6/25/10, but I will post it right before we die, as it looks like the end could be a hell of a lot closer than even I realized. Before I get on with it, these final words of mine – if that’s what they truly end up being - are NOT to piss anyone off or to make them feel guilty or upset in any way! That is NOT my intention.

The fucking state had to get federal funding and so they only sent us one week’s worth of unemployment instead of the usual two week’s worth they’d send us every other week. I thought Tom was saying they were going to send the week they owed us, plus the next regular check within a few days to a couple of weeks, but apparently, they’re not sending us anything else till they send us our next round of forms whenever they happen to feel like sending them, plus that week owed to us. And of course they neglected to let people know about it until the day they were supposed to send the last round of checks. And of course my ever-so-trusting and optimistic husband believes we will get the money soon enough. But I’m not so sure, and I’m also not so sure I even want to. I just don’t know that I want to bother living anymore and this is why I’m writing this now; in case we don’t make it.

I guess I’d prefer to live, but do I? Do I really? Do I really want to live when I know life could never be what we wanted it to be anyway? Do I really want to live just to struggle another 30-40 years in someone else’s tiny old rental, never to get our dream home or have any kind of financial security? I don’t think so. If we could get a decent house without having to listen to hours and hours of barking and struggle to make ends meet, then sure. But this is obviously just a dream.

Tom said we could declare a hardship if the checks stop before the jobs return and cash out on at least some of our pension, but I’m not interested. That would not only sink any hope of buying a place right there, but we couldn’t make it between the time the checks stopped and the pension money came. These things usually take months.

I’m still sad, scared and mad – definitely mad – but the thought of ending it all appeals to me like never before. It no longer seems the terrifying, devastating thing it was in 2007 when it looked like we weren’t going to make it and would be forced to choose between death or starving on the streets till my parents helped us. Does it really matter whether I die at 44, 64 or 84 when there are always going to be things I’ll miss about life as much as there’ll be things I won’t miss at all?

No one we know could possibly help bail us out this time around if we really are on the last 4 or 5 hundred dollars of our lives, which is all we currently have right now. I don’t trust the government one minute when they say they’re going to pay us the 5K that’s owed to us and carry on from there on out, and you know what? I hope I’m right. If we don’t go now, we’ll only have to go in a few months, so why delay the inevitable?

I’m no longer dieting or working the Turk and I may even quit exercising. I don’t want to spend my final weeks or months (whichever it is) doing things I don’t enjoy. I don’t even know that I’ll bother to finish my story or continue with my language studies. All I want to do is sleep, eat and listen to music till the end comes. But I can’t put this online right now because I’m not going to be dumb enough to risk intervention. If we’re going to go we’re GOING. Period. We’re not going to risk surviving so we can go on to have worse lives than we already have. I’ve been there before (after I jumped and broke my arm) and I’m not going to be there again. We’re not going to do anything for the sake of attention, though I’m sure there’ll be those who will insist we killed ourselves merely for attention. There’ll also no doubt be those who will be quick to call us cop-outs, saying that if we just hung on a little longer – just a little longer – things would’ve gotten better. But we DID hang on! For over 20 fucking months!

All I want to do at this point is just get it the fuck over with and get out of here. I’m ready to take the chance that there could be an afterlife awaiting me that might be much worse than being on the streets in this life. I hope my death isn’t slow and painful and that I don’t go on to a place worse than this, but I’m going to die someday anyway, and I’d rather it be together in the comfort of our own bed than on the streets in some cold, dark alley with our stomachs growling with hunger.

We will die from carbon monoxide poisoning. We don’t have a garage, so we’ll light some charcoal in the bedroom after sealing ourselves up in it. We’ll leave a note in the kitchen for Jesse. He might want to smash the bedroom windows from the outside to let the fumes out, though maybe they’ll dissipate by then. I don’t know how these things work. I only know that if all goes well it will shut our brains down right away and be a faster and less painful way to go.

I’m sorry Jesse will have to deal with this and I appreciate his letting us split the rent payments, but I did NOT appreciate all the barking and his lame excuse of “When I’m not home there’s nothing I can do about it.” Sorry, but there WERE a few things he could have done, and like it or not, dog owners ARE just as responsible for their dogs when they’re not home as when they are home.

I just want to take the last couple hundred dollars, get a lobster at Red Lobster, gamble off the rest at one of the casinos, then end it all in what I totally believe would be a quicker, less painful way than the streets would have been.

Tom filled out all the applications he could. But we couldn’t make anyone give him a job in the end.

I figured all the bad dreams I’ve been having had to have meant something. I don’t always dream good dreams before something good happens, but I always have nightmares before bad things happen.

I’m tired of feeling like a child whose life belongs to society, fate, God…whatever. We’re suffering because of these fucking greedy bankers in which enough was never enough. How many fucking fancy cars and houses would have ever been enough for them? How many?!?! Do they even care about the millions of lives they’ve destroyed? Does God? No, I’m sure He doesn’t. I’m sure He’s blessed them with lifelong good fortune. Geez, maybe I should’ve been a bad person. I mean a REALLY bad person. After all, they seem to be the ones to get it all. Maybe if I’d had a kid to abuse I’d have all the money in the world, or at least enough to keep me from worrying so damn much of the time. Maybe if I’d killed someone I’d win a nice new house.

I may’ve made some accomplishments in life and had my fun moments, but most of my life has been nothing but a tale of woe and rejection. And in the end, it consisted of a government that cared more about “bailing out” other countries rather than taking care of its own. And now thanks to the Republicans, greedy bankers, God, and whoever/whatever else may’ve had a hand in this, my husband will never have the home we wanted. Just a lousy fucking home was all we wanted. Nothing fancy, nothing special, just an ordinary home with an ordinary life where we didn’t have to struggle and where I didn’t have to run sound machines to drown out my neighbor’s fucking dogs that are left to bark for hours each day. But all this was too much to ask for. If it was ME asking for it, it was too much. Getting a job and eventually a modest home in a peaceful place was just a dream. We might as well have been asking for a million bucks. My sister was right in saying this dingy trailer was all we had in life. We had each other’s love too, but without money, that love couldn’t possibly matter because the cold hard fact is that without money, one can’t live. Period. Money really does make the world go around, like it or not. I wish the evil thing had never been invented. Money kills. And it killed us.

I don’t know why God cared to bless the rest of my family and Tom’s family with homes and money. They may not be rich, but they never had to struggle a fraction of the degree that we did. Not even close. We were just as capable and deserving as them and the next guy, but God obviously didn’t think so.

But it’s ok. Don’t feel sad. I really did prefer death over the streets, or else I’d be out there right now, hungrily trudging through some alley waiting till I collapsed with hunger. But my husband and I both agreed we deserved better than that, and that was death, and we both wanted to go together and not leave the other behind. I never would’ve been tough enough to handle the streets. I’m just not as tough as people thought I was.

I’m sorry I couldn’t find it in my heart to forgive my brother, sister and the people in Arizona that screwed us so bad. I couldn’t even forgive Tom’s mother for abandoning us in a previous time of need and deciding she no longer wanted to be a mother to my husband and a mother-in-law to me.

While I can’t make my nieces acknowledge the fact that they said some pretty mean things to me and harassed me for months online, I hold no ill feelings toward them.

My brother told me up front he wasn’t going to get involved in any family disputes when he decided to waltz back into our lives in the mid-90s. Then his son died. And while that was a horrible thing, he used that as an excuse to shit on the family every chance he got, pitting various family members against others, etc. I dumped him as soon as he started sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. I was so pissed! Just furious! And ever so glad I did not live near him for I would have ripped him to shreds. Not even his generous height and weight could’ve saved him from my wrath! But I will try to remember the good times in the end, and there were some good times. My brother had a great sense of humor.

As for my sister – I’m sorry, I just don’t believe her. I tried and tried to look for all kinds of other possibilities, but regardless of which one called the cops on me, she STILL had a hand in leading the Jew-hating freeloaders to our door who were hell-bent on legally screwing me in a day, time, age and state that they knew they could do so and get away with it. She STILL sent the letter she sent to my husband in defense of her abusive ex. She STILL called him and defended him by phone, too. I don’t know, maybe she didn’t call the cops. Maybe she meant it when she said she didn’t know where we lived at the time, but one of them, be it her or Bill, had to know where to send the damn pigs in the first place, didn’t they?

But at the time I didn’t understand what I do now about women who love and are attracted to abusive men and how they subconsciously seek them out and all that, etc. The point is the same, right or wrong, I stuck up for her and I ended up in jail. Not for sticking up for her, but for the freeloaders. Had she not turned on those trying to help her, we never would’ve known there was a warrant for my arrest at the time (we had no mail service where we lived) in the first place. And eventually, the statute of limitations would have expired. It’s a shame our relationship as sisters had to end the way it did. We were actually kinda close in the end, despite how different we were. But some things just aren’t forgivable. And I don’t think forgiveness is something we can choose. I think it’s like with our orientations and what flavors and colors we like. Which basically means it’s not something we can consciously choose. We can hope, but I don’t think we can choose. At least I know I never could. I have forgiven almost everyone who’s ever wronged me. It’s just my siblings, uncles, Tom’s mom and our old neighbors I can’t forgive. That alone may seem like a lot, but again, it’s not something I have much control over. I would never accept Jenny C back as a friend. She was just too selfish and bossy for me. But I forgave her years ago. Why, I do not know. Why did I forgive Maliheh B for breaking my heart in such a rude, mean and totally uncalled-for manner, and for making the same prank calls that only I was dragged into court for? Would an apology from those I couldn’t forgive have made a difference? I don’t know. But I do know that it’s kind of hard to forgive someone who doesn’t believe they did wrong in the first place.

I’m sorry to put our deaths on my folks and those friends – cyber and not – that cared about me/us, but I know they’ll get over it. Just please try to look on the bright side of our deaths, and believe it or not, every dark thing in life really does have its shiny spot. We would have only gone on to struggle, we’d have continued to worry, and like I said, the idea of spending the rest of my life in someone else’s noisy rental didn’t sit well with me. We probably wouldn’t have been insured till we were 65, and well, I never did want to grow old. No one would’ve been there to take care of us once we got to the point where we couldn’t take care of ourselves.

Maybe when we’re dead God will explain why He’s had it in for us for so long and why He favors some people over others and blesses some with better lives than others. Why do celebrities make millions of dollars just to act in a movie? I can act just as well. In fact, it’s the one and only thing I’m just about perfect at. I’m a good dancer, a good singer, a good writer, and good with languages, but I’m an excellent actress. I don’t know why. It’s just the way it is. But how come? Why are they lavished with millions simply for acting in a movie? Acting is easy. We’re not all good at it, but it’s easy. Try writing books such as I have. That’s way more work than acting in a movie. So where were MY millions? My husband had all kinds of sophisticated computer and electronic knowledge. Where were HIS millions? Seriously, I hope I get to turn the tables and beat HIM over the head with the fucking stuff for once, and shove money bills down His throat and ask, “Why?!?! Why, you mother-fucker?! Why did you leave us no choice but to kill ourselves, knowing full well I could never have made it on the streets?! Here, choke on the shit, you fucking bastard! Much in the way you made my husband and I choke on the fucking shit!”

As I said, every dark side has its bright side. I’ll no longer have to worry about poverty or any illnesses or injuries I might have gotten. I’ll no longer have to live in a sick, twisted world that legally discriminates against people who are every bit as good – if not better – as everyone else. I’ll no longer have to sit and watch Tom’s hard-earned tax dollars from his working days go to lazy welfare bums and terrorists in other countries. I’ll no longer have to watch blacks get away with hate crimes simply for what “might” have happened a century ago. I’ll no longer have to hear in the news about some kid who was beaten by his mother over and over again only to be returned to her one last time before she kills him. Really, I’m tired of life’s unfairness. I’m tired of seeing good things happen to bad people, and bad things happen to good people. It’s like God WANTS life to be unfair, wrong, twisted, backward, and just plain sick. And so unless some miracle happens that I can’t see (but you can believe me when I say that miracles don’t happen to Tom and Jodi S), we will be dead soon enough.

Never once has God made anyone who’s ever wronged me – in a big way or a small way – pay for it. Never once. That leaves only me to have to deal with them. It’s up to me to take care of them because no one else is going to. God isn’t, the law isn’t, no one is. No, I’m not going to go after anyone before I die. Too risky. No one’s worth going to prison for and death is better than prison as it is the streets. But if there’s even the slightest chance I can haunt them from the other side – those that have REALLY burned me bad – you can bet I won’t hesitate! So just because I may be gone, don’t assume we’re done for I just may be back. :)

Joely N and Michael M were the black freeloaders who lived next to us in Phoenix and vandalized our property, along with blasting music constantly. We could not eat, sleep, think or even piss in peace. In exchange for complaining to the city, the Jew-hating, vindictive assholes had their cop friend, Jerry O, also black, type a threatening letter (if it wasn’t one they received from someone else they pissed off) in which he got my fingerprints on during our little interrogation by thrusting it into my hands. He knew I’d made pranks and threats before, so I was the perfect one to set up, and then my being so naïve to the law was further taken advantage of and I was railroaded like crazy. I was tricked and manipulated into pleading guilty for something I wasn’t even charged with. They never told us about most of their “evidence,” all falsified, until right before sentencing. I truly believed at the time I was being sentenced for writing about them in my journal, in which they pulled copies from out of our recycle bin and altered and added in all kinds of threats and racial slurs, determined to play the race card and turn it into a racial issue. And so I was made to look like the bad one and I lost half a year of my life and thousands of dollars. Forget about all the stress, rage and frustration I went through on account of these people’s hatred. So God help these people if my spirit is free to “visit” whomever I want to in the afterlife. God help them! And Paul, my wonderful lawyer who put on the most pitiful performance in court, and Judge H, who went along with the DA and her INSANE sentence. Wife-beaters don’t even usually get 6 months!!!

Tom was my compensation for those who were abusive to me, be it verbally, emotionally, physically or legally. But never was I compensated in other areas I was lacking in life. Never.

So many people were always quick to point out my weaknesses, but rarely my strengths. The newspapers back east were quick to write all about the prank calls I made. But whoever wrote about when I quit smoking other than myself?

I could never have proven, though I wish to hell I could have, that I was wrongly jailed in 2000, then slandered by the media. But what if I could have? Do you think the Arizona Republic would’ve been quick to shout THAT from the rooftop?

Tom begged me not to go alone, insisting he would be sent to prison no matter how obvious it looked like suicide and not murder, and I laughed. I fucking threw myself out a window when I was 17 and no one cared. I was punished for it instead and treated as if I’d just tried to kill a dozen people. Believe me, they made me wish to hell I had succeeded! No one who had a hand in influencing me to jump was ever made to pay for it, so why would my husband, who would have absolutely nothing to do with it, be made to pay? He’s just as much of a victim as I am. Then again, I just got through saying how unfair life is, didn’t I? So yeah, we will go together. He wouldn’t want to live without me anyway, any more than I would want to live without him.

Should we smash our stuff before we die so no one can get what was ours? Nah, I don’t care about our stuff or what happens to our bodies and neither does Tom. We won’t be needing them anymore, so it really doesn’t matter. I just wanted to have my final say is all. People are going to choose to believe or not believe what they want, and they’re going to make all kinds of assumptions, and that’s ok. I expect and accept that. People will say we didn’t try hard enough to find work, we didn’t fight hard enough to live, and that’s ok. Say what you want, think what you want. We know the truth.

Some are probably asking themselves, “Couldn’t they have borrowed money from someone?” But no, we couldn’t have. Tom’s family wouldn’t have given a shit about us if they could’ve afforded to help us, and I think they could have, and my folks have had major expenses with having to pay for medical costs and needs that aren’t provided by Medicare. Besides, they don’t have much longer to go themselves and we couldn’t have gone running to them every time the shit hit the fan.

I hate to bring up any horrible memories, but it’s kind of like with the 911 attacks. Those that jumped knew they’d be burned to death if they didn’t. And most of us would no doubt rather jump than burn. While Tom may make it for a while, I’d certainly burn on the streets in no time. And so I have chosen to jump rather than burn because that is our only two choices. If I didn’t have a sleeping disorder and could at least get a bed every night in a shelter, I might’ve been able to make it a while, but getting beds in shelters is very hard to do what with how few beds there are compared to homeless people.

“You’re so smart.” “You’re so talented.” These are things I’ve heard many times throughout my life. And while it was true that I didn’t know it all, I’d say that yeah, I knew more than your average Joe Shmoe and Jane Doe. I played instruments, I could draw, I could dance, and I got to be a pretty damn good singer after quitting smoking, believe it or not, after being the worst singer in the world as a kid. Really, I got to be about an 8. Not bad. Not bad at all. I did some skating, I could act, and I was familiar with a dozen languages. But you know what? In the end, none of it mattered. Not one single bit of it meant shit. I may as well have been dumber than a newborn.

When they first took me to Florence jail in 2000 and I spent those 12 hours there, I couldn’t help but feel like something was preparing me for something. And it was. It was preparing me for the half a year I would spend in the Phoenix jail. Something up there was showing me – See? It’s not like on TV. People aren’t going to be raping and beating the shit out of you, so don’t worry. It’ll be hard, but you’ll survive.

Same with what happened at the motel in 2007. It was preparation. It wasn’t just to reconnect my parents and I, and it wasn’t a reprieve. It was just an extension. One to help get me “used” to the idea, if you will, of staring death in the face.

I’m sorry, Marie. I know you loved me and I appreciate you caring for me the way you did, but I assure you it would have been much, much easier to say you’d help us than to actually do it. Maybe if we weren’t so far away, but we were. I know you meant well, though. I hope you find that special someone someday.

To Andy: I’m sorry I wasn’t a better friend to you. I hope you continue to have the success you’ve been having.

Will I go to heaven or hell? Will I be reincarnated? Something else? Nothing at all? I don’t know the answer, but I guess that if God had planned all along to send me to hell because I had a few girlfriends before meeting Tom, wouldn’t He do that no matter when and how I died? Well, either way, I’m going to find out what happens when we die soon enough and I guess they’ll add my name on legacy.com. I was born in 1965, btw.

I’m still scared of the actual dying process. I’m scared of what may lay beyond. I’m a little sad and a lot mad. But I have to die someday anyway, and I’d rather go on my terms than on the terms of a bunch of sick greedy bankers and a bunch of fucking twisted politicians who put themselves first, other countries second, and their own people last! They’re the ones to blame along with the God above who sat back and let it all happen. Yeah, congratulations, assholes, for right along with the bastard in the sky, you have managed to help kill my husband and I. I hope you’re happy.