Welcome weekday pig worries…

Not!

Still not sure what to think where they’re concerned, but trying not to worry. It’s just not easy when you have a dream where someone knocks on the door and you say to your husband, “That’s 3 times this week.”

But was it the pigs? Or was it just the Jes pest?

Anyway, I won’t let them get me. I won’t. Not unless they kick their way in here and physically drag me outa here. They seem to have forgotten me, but that may be what they want me to think. Months can go by before the pigs come at you again whether you deserve them to or not and I definitely haven’t done anything to deserve their attention. That’s part of what makes this a little scary. Imagine if I had actually done something.

I saw that Molly made a few posts from her local library and her mother even emailed Alison to say that she would be getting back the computer she took away from her for badmouthing people online and making threats and to let her know if she says anything she shouldn’t be saying.

She’s not appearing on my tracker, but the library may have their cookies turned off.

sighs They say a mother’s love is unconditional. Well, usually it is unless you’re someone like Casey Anthony. But not everything and anyone deserves to be loved unconditionally if you ask me. Especially those that are hopeless. I really, truly believe Molly is beyond hope. I don’t think any amount of time, therapy or medication can change her. I think she was born crazy and she always will be. What’s the point of even letting these kinds of people live in society? Shouldn’t they be locked up with their own kind in a controlled environment forever so the outside world can be a little safer? I’m glad the mother is finally waking up where her daughter is concerned and has quit making lame excuses for her despite an understandable desire to want to defend her own flesh and blood. But daughter or not, the kid (and I will call her that because she acts like a kid even though she’s 28) is fucked up. Hopefully, her eyes will open even further and she’ll see that there’s no changing anything and will not so much as give up on her but will get her into some kind of institution. Does the woman really want to spend the rest of her life babysitting the nutjob anyway?

Maliheh never picked up the Webshots postcard I sent her unless they failed to notify me that it was delivered. I’m sure she’s having a rough life now just like she says she is, but I still think she’s playing with me much like Nane was. You gotta go by what people do and not what they say. Actions really do speak louder than words.

I was “reminiscing” about Nane in one of my Facebook notes. Wonder if Irene or Christiane mentioned it to her? LOL

Rain, rain, don’t go away. Rain, rain, keep Jesse away:) It’s not gonna stop him from running and gunning his truck, but it will keep him off of at least 4 of his 50 other vehicles:)))

Later…

I’m reading a book called Trapped by Jack Kilborn. It’s a good story so far, though I’m only 22% through it, but am a little disturbed by the author’s description of those with ADHD. Well, I have ADHD and yes, we have memory retention issues at times and a short attention span, but to say we feel no empathy or remorse and that we blame everyone else for what happens to us is pure BS. I won’t take the blame for someone else’s mistake, but I know damn well when I’ve made a mistake myself and I don’t mind saying so. I’m only human. Humans fuck up. As for empathy or remorse, of course I’m not going to feel bad for you if you should fall and skin your knees after you did me wrong. And like most people out there, the more you’ve wronged me, the less I care what happens to you. But I would most definitely feel bad if I wronged or offended those I care about. No doubt about that. And I empathize greatly when my loved ones and good friends are suffering. I think that the inability to feel empathy and remorse is a personality thing; not an ADHD thing.

It also disturbs me to hear some people refer to gays and lesbians as a “lifestyle.” If there’s any “style” in gayhood then there’s just as much in straighthood. To hear it referred to as an “alternative lifestyle” really pisses me off. Where’s the “alternative” to being yourself?

While I try to have a “to each their own” attitude and let people have their own beliefs, it’s hard to believe those who say things happen for a reason. I once thought this myself and sometimes I still do, but in most cases, I’m not so sure anymore. Good people suffer for seemingly no reason whatsoever. There is simply NO justifiable, sensible or rational “reason” why some kids are beaten to death by their own parents.

Nothing in the way of oink, oink and no warrants either. While it makes sense for them to give up on me as long as I don’t go to their jurisdiction, it also doesn’t make sense that they would give up on me with a history with this black bitch. Pigs, lawyers and judges break laws all the time. If they’re frustrated enough by the jurisdiction thing and they really want to get at me, they’ll find a way. They’ll be sorry. But they’ll find a way. My logical side knows it’s just a scam but my PTSD side knows otherwise. No one’s after me despite all she did to me in the past.

I miss blogging. I don’t miss the troll but I miss blogging and seeing who comes around and what they have to say. I feel like that’s something the pigs, blacks and Molly have taken from me, but I’d rather miss it for a while than deal with any shit that may arise from it until and if I see just how obsessed Arizona may or may not become with me. It’s not uncommon to think you’ve heard the last from the pigs about whatever, then boom! There they are come to haunt you again. Two times I was bullshitted by the police about things being “over.” I’d rather not have to but oh how I will be haunting right back if they tangle with me again!

I thought I might’ve had some dream last night that had to do with Tom getting a raise, but the dream wasn’t clear enough for me to say for sure. That would be nice, but he’s one of their highest-paid employees as it is and that makes it less likely that they’d give him a raise so we’ll see.

I also dreamed we were living in a tiny, dumpy old two-bedroom house in the city. It’s nice that it was a real house, though I don’t like that it was in the city or the “fog” that the closets contained, but yeah, that was one of its quirks, LOL. Foggy closets that needed their doors kept open in the wintertime to keep the mildew and musty odors away.

Still wonder if we’ll make it out of here this year or not. Maybe they won’t lay him off but maybe we won’t be able to get into an adult community either. And maybe all we’ll be able to find in the country that we can afford are dumps similar to this one unless we want a bigger dump in a seedy section of the city or to live on another shared property, and we don’t. This selfish bitch wants everything to herself:) It isn’t that we couldn’t afford to pay over a grand in rent; it’s that we don’t want the place sucking every last dime out of us like the motels and the Maricopa house did. In the past, it used to be important to me to have extra money for fun stuff. Nowadays it’s important to me in case we fall upon hard times, something we got especially good at.

Something good was going on in the dream I had despite the shabbiness of the house itself, only Tom was being secretive about it. Like he wanted to find out more about it, and then surprise me with whatever it was.

We’re done with the rain we had for the next week or so, which means warmer temps and a noisier landlord who will now have more options with which to annoy me. Instead of just his truck, he can now choose between the Harley, the dirt bike, the bulldozer or the ATV. I really gotta wonder just how many feet we need to place between us and our nearest neighbor in order to not have to hear from them every day. At just a few feet I pretty much expected it, but if they’re still annoying me from over 100 feet, I wonder if 10 miles would even make a difference so long as they’re our neighbors. beats head