It was exactly 25 years ago that I wrote my first journal entry. That was a paper entry, of course, all of which have been digitized since the mid-90s. Had I known it’d one day be published for the entire world to see I’d have laughed my ass off. It seems like so many lifetimes ago that that young, naïve, and sometimes incredibly stupid girl on disability and food stamps froze her ass off in the cold and snow as she rode the buses through the scummiest sections of Springfield, MA while her mommy and daddy lived in warm comfort and style 1400 miles below her. I don’t miss that loveless life full of pills, cigarettes and hopeless dreams one bit!

How could I forget to mention the dreams? I had 2 - possibly 3 - Florida dreams. One was too vague to remember but the others took place over a couple of days. It was like one dream for each day. In dream #1 Tom was complaining about the humidity, though I didn’t seem to mind. In dream #2 I was asking if he felt it was better today, and he said it wasn’t that bad.

The past has proven that reoccurring dreams are the most “meaningful” and the most likely to happen. While it’s awfully hard not to think all these Florida dreams aren’t just a product of my wishful thinking, what else can they be? It’s not like I’m going to win 100K or that Walter’s going to call and say, “Good news! Your parents had a few hundred grand stashed under the carpet in the trunk of their car!”

We may very well end up there when he retires, but why would I be dreaming about it now? I don’t usually have these types of dreams till it gets close to actually happening. That’s part of how I know our new home isn’t just right around the corner. The lack of dreams about it pretty much tells me so. Besides, without anything from my parents, it’s going to take the rest of the year to save up the money we want for a nicer, newer, bigger place. Or at least nicer and bigger even if it’s still a 70s model which is as old as they start at. Then it will probably take another month to find the right place, then another month for the paperwork and all that stuff, assuming that every park but the “sardine” park doesn’t reject us for not having perfect credit even though we’d be buying the place outright. So the March vibe kind of makes sense.

Later…

Got my second royalty payment, and while it’s not as much as I’d like, it’s still weird in a nice kind of way to get paid for my writing. God will see to it that I never get nearly as much as I may deserve for my time and efforts, but it’s still cool to get what piddly payments I do get.

Tammy called yesterday and at first I was annoyed that she didn’t just message me. She knows I hate phones. I’ve made this very clear to her. But she said Facebook was messed up and apparently didn’t think to email me instead.

So I called her back, and as usual, spent more time chatting than I intended or wanted. Not because she’s boring or anything like that, but because I was tired and the poor girl sounded like shit. She has pneumonia. I swear she’s always got something! She’s so like I was when I smoked not that I’ve been problem-free as healthy as I am. I still have more dental work to take care of and I still have to deal with my ear and allergies. So I’m not perfect. But there don’t seem to be many comparisons between us two. She’s up to 222 pounds and really has a lot of problems and so does Becky. I guess she’s dealing with glaucoma, had eye surgery, and is worried about losing an eye, which would totally suck.

And then she pissed me off with the news she hit me with even though I totally expected it. Funny how one can still get pissed even though they figured as much. Like I said in my last entry, I know God. I know He not only protects my perps and sees to it that things go well for them, but I knew he’d snub me one last time where my parents are concerned. My abusive parents who had all the pampering and catering in the world in their final days, and who got to exit this world peacefully in their sleep. If anything it’s my husband and I that are going to suffer slow, painful deaths all alone without anyone around to give a damn. Why? Because that’s just how twisted, unfair and fucked up God truly is and I swear I’ll strangle the next person that tries to tell me I should play nicey-nicey with Him and that He just loves the hell outa me the same as everyone else! Sorry, but I don’t kiss up to those who harm me or allow harm to come to me whether they’re of an earthly source or not. And allowing the things to be done to me that have been done to me is NOT love. I can’t make people get this; I can only state the facts. Then again, am I really obligated to explain to people why and how I know their theories about God, at least the ones that pertain to me, are pure bullshit? Those who love me and will do whatever they can to protect me walk on two legs just like I do. That’s all I can say.

Another thing I wasn’t surprised to learn was that my know-it-all mother flunked out of high school. Tammy learned this from a long-time family friend. At least I think that’s who she said it was from. She was surprised but not surprised. My parents weren’t the dumbest people alive but they weren’t nearly as smart as my sister and I either. Dad didn’t, but Mom sure loved to pretend she knew it all, all the while she would critique and criticize others. Yeah, a true hypocrite at heart, but strangely and sadly enough, it is often those with the same problems they’re picking on that do the picking. The fat picks on the fat. The poor picks on the poor. The fearful picks on those with fears. The dumb pick on the dumb.

They never could have learned one language let alone several or become published authors if they had tried. Nor could they sing as well as I came to sing. I may not be the smartest person alive either, but there was no comparison and I know my mother was even jealous of me in some ways. It was embarrassing to her to have her kids end up smarter than her. She wasn’t proud. She was jealous.

Gotta pull a load of laundry out and then shower. After that, I’ll continue on with my bitchfest but don’t be fooled. Just because I’m pissed and hate my parents and God doesn’t mean I’m unhappy. If anything I feel freer, happier and less stressed now that they’re gone.