Believe it or not, I feel like I have another cold. Either that or I relapsed back into my old one. I’m rundown, my throat is scratchy, and I’m a little congested. I still can’t shake the feeling that something is trying to prevent me from working out regularly that I’m damn near tempted to just do my ab crunches and back flies to keep my core strong and say fuck the rest.

Even though I’ve been wonderfully anxiety-free, the one thing I’m not looking forward to when I see the new shrink is having to start all over again discussing my childhood and parents. It isn’t that I’m unable to do so. Hell, I’ve written a bio that includes it and I’ve discussed it so many times to the point where it doesn’t invoke the emotions it would 25 years ago and I’ve desensitized myself to it in a sense, but it’s just so in the past, you know? Like watching the same movie over and over and over again. It isn’t that I can’t bear to remember or talk about them; it’s that I just don’t want to. What happened, happened and I accept that and that it can’t be changed or undone in any way. That doesn’t mean it was okay or that what I went through was good in any way, it’s just that I don’t care to discuss anyone I was wronged or abused by in any way, dead or alive. I prefer to move on and focus on those who are a positive or at least a neutral influence on my life, and this doesn’t only extend to my parents.

Memories of my parents will pop into mind at random, unbidden. They will also come to me in my dreams and there’s nothing I can do about that, but I don’t want to focus on them or anyone else who was abusive or negative because I’m to the point where it would actually be more counterproductive than therapeutic if I continued to discuss and dwell on certain people. I’m not the person I was when I last saw my folks in the ‘90s, and well, the past is the past. Today I’m surrounded by loving, accepting, positive people and that’s what I choose to focus on. I don’t want to remember how Dad said this or how Mom did that. It’s history.

Yesterday something was running somewhere for over an hour (a woodchipper?), and today it’s the regular landscaping, but hey, there’s always something. I thought it was that car and a motorcycle, but it wasn’t. That car, however, just came in for the second time since I got up at noon, and it’s too early for this to be its last run. I’m sure the fucker will be waking me up as I sleep later and later.

Aly started tweeting again coincidentally after I tweeted about it being both funny and sad that she stopped using her account simply because I wished her a happy birthday. Coincidence or not, I highly doubt she reads my tweets or blog. Just a feeling, I guess.

I had a slight rash under my arms as well as on my stomach by my belly button, but Cortizone has helped it a bit. I was really worried the pits would need steroid gel.

The hair regrowth shampoo arrived today and I used it a little while ago for the first time. No bad smell. No irritation. It left my hair feeling nice and clean, too. Maybe a little dry, but that’s what conditioner and Paul Mitchell are for. It’s going to be a week or two before I can get a sense of whether or not it’s going to thicken up my hair in the thinning areas, or anywhere for that matter.

My new blanket arrived and my only complaint is that it’s no wider than the dark purple zebra blanket was. It would be nice if it were 3 or 4 inches longer on each side to at least cover the side of the mattress. It is very beautiful, though. Not sure what Hoeng Xin Day means either.

My new blue crystal bracelet is stunning. My only complaint about this one is that the tiny crystals are glued on and it’s easy to knock them off when you put it on.

I also got the new fashions for the BFF dolls. They’re okay. Nothing special. But at least they have something that’s new and not stretched out or torn like most of the clothes they came in.

I watched a movie on my phone the other night at the end of my day when I was too tired to get up and do anything else but not ready for sleep yet. It was small but different.

For once my dreams were kind of funny. Definitely weird and unique. First Tom wouldn’t tell me who he was mailing an old album to (like the ones he had in Arizona), and then my panties were stuck to the ceiling. Then he opened a sliding door to some room I was sitting on the floor in and said, “Sweat it out,” before handing me lunch money, which consisted of some change. Where I was buying lunch from, though, is a mystery. I was also on a busy street in which that loud car passed, watching someone pick up old car parts with Tom, and coloring in a coloring book that played music when opened.

I met Trump somewhere and he invited me to the “Harrisburg House” for Thanksgiving dinner. I told him I didn’t drive and was hoping he would offer to have me picked up, not because I supported him but because I was simply curious, but he didn’t. He didn’t seem to get the driving phobia thing and was bordering on his typical judgmental self.

Then I met with him and his wife at some restaurant. When his wife went to use the bathroom he “kindly” suggested I didn’t have to do the scheduled phone reports he wanted me to do, obviously not liking me for the job. Glad he brought it up, but figuring that if he didn’t get the driving phobia then he certainly wouldn’t get a sleep disorder, I decided to use something more tangible as an excuse to get out of something I didn’t want to do to begin with. So I showed him my bad ear and said I couldn’t hear well enough for phone conversations anyway.

Not at all surprisingly, he made a grossed-out sound at the sight of it. He was so disgusted that he was about to cancel dinner and have us all go home, but I talked him into staying because I was hungry and he was paying for it, LOL.