...I really shouldn't be writing while in this particular state, but what the hell. My baby's starting kindergarden tomorrow. I'm devestated. It finally hit me a couple of hours ago, when Justin was filling out last minute paperwork. My baby is leaving, and I don't know what to do. Sobs. Sobs all over the place. I've stuffed my face, and had more Chartruese than was probably wise to have. At least now I can crack a smile (lopsided though it may be). a little tipsy. At least I'm not crying anymore (well, at the moment). I don't even know who I am, if I'm not her primary caregiver. Ugh. I'm gonna try to go to bed. I'm not even gonna brush my teeth first. I know; I'm a rebel. Where did the last five years go? It seems like she was just this little tiny premie baby, hooked up to an apnea monitor. Now she's this grown up little thing who makes up songs for me and tells me not to worry; that she'll always be my baby...

I better go before the tears find me again...

Insomnia has gotten worse, if you can believe that. Haven't really slept any decent amount of time since Thursday night. Usually Friday night/Saturday morning, when I've been up for almost 24 hours, I can count on a decent block of sleep to carry me through. Not this week. Not sure what's the matter with me. Justin's on vacation this week, so he offered to let me take a nap, but everytime I drifted, the phone rang, or someone was at the door, or there was a wasp in the living room. So now I'm at one of our may coffeeshops. I wanted to try to get some writing done, but my head is in a very nebulous place; I'm too wired for sleep, too exhausted to read or write. It's difficult to remember my own name.

G begins kindergarden tomorrow. She's super excited; I'm the one who's a nervous wreck. She'll no longer be just my little girl. I'm releasing her out into the world, AND I DON'T WANNA!!!!!!! The transition from stay-at-home-mom with a part time job to housewife is going to be an...interesting one. I'm ready and not. This is such a big change for all of us. I'm dreading it, and welcoming it at the same time. I just hate the waiting, I think. Let's just go.

My last day at work was Friday, which is sad. It was easy for me; we were training, so the new guy did a lot of stuff, we went to dinner for an hour, and Trini let me go early, so it was almost like not working. Totally gonna miss those guys. It's weird leaving a job because you have to, and not cause you're sick of it. Feels like such a fucking waste.

But no worries; all is not gloomy. This past weekend was awesome. Friday night I got to hang out with some of my best friends, drink a smidge, and just in general act like fools. It was a nice little release. And Saturday was Date Night. Not only did I get to spend it with my glorious husband and fab friends Rob and Shannon, but I also got to see the new flick "Inglorious Basterds". Lovelovelove. I heart Tarantino with everything my dirty little fan girl soul has to offer. I really, really do. We even went home and watched "Death Proof" again. If I weren't so out of it, I'd request that we put in "Kill Bill II" tonight, but I don't think I have the stamina to really enjoy it.

So, this week will be full of change. I've already mentioned G going to school. Justin's birthday is Thursday. A full cleaning/rearranging of the house will commence. I will start excersising again. And I'm facing it all on less than four hours sleep a night. Oh, well, we adapt, or we die. Adapt, or die.

Oh, and a personal aside to my AWOL mother: I've been trying to text and email you. If you still read this, get a hold of me.

Well, I'm about to find out. Yes, boys and girls, the unthinkable has happened--I've become a vegetarian. I know, I know, it's now just a couple of steps to stinky hippy-dom, but there it is. And no, it's not because I think killing animals is wrong. I mean, I think we need to take responsibility for the lives we end (before this, I had a rule that I would not eat anything I wouldn't personally kill) simply because it's honest to do so, but I don't think it's wrong. I mean, we're omnivores. That's what we were made to do.

So, you might be wondering (or not), what tipped the scales? Saturday I saw a movie called "Food, Inc.", and among other useful nuggets of information, they included footage of what life is like for animals inside the huge, industrial farms. I almost bawled. I had no idea. Again, it wasn't the taking of life (in a nice bit of fair play, they showed footage of farmers on organic, free range farms slitting chicken throats)because, well, we all destroy or break down something else to survive. No, what bothered me was how these animals were treated before they died. It was horrible. I mean, people get arrested, sent to jail, for keeping puppy mills, but not only are these industrial farms allowed to keep animals in worse conditions than most puppy mills, they're payed handsomely to do so. It doesn't make sense to me.

Don't worry; I ain't gonna be all uppity about it. I will still eat seafood that isn't in danger of becoming endangered. You can still have your hamburger in front of me, and I won't say anything (I might drool a little, but I won't say anything). It's just, for me, an issue like fair trade; I don't want to deprive some Honduran worker a livable wage because I don't want to pay 50 cents more for a pound of coffee, and I don't want to contribute to more misery because I want a chicken sandwich on the dollar menu. I don't wish to save the world; I just don't want to live like an asshole. And no, we ain't rich. And yes, the food I'm eating now costs more. How am I paying for it? By eating less. So ya, I'm gonna be grumpy for a week or two, until I get used to it all. I hate being an adult sometimes.

Let's see, what else is going on...started re-reading "Hannibal" last night, after many years. Jesus. What does it say about me that I'm uncomfortable around people I've known for years, people I've spent my whole life around, but there in the pages of that book, engaged in the fictional tale of a cannibal and his Beauty, I feel such comfort? God, getting into those charracters again, into the unobrusivly ornate language was like coming home. I almost cried, right in the middle of the Mudhouse. And yes, there is probably something very, very wrong with me.

More to say, but I don't know if I'll get to it; G is doing her best today to make sure I can't think.

So, lots to record, and no orginization in my brain to do so. I know, not much different than many other days, but it feels different today. So much in my head, so much to do. I'm driving my loved ones crazy. I can't make a coherent comment or request. It's just the mad, bad, Text Monster, on the loose.

Started fucking around with my poetry again. Kind of inspired by getting poetry from my friend Elaina, who's actually really, really good (and I'd like to request more, pretty pretty please, if she reads this blog), which was nice, cause I didn't have to lie. Unfortunatly, for the most part, I think poetry has become the most masterbatory of all the arts; everybody does it, but almost nobody reads it. Maybe because a good portion of it sucks. I don't know, and it's a shame, really. When done well, it's a loverly way to communicate something in a few words. And yet, here I am, picking it up again. Whacking away for an audience of one.

Speaking of art, had coffee with my friend/director Jim, who took time out of his busy schedual to give me feedback on "Easter Lane", and then I was my normal, long winded, self important self, discussing art and the nature of art. He bore my pretentious bitchiness like a trooper, and I myself had a grand time.

Night before last I got to play a zombie go-go dancer in my friend TJ's drag show. It was awesome; he goes by the name Amber Alert, and did this whole zombie production to his personal remix of Manson's "The Beautiful People" and "Brintey's "Toxic", and he had back up dancers and everything. They were all awesome. I, myself, was super slow on all my cues, but I growled and snapped a lot. That's gotta count for something. Getting ready for everything was like Misty's idea of porn: we were down in a subbterranian dressing room, surrounded by drag queens, beautiful girls, and tons of stage blood. Awesomeness.

Speaking of porn, Justin found out that there is actually gonna be an "X-Files" porn film coming out in September. I saw a couple of pictures of the leads. The guy isn't disgusting (which is really all you can ask for in straight porn), and the girl, in the wig, makes a pretty darn fine Gillian Anderson. So yeah, lots of Misty porn.

Gave my notice to the job I love so much. I hated, hated, hated doing it, but With G getting out of kindergarden at 3, and me starting work at 3, well, I'd basically only be working to keep her in one institution or another for almost over 10 hours a day, and I just can't see doing that to her. So, I've given up the best job I've ever had. My last day is the 21st. I'm hoping that I can actually get some organization in the house, and in my life, when the working stops. We shall see.

Was in IHOP the other week with G, sitting near a huge group of old people,who were talking very loudly about What's Wrong With This Country. Needless to say, I disagreed with their reasons, but I kept my mouth shut. There was no reason not to; I'd just be being rude, and I don't like to be obviously rude (without a good reason, that is). So G and I had our lunch, and it was a very nice lunch, and the old people would occassionally look over at us, and nod approvingly when I would instruct G to tell the waitress 'please' and 'thank you', and smile warmly when they met my eyes, and tell me what a cute daughter I had, and for the life of me, I was wondering what they were seeing. Was it because we were clean and polite that they decided that my daughter and I were okay? They sat there and smiled, and drank their coffee, and bitched about the state of things, having absolutely no clue that I'm EXACTLY What's Wrong With This Country. It was a surreal little moment.

Not going out tomorrow night, I don't think. Giddy's gonna be in Las Vegas for a week. Miss him and his stupid lucky ass already. Elicia's supposed to be back in Springfield in a couple of weeks, which is awesome in so many ways, not the least of which that, appareantly there seems to be a serial killer hunting in NOLA, stalking the French Quarter. So, daily texts until she gets up here. Like I said, big, bad Text Monster...

This blog gets mirrored on Facebook, and they have the option of tagging your friends, and the last few times that I did blog and not go on endlessly about myself I did tag people that I mentioned, but I don't think I'm gonna do that anymore. It seems kinda lame, and really, if I have to namecheck my loved ones for them to read my utterances, then I'm lost, anyways.

...That I wish I could sit in a corner booth in a diner somewhere, drinking coffee, alone with myself, until the sun comes up over the horizon. I mean, I COULD do that, but I'm an adult; I have responsibilities. I would pay for it dearly in the morning. Still, the wish is there. I feel as if my head is too small for all the thoughts zipping through it to contain. If only I had time to slow down, to pluck one out and give it its due...

Do you ever have that twin moment of clarity and confusion, when you know, you can almost physically feel yourself transforming? That no matter when the process of transition actually began--a month, a year, five hours ago--that in this particular moment, you recognize that as a person, at your core, you're changing? It feels very much like what I imagine a snake goes through when it sheds; it's an uncomfortable moment, a very vulnerable moment, but not an entirely unpleasant one. It's frightening and kinda hurts, but you're looking forward to it, to the other side, to the new skin. A skin very much like the old one, but different; stronger, more resilliant. Yeah, that's how I feel right now. I'm actually typing this, yet kind of all curled up into myself at the same time. Ready to strike, I guess. But the only one to strike at is me.

So many new things to learn. I need to relax. Not in a 'go with the flow' sort of way (mainly because I don't subscribe to the idea that there is a universal flow to go with), but there are so many things I've been hanging on to, so many things that I've been trying to fill myself up with, that I need to let go of. Those needs to be beautiful, to be smart, to be constantly adored. That need for food, or for things, when those prior requirements aren't met. And it's not a negative thing; I don't hate the version of this girl I'm leaving behind. In her abilities, she's served me well. It's just that, well, you figure out that you're not as evolved as you thought you were. And I recognize that this other girl, this girl to come, won't be either, and yet somwhere along the way I'll forget, until that point when the next girl starts wiggiling her way out.

Perhaps this new girl--version 2.0 or 2000000.0--needs to learn how to breathe. Needs to find the rhythm of her body, of the breath, of the blood. Rhythm and air. I'm not good with either, frankly. All these things I've always physically possesed, I've never owned. For some reason I've always found it easier to try to swim against the tide, to fight, to push. And yet there's so much more work in that. My best guess is that it's a fear response; that I'm afraid I won't get what I need any other way.

Silly girl...

I just read this entry over, and am not really sure that it conveys what I want it to. But the hour is much later than I want it to be, so I guess it'll have to do.

...which is not unusual in and of itself, but I literally had them in my hands 45 seconds before the abyss swallowed them. I had to turn Monica's foster daughter, Christina,who needed the spare key to her house, away, because I literally cannot find them. At all. And this is not a small ring of keys, mind you. Not only is it attatched to my obnxious, charm filled "Twillight" keyring, but my solid alluminum beat-a-bitch stick is on there, as well. And I can't find them. There are only a few rooms they could be in. I still can't find them. I bribed G with extra candy, and she can't find them. So, am taking a little break, and hoping that things will turn up before I have to go to work.

Ever have one of those days where you opened your eyes and wanted to cry, because simply the idea of getting up was too overwhelming, let alone everything else you must accomplish after getting up? Yeah; one of those days. I really think the sleep deprevation is getting to me. I've been making dumbass mistakes at work; I mean, really stupid shit. My brain always feels like it's trying to work through a river of sludge. And my body, well, my poor body is paying for it all. I really, really need some rest, and have no idea how to get any. Join the fucking club, right?

The damn phone keeps ringing.

And really, this weekend has been a rather pleasant one, but I got home not too long ago to news that people had taken G to the store, gotten a school list, and done all her kindergarden supply shopping list. All of it. Pencils, paper, crayons, backback (forgetting that months ago I had bought the cutest little heart pack that matches mine, and was saving it), schoolbox, lunchbox (yes, had a Megera box from the movie "Hercules" I was planning on giving her), glue...apparently everything. Now, I know none of this was done with malice; in fact, they probably thought they were doing us a favor, but dammit, I'M HER MOTHER. I wanted to be the one to take her shopping for her first school supplies. A stupid thing to be upset about, I'm sure, but right now, knowing how inconsequential this really is doesn't help. Been trying to stop the big fat stupid baby tears, but I can't. Lots of anger, lots of sadness, lots of stupid, big fat baby tears...

So I'm here, kinda sick. Sick enough to get sent home from work early. Got a few hours sleep, and now, that it's time for normal humans to sleep, I'm blogging. Sigh.

I've also been binging big time with the food. I try to tell myself that I used to binge on McDonalds, and now I binge on whole wheat bread and crackers, so it's totally different, but I know it's really not. Depression has caught me off guard again. It's not the depression I used to have, the depression where I'm clutching my pint of Ben and Jerry's, collapsed on the floor, sobbing hysterically. No, this kind of depression, it's like I'm a butterfly caught in a jelly jar; I can see outside, can see how great my life is, but I can't hear it, can't touch it, am seperate from it. Hence the whole wheat crackers (although I must admit that there were a few cherry cordial Hersey's Kisses in the mix).

Been thinking a lot about Kyley lately. On the 26th she would have been 18, which is incredibly odd. I can't see her as anything other than a 6 year old. I guess that's normal. About six months ago I found a cross stich project I had started years ago. It's Pocahontas and John Smith. Only the backstitching needs to be done. I'm notorious for not finishing projects. This one I had begun for Kyley. She loved Pocahontas. She had Pocahontas bedding and Barbie Dolls. I'm not the kind of person who thinks nothing can happen to me and the people I love, and yet I tend to lounge about, thinking I have all the time in the world (and yet, at the same time, I'm always pushing pushing pushing. Go figure). I thought about finishing the cross stitch, cleaning it and framing it, but very quickly decided against it. It belongs unfinished.

Trying to dissconnect from the cyber world a little bit. While I'm not an addictive personality, I am compulsive (Is there a difference? I think so; a very fine line, perhaps), and quite needy, and even though I have over a hundred 'friends' on both my myspace and facebook accounts, and tons of texting buddies, I've been finding that if people aren't constantly sucking my dick, leaving comments and messages, I start feeling irrationally neglected and lonely. Yes, that is crazy thinking. No, knowing it doesn't make it any better. So, For the next week I'll be trying to log on only once a day, and texting only when I have something to say. Ugh. I'm not looking forward to it. I better make sure we have plenty of crackers.

Been reading a book on the history of coffee, which is much more interesting and relevent than it sounds. What's striking me about it is how little the people who are responsible for thehysical cultivation get paid for the stuff, compaired to the people who sell it. Even now, without the forced labour laws and all, the desendants of poverty are kept in poverty. So relevant now, with this worldwide global meltdown; we have a real chance to fix something that's broken. I mean, the heads of these huge corporations are so shortsighted;think of the money saved, the taxes lifted if we just payed people a livable wage and provided affordable healthcare. Instead of donating millions to food pantries and free clinics and such, turn around and put that money into your employees, so they don't need food stamps, pantries, and free clinics. Think of the burdon taken off of our health care industry, on the money we could save on forgein aid, on welfare...you know, cheap food isn't really cheap. People have asked me why I'll spend more on a cup of coffee at Starbucks when McDonald's is cheaper, and I say it's because Starbucks offers fair trade varieties, and offer even their part time employees affrdable health coverage. My extra thirty cents a cup goes a long way.

And then there's the whole Michael Jackson thing, isn't there? Oh, Michael. I have such mixed feelings about him. Do I think he's a pediphile? Probably. But "Thriller" is still a damn fine album. How do I reconcile this person who gave me such joy as a child, completely ruining the lives of other children. In the end, in appreciating a work of art, does it matter? Just because Lewis Carrol was probably an incorragible perv, does that make his Alice stories any less artful? "Thriller" began my life long love affair with Vincent Price. I had a "Beat It" T-shirt. I do believe that in some way every piece of art is a self portrait; is it acceptable to take that part of a person, and ignore the other? We do it all the time. I guess there are no easy answers.

It's late. I'm rambiling. I've had two cans of Coke Zero, probably because I haven't had any coffee today. I should try to sleep. I hate sleep. Oh, the things I could do if my body eren't burdned with exhaustion. It's a visious cycle--I don't get anything done, because my body is so tired, but my mind won't allow sleep, so my body is always tired.

For some reason, the 4th of July weekend usually turns out to be a really awesome one for me. Last year I hung out with Elicia, attended my first Artwalk, and met Giddy for the first time, then the next day had a marathon shopping trip (and I do mean MARATHON)with Billie, and then, if I remember correcly, hung out with Barry and Sharon. This year was even more packed.

I took Friday off of work (thanks Trini and Trevor), and spent the early part of the day with G, then took her to school. Then when Justin got home we headed to the Mudhouse for a quick dinner. After that I picked up Elaina from work, and watched her practice a drag routine with Thomas and TJ. THEN I picked up Giddy and Tasha, and we hung out at the Outland. There I saw my friend Jason, who I don't encounter nearly enough, met up with Amber and Jason, and Cameron. After last call we hung out on the sidewalk outside, dividing our attention between the hooker trying to pick up johns (no joke), and the fight that was breaking out on the street corner. After that a very astute street musician noticed my "Rocky Horror Picture Show" T-shirt, and broke out a few tunes. We fed him dollar bills and I acted the complete fool, singing at the top of my lungs. It's a tragedy that I can't be a drag queen. It really is. Then we headed over to Amber and Jason's place, where Jason played us Michael Jackson videos. The last stop was George's, where Giddy and I talked for so long, poor Tasha almost fell asleep in the booth. I think I dragged my sorry carcass in around 5:30am.

Saturday was Date Night, and G was staying with the grandparents, so Justin and I didn't have to turn into pumpkins at midnight. We started off in the afternoon by watching a movie at The Moxie, "The Girlfriend Experience" (really quite good. Certainly worth a netflix rental). I, for Justin, because he for some unfathonable reason likes me this way, was dressed up like Goth Barbie, with big hair, my black tulle skirt, and a Bride of Frankenstein T-shirt, so for dinner I insisted we stay downtown. Unfortunately most places were closed, so we stumbled into the South Avenue Pizza Co., which turned out to be quite fabulous.

Later in the evening we headed to Martha's to watch TJ, Thomas, Elaina and co perform their number. Zac, Elaina's awesome boyfriend was there with his friends, and Thomas brought his best friend and niece, so there were plenty of cool people to party with. I again, acted the fool, but TJ, Thomas, and Elaina's performance was so supper cool, it made up for my lack of cool (btw, TJ performes a couple of places in town under the name of Amber Alert, so if you happen by that name, go check him out. You won't be dissapointed). Needless to say, it was another late night.

Sunday I headed to the casino with my Dad and his wife Darlene. They had tickets to Creadence Clearwater Revisited, and invited me along. I'm a pansy when it comes to gambeling, but I enjoy watching everyone else play. The concert was cool, and there was a nifty fireworks show, then more casino. Another very, very late night (It's HARD to get my Dad and Daerlene out! And it's a sad state of affairs when I end up being the voice of reason), but so very worth it.

Well, I was going to talk about stuff I've been reading, and not simply make this entry a recap of my weekend, but G is hungry for lunch, and my attention. Maybe next time.

Yes, my boobs got a clean bill of health, which is very, very good news. I'm trying to enjoy that part of the diagnosis, and not the crazy hypochondriac part. So whoo hoo for me!

Started the next rewrite on "Easter Lane". It's like the book that never ends. I love the world, but am so sick of my own words. I start to wonder whether it's worth finishing, but then I drag out the old laptop, anyway.

In other Easter news, I don't think my sweet little snake is going to be with me much longer. She's not eating, and now I don't even think she's drinking. We're supposed to go in tomorrow to try some other therapies, but honestly, I don't know how much longer I can put her through this. She's not a cat, or bunny, or a bird, where they can actually take comfort in you and you can kind of reason with them and give them treats and stuff. All she knows is that she's in pain, and that we're putting her through more. It breaks my heart. I feel a heaviness in my chest everytime I look over at her terrarium.

All-in-all, it hasn't been a great week for me. My skin has been horrible, my sleep and productivity non-existent, and my eating completely out of control. Oh, and yesterday I chipped my front tooth somehow. Maybe by grinding my teeth at night. Haven't even had time to call the dentist, not that he would even be there during this holiday week. I'm a bit depressed, too, and am not sure how to pull myself up. I just feel kind of beaten up, ya know?

But there are very good things, like going out with Tasha and Giddeon Friday night (this weekend is the first anniversary of Giddy and I meeting, which seems impossible. I would swear we've known each other much longer), and Elaina is a backup dancer for her friend at Martha's on Saturday night (if you're in Springfield, I encourage you to come. TJ makes the cutest little drag queen, and Thomas and Elaina really know how to move). Justin hates the clubs (dark, smoky, loud, I'm usually flitting around from person to person), but he's graciously agreed to go see them perform. What a trooper.

So I just noticed that if I don't get my ass in gear, I'm a gonna be late for work, so this is my fat ass, getting into gear...

PS: Nate, I don't know if you still follow this blog, but got your postcard today. G immediately stole it for her room. Miss you much, and can't wait to see you! Oh, and, nice pigtails ;)

Yes, it's been forever since I wrote in this here blog. Yes, I should do it more often, but my life is very crammed full at the moment, and the idea of recording it just leaves me exhausted. I doubt that I have that many devoted followers anymore, anyway.

So, the bad news first; Easter is still not doing well. We got her dorsal scales mostly cleared up, only to have sores develop on her back from the incomplete sheading. And she won't eat. At all. So we wash and ointment her up, and every week I offer her a rat, but nothing seems to make much difference. It's sad and depressing and I'm going to call the vet tomorrow to discuss our options.

Another bit of weirdness is that I've developed hard lymph nodes under my arm. My blood work was normal, and my breast exam was fine, but just to be on the safe side they're sending me in for a mamogram. It's just a p[recaution, and no one's expecting that we'll find anything out of the ordinary; but it's just another thing to try to schedule in.

I also still have not had a vacation day in over a year, and my house is a god awful mess.

On the other hand, everything else is wonderful. I still like my job, and love the two guys I work with; I have an amazing group of friends, Gillian is growing up beautiful and strong and mouthy, and I have the best husband in the whole entire world. I'm also gearing up to do another rewrite on "Easter Lane", and will probably start filming "Dystopia 2013" in the fall.

I've been looking back on the last 365 days, and it's amazing how much my life has changed, so much for the better. Unfortunatly I don't see Monica and her kids nearly as often as I want to, but the new people I've met, Elicia and Giddy, Sarah and Tasha, and Elaina, you guys rock. I've also become an aunt, to a very cute, and very serious, Little Matt, and gotten to know my wonderful step-neice, Victoria, better. So on this longest day of the year, the night of the fairies, and Father's Day to boot, I'm a very lucky--if harried--girl.

Other than that, everything's kinda normal. Not enough sleep, not enough excersise. Hopefully I'll be a little more exciting for my next entry.

Easter's coming home on Monday, but she'll still require 10 days of injections and other therapies. She's not out of the woods yet, but Dr. Hardy thinks she's doing better. I'm relieved and apprehensive at the same damn time.

Well, it is blister disease. Dr. Hardy thinks it might have started with a minor burn. She's at the vets, and will be for at least a week. Easter was really good about me getting her out of her terrarium, and into the bag, but once she got to the vets, she started biting and thrashing around. Dr. Hardy had to get the snake hook out. Bless her little heart. She's so scared, and in so much pain. I miss her already, and it's only been two hours. I know this is what's best for her, and that she's getting the best care, but I still can't help but worry. I mean, how many lives is a snake allowed to have? She almost died two years ago in the ice storm; I had to snuggle her against my skin to get her warm, and then she had that awful respritory infection...poor little girl.

I won't go into much detail, but Saturday night my snake Easter got really sick (me and the er vet think she burned herself, her usual vet thinks it's blister disease, but since she's a rainforest creature, and winter has yet to release us, so the heater's still on in the house and the humidity is low, I think that's doubtful. I have to take her in to her regular vet tomorrow. She bit the night nurse. That's really not like her. I was able to get her to soak once, and kinda took advantage of a rare mellow moment to put on her ointment once, but I'm supposed to do this twice a day, and give her an injection, and even my biologist father-in-law doesn't think we can do it without hurting her, because she's almost my height, and three-and-a-half-pounds, so I've extremly distraught, and have no idea what I'm going to do. So, if you can't get a hold of me this week, I'm not avoiding you. I don't know what's gonna happen. Easter is one of my great pleasures. I have to force myself not to cry constantly. And I can't take time off of work to take care of her, because we have an audit this week, and AT&T might strike, and we still have to pay vet bills n matter what (on top of everything else). I love her so much, and I can't do what's necessarry to take care of her. It's an awful, awful feeling. I just feel ill, and of course that's nothing compaired to what she's going through.

Don't know if there will be a part II, but thought I'd give ya'all a rundown while I had a little time. Yesterday was awesome. At my very cool job, my very cool supervisor let me go early, so I could have dinner with Justin. We went to Nearly Famous and I had a yummy BLT, and something called a chocolate carmel pecan cake that was more like a pie, but totally did the job of spiking my blood sugar up to new heights.

Then Justin went over to Eric's, and Giddy picked me up to go to Martha's. Trini was there, as was Giddy's sister, and Thomas and Elaina showed up, so it was a pretty awesome night. Lots of fun, lots of friends, and I even woke up at a fairly early time this morning, so so far, so good. More planned for today and tomorrow. I'm a very lucky girl.

...so, "Easter Lane" 3.0 is finished. Well, I have to look over the last two chapters, and there are little picky things to do, but in general, it's finished. Don't know quite how to feel. Kinda at a loss. Kinda numb. Oddly unaccomplished. The big question, "What now?" looms, and damned if I know.

I think I've been fighting off a migraine for a week now. Insomnia kicking in again certainly doesn't help. Between the fierce ache in my left temple, and the lack of sleep, I'm extremely grumpy, and sleepwalking through the waking hours (of which there are far too many. Or mabe there are too many sleeping hours). So, yes, I'm a delight to be around. Don't you just envy my husband and child? I've even owned "Twilight" since Saturday and haven't cracked it open. You know that's a bad sign.

Okay, enough bitching. Lights out time. Hopefully I can make that stick.

...that just about says it all, doesn't it? Ugh. Insomnia and compulsive overeating back tonight. I'm not real good when left to my own devises; at least, not when I'm feeling like this. Haven't been working out, which is my usual mood booster. Literally have not had the time.

The good news is that I like my new job a lot, and the guys I work with are cool. If I can just manage to not make a horrible mistake, all should be cake. Finished Part Two today (yesterday? I guess by now it's yesterday). Strung a necklace together with G for some Mommy and daughter time. So, there's a lot good happening; I'm not able to appreciate it at the moment.

Won't be going to St. Louis this year; b etween Monica's new mommyhood, and the possibility of a strike at Justin's place of employement, it's simply not in the cards. So I'm a bit on edge. Can you tell?

Busy, busy, busy. Still alive, though. I thought I owed ya'all a journal entry that wasn't a meme. Forgive me if this one's too short; my mind is slightly fried.

Started a new job, and I'll be all official-like once I pee in a cup and prove that I partake in nothing illegal. It's different than what I'm used to(the job, not the peeing. I've been good at peeing for a while now), and that's really cool, but at the same time I'm completely out of my element. So much to learn, so much new information. I can hang on for a couple of hours, but after that I can feel myself becoming overwhelmed.

Been writing. Always writing. "Easter 3.0" is progressing. Hopefully it will be done by my birthday, which, coincidentally, is when I need to be completely trained and competent for my job. On top of everything else. Geez, don't be surprised if you hear even less from me in March than you did February. Who needs sleep, or excersise? Not me, I tell ya. So what if my ass gets even bigger, and the circles under my eyes start to look like bruises? So what? So what, indeed.

There have been fun and bright moments, but for the life of me, I can't summon the energy to record them. What a sad little fried puppy I am tonight. Ah, well. Better pour another Diet Pepsi, and get back to work.

1. Put Your iTunes on Shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer (DON'T CHEAT/SKIP).
3. You must write down the name of the song no matter how silly it sounds!
4. Put any comments in brackets after the song name.
5. Tag at least 10 friends
--------------------------

What do your friends think of you
"Brickhouse 2003" Rob Zombie

If someone says, “Is this okay?” You say?
"Theme From Flood" They Might Be Giants

How would you describe yourself?
"Something Good This Way Comes" Jakob Dylan

What do you like in a guy/girl?
"First Confrontation" Danny Elfman (Batman Soundtrack)

How do you feel today?
"The Fool On The Hill" The Beatles

What is your life’s purpose?
"Zaar" Peter Gabriel (Passion Album, the soundtrack to "The Last Temptation of Christ")

What is your motto?
"Except The New Girl" Chris Isaak

What do you think about very often?
"The Flower of Carnage" Meiko Kaji (Kill Bill Soundtrack)

What is 2 + 2?
"I Tremble For You" Johnny Cash

What do you think of your best friend?
"El Condor Pasa" Simon & Garfunkel

What do you think of the person you like?
"Return To Sender" Elvis Presley

What is your life story?
"My Name Is" Eminem

What do you want to be when you grow up?
"Suede" Tori Amos

What do you think of when you see the person you like?
"Silent House" Dixie Chicks

What will you dance to at your wedding?
"Into The Great Wide Open" Tom Petty

What will they play at your funeral?
"Irvine" Kelly Clarkson

What is your hobby/interest?
"Roxanne" The Police

What is your biggest fear?
"Happiness Is A Warm Gun" U2 version

What is your biggest secret?
"Role Model" Eminem

What do you think of your friends?
"Wanderin'" Chris Isaak

What will you post this as?
Theme From "Shaft" Isaak Hays

Yes, second post for the day. I'm iced in, and can't possibly fit anymore into my stomach, AND I'm outta "Twilight" shit to read. Therefore, a rant.

You all know why any particular orginized religion cares if, when, and who you have sex with, right? It's not about morality folks. Orwell totally nailed it in "1984". It's all about CONTROL. If a particular governing body can conrol the way you view a natural, necessary human drive, well, how much more malliable does that make you? If someone can make you feel guilty for wanting to act on hormones you were born with, how much power are you handing over?
If they can make you view your own body, your own mind as sinful, as weak, as being a trator, as being unreliable, then they can pretty much lead you to believe anything they want.

And virginity...when the hell are we gonna stop treating virginity like a virtue? Virginity is not a virtue; it's simply a state of inaction. It's not a gift; your body is a gift whether it's the first time, or the millionth time. Yeah, virginity can keep you safe from disease, and it can prevent your head from getting too screwed up by doing it before you're ready. THAT'S IT. I mean, there are women--girls--around the world who are forced into lives of prostitution, or even killed, for not being (or being rumored not to be)virgins. Girls--women--in this country feel like they're damaged goods.

I just wish we could have open, honest dialogs about sex, without double standards, without hypocrisy, without fear or guilt.