Just My Luck

     Well, my routine is shot again. My bronchitis-or-whatever-the-hell-it-is was clearing up, but of course now that tomorrow is supposed to be a beautiful and fun day, my body is acting up to whatever I ate (which was just some chocolate and Instant Potatoes; I haven't been feeling much like eating).
      But at least I have my book, which is stuck. At least I have my Sims game, whose progress is being eaten by the game itself (a grave disappeared after almost a bloody year of getting just to where I am). At least I have my movies, which I can't watch with snacks unless I sneak in small stuff that doesn't crumble/isn't juicy. No, I'm not even supposed to have little bits of chocolates in here, but movies just aren't complete without some kind of snack. I'd really prefer something crunchy and salty, but of course that would crumble. But at least I have my health - sort of. I'm still not quite up to one hundred percent; though I might be if I hadn't forgotten three out of four doses of medicine yesterday. And two today. Well, I had been doing well.
      I'm off. I need to wash my hair. Tomorrow we might be going down to Rolly Lake if it's open or maybe even White Rock. Or Whitehorse, or whatever the hell it's called. It's a beach, that much I know. I'm thinking of buying some fast food and actually enjoying the outing. Bring a blanket, a camera. Some bug spray. Some bear deterrent. Some pepper spray. Whatever.
      I've always wanted to run barefoot across the shore as the tide comes in; leaving my footprints in the sand beside me as the waves crash against my ankles. I've dreamed of riding a horse, too; and eating salmon smoked by a sizzling campfire. Or at least a grill. I just want to get off this damn computer seat and enjoy life before I croak. One day would be nice. One day where I can live all my fantasies. Curl up in a tent in fuzzy pajamas as the Benadryl I'd dribbled on my ice cream induces sleep and kills my motor for twenty hours. Wake up to the next sunset and boot it to the nearest restaurant for chicken burgers and fries; then go home and sit around a table that takes up half the living room and see every single person in my family as we laugh and joke and talk until our lips fall off.
      Yep. Sounds wonderful.
      But no, I'm going to wash my hair and most likely wake up to just another disappointing tomorrow. But one can dream, can't one?

On The Mend (Hopefully)

      I never want to leave the house when I'm sick. But, it has gotten so bad that I did not have a choice today. Thankfully, I didn't get rushed to the hospital because I'd stopped breathing; but I'm just trying to prevent that.
      I got some medicine. I don't know why, but pills just don't cut it. This is liquid Tylenol, and for whatever reason, it cures bronchitis in a matter of days. At least, it always has for me. It's never failed, so I'm counting on it once again. I don't even know if it's bronchitis, but it is going around. One of my sisters has it, but she's so far away from me. I probably contracted it from one of the jackasses who coughed on me. Two people did, in one Goddamn store. They didn't even bother covering their mouths, so I'm pretty sure it was done on purpose.
      "I'm suffering, so should you. Here, have some!" Patooey! Damn idiots. Like they didn't learn anything about hygiene or morals from their mommies, or the education system; and these people were at least my eldest brother's age, or older. You would think they would know about germs and care enough not to spread them. For all they know, I want a doctorate and will one day be in charge of pulling the plug or not, and I can carry a grudge for a fucking lot of years. I have gone years and years and years without getting bronchitis, or whatever the hell this is; and they go and spoil that? Yeah, that right there is a grudge. Damn ugly word, though.
      Shit, I swear a lot!

Another One Bites The Dust

      They just keep getting taken away. Rest in peace, John Pinette. Thanks for the many laughs you provided; you will be missed.

Glad I Slept In

      This day needs to be over as quickly as possible. To speed up its end, I'm going to sit on my ass watching movies, playing games and listening to music. I wish I'd never gotten up.
      No, I didn't receive any bad news. Thank goodness. I'm just menstruating and out of chocolate, again. My hair is greasy, again; I swear, every time I close my eyes it's time to wash my hair. And of course, my throat is so sore I don't even want to eat. I tried taking a drink and I just wanted to spit it out so I didn't need to swallow. I'm still exhausted, which in my case means that my body moves too slowly even though my mind is on high speed, and eventually I'll wind up passing out.
      Yep. These are the good old days, indeed. I can't wait till I'm old, gray and thinking back. Maybe I'll see then what's good now.

Cutting The Cord

      I had to break off a virtual relationship today. I had the decency to wait until he had left without saying goodbye, and then I did the deed. I had no choice. When I first met him, I was pretty excited because we both had a Friends List so full that neither of us had room; and we each deleted someone just to add one another. I thought that was so cool.
      Today I blocked him. Not because he was perverted, which he wasn't; not because he wasn't friendly, which he was; but because he was way too friendly. I mean it was quite annoying. He would buy the same car I bought, and then no matter which car I wanted to drive, he'd change to the same type. And then he'd follow me. And every time I strayed too far, he asked me over and over, "Where are you? Where are you?" And somehow, no matter where I went, no matter if I stayed on the roads or glitched into a hidden building, he'd find me. And then he'd drive in circles around me. "What will we do next? What now?" He had the boundless, tiresome energy of a child; with the gamer knowledge of an expert and the possessive, controlling, manipulative, demanding qualities of an egotistical boyfriend. He would sit there and boss people around; and if somebody didn't join an event he queued, he would order that everyone leave. He'd also bitch and moan you into a guilt trip if you told him the truth, no matter what it might be.
      I couldn't take it anymore.
      Yes, I like my friends. My old friends. They were people I didn't dread talking to. I have two new ones I like; but we don't speak much anymore. One of them cut the cord with me because I had different religious beliefs; and then he asked to be my friend again a week later because apparently, he missed my listening ear, my shoulder to cry on, my advice about his personal life; like what should he do about Jenna or Jamie or whatever-the-fuck-her-name-was. I put everything into friendships when I like that person, and he ditched me for a religious belief, or lack thereof, which had been the same when we met, and now all of a sudden it's a problem. Okay, so maybe I should have been mad at the time. I was just frustrated and sad, just like a subservient little housewife with her tail between her legs. Now I'm feeling some anger, I guess; because that was pretty crappy of him. But I smiled and got over it, and now look, both he and our mutual friend are ignoring me once again. Well, not constantly. We speak once in awhile, but I think we all lost something. The friend who ditched me for a week, we'll call him 1, when he speaks to me it's normally a good conversation, unless I catch him late, in which case we speak for an hour or so before he goes to bed. And our mutual friend, who we'll call 2, never ditched me over something as petty as a difference of opinion. But, when 2 and I talk, we say a few short words. "Hi, how are ya?" "Good." "Same." "Yea" And poof, gone. He used to always say hi first, and those conversations would fly. It's not like that anymore. I say hi and it goes to shit.
      So maybe the old saying, "It's not you, it's me" really does work in this case. Maybe it is me. I make friends I think are golden, and they either leave - or make me wish they had. I have friends on my list who have been inactive for more than two years. I have deleted relatively new friends who have been inactive for two weeks, simply because they don't come on anymore. Neither do old friends, but they're staying on that list. The difference that keeps them on my list that they spoke to me once. They made me laugh and they included me in their fun times. They made me care about them, though we never met, and they were like a second family. I never wanted to say goodbye at night. But they didn't have that problem. They said goodbye and years passed.
      So basically, if they don't die for real, they just die inside, and are no fun anymore. I'm assuming the friends I haven't seen in years made a suicide pact and all died in one room at one time, because after a few of them said they were giving up on life, they all vanished at once.
      I tried to talk one out of suicide. She had tried the night before, to kill herself. Said she was cutting. Said she was standing on a chair with a rope around her neck, and then she untied it and collapsed on her bed sobbing. She wasn't living a good life, and I'm not even sure if committing suicide was the right answer for her. I know it's a permanent solution to a temporary problem, and it doesn't make life easier for those around you, and you can't take it back, and as you lie there dying you'll be filled with regrets you can never rectify. But her problems lived around her, in her house. Maybe she had no regrets.
      And maybe they really were suicidal and have been locked away in a psych ward. Maybe they're all alive and well, laughing and talking and not even thinking of me. But I wouldn't doubt for a moment that they gave up and kept their promise and died together. They said they would. They were at the other end of the chat room, crying and asking me - me, of all people - what the purpose of life was. I sent the prettiest words I could. I guess I failed. How could I have done it any differently? I was trying to find the purpose of it all myself. The difference is, I'm still here. I said my friends and my family were the reason I woke each morning, and that I would continue to wake.
      Oh, hell. Why did I say that to someone with family problems? I was just luring her into it. I was making her depressed, and I was flaunting in her face the one thing she didn't have. I killed my friend. My words killed my friend. And because she had made a pact, her friends died with her, because of what I said. I get it now. Good fucking Lord.
      ...Of course, that's only if they did kill themselves. Maybe they were cops, keeping an eye on people, finding out what people would say when the topic of a bunch of youngsters offing themselves came up. But that's only what my mother and brother think. Maybe they were just stringing me along, setting me up for a fall I would take alone. It wouldn't be the first time.
      I was never good at making friends. My stepfather once tried to make my friends for me. He would approach children in the street and ask them if they would come inside his house and meet his lonely daughters. He would send them into their parents' arms, making whole families hysterical.
      Thank goodness he never came inside my school. My mother always picked me up and dropped me off. School was hard enough without his interventions. I was the victim of pranks, unkindness, even bullying. Fake insects were put in my locker. My hands were stepped on. I was deliberately tripped. Pencil shavings were put in my hair. Water was put in my seat. My fingers were shoved into an electric pencil sharpener. I was framed for cheating. Which of course I didn't do. I was marking a kid's test, I was still learning how to spell, I wrote a letter in my name backwards, he thought I was erasing his answers and the teacher never gave me a chance to explain myself. School was tough, and I faked illness so often just to get the fuck out of there. I was abandoned several times. Once in the library. I lost focus on what the teacher was saying and had to wander the halls until the teacher realized I was missing and sent someone to find me. And once in the ditch. I got dizzy, I walked sideways and fell in, and they kept walking. Never looked back. Fortunately my mother was driving by and she saw me. By then some kids were pulling me out of the grass, and I just got into the car and asked to be driven home. I don't think I waved to those kids or even thanked them for getting me back to my feet. I hope I thanked them, but that's the one part of that incident I can't recall.
      One person. Just one with a kind heart and I'd find so much I'm missing. 

First Day Of The Fourth Month

      April has been wonderful so far. I didn't think it would be. I washed my hair at 1:00 AM because I knew I would be getting up a little later than planned to start my day. But that problem never occurred, because I barely slept; which of course put me in a grouchy morning mood. Honestly, I thought today would suck, and I would go into a few billion stores and come home empty-handed. But, today was my lucky day! I no longer need to rely on video sites to watch Tangled. I am a proud DVD copy owner. It's still all nicely wrapped up in its plastic, proudly situated on my bookshelf where I keep only the best movies I own. It comes right after the Shrek series and the sequel featuring Puss in Boots. The cat in the hat.
      I also got to satisfy my craving for a chicken burger, even though it came from a restaurant from where my family never wants to order again. The burger was a bit greasy, and the meat was a bit tough, but I devoured it before going to the next store (but maybe that's because my mother waited as I finished chewing the last few bites). And just when I thought my day was done, I even got to order a Sprite.
      My brother bought the third season of The Walking Dead. He doesn't want to watch it tonight, or even wait until Sunday to see it. He said he bought it because he knew I wanted to see it. Isn't that nice? And then, after an unproductive nap (which was nice to try to take anyway), I made my bed and hung up my receipt for Tangled, and with only seconds to spare my brother knocked on my door and said the pot roast was ready. I love pot roast! And it's really, really good dipped in instant potatoes.
      Now, in all my lonesome, I'm off to watch the first episode of Season Three of The Walking Dead. I was going to sneak in some golden bars, even though I'm not technically allowed to be eating in here (even though it is my room and I'm a legal adult paying rent). But, one tiny square won't be enough for an hour, so I'm just going to refill my water and toddle off without my favorite dessert (like a good little girl). You know, even if I do crumb on the floor, which doesn't happen if you break it off over a bowl and keep a hand under it until it's in your mouth, which I do; it's not like we don't have a vacuum. (And today, I'm not even wearing a dress. Know what I mean?) I mean, I have just as much free will as you. I'm twenty-one years, four months and twenty-six days old; and I have to abide by these kiddy rules. Like earlier today, Mom didn't even want me to sit in the car by myself; which I've done so many times that I couldn't even try to count each occasion. The doors do lock, and I was sitting behind one of those annoying windows for kids, the ones that don't go all the way down. My brother tried sticking up for me; but because their store was closed she didn't have to leave me by myself. She backed out of her parking stall and drove to another store; and for the rest of the day, if I didn't get out of the car, someone stayed with me.
      I guess I do need to move out to taste some freedom. That stinks, because my stepfather once tried to get my thirty-something year-old brother to sit in Santa's lap; and back then she would give us more freedom. I swear, she's working in reverse. She wasn't this protective of me as a kid. I mean, she was protective, and she did go the extra mile. But now she's running laps around the border. "I don't want you sitting in the car alone." "I don't want to see dishes anywhere except in the kitchen and dining room!" "I'm keeping a chart of when everyone takes a shower." "Write down every time you get dizzy. And your period!"
      Christ Almighty, I'm going mad. I mean today, I had to start an argument just so she would make my stop. She was expecting me to just submissively accept the fact that everyone's plans are being executed except for mine. No. I'm tired of being unheard. I just wanted a movie, I knew exactly where I could find it, I was able to afford it on my own dime, I didn't get any sleep because I was anticipating this day for a week, and I washed my hair at 1 friggin AM; make the damn stop.
      So. Anyway. Today we passed by this place; and I saw a very disturbing license plate. I won't give out the numbers, for the safety of whomever owns that car. But the first word was my stepfather's name. The last letters were my initials. That pissed me off. It was the last thing I wanted to see. Maybe I'm superstitious, but I kind of saw it as a sign that he's just not dead yet. My mom told me it was a coincidence, don't get so mad; so I said, "Wouldn't you, if those initials were yours?" And of course, she didn't answer, so I knew I'd said the right thing.
      I don't mean I want him to be dead. My heart is unfortunately not made of stone, I do miss him. But he was a jerk. And ever since he died, I've been having vivid dreams where he stumbles into our path and I yell at him for faking his death and my sister and I are beating on him with our sticks. And there's a lot of cussing and crying and then my sister welcomes him back into her life and I still want to beat something up, but she's not letting me. And I've been getting texts and phone calls from his number, and now I see that stupid license plate! All coincidence? Even though he'd been thought as dead before?
      A quote from Rat Race comes to mind, said by my favorite character: "You can't kill him, he's like a cockroach!" Not that I ever beat him up (with anything except a purse, because he once came up from behind me in a store, matching my speed, which you do not do to a girl walking all by herself) or tried to kill him, but my point is that I just don't believe he's dead. I know he wasn't an immortal, he either is dead or will be someday, but I just don't believe he's gone just yet. Sue me.

Another Month Gone

      Don't forget to flip your calendars - happy April!
      In other news, why do people put lowercase Q's in the place of lowercase G's? They are four keys and one row apart! Do they not realize how absolutely and ridiculously stupid it looks? It's not cool, and it stopped being a trend in 2008. Now you're not just a retard; you're also outdated.
      I mean, I can understand it if you're new to the language. At least then you're just trying to communicate with someone who doesn't speak your own. (But seriously, get a teacher.)
      So, here we are, April Fools' Day; a time at which jackasses who deserve a kick in the knickers victimize anyone they see. If you see funny signs in your hometown, just know this. My brother helped kick that idea into execution. Yes, there is a story behind it; and no, I will not tell you unless you have my email address. And no, I am not giving it out. Not like anyone who doesn't have my email address ever ghosts by my profile. Oh well. I, the monarch of solitary confinement, do confess that reigning in isolation is a choice; and that my solitude may be interspersed with company that comes by but may not stay. Signed, The Willfully Regnant Jackass Queen.
      Goodnight, amigos and amigas of the unknown world. May we meet again, though not right away.