Blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah blah. Blah blah. Blah. Blah blah blah blah blah.

OK. That was about it. But I will keep writing. Now that I think about it, there is more to say.

Vasselman wrote me a nice, warm email. Made me feel good that she though I made her feel good. She seems to be doing very well for herself. She deserves it! So do I, but my time is not yet. It's OK. I have a lot of patience.

The cats are all being so warm and lovey. Aidan has turned into the biggest, sweetest thing on the planet. And the kittens are not far behind. But they refuse to stay off the counter. And Biscuit also has a penchant for knocking over the garbage cans in the house and attacking the garbage bag inside. Kinda weird. Hard to curb, as you can imagine.

I just composed a long, cathartic letter that I hope I will give to the intended recipient sometime soon. It feels good, and I need to keep an accurate survey of my own pain versus that inflicted upon me. I need to know when to draw the line. That's easy. But toeing the line, on the other foot, is really difficult. And that is my Waterloo. I need to summon my strength to hold fast exactly where I am at now. It is a good-feeling place.

I have been missing taking pictures lately. Well, for the past 5 years. I used to take a lot of pictures a lot of the time. I used to write more for myself, too. I miss me. Maybe that is an important part that I never fully realized. It must now become a priority. Tomorrow is a new day and that is what I will do.

Good night to you all!

First, a question: What exactly are a friend's responsibilities to their best friend?

OK, time to move on. Got the new truck registered the other day. I was simply amazed it passed the emissions test here. You see, the company I work for (even though I would like to think it works for me!) refused to give me a decent raise, so they made up for it with a good deal on a second vehicle. Which is appreciated, but it costs about $150 to register and inspect it. And it adds about $600 a year to my insurance. And, it has 220,000 miles on it. It's in really good shape, and it is 4 wheel drive. But still. I suppose this gift horse should not be what I am looking at.

So, moving on again. My brother's family is more tumultuous than ever. Him and his wife (I dare not call her my sis-in-law) are trying to make everyone think the poor 16 year-old is an insane troublemaker. And Andrew isn't even from this marriage! He is from the relationship that ended the day before my brother began dating his now-wife. Weird. So they are trying to get him committed. And it isn't working. I wouldn't put it past my brother (a die-hard stoner) to plant something naughty in his own son's backpack and turn him in, simply to get rid of him. So this is a bit of drama. And my parents are coming out here to visit this summer with every intention of taking Andrew back East with them and never returning him. I only hope they do it like they say they will, filing a grievance and pressing charges, questioning the fitness of the household. It's a sad state when you find yourself wishing your only sibling would be incarcerated. But I do. He was never a good brother to me growing up. But that is a tale for another week.

Still trudging forward...The bar is calling me, and I am so hesitant to go. But I will. Just not tonight. It will do me good, to see some strangers, and some familiar faces. And even have a couple tall dark Guinnesses. It will do me very good. It has been weeks since I have had any. They make me smile. And they taste good. And they are filling! So no worries about over-indulging!

One of my favorite places to visit online is urbandictionary.com . They tell me that a friend is "Someone who stabs you in the front." Perfect. Or, "A common misspelling of enemy." Even better! Or, "An acquaintance that you CLAIM to like, but actually secretly hate them." Tasty. Fun to read and laugh at. Funny how we humans misuse words. Or mistreat people. or both.

Joke time. And it's kinda lame. But here goes: What do you call a dozen rabbits, walking side-by-side backwards?




A receding hare(hair)line.

Yep. That's it. Clean jokes are somtimes less funny than dirty ones But it still made me smile! Night to you all. Be well.

Lots of things always happening here. Here's a little journal entry I will paste for you all to enjoy.

"She has me so paranoid. I often feel like I have to continuously censer myself. Even in writings like these, in case she finds them in her "snoops". Nothing is safe or sacred. My life is an open book to her. I cannot ever be alone. Anywhere. I cannot ever talk openly or freely. As a joke the other day, she said "Rich, you have to think of me when you are wearing your clothes. I might want to borrow them and I can't if they're dirty." I know it was a joke. But for a second, I took it seriously. And I wonder if the next time I get some of my normal (not work) clothes dirty...will I feel anxious because of what she joked about? My head is messed up.

She lies to me more than I lie to her. The things she says to me, then what she changes them to a month or so later amaze me. And she often never remembers telling me anything in the first place. Like when she told me Shaun and her had done nothing but kiss a few times, and that he was treating her well, and that there was nothing else going on. Now I find out he was a dick to her a bunch of times. And that she sucked him off at least once before sex. And all the while, complaining to me about being open and wanting to share relationship or hookup info, like friends do. Ironic. "

Wild ride, my life is. She has done so many inappropriate things in her life, that she has closets full of little dirty secrets. And even though I know a lot of them, the fact that they are a secret to someone makes her get edgy about it. A lot of times, I am to blame for instigating. But not nearly as much as I used to be. She has taught me gobs about tolerance. But there are other times when she is so short with me, she begins to scream at me and curse and call me names and tell me that the whole argument is my fault. And then....get this... I told her I fell like I get blamed for entire fights a lot, especially during the fight. She disagreed, and even called that feeling "ludicrous". Then she goes on to tell me that maybe a lot of times, but definitely not most, I AM the cause of it all. Nevermind the fact that there is no fight with only one person. Can't be. It's like blaming only the initiator of consentual sex one night for the resultant child. Insanity. Then she goes on to tell me that she's too tired to explain it all back to me when I question this change in stance on the issue. Then she tells me that whomever started the fight (ie-the first aggressive/mean/something comment) is to blame for starting it, and hence the fight that ensues. Some truth there, but then it can be argued that the act or comment that spurred the "initial" comment is to blame. Upon hearing those words from my mouth, she tells me that it's my own damned fault for feeling like I was blamed a lot! She said it was my fault because I didn't "blame her back" more often!!!! Neato, huh? I really need to get the hell out of this life and put this one behind me. I have let it take too many odd turns.... shoulda made that left at Albequerque! So, my life plans from here involve leaving her geographic region. That is one of my main goals. And to repair my flawed credit. Humble goals for a 30-something, I think.

Does anyone know of a good mantra or remedy to instill one's inner strength into their outer persona? I need my words and actions to reflect my thoughts, not just to cover my ass and lessen the impact of the oncoming train. It's like I am going down, but not going down fighting. That makes me feels lame. But at least it has me feeling inspired. We find motivation in the strangest of places.

Love to you all on this Easter Sunday.