The Catcher of Dogs.

This is a dream I had last night. Well, most of it. I added scenes and tried to mesh it together so it would come across as a meshing story. If you can help it out with criticism, that'd be swell. I also want to change the name, so I'm open to suggestions on that part;

The Dog Catcher

I was sitting on the grass with Joe at the park, reading city and local rules laws and regulations about keeping a dog. I thought it would be best to know the legalities, being in a new town. Scotty was with us, on a leash. He was a small Scottish terrier, gray in color. Overall, he’s not the typical Scottie. He was coy and loyal, quite and contented.

I was picking up the end of the leash, preparing to go when a dog catcher came along. He saw Scotty and made to pick him up. The man chased Scotty around my blanket, unable to snatch him. I merely picked Scotty up from this mini chase.

“That’s a stray dog.” The man said. A quizzical look came upon my face. Obviously annoyed by this mans stupidity. “You know we have rules about things like that around here.” He spat at me. Pure evil was writ on his countenance.

“I know then rules. He’s on a leash. I hold the end of that leash.” I contorted still holding Scotty.

“My mistake...” The man’s face changed to that of a contented stalker. It was that of a man watching his prey, with a small sickly smile on his lips. I turned and walked off, leaving the man staring after me. I also left Joe behind asleep on the blanket at the park. I was sure he’d understand later.

Joe came back and required an explanation, which I gladly gave him. He’d not seen the dog catcher, but was very concerned having perceived the situation from my point of view.

…

Joe and I decided it would be best to let a room in our home. The house was large enough with plenty of bedrooms, and it was only the two of us with Scotty. We had several inquiries but no one stuck. Eventually I left Joe to figure out the situation on his own. I trusted him enough for that. Weeks went by, until one day, on my return home with Scotty; there was a car in the drive. Curiosity seized me; I picked up my pace excited to see who was there. Joe had let the room. He introduced me to a man called Boyd. I could have sworn I’d met this man before.

“Pleased to meet cha” he’d said. His voice, the look in his eyes, and that smirk that played as his smile, set me off. But I could not place him. I welcomed him attempting to put my suspicions aside. Joe said he liked the man fine, when I brought up my qualm later, when we were in private. I just had a bad feeling. I was certain I’d met, seen and heard this man before.

Over time, my feelings of unease did not subside. I started to sense Boyd’s secret sadistic stares. I took to taking Scotty with me everywhere, he became like my well behaved small child. I don’t know why specifically, but I did not trust the man around my dog, or my self, for any matter.

…

After a long day with Scotty at the office, I came home already with the feeling of apprehension weighing heavy.

“Joe?” I called out when I opened the door. No answer. All of the lights were on, I knew he was home. “Joe, are you home?” the feeling of trepidation continued to grow. The sense of utter peril, that something hand undoubtedly gone wrong was imminent. I was working myself into a frenzy, and my hand was still on the knob, where I stood in the door with Scotty.

I heard a crash from somewhere in the back of the house. I took off in the direction of the sound, through the house, with leash in hand. The closet door was open, and there lay a huge mess strewn across the hall and down into the sitting room.

“Joe?” I meekly uttered, expecting to be stunned with the worst. “Are you here?” a tremor ran thru my voice. There came a rustling from the other side of the closet door. Joe stepped out covered in dust and grime. The look of him put a shock thru me. He looked like one of those zombies from a Hollywood picture. He only lacked to gait when he emerged from the closet. A slight bob was in his manner as he stood there staring at the chaos in the hall before him. He’d still not noticed me and Scotty standing there. With his staggered head bob, he mechanically turned his head, surveying the items that lie before him. I was stock still. Alarm must still have been on my face. When he bobbed his head finally in our direction, he jumped and gave a start.

“Geezes! You startled me!” he yelped, pulling ear-buds from his ears. I’d not noticed them before. That accounted for the head bobbing. “I didn’t hear you come in.” he continued.

“I gathered.” A general calm was in my voice as I began to relax.

“I thought I’d clean out this walk-in. there’s so much stuff in here we don’t use.” This was true; the evidence in front of me was enough to convince me of that.

“Well, good luck with that.” I said turning to go shut the front door, though the feeling of unease still was gnawing at my belly.

…

I still had a worry on my mind. It would not subside over time. Nor would it spare me from the scares that seemed to be coming at me almost regularly now. Each seemed to have little to no foundation for my fears. I wondered if I were going crazy. Why I was imagining bad things happening. Why I always thought the worst of everything. I jumped to conclusions involving the worst case scenarios. But the feeling of foreboding was prevalent everywhere I went, and then intensified at home.

Boyd didn’t give me much trouble. I was still on edge with him. We’d talk and be civil around each other. Joe even spent time with him as friends would. But the look in his eyes and the smirk on his face all the time, made it hard for me to try and trust him. I did not trust him.

…

After dinner one evening, maybe a month or three after my scare with Joe in the hall closet, all three of us were home. Joe was cleaning up the house during the commercials of his show on television. Boyd was probably watching with him. Scotty was by my side as I did the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. I’m sure he didn’t like that I’d taken to leaving his leash and collar on at all times. It was only for my own security and to calm my fears that I felt the need to keep Scotty near me. It was a long leash, but not too long, that I could ever loose site of him. Still, it helped very little with the calming of my nerves.

“You know Scotty…” I was talking to the dog! “I am sorry about the leash. You don’t mind, do you? ...” the sounds from the living room filtered around the door. It was a low murmur of conversation with the accent of the televisions as a mere background noise to my background noise. “They probably think I’m crazy.” I sighed. “But you understand, right?” I’d become a little calmer over the passing weeks with each scare. I was getting used to the feelings that rode on me like a leech. “Of course you understand.” Scotty looked up at me. A smile danced in his puppy dog eyes. “You know I’m not crazy, I’m just…” there came what sounded like a muffled yelp. “… oversensitive.” The last word leaked from my lips as a whisper, as my fear grabbed hold of me full strength once again.

I picked up Scotty and held him close to my breast, like a mother gripping her child. Awkward and uneasily I walked through the swinging kitchen door. The low hum from the television still played, but all conversations had ceased. Warily, I walked down the hall towards the landing that led to the sitting room. There was no one there. Startled by movement form the corner of my eye, I turned toward the stairwell. Boyd and Joe came from behind the crevice created by the wall. Joe was hardly moving. He looked almost paralyzed and was gasping for breath, only no sound of air thru in passage came. He was upright and walked forward mechanically when pushed. A look of terror was caressed his face. He looked at me pleadingly, with the eyes of someone about to die. Boyd had him by the collar bone. The same look that always was on his face plagued it now. Only now it seemed even more sinister than I could ever have imagined.

“You know…” Boyd said casually. I stood dumbfounded and completely engaged by my despair. “We have rules about dogs around here.” His smile deepened into a sneer. It came back to me in a flood. This was the dog Catcher!

The recognition and fear must have shown on my face. He laughed, NO cackled. Boyd started side stepping with Joe in tow. I countered his steps in the opposing direction. The dog catcher spoke menacingly, but quietly at me. “I do believe I have a few loose ends to take care of, and then I’ll be needing to move out. Consider this my notice.” He was still inching closer to the closet. He opened it up and pushed Joe inside. “This will only take a minute.” I was now at the base of the stair, with no where else to turn. “I don’t like an audience when I kill.” I gasped in horror. A slight laugh escaped him again, and he stepped into the closet.

I was frozen. I stood for what seemed like an eternity. Everything was silent. I couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of my heart and the whirr of my blood as it circulated past my ears. I didn’t even hear if Joe gave a final scream. I didn't hear if his bones broke or he was able to take a final breath after all. I slowly started backing up the stairs. I willed myself to move when I sensed the fear emanating thru Scotty’s body. When I felt Joes life force was gone. The dog catcher emerged from the closet. His face was smeared with blood, his hands and the front of his shirt, stained in the gore that was once my Joe.

He smiled a ghastly side smile, revealing pearly white canines. “Tasty” He guffawed. “Who’s next?”

I turned and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. I slammed and locked the landing door behind me. Then I darted into my room doing the same. There was no way out up here. No way would I be able to find one in time. I could hear his steps on the stairs, coming up slowly. He was biding his time. I searched in vain for a place to hide. The closet was the only place I could find. I went in and locked this too. Pressing myself against the clothes, I clutched a freighted Scotty. I waited and watched thru the slits. All I could see was my bed against the opposite wall. All I could hear were the steps of the man who held my imminent end.

Too soon, much too soon, I could hear him in the hall. He’d gotten thru the landing door with no sounds of struggle. I then had the stifle the fist whimpers I heard from Scotty. Shushing him I fear we gave away our position. Not that it would have taken long for him to find us. He was now at my door. He merely turned the knob and crept in. My eyes widened in horror. Hadn’t I locked them?

What sort of man was this? Who could come into a home and befriend a man, then turn and kill him with no evidence of remorse? Who could walk thru locked doors uninhibited? Why had he come to torment us?

“Now where could they be?” He spoke as if this was some sort of game of Hide-and-go-seek one plays with small children. He knelt down and peered under the bed. “Nope, nut under here. Not behind the bureau... or under the desk.” He narrated his every move. Standing with hands on hips, pretending to be stumped… “Must have left. I guess I’ll just have to wait a while fro them to get back.” He moved over and ventured to prop himself up on my bed. He leaned up against the headboard, brought his legs out in front of him and folded his hands behind his head. He sat there staring in my direction. He stared thru the tiny slits. Into my eyes he stared, boring a chasm into my soul.

The beginings of Chapter one.

I'm thinking I will create a new blog/thread/thing for the posts of my story. When they are in their more final form at least. For now, I'll spew then chapters/scenes onto paper, as per usual, and type them up accordingly.

Disclaimer: In no way do the people, thoughts, and events happening in this story represent real persons, thoughts or events. They may have been spawned from the inspiration of actual events, but are beyond that; Unrelated. Also! all of the writings here are mine. As with all of my posts.

Ok, Here goes;

Chapter 1

“I never know how to start these things.” I’d told him. Now, I was using these same words to start a chronicle of my life. How pathetic. Was I truly that uncreative?

November 12, 2008

I never know how to start these things. But now is as good a time as any to begin. I figured it would be a good idea to start a journal to chronicle my thoughts, if I want to become a great. I choose now because my life has taken some drastic changes recently, and maybe a journal will help me to get thru this by letting me see things in a way that may help to lead towards greatness. I’m not sure yet where I specifically am going with this yet, but a rusty start is better than no start at all. Me

If I had known then that these would be the first words written in the journal of the most profound tie of my life, I may have put a little more thought into them. Then again, if I would have known it would become that profound, I may not have ventured down that road at all.

…

My story really starts long before my fist journal entry. Long before the thoughts came to start the events that led to the journal entries. My story starts even before there was a reason for the other parties involved in the circumstances that led to the possibility of my writing a journal for any variety of unrelated reasons came up. (Convoluted much?)

I begin my story with a rash decision to move. Not this most recent, in perspective to journal entries, move, but the one before that. My mother was off on a vacation with my siblings. Doing missions, or visiting family, I’m not sure anymore which. All I know is I couldn’t go along because I had to attend classes still. Why I choose that school, out of my many options, is now far beyond me. Who really wants to waste their summer months in a tiny classroom full of wanna-be artists? I ask you! No sane person, that’s for sure. But alas, that is where I found myself. Instead of vacationing with loved ones. I spent my summer furthering my education. Bah!

It was during these long summer months that I spent all of my free time, (what little of it I had, not spent in school, or at work) gallivanting with friends, and as little time as possible in my mother’s empty house. One day; it came up, that I could have the opportunity to occupy a free room in one of my friend’s homes. I jumped at the option to be away from my mother’s home. Oh, to be free from parents, to finally be my own person. Within days; I was already unpacking at my new abode.

Now this doesn’t fall into the category of rash decisions’ for any more reason than the pace of it happening. I could afford it theoretically; I’d made sure of that. I had a job, and could still pay any regular bills. The trouble started, helped me to see where I’d erred, when I graduated from my fine, dastardly school, and then promptly got laid off. Oh the Humanity! But I didn’t complain. I’d had a good long go with the company. I was glad to have had the opportunity with them in the first place, having had no prior experience in my field. Everyone I knew who’d also been a recent graduate, and even some who weren’t so recent, had been laid off around the same time as I. The economy was doing down the drain, and each company sought to cut costs were they deemed necessary. My department was the first to go.

It was after a long series of events and circumstances; falling in love, getting my heart broken, hearing and believing lies, not being able to pay rent any longer, my car breaking down, My computer crashing, and laptop monitor malfunctioning, invariably; the search for the right next stem in options. I decided it best to move across the country to live with, and work for, dear old dad. A man I’d not seen in over ten years, a man whom I’d not really spoken with for months on end. When we did speak; it was the occasional phone call full of typical empty promises of grandeur he was known for. Stupid Girl! I choose this path, for the promise of having work, and the potential for greatness. Oh, if I’d only listened to reason. I knew the potential of such frivolity, but still I went. Granted It’s not been as bad as the masses anticipated for me. But my rose colored glasses for this time and place had mod definitely come off shortly after my arrival.

November 13, 2008

I have been here two months, and I’ve only had three projects I’m not complaining. I am glad for the work, but I fear I’ll never see the fruits of my labors. Each of these projects has been canceled, and called off before they’ve been brought to completion. And with all of this down time, I could be making myself useful, working towards greatness. I still don’t know what great I want to be. And I don’t know where to go to further myself intellectually around here. I’m afraid that if I start planting roots, I rather won’t like them in the long run, or my father will have us move. He’s already talking about buying a building for his business way up north. We’ll just have to wait and see what comes of that. Me

…

Sorry for my Falsities; I recant.

I've been convicted! I've told a falsity. I meant to rectify it when the matter was brought before my attention... I do have some friends that could be called closer. Now I'm going to call them out by their real names... Something I wasn't going to do in this Blog, but alas; it is necessary to clear the air. There are some who are mindful of me on various levels, who do remember me, but are too far away to be called close on the top of my head. These friends of mine are the closest friends I have, not for all of the same reasons; Stacy, Erik, Heather, Theresa, Janelle, and Eric.

Spur of the moment Meeting!

I need to choose songs. I need inspiration. I need a theme. That is my newest task. A theme for an album... Any suggestions? While you're at it; I also need a theme/style for my novel, and a way to start... I want to have the story line down before I write the scenes... Just so I won't stray too far and pander...

The weird thing about this past week was spending time with my family. Yes, I do this a lot. But this was with family I don't really know. Just because of a lack of opportunity to know them. I'd like to be closer. But then I am afraid they won't like me if they knew me. Not that my family that 'knows' me doesn't like me... I don't think I feel I can be the real me around most of them either, because I do know them... I understand what upsets them, and I edit/filter myself in their presences. Not that I wouldn't do that for these... Uuuuugh! what Am I saying? ...

I don't want to be afraid to be me! I want to have someone that I can be me around 100%!

The Ideology of a Revolving Door.

So I'm not wanting to just come here today and be all emo. But that may be what comes of this. I often say I have no friends. When I say this; I'm not talking about all of the people I'm friendly with. Or the people who occasionally agree to be seen in public with me... I mean; there is no one that I can just call and do things with. No one who knows me well enough to be called my close friend. In my Webster, there are three definitions of friend; 1. a person whom one knows well and is fond of. 2. an ally, supporter, or sympathizer. 3. A member of the society of friends; Quaker. Close has 2 titles and the first has 11 definitions; 8. intimate; familiar [close friend]. Taking this as my definition... there is no one I feel I connect with on an intimate level. No one is familiar with the real me. There are a few people who are closer than others, but overall; They're still distant. It's not like I want them to be distant. I don't want to be left alone 100% of the time. A close friend could feel comfortable to invade my space at times... A close friend could feel confident to call me out on things that I'd need to be called out on. A close friend might even get my sense of humor, ideologies, theories, tastes, and ideas... regardless if we agreed on them. But no. No one has the time of day to spend on me. I am to remain always forgotten. I am the one that everyone smiles at but doesn't get to know. I am the company you enjoy as an alternative to standing by yourself, until a better option comes along. I am she who sits at home every night until I feel it safe to suggest myself as an addition to the party. I am the one that you may call a friend, but you do nothing to cultivate the friendship for. I don't require that much work... Just talk to me. do something with me every once in a while. and don't act like you're pretending. I don't really know what I want. Poo! (A friend would retort to my saying; Whoever said nothing is impossible, never tried slamming a revolving door... "Chuck Norris could slam a revolving door") That's it; I am destined to be my own best friend. Van and Johanna; BFF's!

More scenes on a vacant timeline.

I had an idea for this one... kinda... and a little after the fact. Sooo... actually, I guess it's not just for this one. I'm also not sure it would work either. I thought; 'Hey, what if I show the progression of the psyche of my main character by journal entries?' It could work... I could start out in a quasi-sane literary style and as time progresses; I could make it either more convoluted, or screwy. Like I could go from first person entries to third person... or something. Normal everyday lingo, to a Medieval styled poetic angst. An everyday conversational tone to a methodical rhyme and meter... who knows. It's at least something to think about. Any who.

To escape the conversation of the locals, she walked out of the building and headed for the car. The night proved to be a typical one of the region, arm and muggy. So she stealthily slipped off her cardigan without removing the bag now slung across her body. Caring not that if anyone were about at this late hour, they would see her spots and button at the absence of cloth that was the back of her halter dress. Wiping the bugs away with her newly removed cardigan from the side of the car, she quickly got in to wait for her party to realize she'd left, and then join her. While she waited she pondered the existence of the tiny almost transparent teeny white bugs that now decorated the outside of her window. They had tiny feelers that were continuously twitching as they hung on to the side of the car in the light. One bug had gotten inside the vehicle and was menacingly twittering against the window in a feeble attempt to reach the outside. As she methodically squashed it with the heel of her hand and wiped it's remains on the carpet, her party finally reached the car and opened the door. Still in full conversation with the locals, they were backing in. Not wanting to seem in too much of a hurry so as to be thought of as rude, but to still give off a hint to her passenger. She stuck the key into the ignition loudly, and kept her hand there. Waiting for her first opportunity to turn it... Her party; still slowly moving in the direction of an exit from their current company, finally sat and had a hand on the door. she turned the key and they finally said their goodbyes as the door shut. Not giving in to her impatience she made time to wave goodbye as their recent company retreated back indoors, before kicking the car into reverse and high tailing it out of there. This was one place she loathed to come back to. she desperately did not enjoy the company of these former and long winded hippies who barely gave her a smidgen of respect and failed to hint at common decency towards her. Sh did not look forward to her necessary return the following week for the collection of the project she'd needed to mission them for. But this was the only place to find what she needed without having to go the extreme measures. As she turned the corner, she thought; 'These measures seem pretty extreme.'

And here's some more of my lovely idea towards a beginning... perhaps I'll incorporate flash backs... if I do use the journal entries, perhaps I won't use only journal entries. Maybe I'll have a general narrative, and incorporate the journal entries for the purpose of letting us see into our 'heroines' mind... or not. Here's a one liner type flashback either way.

She had thought of the idea as menacing. Secretly the idea was growing on her. She dared not make this known though. For in the past; everything she could see coming to pass, with he minds eye, didn't ever come to fruition.

Just a little something... Was Superman a Vampire?... 'More powerful than a locomotive... Faster than a speeding bullet... able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.... It's a bird, it's a plane, it's... Edward Cullen?'

His stares continued to plague me for sometime, unwavering... Until I realized the screen had frozen.

Brought forth from the ashes of the Pyre...

I've been reading allot of 'amateur' posts lately. Including; stories, poetry... Non-fiction stuffs. And it's inspiring to say the least. People just going out and doing it. Or sitting down and doing it. And it gets me to thinking... Why can't I just take the initiative and just do, or at least work towards what I aspire to? Nope, no real answer that can't be immediately dashed away as moot points, or have an opposing statement that should cause me to hang my head in shame. Soooo... I've decided I will start again on the progression of my VanPyre Mansion. No it has nothing to do with Vampires, and I have been contemplating even attempting this story... I have to foundations for it as of late, due to the lack of change in my circumstances to gear myself in the direction of the plot and the characters plight. So... (gee I say that allot) I will be trying to hammer out more unrelated scenes again that may, or may not make it into the final story... I can't just start; I still don't have a specific direction that I want this to go... There's not plot or storyline per say. Just the fact of that I know; It is a story of a girl who eventually gives herself over to the inter workings of her mind. It may continue of from there. I'm not sure about conflict. Or resolution yet... So, I'll stop now, with all of these words, and just get to thinking.

Only Fear of Self

My dad sent me an e-card. He sends me a lot of e-cards. But this one, it was an e-card with an attached song. The song attached always makes me cry. I knew the song was attached to the e-card, but when I pressed play; I started crying anyway. Both times I watched it. It's one of those songs that makes you question yourself. It says, I want to be this. I want to Be more than I am, and then you feel convicted because you're not that. You're not more. You're not enough, and you could be so much better.

"... I want to leave a legacy How will they remember me? Did I choose to love? Did I point to You enough To make a mark on things? ... "

I'm not more, I'm not enough. So, this is my call to action (mostly for myself). I will be more. I will choose to love. I will not be only what I am currently. I will make the most of my life. This whole thing goes along with my new five year plan... But; why am I only who I am and not more, not who I want to be? Because, sad to say; I am afraid. I am so afraid of the judgement of others. Mostly the judgment of those who are supposed to not cast judgement. Not supposed to by who they say they are. But I feel inadequate. Therefore, I've cast a judgment on them. Poo! No one is perfect. It's been my argument in defense of these same people to others; They're just people, they too are only human. But I want to expect more from them, and I want to expect more from me, and I want them to expect something from me, and to walk with me and lead me, and to guide me, and to care, all at the same time. When I'm in their presence, I am merely gripped by fear. Fear due to all of my past transgressions and sins, even those forgiven and repented. They will still judge me. They've done it before, How could any of them be different... I could maybe be myself in other circumstances, around other people... which I have been closer too. But it's not the best me, it's just the me that is. The me gripped by different fears. The me afraid to tell them, because they will stereotype me into the same heap as the them from before, and I am only human. As they too are only human. And they cycle continues...

But I will be better. I can get passed this. I will be more.

"... And now that I'm here Should I tell them that You are the one who has made me And saved me and set up a home there inside Should I tell them that I am a perfect example Of all You can do with a life. What should I say to them? What if I'm failing them? What should i tell the tonight?... "

Life as a new lightweight.

I don't know how accurate this is; but they say this is post 150. That seems like a pretty consequential number. But what I have to say may seem a little inconsequential. Only because I wish to remain an inconsequential nobody in most peoples lives. Like I just told my dad. MOST of the time... Most of the time, I don't want to be looked at like a 'girl', I would prefer to be seen as just another person. I think this may be because of the way I was raised. No, seriously. Growing up, I had to go everywhere with my brother. I.E; He would want to go out with his friends, So to ensure that they were good boys; I was sent along. I was also not allowed to go almost anywhere without him. Not such a bad sentence for him, I never went anywhere, because I had no friends. In turn, on occasion, His friends became my friends. I get along better with guys, because I knew how to interact with them better, and I simply have just spent more time with them. So I think I'm more or less programmed to think that way; these guys are my friends, and/or I am just 'Pie's sister' or 'Ent's cousin' and am not a 'sexual' or hormonal threat to anyone.

But alas, it cannot be so. UUUUGH! There's bound to be some guys that let their hormones take over and don't see me as just another person. Poo. Which is fine. Such is life. It's not like I'm completely A-sexual or anything. I've not sworn off the male species as a whole. I'm not a nun. I'm not a lesbian. I'm not even bi. I just don't want to get into that right now. Yes, society, the way that it is right now, has bred this thought process to be thought as insane, not right, or even retarded. But I'm not looking to get jiggy at this point. I want to go out and enjoy my life. I don't need the whole hormone circus to do so. So; if I come across as naive to your moves, or am not picking up on the hints, no matter how blatant. I'm either truly naive to them, or I don't want it. Which both are probably true. Sorry guys. I do want a man, just not yet. And when I have him, he'll REALLY want ME. Call me old fashioned. But I don't see the need for unnecessary heartbreak and complications. As the song says(paraphrased); 'I'm young, and I love to be young, and I'm free, oh I love to be free, live my life the way that I want free to do whatever I please...' (no that I've typed them out I don't think that's exactly right, meh)

And of course all of this is screaming in my mind more clearly now that I'm a lighter weight than I used to be. I'm talking about drinking. I used to be able to keep up with Rocky. Not so much anymore. After 2 now, I really start to feel it. After 4 my mind and stomach are like 'NO, stop!' and then my body acts drunk, but my logic is mostly in tact. In tact enough to say no before it goes too too far. Bad joojoo. (I've never typed that before, huh) If I were completely sober, No guy would try to take advantage of me I'm quite sure. I only say this because no one has in the past. Bad joojoo. Well at least I'm not a featherweight, who knows what would happen then.

I'm not sure I said exactly what I needed to, but I'm pretty sure I made a point.

My how time does fly

Only one more week until my inevitably lame birthday. Okay, that may be a tad harsh. But if I just expect the worse; I'll be pleasantly surprised if it actually doesn't suck terribly. Yes? yes. I'm still thinking about what exactly my plans will be for the day; and surrounding it. I suppose it might go something like this; Shower and do my hair and stuff Wednesday before work, Close, Next day; the 28th! Go to breakfast with dad (Oh geeze! I don't know if he'll do that again?!... it was tradition before I lived so far away from him...) Then during the day; shower and do my hair; then go out to Whitewater with Colby... then next day; open, then shower and do my hair... That's way loose for planning. I'll think about it. Oh yes; I want to thank everyone in advance for remembering me on my birthday, and helping to make it a positive, and good one (wink, wink). I hope my stomach gets better before then, it's still not 100% from last Sunday. Poo!Last year; I 'partied' harder and was fine comparatively. Come to think of it; Last weekends events were exactly a year after birthday weekend last year; that four day period that I went non-stop, and hit my zenith of... Immorality(?). That's Intense... No, not like camping.

The plan is; Curl up and be depressed.

Yay! I get to start to hunker down and prepare for what is undoubtedly going to go down as one of my lamest and/or worst birthday's ever. The only thing I WANT for my birthday mostly every year is; T0 spend time with my friends. But; lo-and-behold; This year; I Have NO friends. None who'll be around for my birthday. I've even gone down the list (small as it may be) of my 'friends': Cho=Too busy with school and whatnot; it's been however many months and still haven't heard from Cho. Holly and the wifey; same story as Cho. There's no one else left in the area from that time in my life. All of my other 'friends' are in SoCal, or moved from there, or Abroad. No one to celebrate with. Poo! Besides that. Why would someone want to do my birthday with me, if they don't want to see me/hang out any other time? Lame. Here's another one for the History books. I'll get over it someday. maybe. Probably not anytime soon. There are only about 15 days till my birthday and it's not planned because I can't plan anything. I'm about 2 and a half months behind on my planning. Poo! I just want My Friends. So I get none.

Excrement!

I think I'm over it, and that I can be normal finally, but then I let it all get to me once again. Insanity! Well, poo... I do apologize for my crazy antics. I don't mean to sound/be crazy. But I do/am. I don't know where to go from here... I don't know if I've ruined it. Again. I can be such a poop! Crap! And I'm not even trying to. If anything; I am making an attempt at the opposite. This is all nonsense.