Lovely way to start out there dear... but this really is my life. I don't do anything besides go to work and hang out with my daughter. I know it sounds like I'm feeling sorry for myself, and maybe I am, a little bit, but hey... I wouldn't trade my daughter for anything in the entire world.

I don't know how good I'm going to be at keeping this thing going... y'see, vidiots (contraction of 'video' and 'idiots', meaning 'video-game idiots', for those that don't know) run in the family, and I just picked up Final Fantasy III the other day... so every day so far it's been, "Internet? Final Fantasy? Internet? Final Fantasy?"... Last night I caved in and played FF for three hours before passing out... so tonight, it looks like the internet won out. (Obviously. Duh. What does it look like I'm doing? Hello me... wake up!)

And yes, I know, Final Fantasy VII is the big thing now, but I never got to finish the third one!!! It got returned to the person that it was borrowed from when I was halfway through... and that hurt like you wouldn't believe.

You know... I think this is going to be it for the night. I still want to start setting up the photograph page(s), and I want to get a teensy bit of sleep before starting the day tomorrow... so, I'm signing off. 'Night.

Yeah, so, anyways, I've got a crush. And I question I get a lot is, "Why do you have a rule that you should never date a co-worker?" Well, number one, it makes great fodder for the ol' rumour mill. Number two, if you two split it makes the work environment rather uncomfortable. And if those two reasons aren't good enough, well, tough. They're good enough for me.

Add to that the fact that the last boy I had a crush on (who also worked with me at the place that I used to work at before this place) completely and utterly broke my heart- by dating a girl I worked with. Ouch!

It's ok though... I really don't have time for dating anyways... although, just last night I got to go out, by myself, without the baby for the first time since... March. And it was utterly fabulous. (Of course, I could've had the worst time in history, and I still would've thought that it was wonderful.) Being the big 'Harley Weekend' in Milwaukee ( Harley-Davidson's 95th anniversary), they had a free concert in the park... The Wallflowers played. And while I'm really not into the Wallflowers altogether too much, a chance out was too good of an oppurtunity to resist!!! I dunno... I guess it was an okay concert. Still totally looking forward to the Tori Amos concert coming up on July 15th...yet another time I'll be able to get out!

Whew... this is it. Stick a fork in me, I'm done.

"Things are getting desperate
     When all the boys can't be men"
~Tori Amos, 'Raspberry Swirl'

I just got the most wonderfully fantasabulous news yesterday (probably because fate wanted to give me a direct counterpoint to today). The father of my daughter has Moved!! Very Far Away! To the West Coast! 2000 miles away! I'm so very pleased. Now, if only he stays away for the next 17 years, my life will be nigh-on perfect.

I've been thinking a lot lately of what a complete fuck-up our relationship was during the last year and a half that we were together... him so very controlling, not letting me go out with my friends. Him having insane jealous rages, where he pulled my dresser drawer out from the dresser and flinging against the far wall, barely missing my head and the drawer falling into the bassinet where our daughter very well might have been had she been home. His insinuations that he would kill me if I ever left him. The hours of screaming at each other, the absolute insanity he was putting me through. The constant mind-fucks- him telling me one day that he's concerned about me because I'm losing so much weight, the next day telling me (in front of all my friends) as I put away a box of Oatmeal Creme Pies that it was "no wonder you've got such a fat ass." The insane rage he went into when I locked him out of the computer in January ("his" computer that he loved more than either of his daughters, that he took and sold, but *I'm* still paying off the loan for) and he took a *machete* to the monitor (which nothing happened to) and keyboard (which exploded in a shower of letters and numbers) and lamp (which just plain exploded), and then threw the machete across the room at me.

And I used to hear about those girls that stayed in abusive relationships, and I would think, "Damn, what is *wrong* with them? What the hell are they thinking? Just pick up and leave that bastard!". But you know what? I was one of those women, and the courage it takes... to pick up, pack up, and move it on out is just tremendous. To leave a life you've spent the better part of three years building... to rip it all down, to start over from scratch- is absoloutely terrifying. When I look back over the past three years, the only good thing that I have from it is my beautiful daughter. I've lost about $7,000 dollars to him, including the computer. I've lost three years of my life, which cannot be compensated by any measure. I've lost the ability to trust... to be naive. I was careful on the Internet before, now I'm drop-dead paranoid about everyone who I'd not met before. I wish I could somehow be compensated for all I've gone through... but if he just stays away from me & my daughter, I think that it will be good enough.

In reviewing my past experience with boyfriends, I've decided it's time to come up with a few standards. Here they are:

1) Has a steady, decent job. By decent I mean something better than, say, McDonalds. And getting paid for the work they do is a big added plus.

2) Gotta like kids. I mean, I have one. It wouldn't make sense to get with a guy that hates kids.

3) A guy that takes care of me, for a change. I'm sick 'n tired of doing everything for the guys... shelling out money whenever he needs it, paying for dates, for dinner, for coffee, for bills, for the guy's speeding tickets, ect. (though I have to admit, I do hope the next guy doesn't get speeding tickets.) I'm sick of being the only one in the relationship who buys the flowers. I don't want to be the only one who buys the little gifts that really mean something. Those days are over.

Basically, I'm just going to do my best to guarantee that I'm not going to be taken for a ride anymore. I've had it up to here with people taking advantage of me. I'm a lot more cynical and jaded and suspicious and paranoid than I used to be, but hopefully that won't drive anyone away. or most anyone. Or something like that.

And for my final send-off tonight... In 'The Silence of the Lambs' Hannibal Lecter calls Clarice Starling (in the movie, he writes her in the book) and informs her that "I have no plans for calling on you Clarice, the world being more interesting with you in it." (Thomas Harris, "The Silence of the Lambs")

Wow. Think about that for a second. A brilliant man, whom the tests can't even begin to define... a man more intelligent that many... (yeah, just forget the cannibalism here for a second, ok? If you saw the movie or read the book, you know that he really was an amazing person, personal habits, and food preferences aside.)

If someone like Hannibal Lecter told me that the world was a more interesting place with me in it... Damn. That would most likely be the best ever compliment I've ever received in my entire life. Wow.

'Night.

The batteries in my car stereo are completely worn out. (Yes, my car stereo uses batteries. Why? Because my car didn't come with a stereo, that's why. So I picked up an itty-bitty Kmart stereo for $7.99 and that's my car stereo. My car didn't even come with a RADIO. My car came with seats, an engine, and wheels, and that's about it. No power anything. But I love my car, who's name is Spot, by the by.) Anyways, because the stereo was dying, the sound was really really quiet. It felt almost like the soundtrack of a movie.

Does that ever happen to anyone else?? When all of a sudden you could swear there are cameras on you because the situation your in is so movie-like? And then a song comes on, and it just fits so damn perfect, and it's like the whole thing is choreographed and planned?

Or am I just strange? Hang on. Don't answer that one.

You know, speaking of driving... Well, let's just put it this way: I can understand why 'Road Rage' thing is so prevalent in the US now. A week or so ago, I was driving myself and my daughter home from Children's hospital, where we had gone for a doctor appointment. There's a four-way stop at the exit of the Children's Hospital parking lot... so I waited my turn, and turned onto 92nd St. A guy pulled up behind me... totally crawling up my ass, and I'm doing a little over the speed limit even... plus the fact it's a 2-lane road... so there was no reason he had to stay behind me. There's only about 1/4 of a mile (actually less, now that I think about it)from the 4-way stop to the stop & go lights on Watertown Plank Rd. (Which goes to the freeway, which was where I was heading)

So anyways... there's this guy crawling up my ass. The stoplight ahead of me turns yellow, and there's no way in hell I'm going to make it before the light goes red. I mean, c'mon. I've got my daughter in the car, so I'm going to be careful, and not take any unnecessary risks. On top of that, I've got two oxygen tanks in the car, so I'm not going to take any risks, whatsoever!!!

So anyways, this weiner-head, this moron, this imbecile... as soon as my brake lights went on, he swerved into the right-hand lane (I was in the left-hand lane) and sped up. The light turned red, right as I reached it. The guy who had massively tail-gated me, reached the light after I did. He continued on through the red light, and did a left turn from the right in front of me, through the traffic that was going through their green light. And I'm just sitting there going... What a fucking idiot. As far as I'm concerned, he would've deserved getting hit.

And that's it for tonight, sweet folk..

While I'm not reminded of it when I drive by on my way to work (at 2:30 in the afternoon), every time I drive home I'm reminded of an amusing situation. Several of my friends and I were at Ted (the Bellhop)'s house one night. A few of us... Kelpie, The Fabulous Lady K, and Scottie (yes, yes, the biographies are coming soon... I promise!) and we decided to go for a walk. We walked down the street, turned up another, and found a little path going into a woods. (it is this path that I pass every day)

We walked into the woods (after Kelpie and Scottie went back to Ted's place for a flashlight.) It was a beautiful night... mid to late September, wonderfully warm, and just gorgeous. After a little while of walking, we came to a fork. I recalled that Ted had said that there was a path that came out behind his apartment building, and so I said that and added, "So let's go left, 'cos that's in the direction of his apartment." We all agree to this, and go right. Shortly we come to another... and pass another... and come to another.

And of course, we got lost. So, we decided to keep heading to the left. Soon it looked like there was an opening ahead of us. So, of course, we hurried toward it.

Then we see what appears to be a sign nailed to a tree. Scottie shines the flashlight on it, and we all read it: 'Beware of Dog".

But since we're all so hopelessly lost we go out. We see a house. We're happy... "Where there's a house, there must be a road!" We creep out into the shadows. "Where's the road?" Scottie asks. "Over there, I think," the Fab. Lady K replies. So we book for it, and stop in the shadows again. I see a large kennel. "D'ya think that's where the dog is?" I ask. "Oh, shit" the others reply in unison. We again book for the direction that we think the road is in. There's no road. We skid to a stop, and look about wildly. "No, there's the road!" someone says. We whip about, and head again for the road... this time reaching it, albeit a bit out of breath.

We then decided to walk up the road to the Pick 'n Save to get something to drink and we bumped into Jon (my daughter's father) and we got into a huge fight, so the fun part of the evening pretty much ended there. (Except for when I thought he had broken up with me, at which I was exhilarated, until I found out that he hadn't really meant it, whereby I was terribly depressed again.)