I was just re-reading some of my entries (randomly picked) from 2002. I feel like my writing was so much more creative when I still lived in Seattle. Maybe I am wrong. I just can't seem to write funny, descriptive entries anymore. What happened? I feel like somebody else has taken over my life and my mind and they are a pretty dull person. I don't think I am even making any sense right now. I'll just write about random things. Missy is crawling on the back of my chair. She is purring like, well, damn it, like a cat does. She is a princess and she knows it. My face is now covered in soft, creamy/white fur since she just shoved her face into my own and now she is licking my fingers.

As I was walking home from the bus stop yesterday (or was it the day before?) I noticed a dirty flip flop by the side of the road. A poem about domestic violence (told from the perspective of the abused woman) came into my head. I need to work on it some more and then maybe I will post it.

Larry and Ryan and some nameless guy that came to the door are installing an electrical outlet and a light out on our back deck.

Last night we went to the Downtown Lounge and saw some music. An old friend that I hadn't seen in 10 years (I knew him in Seattle as he was a friend of my first husband) was playing bass in a band. It was fun seeing him again. I REALLY liked the first band, The Mello Outs. They're from Portland and remind me of the love child of the Pixies and Man or Astroman.

My mind is blank. What can I tell you about? The polka dot shirt I'm wearing? The weird throbbing sensation that is on the left side of my neck. It feels like a vascular thing. Can I tell you about the dream I had about mom early this morning? I don't remember much about it except that she was still alive and that we were riding in a car together. She was driving and her hair seemed more orange or something. She was talking about "just wanting to die" and I was getting upset listening to her talk that way. I woke up straight out of that dream at 6:30 am this morning and felt the urge to cry but was too tired and hung over and so I fell back asleep. On September 19th it will be the one year anniversary of her death. When will I REALLY believe she is gone? Never. I guess it slowly sinks in, though. Same with Sarah. I don't talk about those tragedies as much as I used to. I don't feel the need to. Does that mean that I am healed? Just kidding. I'll never recover but the scab over my grief scar is getting more and more thick and less likely to be ripped apart by just any random memory. I've been watching "Rock of Love" and I'm not embarrassed to admit it. The ladies are catty and I find it hilarious. I wish Larry appreciated stupid pop culture the way I do, but in a way I am glad he doesn't. I am starving. Nowadays I often ignore my hunger because I am too lazy to do anything about it. I did buy some strawberries, raspberries and blueberries, though, and I will make a fruit salad in the next few days.
I washed all of our dish towels for the kitchen. I enjoyed folding them and putting them away in their proper drawers. Something about organization makes me purr sometimes. I am a VIRGO, after all. It amazes me that I have been writing in this thing for over five years. I'm much less into it than I used to be. I like documenting my life like this, though. I still write in a paper diary sometimes but since discovering Diaryland in May of 2002 I find it easier to type everything into this neat and convenient little box. It also doesn't make my hands cramp up like writing can do.

Today/tonight there is a block party in the Whittaker neighborhood. Part of me wants to go and part of me wants to lie on the couch and watch movies. When I get sad all I have to do is look through the pictures of Larry and I traveling around Ireland and I feel good again.

Time to fill my belly.

do the jerk * do the frug