I am watching the most beautiful morning ever through rain-splattered windows. But I need to clean my house. Giant is nearly home.

Excuse me, Ms. "Mae". Don't cop a 'tude with me. You're in customer service, and your job is to deal with my questions no matter how many times I rephrase them, and no matter how stupid you my think my question is. Further, if I repehrase my question, perhaps it's a sign I don't understand your answer. Therefore, do not simply repeat your answer in a different tone of voice. I bet you wouldn't talk to me like that in person because I might wrap my hands around your throat! Do you not realize I have a lot more school ahead of me? Do you realize how much it costs to borrow money from you? Do you want me to keep borrowing from you, or should I refinance with someone else? Chase, Aspire, et al will make an instant decision, and send me money within seven days. Tempting.

As I stated, I don't like the way this particular loan is being handled, I think the process is taking too long, I find it odd that my school certified the amount nearly two weeks ago and I haven't heard any news from your bank. When I finally call you, you tell me that the loan requires a corporate review and ask me to call back in 48 hours.I just want to know what I need to do in the future to keep things flowing. How can I apply in a way which will not require additional review? What is it about this particular loan which requires corporate review after both I and my co-signer have already been approved for this semester? This is additional funding, true, but it's still below your cap. And why is the review 48 hours? I need this money so I canstop working. Apparently, working 30 hours if you have 32 hours of school, and spend 15 hours a week commuting. Give my damn' disbursement so I can get some sleep, make love to my boyfriend, and go to the freaking gym. Damn'. But that's not even my biggest problem today.

Be nice to me. It's costing me nearly $30K to borrow money from you. You wouldn't want anything bad to happen to me before you get that money. Stop demeaning me. I'm too tired, and I have too much sleep-deprivation induced depression to deal with the asshats you've hired.

Please understand that when I called, I was hoping only to speak with your mother.  And though I was thinking the things I expressed to you, I assumed you'd be at the hospital, and never intended to say them out loud.  I'm glad I did, and I do hope my words were soothing and helpful.  I can see why and how you might have misunderstood my intentions.  While I am moving forward with my own life, and also am truly happy for the blessings in yours, I will never forgive you for your part in all that happened between us, and can only pray that I will eventually forgive myself for my own part.  I am momentarily satisfied to have accepted you for who you are, and myself for who I am. 

My ex-boyfriend is someone who never existed.  He is someone you wanted to be. I understand that now.   I pray you can be that man for your family because he was extraordinary.  For me, he died three years ago, Mr. Duplicity.  I have mourned him as if my very best friend in the world was murdered because that is how it feels.  I don't know you.  I wish you well, but do not care to pursue a friendship with you.  I don't know for sure who you are, but you are someone who injured me seemingly beyond full repair, and seemingly with no remorse or real concern for me.   You used me; it was both selfish and callous.

Please take comfort in the knowledge that I cherish my wonderful memories, and would not be the same person had I not had my nine year relationship with you.  I would not have the same goals, habits, or even interests.  I genuinely like myself most of the time, and you, however false, were a tremendous positive influence on me.  I will always be grateful to you for that.  At the same time, I will never, ever forgive you or forget the demise of our friendship. The things that transpired at the end changed me emotionally, spiritually, and physiologically.  Some of those changes are permanent, others I hope are not. I have spent this time re-building my self-esteem, confidence, optimism, and vulnerability.


It may be difficult to understand my mixed feelings.  Because they are so mixed, I'm sure my signals were as well. For that I apologize.  I imagined for years that your children would be our children.  Your son is beautiful, and I was happy to receive those first images of him.  However, to keep receiving this type of correspondence from you is painful beyond expression.  I'm sorry that I didn't make it clear that after the one email any further contact would be unwanted.  Please understand that now.  Please have a rich, blessed life.  Lastly, please teach your son to be honest with himself as well as with others.

~Jaywalking


He actually wrote me a personal letter about his feelings about fatherhood one morning during the third week of his son's life.  And he signed it (of all fucking things!) " Love you!"  As if he could or ever did.  This was a few days ago.  Today I finally processed it, and I have been crying for nearly three hours.  Man. I just miss his mother so much.  I have wanted to talk to her despite my decision that it is best to have no part of the entire clan.  But she told me (after my own mother died) that as long as she breathed I'd always have a mother.  I love her so much.  And sometimes, I just want my mommy.  I wish she had been home that morning.  Better yet, I wish I'd never called.


EDIT 11:28AM: Just found out the letter was not to me alone, which does makeme feel *a little* better about the "Love you!" at the end.  But not entirely.  Why would I of all people want to be added to a mailing list of his loved ones?  I looked over the list and recognized every name.  I wonder if any of those people saw the list, spotted my name on it, and wondered how it got there.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO EVERYONE'S FAVORITE PRINCESS!  THE PRINCESS DREA!

May your year be everything you want.  May you have more of this phenomenal and prolific growth I've been witnessing.  May your heart grow too, in order to hold all the love you give and receive, so none of it gets spilled.  And most important of all:  May yoube oh so very happy!

I love you.  Happy birthday, Girl.

Why is it that I am not considered?  My grandmother is in the habit of making appointments which affect me without considering me or my agenda at all.  As a person, I'm an afterthought.  As an individual I do not matter.  I count only as a convenience. 

For example:  When a workman needs to come and work in my bedroom (which happens to be in the basement) she might mention it to me after they call to say they're on their way.  This is despite the fact that workmen routinely steal from me if I'm not there to supervise, and despite the fact that my erratic work-schedule means I might have planned to sleep that morning.  If things are stolen then so be it.  if I have to rearrange my schedule to prevent theft, so be it.  If I have to make do without sleep, so be it. 

For example:  When a doctor makes her an appointment with a specialist and tells her she'll have to have someone bring her home she accepts whatever appointment offered without hesitation.  She has no other family but me.  We have friends who are willing to go to appointments with her, but she's not thinking of anyone but herself.  She doesn't say, "Let me consult this cell phone my granddaughter bought for me and see when she will be able to escort me."  She doesn't say, "Let me find out if my daughter's friend can escort me."  She simply accepts the appointment knowing I'll do whatever must be done to be there with her.  She knows that in the past I've made it work for her at tremendous inconvenience to myself and others, and she assumes I can just do it again. 

I am sick of this!  When do I get to count?  Last week she had a medical appointment I knew nothing about.  She was told she must have a biopsy on her breast.  This is really bad news.  That kind of necessity is always unsettling.  She didn't ask if she needs to have an escort.  she simply accepted the appointment numbly.  When she came home, she did not mention having seen a physician.  She did not mention that they were concerned and had ordered a biopsy.  She didn't say a word until we were chatting today.  She said she was having a biopsy on September the 11th.  First I was stunned that she needed a biopsy, but then I remembered that roughly a year ago, they said the same thing and it turned out fine.  Then I asked her if they said she needed an escort.  She said she didn't know.   Yet she's known for a week that she was to have a frightening procedure and said nothing.

 I told her September 12 was Giant's birthday, and that I wasn't sure how I could get back down here in time, and still be up there for his birthday.  She grumbled something sarcastic about how he's never had a birthday before.  Actually, that's close to the truth.  Not since elementary school age has he had a birthday to which he looked forward.  This was the first since then.  Also, for the next 18-23 years we have no promise that he'll ever be home on his birthday again.  In fact, he's not going to be here for this birthday.  He ships out on the 12, and I made reservations for the 11th at 5PM.  I had fantasies of sneaking out undetected to present him with breakfast in bed. 

My plans also included an extended stay beyond Giant's departure.  I'm trying to make friends in the area, and I have some get-togethers scheduled.  Now they'll all have to wait.  I don't really mind putting them off, I guess.  I just mind the way it came about.  I'm angry that my agenda is never, ever considered.  I'm lucky to have found out so early, actually.  She frequently tells me a day or two in advance, and then says mean things to me when I tell her what I'm supposed to be doing when she needs me.  She's selfish.  My aunt used to complain of the same thing.  She also gets angry if after she's made whatever nasty remark she has you express anger through yelling or snide comments of your own. 

So her feelings are hurt right now.  She thinks I'm not coming to her biopsy.  She thinks I'm willing to drop everything to go see Giant and take care of him when he's sick, but not willing to skip his birthday to go with her to her biopsy.  Good.  She can live with that pain tonight.  She's earned it. 

okay, New Yorkers.  What is your vet's name, and number?  And can I get there by cab?

My cat just had a terrifying seizure.  We're both really scared (Medley and I) and I want the vet.  Our vet isn't open on Wednesdays.  I read online that I don't need to go to the emergency room, but that she needs to see the vet as soon as possible.  My vet can usually see her within a week when I call for appointments.  Is that soon enough, or do I need to see someone today?  She's had just one seizure.  I am aware that if she has another within 24 hours that it becomes an emergency.  Any advice and referrals are greatly appreciated.  If you want to call me please do.  Anytime, day or night. 

I think I'm going to go vomit butterflies now.

My Gentle Giant has 24 hours of duty today.  Supposedly it's just me and the cat in the apartment.  Not so.  The bedroom is haunted.  The entity haunts the foot of the bed on Giant's side.  It smokes heavily.  Very heavily.  I always thought the smoke was coming from a neighbor's apartment.  But I closed the windows last night because Giant had a fever and was cold.  So where's the smoke coming from?  The apartments do not vent into each other in order to reduce noise.  The linen is clean and should not smell of cigars and cigarettes.  The apartment is clean, and no one smokes here.  It should not smell of cigars or cigarettes.  The cat has known about the entity for months.  She likes it.  I do not.  I would like it better in the living room or kitchen.  I would never willingly share my bed with a chain smoker.  This is disgusting.  Plus I'm creeped out.  There is a stranger on my bed.  Yikes!

I feel very house-wifeish. 

We overslept and had only 10 minutes to get him out of the house on time. 

Did I get him caffeinated and fed on time?  Yes.

Did I make him lunch?  Yes.

Is the house immaculate?  Actually, it is!

Do I look like a million bucks?  You know this, Man!

We're having people over for supper.  Supper is ready to go into the oven, dessert is ready to go into the oven, the cat is well-groomed, the apartment is baby-proof (kinda), and the place is sweet-smelling, comfortable, and music is playing. 

All my clients were happy today. 

I'm good at this.

I'm going to buy a puppy.  I know, I know.  Shut up.

Now I know why I am awake.  I was meant to be awake to be a comfort to my kitty Medley.  She is puking her little guts out, and has been on and off all day.  I think she may be tired of traveling back and forth every other month.  She needs a more stable routine.  I'll have to figure this out later.  Right now, I have a house full of puke to clean up (she just ran around like a banshee retching and regurgitating all over the place) and a fluffy friend to console.  I put her in the bathroom to keep her away from carpet, and she's depressed and bored in there. 

I don't totally suck at it.  Did you know that?

My face looks different.  Pockets of fat from my cheeks that were still there when I weighed significantly less than I do now have disappeared.  As usual, my butt is shrinking exponentially, and my tummy will be the last thing to go.  Damn' tummy.  I was prompted to take a hip measurement when sitting in a familiar chair, my butt felt bonier than usual.  It was three inches smaller.  My waist is two inches smaller.  Grrr.  I have been pooing my little heart out one would expect that my tummy would have shrunk by more than that.  Still, two inches is a wonderful side effect of Spring cleaning as are the three inches from my hips.  I shall not look a gift horse in the mouth.    My skin is not clear, but it is significantly clearer than when I started. 

Grandma saved me half of a sleve of girl scout cookies.  They aren't vegan, but I haven eaten in over a week and I want them.  Friday afternoon, after my chores are done and the housekeeper leaves, I'm going to spend half an hour eating them. 

BUT:  From everything I've read the most effective fasts last 10 days or more.  I've already gone twice as long as I have have without solid food and I'm seriously ready to eat.  Everyone who's written a journal while doing the same fast I'm doing said that by the time they were as far in as I am, they were almost not looking forward to returning to solid food.  Well fuck that.  I want solids, and I want them now!  I want a piece of the poundcake I made my grandmother for Mother's Day, AND the toping which is made from kiwi, strawberry and heavy cream.  I want oatmeal the way D's father makes it (soupy, with onion, garlic, crushed red pepper, olive oil, and tofu- and I usually add mushrooms for texture) I want a salad of baby greens with mandarin oranges and my homemade raspberry tangerine dressing.  Or I want to order from the Chinese place or the pizza shop.  And I still want that  FREAKIN' TURKEY SANDWICH!!!!!   (The exclamation points make it true.)

But.  I made it this far, and I can make it to Friday morning.  I will not break the fast slowly as is reccomended eating raw foods for a few days, and then making a vegetable soup.  I will have the oatmeal, and if my tummy hates it, I'll have a litle more until it learns to like it. 

I am not yet at a place where I have the will to fast for 30 days.  I'm just not.  Friday morning, if I can will myself to make the concoction, so be it.  If I cannot, I will still have succeeded in completing the fast.  I'll try again next year. 

It's day seven.

I did not want the tea when I woke up.  I was hungry, sure, but I did not want the tea.  If I had gone upstairs, I would have eaten.  Yesterday, My grandmother had a slice of whole wheat bread with cream cheese and jelly folded in half.  I watched her eat it enviously.  I don't even eat cream cheese.  The fast has improved my sense of smell.  I could smell the bread, the cream cheese, and the grape jelly from five feet away.  Behind her and out of sight I could smell the flowers on the table another five feet away, but not the chocolates in their wrappers next to the flowers.  But I separated out the flowers, and focussed on the scent of her sandwich.  I wanted the taste the cream cheese.   The container said it was fat free, but that's not how it smelled.  If I had gone upstairs this morning, I would have had the last tablespoon of cream cheese on a piece of the whole wheat bread, with the strawberry preserves Gentle Giant left here.  And a bite of the cake.  I desperately wanted to chew something soft and sweet, and dense. 

I waited until late afternoon to consume anything.  My will was tested.  My grandmother was snacking on her cake, it was siting in the kitchen uncovered.  I could smell it as soon as I openened the door.  I entered the kitchen and saw it just siting there mocking me.  I went over to it, and broke a small piece off with my fingers.  I put my fingers in my mouth.  But I didn't put any cake on my tongue.  I boiled some water, put a teabag in it, and left the kitchen until the cake was removed. 

Around 7PM I drank tea and three glasses of the concoction.  I was in a right fould mood by then because hypoglycemia had set in.  I squweezed the lemons, and ate what was left of them.  I needed to chew.  The lemon pulp is permitted.  Kinda.  It's supposed to be in the concoction.  But I needed to chew, so I had some of the pith as well. 

Wake me when it's Friday.

I played some poker online and made 5,000 chips.  To bad it wasn't cash!

The fast is going well. 


I drew a picture today.  I'll color it in tomorrow.  I'm surprised at my improvement.  I had a reference picture, but no step by step instructions this time.  ANd, I made deliberate changes from the reference.  Yay!  I don't actually have a drawing pencil here, or a pen for inking.  I shall purchase soon!

Gentle Giant is Back in Boston.  I can't wait to see him.  I'll be gone from May 20, through June 17.  He leaves June 17, and doesn't come back until mid-August.  He leaves in early-September and I won't see him after that until Christmas.

I think I'm going to spend the rest of the evening drawing a picture of a naked nekko, and talking to him on the phone. 

Spring Cleaning is in full effect.  If I am holding something for you, like a bike, or a piece of furniture, please come get it.  If it's here at the end of June, I'll sell it.  This doesn't apply to your bike, namfle , don't worry. 


I'm supposed to take several showers a day.  I think my skin will tolerate two.  I'm told I might get a little funky while fasting, and I've switched to a natural deodorant with no antiperspirant in it.  I apologize in advance if I am a little smelly over the next several weeks.

Journal-only friends wouldn't know, but The Gentle Giant and I became a couple.  It's been a good thing for both of us.  For me, it's been nice to be able to trust someone enough to be able to accept any promises he cared to make, and to want to make promises of my own.  He feels similarly.  Is it compatibility, or co-dependence?  Only time can tell.  LOL

Things are going well with Giant despite the distance.  In fact, it has gotten so that his apartment feels more like home than my home of 27 years does.  He refers to it as my home too, in the hopes that I'll stop going back to my house.  He no longer says, "When are you coming to see me?"  He says, "How long are you visiting Grandma?  When are you coming home?" 

The commute back and forth between my homes is rough.  It's a six-hour trip door to door, and I head up there between two and three times a month.  It would be faster to take my car, but way more expensive, too.  (Three hours by car, but we could only afford that once a month.)  The commute is also very disrruptive to my work/sleep schedules.   I can bring my job with me though, and he cannot.  That is why I am the one who travels. 

The last two times I went were to celebrate Valentine's Day, and my birthday.  I spent my actual birthday at home, and told my grandmother I would be home for it.  When I told her about planning to make both that trip, and the Valentine's Day trip, she made a big deal, and laid on the guilt.  That's not very nice, but she's not a nice person, so that's okay.    It's still a very difficult thing to endure, as if my blossoming relationship is a mean thing I'm doing to her.  So, I sat down with her and told her I wasn't abandoning her, just not ignoring my boyfriend.  This seemed to have no effect.  So, I went a step further. 

"You are the last member of my immediate family.  And you won't be here forever.  I'd like to have another immediate family some day.  That's the natural order of things.  Here I've got someone who is wonderful and like-minded.  I need to be free to explore my relationship with him so we can find out if we want to be a family.  Please stop discouraging me.  That may not be your intent, but yI definitely feel uncomfortable.  Every time I go, I'm tempted to just go without saying anything." 

She seemed to get it.  We'll see what she says in two weeks.  The only reason I even come back is she's so old. 

Meanwhile, a new character in the story of my life: Madre de Dios.   This is Giant's mother.  She doesn't know me yet.  We haven't spoken.  She knows the following:

I am not Puerto Rican.
I am not a Methodist.
I am a practicing Christian.  (This is negated by not being a Methodist, the only real Christians.)
I am 27 years of age.  (Five years Giant's senior.)
Giant has no photos of me to show her.  (I'm goofing off in all of the one's he's got.  Not a first impression sort of thing.)
Giant and I met on the internet in 2005.  I'm one of those "Internet People".  Despite her son having found me here, he's not one of those.


She is constantly attempting to undermine our bond.  It doesn't work, but the attacks frustrate me.   They hurt my feelings.  They make me angry too.  Some of the more horrible things she said are,

"You have to be careful of a woman as old as she is.  Some women just want to find a young, successful man like you and trap him with a child.  Then she gets everything she wants.  She gets you forever, and she gets the child her biological clock demands."

This upsets me first because I don't like what she is saying about me.  I am not eager to have a child soon.  Eventually, but not soon.  I do not now, and never have desired nor required a man to take care of me.  So that hurts my feelings.  And I am frustrated because she is making this assessment without so much as a phone call to get to know each other.  But I'm angry because Giant is her son.  And statements like that make it sound like she doesn't think he can attract a quality woman who just wants him because he's fabulous.  Now I see why he didn't think he could at one point either.  It must be hard when these are teh messages from home. 

I try to put myself in Madre de Dios' shoes.  She has a son and a daughter.  Both of them just moved out of the house; one for school, and one for his career.  It's just she and her husband for the first time in 18 years.  That must be kind of nerve-wracking for her.  Both of her children moved so far away from Puerto Rico, too.  Her son is emotionally close enough to call and joke around with her up to four times a week.  If they are that close, the distance must be very hard, just like the distance is hard for me.  Maybe letting go is hard.  I don't know.  But I know I've dated lots of guys, and this is the first one whose mother had problems with me.  ESPECIALLY before she gets to meet me.  She even has a problem with my cat.! LOL 

I'm not sure how to approach her, or how to begin my relationship with her.  Frankly, she gives me the screaming creeps.  I'm worried about the strain on Giant if his two favorite girls can't get along too.  I would really like to be friends with his mother; my mother is dead.  Plus, his mother has been married for about 20 years.  I'm sure she could be an excellent source of information on honoring commitment when commitment is no longer fun or convenient.  I would value her input if Giant and I decide to merge our lives.  I don't want to be tense or already harboring ill feelings when I finally meet her.  But it seems like all she ever does is deliberately try to drive wedges into my relationship, and I find this whole thing very hurtful, and increasingly difficult to ignore. 

Giant grinds his teeth at night, but only if he's spoken to his mother earlier that day. 

I'm not sure how to proceed.  It's not too late for me to change my mind about meeting his parents (if he even wants me to) before they go back to Puerto Rico.  We have been friends for a while, but we've only been a couple for four months.  Ordinarily,  I wouldn't even care about meeting his parents yet.  Either I'd meet them because it was convenient, or I wouldn't.  I don't really care what his parents' opinions of me are, so long as they are based in reality.  I don't even know why I care about Madre de Dios' ignorance-based opinions.  I only know that I do, and that this is an unusual set of feelings for me. 

C'mon now, Goldilocks.  You are old enough to know that real intimacy is not dependent upon geography.  What you're stuck on is chemistry.  Sexual compatibility.  I was yours.  You had me.  I was very, very curious.  I would have been very good to you, if you'd have let me.  But you panicked, split, and my Gentle Giant moved in.  You lose.  It's too late to come back now, especially since you're still scared.  You'll never even hear this explanation.  Well, if you press me I'll tell you what happened.  However, we both know only a man would press me, and that does not describe you.  If it did, you would face your fears, as my Giant is.  He has far more to fear from his love than you do.  Yet you are the one who chooses to hide behind lust.  I will never give you my body.  Ever.  Forget that shit right now.  I gave you something more dear to me, something you should have prized.  I don't know why it was ever on the table.  The speed surprised me.  I ran toward fear, you ran from it.  That is not my fault.  I did not teach you that response.  Please don't call.  I no longer have platonic interest in you, and sex would betray myself, and the man I love.  You haven't called, and I suspect you won't.  That's why I'm making this entry.  Sometimes, I can't move on until I have spoken my piece.  I can't make you listen, and you don't want to.  At least I can get this off of my chest, once and for all. 

I had hoped to be a football expert by now.