metanoia's Diaryland Diary

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Oh, I dunno

Writing about my brother's death made me feel better. Whenever I write about things that bother me, I feel better. It is just getting to the point where I want to actually sit down and write about them.

If I am not writing about things, it is easier to ignore them, go on about my stuff like all is normal and such. Finally sitting down and writing requires thought and delving into feelings that maybe I just do not want to feel again at the moment. This is my avoidance thing coming out and I am so very good at it I wish I could create a career out of it - a lucrative career out of avoiding things. I would be at the top of my field. But maybe I would avoid the avoidance, if it were something I had to do.... I'm not going to follow that train of thought because I can already see I would be hopelessly confused in a matter of seconds.

The city installed a camera at one of the shittiest, busiest intersections in town. This little town has only 3 or 4 ways to get across town because it is laced with rivers and building bridges costs the money. So, anyway, now at this intersection where the light is never long enough anyway, they have installed a camera to give tickets to people who run the red light after sitting through 9 green ones and finally getting fed up and just running the son of a bitch. So, yeah, the city will probably be making millions.

I was turning left at another interseciton where the cars kind of cut the corner when they are turning left. I hate to be the first one in the other left turn lane where they are turning in front of me. My mantra, "Don't cut it too close, make your turn. Don't cut it too close, make your turn..." seems to work. No one has clipped me yet, but still it is nerve racking to be sitting within about 2 or 3 feet of people careening around the corner...

K has to have knee surgery. I am so worried about it, now that we have spoken to doctor. Doctor says he will use cadaver material to repair K's knee. What kind of cadaver? Oh, some dead human guy, not a monkey or anything like that. Oh, yeah, and the chances for contracting HIV are 1 in 1.5 million; the chances for contracting hepatitis b or c is 1 in 45,000; the chances for contracting a staph infection is 1 in 450. So, that's nice. Gah!

The little fag who used to cut my hair was a dear friend as well. He died in July. But not from aids or anything. He died because he had a hip replacement and got a staph infection!! So when doctor said staph infection I just got all fucked up inside. My little fag haircutter (this name was a joke between us-yes, he was gay but this is a term of endearment.) was only 32 years old. He did a lot of drugs so his system was pretty messed up, but still.... I was so sad and now K might get one. I will have to read about it and get a little level of comfort about the whole thing.

So I bought some gifts from Amazon and got the super fucking saver shipping except when you get that they dont put it in a box and mail it until December 21 and you don't get it before Christmas. If you get regular shipping, they put it in a box on Dec 14. BASTARDS! super saver my ass.

I am starting to work out again. There is just no excuse anymore that sounds even remotely acceptable for not working out. I am getting fat and fatter and less and less flexible. It is time. Gah. and Gah.

Finished painting the house last weekend. My good lord. It took us a whole year to complete this process. Actual time prepping, probably 30 hours. Actual time painting with airless sprayer, about 4 hours. Time it took to talk about it unceasingly and incessantly, about 12 months. heh.

Now on to placing the concrete slab for our jacuzzi spa hot tub thing we bought on a whim about a month ago. It is sitting in the garage waiting for it's place. This Saturday is the day. We are just getting all sorts of things done, aren't we? Working like little beavers....

2:42 p.m. - 2004-12-08

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