I was going to write something tonight, but the damn Adobe Flash Player was being a bitch and now it's time to pick up HAM from work. I am in my memoir writing class now. Also, applying for full time jobs and going on interviews, secretly hoping I don't get hired so I can go to grad school and eventually become a professor of Creative Writing after I become a successful author. I am also making this AMAZING vegan minestrone soup regularly, which is not only saving me money, but delicious and healthy too. I am loving the whole cooking thing lately. I'm good at it and I am slowly converting HAM to veganism through example (never through pressure because that is guaranteed to backfire). HAM is getting worse and worse at saying "I love you" lately. It's so hard for him, even though it's easy for him to show me he loves me in every other way. Why are those words so hard for him to say? I am wearing my hair in pigtails for him RIGHT NOW. I made him soup. I am picking him up from work so he doesn't have to spend money on a cab. I told him today, just like Bryan Adams said, "Everything I do, I do it for you." And it's true - I always want to make him happy and keep him loving me. But he's so weird about just saying those three fucking words, even when he knows how happy it makes me. I mean, I know what makes him happy - pigtails, homemade food, deep-throating, and back massages. I do all of that for him. Why can't he just say "I love you" a few times a day? Why is that such a problem? But whatever, that's besides the point. The real point is I want to go to grad school, I want to be a professor. Becoming a "professional" will only deter me from that path and that sucks hairy balls. So anyway, thanks, Adobe, for making this post so short and wishy-washy. What I really wanted to say was something eloquent and poetic, with deep social underpinnings. But instead, this is it. Damn you, Adobe!

I was going to write about having kids and how I always joke that if I were to have two children, I already have their nams picked out: Resentment and Dream Killer. I was talking with HAM the other day about how I just can't imagine that there would ever be a good time in our lives for children, and that I really love dogs, but have never really loved humans. Especially whiny, selfish ones who I could easily beat up. I was never really one of those types of girls who fantasized about her wedding day and subsequent children. Not to say I've always been against the idea. I wanted to have a baby once. I did a lot of research on it. I was going to be one of those controversial parents who let their baby sleep in bed with them, despite warning that you could roll over and suffocate your baby in the night. The facts are that this doesn't happen. If you have the right kind of pillow to keep the baby from falling off the bed (which is much more likely) then you're golden. And that whole thing about leaving the baby crying in another room so they can learn to self-soothe - I think that's bullshit. My parents did that with me and how did I learn to self-soothe? Cake. I'd rather be overly dependent on my mom than overly dependent on cake. And I was going to have a waterbirth, free of epidurals, doctors, and hospitals. I was either going to go to a birthing center, or rent a tub and have my baby at home, in a birthing tub filled with warm water. I was going to hire a midwife and only use doctors and ex-rays when absolutely necessary, but I wasn't going to do what so many women are doing these days: scheduling their due date. It's so freaky! As if the sterile hospital setting with the poor mother-to-be spread-eagle on a hospital bed, strung out on opiates and being told to "push" wasn't disturbing enough, now women can choose to just "go under", get cut open, and wake up with a baby. That is just so wrong I can't even express my disgust for it. Doesn't anyone do anything naturally anymore? I mean, I'm all for a good boob-job (saving up for mine) but seriously - shouldn't birth be sacred? Isn't it an experience that will forever bond mother and baby? Why would a woman choose to be completely checked out of that experience. Your baby is entering the world and her very first experience is that her mother is not present, not there for her. She is zonked out under anesthesia and the baby is ripped from her stomach and taken away to be cleaned and snipped and who knows what else, and then mom comes to later to a nice, cleaned up, trimmed up baby. Fuck that. Anyway, my point is, I did quite a bit of research. I was going to teach my baby sign language so it would be able to communicate with me before it learned it form words, therefore lessening certain instances of colic. I was going to play soothing music against my growing belly for the baby to listen to in utero. I was going to feed my baby a vegan, organic diet so it wouldn't be subjected to the hormones in dairy and chemicals in conventional foods. I started taking prenatal vitamins, had my IUD taken out, and got off anti-depressants while my fiance was still in jail just to prepare for his release. And the they he got out we started trying to get pregnant. It took about eight months and I finally had a positive test. It hadn't been more than a few weeks since we learned of my pregnancy that we were going to visit his grandpa in Mendocino County, about a two hour drive from where we were living in San Rafael. He still wasn't officially living with me - he was living at the SLE down the street, Marin Services for Men. He went back to his place to get ready and I stayed at my place to get ready. Since it was August and we were going to Willits, which was guaranteed to be hot as hell, I wanted to shave my legs so I could wear a little skirt. I did my normal shower routine plus shaving and then got out and started drying my hair. ALL came back over and was ready to go. When he saw that I wasn't ready, he started fuming, asking why I was wasn't ready and yelling about how he didn't have much time. I told him that I shaved my legs so it was taking me a little longer than usual to get ready and that enraged him. Before I knew it, he had pulled me out of the bathroom and was yelling in my face. He grabbed me by the throat and threatened to choke me to death. We were now in the hallway of my apartment, his hands around my neck, his wide mouth open showing his missing bottom tooth, his forehead creased, his eyes filled with hatred. He squeezed tighter around my neck and I was pissed. I reached up and squeezed my hand around his neck. I figured, even though I couldn't hurt a 220-pound ex-con with a woman-beating problem, I at least wasn't going to bitch out. I was mad, too. All I did was shave my fucking legs! Of course, when I squeezed his neck, that made him go from enraged to blackout insane. He squeezed my neck so hard that I felt myself fading fast. I couldn't breathe and I went limp. After that I'm not sure exactly what happened, but I woke up on the floor, against the wall, in another room. Immediately, I started shouting, "You choked me until I passed out! You could've killed me! I'm pregnant!" He said, "I didn't do shit to you, get up." I wouldn't let it go. I was horrified by this. All the violence that had happened before was bad, but it all of it happened to me and me alone. This time, he wasn't just hurting me - he was hurting my baby. This was unacceptable. So I played along with him, let him try to make it up to me by taking me on a trip to the coast, cooking me breakfast, blah, blah, blah, all that bullshit abusers like to do to suck you back into their insanity so they can abuse you again. But secretly, I didn't pay rent that month. I stuck the money ($1000) inside a sock in my sock drawer and waited. He wouldn't let me out of his sight for days because he knew I might try to escape, but he finally felt secure enough that I wouldn't leave him, and he had to go back to the SLE or he would get kicked out, which would fuck up his probation, so he went back. That night, I called my mom and told her what was going on and she convinced me to leave. So I packed up my $1000, a picture of my dead dog, a framed serenity prayer painting, and a laundry basket full of clothes, and took off in the middle of the night. There's a lot more to this story, I ended up staying with ALL for another year in a long-distance relationship, and eventually moved back to San Rafael to be with him again (it only lasted two weeks after I arrived - then I had to escape from the bastard again) but for now, I'll just talk about the baby situation. I came home to Bellevue, to my Dad's house. He thought my best option would be to abort the baby. I went along with it, even though I wanted the baby and had planned for the baby, researched the birth, my diet, the sleeping arrangements, etc. I had the abortion, and I suppose it was for the best, but ever since then I've felt pretty anti-baby again. That was my one decent into baby-craziness and it ended pretty fucked up. So, now I'm older, I've got a great guy who I love, who loves me, who would NEVER hurt me. He's brilliant, stunningly beautiful, responsible, sweet, just a damn good guy, and I think - why would I want to screw this up with kids? That's what kids do. They make happy couples want to murder eachother. They turn hot chicks into short-haired soccer moms. They are the wedge between the man and the woman and they cause divorce more often than not. I like being thin and beautiful, I like having sex every day, sometimes twice a day. I like being able to get my hair done when I want, go to the gym when I want, not having to orchestrate my job and my appointments around a child. Besides, the world is overpopulated. That's not just something people say to justify not having children, either. That shit is real. There are too many of us here all breathing the same polluted air and driving on the same congested roads, eating the same contaminated food, and attending the same broken public schools. (This is the one area of my life where I become a Republican - if I ever did have children, you can bet your ass they'd be in private school.) Maybe adopting dogs would keep my relationship intact (and my thighs), save the planet of one more parasite sucking off of it, and it would allow me to pick names other than Resentment and Dream Killer. I've already named my new computer David Lee Roth and my external hard drive Eddie Van Halen, so this could take some time. Maybe Jerry and Pig Pen. But thinking about having children is definitely good for counting my current blessings. When I think about how awful life could be if it revolved around someone other than me, my current situation seems pretty damn sweet. No resentments, dreams in reach, and  stretch mark free.

I just watched this doc about weed growers in Nor-Cal. I don't know why I torture myself by watching something that just reminds me of my dream. My whole life I've been trying to get to California, and every damn time I get there, something fucked up happens that sends me back to Bellevue. There is no place on earth as beautiful as the Northern California mountains. Those sun-dried rolling hills, the twisting, dense forest. I've never slept better in my life than I did when I lived in a tent off Bell Springs. It was so dark and peaceful, zillions of stars in the sky, only the sounds of the mountains themselves. I miss it so much. I pray for the day when I can buy my Nor-Cal land. Acres of property in the mountains, my yurt, my wind turbine, an organic garden, a well. My dogs and chickens, all that privacy! I realize I have a bit of a social phobia. I always think I want to hang out with people, and get really excited when someone asks me to do something, but the closer to the time when we're supposed to hang out gets, the more I start to think I really don't want to do it after all. What I want more than lots of friends or being invited out to do things I don't want to do, is just to have my acreage, my dream home, my dogs, and HAM. I don't need many people, or things. I would need a car with four-wheel drive to get to and from my home, and I'd love to have a gym. But that's the one major luxury item that I desire. I don't need a home theater or an olympic size pool, I don't need leather furniture (in fact I would NEVER own leather furniture) or whatever kinds of things rich people require. I don't need a huge TV or a tennis court, or even a hot tub (although I would like a hot tub). What I really want is to be peaceful and happy in the mountains with my little family, possibly growing weed, writing, sewing, growing my own food and raising chickens for eggs (not meat). The simple life. And a home gym. And not a lame "all-in-one" machine, but an actual gym, with mirrors, cardio machines, benches, free weights, a big mat, and various other workout apparati. Maybe a sound system and a TV mounted on the wall. That's my one luxury desire - not that big of a deal. But if I couldn't have that, I'd at least like to live close enough to a gym that it isn't an hour drive to get there. It took an hour to ge anywhere from Bell Springs. But it was way out in Laytonville, and Laytonville is already such a small town that even when you finally get to town, gas is about 500 thousand dollars a gallon and everything in the grocery store is inflated by 50%. There's one restaurant/ bar, a deli, a post office, a couple motels, a grocery store, a gas station, and a coffee shop with (surprisingly) wireless internet access. I'd rather live in the Ukiah mountains because Ukiah has more going on than Laytonville and Willits is so hick it might as well be Texas. But since my ex-fiance, ALL, is from there, it's really not a safe place to live. That's so unfortunate because I truly fell in love with Mendocino County and never wanted to leave. It's so beautiful there, and there's no traffic. I never had to wait in line at the post office and I never got stuck in rush hour. Granted, it takes about an hour to get anywhere in Mendo (if you're not just going to the grocery store down the street), but it's so majestic and filled with nature that I don't care how long it takes to get somewhere - the drive is like meditation. Not like rush hour, where sitting in my car makes me want to murder the person in front of me. Taking a long time to get somewhere due to distance is fine, it's taking a long time to get somewhere because of congestion that gets my skin boiling. But the fact is, that won't be a reality for several years. It's my dream, and I can't let it die. I will get there someday. Until then I have to learn to grow food and raise chickens, sew my own clothes, ferment my own Kombucha, use public utilities to run my appliances, and keep the hippie dream alive.

I have this problem with coffee. When I drink it, I start drinking more of it than of any other substance. I drink it the same way I used to drink alcohol. First thing in the morning, all day, every day, and when I'm not drinking it, I'm thinking about drinking it. So, once again, I have to stop. I stopped before and it was terrible at first, but eventually I got used to it. Then I started drinking it again. I swear I need a 12-step program for coffee. And it's not even the caffiene so much as it is the coffee itself. I love the way it smells, the way it tastes, the way it feels going down my throat and into my stomach, all warm and milky. There is nothing better than a delicious cup of hot coffee. It soothes my soul on a cellular level. I think I was born with the coffee-loving gene. It runs in my family. My mom used to live off the shit when I was growing up. She constantly spilled coffee on the floor of the car, so the car always had this french vanilla/ coffee smell. She seriously brewed multiple pots a day and had a thermos full of it morning noon and night. My dad's a little better, but pretty much can't live without several cups every morning. When he went to China this time, he shipped several bags of it to Meiying's condo so he would have coffee for the two months that he's there. But I feel like it's more than just a pick-me-up. Actually, it does little as far as it's stimulant properties are concerned. It really has no affect on me in terms of energy or focus. I just like how it tastes. I love how it tastes. It's truly an addiction that gets out of hand every time I indulge. I'll be okay for a little while, but before I know it, it's totally taken over my life and I am dehyrdrated and overeating because my brain is sending a signal to my body that my body interprets as hunger when in reality I just need water. I drink coffee, eat, drink coffee, eat, and eat and eat...and then feel an overwhelming sense of guilt and remorse ans shame and I hate myself. I sit there pinching my belly fat, telliing myself what I fat failure I am. And all of this could be avoided if I could just quit coffee. I wish it wasn't so insanely delicious! But I'm stopping again tomorrow. I got some thermogenics that you're not allowed to have caffeine with because they have 100 mg of caffeine already. That's fine, at least this way I won't have withdrawal symptoms. No horrible headaches or insomnia. Another good thing about the thermogenics is that they require women to drink at LEAST 91 oz of water a day. I have been trying to drink 64 oz, and doing okay, but 91 oz will be a challenge. I think I can do it, though. As long as I add lemon to the water, I can drink it without much coercion. I start tomorrow with one pill in the morning a half hour before breakfast. Then I go to grandma's to play scrabble, the post office to ship the books I sold on Amazon, and then the gym. It's supposed to help with energy during workouts, too, but without the jitters of shit with ephedrine. It has over 8000 positive reviews on bodybuilding.com. So I'm looking forward to trying it. And since the antidepressant I take is not an SSRI, I shouldn't get Serotonin Syndrome fromt taking it. But if for some reason I do start to develop symptoms of SS, I can just stop taking it and the symptoms will subside and I can get a full refund from Super Supplements. But what I'm really upset about is that my dad is starting to have second thoughts about moving to China, even though that has been his plan for several years now, and he married a women who lives there, who could barely get a visa just to visit the U.S. for a few weeks. I don't know how the hell they expect to get her a greencard, but apparently that's the new plan. But the original plan was that he would sell the house and we would go fifty fifty on a house where I would live and he would use as his U.S. address, something he has to have in order to live in China as an ex-pat. And I could handle it if he and DL (Dragon Lady) came here to visit occasionally and stayed with me, but what happens if they end up living in the U.S? Then what? Because if I have to live with my dad for another year of my life, I will commit suicide. Please, don't take this seriously, it's just a figure of speech for dramatic effect. But what I AM serious about is needing NOT to live with my freaking dad anymore. I'm 31 years old. Enough is enough. I've spent way too many years of my life living with that man and I just can't imagine one more year, let alone several. I don't know what I would do if he and DL moved here and I ended up without my own house. I've been waiting for the day I can purchase this house for so long and I dream about it, fantasize about it, search for real estate online almost daily...I can't have one more dream taken away from me. Especially this one. I've already conceded my California dream home in order for HAM to go to business school at UW. That means I have to stay in this dark, dreary, rainy, miserable, superficial soul-sucking void of a city for who knows how many more years. Fine, I've suffered through most of my life in this place and I'm familiar with the suffering so I can deal with it. But suffering in this pit of plastic hell with my dad and his wife? I just can't bare the thought of it. I mean, I love DL. If it were just DL, I'd probably be okay with it. She's sweet and quiet most of the time, and we have A SHIT TON in common, so that would be fine. But the two of them together? Fuck no. Besides, in my opinion, my dad drinks too much and he takes all those pain pills and drinks with the pain pills, and he eats chocolate and ice cream and sausage and pizza and whatever the fuck he feels like, plus coffee every morning, which will torture me since I'm trying to live coffee free. He's always nodding out in front of the TV or in front of the computer, or getting shit-faced so I have to drive him to his car the next day out in Seattle. I don't wanna do it. Maybe it's selfish of me because he put up with so much of my shit for so long, but seriously, I can't imagine he's want to live with me and HAM anyway. Whatever happens, it needs to be separate from my life. And I need to come out of this with a house.