I had a busy day yesterday. I went over to Rob's for a bit, then I had to go all the way over to St.Laurent to see a friend. It takes an hour to get to Rob's, it takes an hour to get to St. Laurent and it takes an hour to get home.
The update is that I'm taking a break from dating. I wasn't happy in the relationship. He wasn't either. It wasn't just me who was unhappy so I can't feel bad about not wanting to be in a relationship. I think he's in denial because he still wants to kiss me and he still tells me he loves me. It wasn't the right time for me. There might never be a 'right time' or a 'right guy'. Part of me feels sad about that, but the other part feels something else. Haven't figured out what that feeling is, yet.
It was kind of funny this morning. I woke up and my computer was still playing episodes of "Fantasy Island". I have only watched the first episode, then I dozed off. I forgot to turn my computer off.
Tonight I'll have to do some baking or something. I finished my peanut butter cookie thing I made. I made peanut butter cookie dough, then put chocolate icing on top, then I baked it. It tastes like Reece's pieces. Not quite, but a close home-made version.
I've been gaining a lot of weight this year. My scale doesn't work right now, needs a new battery, at least I hope it does.... When I was trying to lose weight the last time, it took two years to lose 80 pounds. It was hard. Sometimes I feel like I went backwards in time, like losing all that weight just to gain it back is b*llsh*t!
What have I been up to? Not a whole lot these days. I went to my mother's place. My step-father's birthday was yesterday. We went on Saturday. Had dinner. That sort of thing. I brought this glaze stuff. For crafts. It was my step-father's idea to coat the chip in glaze, then add salsa, and glaze it over again. I think he wants to take it to work to see if anyone will eat it. Only he would think of something like that. Full of jokes. I remember one time he took an empty box and he cut a hole in the bottom of it, he wrapped it up like a present and there was an empty ketchup bottle full of water. My brother goes to open his 'present' and he gets nothing but a squirt in the face with water! He cried most of the rest of that night. Some people will just say it was mean, others will say it's funny, and some people will even say it's both mean and funny!
I don't know if it is because I hang out with paranoid people or if it's because the people I hang out with are paranoid, but... They talk about the end of the world coming, pretty much upon us. Our end of days. I don't want to live in paranoia, or denial, but part of me keeps saying that I'll be okay. Maybe that part of me is used to living in Canada where we don't have a war raging. I haven't been watching the news because for the most part it is considerably accurate, but there have been times I know they weren't broadcasting the truth. I've been on the news before and they did broadcast things about me that they got from a source other than me and without my permission. They aren't 100% right. They even messed up the retraction.
I'm feeling pretty good right now. I don't know why. Maybe the beer I just had is now in my blood stream.
"There's too much blood in my alcohol system ociffer!" Man, just thinking about cops boils my blood. Too much politics in a 'boys club' like that. Sure, women do get in, but they only need them to 'search' other women so the cops don't get any 'sexual harassment' allegations. That, and a lot of women don't even trust a man to even talk to. Because all the men in their lives have been untrustworthy.
Anyways, enough ranting about people I can't say I trust 100% either. They've gotten things wrong about me and the last thing I'll say about policing tonight is this: In policing there should be no room for errors because those errors could cost a life.
So now, instead of feeling sorry for myself.... Oh... Boo hoo! I don't get to be a cop! So f*cking what?! Would I even want to be a cop anymore? No. Even though I could do some good out there, I don't even care. People HATE cops. For REASONS. Not because they're criminals, not because they are on the wrong side of the law, but because they are people like me who've been theoretically spat on by the people we are supposed to be able to trust with our lives. Okay. The end. No more cop talk.
About the hitting on married men thing.... There isn't a way to know they're married unless you see a ring on their hand, or unless they tell you they're married, or unless an angry wife tells you they're married. I'm done with guys and dating for a long time. Probably another 5 years. I do and I don't care, at the same time. I think at this point, I don't care a heck of a lot more than actually caring. I'm strong willed so any guy who thinks he could get with me would be in for a surprised. I don't do what I'm told. I'll do what I'm asked, but you have to ask me. You tell me to do it and I'm liable to go tell you to go f*ck yourself. I'm not an "Abby do this!" girl. More like an "Abby, can you please do this!" girl. Please is a special word.
It seems like this'll be a long post, again. I used to keep journals since I was young. It was the only thing I had when I was in group homes. They took away everything out of my room. That's how I lost all my pictures of my father I used to have. I barely remember what he looked like. I got a picture of my father from my Uncle and it was when he was in the 4th or 5th grade. My son looks a bit like my father and quite a bit like his father's father. My father's name was Gerald, but everyone called him by his middle name, Tom,(because my Grandfather's name was Gerald also). It's funny, and a lil sad. When I first found out my father's name, I told a boy at school who happened to be enthralled with football. My father happened to have the same name as a football coach and I thought the two facts were connected. I asked my mother and she told me they are two different guys.
I asked my mother where and how she met my father. She says she can't remember. I can remember where I met my son's father. I think she tried hard to forget everything about my father, tried so hard that she did. Sometimes I wish that I could forget like that, not about my father, but about who I thought was my father. People don't know how lucky they are to know both their parents and luckier still to be able to go and talk to their parents about anything. I can't really talk to my mother about anything. All she kept doing when I brought up something was "Stop blaming me, stop blaming me!" That's all I got. No answers to "why did you do this" or "why didn't you do this". It was that she didn't feel she was responsible and if she did feel responsible, she couldn't take the guilt. So I gave up a long time ago for trying to get answers from my mother. My father can't give me any answers. Nobody can if my mother won't. So I just give up.
There was a family living across the street from 'my childhood home' my grandmother's house. I always envied them. I always wanted them to be a bigger part of my life because they were normal. Well, are normal. They're still alive. I was thinking past tense because although I would really like them in my life again, it wouldn't be a good idea, because they know too much about me. At times I was angry with them. I always felt like the more I tried to be involved with them, the more they wanted to push me away. Even though I knew these people my whole life. It's hard when pretty much no one wants to be a part of your life.
The update is that I'm taking a break from dating. I wasn't happy in the relationship. He wasn't either. It wasn't just me who was unhappy so I can't feel bad about not wanting to be in a relationship. I think he's in denial because he still wants to kiss me and he still tells me he loves me. It wasn't the right time for me. There might never be a 'right time' or a 'right guy'. Part of me feels sad about that, but the other part feels something else. Haven't figured out what that feeling is, yet.
It was kind of funny this morning. I woke up and my computer was still playing episodes of "Fantasy Island". I have only watched the first episode, then I dozed off. I forgot to turn my computer off.
Tonight I'll have to do some baking or something. I finished my peanut butter cookie thing I made. I made peanut butter cookie dough, then put chocolate icing on top, then I baked it. It tastes like Reece's pieces. Not quite, but a close home-made version.
I've been gaining a lot of weight this year. My scale doesn't work right now, needs a new battery, at least I hope it does.... When I was trying to lose weight the last time, it took two years to lose 80 pounds. It was hard. Sometimes I feel like I went backwards in time, like losing all that weight just to gain it back is b*llsh*t!
What have I been up to? Not a whole lot these days. I went to my mother's place. My step-father's birthday was yesterday. We went on Saturday. Had dinner. That sort of thing. I brought this glaze stuff. For crafts. It was my step-father's idea to coat the chip in glaze, then add salsa, and glaze it over again. I think he wants to take it to work to see if anyone will eat it. Only he would think of something like that. Full of jokes. I remember one time he took an empty box and he cut a hole in the bottom of it, he wrapped it up like a present and there was an empty ketchup bottle full of water. My brother goes to open his 'present' and he gets nothing but a squirt in the face with water! He cried most of the rest of that night. Some people will just say it was mean, others will say it's funny, and some people will even say it's both mean and funny!
I don't know if it is because I hang out with paranoid people or if it's because the people I hang out with are paranoid, but... They talk about the end of the world coming, pretty much upon us. Our end of days. I don't want to live in paranoia, or denial, but part of me keeps saying that I'll be okay. Maybe that part of me is used to living in Canada where we don't have a war raging. I haven't been watching the news because for the most part it is considerably accurate, but there have been times I know they weren't broadcasting the truth. I've been on the news before and they did broadcast things about me that they got from a source other than me and without my permission. They aren't 100% right. They even messed up the retraction.
I'm feeling pretty good right now. I don't know why. Maybe the beer I just had is now in my blood stream.
"There's too much blood in my alcohol system ociffer!" Man, just thinking about cops boils my blood. Too much politics in a 'boys club' like that. Sure, women do get in, but they only need them to 'search' other women so the cops don't get any 'sexual harassment' allegations. That, and a lot of women don't even trust a man to even talk to. Because all the men in their lives have been untrustworthy.
Anyways, enough ranting about people I can't say I trust 100% either. They've gotten things wrong about me and the last thing I'll say about policing tonight is this: In policing there should be no room for errors because those errors could cost a life.
So now, instead of feeling sorry for myself.... Oh... Boo hoo! I don't get to be a cop! So f*cking what?! Would I even want to be a cop anymore? No. Even though I could do some good out there, I don't even care. People HATE cops. For REASONS. Not because they're criminals, not because they are on the wrong side of the law, but because they are people like me who've been theoretically spat on by the people we are supposed to be able to trust with our lives. Okay. The end. No more cop talk.
About the hitting on married men thing.... There isn't a way to know they're married unless you see a ring on their hand, or unless they tell you they're married, or unless an angry wife tells you they're married. I'm done with guys and dating for a long time. Probably another 5 years. I do and I don't care, at the same time. I think at this point, I don't care a heck of a lot more than actually caring. I'm strong willed so any guy who thinks he could get with me would be in for a surprised. I don't do what I'm told. I'll do what I'm asked, but you have to ask me. You tell me to do it and I'm liable to go tell you to go f*ck yourself. I'm not an "Abby do this!" girl. More like an "Abby, can you please do this!" girl. Please is a special word.
It seems like this'll be a long post, again. I used to keep journals since I was young. It was the only thing I had when I was in group homes. They took away everything out of my room. That's how I lost all my pictures of my father I used to have. I barely remember what he looked like. I got a picture of my father from my Uncle and it was when he was in the 4th or 5th grade. My son looks a bit like my father and quite a bit like his father's father. My father's name was Gerald, but everyone called him by his middle name, Tom,(because my Grandfather's name was Gerald also). It's funny, and a lil sad. When I first found out my father's name, I told a boy at school who happened to be enthralled with football. My father happened to have the same name as a football coach and I thought the two facts were connected. I asked my mother and she told me they are two different guys.
I asked my mother where and how she met my father. She says she can't remember. I can remember where I met my son's father. I think she tried hard to forget everything about my father, tried so hard that she did. Sometimes I wish that I could forget like that, not about my father, but about who I thought was my father. People don't know how lucky they are to know both their parents and luckier still to be able to go and talk to their parents about anything. I can't really talk to my mother about anything. All she kept doing when I brought up something was "Stop blaming me, stop blaming me!" That's all I got. No answers to "why did you do this" or "why didn't you do this". It was that she didn't feel she was responsible and if she did feel responsible, she couldn't take the guilt. So I gave up a long time ago for trying to get answers from my mother. My father can't give me any answers. Nobody can if my mother won't. So I just give up.
There was a family living across the street from 'my childhood home' my grandmother's house. I always envied them. I always wanted them to be a bigger part of my life because they were normal. Well, are normal. They're still alive. I was thinking past tense because although I would really like them in my life again, it wouldn't be a good idea, because they know too much about me. At times I was angry with them. I always felt like the more I tried to be involved with them, the more they wanted to push me away. Even though I knew these people my whole life. It's hard when pretty much no one wants to be a part of your life.
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