I think I may have something to say, FINALLY

I haven't posted a blog this year.  It hasn't been the best year, I must say.  And if I haven't blogged it must mean I am afraid of something:  Afraid of sharing myself, afraid of being made fun of, afraid of being embarrassed, of being wrong, or seen as stupid, or too smart, or of being "found out" that I am simply not good enough for some imagined measurement of personhood that people use to judge others.

When I used to ask my wonderful Dad for help as to how I could change something in my life he would tell me, "When you get tired enough of it you'll change it".  There's a lot of truth in that.  There's something about being miserable that makes you ready to change things.  Through the past several months my life has taken so many twists and turns that I'm not quite yet sure which way is up, or which way I'm headed.  But one thing I know now is that it doesn't really matter.  Whichever way I am going I must forge ahead, for better or for worse.  I cannot continue to isolate myself and be as depressed over happenings in my life - no matter how big.

It is humbling to realize that life really can bring you to your knees without the support of others, no matter how strong you think you are.  Since my divorce and Father's death I have become more and more convinced that I was supposed to go through life alone; relying on no one but myself.  I have discovered, relatively recently, that is not true, and although I may not yet be convinced I am worthy of love I think there is a possibility of it and I am hopeful.  Surely, this is a damn site better than where I have been.

That is all, for now.  More later.    >O'  <----that's my fish icon...

Walk on the Beach 11/14/10

The world always looks better after a trip to the beach, er, ocean. Well, call it what you will. They're kinda indivisible. Ever thought of that? If you go to the beach you go to the ocean, or at least a body of water. In Texas we had a lot of lakes that frequently were better called big mud puddles, but there was always a beach. I frequently camped on the beach and scuba dived in the big mud puddle attached to it. :) Very fond memories.

You can really tell the Snowbirds are back in Florida. There was a lot more trash on the beach tonight; most notably plastic bags that I picked up and threw away. The birds were pecking on them out of curiosity. Some humans are such pigs.

The sunset was gorgeous, of course, but I didn't see any dolphin feeding. The sand was so cold that by the time I had walked the width of the beach to reach the shore my toes were frozen! The water was a little warmer but not my much. I didn't time my walk very well. The time change still has me confused. By the time I got there it was later than I thought so I had to turn around before I reached the pier. But I still got some good thinking in, found 2 really great shells (some obsessions may never go away), found my sense of humor and left with serenity and peace. Life is never perfect, but all is well.

The Two-Day Filter

OK. Putting time and space inbetween "news" and "action" often helps one's perspective. It's been two days since I found out that I may be losing some income and may not be able to make ends meet each month. I've mulled it over and put it through the "outside the box" computer - or whatever that magic thing is that gets me out of these tight squeezes every time I'm in them.

Maybe living in a tent isn't the best "Plan A". I'd love to go back to work part time, but that brings problems all its own. It wouldn't bring in more money, and it might eventually lead to a whole lot less money. Of course, that's not the real problem. I don't think I COULD work. I don't have easy access to sumatriptan right now - and I would need that to work; my back is still a daily painful issue; and I might be putting my insurance in jeopardy and I can't afford to do that. In so many cases it is the government that keeps people on disability, not the individuals themselves. The system is set up so that it becomes impossible to get out of it if you have a chronic illness. Life just isn't black and white like the government would like for it to be... like so many people would like for it to be. Sure, I'd love it if life were clear cut and laid out perfectly but I learned long ago it isn't. I guess it's just another place I don't fit in. (Wow, I'm not in a good place this weekend.)

So -- I don't think going back to work is the answer. I had hoped to when I moved down here, and maybe sometime in the future I can, but not now. NEXT!

What about a roommate? Baaaaaaaaahaaahahahahaha!!!!!! I only want a roommate if he'll fuck my legs off three nights a week and on weekends. Oh, and he has to be a soulmate, too. NEXT.

Sell everything? God knows I'm trying. Well, OK, not very hard. I'm still in the middle of getting all my stuff to Florida. That's why a big part of me is so angry. I had everything where I wanted it here in the apartment and now I have to practically re-situate everything to accomodate the stuff that I really wanted to put there in the first place. Did you get that??? The stuff I really wanted all along was in Greensboro.

I'm looking back at this move and wondering how all this happened... Did I bring this all on myself? Should I have asked for help? You see, I will do just about anything to not feel like a victim. I spent far too much of my life feeling like a victim. So I do the opposite of being a victim - I blame myself for things that might not be my fault rather than blame someone else for things that happen to me. But it feels better to take responsibility for myself and then have it be on me than feel like a victim. Maybe that's why I have trouble asking for help. I don't want to be victimized ever again. And I figure if no one helps me then I'll be responsible for everything I do.

Hmmmm... there's something wrong with that logic. LOL Maybe a little over-reaction to being a victim, huh. Then, of course, there's that perceived reality that no one really cares enough to help me, anyway. That has certainly been proven a couple of times. Again, though, that is also an over-reaction to unforeseen circumstances where people couldn't show up due to various reasons. Well, that, and the incessant belittling from my Ex. [Thank you, Dr. Freud. We now return you to Debi's Blog.]

Bloody hell, where was I? I think I'm going to take this stupid money issue and table it, or better yet sink it during my walk at the beach tonight. If my days are numbered I want to enjoy them. Worrying about this shit isn't going to make it go away or put it off. I want to think about how wonderful it is that I live here at all... how grateful I am for everything I have, and that I don't have a headache today. I have food to eat, if not all my drugs, but fuck my drugs. Who needs them? :) I want to yell across the ocean that Aung San Suu is free - at least for the time being - and feel the gratitude in my bones. When I am cheering up my friends and family I never think of my problems. I would so much rather do that than worry about me. I don't know if that is the path to enlightenment or not. I hope so. It sure as hell makes me feel better, and it seems to make others feel better. However, I DO know that all the "Christians" in my life think I'm going to hell if I try to be "enlightened". But not to worry. I don't believe in hell. :) I DO believe that when we are negative bad things happen, and we must try to be as positive and kind as we can. But that is for another blog... I've got to get back to work on this seemingly impossible task of re-arranging my apartment. It'll get done. At some point.

First, Do No Harm

This was a bad day. It didn't start out that day, but it ended up as one, long adventure in pain.

My insurance, in it's God-Complex-As-Only-An-Insurance-Company-Can-Have, cut me off from the medication that resolves (medical jargon for "gets rid of") my migraines. Apparently due to cutbacks I am allowed 48 shots of sumatriptan each year now, and I have planned my headaches badly. Bad Debi. Bad, bad Debi. Actually, if you think about it, that's 4 shots a month. That's more than I usually use, so I'm not sure what's up with me this year. But the fact is I have cluster headaches, not normal migraines. That diagnosis has probably gotten lost in my paperwork because the sumatriptan now exists and has worked so well for me. OH, AND NO ONE HAS EVER COUNTED HOW MANY DOSES I'VE USED PER YEAR.

I used to live in fear of my migraines simply because I would be in pain for days on end, unable to move, vomiting up nothing, delirious, and alone. Depending on whether or not I was married at the time, I would get so sick that at some point I would drive my idiot self to the ER and either call a friend or take a Taxi home, or my husband would drop me off on his way to work and pick me up on his way home, or whenever. The only way to treat migraines before the late 1980's was pain meds and anti-nausea drugs. Then came Ergotamines. They helped somewhat, but still left you looking like a mummy and acting stupid as a stone.

I took part in the drug tests for sumatriptan. I know I took the actual drug, because within 20 minutes this wave of relief swept over me like I'd never felt before. It was amazing. Life as I had known it was changed forever. Of course, it took years for it to hit the market, but once it did, life was good. In fact, a doctor once asked me if I had a choice to get rid of my lupus or my migraines which would I choose? Without skipping a beat I responded that I'd gladly keep the lupus. This astounded the doctor, as well as me, considering that the lupus was a deadly disease and migraines were not. But I didn't live in fear of lupus; I did of migraines. And now I am back to that way of life because someone - NOT MY DOCTOR - thinks I've had enough sumatriptan this year. In fact, they are so bent on this position that they are willing to pay a hospital to give me the shot rather than have me give it to myself.

So I must play this game until January 1, 2011, though it's no game. It's my quality of life. I offer up, as an example, today's adventure. A 4-day migraine that I almost got rid of last night, but I just didn't quite get it done. So off to my first ER visit in Florida. All is going well. I'm meditating to ease the pain until the shot comes - which as we all know can be hours - and it was... about two. So a nurse walks in with THREE, count 'em, THREE shots when I only needed one: SUMATRIPTAN. She's got the sumatriptan, a pain injection, and an anti-nausea. I appreciated the thought, but the sumatriptan gets rid of all of those immediately so there's no need for the pain and the anti-nausea shot at all. I'm not sure why they were ordered by the doctor, unless this was his first time treating a migraine. Lucky me.

OK, back to my adventure. The problem started when the anti-nausea medicine the nurse is about to give me was one I am allergic to. OOPS. So I point this out and all of a sudden EVERYTHING CHANGED. The atmosphere in the room went thick. Her attitude went from nurse-like to attorney-ish. I asked her if she checked my chart first; I never got a response to that. She kept interrupting me. OOOOOOOOOO... that is a huge pet peeve of mine. I HATE being interrupted. It's rude, and you can't possibly communicate when someone keeps interrupting you. HUGE PET PEEVE. Thus, she doesn't hear most of what I say, and I'm so out of it from the pain that I can't remember most of what she said. LOL - Although, it wasn't funny at the time. I remember she said something like, "I never came close to your skin with that shot." HUH? Who brought my skin into this? Then, "Well, I don't actually have the shot with me." HUH? Then how could you have come close to my skin anyway? This was the way the conversation, er, lecture went. Then suddenly she says she's going to "waste" these three shots and go talk to the doctor. WHAT? She's got my sumatriptan in her hands and she's going to "WASTE" it? I've been in pain for FOUR DAYS, she's a foot away from me with the one thing that will get me out of pain and she's going to "WASTE" it? And that's exactly what she did. She walked over to the red box where you put used needles, put all the meds into the box and walked out.

I lost it. I didn't stop crying for the next 2 1/2 hours. I don't know why, I just couldn't. I stood at the door to my ER room crying those huge, guttural cries, gasping for breath, asking people to send my nurse in and no one would. The entire staff ignored me. I've actually had dreams like this. Being a frequent patient, when others have complete control over whether you are in pain or out of pain it is a desperately helpless feeling. It's difficult to maintain any dignity at all.

I've been in pain with my lupus for over half my life. OK, life sucks. But if I don't have to be in pain I have vowed not to be. Someone else can play Saviour, I'm going to get out of pain. The technology exists for me to be free of pain on occasion and I will take advantage of that freedom whenever I can. More and more the powers that be (the FDA, the government, I don't know who) has decided that pain meds are dangerous. All the scientific data has proven that pain meds are only a danger to people who are not in pain. The percentage of people in pain that get addicted is actually very low, despite the high profile headlines we see. It is only those who aren't really in pain that get addicted. People in true pain don't want the meds when they don't need them because they would rather live a normal life. Pain meds fuck you up. We don't want to feel fucked up. We want to feel NORMAL; and pain meds make us feel normal when we are in pain.

With sumatriptan for migraines pain meds are not necessary. The sumatriptan actually treats the cause of the pain (inflammation of the blood vessels in the brain) and thus the pain is immediately dissipated. Fun, huh. BUT FIRST YOU HAVE TO GET THE SHOT.

My migraine is still present and accounted for, and I've had the maximum dosage I can have of sumatriptan for the next 24 hours. I'm screwed. I don't know what I'll do tomorrow, but for tonight it's just another night of pain with no way out.

You MUST Listen To Your Soul

I am feeling overwhelming gratitude this minute - hell, this week. So many incredible things have happened this week; both bad and good, and in time they have shown their true colors and made clear what I needed to see.

I just arrived home from a dinner Meetup where I met wonderful, new people and, FOR THE FIRST TIME, saw old, familiar people that I'd seen at other meetups and recognized AND THEY RECOGNIZED ME! And just by being who I am I was able to make a newcomer feel as if she'd been there for years (I have a way of doing that - if I do say so myself). The people that recognized me were giving me a hard time, joking with me about being a dive instructor and a football fan. I felt like one of the group. It was wonderful.

After dinner we went to the first bar I went to when I first moved here: Ozona Blue. It has a swimming pool, a jacuzzi, and is right on the water. It's fucking amazing. There was live music tonight (as there was at the other place, but for some reason - which I don't care to detail at this time - we decided to go down the road a half mile and the equivalent of Key West to South Beach) and we drank and danced and had a great time. After everyone left I stayed and bathed in the moonlight - trying my best to get a moonburn on one of the lounge chairs listening to the band. I couldn't understand why someone, on a Friday night, would want to leave the company of a live band (who was pretty good), the quarter moon, the sound of the waves lapping at the boats tied up nearby, the glow of the pool, the service of the waiters in the cool breeze of a Florida evening. I just didn't get it. Search me. I have to get up early this morning, too, but SERIOUSLY! NOTHING is that important. If it is you don't have your priorities in order.

So when I finally peeled myself out of that lounge chair I meandered down 19 Alternate (which runs down the Gulf Coast) and stopped by (first) Edgewater to walk the pier and cry. I do this frequently; both walk the piers and cry. LOL I talk to the water and tell it my dreams and how soon I will see it. This time I could tell it it would be really soon. :) I'd found my scuba shop and I now knew it was going to be REALLY soon. I stopped to think about that for a moment... I've been here a bit over 2 months, and as impatient as I am I have found a scuba shop. That's bloody ridiculous. OH - I'M SORRY. I didn't find them - they found me. Well, pretty much.

Anyway, I dried my tears, got back in the car, and continued down 19 Alternate to Sunset Point - my street. Well, basically my street. I live right off of it - you probably can't find my street on a map to save your life. It DID take the U.S. Postal Service an entire MONTH to find me, after all. I pulled off at 19 and Sunset Point to a lookout on the Gulf and sat and looked at Clearwater Beach across the bay for a few minutes. I still can't believe I live here. I wake up every day to this ridiculous noise of Highway 19 - the deadliest road in Florida - a sound I have grown to love (how nuts is that???), I hear the whirl of my ceiling fan in the background (because it is now cool enough to leave the windows and doors open and cool the apartment with the fans only), I hear the birds, the frogs, the crickets, the occasional emergency siren, noisy neighbors, and endless other noise pollution and I know I am in paradise. Frankly, the apartment that I lived in in Greensboro which was situated in the middle of a protected National Park was FAR MORE QUIET than where I live now.

So why do I go to sleep and wake up knowing I am in the paradise I never want to leave for the rest of my life??? It makes me laugh! I can't smell the salt water from here, I can't see it from here, I can't smell fish from here, I have some palm trees around but no mangroves and CERTAINLY no manatees. But I am home. Wherever I am in this silly place, as long as I'm within spitting distance of the beach I'm home. And trust me, that "spitting distance" is getting shorter and shorter every day. LOL

The gratitude I am feeling is overwhelming and, at times, feels like one of those waves that will overtake you when you're in about waist deep. I get angry at times for staying in Greensboro for so long. I feel like I wasted so much time. I felt so lost and I felt like Greensboro was the center of the Universe and I was such a nobody. That is how I know that it was not very good for me. The center of the Universe should never feel like it is on Earth. It isn't. I now feel like I am balanced, and the Earth and the Universe are balanced around me. I believe THAT is what the world should feel like. When we begin to feel like we are the center of the Universe, or someone near to us is (like when your Father is dying) then we should realize that our world is out of balance; because - as stands to reason, it is.

I am still a bit peeved at Greensboro, but I will forgive. I always do. I simply couldn't get here any quicker. It wasn't within the realm of possibility. However, if you are reading this and you have any of the above-mentioned symptoms, or you feel the least bit unhappy where you are, GET THE FUCK OUT AND RUN TO THE PLACE THAT MAKES YOU HAPPY. You will never be sorry you did. You will wonder why you didn't do it sooner.

The New Scuba Meetup

What's the next great thing that the Universe has in store for moi? Getting wet. Scuba, here I come. I had joined a scuba meetup and was really underwhelmed with them for different reasons. But Wednesday night there was another one I joined that was holding their monthly meeting just up the road a tad so I attended and was pleased with what I found.

First of all, there was a woman running the meeting. This is no small deal. Being a woman that was taught by Navy divers over 20 years ago I know how hard it is to break into the dive business. Most of the men in power still don't think women should be in the business of diving, and I remember how I had to do everything twice as good to get the same grade as the men.

Second, there were TONS of announcements about how many dives were coming up. This place and that place and here and there. I had NO idea where they were, but that's no surprise; the point is the opportunity is there for me to go and learn where they are. WOO HOO!!!

Third, there was an announcement about an archaeological dive class coming up that you can walk away with a certification as an Underwater Archaeologist Mapper (or some minor classification). Not bad for a couple day's work and $75 bucks. Think of the fun things I could do with that!!! And I just happen to have the refund from my Greensboro apartment eating a hole in my pocket waiting to be used for something special... I think I've found it! :D

Fourth, they had a speaker from a manufacturer that brought some really cool play toys to learn about and play with. Always fun.

Fifth, at the end of the meeting as I was introducing myself to the organizer and the other "important" people they began to understand I was an instructor. There was a sudden hush in the room and an exchange of looks. The organizer looks at me and says, "Are you looking for a job?" I'm like, "Huh?" LOL It turns out the co-organizer at another dive shop is looking for another instructor to help out. I'm dumbfounded. How is it that people doubt the Universe when stuff like this happens?

The reality of the situation is that I've been absent from instructing so long that I would have to take another IDC (Instructor Development Course) and IE (Instructor Exam) plus get my insurance back up to current. So (ballpark) we're talking about $3,000 give or take. I simply don't have that kind of money. BUT I could play divemaster for him, which covers almost the same responsibilities without the cost for about $130. Now THAT I could probably swing. It would hurt, but if you don't tell my creditors I won't either. :/

Diving is such a funny business... You pay all this money to volunteer to pay more money to dive. Nuts, isn't it. So, yes, I'd be paying money to be insured to be able to pay to fill my air tank and fill my gas tank to take trips to fill my air tank even MORE to help certify little tiny baby squids (what we call new students) so they don't die and can learn the wonder of scuba diving and help us save the oceans - because most of them become automatic ecologists. Did that make any sense? Eh....

I am THRILLED at finding this meetup. What an opportunity to get back in the water, work with students again, and - oh yes, spend more money I don't have. LOL Oh, wait though... there were a couple of really cute guys there, though. ;)

Merry Me, Not Contrary

Oh what a wonderful day! The good news I got today has set me free. The sky was blue, the moon was AMAZING! - one of those little fingernail moons that was going down just as I was getting home from Tampa. It was white when I first saw it, and by the time I got home it was orange. SO BEAUTIFUL!

I want to pop a cork on some champagne! I have dodged a bullet so big I'm going to celebrate until - well, my whole life. Literally. I've been given a second chance to do things I thought I wouldn't get to do. My life just gets better and better. I don't know what I did to deserve the gifts I've been given, but I am grateful beyond what words can describe. I am envisioning things I dared not envision a year ago. I am practicing the Law of Attraction better than ever, and truly great things are going to happen in my life - hell, ARE happening in my life.

Now if I could just decide whether to get a cat or not. LOL

10/10/10 - Eighteen Years

...probably because I'm back in Florida.

You know what? It's all good. I just can't dwell on the negative. I'm too happy now. And that just makes me feel happier. :)

Dreams will come true. 50.

Bye-bye Boxes

I am such a happy camper! I have unloaded every single box from my move. OK, so it took me six weeks... I don't care. Besides, I went days on end without working on them. Life HAS to be more than unloading boxes. LOL

All that aside, it is so AWESOME to have them gone. I am still throwing things away, putting things in order, loading (other) boxes and putting them downstairs until I decide what to do with them (my personal storage unit is right underneath my apartment - I LOVE this apartment complex. They have a great setup and really thought through a lot of common problems that haunt apartment dwellers). It is so cool to see my hardwood floors and beautiful dark cocoa carpet. Who knew I'd like the browns and sandy colors in this place? I thought I'd have reservations about decorating with them, but they are fitting right in. LOVE IT, LOVE IT, LOVE IT!

The size of my laundry room is amazing! So much room for storage and run-over from the bathroom. The bathroom is big but only has one very small cabinet. I had to add a bookcase from IKEA - one that doesn't look like a bookcase but more like a "show-unit" - to have enough room for my "girlie" stuff. Obviously the space was designed by a man. LOL The odd thing is that there was PLENTY OF ROOM for a bookcase in the bathroom. Impressive, huh? The lines are clean and modern, and of course I decorated it in purple (and teal) and sea shells. :)

The kitchen is really looking good. My cobalt blue accessories, cobalt blue canisters, cobalt blue Kitchen-Aid mixer, black and purple grape hanging rack and accessories, and the other fruity/cobalt blue things looks fantastic. And I was able to forgo the cost of a rug by using my old bathroom rugs (which don't look old at all) for now. They look great on the hardwood floor.

The dining room is incomplete because the base to my dining room table is still up in storage in Greensboro. But the hutch with my dishes in it, the etagere with my special things, and the two huge purple dining room chairs are looking fantastic in there.

I still need to find places for all my books. I am alarmed by how old fashioned I am at times. I love books and don't really know how to give them up. I can't afford any of the new technology to replace them, and I'm not sure I would even if I could. I like the sturdiness of a book, and I don't want to stare at some kind of screen to read. That's not my idea of relaxation.

I am still missing one of my papasan chairs. It rests as the crown in my storage unit in G'boro. LOL I need to buy one more besides that one, so there is plenty still in progress.

The bedroom is the last room to be done. It's pretty much a mess still. But with my vow of celibacy it's no real big deal... it's not like anyone is going to see it anytime soon. LOL It is hard to find the clothes I want to wear, though. HA! The joke's on me!

I still have to tweak the feng shui around here and that will take some time, especially when all my pictures and quite a bit of my decor accessories are still in Greensboro. I need to get that started, though, because it will help iron out the life bumps I'm experiencing right now. Everytime I get the feng shui right in a corner of my "life" it improves. So that is high on my agenda.

It feels good to be free of those damn boxes. Mayhem has exited, order is eminent. I must remember though, as I recently told a friend of mine, "Life is a journey, not a destination." There will always be something to add, subtract, improve, throw away, give away... such is the adventure and excitement of growing and learning. I hope to never stop looking around and seeing what can change and improve.

The Sockaroon

I've got about 5 blogs I haven't been able to get my thoughts to gel on yet so they're not posted. This one, though, I'm gonna knock out in just a few minutes or so.

I am still getting books and knick-knacks and stuff in the bookcases. I'm hurting so badly... physically, I mean. Ugh. I can only work so fast right now and I can't possibly work on the apartment 24/7, though I'd like to. So here I am putting stuff up, and I saw a journal from several years back when I was living in DC. I was complaining about one thing or another, making a list of things that I knew to be the truth. The second item on the list was this:

"2) I have a very sweet kitty."

I immediately thought back to the time this was happening. My father died 11 months later so this was a very difficult time for me. I was helping Mary take care of Dad and living in a house in DC with 2 roommates; one of which was seriously certifiable. I was so broke that I didn't have enough money to buy food for Socks. So we split the food I ate. I was sure to buy things that he could eat, too. I lived in one bedroom and had kitchen privileges [OMG - the memories make me cringe...] and Socks and I seldom left the bedroom because it was so awful. When I left the house I had to lock him in the bedroom. Whenever I did have my door open he would sit on the bed, stare out my bedroom door, and guard me. He watched out for me, as I had watched out for him when I was married to Michael.

That cat and I were the best of friends. I talked to him constantly and he would talk back when he had something to say. He let me know by the tone of his meows what he needed, and he traveled with me to Oklahoma, between Greensboro and Dave's and Dad & Mary's house in the DC area, and even down to Alabama once. I cancelled an entire week of activities when he dislocated his hip (including a very important Women's convention in Charlotte) to nurse him back to being able to walk. He was my son in every sense of the word except biologically, and in a very real way my comrade in arms during my marriage.

I'm lonely. I miss having someone around to talk to, to entertain, and to entertain me. We would play "knock the thing off the bathroom counter". It cracked me up and he loved it. He would hide under tables and attack my ankles when I walked by. He LOVED headbutts. He enjoyed walking across the keyboard when I was typing. And at bedtime he would walk up to my computer chair late at night and sit and look up at me. I'd look down and he would say, "Mom, time to go to bed. I'm tired." Well, that's what his eyes would say. He had the sweetest eyes I ever saw.

I still cry - often. I loved that cat for 17 1/2 years. I got him AFTER I retired so I was with him night and day. And it's not like he went off to kindergarten and grade school and high school. I was with him day in - day out, 24/7. I would call him when I went on vacation and demand that Michael put the phone up to his ear so I could talk to him. OK, so I was a little neurotic. Sue me. He'd always talk back and his ears would perk up.

I want another cat but I don't know if I can take the pain of loving and losing again. Loving something - or someone - feels like nothing else on Earth. The highs are amazing. The lows are as low as humans get. It's putting yourself out there and knowing that at some point this person is going to let you down and hurt you. You have to be strong enough, and love that person enough, to be able to get through that... and then live to love them again. A great deal of my life has been about loss; 2 cars in car accidents, my health, my teeth, my ability to walk for awhile, my independence for awhile, my hair (now), my job, my ability to make money at all, my Dad, my Step-Dad... people really are taken back when I tell them some of the things I've been through. And I thought most people had been through this stuff. Silly me.

I don't know if I have it in me to love another cat. That cat may have been my soul mate - as cats go. And what if I do get another cat? Then I'm tied down again if I want to travel - and I LOVE to travel - not that I have the money to do that right now. I don't mind being alone, but right now I'm lonely. I need... patience, I guess. That's what everyone tells me, anyway. I've dated off and on since I moved to Greensboro, but only a handful of men - say 6. Six men in 6 years??? And only two of them I am still in touch with because they were the only two that measure up to my standards. Nothing to brag about, huh. Although I'm not in touch with all the men I would like to still be in touch with from, say DC, I'm still in touch with a lot of them. I am very proud of that fact. Somewhere in here is a nice person that quality people liked. I don't know what happened to her. But no one of any quality has come along lately. That, or I am not who I used to be. Maybe part of her died when Daddy did. I don't know. But men go running in the opposite direction after they get past my looks - or they seem to. I wish I knew what signal I was giving off that makes me so undesirable. I know it's me because if it wasn't I'd be dating someone. People don't go through dry spells like this without there being a reason. I am working on looking for that reason.

I am so very grateful that at least I am in Florida where I can live happily ever after by myself. I can run to the beach now, and the beach makes me happy. Like I've said before, if nothing else good ever happens to me again at least I have the beach.

My girlfriend Wen Li, from China - well, originally from China - who lives in Greensboro, Vegas, and Naples, FL right now (she's in real estate) is coming to see me on Saturday. I am very excited about it. She has the means to travel and I am lucky to be able to see her and have her so close at times (Naples is about 3 hours away). I gotta get back to work getting this place finished.

I have a lot of thinking still to do on the cat front. Yes, no, yes, no - I go back and forth. It would take money that I don't really have right now, so I wouldn't do it immediately. We'll see. All my friends think I should get one, though. Even Mom does.

All I know is that Sockaroonie is still with me sometimes. He visits, like Dad does, except Socks follows me around the house and curls up and sleeps with me. Dad doesn't do that. Dad floats.