And all I need is a guiding hand to get where I need to go. That, and some ideas on how to go about writing my book. I'm going to do it... I have to... it needs to be done. I have to get the bullshit out of my head, do what's best, put my most valuable talents to work for me, and make something of myself. This way, when I'm gone, people will remember me for something good, and I won't have to die feeling like I was a waste of human life...
 

Yeah... the deepest part of me... the darkest, most dangerous side of me that almost nobody knows about... but you do - and you like it - because you are the same way, so you understand that part of me... and we thrive on each other... almost feed off each other... and when the day comes that our two worlds collide - its going to be an explosive situation to say the least... and I can't wait....
 

I know how I feel about it... but I wonder.. how does her HUSBAND feel about the 6-10 phone calls every day... how does he feel about his wife spending hours on the phone every single day with another man? How would YOU feel... if it was ME??? And how would you feel if you knew who I was talking to, but I would LIE to you about it every chance I got? Do you like that feeling in your gut? Me neither... so I think we need to come to some kind of agreement soon... before I get tired of being lied to and just....walk away
 

Still unpacking, still trying to find room for everything, still dealing with people who can't seem to get their OWN shit together and expecting ME to get it together for them. Newsflash - I can't get my own shit together long enough to deal with it. Find someone else to be your elmer's glue... k??
 

It's the mood I'm in right now. The "tear you apart, rip your heart out and hand it to you" mood. It's the people around me. I'm letting them get to me. I'm laying down again. Becoming a doormat again. But this time I see it coming, and this time, I'm gonna trip those fuckers as they come through the door...
 

Because Bill Withers, "Aint No Sunshine"... makes my hair stand up on my arms, makes me actually SWOON... and i dont USE that word, its lame... but that's what it does to me. There's no other way to explain it....
 

Yeah, wtf was that all about? Why is it necessary for this shit to happen like this? Why do I always give whats left of me to the ones that dont deserve it... or worse... dont want it??? Fuck it...time to go to work...
 

tonight I got a very valuable lesson from someone I never expected to get a lesson from... my daughter... and I never realized how truly intelligent she was until just now
 

We listen to our music at night... except in my case - I got that shit goin 24/7 .... LOL, I know, I'm a sick bitch. But I had a funky dream last night that I got a personal invite from DJ Trashy to come and be schooled in the art of vinyl mixing. And yes, mixing on vinyl IS an art... oh, wouldn't that just be the most major dream come true??? Maybe its the fever.... oh well, time to get ready for work... bleh
 

i do the things i do, because its the only way i know to control the chemicals in my brain... it's familiar to me... all of it. I dont have to ask what the side effects are because i already fucking know what the side effects are... my brain lets me know when its time to kick the dust up and clean out from under the carpets... and its telling me it might be time again soon... before the inevitable explosion comes... because the next one might be deadly....


 

and it is, a new year... with new worries and new happiness and old friends... I think I'll enter that "Dear Me" contest... it could prove to be interesting...
 

He said, "I can talk to anybody around me about anything - but it doesnt do the same thing for me as talking to you"
And something inside her stirred... something odd that felt a little out of place, but oh so right... and it scared her, and she liked it.... a little too much maybe but that's okay. Because all of a sudden she looked forward to their next conversation... and she liked that too...
 

When you'll keep ur stereo blasting as loud as you want no matter who's on the phone... but as soon as YOU wanna talk on the phone, you turn that shit down... ya fuckin rude ass
 

finally got my payment in the mail... just cross ur fingers it gets where its gotta go before all my shit gets purged... bleh
 

I was browsing one of my daughter's online blogs, and came across this incredibly emotional piece. I've read it over a thousand times, and can hear her screaming inside her own mind... how do I help her, now that she's this far???

cigarettes and booze
Current mood: bored


"did somebody say alcohol?" my voice came out as desperate as i felt. the words were supposed to sound mellow and laid back like, "yeah, sure, i'll take a beer." at least, thats how they were rehearsed. but who needs manners in a place like this anyway? besides, with 6 or 7 heads on a 12 pack, if anyone wanted to get a decent buzz they had to be quick. from my corner of the room, i watched beer after beer being distributed to the others. i waited patiently on the outside, i was screaming though, in my head. 5 down, 7 to go. who will be the lucky one? and finally, after what seemed like an eternity of extreme tension.... the stork brought my baby. my buddy, little buddy budweiser. i want to lie. i want to throw some sugar on the lemon by saying dont worry, this isnt an every day thing. as this thought crosses my mind, i laugh out loud. buddy budweiser is filling my throat and soothing my tempered soul. nobody gets me like buddy bud. nobody. not even the beautiful faces that surround me at this moment. we are all here for different reasons, but we come together to escape the pain of our reality, we drink. and we drink, alot. breakfast? sure, i'll take a b.l.t (bud light to go) thank you, come again. it's like a party that never ends. no dead lines, no commitments. just drink, laugh, and smoke. we're just a group of young bodies and old souls, surviving on cigarettes and booze.

by
Amanda Johanson
 

I would LOVE to know other's opinions about this case. I say, beat that whore until she tells what she did to her little girl. Torture her... send her overseas and put her on the front lines... tie her down and shoot her up with smack until she's so addicted she can't live without it... find that little girl, figure out what happened to her, and then do the same to her mother. MY personal opinion? She killed her little girl... and I would love just 5 minutes alone in a room with that bitch... just 5 minutes is all I ask.

The only reason she's NOT telling where little Caylee Anthony is very simple. The bitch is loving the attention. I watched on television this morning as she high-fived her brother and smiled. She wants the attention, and she's getting it. I say, shut down the tv cameras, stop doing the interviews, completely ignore the bitch and she'll snap eventually. And I'm wondering if that's what happened in the first place. The baby was getting more attention than she was, and she couldn't handle it. Like I said, turn off the cameras, stop the interviews, and put me in a room with her - 5 minutes is all I want... okay, maybe 10...
 

Well, we got thru most of them okay, but here comes Ike - Cat 4 - 135 mph winds - and they have NO idea where it's going.... So I've decided that if it comes TOO close, if there's any possibility at all that it might hit us... everything I've got that's worth anything is getting sold, and I'm getting the FUCK out of Florida.

I swear, if I'm not dodging crack heads with guns and meth heads with attitude, I'm dodging hurricanes. I'm about ready to give up completely.....

love, life, parenting... hell, just living sometimes... can I rewind and start over, please?