I have complained about my job for so long.  I hate my job!  I am trying to decide whether or not to stay here or find something else to do.  I don't even know why I am feeling so annoyed today.  Could it be because the manager wanted me to use a computer that doesn't work properly.  That is part of it...I don't want to put up with people whining and generally bitching.  I don't really care that you device is broken...If there was a problem with it six months ago why are you just saying something now?

I think having a computer at home is going to open up a new world for me.  I can look at different jobs and such and not worry about being 'caught.'  Whatever...

B~ is complaining because I asked him to clean the litter box.  He claimed that he has changed it three times since we have had the new one.  He has changed it once.  I'm the one who cleans the friggin' box.  Thankfully the battery on my phone dies, so I had an excuse to get off the phone with him without yelling at him. 

I just want to be home so I don't have to be the responsible one.  I would rather be the student going though student things.  I know that isn't going to be easy, but it is better than being angry all the time at the same things I have been angry about for the past five years or so.  I'm so stressed out, my face has broken out terribly.  I'm 35 years old, I shouldn't be getting breakouts! 

I wrote a letter to BC.  She is a wonderful person, but I don't have anything of substance to say to someone I haven't seen in over seven years.  I can't tell her the things I would like to talk about, because she is this proper woman who goes to church with my mother.  She doesn't approve of me living with a man in Arizona.  I'm proud to be with B~. (even though he pisses me off sometimes.)  I'm glad we are out here and have no issues of morality because I'm living with the man I love.  I had to write about fluff.  Sedona is nice, but Phoenix is lousy.  Blah! Blah! Blah! 

I have always wished I could tell my mother EVERYTHING.  I can tell B's mother everything and she doesn't tell me that I'm being a bad person.  My mother wouldn't ever talk about difficult things.  Her general response to anything I had to ask was , "Pray about it."  After awhile, I stopped asking.  It is a horrible feeling to know that I can't go to my mother and just say anything.  I hope to be a mother who my children feel comfortable asking me anything.  I know that Freaky is going to be that kind of father (no, I'm not pregnant...I'm talking about future children.) because that is the way his mother was with him and his brothers and sisters.