A now for something completely different.
2007-02-25 12:01 p.m.

So by now everyone has seen NSWHarry PotterNSW neked? Don't worry, he's legal. Just. Nice picture.

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Pass the nip.
2007-02-25 11:05 a.m.

Cat snuggle.I honestly have no idea how you guys do this whole working full time thing. It's killing me. I feel I'm in some sort of race. I'm going to work as hard and the best that I can until either I get better (I'm still hoping, some sarcoidosis patients get over their disease all together, some have it for the rest of their lives, no one knows why) or I have to give up and go on disability.

I've considered the complexities of moving home. Actually it would be moving into a duplex with my parents and I love them so very much, but I would worry them too much and in turn they would try to micromanage my life in order to get me well. My dad comes up with articles on vitamin deficiencies and sometimes I have to scream: "I have a disease! Would you be doing this if I had cancer?" and I'm not even one of those people who thinks they have a diagnosis because their tests results are slightly wonky. Nope, I had classic Heerfordt's Syndrome, positive blood work, positive chest x-ray, two positive biopsies and seven specialists. There isn't a clearer case of sarcoid in America. (Possibly a slight exaggeration) Basically out of love and caring they'd drive me crazy. Plus the space is too small. I'm going to bigger.

Which leads me to the next step. I'm going to buy a bigger house. Interest rates are crazy low right now. I want a home with enough bedrooms to have roommates if I choose and/or a library and office. That way if my income gets reduced I'll still be able to have the life I'm accustomed to (sitting on the couch watcing Tivo and drinking Diet Coke?) and so will the cats (sitting on the couch watching Tivo and snorting catnip). I keep telling myself that we'll be all right and maybe we will.

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Love For Sale.
2007-02-24 2:49 a.m.

When the Writing is OverI used to have fingers loaded with rings. Each one meant something special to me. In my early twenties I was in a serious relationship that I expected to progress naturally. We date for a few years and then he proposes, we move in together and get married, have babies and live happily ever after. I really don't think that's too much to ask. Isn't that the way it normally goes? His younger brother proposed to his girlfriend during Christmas the previous year and it was a big family ta do. All of us girls ooing and ahing over her gorgeous ring and all the boys slapping the guy on the back. It felt good to be part of that. Next year for Christmas the boyfriend threw a huge party as the house where he lived with his mother. All of our friends were there. During the present giving sessions he handed me a small box. I wasn't too hopeful, but I opened it and it was a square jewelry box. I looked over at my girlfriend and our eyes sparkled. Oh my God, this is it! It's about damn time. she mouthed. I opened it eagerly, ready to slip it on my finger and get hugs from everyone and run to call my parents. My heart was beating so loudly that I could barely contain myself. When I opened the box I pulled out a necklace. It was a necklace of a cut ot heart with little diamond chips in it. It still had the price tag attatched. Cheap. My eyes welled up. I wanted to say something without crying but all I could think of was how much I wanted to get the hell out of there and go as far away as possible as I could. I was thinking Siberia might be nice. My cat and I might like Siberia. He asked me what I thought and I think I screamed out the price on the tag while smiling and pretending to be happy. He admonished me for discussing money but it was right in front of me and I couldn't say what I really felt. Only my friend knew that I had been crushed to the deepest depths of my soul. When I got home that night I ripped my rings off my fingers. I vowed that I would go around bare handed, even if I was dating someone, to show that I was technically a free agent. Not until I was engaged or married would I be truly taken. That didn't mean I wasnt monogamous or true, I just held back a small part of myself that was ready to be filled with that promise. I wanted my happily ever after.

I may be a total moron but I believe in true love and happily ever after. Frankly, I blame my parents for being good role models. They're still married and in love and I had to grow up with that shoved in my face. I had to hear I love you and get hugged all the time. It was positively darling.

When I got sick, my aunt gave me some of the family jewels and I now wear a yellow diamond ring on my right hand. It just so happens the "Right Hand Diamond" is totally vogue now. It's a diamond ring a woman gives to herself to show she is worth it. My aunt gave it to me because it has magical healing abilities. Her and my mother both wore it through health crises and are healthy now.

My left hand is still vacant. The closer I get to forty the more I think it will always be empty and so will that little place that's just waiting to give all my love away.

Where is this all coming from? I've been taking inventory and trying to figure out why (aside from being deathly ill, which really shouldn't stop me) I'm terrified of meeting anyone. It's rejection. I've always been the girl to say "Wow, you know we just aren't working out" and the last one, two, three, four times I've been with someone they've ditched me. I just don't think I can take another "talk" especially when I'm creepily hearing the same words. And honestly I don't know how to get past this.

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They eat divers.
2007-02-22 1:47 a.m.

MarinaI grew up on a small island that was once a Native American burial ground. I was third generation, which may be why the ghosts usually left me alone. It may also explain why as a child we would generally take strange things for granted. Like how every year we'd lose at least one scuba diver. At the end of the island was a little beach that was favored by the local scuba divers. For the life of me, I don't know why. The water was dark with a severe riptide, an undertow and a severe drop off about five hundred yards straight out. This was common knowledge, even to me as a kid, but the divers came every summer anyway.

When you're a kid, riding your bicycle around the Island is a common vocation second only to trudging through the tide pools during low tide, and wading/swimming during high tide (in 45 degree water all year around. It makes for a good trick in the winter. If you can stand the water in the summer then it's really no different to stripping down and jumping in during winter. Thus calling the boys pussies and forcing them to get naked and hem and haw at the waters edge while you got an eyeful).

I remember riding my bike around with my friend Lisa and seeing the scuba van and the buoys in the water. "Do you think the indians will take one today?" I'd say. Lisa who lived next door to a haunted house (He'd lost two wives to the waters) would always know and nod sagely.

More vans would eventually show up at first and then fire and rescue. Sometimes they'd be there all night. Never once did they find the body of a lost diver. They'd get caught in an undertow and dragged over the drop off and disappear. We could never understand why people would scuba dive there at all. Not only was it haunted, but the conditions were just dreadful. It was really strange growing up with death like that. Maybe it didn't bother me because people went into the water by choice, or maybe because we never got to see the death. These people just disappeared.

I lived where we could see the Narrows Bridge. Everyone had a boat. We'd go out to the bridge and Meg and Jean's dad would tell us about the gigantic octopus that lived under the piling of the bridge (the one closer to the Gig Harbor side). When I got older I thought it was just a tale but I read a news article about it. Apparently the North Pacific Octopus can weigh up to 600 pounds with a 30 foot arm span. Some marine biologists got pictures of it. Maybe octopus eats scuba divers, I wondered to myself.

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Disgruntled film maker.
2007-02-21 1:29 p.m.

NyahI just got a comment on my You Tube account wishing that I would die of cancer. It was the video where I was joking about getting an umbrella in the mail from St. Judes. I deleted it immediately because it was so horrifying and the last thing a sick girl needs is someone cursing her with a fatal disease. I wish I had kept it. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I fucking hate You Tube and I'm considering taking down all my stuff and closing my account. About half the comments I get are people saying terribly offensive things to me. And when you go to their accounts they aren't movie makers at all. Usually they just have a few soft porn movies favorited. Their goal in life is to go around telling people what's wrong with them and cursing them to hell. Sometimes by the time I read the comment and then check out their profile it's already been suspended by You Tube. They leave the comments, however, thanks You Tube. I hate the fact that I pour my heart and soul and time into these projects only to get abused. I guess I don't have very thick skin.

I just can't believe what a horrible community it is. Rascism and homophobia run rampant. People will say anything to rip you apart. Nothing you can do will ever please them. It's because no one is held accountable. You can block users but they'll just make a new account five minutes later. Your ISP isn't logged anywhere. I really wish I could limit commenters to other people who have posted their own movies. Right now it's all or nothing.

I think that's why Flickr works so well. If your'e an ass on Flickr people know where to find you. There aren't any (many?) sniper accounts. You are sharing your images with the world. Everyone goes around telling you what they like about your pictures. If they don't like something, they're just quiet and move on. I've been lucky with Diaryland too. I feel like I'm friends with everyone here. People say nice things to me and I say nice things to them. Am I just deluded? Aren't these communities supposed to be fun places? I'm all over constructive criticism but wishing me dead is a little too far. Fuck you. The internet isn't junior high. I've already done that and once was enough.

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Im gonna shoot ya.
2007-02-20 11:49 a.m.

Double snap!I've had an unhealthy addiction to Flickr while I've been off work. First off you D-landers know that there's a Diaryland Flickr Group right? Join it, post pictures and play our game in the discussion area. It's a whole lot of fun. I'm addicted to looking at everyone's pictures. Another fun group I'm enjoying that's adorable beyond belief is the What Is My Pet Thinking Group. And for cuteness overload there's the LOL cat group where my kitties make frequent appearances. I found myself browsing pictures taken with Holga cameras which is a super cheap plastic toy camera that takes really funky vintage looking photos. I was so inspired that I ran over to Amazon and found one on sale so I bought it. Now if I can just figure out the whole film thing. I haven't had to deal with film since college. It's weird going from high tech instant gratification digital to low tech wait for it celluloid. If anyone has any experience or has any websites they'd like to recommend I'd love some information. Also, Dom is on vacation and has given me the keys to his blog. I'm telling the story of how we met during the cold war. Stop by and say "hi" so he'll have a million comments when he gets home!

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Its more than you think!
2007-02-19 7:19 p.m.

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Laziness brought to new levels.
2007-02-19 3:23 p.m.

Cat snoozeI love it when I'm curled up on the couch wrapped in a quilt when it's raining outside. It rids me of any guilt. All of the things I should be doing, suddenly become unimportant when it's pouring outside. Go for a walk? Not in this weather. Laundry? Nope, it's raining. Grocery shopping? Much too dangerous. It's much better to turn the heat up to 69 degrees, wrap up and doze in and out of consciousness for the afternoon. Plus it's a holiday so I have even more license to goof off. It's President's Day. Lincoln and Washington want me to watch the King of the Hill marathon and eat generic lightly salted peanuts. I'm fairly certain it's written somewhere in the constitution. Right next to the part about my right to bare my arms or arm the bears. I forget. The point is, I'm not going to do a God damn thing today. You can't make me.

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Apeshit Part Two.
2007-02-19 12:24 a.m.

I was asked to go apeshit over Anna Nicole after my Britney rampage. Anna Nicole's death kind of hit me hard and I wasn't really sure why. The only thing that we have in common is our age (she's a tad older) and we're both blonde *wink wink*. A lot of people gave her crap about marrying an 88 year old man. She was chided for having a separate bedroom and not giving him all the attention he needed. Oh, come on people! He got exactly what he paid for. Both of them knew up front what kind of marriage this was going to be. She would be his blonde bombshell trophy wife and in exchange she'd have a nice place to live and as many credit cards as her Gucci wallet could hold. I don't think it was unrealistic for her to have her own bedroom and to go out clubbing on the weekends instead of sitting on the couch watching Larry King and going to bed at ten. I think it was exactly what it looked like and the old man knew what he was doing. He was pissing off his money grubbing family by showing he was in control and buying the affection of a beautiful girl. Period. Again, like with Britney, everyone just watched in horror as Anna Nicole slowly killed herself with drugs and alcohol and plain bad decisions. No one ever stepped up and said "You need help, this is what we're going to do." Did you ever watch an episode of her reality show? I think I got through two. It was painful. Her words were so slurred that you could barely understand her and her behavior wasn't entertaining, it was incoherent and bizarre. Keep this in mind: those cameras were with her 24 hours a day and this was the best footage they had spliced together. I think it's funny that when they went to her home they found her fridge full of Slimfast and all the Trimspa food, which she was the paid spokesmodel for, was on the floor. They also mentioned injectible medications in the fridge but only mentioned one by name, methadone. What I find more interesting is that they didn't mention the other drugs, which leads me to believe they were less interesting than methadone. Here's my theory, this is total conjecture, I bet it was insulin and thyrotropin. Both can be used to help with weight loss. It's very dangerous but could explain how she went from a size whatever the hell to a size four so quickly. Insulin also would cause her to collapse and die and wouldn't show up in the autopsy report. Another guess would be she was too hard on her heart, whether or not she had a heart defect like her son, repetitively gaining and losing a large amount of weight is very hard on the body, especially if she was using extreme methods - such as medication, anoxrexia, bulimia - and put on top of that giving birth twice. Let's throw into that lack of sleep, recreational drug use and clubbing. She may have just ran her body into the ground. I hope they figure out who the father of her daughter is soon so she can be taken out of the public eye. She's the real victim in all of this. I love all the articles blaming the public for her death. Yeah, I'm the reason she's dead. I place the blame on her family, friends and employees who watched and did nothing. [/apeshit] Back to our regularly scheduled programming tomorrow.

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