I know drug real from real real!

[dolari]

All my dreams are lost and I can't sleep
And sleep alone could ease my mind
All my tears have dried and I can't weep
Old emotions may they rest in peace

Boy has this journal gone from bad to worse. This has not been my best weekend. Not by a long shot.

Saturday IWoke up...Dad told me he had the part to fix my truck - the water pump itself. Thankfully, dad didn't hae to buy the pump - he got one from a...questionable...friend of his. Free of charge.

I tell him, great, let's work on it! "No, we'll do it tomorrow."

Thanks, Dad. 'preciate it. Next time, dont' get my hopes up.

Worse yet, my Uncle Steve coems over for a visit. Not that Uncle Steve is the problem...no...the "ritual" is the problem.

I've been taking female hormones for a while now, just a little over a year, and I've grown some very tiny, yet noticable breasts. Breasts my family is not very proud of. Breasts I am VERY proud of. They don't allow me to be female in the house...when I moved in from Austin, all my female clothes was quickly boxed up and put away, leaving me with about three t-shirts and two pairs of jeans (I've been living female fulltime since about 1997, I just dont' NEED that old clothes anymore). Androgynous stuff at best. Definately not male, but it doesn't scream GIRL. Mom did all this while I was asleep...which is usually when she is at her dastardly-est.

Remind me to tell you about the time she cut my hair while I was asleep, and why I sleep with my doors locked.

Anyways, when company comes over, I have to bind the girls down. This makes for a VERY cranky Jenn. Especially over a very long extended period of time. Women of the world, if you are EVER asked to bind your breasts down for whatever reason, hit the person over the head with a metal pipe and run as fast as you can away from that person.

Unfortunately, I gotta live with these people. On goes the horribly tight spandex top I have to wear.

Uncle Steve himself was fine...and the day went without incident. Heck, I even got some money out of the deal: MOm made a MExican Dish called Mole'. Pronounced Mo-lay. I'm not a big fan of Molay. IT's got a thick syrup on it...and while I don't mind the taste of mole', I do object to thick syrups. You'd think I'd object to the Mole' itself, since it's chicken in a chocolate/peanut butter sauce. Nah, it's actually quite good...but heavy.

Now you're asking me "WOAH - you got your chocolate in my peanut butter! AND THEN PUT IT ON CHICKEN?!" Yup. There's a story behind that.

Many moons ago, in the heart of New Spain some no name villiage was getting a royal visitor. The village was mighty poor and didn't have anything that could be considered royal to present him with. One villager got this great idea - Royalty LOVES Chocolate! Let's add Chocolate to chicken! Mole' was born. Where the peanut butter came in is anyone's guess.

So, after Steve left. I sat down. I did something I really didn't want to do. I finished A Wish for Wings in the only way I could...in Windows Write. Windows 3.11 is a pretty stable environment. While writing that monster, I crashed more times than a drunken frat boy at a three day kegger. It took me five hours of straight typing, including HTML tags, to get that baby done. And it affected me deeply. The closer I got to the end, the harder it got to write. I didn't want to finish it. And when I did, I cried.

Thus endeth the writing career of Jennifer Dolari.

I went to sleep, and dreamed about going back in time to when I was a kid...I was getting the idea for my first story, The Polychronicon, Book One. I dreamed about telling that kid to not write it down. TO study harder in the technical field. Do ANYTHING but write, if you wanted to keep your sanity.

Needless to say, I woke up Sunday grumpy. Not to mention my hands were in pain from the typing marathon. By the time I woke up, Dad had the water pump off, and was getting ready to put the new one on. The old pump had corroded through and was shooting streams of antifreeze all over the engine.

It was durign this time I decided that maybe it's best to keep my mouth shut as well,s icne no one seems to listen to me.

One of the first things we did was bolt the water pump into the truck. I told my dad that I saw a gasket slip out. He says that it's not a problem. I double check the seal - I don't see a gasket. He tells me not to worry about it. IT's there. We go through the whole hassle of putting the truck back together and pour a nice big bottle of antifreeze into the truck. And it pours right out that seal.

They never listen to me.

At elast I saw how that all goes back together, now. While Dad's at work, I can work on the truck and get it fixed myself.

I hope.

Well, if I break it, I'll get Dad to fix it. I'll jsut keep my mouth shut next time.

Meh.

Comments

[elenderel.livejournal.com]

ya-hoo! You've managed to quote my favorite song from Phantom of the Paradise! Yay!!

*lovin' ya more than ever!*


p.s. I too mourn the loss of The Writing Jenn. :( And BTW I know exactly what you mean about relatives not paying you any mind.