I sat staring at the clock for two hours, then I decided it was time to get up, deal with my things finally, get my Ebay packed up and ready to roll, as well as wet my appetite for the write splatter.

My cramps have come back to kick me in the ass again. How lovely it is to be a girl. My living room has turned into a candy graveyard, wrappers littering every open clean space. I molest Francis, who comes in ALWAYS like a bright light of happiness, giggling and happy. I swear to god my face has not hurt so much from laughing like this for months. Many months. When we were younger and we would hang out and meet up with people, they would rarely know what to do. Stunted by the energy, the laughing Francises, paranoid that somehow there was a joke on them. But no, we just rock the way we rock, and have a way of communicating without opening our mouths, without making a sound.

I realized something after talking to Candy and her girl yesterday about various shenanigans. I am happy they are together, happy Candy and her love have found each other in what has become an increasingly hostile world. At first I was angry, having had the criticism on my grammar control come from a familiar camp, and I spouted some retort. Then I realized she was there to point something out, something I knew already but didn’t care enough to defend myself on rounds of attack before. No, I made it more personal. Regardless, I think they both rule, and I am happy to have miss Candy be my pal, valiant in her efforts always.

And my friend, Mr. D, the holder of optimistic and intelligent advice, as well as points made by F, for me. They too have a happy warm place in my life. Mr. D for saying “you have always broken the rules, but I know you, and you write like you”, and F for pointing out the obvious. Craigslist was a nice experiment. I just didn’t think it was going to be like inviting the vultures to come feast on your soul and intent as soon as your pants were dropped.

My journal is that for me. A place to vomit and purge my ideas and ideals out on. Stream of consciousness, verb-tense abuses, misshapen and misplaced clauses, intentional spelling misnomers, and prepositional abuses; it is all mine. Essay writing? Yeah, grammar comes into place. Good thing I rarely write essays with that intent or purpose.