Dear Lynn,

You signed my guestbook. The paypal thing? I’ve no idea how it happened. Did you call them? Here’s their number: 402-935-2050. That’s the paypal helpdesk.

Here’s their website: https://www.paypal.com/us/contact-phone

I don’t know you. You don’t know me. But apparently, someone in Indonesia knows both of our paypal email addresses. He/she got into my account too. Twice.          Yeah…. At least, that’s what the paypal IP tracker said on my account log.

I wish I could hack computer strongholds. You know where I’d hack into? Prolly the Hollywood databases and see what movies are being made. Second, I’d prolly hack into Marineland or Hagen, to check out new aquarium equipment. Maybe that does make me a loser. I dunno. Wouldn’t have crossed my mind to hack into something that actually had something to do with money.

 So um…. yeah…….. Sorry you had to go through that. Really sorry you had to leave such a message on my guestbook. Really really sorry that I’m going through the same thing right this very moment of thinking: Oh my fucking GOD, what the FUCK HAPPENED and what the HELL is going on with my money? Followed by calls to paypal, to my bank, to paypal again, to my bank, and finally a deep breath and thinking it’s all over then reading your message on my guestbook and going: Huh…… I wish I knew what to say.

Anyway, you should call them. Or at least call your bank. If it’s anything like Washington Mutual, they’ll have a 24 hour emergency agent ready to check out what’s going on. You should also give them my name and everything. Unfortunately, though, my email account in Yahoo has been suspended.

Did you do that? Cuz if you did, I hope you undo it at some point because I really like my yahoo name. But if you don’t, then I guess I’ll open another email account sooner or later.

So for now, I guess this is the only way to reach me – through this site. Boy, the stuff I’ve said in it. Maybe I should close it down to save myself any embarrassment.

And what you said about all the Bullshit I write – you called it “BS” – and how people shouldn’t believe it? Well, I’m thinking I might have to agree with you there. Maybe if people didn’t believe it, then it wouldn’t be true.

Because god knows I wish it wasn’t true.

I wish I’d never been taken to the hospital.
I wish I’d never been raped.
I wish I’d never tried to kill myself.
I wish I’d never fallen in love.
I wish I’d never taken the job at this petstore.
I wish I’d never started writing in this site.
I wish I’d never been told.
I wish I’d never had this tiny lump in my brain.
I wish I’d never started smoking.
I wish there wasn’t someone in jail

biding his time

waiting to kill me.

So yeah….. you should prolly call Paypal. And if they really believe I somehow hacked into your account and everything, and they really want to put me in jail, then so be it. Honestly, though, there are worse things in life.

Sincerely,
Sarah

Question:

You’re in a crowded parking lot, cruising the lanes, looking for a space. You see the rear lights of a grey pickup truck turn on and it starts to slowly back out. You stop, turn on your blinker, and wait.

Beyond the reversing truck, you see a teal car with a man and 3 other passengers pull up on the otherside facing you. The truck finishes backing out and drives away, and the teal car tries to park in the space you’ve been waiting for.

What do you do?

A. Let him have it – there’s three other people in his car.
B. Honk your horn to show your displeasure, but let him have it anyway and drive off in a huff.
C. Slam your hand on the horn and don’t let up until he stops trying to get in your spot.
D. Push on the horn until you get his attention, then motion for him to get out of your fucking spot, asshole.
E. Slam your hand on your horn, park your car, get out, and walk menacingly towards his window.

Now, what do you think Sarah would do?

It’s funny how I never proofread my entries and the typos that pop out when I read them later…..

There’s a line of poetry that keeps repeating in my head: “Heart, we will forget him; You and I, tonight.”

And this one: “If I should die, my dearest; Sing no sad songs for me, Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree….”

The urge to cut is strong in this one….. do or do not; there is no try….

Sometimes, I feel like putting my fingers through my hair and ripping my scalp open just to feel pain of a different flavor. Yes, I definately need more things to occupy my mind. Because I’m smoking too much – way too much – and my throat hurts like I’ve swallowed a hive of bees.

You’ve not come around a while. I wrote you an email, and though you promised you would always respond, you’ve not yet send a word. And though you ended your last correspondence with “I love you,” why does it seem like you don’t even care?

Moot.

So I busy myself with aquatic botany, spend hours staring at my plants, wishing I had the motivation to get high and escape for a while, but it makes me forget and it makes me sleepy, and it’s only temporary when what I want is some kind of permanent solution.

So I make plans. Like the first Saturday of October, I’ll be going somewhere great. And hopefully, but the 15th, I’ll be in Florida. And then, there will be a visit from a friend in the East Coast. And moving Mickey to San Francisco will be a bittersweet experience. And I go through moments where I want to move towards the city too, but then I feel like moving away again.

There’s a problem in that – raising a child to have retractable roots – never having a Home because youth was spent wandering. My brother has itchier feet than I, but I’ve got less morals. And no shame. What’s the difference between shame and embarassment, anyway? That’s what I thought as I went to sleep last night…..

And a man I hardly know said I’m an attention-whore. Why is that? I think it’s just because I say things that make him uncomfortable and therefore, he wishes to reflect that pain. Pay attention or don’t pay attention – makes no difference to me – I don’t care – and I think that’s what hurts people the most – the fact that I don’t care about them – especially when they see me care about others and how happy I can make other people and deep down inside they ask themselves “Why doesn’t she shine her light on me?”

You know it’s the truth. We all seek it. We all want the warmth of another’s smile; to hear the laughter bloom and know we planted it.

“What are you waiting for?” is a question I get asked a lot. Sometimes I know what the answer is. Sometimes it’s “For the year to be over.”

“Why do you keep doing it?” and my answer is “Because I’m having fun.”

Sarah’s Saturday Keyboard Confession

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been…. ummm…. dunno how long it’s been since I’ve asked for forgiveness….

1.
“So, did she do it then? Did she sleep with someone for money so she could buy expensive trinkets and eat at nice restaurants?”

“Or did she sleep with someone for money so she could see her
doctors and pay for medication and finally pay off some part of her
student loans?”

“Did she sleep with someone for money?…”

It’s like asking the “How many licks….” question. Answer: The world may never know.

But be careful – some people say it can be addictive…

2.
I went to court last Friday. The judge granted me the
restraining order. I had to deliver the final Official Restraining
Order to B while he was in jail. So back to Elmwood I went.

“I need to give this to on of your inmates.”
“Ok, we can do that
for you…. and it looks like you’ve brought the necessary 3 copies….
Ok, one question though… are you one of the named parties?”
“Yes.”
“Well, see, you need to have someone who is not on the Restraining Order deliver this to us.”
“What?!
I did this before just a few weeks ago and the officers …. the people
at court told me if he was still incarcerated that I could just bring
it here myself and it would be the jail that ‘served’ it.”
“I’m sorry ma’am, but see here where it says you have to have a third party serve the order?”
“Yes, YOU are the third party. This facility is the third party.”
“No ma’am, see, you give this to us, and we are serving it on your behalf.”
“Exactly! YOU – the SERGEANT – whoever gives this piece of paper to him IS THE THIRD PARTY.”

We argue back and forth for a bit. Then he says

“You could just get a stranger to serve it – like her,” and he points to the lady waiting in line behind me.
Frustrated,
I ask her “Would you be willing to put your name and address and phone
number and sign this saying that you don’t know me?”
She says “…. Will they be calling me?”
“No, it’s just some official paperwork stuff.”
“…. Well……… I’m really busy, and I wouldn’t be able to talk to them if they called me….”
I
turn to the officer “Are they gonna call her?” and he says “Highly
unlikely, but they might. It’s rare that they ever need to do that.”
She
still hesitates so I say “It would be like a 1 in a million chance for
them to call you…. It would be like winning the lottery kind of odds
that they’ll call you.”
“…. No, I don’t think I should…. “and she continues to sip her drink.

“Is there anyone in this room who can help me?! I just need a random
stranger to take this piece of paper and hand it to the officer.” I
yell into the jail’s waiting area. No one meets my eye. I’m not
surprised, seeing as how all these people are related to criminals and
prolly the last thing in the world they want is to sign a piece of
paper in front of an Officer.

I take a deep breath and turn towards the Officer again, but I can’t
get any words out. I can’t breathe. And I put my hand over my eyes and
try to,,,,, but the next breath ends in a shudder and suddenly tears of
frustration run down my cheeks. I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it, but I
started crying uncontrollably and slightly embarrassed, but frustrated
and angry, I say to the Officer

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I don’t mean to make a scene but it’s taken me 2 months to get this far and …..”
“We can’t do anything about it…”
“….
BUT HE’S GETTING OUT ON THE 15th AND HE’S GOING TO KILL ME AND YOU
WON’T DO WHAT YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO DO!  ……  TO PROTECT
AND SERVE. ISN’T THAT WHAT YOU DO???? PROTECT AND SERVE????” and I’m yelling at this point and people stare, but I’m crying so hard and pounding the counter with my fist.

The officer has me sit down and he makes  a few calls. After
about an hour, he finally signs off on the paper I need to mail back to
court and I walk out into the bright afternoon sun, across the desert
landscape of the parking lot.

3.
I have, more or less, accepted the fact that he could kill me
with one bullet while I’m walking across the pet store parking lot
after work one night. But I needed to get that Restraining Order
accomplished. It’s the principle of the thing. It’s like draping your
blankie across your face, an impenetrable shield against the Boogeyman
and the Dark.

4.
“Why don’t you move?”
“I don’t wanna.”
“But it would make sense to move -move where he can’t find you, so he doesn’t know where you’ll be at night.”
“I hate moving.”
“It’s dangerous….”
It’s
the principle of the thing. It’s like making a fortress out of sofa
cushions and hiding inside, knowing that as long as you stay inside,
stay smart, the Monsters outside can’t get to you.

5.
“I think you should move.”
“Move where?”
“Anywhere else than where you’re at – a block away from where he lives.”
“I like my apartment.”
“It’s dangerous….”
It’s
the principle of the thing. It’s standing up to the bully rather
continuing to give her your lunch money so she’ll let you use the
bathroom. It’s foolish, I know. But I’m damn stubborn…..

Why don’t you just ask for help? You don’t need to do this alone, you know.
“I do – ask for help.”
And?….
“And it’s sad to see who steps up to bat for me.”
I’m sorry to hear that.
“Well, people have their own lives to live and yadda yadda yadda.”
I admire your courage.
“I do too…..”

Due to the nature of my extreme mole-sightedness, my glasses have been delayed. In addition, per the suggestion of Beau, the company will be creating curtom clip-on polarized sunglasses, which they will make today. Therefore, I shall not have my new glasses until the middle of next week.

Burberry, btw. Cuz damn they’re sexy……

“Ok, ok, I’ve narrowed it down to three choices. What do you think of this one?”
“……. Ummm….. Have you ever seen the movie Falling Down?”
“You’re such a Mean Bean. How about this one?”
“Librarian.”
“Ok, what about this one?”
“…….. Sexy librarian.”

Last night, I tore my room apart looking for the ticket.

And it’s true. When you meet people, they like the way you are when you’re manic, and hate to be with you when you’re depressed. But like I always sez, challenges reveal the true character of a person.

I’m going to Monterey Bay Aquarium with Mickey and his parents today!!! It’s ok to be jealous. I’m the happiest person in the world right now.

I will order the glasses on Tuesday, since tomorrow the post office is closed.

I’m leaning towards……

Mickey, are we flying or driving down to Monterey tomorrow?

Ooooooohhhh…… jellyfish………….

So I went to the eye doctor and she basically told me I have to quit wearing contacts for about a year due to blood vessels atrophying in my eyeballs because I haven’t been able to replace my current contacts for a little over 1 year now.

And on top of that, I have very, very poor eyesight so I have to get super lens, which would mean the thick coke-bottle bottom lens – think Emma Thompson in the Harry Potter movies – unless I get the super duper type poly-something lens.

And I’m gonna go with plastic frames this time seeing as how I have movie narcolepsy and fall asleep with my glasses on all the time.

“If I wear glasses, people aren’t give me free stuff anymore!!!!”  

So, which one should I get:

1.  Burberry

2.  Dolce Gabanna

3.  Armani (I like red, but maybe this one in black?)

4.  Armani

5.  Yves St. Laurent

6.  YSL red

Sunday afternoon, right after work, I sped home, then drove to Milpitas. Objective: get the restraining order to B in Elmwood Jail by the deadline.

The sad thing is, I could have done that earlier had I known that he was still in jail. And all this time I’ve been thinking he was out already and had just realized that it would be foolish to keep harassing me, but no. He’s been in jail this entire time. How did I find out? Through a friend of a friend of his that said something to a coworker who happened to repeat it to my animal manager who coincidentally brought it up that morning.

So I get to Elmwood.

“Excuse me, ma’am, did you have a question?”
“Yes, I um…. I need to get this restraining order to someone here.”
“Ok, we can do that for you. Did you bring all three copies?”
“What?”
“We need three copies.”
“No one told me…. I wasn’t notified….. three copies???”
“Yes, we need three copies. There’s a Kinko’s across the way and you can just bring them back and we’ll take care of the rest.”

Across the way meant across the highway, 5 blocks, and through a pretzel intersection.

“Hi, can I help you…. oh, wait, you’re the one that wanted us to give someone here a restraining order.”
“Yeah.”
“Ok, do you know his booking number?”
“Booking number?????”

“Go over to that table and look him up by his last name, first name, and birthdate.”

My finger slides down the list of names and finds his, goes across the columns, there’s the booking number, and a blank space under release date.

“Ok, now we just have to check if he’s still here or if transferred him somewhere.”

5 phone calls.

“Ok, now I just have to wait for the sergeant to come and sign off on this.”

I am tired of hearing people say to me “I’m sorry, I thought you knew.”

I rest my head on the stiff chair beside me and close my eyes. I fall asleep in the waiting room of Elmwood jail to the sounds of  babies crying, the whirring of a fan, soft female voices speaking in spanish.

1 hour later, the sergeant comes and signs the paper I need to bring to court this friday.

I walk out into the afternoon sun, blinking back sleep and fatigue. I drive onto the highway and make my way to Albany. I get lost again, but this time it only takes me 2 hours to find the place.

“That’s a marvelous plant” – I talk like that, I really do – you know, say “marvelous” and shit.
“Which one?”
“The burning orange one…… I don’t suppose your boss would be too happy if you sold it to me.” Because it’s in a big display tank that is clearly marked “Plants not for sale”
The man shakes his head no, but smiles a little “The boss would not like it.” His fingers expertly twist a rubberband onto a half-inflated bag full of plant cuttings. I lean against the tank behind me, watching the roslind sharks chase each other across my view.
“How badly do you want it?” he asks suddenly. Surprised, it takes a moment for me to ask “You mean, name my price?”
He’s silent, still wrapping rubberbands around the closed necks of plastic bags.
“How badly do you want it?” he asks again.
“I’d be ever so grateful.” – I really said that.
He turns around without another word. Quickly he checks to make sure no one is nearby but we’re alone in the humid alcove. He turns the tank light off and climbs onto a stepstool.
“Which one do you want?”
“One from the back. Pick me out a good one. …. I trust you.”
He plunges his slender, sunburned arm into the water and gently uproots a towering specimen. He extracts his arm, the long tendrils of roots trailing in the water.

“Last time I was here, I drove 6 hours from home.”
“Where do you live?”
“Sunnyvale.”
He chuckles…… “6 hours?”
“Yeah, and today, it took me 2 hours.”
“At least you’re making progress.”
“From 6 to 2 hours. Worth the drive, I say. This store has the best selection in the whole Bay Area – you make sure and tell your boss that – that someone drove 6 hours to get here.”
“He’ll think that’s funny.”
“I do to, but I still drove 6 hours to get here. Which is why I think you should give me a discount.”
“I was going to anyway.”

I give him a little money. He hands me a paper bag full of goodies. We walk away, each feeling we’d gotten the better part of the bargain.

Some things are free if you want them badly enough.

But you have to be brave enough to ask.