Lots of stuff lately. I finished the newsletter and minor changes were made. That was good. Now I need to print a thousand of them for Friday, Ha! *Not funny ha-ha*

Wrote my first complete story. Totally horrid so I did what I saw fit. Ran the grammar and spelling check on it, reread it twice and sent it off someplace far away in cyberspace where if accepted they should pay me $20. That is OK. I am happy anyway. I finally finished a story, even one that I never thought I would write with a straight brain.

Santa Claus has said it will get me the digital camcorder I want. He just wants $200 in exchange. That also means I need to write a script for it. Even if it is a puppet play I must do something else than spend $200 on a new electronic dust gatherer.

Santos Inocentes were ecstatic with the pics taken by my friend D at their concert. They also were asking for a house to live in for a month in the western part of the island. SHIT, SHIT, SHIT! I don't have my own place. YET.

Back to work. I have my online mag and a new story in my head. This is totally cool work. Merry Christmas...

Really tired. Drinking chocolate coquito, a Puerto Rican alcoholic concoction that is high on the cinammon, the sugar, the rum and the "crijma espiri" (Christmas Spirit -that's how we pronounce it). Yummy. I have a deadine. It is called deadline because when I turn in this project I will be so dead. The deadline was Dec 15. Well, shoot me. It isn't something I particularly care about. It is just a paid desktop publishing project. Though I hate missing deadlines, even on dumb projects like these. It gives me stress, the confrontations, the desire to yell at the top of my lungs: "See if I care!!" Bah, screw it. Pass the coquito.

Went to a concert last Thursday. Santos Inocentes and Icaro Azul were the bands. It was great until a little pixie fuck pushed me into the mosh pit. There are different types of mosh pits as anyone who has gone to a Guns N' Roses vs. a Pantera concert knows. I got pushed into a Pantera-type mosh pit. Twenty burly guys throwing punches around and I was trying to hang on to someone so as not to fall. If I fell, I was dead. If some fist found my nose, I would die too. I survived, only a sprained thumb for my worries. When I got back at the pixie, she was so out of it, she enjoyed it.

Worrying myself to the ground. Worrying about things that I am powerless to change, worrying about my best friend's silence and her mailbox is full to capacity. I am terrified of calling and finding out something happened. The holidays suck as they have done ever since I was 10 when I first received clothes instead of toys. Scratching through my scalp down to my brain thinking about how cold makes some people nestle closer for the warmth. Someone else is warming him up for me.

I am a selfish nut who needs to physically and mentally restrain herself so as not to let the id run free. Always the super-ego gets what it wants. And I don't want the super-ego to win this time. So I sit beside my ego and we talk about things in circles, round and round. Ego breaks down and cries because it is friends with the three of us, but super-ego never lets id have its way. And what id wants now is the one thing it has always wanted, the one thing it has been willing to give up other things for. Now id is coming for a payback and superego is terrified of losing control. As for me: I am on my way to damnation. I already bought the plane tickets.

My friend D and I were walking down the sidewalk back to work after lunch. She is walking while reading the newspaper. She turns the page without missing a step and asks me: "What's your sign?" "Scorpio", I reply. "You know what is in store for you? Love, passion, power, many triumphs..You don't believe me?. well you will see. Stop reminding that person their own past sins and mistakes. Remember you also have your history, you aren't precisely a saint. Today's opportunity: Planning ahead." D turned to look at me after reading this and almost had to sit down on the street laughing. I have to take her word for it: apparently I had turned a bright, bright shade of red. Really funny, laughing at MY expense.

Need to be absent from work: make arrangements for a trip (I never thought my life would be a Tony Bennet song), go to the bank and sign the house loan, meet with the realtor and give her the down payment. I have $6,000 in the bank and suddenly everyone wants them, the realtor, the bank, the trip, my favorite authors, assorted friends in need of financial rescue. ARRRGGGHH!

Too sleepy. In five hours I have to get up for work. Work sucks, though now I can't just walk out because I bought a new house.

Silence interrupted, very happy to hear everything was back to abnormal. Though it is never enough. When silent, I want him to write, when writing, I want him to speak. I wonder, after all is said and done, what is the limit? Probably start all over again. Forever and ever. Dream on, girl. Remember what he said about forever.