Well, I know what I know now.  I am going to talk about my life with Tina and John.  I am mad at Them, esp. Tina, and to john for taking advantage of me and my trust.  Maybe I can make Tina and John in the same school with me at Biola.

Tina and I knew each other since before seventh grade started.  My first impression was that she dressed horribly in a faded hawaiian shirt, flat hair that went behind her ears, and Sue Mill shorts which go down to your knee.  And dirty old tennis shoes.  I didnt have fashion sense either and nobody complimented my clothes in those days.  I dressed like a retard too.  But at least I wouldnt wear shorts that go down to my knee that are unisex.  I had cute clothes at least one had a japanese duck on it that I got from a friend of my grandma’s who said he loved me in a letter.  They also gave me dolls in glass boxes but my grandpa always stole them since we had no room in our home.  Or at least we didnt care for asian stuff.  My house was ruled by my dad who is Japanese too but he has ultimately white san diego californian taste.  My grandma’s house on the other hand was full of japanese stuff.  I can’t stand it. 

I consider myself white because I always sided with my German Irish Scottish dad, and my mom and grandpa dont even know japanese although they were full oriental.  I always wanted to go to the mainland as they call the states in Hawaii.  I wanted to be with white people.  I wasnt attracted to asians and the island was full of them.  Tina was chinese.  she was proud of that fact, but im a proud american who may have a samurai in my background but i dont pride myself in that.  I think that may be why i am good at sports, or NOT.  But she was bad at softball.  I played it in seventh grade and then my two closest friends besides my best friend, played softball in eighth grade with me.  I won small school state champs for both middleschool years.  Then freshman year I made varsity and they didnt.  I was way better than them.  I used to be a pitcher and MVP in sixth grade.  Then i started playing volleyball and they both tried out for that and didnt even make the Junior varsity team.

Anyway, now we are talking about Tina NOW.  She is getting married this month, and to a cute boy but who is not a christian.  I would think she’d prioritize her faith especially since her family and mine gave us christian backgrounds and the general rule is to marry a christian so you wont have problems.  He is cute, but not as handsome as my husband would be.  And they both work at a wedding photography place which is lame.  Actually i think id be good at picking out photos for a wedding magazine but i dont think thats what they do.  They probably stuff envelopes, or at least I hope they do.  She is prideful to me…making fun of how I am living with my family at that time despite my telling her long before that I am schizophrenic and can’t work.  That last fact doesnt seem to sink in anyone’s head…even my family’s.  I say I am a writer to them, or at least am working on it so i CAN be oneday a decent one at least, but truly i do not wish to be published.  It might be nice but that is not why i write.  I want to master my writing the way I desire it to be…no one else’s.  No market and no family or house manager friend who wants to read my works but i dont let her.  WHY?  Bc i write about them.  I already seen the results of what reading my stuff would do to people. 

When I was living under my grandparents’ roof, i was using their computer once and went on myspace and wrote in my blog or checked my viewers or something, and they tracked my activities and found my blog and read it and found i wrote things about them that didnt favor them too well.  SO they banned me from the Internet.  I was so pissed.  I had 600 viewers a week back then and today I have 2 because they left during this time i was banned.  I was so angry with them so blogging about it to my friendly strangers was my only outlet, and NOW what was i to do because I dont want to burst out at my grandparents for saying stupid things like I was the reason why my parents might get a divorce.  And the worst part is i slightly believe it now despite my mom saying its not my fault.  So because i was not going to fight with them or mouth off like i usually do to get out my anger at my parents, i kept it inside and couldnt blog about it, so i grew so frustrated that i would cry and get very depressed because i was so angry and couldnt do anything about it…and i ended up seeing my psychologist.  And then it wasnt enough so i started seeing her two times a week.  Once i moved out to a board and care with my family gone from my sight, i ended up not even needing to go to the psychologist anymore!  That’s how abusive my family can be.

Anyway, more important than this is my obsession with John that i need to get over.  First off i dont think he is a good christian.  Second i just dont know him at all but he pisses me off for calling me a fool in class although he slightly apologized for that when i wrote him an email a year afterward once i moved colleges, and he said people may do foolish things but nobody should be called Fool.  Was saying Heaven is boring because you always want more, really a foolish thing to say?  I think not.  It is from experience that that saying of mine was born.  The experience of getting what you work hard for only to find that is not a gift at all bc well you earned it and worked hard for it so what’s the big deal?  what’s the surprise?  how is this even a gift if it wasnt given freely to me?  Nothing is worth my work was my attitude.  I worked anyway…at jack in the box.  Totally ruined my impression of work.  Also, growing up i hated doing chores only bc i decided i hated my mom since she spanked me too much.  she said she shouldve spanked me more but shes just psycho like my dad who threw me into walls.  Nobody likes talking about these things, at least I never bring it up to the rest of the family or even my friends.  Only bloggers and other strangers.

I would cut my Dad and grandparents off completely if it wasnt for the hundred i get every month from Dad now days, and the two hundred a year i get from my grandparents for christmas and my birthday.  Very bad reason and almost not good enough of a reason to be nice to them.  But I enjoy the fruits of my being nice and good and sweet or whatever as much as possible to them for they not only give me money, but well, i guess for no other reason.  I was going to say theyre nice to me but not only did they ignore me completely last christmas (im not going this year to their house bc of that) my grandpa is still sarcastic like he drove me crazy with when i lived with him.  “Good morning” hed say when it is already night time when i finally come out of my room.  There is nothing else to do at their house, and so id stay in my room to write, and then hed say that.  The first couple of times it was funny, afterward when he started saying it every day i started thinking he is just being an asshole.  Dad slapping me in the face or shoving me throughout my early adulthood i will never get over.  When my mom or dad get angry at the wheel of their car and im in the passengers seat, i always expect them to hit me in the face because thats what they would do growing up when theyre mad at me.  I get scared when theyre mad and try to stay away from them bc theyre psycho and abusive.  I was in love with Scott when i found out how much of a gentleman he was when he said he would never DREAM of even hitting one of his children and that it’s not normal and is very unhealthy.  I wish it wasnt normal for me.  I still get jealous of people who dont get spankings growing up.  It makes me want to cry.

But I had a mixed childhood of abuse, but also of great sports memories where my mom was team mom and dad was coach of my softball team.  i had great support for my sports until senior year when i wanted to play competitive highschool softball for the last time and mom said “Did i TELL you you could play?”  No but why should that matter?  But then i think well i cant take the bus home really late at night anyway bc im scared, so shed be my ride, and well she wont.  Fuck it.  I wish i did it anyway.  But i sucked at try outs although they were going to let me play anyway bc they knew id end up being good again.  Plus the coach saw me play my freshman year on varsity with his daughter before she introduced me to volleyball which i ended up playing instead.

About John, why do i love him?  I dont.  I have good memories because id LIKE to believe in the good and inspiration of People greater than me, like mentors.  But really nobody deserves that respect.  I should get it out of my head.  I miss the naive joy of believing in God or in Mentors, but now it perished forever and makes me want to cry in the midst of my apathy for the Present since ive felt passionate before.  But now Ive found passion again.  In writing.

My journaling is the best thing ive done for myself.  I dont care if nobody else understands it.  Or hates it.  Or thinks im wasting my time.  Because theyre fuckers.  I am not going to pressure myself to write anything Good for mr handsome man at writing group, or handsome writing prof at writing group or any of the other friendly writing group peers i have.  No, because i dont write for them and i dont even need to GO to the group anymore.  Im doing it for Megan my psychologist.  Not for me.  If it were up to me id stay in my room the entire time.  I dont want to grow attached to any group or anybody.  No christian, no mentor, no peers-NO ONE.

And now it is time to write something special FOR ME.  I do want to “try harder”though.  I do want to BELIEVE i am holding back, and that my poor work can get better if i only tried harder.  But i actually dont think thats true!  I think he was flirting.  Not saying the truth, except that i am intriguing like paul said he was, and i am complex and convoluted and he says i have a good vocabulary which is funny because i never liked memorizing vocabulary words…or memorizing in general.  I dont believe i am a good enough writer and perhaps never will be.  But i damn well better be better than most by the time i finish twenty more years of writing!