Liz (coconuts_r_us) wrote,
Liz
coconuts_r_us

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So this has been an interesting few weeks.

Went to see Pirates 3. Thought it sucked.

Um, my grandma's house sold. I got my car out yesterday, it's being fixed. I have all of my things out of the car now too, but my old DS, along with Phoenix Wright, is gone. At least I have clothes now. Still can't drive the car, not until August. Now we start on this house.

Dance Etc. still hasn't contacted me on dance classes. Go figure.

No one seems to call me back. Sort of disheartening, but. . . what can you do.

I'm getting contacts tomorrow.

I'm going to start swimming again.

Yesterday at work [I wasn't there], a man who could easily be my father and who was obsessed with me, was fired. He, apparently, began to threaten everyone.

I come into work today, and get pulled into the owner's office. He threatened to kill my boss, and the owner was afraid the man would kidnap me. So the entire building was on lockdown, I had to talk to a lot of people, I have to file a report tomorrow, and the building now has a restraining order against this man.

. . .

I'm also training a new girl at work, Raquel. Maybe I'll have a new friend? I dunno.

Things only seem to be getting worse here. Nothing good ever comes out of anything for me anymore. I'm finding it harder and harder to go on as the days pass, but there has to be a light at the end of the tunnel someday, right? Yeah. Sure.

. . .Whatever.

I want to try out for So You Think You Can Dance? next year. I'll fail hardcore, but, you never know. Might as well try, right? The song I'm going to try out to is a remix of the song 'Hurt', by Christina Aguilera. It reminds me of my grandmother, ergo, I will be dedicating it to her.

The pain inside from her loss is getting worse, too. Yesterday, the real estate agent wanted my asshole sister in law and I to go into the house, but I refused, and Crystal did, too. It was hard enough being in the garage -- I even had to drive grandma's power chair outside. It was really, really sad.

It's already been eight months since grandma's been gone. Well, almost eight months -- on the twelveth of July. I don't think I'm ever going to get over this.

I don't sleep much anymore. Big whoop. The Taco Man at Taco Bell is also creeping me out a lot. Everything is, really. Well. . . regardless.

. . .Not that any of this matters. No one ever reads it, anyways.
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