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not only a psycho, she's my friend!...
first is that last week Tracy mentioned doing another guest entry. Since
the last one she wrote got nominated
for a diarist.net award
(we should know today whether it won or not), I'm sure not going to
tell her not to write one. I mean, if she wants to write all
my entries from now on and just let the diarist.net people back a U-Haul
up to my house full of trophies, who am I to argue?
timing, coincidentally, ended up that I'm posting her guest entry today,
on her birthday. So happy birthday, Tracy. I wish you'd hurry up and
get your own site up soon, so you can win your own damn awards already.
after a very trying and emotional day at work (more on that Friday if
I'm allowed to talk about it by then) I came home to a very bulky, eight-page
handwritten letter from her. The tone was sad, but it made me happy
to read. It took me back to the days when we exchanged these kinds of
letters regularly. It warmed me to see her words in teal ink instead
of black text on a screen.
the most remarkable thing, I think. That 11 years after we met, her
words still challenge me and make me want to know more. I want Tracy
to write. I want her to write every day.
here she is. Treat her good. (By the way. She is neither fictional nor
dying of leukemia
[that we know of]. Just thought you'd like to know.)
it's me, Tracy again. You
remember me, right? Omar's friend? The one he lets write his journal
sometimes? Good. Hate to think I hadn't made an impression.
yeah, I was chatting with Omar on the AIM today and I told him
he should write a Happy about crazed obsessive psycho bitch stalker
mean how Brooke
Burke is all up in my face and wanting to get with me? Not
that that's true or anything. In fact, I just made myself very
sad. Damn. -- Omar]
and he said that's a great idea, why don't you do it? And I said,
why? Why do you want me to do it, are you trying to say something?
And he said, yeah beeyotch, wanna make something of it and I said,
why the nerve of you, I'll tae kwon do your butt up and down the
Rio Grande (that's near Austin, right?) and he said...
I made some of it up, but the point is I think Omar asked me to
do this as some sort of mental health exercise, because he's worried
about me. Always looking out for my mental health, Omar
is. One day I'll have to tell y'all the story of how he called
me in a psych hospital once and the little gang-banger kid who
answered the phone came and got me out of the shower and I was
so excited it was Omie that I just put on my overalls with no
underwear on and all the other nut jobs were like "Hey, you
aren't wearing any underwear?"
And I was like, "Go take your lithium you bipolar
Tracy is not Courtney Love. I
mean, not yet, at least..
guess I already told the whole story. Um, one day I'll tell you
the story of how Omie and I met. Makes him look really bad though,
so I'll have to wait until my site is up (Any day now!
I'm serious this time!
I know I've been saying that, but I lost my domain and
server space in the divorce. I'm not making this up. The ex also got my paella
pan like he even knows that you gotta make paella with
Valencia, not Arborio rice. He just took it to be spiteful, yes he did.)
I digress... We were talking about crazed obsessive psycho bitch
stalkers and why Omar thought I might be the person to write about
them... Well, I have a
confession to make... I, Tracy, am a crazed obsessive psycho bitch
true... I'm so ashamed but I just can't stop myself.
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