

"I must go on standing,
You can't break that which isn't yours.
I must go on standing,
I'm not my own, it's not my choice."


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Has it only been four months? It felt like so much longer since I waved goodbye.
I suppose I should start this with a big hug to any of you still here. I've missed dA. Well, that's not entirely true. Sometimes I missed it and sometimes I didn't think too much about it. Most of you linger on the other sites I visit as well, so I wasn't really leaving much behind.
Now for a small update.
I'm no longer making buckets. Well, not all the time. I finally got moved off of the molding machines and now I am working on the floor, which means more freedom and I don't have to be moving around constantly. Oh, and my hands don't bleed all the time anymore.

However, my arms and legs look like giant bruises and I have no idea how the hell that's happening. Working on the floor is relatively easy. But since our production manager passed away, the work on the machines is getting harder and harder. Lifting boxes of "xtreme duty" 20x8 buckets over my head is a bitch.
Of course, it doesn't help that I spent all of last weekend lifting furniture up and down flights of stairs.
That's right, we moved.

We now live in a lovely 1bed-1bath apartment with a loft and a fireplace. I'll be posting some pictures on my myspace now that we finally have the phone and internet hooked up here.

And I finally have a real bed to sleep on! It was such a relief after having slept for three years on the barely-there mattress from a pullout couch, which was set directly on the floor because the frame was broken. I was so tired of springs puncturing my lungs in the night.
I also turned 21 this month. It was stressful at the time. Most of you know how I felt about alcohol, how excessively opposed to it I was. But I've come to realize that my obsession with it was probably about as unhealthy as being an alcoholic, just in a different way. I let it control my life, let it make me depressed and angry and anxious.
I didn't drink on my 21st. But I have had a couple of foofoo beers since, and my worries about ending up like my father shouldn't have been worries. I am a completely different person, who happens to just not like the taste of alcohol very much, as it turns out.

Anyway, after lunch we're going over to Jon's parents house to do more cleaning, so I better go. But I'm going to leave you guys with a brand new poem.

[Rant Ended]

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~Clubs~



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~My Favorite Stock Goddesses~




