I’m better at writing in the blog at the computer, so I’m writing from my pc keyboard. What was I thinking of posting WordPress stuff from my phone? At least it works, but I’d like to mediate comments from my phone, if possible. Blake is sitting there, being a weirdo. He’s a sweet thing, and he always has. I talked to some communications people at a very important organization that fights on behalf of civil liberty in America, and they got some info about the guardianship issues I’ve faced, the work adjustment being over I was able to talk. Now, I’m out of energy, done, low, down, blah. I can’t think for once that I’m gonna wake up. I’m a night owl, and I better darn right be ready to wake up at like seven because Melaina, my lady, is coming to do the housework again. I got sick, and so the sick stuff is supposed to be cleaned up, and I’m not sure about mopping the floor again. I’m so sick of being sick, so I’m gonna have to make a better effort to cook more. Yeah, I should cook more and longer. Coud it have been the lasagna? Or could it have been the stomach viruses that inhabited the very dark reaches of food supplies? Ewwwww. I’m done with being sick.
Meanwhile, in other news, the Terrorists are bombing Iraq in the use of American tanks and so on. Oh my God, we made a pretty bad decision. Why do Muslims expect us to convert to Islam? I did that, and it was the worst decision of my whole life, and that’s because Deq, the only thing in the whole world I would trust within the faith, strayed and talked trash about Americans sometimes, thinking some people actually believed that Americans were bad news. Um, we Americans believe people should be free to marry whomever they choose. Deq, of c ourse, I was afraid he’d be given a Muslim daughter of Somali origin. Of course, the brothers and their bad attitude about blindness with regards to marriage didn’t help at all. Deq is blind, but he has a brain. Blind people all have brains, but face this fact, I will not, and will not ever marry a Muslim guy who thinks his main aim is to take care of a poor pitiful blind woman. Sorry, but that’s the main reason for my leaving. Yes, it may sound like I’m a bad believer, but I can’t believe a religion whose followers don’t tolerate blind women marrying blind men. Sighted people are worse than gum on the bottom of my shoe when it comes to their atrtitudes about blindness. Blake, realizing that he and I could make something happen, made it happen, but marriage is on hold because of one solitary word: tragedy. People aren’t getting that blindness is contributing in some poor way to Blake’s infantilization, and I’m not one to discuss further what happened. Only one thing remains: How am I going to marry Blake? Christine, his dear aunt, is lost and needs a prayer or two. She’s neglected her Catholicism, which she’d practiced for years till she married Blake’s mother’s brother. Christine thought I was disrespectful and made us stay apart. I have a few words for you, lady, “Do you think that’s appropriate to do that just because I’m handicapped? Think before you act and call Blake or Cathy on this. I want to see Blake. I will never stop till Blake is in my arms, till Blake is forever with me, in union, in a convenant called marriage which we will make before our Creator, who endowed us, like it or not, with certain inalienable rights.” I mean it. Those are my words. I’m not taking them back. I swear to God, there’s nothing you can do to break me and Blake up. IF that’s your goal, well, you didn’t succeed, and will never succeed. I’ve had it to the brim with guys breaking my heart, leaving me for blindness reasons or because of guardianship. You encouraged Cathy to infantilize Blake, and this is what you will have to do: go back to God. Pray about this, read the Bible, go back to your Creator. He’s waiting to accept you back with open arms. You are a lost woman, I’m afraid to say it, you are lost as usual, not getting the point. I innocently spoke of a covenant that God rendered years ago, and you tried to destroy us. So take this: let me see Blake, not destroy us. Do not tell anyone that I am not the right person for Blake. I want to see him, and he’s the only thing I want. I want someone blind, understanding, strong, etc. Jobs are filth and a fleshly requirement that Blake and I are likely not to have in this bad economy. So there. Just pray. God will show you the way.
As if anyone could ever say no, my dad texted me this morning. He says, “Have a good day.” Oh, ok. I wrote, “I will.” Thank God, the dictation works. I love voice input. It’s a breee for me.