We looked at another property this weekend.

It was a bit of a disaster, had two trailer houses abandoned, full of junk, and feral cats (behind the house, and in the woods), as well as junk all over in the long grass, and buildings that appeared to all needing removing.

There were no strong positive feelings for the property, except for the three very nice, very lush, apple trees, and the fact that it’s 38.5 acres. The house…is indescribable…we couldn’t live in any part of it while it’s being fixed, given the season (fall/winter)…

It is from here on known as Option #3. The Horror House.

So, we have Weeping Willow, The Fox Property, and The Horror House.

Two weeks, roughly, Weeping Willow is due for another price drop (providing it’s not already sold…when we stopped by to check in there were two people [no agent] out walking the property) at which point we pounce with an offer…our last offer. If we can’t work out a deal with the bank on that one then we’ll put an offer on The Fox Property. Hopefully that will go well. If it doesn’t…option three comes into play…and a whole lot of tears and disappointment.

We’re supposed to be out of The Mother’s house by mid-October, which is fair…minus the four months we spent in England the start of the year we’ve been here since mid-October last year.

We’re trying to stay positive, and extra so for James because to be positive is not in his nature. It’s not in some of ours either. We need to be positive, yet realistic.

The stress is on. The fingers are crossed. 

We need a house in a basket.

In high school there was a girl named Jenny. She seemed sorta new, even though we were new too (for us, ninth grade, new city, new school), she didn’t really talk to that many people, she had very few friends, she was part of the group of people we hung with. She dissappeared during high school, after only a year or so, but for some reason we remember her. She was odd. She would sit in the bleachers during gym class, sometimes, and look off into space, smiling…she seemed weird.

We understand her far better now that we can explain.
We wish we would have gotten to know her better.

“Nothing is rational, bitch about it and move on.
That’s called coping, right?…”

Our latest Tweet…but we’re thinking…it should be a tagline for one of our blogs….except sometimes we drag those bitches out…but maybe it should.

Also, we’re ginned up.

Sometimes we wish we could un-dissociate ourselves at will.

Whatever goes on; we’re in here, they’re out there…we don’t even know how.

Turns out ten years without family really…makes for…OUR inability to connect, at least over half of the time.

The desire to connect is even so faint, so not-even-there…it hurts, but doesn’t…feels…empty. Uncomfortably gone.

Is it rational that it makes my stomach turn to be put in a list on Twitter called “Multiples Like Me”.

Look, if we wanted to be defined that way, particularly on Twitter, we’d slap #DID or some shit in our bio, like all the others that think that is somehow a defining characteristic of who “they” are (just like anyone who throws any laundry list of “mental disorders” in their bio).

We use “we” and “us” for our benefit, because it’s how we feel comfortable expressing ourselves. It didn’t start with any conscious reason, so we just kept with the very comfortable feeling it gave us.

Irrational to not want to be defined?

We, I specifically, don’t want to be defined by our “disorder”, just like most don’t want to be defined by their physical appearance (you know, except the “attractive” people).

No, not you really…US!

We had to “come out” to James’ immigration lawyer today. No specifics given, but she needed to know, we’re filing the remainder of the paperwork on Monday, and then off to the government it goes. Then the wait. Then the interviews.

James breached the subject of blogs, but his blogs, not ours. Then we, James, us, had to explain why we were not willing to share personal correspondences, since the start of our relationship, with the government. Private e-mails, exposing our mental illness to the government.

We came out with our mental illnesses, but not DID/MPD…we went as far to state the (mis)-diagnoses of the social anxiety disorder, the bipolar disorder, the severe depression, the schizophrenia, all on OUR permanent record, if the government chose to look into it, that’s what they’d find. So we felt it should be addressed.

She was very kind about it, and actually thought it touching and wonderful, the love James has for us “despite the mental illness”. She said it may help our case, if we chose to disclose it. For obvious reasons we said we did not want to do that.

But yeah, coming out, while not completely, to a near stranger…that’s a fun day, right? She thanked us for sharing it, as we, only semi-shamefully, walked out the door.

James is having to take down some pieces off of his blog, and certainly anything linking him with ours, because while they are certain to do an internet search on him, they won’t find anything on us purely by our legal name.

She did say that they probably know who “I” am, given the nature of things we write about on our main blog (government, freedom, etc.) Making us think we’re on some kind of list (yay, for paranoia!)

Fingers crossed, that exercising our freedom doesn’t come back to bite us in the ass.

We haven’t had our rabies shot.

Re: The 2012 drought and the econmic crisis of the United States

“It’s the Dust Bowl and Great Depression of the 30’s, re-wrapped and gifted, as we retreat into the warped, close-minded ideals of the same decade, with the knowledge and technological advancement of the 21st century withering at our feet.” ~ Frank et al [on Facebook, to Sheep King (a.k.a @1stCitizenKane on Twitter)]

Why we do this “series” on Tumblr: because otherwise we’d lose some of the things we may want to put into pieces we write on our other blog. Also, because we fucking can.

We write everyday, sometimes it’s about fishing, sometimes it’s about world news, sometimes it’s whatever the fuck from our fucked up brain.

Here, there, everywhere…sometimes more than once, in more than one place, nearly every day…because we fucking can. 

We fucking can.

“Like a pile of puppies clambering for the limited space at a teat, the ones at the bottom get crushed, but who cares, as long as the puppies at the top get theirs.” (our analogy on American freedom)

“There is no equality in the face of the grandest of lies.” (our comment on why lying, if you are media, or in high power, should be against the law)

Shit we wrote on Facebook today (one turned into a Tweet). This serves for our memory and retreval, since we don’t want to do another blog post on Blogger just for a few lines.

Tumbr, be our whore.

Oh, and so the FCC says the news can lie about anything? But GOD FORBID you say “Fuck”, or “Cunt” during the wrong hours of the day, that would be wrong, but you can be a lying fucking cunt., it’s all good.

For more read our blog entry today:  

FACT: It Is Not Illegal to Falsify News or Lie http://just-call-me-frank.blogspot.com/2012/06/fact-it-is-not-illegal-to-falsify-news.html

Holy fucking shit, the more you follow the more you want to jab pencils in your eyes and yell…

“WE KNOW THAT’S THE LINES FROM A SONG!”

“WE SAW THAT ON FACEBOOK AS A CARD/IMAGE!”

“THAT’S A FAMOUS QUOTE WITH NO NAME”

“YOU STOLE THAT AND IT’S NOT EVEN GOOD!”

…not to mention…

“DO YOU READ YOUR OWN TWEETS? DO YOU NOTICE THAT DRY FUCKING CRACKER TASTE? THAT IS YOUR BORING-ASS, POORLY-CONSTRUCTED, LAME FUCKING TWEET!”

(or instead of pencils, as James would say, remove the focus from self-harm, and stab THEM in the fucking eye…[if only it were that easy])

We may not be able to handle it anymore, we may have to unfollow active users (which we do not generally do) and people who RT that shit into our TL.

If you’re going to kiss ass, at least make it GOOD ass.

That is all. Rant fucking over.