And then there was me.(9/15/00)
I'm 26 years old, and I work for a semiconductor manufacturing company. My five-year anniversary is coming up. I get a watch!
Jealous? You should be.
However, my job at AcronymCo is a very small part of what makes me me. The rest of it is taken up by writing, photography, home improvement projects, reading, going to school, COOKING (that's a biggie), and being part of a family for really the first time in my life.
Plus putting my life on the web (with pictures!) for all the world to see.
I was born in Maine in 1974. Three years after that auspicious event my parents divorced. My father was pretty effectively erased from the picture. I still don't know why they split up, but I do know that for the 19 years of my life that I lived in Maine, he lived in the same town and never tried to get in contact. To this day I wouldn't know him if I fell over him.
My mother had a daughter from a previous relationship, my 1/2 sister Susan. Susan lived with my Mom and me in a suburban town in Maine (is that an oxymoron?) until she was seventeen or eighteen, and then she moved in with her boyfriend.
Right around that time my mother started visiting the hospital a great deal. She had a faulty aorta, which she had been dealing with since her childhood. She died when I was eight, as she was being operated on. She had had an aluminum valve placed in her heart - very experimental surgery for that time. They were in the process of replacing it when she passed away.
My Grandmother lived with me until I finished third grade, then moved me to her home the next town over. I had spent most weekends with her since I was a baby, and was fast friends with the children who lived next door.
Remind me to tell you about Brad.
My Grandmother deserves a section of her own. Which I'll do. She is a wonderful lady, and took me in at a time of her life when she should have been enjoying her retirement. She still lives in Maine, and is suffering from the effects of her advanced age, and I miss her terribly. But (as anyone who knows me can tell you) she did a bang-up job in raising me. To her I credit my ability to cook, my desire (nay, quest!) for neatness, and my sense of humor. I wish I could also credit my ability to garden, but everything I grow dies a horrible death. Sorry, Grammy!
I went through a stint of being a Jehovah's Witness with her (oh, boy, there's another epic entry! Look at 'em all coming out of the woodwork!). Through which I met He Who Was To Become X(m). I was fifteen when I met him. He was, for all intents and purposes, my first boyfriend (the boy in fifth grade doesn't really count). I was enamored, I was horny, and JW protocol dictated that One Only Dates With The Intent To Marry.
So we did. When I was seventeen, and he was 20. And to this day I'm pretty sure his parents don't know that we engaged in premarital sex. Heh. It speaks volumes of X(m)'s attitude toward marriage that the best thing about it for him was the fact that, because of my age, my Grandmother had to sign Legal Guardianship over to him. "I can take away your license! I can ground you!" Oh, boy.
I'm not going to go into a lot of detail here. Suffice to say the wedding was more for my mother-in-law than for me. Or us. Or whatever. Nobody in the wedding party could even drink, forcryingoutloud.
We stayed in Maine for another two years. I would work, he would dream. He held two paying jobs (for beyond two weeks) in our entire relationship. One lasted for a year and a half. The other lasted for a year. There were starts and stops in between, and even a job that he spent 60 hours a week at (for several months) and didn't get paid for. He'd be paid when the company "took off". Yeah, right.
Anyway, soon after our two year anniversary (and remind me to tell you about how we spent our first one) we packed all of our belongings in the back of a pickup truck, hitched our car behind that, and moved to The Valley. 3000 miles. Six days of driving. No money. No job. Moving in with his sister temporarily.
I got a job with a temp company right away, which turned into a permanent one at AcronymCo, and we got in on a no-qualify, assumable home. Less than a year after moving to The Valley, we were home owners. Not too shabby.
The long and short of my relationship with X(m) - I got tired of his lack of motivation, his neglect of our relationship, and his cheating. Not to mention his verbal abuse and, toward the end, his physical abuse. So, after 5 1/2 years of marriage, I left, and stayed with friends for a while. After moved in with his sister, I reclaimed the house. We were divorced a year and a month later. He calls every six months or so, to tell me how "great" his life is (jobless, living with five other guys in a studio apartment, "programming" while barefoot on the beach in California) and to basically give me shit. It's a source of great amusement for Calvin and me.
Speaking of which...
Calvin and I both worked at AcronymCo (he doesn't any longer), and he became a very good friend. He was very supportive of me during my life with X(m). And when we broke up, he was a very bolstering presence. He had his own relationship with its own problems as well, and we became each other's support group. I suppose the inevitable happened, because after the demise of his relationship we turned to each other. And here we are. Both divorced, living in a blended family consisting of him, his two children, and me. Plus assorted pets. It's a (not very) controlled chaos, but for the majority of the time I love it.
I won't go into a lot of details of our life here, because you'll read that in the journal proper. But it's crazy busy, with our respective jobs, and kids, and pets, and going to school, and building an addition onto our house. I'm learning to become a step-parent (Calvin and I will be getting married, just don't know when). I get a lot of support and advice from alt.support.step-parents on Usenet. Other than that, it's fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants!
What on Earth for???
I've always had the need to keep a journal. I've kept a written one since I was small (they're all stored in boxes in my garage). And then I started reading other people's journals on-line, and I thought "What a great idea!" Kind of like exhibitionism without the sex. Well, at least, in the sites I read. Mostly. I love the feedback concept. I love keeping an account of my life, and reading back over it in the years to come. I love how much more dynamic an on-line journal can be, as opposed to a written journal. It's more like a conversation, and life-album (I will become a PhotoShop fiend, I suspect).
You'll notice that I write like I talk. No grammatical correctness here nosiree Bob. If I keep writing, I suppose it'll improve, but that's not the reason I'm starting this effort. Lots of folks have started their on line journals to document noble events and efforts in their life. That ain't me. Nothing noble here. Just my life, such as it is, with all it's funny stories, annoying details, happiness, sadness, home improvement projects from Hell, and dog hair.
Also, see Laura's Bio Part II!