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This is just so damn frustrating. . . I can't see straight. My eyeballs are hurting, that is how frustrated I am right now.

Megan and I purchased a car the other day. A brand new Mazda 3i. We had been running the numbers for nearly a week, all possible permutations and variations that we could think of. We decide that we can afford to make $1700 payments each month and still have enough left over to take care of life and put away money for savings. No big deal, eh?

So, we head down to the dealership. Everything is going great. They have the car we want (in a manual, no less) with the package we wanted at the price we had figured out. Everything is smooth as silk, until we get into financing. Because Megan has $4k in collections against her. . . she has bad credit. And me? I have no credit which is even worse than having bad credit. . . at least in the eyes of financial institutions. So we need to have a co-signer on the loan for the car and a $1000 cash down payment, which we paid on the spot.

We made a few calls, and reached Megan's mom, Susan. She agreed to be our co-signer and gave all the pertinent information. With her on the loan, our monthly payments (on a 72 month loan) would only be $399. Sweet, right? 8.9% interest. . . but we are going to be paying it off in 12 months flat. No worries.

Then Susan changes her mind while at the dealership. She isn't going to sign for it until after we have insurance on it. But I don't get paid until Friday. . . so what the ******** can I do? I spent all day today going to every single insurance company in Utah county trying to find someone that can give us a decent rate. At 4 pm, I found one. They will insure both Megan and I on this car for only $812 per 6 months. Awesome!

So I make the commitment. We have insurance as of 8:00 am Friday morning. And then Susan calls me at 4:45.

She had called the dealership and told them that she wasn't going to sign on the loan no matter what. They aren't going to argue with her, it isn't their place. So she starts rambling about "variables" and "vagaries of fate". . . and believe me, as some of you may know, I am not the kind of person that you can pass flawed logic by.

She did have a few quasi-valid points in her reason, but dammit, I am being really nice on giving it that kind of validation. Her reasoning was asinine, manipulative and down-right bitchy, in my opinion.

So, here it is now at quarter to nine, and I have yet to sleep because I am waiting to hear back from the dealership on what options I might have in this situation. They said that the only way we could get it was a co-signed loan. Susan was our only option for that and she flaked.

I guess there is another way that they might be able to pull it off. . . but if it will work, they will require more money upfront and the interest rate goes up to 20%.

I have been crying for nearly an hour now. Not because I don't think we can keep the car. The car doesn't really matter. It is the frustration of always being pulled back down just as I start to climb up that is really hurting the most. All I need is this one leg up. . . and I have my foot in the door. Financial security which then leads to my ultimate goal of freedom.

14 minutes left before the dealership closes for the day. I am not going to answer my phone after 9 tonight. I know it is stupid, but if I drag my feet until Friday morning, maybe it will work out. Nah, it would be too simple if that were the case. And simple is something that just never happens for me.

I love my job. We sit around and bullshit all day and answer our phones when they ring (today I have only taken 2 calls and they were both wrong numbers).

Friday morning, my co-worker John and I were engaged in a fairly philosophical discussion (we included the lesser mortals that surrounded us, just to be fair) and for the first time ever, someone saw through a question I asked and gave a real answer.

The question I always ask is this: If someone kills a mime, does anyone care?

Most people (yourself included, I would imagine) simply laugh at this and brush it off as just another mime joke.

But John is one of the few people who saw through that and got the point.

I knew I liked him for a reason.

I am afraid to talk to her.

I am afraid to tell her of my fears.

I know that she enjoys going out and spending time with people but I have a hard time doing that.

Anxiety overrules enjoyment. I don't like large groups of people. Especially when I don't know them.

I might feel comfortable if I am already with a group of people I am comfortable with.

Agoraphobia. . . I hate it. I hate the way it makes me feel. I hate its effects on other people. Especially those I am in relationships with.

But at the same time, I am afraid to talk about it.

It is like admitting that I have a weakness. I don't like having a weakness. It is like admiting that I am not the pinnacle of perfection as I know it. It isn't an ego thing, it is just. . . I don't know.

Maybe it is just pride. I don't know. Mostly, I guess, it is fear.

So, I have a co-worker (let's call him Curtis) who'se job is on the chopping block because he sucks really, REALLY bad at it.

To give you an idea as to how bad he sucks at it. . . Our calls are frequently recorded for training and quality control purposes. On occasion, we are graded on our calls.

There has been a record of the lowest grade ever. . . and Curtis tied with it.

That is how bad he is doing.

Anyways, it seems he thinks that if he makes everyone else look bad, he won't look so bad in comparison.

So, he has been spreading lies about several people on our team . . . and it apparently was my turn today.

The story that he told was that I was sound asleep when a call came in. . . and I only answered it long enough to tell the client that I was "Too damn tired to deal with this." It seems, that he wasn't just telling other teammates because I just received an email from my supervisor that reads,



Yeah, I know exactly who the "various sources" are. And I know exactly what the "complaints" are.

So, I am not stressed about it. But it is still annoying that some 45 year old douche bag is trying to get everyone in trouble just to save his own neck.

A lot has happened in the last month.

Where to start?

1. I am still working.

2. I turned 22 on November 7th. And that was fun.

3. s**t happened.

4. I don't remember.

5. Kevin Moore, one of my best friends in the entire world came home from Afganistan for 2 weeks before being shipped to England. We have hung out for the last 6 days straight. Tomorrow is his last day before he leaves.

We had a blast hanging out down in St. George. A good friend of ours, Keely (pronounced "Kee Lee" wink lives down there and she invited us to stay with her for a few days.

Funny story. While we were down there in St. George, Keely's friend (who shall be known as "Bald Creepy ********" wink invited us to "A kick-a** bonfire. It is going to be huge and we will have drinks and munchies and tons of people there. It is going to be great!"

So, we go there. It started at about 8:30 and by 9 was in full swing. Yeah. The "huge" bonfire consisted of a single burning pallet. In their defense, they did manage to bring a total of four so they could keep it burning for a full 20 minutes.

The "tons" of people ended up being 12 redneck Mormons. And a redneck wigger.

Drinks and Munchies equaled a six-pack of Barq's Root Beer and a half-eaten bag of Lay's potato chips.

After about 10 minutes of listening to these insipid morons talk about "last Sunday's lesson", I had to have some nicotine. So, Kevin and I walk about 30 feet away and I light up.

Kevin turned to me and said, "Dude, I don't have anything to say to these bastards. There is nothing that we can relate on."

Then I quipped, "Well, you could always make up some story about fisting a cow. I am sure that someone here can relate (or is related to) that."

So he did. He walks back to the "bonfire", waits for a lull in the masturbatory whining and then says as loud as he can, "So, two weeks ago, I was elbow deep in a cow's a**." I started laughing so hard I dropped my cigarette.

Ben is ok.

Job is good.

Internet is up and running.

I don't have anything else to say.

I am bored at the moment, though. I forgot to bring a book to work, and there really isn't much action on any of the forums that I frequent.

I apologize in advance for the length of this post, but I need to get it all out.

This is the fifth time I have attempted to type this out and share it with you all. . . it is a development in my life that I feel needs to be shared, not only for the support, but also so that others might learn.

For those of you who have read my posts, you may have picked up on the fact that my mother was physically and psychologically abusive to me and my siblings. As a quick refresh in history, so we are all on the same page. . .

I have two siblings. A half-sister, Camilla, age 18 and a half-brother, Ben, age almost 16. WE all have different fathers, our mother was the only thing that we shared.

My mother kicked me out of the house at age 16. "Get the ******** out of my house and get the ******** out of my life." were her exact words.

I was placed in State Custody after a 4 month legal battle. The state (utah) was trying to get my siblings out of my mother's custody as well. However, my mother is a masterful manipulator. She has it down so good that when she put my sister in the hospital by beating her, my mother convinced the police that it was Camilla's fault for "back-talking". The cop told my sister that, "If you were my kid, I would have taken you home and beaten the s**t out of you, too."

As I said, master manipulator. An artisan of deceit, lies and manipulation.

Anyways, back to the point. When I was kicked out of the house, nearly 7 years ago, my Mormon Bishop. . . did nothing. For years I had viewed him as an accomplice to the abuse perpetuated by my mother. Bishop R*****s of the Battle Creek 5th ward, was alerted to the abuse not only by myself/siblings, but by neighbors and friends as well.

He did nothing.

In fact, this man had the audacity to place the blame upon me. . . as if my mother kicking the s**t out of me was my fault. "Don't you think it would be better for you to just do what she asks? Then she won't hurt you."

What. The. ********.

It didn't matter if us children were obedient or not. . . she would make up reasons to beat us. Breathing too loud, completing our chores, cleaning our rooms, taking longer than five minutes to walk the 1.5 miles to Church, just about anything. There was no rhyme nor reason, no method to her madness.

Anyways, skip ahead to my being placed in the care of the State. I knew that my mother was continuing her abuse with my sister and brother, but there was nothing I could do about it. The police were wrapped around my mother's finger, the state was terrified that if they tried to take Camilla or Ben, my mother would kill the other one. My hands were tied.

It has taken me years to recover from the situation. . . and sometimes I wonder if I will ever be fully "healed".

But the object of this post is my siblings. Because, while I was safe, they were still living with my mother. They were still "behind the iron curtain" as it were.

I knew that my brother was getting the brunt of the physical abuse. Going to his Eagle Scout Court of Honor, he had a black eye and his torso was all bruised. He "said" that he received the injuries playing baseball. . . but my sister told him to stop lying.

Skip ahead a few years. Yesterday morning, I was walking home from work. It was about 10:30 am (because I had to wait for my check to arrive) and as I was walking, who should bike past, but my sister Camilla. I called out to her and asked her if she would walk along with me and talk.

She had some really good news to share with me. My brother, after one beating too many, bugged out of there and is living out east with my grandfather.

My sister, after my mother turned to her as an outlet for physical agression. had enough and left for the local women's shelter. Some of you may know, but at a women's shelter, they do analysis and basic therapy (mostly in a group setting) to help people recognize the abuse.

My sister, after a week, came to the realization that what our mother was doing is wrong. Not just wrong, but sick and wrong. She expressed to me that she realizes, now, that she was being abused as well. And apparently, it wasn't just the psychological and physical. . . but there might be some sexual abuse that was taking place as well.

All in all, it was a rather healthy conversation that lasted nearly 4 hours (in the middle of my sleep cycle) and a meal.

Remember the Bishop I mentioned before? Apparently he did a lot more than just ignore what was going on. From the information that I received, he called the Department of Child and Family Service (child protective services elsewhere) several times. He also assigned members of the ward to watch over my siblings and make sure they had places to turn for comfort, under the guise of being my mother's friend. There is an entire ring of people who made it their business to look out for Camilla and Ben.

So, all is well that ends well, right?

I have decided that I am going to sue my mother for custody of my brother. He doesn't have to go back to her.

Thanks for hearing me out.

Edited to Add: Also, I started asking Camilla about her religious beliefs and she made the comment that "Mom has a predilection for people and groups that are abusive and manipulative. Bryan, what do you think that says about the Church she made us join?"

There is hope out there yet.

As some of you may have heard, I started working as an employee again. I have several hours a day that are not filled with anything, and money is always good.

So, I applied for a tech support job at a company named Sento. It is a call center similar in design to Convergys. . . but much better.

I am on the Ojo project. For those of you who don't know, check out the Motorola Ojo. It is the best real-time, two-way video phone that runs on VoIP technology.

Anyways, because the company is new. . . and I am working on graveyard. . . I have a bit of spare time and thought I would update my journal.

Mahia moved in last night. We have everything unloaded off the truck and I think her brother is heading back to California after the last session of General Conference.

I think that he doesn't know about Mahia and Keene. Keene has been being upfront and honest about stuff (like sleeping together) but Mahia seems to think that for now, lieing is best. I don't agree. . . so I have been taking the middle ground. I neither confirm nor deny anything that is happening.

Megan went camping with our friend Jen the other day. She just needed to get out and have some fun. Speaking of fun, I need to purchase a small television so that I can bring in an N64 and play some video games while between calls. Let's see them track that.

Well, I have now been at work for 3 hours and 10 minutes. Only 4 hours and 50 minutes to go. . . I am not that tired, but hunger is a b***h. . . and I have been craving nicotine.

I don't have a lot of time, so here is the update.

I finished moving. . . and we are starting the process of unpacking, Takai, I might be giving you a call later.

I don't have internet until the end of the week. . . so I will only be on intermittently.

To those who sent me PM's and didn't receive a response, I am sorry, but I will reply when I get a chance, ok?

Have fun. Don't die, it kind of sucks.