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When I moved my old stuff over to this blog, I did so because I needed a clean sheet of paper to get me in the mood to write every day. It worked out fine - for about a week or so. Everywhere I looked a story was hatching and all I wanted to do was get home from work and type, type, type. Exactly 2 weeks ago today I sliced my hand open and it didn't stop me from typing with the other one. Exactly 1 week ago, I started my second semester of grad school - that mystical and amazing almost untouchable and unbelieveable thing called school that I have been waiting four years to do and what happened to my writing? You know that answer. The soda shop girl making banana splits in my head turned back into the frigid old day biddy. (I know at least one of you will catch that reference!) All of the creative juices stopped flowing. And for a couple of days, I was cool with that. Truly, I have a lot of reading to do. And let me just add that last semester, I had the highest grade in the class - thats right, the woman with 2 jobs, 2 kids, no kitchen and no money managed it. And why? Because I did all of my readings, so even when I didn't commandeer the conversation in class, I still knew what was what. So thats why when a few days went by with no blog, I didn't get too cross with myself.

Today was the first day that a potential blog popped into my head this past week. And I can tell you, for a start, its got a big fat nothing to do with creativity or my education. Somebody tried to poison my dogs today. You heard me. Someone wants my dogs dead. And the reason? Because somebody wants my stuff and it is that much easier if my dogs aren't trying to kill whoever it is on the way in or way out.

Look, I don't have that much stuff. I barely have a kitchen - and that is no joke. For anyone interested, here is a list of items that could potentially fetch a price: 1-TV, 1-VCR, 1-DVD player, 2-TV speakers, 1-desktop computer, monitor & printer, 1-cheap guitar, 1-old Nikon (not digital), and a whole host of old CDs, DVDs & old videos, most of which are so scratched that they no longer can be played and certainly no 2nd hand store is going to buy a recorded from TV copy of "The Christmas Story". My iPod is visibly missing from this list. Why? Because I've even taken to wearing it in a hidden travel belt made for passports & stuff (because I am paranoid). But back to the list; I have no diamonds or jewlery of any value, I don't have any cash foreign or local, none of the items are the newest, latest and highly sought after products (except maybe the roomba which I forgot to add, but needs a converter/adapter to work anyhow since it has an American plug). Basically, nobody I know would buy the crap that we own.

Except, when you live in my suburb of Johannesburg, behind great big giant walls, an electric fence and 2 guard dogs - which by the way, everyone in my suburb has - nobody knows what you have and the level of protection suggests a lot more than what we really have. In reality, the protection is because I want to live, I want my kids to live and I want us all to do this with as little therepy and as few medical bills as possible. I know that I come from a different place, a place where safety is pretty generally an accepted fact. Look things happen in Cleveland, even in freaking Mentor, but its not like everytime you pull out of your drive way, you expect, anticipate and plan for someone to stick a gun to your head, demand entrance to your property, relieve you of your valuables, and tie you to your remaining furniture while your kids are screaming their heads off so the holders of the guns can get safely away. Okay, this didn't happen to me today, but it happens all the time here. And today, someone tried to poison my dogs, which can only mean that someone intends to relieve me of my valuables while threatening my life and potentially the lives of my kids.

My dogs are fine, we found them eating something they shouldn't have been. Within half an hour, I was at the vet who soon after induced vomiting, and advised me to try and keep them inside tonight (which, by the way, means our cats are probably going to run away). My dogs are fine and because I can act rationally when I need to, my kids are completely unaware, but me, I am not so fine. I am constantly paranoid, exhausted from waking at every noise, tired of being strong and brave, resentful because I have this stress and above all angry because I am stuck in this evil, depraved and frightening place. Seriously, I'd trade rural West Virginia for this crap. I have got to get out of here. I hate the South African me. And every day, I begin to hate this place a little more. For those among you who are reading this within a 20 mile radius of my house, I'm really sorry to bash this place that you love so much, but I have no love for it and give you full permission to bash the place I love so much. Which, I might add, none of you have been to and probably verbally destroy on a regular basis without my permission anyhow.

I don't need life to be easy, in fact when I've got nothing to do, I make up "challenges" for myself, but really, this is too much. Wars are fought because people have a love of or devotion to whatever they are defending. In this case, my children; but this soldier is really fecking tired and needs replacement troops. Or better yet, get me the hell out of here; you can have the soil and even the 10 year old TV if you really want it. Take my car, take away the long awaited opportunity to get my masters, and even my blessed iPod. You can have it all in exchange for 4 one-way tickets to the States. I need to go home.