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I still don't know what's going on with my niece, but I think she's okay. Her mommy is being sent to prison, and her daddy is going to be staying with us until he can get a car. I spent yesterday running him around to get his tax return taken care of, and possibly he might get the money today *hugs H&R Block*. He doesn't know really what's going on either, but he probably isn't going to get his daughter back. If she's allowed to come to somebody in the family, it'll be my sister because she's married and now has a house that they just moved into on Thursday.

So long as the baby's okay, I feel better. I'm a little upset for my brother, but really, I'm not suprised. His wife has a really bad temper, plus she has epilepsy and she just shouldn't be left alone with a baby (my brother had been gone all week, trying to make a little money to buy diapers and stuff). Oh yeah, she's pregnant too and will probably have this one in jail.

Drama central is my life, and yet, I feel oddly displaced from it. Like I'm on the outside looking in. I think I've done this for my entire life as some kind of defense mechanism.

I wish I had the courage to write a book about all this, because it would definitely get me some money. The only problem is, I still like my family, even if I want to move far far away and never see any of them for five or six years, and I know I'd hurt their feelings by doing something like that. I suppose I could always use a psuedonym and maybe change some genders around, but then, it wouldn't be the same, in my eyes at least. Plus, I prefer fantasy, thriller, myster, science fiction and trashy romances to fiction based on a true story, or out and out non-fiction.

Speaking of trashy romances, my sister gave me this book to read. The words on the cover said "romantic suspense". I was in the mood for mystery/thriller/suspense, and had already read all the Dean Koontz books we have (he's great at doing the romance thing too--it's just enough to make a hopeless romantic like myself squee, but not enough to take away from the main plot), so I was game. Unfortunately, it took me forever to read it because it wasn't well-written at all. Better than bad-fic I suppose, but so much worse than some fanfiction I've read. And, the plot was totally unbelievable. It sucked. Hard. Disappointing me.

So, as soon as I can get my chair in a position that doesnt make me strain to type, I'm gonna write a trashy romance involving my own characters. Yup. I am. Really. Maybe.