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Well as some of you know I ended up leaving where I was living, and moved in with this girl. At first things were going good. Then i start to notice my addiction coming out again.. It was like a beast locked up until I fucked up and got high.
A few days ago I was taking a shower, and when I got out I opened up the little mirror in the bathroom and found roughly 60 lortabs, I should have fucking shut the mirror then and there and went on with my life, but instead I had to take a couple. There was no impulse on what would happen when the girl found out.
Long story short, she found out(i'm guessing?) because the past week hasn't been like the best week for us, meaning we havn't really been communicating. she works AM,i work PM we hardly even see each other except for when i get off, and come in around 12:30am or so.
I think something is brewing in the background, I shouldn'tve taken those fucking pills already knowing that this shit was going to happen. Why do i do stupid shit like this? Am I really that bad in controlling myself around drugs? I really don't think this is going to end well.. All I can do is say when the time comes is admit and tell her that I have a problem, and tell her that I'm getting help for it.
That wont guarantee anything, maybe buy me some time..
I have been to a fair number of concerts in the last 3 years between bonnaroo,electric forest and some local ones. But I have never had an experience like the one I had at Citizen Cope friday night. The trip to the show starts somewhere on the interstate between Birmingham and Atlanta when my buddy pulls out the spoon and the bags of Ketamine. By the time we get into the city I am fairly wasted and trying to find a hotel to stay in near the Tabernacle was crazy. Apperantly the Hawks where playing the Heat so its just a madhouse of scalpers and fans kids all out in the road. It was right after dusk so the city lights where crazy I am glad I wasnt driving. After driving around for 40 minutes or so we finally decide on a hotel with a balcony on the 8th floor which I thought was pretty sweet. So once in the hotel we realize we got like an hour to kill so naturally we got real fucked up on the K. We finally pull ourselves together and walk to the show.

The adventure started immediatly trying to negotiate walking on a crowded sidewalk in an unfamiliar city while that fucked up was quite hard. I remember thinking that I felt like dr gonzo in the fear and loathing scene with ether. Got some wierd looks for sure. So we make it the venue and get in without much incident.
Pretty crazy man... never thought I'd see this day. I got a lot going for me. Really took a turn in my life for the good.. Im really happy with my decision. Best thing i have prolly done.
Why is it when a female manages to make friends with a person who is also friends/business partners with said female's roommate, a sour attitude and a chauvinistic stream of negativity ensues?
A continuation...

Mariz, alone in the guesthouse with me as everyone in the compound was asleep, presented a very, very delicate situation for me. Obviously I could make a move and possibly end up taking her virginity, or, I could be the good hearted soul I like to imagine myself to be and usher Mariz back to her house after a few wise words of counsel...Fuck it, I tore that ass up. Hey, I never said I am a saint.

Of course it wasn't the wisest of decisions given the cult's propencity for violence and the high price tag attached to virginity in the Philippines, but I hadn't had sex since late-June and Mariz's night clothes revealed that she was far from the stick figure I had imagined her to be. We spent 3 hours together before she finally left to sneak back into her house. Of course she professed her deep and undying love to me which shocked me back to reality, I now had a real responsibility towards this girl.

The whole "relationship" up to that point had not been anything especially deep and meaningful. I was looking for a rebound liason to clear my head of Lovely and her incessant flip-flopping mindgames, and treally had never intended to move beyond spending time with Mariz, chaste and unencumbered. Now, too quickly, everything had changed. My biggest concern was that damn cult. Taking her virginity basically tied me to the girl and being tied to Mariz meant that I would have to join her cult- something I wasn't prepared to do. With these thoughts in my head I joined Mariz and her family for breakfast just as the sun was coming up.

At the table Mariz's father, the pastor, asked me how long I would be staying on Luzon, I told him- without looking at Mariz- that I would be heading back to Makati the following morning and then flying back to New York that same evening. I could feel Mariz's eyes boring into me and then- she kicked me under the table. I almost choked on my Congee as I continued to tell the pastor that I would like to have a word with him after the meal. Everyone's ears perked up as they wondered what I wanted to discuss, least among them Mariz who was now chomping at the bit to have it out with me.

After breakfast I quickly told Mariz to hold whatever it is she wanted to say until after I finished hashing it out with her father. Joining the pastor on his short walk to the church I basically told him that I had serious intentions towards Mariz and would like to discuss the conversion process with him. I knew he would promptly tell his family and thought that this would buy me some breathing room with Mariz. The pastor told me that he would refer me to an INC (Iglesia ni Cristo) congregation, or "locale" in New York. I begged off and asked that he himself help me undergo the process explaining that such a radical change would be best undertaken with a pastor who knew me personally and understood the difficult choice I was making. The pastor quickly agreed and I quietly let out a sigh of relief, dodging the proverbial bullet- at least for the moment.

To be continued...
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The last entry in here is from right after my first semester of college. Now I'm done with college. Graduated Magna Cum Laude and also got to spend a semester abroad at Oxford University, UK. Too bad Bachelor's degrees are useless.

My last post on Bluelight is from almost a year ago. It's a trip report about methylone, which I had tried for the first time 2 weeks before my report. Now I've done it about 25 times. I prefer it to "molly" now because of its consistency. I stopped doing rolls a while ago and was only doing molly, but now molly is such a well-known term that it's often cut to shit just like rolls. Methylone (or M1 as everyone around here calls it), on the other hand, has been consistent. I've gotten it through 4 different people and it's always the same.

Regardless, I went overboard this summer. My two rules about drugs were always 1. never use MDMA or similar substances more than once a month and 2. only take psychedelics if the setting is right and it's been planned out. Made a lot of bad decisions this summer, mostly due to a girl who's no longer in my life. It's different than the summer of 2006 though, because I'm not 16 anymore and should've been doing more productive things. I also don't regret the summer of 06 and am happy I have those memories with the people that were involved. I don't have awesome memories of this summer. When I was 16, I knew nothing about what I was doing to my body but didn't care and had a blast. I found bluelight shortly after that and have been reading this site for 6 years now and have become quite knowledgeable about drugs. Bluelight changed the way I use, basically I became smarter about it. This summer it's like I threw all that out the window and lived like I was 16 again. But this time, it wasn't fun except when I was actually on drugs. Because I knew what was happening and I knew I wanted to stop doing it. But when the opportunity for some cheap thrills arose, it was too good to pass up. It's so easy to do drugs. You just take a little chemical and it forces you to feel fucking awesome. As rational as I could be about it when I was thinking about it objectively, that rational thought made no difference when a guaranteed good time was right in front of me. And she really liked drugs, and I really liked spending time with her. I can't deny that was a big part of it.

Things have been calmer. I've been trying to be healthy. Because honestly, it feels great when you're living healthy. It's not like drugs, where you feel fantastic some of the time and neutral or even crappy the rest of the time. Just feelin good all the time. I broke out of the cycle in September. I replaced drugs and my drug friends with hiking. I'd hike all the time, all over Massachusetts, almost always alone. Then I bought a mountain bike and started biking trails which is awesome. But recently it's been getting cold and it seems every day I don't have work, it's raining. So now I can't do that as often, but when I do finally get the opportunity, it's always awesome. Since I can't be outside all the time anymore, I've been eating huge breakfasts every morning and started a new work out schedule. Been feeling pretty good about that for sure. It's the one thing I can control right now. I've been looking for jobs, really anything at all, while still working part time and living at home. It sucks because I've applied to so many places but no luck, so I've been feeling kinda shitty about that. But there's not much I can really do about it, while I can control working out and eating.

And I still indulge on occasion. But it's back to how it used to be. I've been using recreationally for years and for the majority of that time, it's been nothing but positivity. It's just sometimes you fall off the horse. But that's no reason to stop riding entirely, just gotta make sure you don't fall off again. Or something.
Some homework I did for AA and my sponsor.

Assignment : Read "we Agnostics"

Write my conception of god .

My Conception of god is a supirior being, possibly of multiple beings or presences. God, imo, created us to experience love, happiness, and create things like art, music, and structures. We have a purpose, which is to reproduce and possible manufacture something that is of value to him. While I think god wants us to do right, I also feel like he gave us certain animalistic traist like anger and fear for a reason. I feel like everything he does has a pupose behind it, and all the people I cross paths with were put there for a purpose indirectly.

I feel like he listens to me often, and tries his best to help me, even if I dont agree at the time. I think he gave me my gifts for a reason, I'm just not sure why yet. I feel like he needs me, which is why he didn't let me overdose or die in my addiction or die in one of my many car accidents. I feel like he made me unique as a gift. I do realize he loves me, and that he does indeed exist, which is something I didn't believe for a while.
Why, hello from the Pacific Northwest. I'm presently sitting in a painfully boring lecture and I want to fuck off, so I will.

Since the last time I wrote... where would I begin? Well, I got involved in the wrong crowd, namely the asshole from Mississippi who stole my dog and tried to get me incarcerated. I didn't give him or his sorry-ass mother a shot at getting forgiveness. True to form, the cops out here in suburbistan are more concentrated on pulling people over for traffic violations... and it's never the people that deserve them. I absolutely loathe getting on the road out here. It is like running a gauntlet.

My license and criminal record remain spotless despite my ex's efforts to the contrary. Really, I hope the son of a bitch dog thief fries and that every cop who subject stops someone for a broken taillight is subject to an internal review panel. Make of this what you will.

My beloved dog remains unreturned. I was told to take it to civil court, and I did. Awaiting word from the animal rights lawyer on that and not supposed to talk about the details. Blah. Chloe, my Siberian Husky, has 3/4 of an acre and four foster brothers of the pug and French bulldog variety (my roommate is an altruist, ex-Mormon from Alaska) to welcome her home. She is my sweet, gentle therapy dog, who gives sweet snuggles to everyone she meets. Inuit legend has it that how you treat your husky in this life determines how you will be treated in the next life. In my dog's eyes, I saw a tireless worker with a big playful husky heart. I won't give up on her. Ever.

I've been seeing a guy who is really different, he's a bit older, works for a bank, ever so sweet and supportive emotionally. In the interest of Bluelight, he used to buy crack in Hunter's Point (a really bad neighborhood in San Francisco) and has a nutjob French ex-wife, 2 adult children, and 2 chihuahuas. He also has his shit majorly together and took me on our first real date to a super swanky dressup type place. He is blond and gorgeous and our last date was spent going through files in his house in the adjacent suburb. Quite the difference from that piece of trash from Mississippi. Nothing against Mississippi. I'll take crack and San Francisco for a daily double, Alex.

Work and school are what they are. I'm entering an odd pattern of sobriety aside from the green and the occasional pint or glass of wine. I am healthier and I do not need to worry about any more bullshit. Nearly quit the benzos as well, there will always be an emergency Valium in my purse. I'm in better shape physically and mentally, no longer drowned.

Obama has another 4 years in office and I think that's awesome. :) Weed and same-sex marriage got legalized in Washington. My family about passed out and said "what the hell is that corner of the country thinking". They haven't been to see me here so it's about half-time at home. I want to believe in this lovely Pacific Wonderland. It costs a fraction in school and living. I'm tired of the constant travel. Alaska will still be there in a few months.

My battery is dead. I hope this finds everyone well, it's been a nice lunch. :)
"Icy Hell"

© S Raine


Looking forward with fear I stare.
I face the mirror to see there.
I’ve lost my family, my friends are few.
You’ve controlled my life but now I’m through.
I’m finally strong enough to fight.
By myself I’ll make this right.
I’ve lived in Hell with my demon.
I’ve done your deeds a life of scheming.
All I’ve loved I’ve lost no hope.
All that’s left is you and dope.
Seeing life smoked through a glass.
To erase the memories from my past.
With every hit I kept you strong.
I’ve stayed weak for far to long.
I’m taking back all you stole.
My life, my love, my world, my soul.
Today’s the day I leave this jail.
So take your demon and go to Hell.
The End


"My Name Is Meth"

If my ‘glamorous’ lifestyle
Is appealing to you. . .
And you want to try me
Because you’ve ‘nothing to lose’. . .
Then, let me give you
A bit of advice:
You are a fool. . .
And you’d better think twice.

I destroy homes
I tear families apart
I take your children
And thats just the start
Im more value than diamonds
More precious than gold
The sorrow I bring
Is sight to bold

If you need me, remember
Im easily found,
I live all around you
In school and in town
I live with the rich
I live with the poor
I live just down the road
Or maybe next door

Im made in a lab,but
Not in one like you think
I can be made under your kitchen sink
Or in your childrens closet
And even out in the woods
If it scares you to death
It certainly should.

I have many names
But there’s one you know best
Im sure you’ve heard of me
My names Crystal Meth
My power is awesome
Try me and you’ll see
But if you do
You may never break free

Just try me once
And I might let you go
But if you try me twice
Then I own your soul

When I possess you
You’ll steal and lie
You’ll do what you have to
Just to get high
The crimes you’ll commit
For my narcotic charms
Will be worth for the pleasure
You’ll feel in my arms

You’ll lie to your mother
You’ll steal from your dad
When you see their tears
You must not feel sad

Just forget your morals
And how you were raised
I’ll be your conscious
I’ll teach you my ways

I take kids from their parents
I take parents from kids
I turn people from god
I seperate friends
I’ll take everything from you
Even your good looks and your pride
I’ll be with you always
Right here by your side.

You’ll give up everything
Your family, your home
Your money,you friends
You’ll be all alone
I’ll take and I’ll take
Til you give no more to give
When Im finished with you
You’ll be lucky to live

If you try me be warned
THIS IS NOT A GAME
If im given the chance
I’ll drive you insane
I’ll ravage your body
I’ll control your mind
I’ll own you completely
Your soul will be mine

The nightmares I’ll give you
When your lying in bed…
And the voices you’ll hear
From inside your head
The sweats,the shakes and the visions you’ll see…
I want you to know
These are your gifts from me

By then its too late
And you’ll know in your heart
That you are now mine
And we shall not part
You’ll regret that you tried me (They always do)
Remember, you came to me
Not I, to you

You knew this would happen
How many times were you told?
But you challenged my power
You chose to bold
You could have said “No” and walked away
If you could live that day over
Now what would you say?

My power is awesome
As I told you before
I can take your mother
And turn her into a whore
Go ahead and curse me
With every breath
Just make your choice
Will it be life or meth?

You will take unknown paths
On your journey through life
Some will bring happiness
Some will bring strife
But, my path is one
You must not ever cross.
Although its well trodden
Countless lives have been lost

Now that you’ve met me
What will you do?
Will you try me or not?
It’s all up to you
I can show you more misery
Than words can tell
Come take my hand
Let me lead you to hell!



and my personal favorite...

"Tweaking"

Just one more hit.
Hey I thought you quit.
I gave it a try, but I like the meth high.
I don’t face reality or try to deal
And I never worry where I will get my next meal.
I have come to accept this is the life for me.
Put me in jail, I don’t like being free.
I don’t want to see my family, my kids, or my friends.
Is today the day it will finally all end.
I was doing so good, I was doing so great.
I saw my p.o and I wasn’t late.
I went to sleep at night and woke up the next day.
I finally got legitimate pay.
I had a girl I could sit with and just talk.
Until into my mind came a clear little rock.
My new family was laid to rest.
I got a warrant for my dirty drug test.
I moved into a house under surveillance and bugged.
To avoid the thought, I stayed constantly drugged.
A house full of tweaks is not a fun sight.
They are plotting something all day and all night.
What made me go back to my old ways.
I’m seeing shadow people, I haven’t slept in days.
I miss how it was, watching movies and eating.
When will I learn to finally stop tweaking.?

idk if this is exactly what a blog is all about but a guy like me has the most difficult time expressing how i feel inside. if you knew me personally, you would know that inside im dying, but on the oputside im fearless..
i really dont give a shit if this isnt in the "guidelines" of a blog. or ive failed to meet the "BLUA". this is me expressing myself in the only way i know possible, so if this doesnt meet your standards BL, you can get fucked. BL gives me a place to feel im not alone, and to get these things off my chest that build up causing so much pressure and tension. i sometimes feel as though, im gonna fuckin' explode! but after posting in TDS or any other forum for that matter, not all but a tiny bit of that pressure is released. i can breathe...
crystal meth has tore my life apart in a matter of months. lifetime friends gone in a matter of weeks. my own mother wont speak to me and my little brother sees me a fucking junkie...idk where to start or what to do to make things right...but im desperately seeking an answer...
later BL'ers!
im not allowing comments because most of you make me feel ignorant and dumb. im not well educated and have poor reading writing skills and it seems instead of shedding some light on the gray areas of my knowledge i get this attitude of arrogance. having a phd in ilegal drug use is nothing to be proud of...jussayin.
i think some BL'ers need to step back and read what they write out loud. critisism and arrogance filled with that underlying tone of "this guys a fuckin retard"
from my understanding, harm reduction is about people who DONT KNOW the safest way, to talk with people who DO KNOW the safest way. idk maybe im fucked in the head and delusional, but thats the vibe i get most the time. i find myself trying very hard to sound smart and be someone im not. and thats not how it should be.
im more of a "steve o" type guy, not a fucking albert einstein!
no more pussyfootin from the KING. let it be known!
If you are a daily user of good drugs like opiates, then you will eventually be forced to confront your habit as an enemy or personality defect by a myriad of systematically imposed consequences. Even if you're lucky enough like me to have avoided (so far) serious narcotic possession charges, and had to deal merely with the financial reality that consuming more pills allows for less consumption of other goods and services, the public and private agencies charged with helping people like me quit drugs and save more money in order to buy "things worth buying" are, even in the most intimate form of a psychologist hired to offer individualized solutions, unflinchingly dedicated to laws that impose life-destroying punishments on drug users - making caricatures out of people with habits, creating financial and legal examples of what drug use obviously must lead to as a matter of course.

Inside all of our minds is a picture of the invalid drug addict who is a laughable failure at life, just rejected by society to the point where it is okay to perpetuate his suffering. My picture is of a guy with 5-10 year old Reebok high tops and sagging but tight fitting jeans. He's skinny with a sunken chest and arms that look underdeveloped, obviously from being too lazy to do anything except get high. That's what you get for being so selfish all the time. Let him go in and out of jail, let him always fail to find a job, and let his health problems and exposure to poor living conditions build upon each other until his disgusting figure disappears from my sight forever.

His story was purposeful and predetermined, though, by forces that, once brought out, cease to be navigable without "letting go and letting God," or finally becoming resigned to the fact that the State is right, has always been right, and will still find a place for all of its children so long as they resign themselves to the real fact that their ideas about the right to use drugs, their individual experiences and the perceived validity of their views, are all wrong and not just a little backwards, but completely backwards.

The proof is in the pudding: look at how terrible the long-time addict's life has become. Look at where he is now. He has ceased to build anything other than tentative plans about the next 8 hours. But why?

From his very first vicodin, he was screwed. According to psychology mutated to parallel legal standards, he was predisposed to addiction. This must be true, because he kept exploring opiates and focused a lot of time and money experiencing the unique perspective of a person who can manage all kinds of pain. He is flawed because he seeks a coping mechanism which is illegal and expensive due to the artificially high price of narcotics, although a psychologist will mask the underpinnings of this observation by pointing out the weaknesses of drugs as a coping mechanism when compared to more permanent and safer forms of mental modification such as that offered by popular religions, common and socially acceptable hobbies, and work.

Under no circumstances whatsoever is the use of heroin, for instance, to be viewed as anything other than something that must stop immediately - or if it has stopped, as a constant reason to view a patient suspiciously during any medical treatment. Ironically, however, when it comes to psychiatric treatment, permanent re-fills are given for Prozac, anti-psychotics, and other drugs that are difficult to judge with regard to their addiction potential due to the fact that many people have no idea what it's like to quit, and every official authority figure from every sect accepts the validity of using these drugs for as long as the patient feels he needs them. It would be officially incorrect to label the patient who takes an anti-depressant or anti-psychotic every four hours as an addict, although we do have that word to describe patients who follow the same routine with other drugs.

It is an injustice of the most evil kind when this kind of double-think proliferates the "free market" for psychological assistance when, here in the United States, we've been wise enough to create a medical privacy act that keeps our bodies' diagnoses at arms length from the State (until the Patriot Act, at least) but somehow didn't think ahead to disallow political and economic doctrine from reaching in and sculpting the private personal growth of a patient who trusts that a doctor is charged with helping the individual rather than washing him into the collective blend of norms defined, ultimately, by the fact that much of the drug trade is actively battled with guns, outrageous prison sentences, and committees of people following budget and procedure without much thought to changing the overall mission statement.

Should a person unfortunately enjoy drugs, the likelihood that he will ever find a platform to argue his individual rights from the only valid perspective possible - that of his own - is unlikely. First and foremost, he is currently or has a history of violating laws that carry punishments, including jail time, heavy fines, and the long-lasting financial glass ceiling that is imposed on him by the stain left on his social security number for employers to judge him by and educational loan providers to reject him by. Getting the population at large to do the very least - respect our right to live freely and without the need to add a hindering layer of paranoia to our personalities (don't try to tell us it's drug-related paranoia, either; we can really be thrown into jail and have to sell our possessions to pay fines and court costs at the threat of even more jail time) - is a long shot. At any point, a real drug user seeking to actively fight against a reality that is terribly unjust and even purposefully archaic in its options for general personal counseling, can be locked away immediately and systematically broken down into an individual who has been proven "wrong" by a force so strong and persistent that it will leave him unsure of the validity of any portion of his perspectives.

And that is how we create the perfect picture of the same old story, the 42 year old man who was arrogant enough at one time to consciously reject the paranoia and reject the fear, to take the drugs because they felt good and to question the validity of some of the prescribed consequences. He didn't organize his entire life around hiding his habit, because on a base level he didn't feel that using drugs was immoral, and if he did, he chose not to analyze the possibility that the way in which he managed the only property that was inherently his - his body and mind - would be so morally disagreeable to others that he would be subject to the imposed loss of basic rights and opportunities.

Now he knows he was wrong: his old Reeboks, the crumpled Levi's, the years spent trying to break even with court required duties and the opportunities those times destroyed have left him mentally dilapidated and defeated. He has been beaten into submission and now can't believe how arrogant and stupid he was. Even the slightest admission of the possibility that he might have been right, and that what was done to him by a full cooperation of forces, is rejected because of the fear he has learned that he should have had all along. Look at him, laugh at him and watch him smile back like a senile idiot. You don't have to feel bad, because now he understands that he deserved the ridicule. One day he'll not be there any more, probably coming to an unpleasant end still trying to fight the evil desires he succumbed to with the help of an army of psychologists and psychiatrists who can only help a man with no motivation so much. And there's already another one standing in his place. They never learn!
I need a bbw to take care of me, cuz it's been a minute since I got some and I can't be having no skinny chick trying to please me. Gotta go all in with a healthy girl who gets her protein and carbs.
Most people think that Satanists are people that dress in all black, sacrifice babies during rituals, and worship "THE DEVIL".
Well, that shit just isn't true (although I do wear all black, and I have for years now). People take a step back when they hear that I am
a Satanist. I am not "evil", or whatever you may assume of me. I just happen to have different views on things than YOU do.


I have SO much to say about this topic, but I really have to go to sleep soon.


I am going to continue this post later..this is a priority to me!
Minneapolis is where my habit started and ended.

It is normal to associate almost EVERYTHING with dope?

I see bright orange - it's the color of a rig cap. I bus/bike past the spots...we copped there last summer. I listen to A Tribe Called Quest - we used to ATCQ on all our missions. This is just a TINY example of all my "triggers". Sadly, many of my encounters with triggers are NOT avoidable! I've copped ALL over Minneapolis...I mean ALL over...except Northside...surprisingly!

What can I do to form new memories? For example, I want to be able to listen to A Tribe Called Quest (especially Midnight Marauders!) without wanting a shot! I understand that it's going to be impossible to remove all my "dope memories", or whatever you may call it.

I'm looking for suggestions! Dope, for me, is like a magnet! I struggle to fight the strong attraction between dope and Hannah (that's me!). I feel like a paperclip and dope is the magnet. This is NOT easy, but I am 50 days clean :) staying on that Suboxone maintenance! I appreciate any and all suggestions! <3 Hannah

P.S.: I think this is the first time I have ever mentioned my REAL name..I hope this wasn't a mistake...
I like girls
Girls are cool
White Girls
Girls are fun
Girls yes Girls
Pale skin... So nice
Blonde hair...
Girls yes Girls
Sadly, I kinda fucked shit up with my family. There are no more second,third and forth chances for me. I grew up not really 'living' life and spending time with my family because I staid high all the time, I dont remember any 'fun' family vacations after I started doing drugs. It's like the second I got high, my life changed forever. This guilt n shame still plauges me to this day, If I had only... or If I never IV'd.. I somehow think things would have been diffrent for me.
I don't know if this makes me weird, but I check out my family's facebook pages, I see that they are having so much fun, going on vacations, going out to eat, movies, shows hell even down to florida where my distant family members live (i'm talking about my mom,sister,stepfuck,and brother). Well, what about me? I check my phone and no text when I read on sisters wall: (PACKING FOR FLORDIA TO SEE cuzn#1&2 MOMS blahblah,BROTHERS blahblah, STEPFUCK is blahblah), Maybe my invite got lost in the mail or the other guy with my same name and last name got it. At first this kind of shit really pissed me off, got me angry. Wanted to drive there or fallow them down to florida and park near them and be like...oh hey guys, well this is akward. for shits n giggles, maybe thats to weird.
Now it doesn't bother me like that, now it makes me feel like total shit because here my family is having fun living their lives together...with out me. yea i know it's not all about me, and due to my deppresion and other emotional issues it's hard for me to honestly understand that.. I mean will it take until I'm 40+ years old before they are going to reckonize me for once? I don't want a handout or no money from them, all i really want them is to acknodlege me, hell maybe a message on facebook, or a text asking how i've been..in the past usually when that happens the only 4 letter word that comes out it 'good', and last time my mom sent me text asking me how my day was,was almost a year ago. before i came clean to her that i was on methadone.(im off the shit thankgod but still facing everyday problems because of it).
What I'm trying to do today is live without the fear of my past,(which i'm having a hard time doing). THERE still is hope, somewhere?maybe i'm looking for <3 in all the wrong places.. I'f i'm not feeling any of the love i'm looking for from my family, then maybe I should look for it else where. Maybe a new start is what i'm looking for? A new begining somewhere else then this place. If I only had a chance to get away I would.
Maybe..maybe something out there is waiting for me, I need to find a way out of this slump i'm in and get to it.
I'm starting this blog/thread as compilation/drop for arbitrary topics. This entry is just a copy of a post i wrote in DITM (thread at: http://www.bluelight.ru/vb/threads/648897-Armstrong-Doping-Allegations-Escalate )

feedback/discussion of any sort is encouraged and appreciated.



I like the old car racing saying "If you aint cheating you aint trying".

eh i like the gist of that, but it disgusts me that it's cheating in the 1st place. all pro's/con's of performance-enhancements aside, the fact of the matter is that, while the IOC and USADA are able to forbid athletes from using, they absolutely *cannot* promise any athlete that his competitors are not using. Quite the contrary- in reality, it is all but guaranteed that some will use despite regulations. Therefore you've setup a rule that punishes one for observance - I would hardly call breaking such a rule "cheating". And for the USADA and IOC to pursue this specific violation of the World Anti-Doping Code so vigorously is a disgrace.

A part of me almost wishes he held his ground, but jesus christ are people doing everything they can to crush him - “There comes a point in every man’s life when he has to say, ‘Enough is enough.’ For me, that time is now." So he's not contesting this, and this world champion, cancer survivor, elite athlete, hero/idol is now being drug through shit in almost all social/cultural contexts, he's been stripped of all titles since like the 90's, he's being dropped (and looks like sued!) by all his former sponsors, he's gotta step down from livestrong foundation for the sake of it (not that it hasn't been dealt a huge blow by all of this - i'd hope it hasn't but imagine it has).....and he cannot even ride again - he is banned FOR LIFE.

Nice journey Lance, it's terrible it had to end like this - at least it was all good b4 this bullshit started.

LIVESTRONG
A continuation...

To convert to Iglesia ni Cristo, or "INC," one attends 27 one on one sessions with a pastor in which one is taught (brainwashed) Church doctrine. Known as "Doctrine" (how clever of them), these lessons cover the whole gamut from soup to nuts. One is first taught how 1st Century Christianity quickly apostacised from the "Original Church" introduced by none other than Christ Jesus. The pastor discusses how Catholicism is the creed most responsible for this apostacy and a bunch of other similar subjects.

At about the 10th lesson they start teaching about the founder of the cult, Felix Y. Manalo and how he is the last of the celestial messengers and how only through his teachings can one survive the impending Apocalypse. I'm always curious about how cultists rationalise failed past predictions of impending doom. Having been founded in the same era as the Jeh-vah Witnesses, Manalo adopted that cult's millenialist claptrap and even adopted the predicted year of 1914 as the year in which the world would end. Of course we are still here but at the time new adherants were so taken up with the talk of hellfire, hail and brimstone that they sold all possesions and waited atop roofs and trees for the predicted Rapture to sweep them up to the Heavenly Kingdom. It is a miracle that such cults manage to survive those failed predictions, but then cultists are not the most rational of creatures.

At the 27th lesson the pastor will schedule your Baptism, which like many Pentecostal Churches involves actual immersion and not just a sprinkling on the forehead. After Baptism one is then a full fledged member of the cult. As Mariz's father and I discussed the issue I made it quite clear that I am firm in my beliefs and not searching for a new outlook. I told him that conversion for the sake of marriage isn't something I had ever considered and that I view it as a disgusting capitulation of will, integrity, and values.

Interestingly, I would come to discover that the INC abhors such conversions and will not allow anyone to convert simply for the sake of marriage. Why then did Mariz's father, a pastor himself, push the issue? I told the pastor that I could not see myself ever even considering such a thing, and about how countless Jews have died rather than convert. I even told him about Isaac Lopes. During the Spanish Inquisition Spain Ethnically Cleansed itself of all Jews. On one ship heading to Asia was a 17 year old Jew named Isaac Lopes. Stopping in the Balearic Islands to take on supplies the ship was overtaken by zealous Catholics who dragged all Jews to the square of the largest town. They were offered conversion or death. Most converted- even if only a token conversion. However, Isaac- on principle- refused and because of it was burned at the stake.

At the end, Mariz's father and I agreed to put the issue on hold for the moment and to re-consider it at a later juncture. Breathing a sigh of relief I re-joined Mariz's family in the "sala" (parlour/living room) and continued watching DVDs. After supper I excused myself and took my leave. Guests are considered extremely important, how much more so if the guest is a potential son in law? If I had stayed in the sala the family would not go to sleep as they normally would have and I didn't want to impose upon their hospitality.

At around 10PM I saw the doorknob on the door of the guesthouse begin to turn, as if someone were trying to jimmy the door. Luzon is nothing at all like Mindanao. At home in Mindanao I keep an M653 (mini-M16) on my nightstand, safety off. On Luzon I do not even carry a pistol. Still, the first thing crossing my mind was a kidnapping attempt. I called out loudly, "What do you want?" In response I heard Mariz loudly whisper, "Shhhhh! It's me!" I quickly unlocked the door and asked her if everything was OK. To my suprise she just as quickly sidestepped me and entered the guesthouse. As I have mentioned before, being alone before marriage is verboten and in some cases can cost an unfortunate man his life.

Not long ago in Manila, two teams of neighbourhood boys were playing a game of basketball, the Philippine national sport. As games sometimes do, the match became violent and the two teams pummled each other. The team on the losing end consisted of INC members. The INC team left the court with their tails between their legs but soon returned with a couple of vans full of armed men. The INC members kidnapped 3 members of the winning team and placed them in the basement of their church as Easter festivities took place above them. Just by chance, a middle-aged woman had just left the church and saw the 3 men being dragged into the basement via a side entrance.

Waiting for her ride, the woman heard horrendous screams coming from the basement and decided to report what she had seen and heard to the Church's pastor. Counseled to "just forget it" the woman went above his head and reported the incident to the Church hierarchy in Metro Manila's Quezon City. To make a long story short (is this even possible with Rachamim?), the 3 kidnap victims had been tortured with a battery charger on their genitals and an oxy-acetylene blowtorch to various parts of their bodies. They were then placed unconscious into burlap sacks which were then secured, and summarily tossed into a river where they drowned. The point being that the INC is NOT an organisation to trifle with.

With this on my mind I turned to face Mariz only to find her sitting on a sofa with a shy smile. Hmmmm, what to do?...

To be continued...
A continuation...

On September 3rd, when I should have been serenading Lovely on her 23rd birthday on the beach outside her window I was en route to Zambales Province to spend 4 days in the Iglesia ni Cristo compound (Church of Christ, a homegrown cult). I was keenly aware of being targetted for conversion but was trying to get Lovely out of my mind and what better way than another girl- even IF she is a demented cultist hahaha.

I took a commuter bus which in the Philippines means sharing the bus with livestock (seriously) and all manner of people. In Mindanao busses are frequently bombed, grenade attacks or just mayhem from the barrel of an M16 (thanks Uncle Sam). In Central Luzon though the biggest danger is a catastrophic accident or a pickpocket- tame compared to Mindanao. Arriving in the municipality of Iba Mariz and her parents were there to pick me up from the bus station in their minivan and away I went down the rabbit hole weeeeeeee...

Stowing my overnight bag in the compound guesthouse I joined the family for a lunch of "lechon manok" (rotisserie chicken) and potatoe/egg salad and Sprite. One great thing about the Philippines is that softdrinks still come in glass bottles, and I have become addicted to Sprite though I won't touch it in any other nation. After I accompanied Mariz to her church choir practice, along with her mum and 9 year old sister Mickey who sings in the childrens' choir. I didn't realise it at the time but accompanying them was, in her co-religionists' eyes, a proclamation of sorts, telling them that Mariz and I were an item. All the giggling was a bit strange but that is the same no matter who you are around in the Philippines. Filipinas are so naïve, or innocent depending upon your perspective, but it can be misleading. In some ways they are just as "fast" as their Western counterparts.

A lot, maybe most Western men have this idea that Filipinas are submissive and only aspire to serve you a sixpack on their knees while blowing you. In reality? I have never met a submissive Filipina. Sure, they will not normally disagree but that is only because culturally Filipinos as a whole hate direct confrontation. They will nod their heads yes but that "yes" means absolutely nothing. Filipinas have a custom called "Tampo," or "Magtampo," which has no English translation but is akin to a 5 year old child sulking. She will act childish and refuse to talk for several hours unless begged and cajoled. This is how almost all Filipinas express displeasure and if you aren't willing to play the game you will not have a sucessful relationship. Basically, that is the cliffnote version of why Rizza and I imploded. I would ignore her when she got Tampo with me. I don't kiss ass very well.

It is also true that you will hardly ever hear a Filipina scream in anger though they CAN be acidic like the bitchiest Western girl given the right situation, just with a calm voice. Another disconcerting fact of life for a Western man with a Filipina lover is the disparity in standards of living. In virtually all Western/Filipina relationships the Western man will be much better off financially. This translates into not only fully supporting the lover but often times her family as well. When the relationship begins the man is expected to court the family as well as the woman and this involves gift giving, or "Pasalubong."

At lunch, before choir practice, I had gifted Mariz's mum with a small Chanel no. 5, and her father with a Seiko watch. Mickey got a Hello Kitty watch with the thick band which is mad popular amongst Filipino kids and teens now. I gave her parents a special camera to give to 17 year old Mia who is studying Mass Communications at the Church university, New Era in Metro Manila's Quezon City. For 23 year old MJ, my mate's girlfriend, I left an Ipod and a Samsung Galaxy cellphone, since she was responsible for introducing Mariz and I. In the future one boquet of flowers and take away food is sufficient.

Western men mistake such things as "buying love," you aren't. You are taking part in an ancient custom. Some of the more primitive tribes in the Philippines give spears and swords to the men folk and cooking implements and cloth to the women. I am lucky, or WAS lucky in my marriage because Rizza comes from a rich family. Before I married her she was vacationing in Gstaad and Zurich. I never HAD to give a thing though I did invest in joint business ventures with her parents. I am very fortunate to have married into a great family even if the marriage disintegrated.

In any event, after choir we retired to the "sala" (parlour/living room) to watch DVDs which is basically all we could do at that point, every second accompanied by her mum and 9 year old Mickey. When Mariz's father arrived home he and I had one of those uncomfortable "man to man" talks. I am the father of 2 daughters (and 4 living sons) so I know how distasteful it can be initially speaking seriously with a man who wants to fuck your daughter can be. The man is always kissing your ass, ready to sell his right nut to get your approval just to help ease your virgin daughter's panties off.

Luckily my younger daughter is only 14 (she is my youngest child, at least for now). One presumes she is chaste and since she lives in rural Mexico I do think it is a fair assumption. My eldest daughter is 23 and an officer in the IDF, an equivalent to a 1st Lieutenant and a Platoon Commander in the world's only fully co-ed Infantry Battalion, "Caracal." The battalion was sublimated to my brigade, NACHAL (Nahal) so that until my retirement in 2007 I kept close tabs on her. That year I married her off in an Arranged Marriage per our custom to a Senior Officer in Sayeret Golani, an Infantry Special Forces Battalion. I knew the man since the late 1990s. My son in law is a good man, 34 years old. My daughter could have gotten a discharge having married but was, like myself and one of her brothers, aiming for a military career.

So we had that distinctly unpleasurable conversation about my "intentions." Basically, I was told it is marriage or nothing, and IF it was marriage I have to convert. I am as amenable to conversion as I am to getting a swastika tattooed on my forehead...

To be continued...
So I ended up smoking marijuana again last night. Friends conviced me to do it again. The last time I smoked before was December, 2011, not a good experience.
I started feeling anxiety as soon as I let the smoke from the last drag out. I had a canteen full of vodka (6 liq.oz / 180ml), I drank it all in less than one minute to calm myself and it worked. Later I also drunk some beers (dont remember how much).
I blacked out for, like, 80% of the time. When I got home I fell to the ground due to extreme diziness and I vomited a couple of times. Then I passed out.
It was exactly like the last time. Looks like weed is really not for me.

Now 24 hours later I still feel like the THC is still in my organism. I feel retarded, groggy, despersonalized, fatigued.
The interior may never be clean again but the exterior can be...

What does that mean?

I guess I'll never be cleansed of my sins but a girl has got to try, right?
So I have this crazy feeling again. It is the feeling that my whole life is a lie, I'm a big phony, I have no friends, no one really knows me (not even parents or family), that God put me on the 'wrong spot' on this Earth, 'what the hell am I doing here', might as well just leave for somewhere else no one's gonna miss me anyway, I'm a fake, everything I do or say is dishonest...etc

I would just try to shove this feeling away from my counsciousness but it is so true, so pure.
If you're reading this, you may as well stop now because this will probably read more like a personal journal than a public blog.

Anyways, ever since uni ended and i stopped wrestling, my endurance/cardio system has sucked. I'm almost 30 and have smoked for about a decade. I'd never cared much until a couple years ago - i always had strength and a six-pack, so i just paid lip service to cardio and never really gave a shit about true "health", only "looking healthy". As i become an old man i find that i have the same desire for "actual" health as i used to for "looking healthy".

About a year ago i started toying with long(er)-distance biking, and quickly decided i would compete at some point. through the past year the focus went from biking to triathlon (swim/bike/run), and i decided I WOULD do a triathlon at "some point". Very recently, maybe a month ago, i decided for sure i would do a triathlon soon (ie sometime in 2012), and i found out which one is my target/aim. I finally spoke of this commitment to someone last night, and goddamn does it feel real now!!

That said, this will be a mashed-up blog of training entries, and the generic garbage i used to post as facebook statuses(sp?) (i "quit" facebooking earlier this year lol).


EVENT:
RACE FOR THE BOOTY TRIATHLON (LoL)
Manatee State Park, FL
Race is:
Swim 0.2mi; Bike 20mi; Run 2.0mi
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