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16 yrs old... drank, had sex, did some drugs for the first time..... and joined bluelight
17 yrs old... first trip to rehab ( mostly due to my parents being freaked i was doing cocaine....also graduated highschool
18 yrs old... started community college and moved from indiana to florida
19 yrs old... began iv drug use and 2nd trip to rehab + first trip to detox
20 yrs old... began suboxone maintenance
21 yrs old... college
22 yrs old... went to detox due to close friend overdosing and my own loss of control of iv habit then was taken off suboxone, benzos, amphetamines.... it was fucking horrible i gained 30 pounds and eventually lost that weight... took me about 9 months to feel like myself
again... also moved to colorado which included excessive drinking and relapse........ and graduated from greenlighter to bluelighter after 6 years!
23 yrs old... get pregnant and clean move back to FL to finish school... and i will keep u updated..

Were all born into this river without knowing how to swim And eventually we learn how to keep this water under our chin Some times this river is so cold to be in Freezing my soul, solidifying my skin Regardless of how far I see, I never see my travels in Were carried by the current, being driven by the wind The scenery we pass, we'll never see again So we store it up as memories and don't let go of them Were under a spell thinking the river should go straight We set goals and desires to control our own fate But all the pain we experience as a result of our expectations Because it's the rivers nature to twist and turn The shit can burn And I know it I have the same conflict But I try to sit and flow with this rivers natural process And sometimes when I watch myself float downstream I see the beauty of it all, and it feels like a dream And at that time I appreciate the rivers course Some part of God, reality, momentum, force I stare up at the naked moon, and she stares down at me Outside false boundaries and (I'll look outward to see)? The universe is not something separate from yourself I know you feel alone, but that's why I'm here to help I know you feel alone, but just look up at the stars And everything that is out there is what you really are


We gotta learn to see the beauty in each moment of life Everyone has different pasts and we're seeking the light The world is divided between peasants and kings But the truth is everyone is looking for the same thing Now I want you to know The role you play is part of the whole Without you it couldn't be, and I mean that with compassion So if you need anything, I mean anything at all I'm here for you; all you gotta do is ask man I'm here for you, in the same way that you're here for me Each person in an intricate piece of infinite I feel that if you could see what I see Then we as humanity could be free I'm here for you, not for any self centered reasons Because existence is interdependent and all related, Connected in its different manifestations of one single mind You ain't isolated from the world even though it feels like that sometimes


I see the hurt when I look into your eyes How you struggle to hold it and keep in bundled inside It drives a dull blade deep in my heart; it makes me want to cry So I offer you a hand to help wash away the rainy skies I'm running out of words, but I haven't yet made my message clear So if none of this makes sense, I just want you to know I'm here As a musician, as a friend, as a teacher, as a student To grow and realize everything is in constant movement Each problem that we face is just a part of this movement It seems helpless, but if we stick together we'll get through it And return to the essence from which we've been uprooted And wake humanity from these illusions The second you can look into the sky and see your own reflection You know your head is in the right direction The river riding always moves, but with it I live And everything is perfect, just the way it is


We gotta learn to see the beauty in each moment of life Everyone has different pasts and we're seeking the light The world is divided between peasants and kings But the truth is everyone is looking for the same thing Now I want you to know The role you play is part of the whole Without you it couldn't be, and I mean that with compassion So if you need anything, I mean anything at all I'm here for you; all you gotta do is ask man I'm here for you; all you gotta do is ask man I'm here for you; all you gotta do is ask man

i recently read an old post of mine saying it wasnt that hard to stay safe using iv drugs.... and now guess who has hep c much to my surprise....
ps... i know i post alot about being preg and having hep c but these are two very big parts of my life right now!
... before getting pregnant i used to party and get fucked up way crazier than my bf but now... i dont party at all and he doesnt really party but he still comes home drunk once or twice every couple weeks and it really upsets me! he knows this and i think is actually having a difficult time not drinking and i am getting frustrated but he literally helped save me and he is a great guy sober
tomorow will be 17 weeks!

I know this pedo. Should I cut off my friendship with him? He just fantasizes about little pre-pubescent girls. This is not a joke.

Oh and I can't stop thinking about pedos, it's like an obsession. How can I stop this?

Formulated just as quickly as Plan A, was Plan B. Cats have got names right? I will count the cats as I bring them up and remember the name of each cat so that I don’t lose track like the last time. BRILIANT!!! I thump back down the stairs and grab Funchee, the black one, and take him up stairs. He quickly tries to run back down and I push him back and close the door. Back down stairs I grab another cat. “Sammie…number 2”, I think as I put her up stairs and close the door behind me.

At this point my mind is worn out. Things are moving very well and walls have waves in them and on them. It is all but impossible to keep my mind on the task at hand. Those 2 things, coupled with the fact that the time dilation is making the last 5 minutes chasing these beasts feel like I have been at it for hours, is making this fool’s errand about as much as my brain could handle in its current state. I trudge on trying to complete this task and grab another cat but again at the top of the stairs I forgot where I was in the order. I put that cat up stairs and tried to count the cats up there to give me an idea of how many were left. But of course, they are not in the kitchen anymore. And again it escapes me that if I just keep bring up cats until I run out of cats to retrieve I will be through with this cluster fuck.

Unable to think pass my current predicament, I race around up stairs looking for the cats that had been brought up and they are nowhere to be found. My state had grown worse and I start thinking that maybe they got outside. But there was no way they could get out because no one opened the……..DOOOOOOR!!!!!....... The DOOOOOOOR!!!!! I forgot the close the basement door. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!!!!!

Ran back into the kitchen and down the stairs for the 50 quadrillionth time and BAM….there they were all 5 of them… Safe and sound. I had found the missing cats. Hallelujah!! They weren’t outside…my wife would have killed me if they were gone. Me, all high and shit and the cats go missing? I might as well pack my shit and go! What a relief! I love my kitties! *kiss * *kiss* *kiss*…..wait! Are we still in the basement?!?!?! FUCKING COCK SUCKING SON OF A BITCH MOTHER DAMN SHIT HELL……

I am done. My mental ability is gone. Each trip up and down felt like an eternity, I had only just enough energy left to get up stairs to the couch. I kneel by the couch and think about what I am going to do. I am mentally exhausted because apparently, counting to 5 is impossible while on mushrooms. My mind racing to come up with a solution to this impossible problem and never once did I think of just leaving them down there until they found something more entertaining to do than drive me out of my fucking mind.
The white flag was up. It was over. I needed the big gun. It was 2 or 3am, and she had to get up and go to work in the morning but I had no choice...I needed an adult. I have to wake my wife. She would make it all better. She will tame those damn hellions and all will be fine......but it wasn’t fine.

I went up stairs to our room and woke her in the gentlest way possible. By jumping on the bed and yelling “help!! I took mushrooms!!!5 cats in the basement and I can only count to 4.” Not the way I had envisioned it going down in my head but I was happy to get that much out without forgetting the reason I woke her up In the first place.
Sleepily she marched down the stairs and I lead her to the kitchen where the basement door was still wide open. All I could do was stand at the door and point down the stairs. I think I may have whimpered a little too with my gesture. She was not amused! I thought I was finally going to get closure. She would get the cats from the basement and I would be saved but NOOOO…..my savior turn to tormentor as she said the only words in the word that could crush me into an even more pitiful state. “well…Go get ‘em” she said. She didn’t understand that I was fighting this fight for what seemed like days now and wanted nothing more than to curl up in the corner and cry until I fell asleep.

She had no clue how close I was to a break down. Tears welled up as crossed the threshold of the basement door and descended again into my personal hell. I scooped up a kitty and carried it slowly up stairs setting it on the kitchen floor. One, my wife said in a long drawn out voice like she was talking to a 2 year old. Back down I went and grab up another “bundle of joy” and slinked up the stairs only to be shamed again by a long drawn out 2. By the third cat, short audible “poo, poo” sounds were coming from me as I was almost to the breaking point. My wife had begun to laugh at me and seemed to laugh harder each time I came up even more beaten than before. When the last cat came up I was greeted by a sighing “5” and a “now was that so hard” from my wife. I tried to apologize but she waved me off with a stern “we’ll talk about this in the morning” and walked up stairs to bed.

The cat ordeal was over but the trip was far from it. I was immensely gratefull to my chat buddies who talked me into halfing the dose because the rest of the night was filled with confusion and mind fuckery and intense time dilation. Not really a bad trip as bad trips go, but not at all enjoyable. I think I can cross mushies off the list of viable boredom relievers. I won’t be doing them again anytime soon that is for sure.

Sooo I am out in durango Colorado. I had to get away from all the bs in Miami. There is def not a whole lot of trouble for me to get into here.
I really don't think there r even any illegal drugs here barely specially considering weed is mostly legal
I must admit tho I have been feeling some very real cravings I want to shoot up
I think it's all part of an I want what I can't have mentality
There is a guy in Miami I still think bout and he doesn't reallyeven like me back anymore
I am also a lil lonely out here I don't know many people so it's not easy at the moment
One thing I really like tho is I can stop pretending out here when I was at the the 3/4 way house I had to go to all those meetings which I hated and act like I really cared about that stuff and believed in it
Now here at least i can have a drink or two at night and the thing is I don't take it too far it's not like once I have one drink I have to get wasted and I really think I would feel those cravings either way
Also I am considering staying out here more long term possibly attending fort Lewis college which is a bit strange considering I was only 12 credits away from graduating U of Miami but it may be healthier and safer

Now, this happened more than a year ago so the details may be a bit fuzzy. It was April when I started this journey. During the winter I became a member of the shroomery.com forum and was learning all I could about going magic mushrooms. I tried it once before and grew only a yellowish green mush that smelled of sweaty socks but this time would be different. I had a spore print sent to me and was off to the races.

I had tried mushrooms once before about 10 years prior and the experience was rather enjoyable. I have had way too many bad experiences with LSD to ever think about trying it and from what I remembered the mushroom experience was much less chaotic and harsh for me than the majority of my acid trips had been. After following every tip I could gather and about a month and a half of waiting, I have viable mushrooms drying in the food dehydrator.

The whole journey, from spore print to fruit, was done for reasons I don’t yet have a great grasp on. I was thinking at the time that growing them would impart some spiritual meaning into my experience. It had been a long, long time since I had taken any illegal substance and I wanted it to be special in some way. Growing them myself was an attempt at providing that, I guess.
The night I took them I really wasn’t planning on doing so. I was borde out of my wits and chatting with on-line friends. I told them I was going to eat my mushrooms but didn’t know how much to eat without a scale. I took a few pics of my intended dose and posted them and immediately got advice to cut that dose in half. So, with my wife asleep, I went down to the kitchen and made a concoction of purple slushy and powered mushrooms and gulped it down. I came back up and told the chatters that the deal was done and that I was taking shower and would be back once the fun started.

In the shower about 5 minutes when I felt a rush like I consciousness was being pulled away from my body. I was fighting to keep it with me. It felt as though is I had let it fly away I would have had a full out of body experience but for some reason I felt compelled hold on to it. I quickly turned off the water and looked down at my feet. They seemed miles away. That is when it hit me that the shrooms were kicking in!

Out of the shower and I put on the same clothes I came in with and headed up stairs. The shower Is in the basement of the house and there is a door at the top of the stairs. Opening the door, the light from the kitchen blasted my eyes and I got a good gauge of how far along in the experience I was. I would see that the kitchen floor looked smooth and had a liquid like texture. But before I could survey any more my black cat ran down in the basement.

I didn’t want to forget about him down there and it never really thought that I could just leave the door open and shoo any members of our herd that wandered down there after my trip. I trudged down the stairs after him and scooped him up and started back up the stairs. Half way up, a brown blur flew down the stairs as another cat dove to the basement. I tossed the black one in the kitchen and went after the brown one. While s picking up brown one, the black cat came back down the steps again and I scooped him up too. Now I am carrying 2 cats up the stairs.

At the top of the stairs, the door is wide open and I see our other 3 cats had come to investigate the commotion. As I made the final push to the top they all jumped into action like they planned it in advance. I started laughing hysterically, let go of the cats in my arms and sat on the top step as I watched all the cats bounce down the stairs. I found the whole situation so funny. Here I am coming up hard on mushrooms. I can feel the confusion building every second and now I have to figure a way of getting all 5 cats out of the basement.

By the time I had collected myself and devised a plan my face was hot and objects were starting to move. The time dilation had manifested and minutes were seeming to take longer and longer. My plan was to go down and capture one cat at a time and usher them up stairs. Once I got to five. I raced down and grabbed the first cat I came across. And ran to the up to the landing and toss it, pretty forcefully, up the last 3 steps into the kitchen so it would get the point that I didn’t want them down there. Back down I went and did the same thing…that’s 2 down and 3 to go. I was getting more confused by the minute and on the fourth cat…..I had forgot how many cats I had previously ushered up the stairs. *face palm*

On my way back down I decided to count the cats down stairs and that would let me know how many were upstairs. Unfortunately, the whole time I had neglected one key detail in my foolproof plan….The door was still open. Just as I reach the basement floor, the whole heard can stampeding down again. Plan A was an utter failure.

Spring light's shine through the train windows, and long shadows jet out upon the Gowanus Canal, turning the industrial wasteland into something exciting and beautiful. I can smell a fresh scent in the air, even through all the pollution and haze, and though I feel so damn lethargic, I get this great sense that something new is coming. It effects the way I walk. It effects the way I talk, like I've grown wings, Red Bull style. As I exit the platform, and leave the station, i see the people walking about the city, their legs swinging back and forth in unison. It's as if they're all tiny pieces to an elaborate steam powered machine. It's so strange, and so horrifying.

I leave my outpatient shaking with anger. The blood is pulsing so hard through my arteries, that I can feel them contracting and releasing, reluctantly feeding oxygen into my extremities-if that is what they do. I get out of the train again, and cough up some mucous that had been festering in my bronchials and spit it out on the ground. I head up ninth street, not paying any mind to the moonlit concrete, 'cause I'm not looking for peace. I have to bite my tongue, and pacify my fingers with a ciggarette so I dont send out erratic hate filled text messages, I throw my phone into my pocket and speed up my pace. I walk along prospect park west and move against the traffic, the idea that my purest form of self only exists digitally, and on a few crumpled up peices of paper begins to bother me. Finally, I reach Flatbush. The cheap restaurants and neon lit store fronts seem to bring a calm over me, and though at that moment I realize I hate my parents, I dont mind, because there is so much to be distracted by.

I wake up this morning, and head once again into the city for school. I walk along the side of my campus and stare into the vacant eyes of other privelaged, jaded, students. I imagine myself, as if in some foreign film, screaming at the top of my lungs "DONT YOU SEE? I AM YOUR KING, CRUCIFY ME! ". But then I laugh to myself, cause I'm just so fucking clever

My mom just called. My Uncle Bill just passed away. He was really bad with Alzheimers, but he and my aunt Margaret, (my mother's last surviving sister) had been married for 64 years. He was a bad ass motherfucker too. Trouble on tw0 legs and a hoot to be around. My mom's kin all come from up in a holler in the mountains of Virginia. I always knew it as "Sandy Ridge" but I doubt it's even on a map now. My grandfather and his father too, well fuckin everybody, grew tobacco. My grandfather and my uncles made shine. After the Vietnam war, my uncles grew weed with the tobacco. They weren't hippies tho... they were all good with a gun and protected what was theirs mercilessly. (I saw my uncle Cammel shoot and kill a dog just walking by, because it was walking by.)

Funny, they don't like to talk about it. In the summers of 2009 and 2010 I went to Florida where my uncle Jerry, uncle Gracen, and uncle Demma live. Demma was Bills illegitimate son by my aunt Flo. Bill was already married to my aunt Margaret when Flo came up pregnant. She was a teenager. She had the baby and my grandma and grandpa said it was theirs. Flo wouldn't discuss paternity and would tell you to mind your own fucking business if you asked her twice.

I thought Demma was really one of my mom's brothers. He is actually my mom's nephew. As Demma got older and older, it became just painfully obvious that Bill was his father. OMG. Margaret and Bill had moved up to Michigan and started a family and Demma didn't see Bill except like once a year at the family reunion. But Christ, Demma was shaped just like Bill, was a mirror image of Bill's facial features except Demma got Flo's red curly hair. All my kin in Virginia are/were tall and thin with red curly hair. Bill was from Kentucky. He was short and stumpy, walked stiffly, and had large eyeballs. Demma is just like that! As adults they both looked like hobbits and whispers started to surface.

Flo never spoke of it. Hillbillies, at least all the ones I've known and loved during my lifetime, do not tell their secrets. My parents had moved us to California, but we went back to Virginia almost every summer during my whole childhood. My cousins and I ALL gave Cammel a wide berth. We fucking knew he wasn't right. If he offered one of us a cold soda (which was an extremely rare thing to find, since electricity didn't come to the that holler until 1980) we would in NO WAY get close enough to him to take the soda! Well, guess what? uncle Cammel did time for molesting his own daughters, from when they were three years old. Guess what else? I nor my cousins were surprised. But we never said a word about him to anyone. We just kept away from the sick fuck. Nobody had to warn us. I don't know how, but we taught each other without any details. Some of us didn't have the vocabulary to explain one goddamm thing but none of us got near him. We did not tell anyone anything about him. Hillbillies do not talk shit on their own kin. SO Flo never said who Demma's dad was, and she died drunk driving.

Now Bill is gone, and he never acknowledged that he was Demma's dad. I am sure he would have denied it if confronted about it, because he would never admit to Margaret that he slept with her sister. Hillbillies will not tell on each other and they don't like the law at all, but they are bad about fucking. They are the randiest group of human beings you could ever want to meet, or avoid, whatever. My grandma had 11 kids in 10 years. Children born in their house built of boards and flour paste and newspaper with an outhouse down the path a ways. The house had no running water but there was a creek nearby. The stove in the kitchen burned wood all day every day and my grandma cooked a lot whenever I was there, because all her kids came home every summer and brought their families.

It seems so strange to me. I loved my grandmother and grandfather. I loved the smell of the curing house where the tobacco hung after harvested. I loved to hear my grandpa play banjo and sing. Even though I grew up in southern California, I thought Virginia was fantastic. I could leave the house in the morning with my cousin Jen and we could stay gone all day. We drank from creeks, which were abundant. We ate berries. It is almost impossible to believe that my precious grandparents lived the way their parents did, and the way their parents did, right there on Sandy Ridge, since before the Civil war. An indentured Irishman got land there after a stint in New York during which time he married an English girl. I guess the move down to Virginia included family from both sides and a few stragglers, plus a misplaced native american woman. I saw a really old, faded picture of her at about 90 years of age. She was strong. They all were strong. I can't imagine going on a wagon ride for days just to get to where you are going and have to clear the fucking forest! Clear it they did. Acres and acres of thick forest, trees hand felled one by one. Houses built and outhouse pits dug. All of that was happening and the people were having 14 and 15 kids. More hands make light work? My great grandma was a midwife. She assisted her daughters and daughters in law during childbirth. If nothing else, she had a lot of experience with her own 12 kids. I guess as time passed and she became the eldest matriarch she'd be obliged to assume the role of midwife, would she not?

ah shit. I need to stop writing and go pee. I wonder if I will continue this, or delete it, or just leave it alone.

My mom has come to my home to be here for my daughter's baby shower. I have been having to take care of her. She never makes it to the potty on time. She stumbles. She's weak. She can't get up or down by herself. She's had a lot of health problems and she has a lot of pain.

That being said, she takes so many pills I don't understand how her doctors allow her all these meds. Oxycodone, hydrocodone, methadone, plus benzos lorazapam and xanax, plus ambien when is a hypnotic on her.

And she drinks a couple of bottles of wine every day with her meds.

Right now she is asleep next to me. Passed out cold. She gets fucked up to the max every day. She walks and talks and acts out scenes from something, I don't know what, late at night.

Thisi is the last time she will be in my home. My kids have all been hugging her and being loving... we all know it's the last time she'll be with us all together. She knows it too and she made me drive us past our old house, where I grew up. I knew she wanted to see it for the last time. She often has tears in her eyes because she knows this trip has proven to all of us, the whole family, that she can't travel anymore. In fact she needs a caretaker. I don't know about any of that stuff.

The baby shower is Saturday and I will be driving her home to nor cali Saturday night after the shower. I have to drive home Sunday because I have to be to work Mon morn. It is such a mournful sight... her back curving over, her stumbling walk, her confusion.

Her confusion is most disconcerting. She doesn't know how to count anymore. She counts her money, then puts away and then counts again 6 more times, mumbling to herself the whole time. She can't remember my kids or my sister's daughter's names. Her confusion is getting a bit worse with the passing of the weeks.

All I know for sure is that I'm losing her. She's here now but it won't be very long... I don't know what it feels like to lose a parent. I wonder how I'll find my through this labyrinth of loss.

I didn't realise I posted blogs here almost 2 years ago. I thought things would get better with time, but no. I wish I knew why I was like this. Well, I think I know but it doesn't help me.. but maybe I need to find the route cause..

I'm so tired. Slept for sn hour and a half in the last 48 hours.

God I wish I had more drugs. Wait, no I don't, that's part of why I feel so shit. I don't know what to do. The one thing I love, which makes me feel good, which I can truist on, which just let me be happy and ~be~ is fucking me up more and more.

I don't want to think about life sober, it's horrifying. Not having anything to hold back on.. I never dealt with my problems before, all I've done is go from one shit self destructive mechanism to another.

I don't feel like a person anymore. I guess that's what I wanted though- to block out emotions, but now -- ??! Argh I can't explain/ put into words. I just wish I had an off sleep, that I could go back and bitch slap the younger me, or go back before then and just be someone happy, sober, healthy, with a good conscience, not guilty, anxiety free, with a strong sense of identity and self acceptance. All I feel is anxiety or that depressiing nothingness. No natural happiness. I know I need to stop bitching, but I don't understand what the fuck I want/ feel. This sort of helps.. I can start to rationalise obvious depressive/ negative thinking, unblock stuff by forcing myself to put things into words. It doesn't help though. But i guess it does.

Saying I don't feel anything is a lie, before I just broke down and cried- I guess that means I'm not a psychopath. Woooohooo.

I think maybe I should man the fuck up, book an appointment with this substance abuse support place close by. And fucking just get out of the house and do something meaningful. I'm such an ungrateful person. Either I try and change things now, or just give up. Im sick of being in the middle. I need to choose a side, instead of being in limbo.

A continuation...

In addition to that tired mantra of "You never loved me" Lovely began blaming me for the July 6th breakup. "Raki, you know it was YOUR fault."

Rachamim: "How was it MY fault?"

Lovely: "You are a Chickboy (Filipino English for "Ladies Man)!"

Rachamim: "I was faithful and I never even had a female friend while we were together. Please stop making excuses. You are the one who walked away but is it really important now? What is your point here? Just to stick the blame somewhere? To get a clean conscience?"

Lovely: "Raki, you played with Jackielou, with Joysa, with Mai (one I haven't discussed here), and you expect me to believe that you weren't playing WITH me?"

Rachamim: "Jackielou? You know the story. The girl was a compulsive liar. She said she was seperated, she wasn't. She said she had only two kids, hiding her infant son every time I went to her camp (she lives on an army base). She pretended her sister's home was her own! She took money I gave her and blew it on bullshit! "

"Joysa? Joysa admitted to you that she was doing cam shows for foreigners (I don't believe I mentioned THAT nugget)! She was finessing me for a visa and cash, fuck that lowlife and her family of whores!"

Mai is a girl I know from Davao City but who now lives in Makati. I hadn't seen her since 2002 when she was Rizza's friend. In 2011 she contacted me online but- Thank G-D- I never tried to see her in Makati. Online I discovered a tonne of nasty shit about her and just stopped communicating which led to her stalking me on Facebook hahaha, such bullshit drama. Lovely contacted her as well as Jackielou and Joysa. Filipinas have this terrible habit of needing to talk to all recent exes. Obstensibly it is to "get closure" but it is actually about rubbing it in the exe's wounds.

"Mai? Mai, the girl who edited her photos to portray herself as a petite alabaster skinned beauty but who looks like an American mullatoe and stands 5'8"? Riiiight! Oh, let us not forget the bulk email with hot photos she was sending around the world haha, or the India in Malaysia who ran up a $10,000 phone bill jerking off with her!"

"Get a grip Lovely. You know what? I do not need this shit! I'm in Makati! That's right, here to suprise you on your birthday despite my ulcer and poor eyesight resulting from the Sepsis you precipitated with your nonsense! Goodbye!!!"

Needless to say I didn't go see Lovely. Two days later, invited back up to Zambales, I was sitting in Mariz's "sala" (parlour/livingroom) and wondering what was happening to me...

To be continued...

My writing seems to pour out when I am tired beyond tired. And after three 12 hour shifts pair with restless leg syndrome I am going on about 4 hours of sleep in the last 2 days and feel like writing another blog.
In recent news, a young girl died after drinking 2 monster energy drinks. Normally it would just be another blip in the endless tragedies that fill the news these days. But this one hit bit closer to home. If you read my other blog you would know that I am a former MDMA user. It’s been 12 years but and I have all but lost hope of ever getting to sample that lovely chemical again. And that girl’s story is another nail in the coffin of my dream of using MDMA again. I heard the story again today on the radio as I was going in to work. I tuned it out as I thought it was just another recap of what I already heard but a word in peaked my interest again. I heard the word “regurgitation” and began to listen intently.
I did not hear the exact heart problem the girl suffered from that, paired with an excessive amount of caffeine, caused her unfortunate demise but the only one I know that the word regurgitation fits with is mitral valve prolapse with regurgitation. Guess who has that, yours truly. So my MDMA dream is most possibly a death sentence.
Don’t get me wrong, I know taking drugs is inherently dangerous and I have been told by doctors that my condition can be aggravated by stims but this is the first hard evidence I have seen that it is possibly fatal to combine stimulants with MVP. Before now I believed that I could get away with taking reasonable amounts of MDMA in a controlled setting. I can exercise as much as I want. I use to drink A LOT of caffeinated drinks. So much so that the constant elevated sugar level was pushing my pancreas to its limit. I rarely drink them now just to avoid the sugar but after being away from them for a good long while I can feel my heart thumping hard and fluttering about. I get days where it dose that for no reason at all too so I suck it up and go on like it isn’t there.
Now with the recent outing of “The Silk Road” I finally have a way to get MDMA. When the news first broke about The Silk Road I saw some threads here saying it shouldn’t be trusted and that LEOs would be all over it. I am sure that is the case but the 97% success rate of product deliveries and the fact that I am desperate to get molly makes me think that the risk is worth the reward. There are literally thousands of people on reddit telling of success and I think one more fish in the sea isn’t going to get noticed. I was in! I was getting money together and going to get bit coins and take a shot at it. Needless to say, with this little girl’s passing I have slight reservations now.
I still think I would be fine. I recently had a physical for a new job where the nurse practitioner was delighted to find out that I have MVP so that she could let her students listen. She jumped at the chance to listen to my heart through her stethoscope. She listened and listened and said she could barely hear the tell tail click that give away my hidden ailment. So apparently my case is milder than most. I can still drink caffeine without much more and a little discomfort at times but most of the time I don’t feel a thing. I smoke like a chimney and it’s the same way. Now these are mild stims at best and spread out throughout the day not a huge amount in one go. But taking MDMA is a whole other ballgame. The choice is mine to make. Take the risk with the Spector of that girl’s death looming in my mind or stay on the long, mundane, and boring road I have become accustom to? THE SUSPENCE BUILDS!

I wanted to change my password for this account.
Having forgotten which account it's attached to, I ended up going through every e-mail account I've had over the past five years.
But I couldn't remember the passwords to those.

Then I ended up coming across all sorts of happy messages between myself and various persons; certain people who "loved" (wanted something from) me were overseas, whilst others just liked sending e-mails, and so I saw preserved in their entirety some past version of myself, happy and smiling and holding someone in the photographs that were there.
Photographs of myself and various past lovers, all of the way back to the original - the first, the only, the one who suffered the most...

Life is ultimately not worth living when the past is full of love, of purity, naivete, sweet, harmless fun and kisses and the future is filled with dull, boring people, the world is drained of its colour like an old boiled sweet on the floor of a rusty car, the girls in those photos; M**** can no longer wear that cheer-leader costume because she's ten years older, a lot wider, and works in a laundromat with bags and wrinkles under and around her eyes. She never smiles anymore.lllllllllllllll

I look so happy in these photos, and I know it's not the drugs: they never made me happy (never made me unhappy) but on a long enough time-line, everyone's life turns to shit.

I've literally spent years attempting to help everyone. But people don't change. First question out of rehab is "Hey, *****, how can I shoot these Subutex?"
"Aren't you missing the point of being prescribed them?"
Then he died, too, of course.
People just die and leave you alone, or they live and leave you alone. Hurt and jaded and full of p Alone with a library full of all human knowledge - fine.
Maybe someone could tell me why people always make the exact same choices; "mistakes" in the eyes of others.

Weighing it up, life and death are equal.
Is suicide really a bad thing?

A continuation...

Lovely didn't miss a beat. She feigned innocence and cursed the "Scammers" who she said, had taken her photos and made that "fake profile."

It is funny...the other day in CE and P Forum the subject of Mariz came up and another poster took issue with the age difference, my being 45 and Mariz being barely 20. I asked if he thought it dirty or shameful and he said no, only that some older men take advantage of younger womens' naivete. I explained how different cultures have different standards of maturity and how Mariz is finishing her Masters, etc., etc. The point though, is that far from me manipulating a younger girl, I am far more vulnerable than most any 20 year old. My culture does not believe in romantic love, so when I first felt those strong emotions for Lovely I was like a teenaged boy.

When Lovely claimed to be innocent, I actually believed her hahaha. Then, as we spoke, I opened the second dating site, typed in Lovely's particulars once again...and...just as with the first site, up came two profiles. As with the first, one profile was unused for months. The second had photos she had just taken especially for me 4 days previously. I blew up. As we talked, and I accused her elder sister in Maryland of putting these new profiles online. As the conversation became heated that profile with the new photos disappeared right before my eyes! The timing was, as they say, impeccable.

At that point I knew Lovely either had messaged her eldest sister to remove it or else deleted it herself. The eldest sister, or "Ate" (Ah-tay) Sheryll, disliked me since January when she told me that if she wanted she could convince Lovely to drop me because of my status with Rizza. Granted, my being married doesn't make me the ideal mate but it really isn't unusual in a nation that has no divorce (making it one of only two on the planet, the other nation barring divorce being Malta). Sheryll seemed as if she was threatening me though her general tone was happy go lucky.

Naturally, as soon as Sheryll signed off I phoned Lovely and discussed the conversation with her. Lovely said that I shouldn't think anything of it since she was quite able to make up her own mind and old enough to do as she pleased. Then, without my knowing, she called Sheryll and told her everything I had said. From that day on Sheryll never again talked with me and though Lovely would sometimes tell me how happy her eldest sister was that Lovely had found me, I definitely felt otherwise and would eventually discover that I had been correct in my thinking.

It is funny how we fool ourselves and adapt our thinking so as to be able to accept whatever shit our special someone dishes out and so it was that I convinced myself that Sheryll had made those new dating profiles. Lovely would get sad when I would bring this up and insist it was scammers. I in turn insisted that Lovely contact both sites and complain about identity theft. Of course she yessed me to death and even gave me a phone number she insisted was that of the scammer responsible. I called it three times and probably caused some poor Filipina to get get her ass kicked by an insanely jealous husband if background noise is any indication.

Fast forward to April...Out of the blue Lovely broke up with me as construction began on the addition to her parents' home, the addition that was to be our home. At first I was dumbfounded but it quickly turned to relief that I hadn't finished the addition- better to break it off before getting neck deep in bullshit.

The very next afternoon Lovely phoned me and told me that she had just come from an afternoon mass and had realised while praying on the matter that she did in fact love me and couldn't stand to lose me. I accepted her back while mentally committing to scrapping the addition. She told me that her father had warned her that the following day there would be yet another one of the revolving blackouts that plague Mindanao- known in Mindanao as "brownouts"- and if so, she would message or call me in the afternoon or evening after the power came back on.

Sure enough, no Lovely the following day. I ended up calling the military base near her home, Camp Bancasi, to ask about local conditions and was told no brownout had occurred that day! Instead of calling one of her sisters or her parents- since Lovely wasn't answering her phone- I decided to try something else.

I opened a dating site, one that she hadn't had a profile on but one that is very popular with Bisaya women. Sure enough, as if by magic, her face popped up on people that were currently online. I wasn't even suprised. I immediately made a fake profile and used a model's photo haha. After messaging her she immediately viewed my "profile." She came back 3 times and I finally lost patience and messaged her thus: "Lovely, you know who this is and if you do not immediately sign onto YM and deal with this I'll be in Nasipit tomorrow handing out copies of those photos I took of you." Hahahahaha.

Immediately- of course- Lovely signed onto YM and took a long time between posts. I knew she was changing her passwords quickly so that I couldn't post those photos and ruin her life. The thing is, I would never do such a thing under any circumstances. I just needed to talk to her immediately so she couldn't once again claim scammers had stolen her identity.

As she took her time I re-examined her latest profile. Headlined "Looking for Love" and spouting certified bullshit about wanting to find her soulmate, the best part was when she wrote, "I hate liars and games. I am an honest girl." Hahahaha. I laugh now but at the time I was very deeply hurt of course. To cut to the chase, a month later I agreed to give it another go and that is what brought us to July and the final breakup, but not before I found 11 more new profiles...and she couldn't believe that I loved her? It is dangerous to read motivations into a lover's negative actions. I COULD believe her lack of self esteem led her to convince herself that I could not love her and therefore led her to keep one eye on the horizon- BUT I was building a home for us so why would she doubt my sincerityV...

To be continued...

You;ve treated me so well in the past, and more recently I've treated you so badly, I wonder is there a happy medium, is it worth one more shot, my instincts and all my friends and people who care say no, but it could be worth one more try. Maybe that is just the fiend in me talking.

Oh meph, I miss you and hate you and love you.

I love mdma ... but I should only use it once a month and I know this. In the past, I have used it more than once a month but I am *trying* to limit myself!

But I wish there was another club drug that actually worked for me.

I've tried other drugs but nothing is the same! Coke doesn't do much for me (I've tried it a couple times and I just haven't gotten much out of it). Ghb is only good if I take it with mdma. And ketamine is just not my thing ... I just don't like the effects. I've also tried some psychedelics but I can't do any of those in a "party" scene as I have ridiculous anxiety issues. I have tried two psychedelics at parties and, both times, I have gotten super anxious and I will just like sit in the corner the whole time, just scared of everything. I enjoy psychedelics but just outside in nature or something like that - and NOT with lots of people.

I know I have the option of going sober which I will likely be doing. I just love the culture and everything ... I dunno ... I wish I could find another club drug that would work for me!

edit

A continuation...

After breakfast Mariz's father had to travel to another town to conduct Saturday worship at a new congregation, or as the INC call them, "Locales" (low-Kalayz). As her mum puttered around the home we all sat around in the "sala" (parlour/living room) and MJ and my mate, Robert began telling me about how Robert was now well into the conversion process. I got the distinct feeling that this was particularly directed towards me because of Mariz.

Any Jew who spends any amount of time with non-Jews is well aware of how prostelysation is always around the corner. In the case of cults like the INC I was also aware that they sometimes use attractive women to seduce men into the fold. The American Hippie Christian cult, Children of G-D" were reknowned for this despicable practice which they called "Flirty Fishing." I wasn't aware of INC practices in this area but was immediately on guard with Mariz.

None of us could go anywhere because to be seen in public with either Robert or I would scandalise MJ, Mariz and their family as well as cost their father his position as pastor and their home and car since everything is owned by the Church. Therefore we spent the day watching DVDs and talking as I tried to stop nodding having taken my afternoon dose of morphine at lunch. When I'm active, even simply walking, I never nod. However, sitting in some strange cult's well guarded compound and making small talk led me into a struggle to stay lucid- a struggle I more often than not lost. Robert apologised on my behalf telling them "confidentially" that I had recently undergone "oral surgery."

After supper Robert, MJ and myself got our things together for the return trip to Manila. As I was walking to the SUV Mariz very shyly handed me an envelope and begged me not to read it until I was back in Manila. As her parents and younger sisters watched we said our chaste farewell and off I went on that 5 hour drive back to the capital.

Naturally, as soon as we were on the hiway I opened the envelope and to my suprise it was a poignant and heartfelt letter about how much she had enjoyed our short time together. She told me that she didn't always agree with her Church's teachings but like them or not, they forbade relationships between members and non-members. She realised that I would never consider conversion but she wanted me to know that she liked me a lot and really wished things were different. The letter's message wasn't a suprise of course.

Back in Makati, the section of Metro Manila where I sublet my studio, I began preparing for my suprise trip to Mindanao for Lovely's. 23rd birthday. Getting online-since Lovely believed that I was still back in the US- I sat down to chat with the birthday girl. Right away she started that same tired shit about how I never loved her, was just toying with her and would never truly be hers.

Now, in describing the breakup in that entry I deleted I mentioned how the situation was still too painful to talk about. The jist of all that is that back in February, while I was still primarily living in my home in Rizza's family compound, Lovely and I had been having a conversation on the phone in which she had asked me if I had ever cyber-dated. I told her that no, I had never tried that and then naturally asked her whether she herself had done so. Laughingly she told me how her eldest sister- the one married to the much older American and living in Maryland- had pushed her to do so and had even made two profiles for her but it was all months before I had met her at that gathering at her home.

I asked her if those dating profiles still existed and she replied that she had no idea but gave me the names of the two sites in case I wanted to check on it. After we hung up I went online and couldn't find her profile. I then searched using her particulars and much to my suprise found two profiles on that one site. As she had told me one profile was indeed unused for months. However, the second profile had been active 2 days prior and in several photos she was wearing outfits I had bought her!!! My head was spinning and I quickly phoned her.

To be continued...

Oh how I miss you my friend, my friend
Won't you open up your eyes and let me fly back in again
Oh how I need you my friend, my friend
to help me play it louder so no one misunderstands
Oh you oh you
Cause my friend, my friend
You know we never let the music end
Cause its our only hope
We've got no place left to go
Oh how I love you my friend, my friend
Won't you help me blow the clouds so it will never rain again
Don't be afraid of me, my friend
Say no don't be afraid of me, my friend
Say no don't be afraid of me, my friend
Yes i wonder why you wonder if I'll be there in the end
Yes i wonder yes i wonder yes i wonder why you wonder
yes i wonder ooo i wonder ooo i wonder ooo
Cause my friend, my friend
You know we never let the music end
Cause its our only hope
We've got no place left to go
Born of the brightest melody we need
Adapting to changes in the plan again
Cause my friend, my friend
You know we never let the music end
Cause its our only hope
We've got no place left to go
Yes i wonder yes i wonder yes i wonder why you wonder
yes i wonder ooo i wonder ooo i wonder ooo
Cause my friend, my friend
Born of the brightest melody we need
Adapting to changes in the plan my friend.

http://open.spotify.com/track/4ca15h3G0RxlpOPTGv75pq



this song gives me chills, but the warm and good kind, cant wait to see my best friend in the entire world this friday

A continuation...

Mariz was definitely interested in me and against better judgement I found myself attracted to her as well. Personality is a big turn on for me and she was inquisitive, highly intelligent and pretty, though not my usual type. What is Rachamim's "usual type" you ask? I prefer very short girls, 4'8" to 4'11- Mariz is 5'4". I prefer girls who are very well endowed- Mariz looked like a stick figure, in other words, a typical Filipina. I prefer dark complexioned girls- Mariz has alabaster skin. Yet, I found her pretty in an unusual way.

Of course, as we sat in the "sala" (parlour/living room), the subject of my religion came up. This is a given seeing as how Mariz's father is- as I mentioned in the preceding post- a pastor in the Iglesia ni Cristo, a Filipino Christian denomination or cult, depending upon one's perception (I cotton towards "cult" myself). Iglesia ni Cristo, formerly Iglesia ng Kristo, was founded by an apostate Catholic in 1914 and requires blind and total obedience to its doctrine and its clergy, never a good thing in any religion. One must attend services twice weekly, Saturday or Sunday morning, and Wednesday or Thursday evenings. The difference in days relates to some areas suffering from a shortage of pastors thus requiring those serving to perform double duty in 2 congregations.

Members have a form like a time card that must be initialled by a pastor or deacon at each service to verify attendance and those who have missed however many services must make a "voluntary donation" or else be barred from full participation. Seeing as how adherants believe the Church to be their only road to salvation, and how they believe in a unique variation of the Rapture, this ostracisation can terrify adherants so that naturally they will even mortgage property to get into the Church's good graces again.

Girls do not have relationships with non-members and are virgins until marriage. If a member's daughter were to be seen talking at length to any boy-alone- not belonging to the Church the girl would be ostracised. Her family can have nothing whatsoever to do with her lest they too fall out of disfavour and become ostracised themselves.

This of course was something I was already well aware of since the Church is the fastest growing religion in the Philippines. As noted in my preceding entry, I had broken off a dalliance with a member simply because we had to meet in secret and she refused to let our relationship progress past light kissing. She was 30 and still a virgin, and although that isn't so strange in the Philippines, it does at least convey the mindset of female Church members. So, I didn't have the faintest illusion that Mariz and I would ever be anything more than casual friends.

When asked about my religion I naturally- though not without trepidation- answered "Jewish." Mariz and her family are Tagalogs, the ethnicity dominating Central and Southern Luzon, and of course NCR, or National Capital Region which is what Filipinos use to describe Metro Manila. I know very few Tagalogs and Joysa was the first Tagalog woman I had ever been intimate with (actually she is a quarter Kapampangan but lives as a Tagalog). I mention ethnicity/tribal affiliation because in the Central Philippines- the Visayas Region, the home turf as it were of the Bisaya ethnicity- the word for Jewish is "Hudiyo." Sadly, the word is synonymous with "Devil" or "Satanic." This is because the Spanish, in all their Inquisitional splendour conditioned the Bisaya to hate Jews, since Jews after all killed their L-rd and Savior Jesus Christ.

Although Tagalog also refer to Jews as "Hudiyo," they do not demonise Jews- or at least the ones I have come to know do not. The Iglesia ni Cristo, or "INC" for short, translates as "Church of Christ." Church doctrine maintains that in the 1st Century CE/AD all existing Church's apostacised from the one true Church founded by old JC himself. Until 1914 and the establishment of INC, no true Church existed. The INC shares some practices and beliefs with Judaism which makes INC more amenable TO Judaism, and therefore made Mariz's father more amenable to yours truly. Never the less it IS a Christian denomination and like all good Christians the INC maintains a "My way or the fucking hiway" mentality, "hiway" of course being "bloody fucking hell."


The night ended early since, like almost all rural areas of the Philippines, the Church compound where Mariz and her family resided all went to sleep before 9PM. Retiring to a small guesthouse in the compound my mate and I had a few laughs at my expence about the shock on my face when we initially pulled into the compound before we both fell asleep.

As the saying goes, "Early to bed, early to rise" and so it was that at 530AM I sat down and joined the pastor and his family for a Filipino-style breakfast. Rural Filipinos, non-Muslims anyway, all eat boiled white rice as they do with any meal, stir fried "ampalaya" (Bitter Melon ) with shreds of pork and scrambled egg, fried eggs and cold water. Just as she had the evening before, Mariz sat herself across from me as both parents looked on with the look parents all over the world share when one of their children takes those first tenative steps into the world of adult relationships.

Her parents condoning Mariz's interest in me shocked me, but I would soon understand just why they approved of their daughter's interest...

To be continued...

In clearing out all the jetsam and flotsam from my Blog I inadvertantly deleted the second to last entry leaving a huge gap between June and October of 2012. So, a recap...

On July 3rd Lovely, my lover at the time, suddenly convinced herself that I did not really love her and was only toying with her. Despite my best attempts at convincing her otherwise, she wouldn't let go of that idea and it quickly devolved into us breaking up. Lovely then disappeared and on the third day, July 6th, the stress precipitated a case of Sepsis, or Blood Poisoning. When I was 17, in the army and fighting in Southern Lebanon, I was wounded in a firefight. A 7.62MM shell from an AK47 round ricocheted off some concrete debris, entered below my chin and then ricocheted inside my head tearing up my jaw and my sinuses. Despite microsurgery I still have tiny, almost microscopic metal fragments throughout my jaw. Stress can cause fragments to migrate and voila...

I became very ill and was hospitalised in Butuan, the major population centre in my part of Mindanao. When I was fit for travel, though still quite ill, I flew to New York to receive better medical care. It was in New York, on July 26th that Lovely contacted me via email. Telling me she was sorry but she felt it was better to go our seperate ways because she could not believe that I truly loved her. I told her of course that the stress from our breaking up had almost killed me but despite her sadness, she sheld steadfastly to her idea.

We continued communicating and by the middle of August had come to an understanding that when I returned to Mindanao she and I would work on our relationship. Lovely made it clear that she was hoping I'd return by her 23rd birthday on September 3rd and with that dear reader, you are brought up to speed in order to appreciate the following entry...

With Lovely's birthday looming brightly in my mind I flew home for a brief visit on August 26th. My plan was to fly south from Manila on September 2nd in order to suprise Lovely. Well to do Bisaya have a custom where dozens of clan members will serenade an unmarried female on her birthday well before sunrise. I planned to join her family members and suprise her when she awoke to the others' singing under her window. Purchasing my ticket for Mindanao I then set about spending a few days seeing old friends in Makati and the rest of Metro Manila.

One old friend told me about his new girlfriend, a 22 year old RN and invited me to dine with them. Going to a Korean BBQ joint we had a pleasant evening and the girl, MJ, invited me to join them on a visit to her family home in Zambales Province, 5 hours north of Manila. The next afternoon they picked me up and drove north out of the city.

Arriving in the municipality of Iba I was shocked when my friend entered an INC compound. INC, or Iglesia ni Cristo, is a homegrown Christian cult famed for its strict discipline and atypical cultish behavior. Seeing my expression his girlfriend, MJ, giggled and told me that her father is a pastor. My jaw must have dropped because they both began laughing hard.

As luck would have it MJ's family was waiting for us to arrive so that we could all eat supper together. After being introduced to her parents MJ introduced me to her 3 younger sisters, Michelle, age 9, Mia, age 17 and Mariz Roca, age 20. Sitting down to eat Mariz made sure she sat across from me and peppered me with questions. Finishing her Masters in Surgical Nursing at a local university she was very intelligent. However, despite her intelligence and evident maturity, she was only 20 years old. I had a problem with Lovely being 22 so 20 was too much for me.

I will continue in a following entry...

I have had a bad case of writers block for the last couple months. Which is funny since I am not a writer. Its not that I dont have anything to say its just that when I start writing it sounds contrived and bitchy. I keep trying to pour my feelings into these neat words and it just gets messy I realize I dont know how I feel. I am not comfortable in my own skin. In fact I repulse myself I wouldnt be my friend and I sure as hell wouldnt fuck me. I am an embarrassment to myself and no amount of xanax can blot that fact out. The last time I felt whole was when I was jamming needles into my arm chasing divinity. Hell I am not even sure I felt it very often then. I often think about moving somewhere no one knows me and starting over but I realize that I am the problem and there is no way to separate me from me.

Man I have lived such a blessed life I am not a virgin I have had a lot of friends. I have had experiences that I couldnt even explain fun that most people counldnt comprehend. I am just not happy and I havent been for a long time. I need a change I need to change. I am scared of so many things it feels like I am drowning in this self doubt, self hatred, self loathing I am dying the slowest most agonizing spiritual death. So I pop another pill and pretend it will be ok. You say what do you want? How can you live up to this image you have for yourself? Its never as bad as it seems the truth is somewhere in the middle.

I want to have the courage to be me. I want to have the wisdom to know who that is. I want the fire to change the world. I want the will to live for me to do for me without thought to other peoples perceptions and wishes. I want to live without this weight dragging me down. I thought it would come with age but it hasn't. I thought drugs would fix it they didn't. I thought therapy would fix me it hasn't. At what point is it rational to realize that happiness is unattainable that the best thing I can hope for is controlled misery? A comfortable cage I can live my life in perhaps a job and a ugly boring women who doesn't intimidate me. See I realize that I have created a self-fulfilling prophecy I have no confidence so I hate myself, then I hate myself because I have no self confidence. This cycle has been destroying my social life since I was a child. I seem powerless to change it.

Man I sound like a whiny bitch.

If you don't recall, I made an earlier thread titled, ”I'm faster than you”.

As said before, one night I turned off the switch to my bedroom light and I was in bed before the room was dark.

Now I elaborate on why this happens.


First off, plyometrics, also known as jump training. If you want to perform better at whatever sport you play, I'd recommend including plyometrics into your routine.

A couple great exercises for reaction time include variations of box jumps. Start sitting on a smaller box, feet on the ground- don't raise them and stomp before jumping- then from that seated position jump to a larger box placed in front of you, land softly. 3 sets of 8. The next exercise you can do is start from the same seated position on the small box. Jump up and land softly on the same box you are sitting on. 3 sets of 8. Do these AS FAST as you can while keeping good form and landing softly.

Another great reaction exercise is to have a partner stand 20ft. from you and drop a tennis ball with his arm stretched up and out to his side. Run and try to get the ball before it bounces twice. 3 sets of 8. Then, from the same distance, lie on your belly, raise your legs and arms up. When he drops the ball, drop your arms and legs and try to get up and run and catch the ball before it bounces three times, or two if you're as fast as me. Which I doubt.

Now I go on to more


Tuesday/Thursday/Saturday weight routine:
· clean and press- 2 sets, 8 reps
· squat- 2 sets, 12 reps
· pullover-2 sets, 8 reps
· bench press- 2 sets, 6 reps
· good morning- 2 sets, 8 reps
· curl- 2 sets, 8 reps

think explosive when you lift. Do the exercises fast and explosive, while keeping good form of course.

Cardio

Mon/Wed/Fri
Running- try to build up to 4 miles in 25 minutes. Change your tempo while running. Sprint some yards then return to your previous pace, shuffle feet if you like.

Tues/Thurs/Sat
Jump rope- 30 minutes, try to get to where you can go the whole 30 without a break.



Some other stuff:
Ankle and wrist weights are good for punching/kicking a bag or bob. Get a good stretch.

Pushup jumps: draw a line dividing your workout space. Do pushup jumps back and forth from one side of the line to another.
Then go on to this: around the clock pushups. Your feet are the center of the clock, and pushup jump first clockwise around to where you began, then counterclockwise.
Next are basic pushup jumps, you stay in the same place but your entire body gets airborne. Do these three in intervals, 30 seconds each, don't break between them but break 30 seconds before the next interval.