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It's a sad state of affairs whereby you have to 'poison' yourself in some regard each morning and without fail, just to reach the next sleep cycle and restart the affair. [Usually in a state of anxiety.] I use the term poison dramatically in this sense, albeit technically quite accurate.
What a peculiar Universe.
Observation, June 7th, 2 thousand and twelve. Midday.
The following day, 11:55 AM:
Dictation governed by desire to learn:
W.Burroughs Mid half twentieth century:
"Entering last words of Haasen El Sabahh, the Old Man of the Mountain.:
Listen to my last words anywhere, listen all you boards, government syndicates, nations of the worlds, and you powers behind what filth feels consummated in what laboratory, to take what is not yours to sell out your sons forever. To sell the ground from unborn feet forever. For eve are. Listen to my last words any world. Listen if you value the bodies for which you would sell all souls forever. I bear no sick words, junk words, love words, forgive words from Jesus. I have not come to explain or tidy up. What am I doing over here with the workers, the gooks, the apes, the dogs, the errand boys, the human animals. Why don't I come over to the board and drink coca cola or make it." Now for gods sake don't let that Coca Cola thing out!.
Thing is right!" Mr. Whoever it is Responsible For that who-dunnet;'
Explain how the blood and bones and brains of a hundred million more or less gooks went down the drain in green piss. So you on the board could use bodies and minds and souls that were not yours, that are not yours and never will be yours. You want Haasn Sabbah to explain that? To tidy that up? You have the wrong name and the wrong number Mr. 'Loose' Geddy Lee Rockefeller.
"Don't let them see us don't tell them what we are doing. Are these the words of the all powerful boards and syndicates of the earth? "Don't let them see us don't tell them what we are doing.
"Not the Cancer deal with the venetians?!" Not the Green Deal?"
Don't let that out. "Disaster". Unimaginable disaster. Don't show the map these things take times and that's my business, 'as usual Mr. Loose'? Short time to go minutes to go blue heavy metal people .
"Don't let that our don't let that out!? Don't show them the blues!'
What shall I do on this day cold, rotten day?
What a peculiar Universe.
Observation, June 7th, 2 thousand and twelve. Midday.
The following day, 11:55 AM:
Dictation governed by desire to learn:
W.Burroughs Mid half twentieth century:
"Entering last words of Haasen El Sabahh, the Old Man of the Mountain.:
Listen to my last words anywhere, listen all you boards, government syndicates, nations of the worlds, and you powers behind what filth feels consummated in what laboratory, to take what is not yours to sell out your sons forever. To sell the ground from unborn feet forever. For eve are. Listen to my last words any world. Listen if you value the bodies for which you would sell all souls forever. I bear no sick words, junk words, love words, forgive words from Jesus. I have not come to explain or tidy up. What am I doing over here with the workers, the gooks, the apes, the dogs, the errand boys, the human animals. Why don't I come over to the board and drink coca cola or make it." Now for gods sake don't let that Coca Cola thing out!.
Thing is right!" Mr. Whoever it is Responsible For that who-dunnet;'
Explain how the blood and bones and brains of a hundred million more or less gooks went down the drain in green piss. So you on the board could use bodies and minds and souls that were not yours, that are not yours and never will be yours. You want Haasn Sabbah to explain that? To tidy that up? You have the wrong name and the wrong number Mr. 'Loose' Geddy Lee Rockefeller.
"Don't let them see us don't tell them what we are doing. Are these the words of the all powerful boards and syndicates of the earth? "Don't let them see us don't tell them what we are doing.
"Not the Cancer deal with the venetians?!" Not the Green Deal?"
Don't let that out. "Disaster". Unimaginable disaster. Don't show the map these things take times and that's my business, 'as usual Mr. Loose'? Short time to go minutes to go blue heavy metal people .
"Don't let that our don't let that out!? Don't show them the blues!'
What shall I do on this day cold, rotten day?
Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.
Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.
Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.
Every sentence must do one of two things — reveal character or advance the action.
Start as close to the end as possible.
Be a sadist. Now matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them — in order that the reader may see what they are made of.
Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.
Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To heck with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.
Mind you, he also advises that you can break these rules, and that good writers will.
Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.
Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.
Every sentence must do one of two things — reveal character or advance the action.
Start as close to the end as possible.
Be a sadist. Now matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them — in order that the reader may see what they are made of.
Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.
Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To heck with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.
Mind you, he also advises that you can break these rules, and that good writers will.
Thanks, thoughts and things ...
I want to thank all the BL'ers for helping me be a better educated user. Something happened last night that had me reflecting on my past few months experience with the site. I happened to find BL like I said just a few months ago surfing around on a smoke break. I was drawn to opiate topics because I've always had a fascination with heroin but never tried it. Honestly I'm too scared to try it and that's probably a good thing. From this site I learned about all the other types of opiates and opioids and their various forms. I'm 37 years old and never knew that things like Vicodin were related to heroin! Where have I been? LOL
Well, funny the way the world works, but soon after discovering BL I came down with a cold. Not a bad cold, but it was one of those that ends with a lingering cough that keeps you up all night. My husband and 8 year old daughter had it too. She went to the doc first because like all overprotective rents, baby goes to the doc at the drop of a hat. Daddy and I were toughing it out because a cold's a cold and there's really nothing you can do about it. He broke down first and saw a doctor who prescribed Tussinex for the cough. He had no idea what he had his hands on. But I did.
I should probably provide a little of our history so you might appreciate the story more. Ours has been a chemical romance. We've been together since 1992 and fucked up ever since. Weed, drink, amps, hallucinogens, X, benzos. Whatever was available at the time. We never really grew up, just got older and kept going through the motions. Now, enter baby. This was about 8 years ago and we really straighten up after that. Just weed and beer to maintain our sanity. I'm amazed we are still in love, having married very young and under reckless circumstances. But we are and of course the road is bumpy at times. We hate each other sometimes, but we are best friends and BFs always stick together.
Now I say we consumed whatever came around, but oddly opiates never did. Ok, ONE time but I was so naive I didn't really appreciate the situation. Our dear friend Peter (who is now dead via suicide over this shit) offered us some opium one night. Just a little bit that he had to share. We were excited because this was new and taboo. Peter was a regular shooter and we weren't cool with that. But this was opium and this was smoking, not shooting so it was ok. We smoked it and enjoyed the hell out of it. I even enjoyed puking shortly after. It was a great night and made for a good dick sizing story since none of my old drug buddies back home had ever even seen the shit. Fast forward 10 years and I'm reading on BL that opium smells like flowers and heroin smells like vinegar. That shit we smoked was vinegar. I still can taste it if I think hard enough. Sweet, I've smoked H and didn't even know it! *places badge on chest*
Finally, back to our colds. My husband said I should try his cough syrup, get a decent nights sleep and go to the doctor myself and quit trying to be a hero. I dosed it, extremely curious how it would feel. It felt fucking great. I B-lined it to the doctor and got a Rx for Zutripro. Mine had pseudoephedrine in it unlike his and it made me feel like a rock star. Literally. I love singing in the car (cause i'm too shy to in front of people) and this stuff relaxed my vocal chords and leveled my voice. Just a sublime level of confidence I've always craved for myself. There are a few things I really hate about being me that hydro fixed like a champ. I looked at it as therapeutic. I decided to drink the whole bottle till it was gone. Using the prescribed dosage though and not religiously every 4 to 6 hours because I wanted it to last and I didn't want to be completely fucked up, just confident and content. Two or three weeks I think it lasted. When it ran out, I was depressed. My plan all along was to do the bottle, throw it away and forget about it. But it was so good. I wanted to feel like that 24/7. However I knew that was impossible and accepted that it was over. My husband had taken only like 1/5 of his bottle and it sat there on the bathroom counter. Gold, sweet and nearly full. That weekend the kid was away and I seduced my husband into dosing together Saturday morning. He had slept through all his doses and hadn't really experienced the high. It was heaven. We played guitars together, fucked like zombies, TV had never been so entertaining. Repeat on Sunday and we took Monday off to do it again. I felt like an evil, worthless piece of shit on Tuesday for introducing him to it. Shoving it down his throat more like it. So I took a new attitude towards it, realizing that with our addictive personalities this could easily lead us down a bad bad road. We have a baby girl. No. He got over it easy and didn't continue to use it. I kept my eye on the bottle, taking a sip here and there with weekdays in between. It was totally casual and not a big deal I told myself. If the level in the bottle dropped too much though, he'd notice so I had to forget about it. Then came the Saturday he was gone and there were 3 doses left. I'll take 1, there are 2 left and I am done. The rest is his. Huff.
Random happenstance number 2. About the time my bottle ran out I was in a car accident. Not my fault! But anyway, I had whiplash from it. My entire shoulder and neck were sore with occasional streaks of pain here and there. I waited it out, thinking it would resolve itself, but it didn't. It got acute. Coincidentally about the same time his bottle ran out I had a brainstorm. Amy, go to a walk in clinic because you have a legit need for painkillers now, I told myself. Sweet! I did it, strange as I felt about it. I kept reminding myself that I had a legitimate reason to go, but I also had ulterior motives and I knew it. I got a script for tramadol and flexoril even after much persuasion that I needed something stronger. I'll skip the details to save you time but basically I took 3 doses and was not satisfied at all. It's an SNRI, I'm not crazy I'm in pain! A few days later I happened to be telling my mama about my shoulder. She told me I need to go see my regular doctor just in case there was some real damage. She handed me her barely touched bottle of norco and said take half of one to get some decent sleep until I go to my appt. Wow. She also said (bless her ever lovin' heart) now be careful because you can get addicted to these things. I played dumb. Ok mama I will.
This is the final paragraph, literally and hopefully metaphorically. I started back on my 5mg a day regime with the bottle she gave me. Day 1 was blissful. I was just happy to have that feeling back. Day 2 was better. Hydrocodone makes me extremely horny and confident. I was sexting my husband all day which is something I never do and it was turning us on to no end. We fucked intensely that night and I just felt like I had the world pinched between my thumb and middle finger. Day 3 I thought I should skip it for a while so as not to get dependent but when I got home, hubby was in a big funk. We fussed a bit and I was really down about it. He is trying to quit drinking and has 5 days down which I'm very proud of him for. I'm trying not drink in front if him but he caught me that night. I felt like shiiiiit about it. So, what do I do? You know. I ate a pill. An hour or so later we're lying in bed, watching TV and I'm feeling less emotionally held hostage than earlier. He feeds off that vibe I guess and starts to let his guard down. We start chatting and laughing at TV and everything between us seems ok for the moment. I'm feeling happy thinking about how under the influence of this drug, I'm able to manipulate my man into a better mood and how awesome that is. Ive always been a slave to his mood, but now I have the power of positivity! While I dwelled on that I felt myself become empowered by it. Something kinda clicked in my head. Like I was feeling the power of the drug wrap even tighter around my psyche. Suddenly I found myself in a full blown panic attack. What the hell! How could I possibly have a panic attack while I'm on hydrocodone? I analyzed it a bit and think i have a good idea what happened. I had the attack because I felt like the drug was taking a firmer grip of me at that very moment. It scared me. Like it was taking on a life of its own. I kept repeating in attempt to calm myself that that was the last dose for me. I would give the bottle back to my mama and be done with it. For some reason this didn't help much. Then I reflected on our long lost Peter and how this was the drug that did him in and what an awful headspace he must've been in. I connected with him on a spiritual level as I was on his DOC and we had that in common at the moment. It actually worked. I began to feel waves of peace wash over me. I told him I understand brother, that I love him and that I know he's still with us but in a better place. I was gonna be ok.
Please see part II. This was too long for one post ...
I want to thank all the BL'ers for helping me be a better educated user. Something happened last night that had me reflecting on my past few months experience with the site. I happened to find BL like I said just a few months ago surfing around on a smoke break. I was drawn to opiate topics because I've always had a fascination with heroin but never tried it. Honestly I'm too scared to try it and that's probably a good thing. From this site I learned about all the other types of opiates and opioids and their various forms. I'm 37 years old and never knew that things like Vicodin were related to heroin! Where have I been? LOL
Well, funny the way the world works, but soon after discovering BL I came down with a cold. Not a bad cold, but it was one of those that ends with a lingering cough that keeps you up all night. My husband and 8 year old daughter had it too. She went to the doc first because like all overprotective rents, baby goes to the doc at the drop of a hat. Daddy and I were toughing it out because a cold's a cold and there's really nothing you can do about it. He broke down first and saw a doctor who prescribed Tussinex for the cough. He had no idea what he had his hands on. But I did.I should probably provide a little of our history so you might appreciate the story more. Ours has been a chemical romance. We've been together since 1992 and fucked up ever since. Weed, drink, amps, hallucinogens, X, benzos. Whatever was available at the time. We never really grew up, just got older and kept going through the motions. Now, enter baby. This was about 8 years ago and we really straighten up after that. Just weed and beer to maintain our sanity. I'm amazed we are still in love, having married very young and under reckless circumstances. But we are and of course the road is bumpy at times. We hate each other sometimes, but we are best friends and BFs always stick together.
Now I say we consumed whatever came around, but oddly opiates never did. Ok, ONE time but I was so naive I didn't really appreciate the situation. Our dear friend Peter (who is now dead via suicide over this shit) offered us some opium one night. Just a little bit that he had to share. We were excited because this was new and taboo. Peter was a regular shooter and we weren't cool with that. But this was opium and this was smoking, not shooting so it was ok. We smoked it and enjoyed the hell out of it. I even enjoyed puking shortly after. It was a great night and made for a good dick sizing story since none of my old drug buddies back home had ever even seen the shit. Fast forward 10 years and I'm reading on BL that opium smells like flowers and heroin smells like vinegar. That shit we smoked was vinegar. I still can taste it if I think hard enough. Sweet, I've smoked H and didn't even know it! *places badge on chest*
Finally, back to our colds. My husband said I should try his cough syrup, get a decent nights sleep and go to the doctor myself and quit trying to be a hero. I dosed it, extremely curious how it would feel. It felt fucking great. I B-lined it to the doctor and got a Rx for Zutripro. Mine had pseudoephedrine in it unlike his and it made me feel like a rock star. Literally. I love singing in the car (cause i'm too shy to in front of people) and this stuff relaxed my vocal chords and leveled my voice. Just a sublime level of confidence I've always craved for myself. There are a few things I really hate about being me that hydro fixed like a champ. I looked at it as therapeutic. I decided to drink the whole bottle till it was gone. Using the prescribed dosage though and not religiously every 4 to 6 hours because I wanted it to last and I didn't want to be completely fucked up, just confident and content. Two or three weeks I think it lasted. When it ran out, I was depressed. My plan all along was to do the bottle, throw it away and forget about it. But it was so good. I wanted to feel like that 24/7. However I knew that was impossible and accepted that it was over. My husband had taken only like 1/5 of his bottle and it sat there on the bathroom counter. Gold, sweet and nearly full. That weekend the kid was away and I seduced my husband into dosing together Saturday morning. He had slept through all his doses and hadn't really experienced the high. It was heaven. We played guitars together, fucked like zombies, TV had never been so entertaining. Repeat on Sunday and we took Monday off to do it again. I felt like an evil, worthless piece of shit on Tuesday for introducing him to it. Shoving it down his throat more like it. So I took a new attitude towards it, realizing that with our addictive personalities this could easily lead us down a bad bad road. We have a baby girl. No. He got over it easy and didn't continue to use it. I kept my eye on the bottle, taking a sip here and there with weekdays in between. It was totally casual and not a big deal I told myself. If the level in the bottle dropped too much though, he'd notice so I had to forget about it. Then came the Saturday he was gone and there were 3 doses left. I'll take 1, there are 2 left and I am done. The rest is his. Huff.
Random happenstance number 2. About the time my bottle ran out I was in a car accident. Not my fault! But anyway, I had whiplash from it. My entire shoulder and neck were sore with occasional streaks of pain here and there. I waited it out, thinking it would resolve itself, but it didn't. It got acute. Coincidentally about the same time his bottle ran out I had a brainstorm. Amy, go to a walk in clinic because you have a legit need for painkillers now, I told myself. Sweet! I did it, strange as I felt about it. I kept reminding myself that I had a legitimate reason to go, but I also had ulterior motives and I knew it. I got a script for tramadol and flexoril even after much persuasion that I needed something stronger. I'll skip the details to save you time but basically I took 3 doses and was not satisfied at all. It's an SNRI, I'm not crazy I'm in pain! A few days later I happened to be telling my mama about my shoulder. She told me I need to go see my regular doctor just in case there was some real damage. She handed me her barely touched bottle of norco and said take half of one to get some decent sleep until I go to my appt. Wow. She also said (bless her ever lovin' heart) now be careful because you can get addicted to these things. I played dumb. Ok mama I will.
This is the final paragraph, literally and hopefully metaphorically. I started back on my 5mg a day regime with the bottle she gave me. Day 1 was blissful. I was just happy to have that feeling back. Day 2 was better. Hydrocodone makes me extremely horny and confident. I was sexting my husband all day which is something I never do and it was turning us on to no end. We fucked intensely that night and I just felt like I had the world pinched between my thumb and middle finger. Day 3 I thought I should skip it for a while so as not to get dependent but when I got home, hubby was in a big funk. We fussed a bit and I was really down about it. He is trying to quit drinking and has 5 days down which I'm very proud of him for. I'm trying not drink in front if him but he caught me that night. I felt like shiiiiit about it. So, what do I do? You know. I ate a pill. An hour or so later we're lying in bed, watching TV and I'm feeling less emotionally held hostage than earlier. He feeds off that vibe I guess and starts to let his guard down. We start chatting and laughing at TV and everything between us seems ok for the moment. I'm feeling happy thinking about how under the influence of this drug, I'm able to manipulate my man into a better mood and how awesome that is. Ive always been a slave to his mood, but now I have the power of positivity! While I dwelled on that I felt myself become empowered by it. Something kinda clicked in my head. Like I was feeling the power of the drug wrap even tighter around my psyche. Suddenly I found myself in a full blown panic attack. What the hell! How could I possibly have a panic attack while I'm on hydrocodone? I analyzed it a bit and think i have a good idea what happened. I had the attack because I felt like the drug was taking a firmer grip of me at that very moment. It scared me. Like it was taking on a life of its own. I kept repeating in attempt to calm myself that that was the last dose for me. I would give the bottle back to my mama and be done with it. For some reason this didn't help much. Then I reflected on our long lost Peter and how this was the drug that did him in and what an awful headspace he must've been in. I connected with him on a spiritual level as I was on his DOC and we had that in common at the moment. It actually worked. I began to feel waves of peace wash over me. I told him I understand brother, that I love him and that I know he's still with us but in a better place. I was gonna be ok.
Please see part II. This was too long for one post ...
That awkward moment when you realise your grandma found your drug stash and threw everything out. Ouch.
Got a message on voice mail from boss pissed off so to speak as to how I worded my charting. She went on to say if I do it again, she gonna write me up, and to call her. I did call but she wasn't available. Bosses don't get their own voice mail box, and we're not allowed to call the supervisor's private cell # because the company wants to monitor all calls to boss. If not available, you have to leave a message with whoever answers the phone, who in turn is supposed to send her an email. Maybe half the time they forget, boss doesn't get an email.
She called me at home, said she wanted me to go all the way to BFE corp office to go over some charting, that it should only take 10 to 15 minutes at the most. Problem was/is not only is it way out of the way and with my comically low wages (I've worked as contractor 7 years, started at $18/hr 7 yrs ago, which then got cut to $17.50--then another cut to $15.75--and they take $70/wk out of check to pay for health insurance, with crappy coverage compared to other registries)
Anyway, the no sick or vacation pay I was able to deal with. Not getting any raises in spite of getting excellent reviews (cept for last 5 months them bein pissed about me bein late half the time---but reliable 5 nights a week) not only do I or any of us not get any raises, we get pay cuts. All of us last 7 yrs I been there got 5%, then 10% cut in pay a couple years after the first cut. Then, on top of that, this cheap ass company 2 years ago decides to cut time and a half when we work holidays.
I have an easy job, graveyard are bomb hours---they suit me--plus the luxury of generally being able to bypass the bosses, the state, and all the other day time crap I hate. Also, up until maybe 18 months ago I worked 4 nights, off 3--making the lack of benefits and crap pay bearable cause of being able to not have to deal with the freaken work world each week night for 3 nights off--something that proved quite doable for balancing my chemicals with work. I don't tweak and blow off work, haven't since 2006, and until 5 months ago, was early or on time almost always without fail.
Then since mid 2008 came the chronic fatigue when I made the dumb mistake of taking Tramadol for too long---not knowing it was an anti depressant and ended up leaving me feeling tired all the time, and this all started when I had been off all fun drugs/booze 2 yrs---cept for Tramadol last 9 months of being clean--and getting all these tests done by doc----after $680 my portion of insurance bill I ran out of damn money, but I had to work as rent and car don't pay for themselves. I worked 2 shifts 6 days a week for 2 months when the 2nd pay cut hit us----after that I was just too tired and went back to 4 nights a week.
Well now with all this new beaurocratic CRAP and their dumb HIPPA rules---the company now all of a sudden is all about things that are so beside the point, mainly beaurocratic red tape rules as opposed to patient care----shit up until the last couple months never gave a crap about and were too cheap to do these apparent background checks (aside from initial one b4 getting hired) and are all gung ho making us do these continuing ed courses online only as opposed to pencil and paper--which I hate---so what I'm saying here is the company seems hell bent demanding we go through all this time consuming crap, do these tests online, and are now all fired up about saying my charting is wrong because I quoted pediatric client's mom's refusal to comply with my cooling the client down-by removing 2 extra outer layers of clothing/blankets off client who is sweating and/or feverish.
I was told I was to come into the office and boss was going to go over simple charting how she wants it done and be there to answer any questions. As for the charting, I did it the way I've done it for years & didn't do anything wrong as far as I'm concerned. Then there were 2 times I guess I left clients first name on company after hours on call machine----as I've done last 7 years that is now all of a sudden this breach of confidentiality. Boss didn't say I was getting written up for that, but the accounting manager's inuendos were indicating as such. I've never been written up, only had excellent reviews--not that it means a damn thing.
Ok well aside from gas expense of being forced to go down there, not to mention the inconvenience of it, and having this uneasy feeling in the back of my ind saying something ain't quite right. I admit and own up to the lateness, but I finally told the schedulers again (every year turn over in office staff it seems) I need to cut my hours go back 4 nights a week but said every other week for now be fine----so I'm not so damn tired all the time. It made this crap bearable, but I could NOT drive my car on freeway, I had to cancel 3 times cause I couldnt get a ride down there or rent a car as I dont have $300 deposit or didnt so boss knew this was a big hassle for me, but beyond my control. Then, the scheduler dude let slip that the CEO and my boss (3rd one in a year--never had any complaint from other 2) had rearranged their morning appointments so I HAD to be there.
Wow. Lets just say I am MOST disappointed that my boss and 2 suits ---- something I was NOT told had planned some intimidation tactic to pull on me. The company has no one to fill my shifts , even given 2 or more weeks notice I wont be there (I took one unpaid wk off vacation 2007 and an unpaid sick leave week in 2006) and no one had worked my shifts. The mom can be a rude bitch and doesnt speak much English--talks down to staff sayin shit in Vietnamese or just blatantly butts right in front of me when I'm doing a treatment/giving meds---meaning she body slams me dont say excuse me or nothing---and refuses heat in winter for caregivers and A/C in summer no matter how hot or freezing. Our company treats it's employees like shit and are the cheapest I've ever dealt with---but put up with it for the price of my freedom to not have to be somewhere 5 days a week or could take off.
Plus the chronic fatigue, me pushing 50, my confidence level is crap, and then there is the cursed background checks going to look for a new job. I have no felonies, no misdeameanors, but I did finish my drug diversion class and charges against me were dismissed in feb or may 2008----but says rights there in black and white the times I got popped for possetion of controlled substance----5 arrests/including probatuion violation/drivin on susp license cause car wouldnt pass smog---(not a DUI) and simply put, I don't want to have to explain fuck all---and now of all times theres not a huge demand for tired old broads 50 y/o with this dismissed drug charges on my background check. My doc back in 2009 is fully aware and has lab work and chronic fatigue complaint....I've not listened to Mom and asked to go on disability cause now that I cut back to 4 nights a week every other week---it was a job I could do and I didn't want to be some asshole moochin off the system if I didn't have to and now...I don't know whats gonna happen and I just may have to.
Could I be in trouble too for the chronic fatigue? I don't even know if I'm going to work or not tonight---cause I get these dumb panic attacks thinkin about it, but mainly, when I heard about these suits and my boss for this "charting instruction," well it pretty much means one thing. I'm not sure if I'm getting fired, but I thought it odd if they meant to fire me than why not just do it over the phone and tell me I'm not needed or whatever. What is upsetting me is I HATE being forced into situations like this----NOT knowing the law or my rights and these 3 suits and me alone without any knowledge or what I should or should not say and no legal counsel with me----so that said---I really don't know what the fuck to say or do or the best way to proceed cause this all happened today and I had NO time to prepare and of course was unable to get legal counsel TODAY fuck. That is when I need it, NOW, not 2 days from now so I will end up getting screwed. I wish I knew how to PROCEED!!!
She called me at home, said she wanted me to go all the way to BFE corp office to go over some charting, that it should only take 10 to 15 minutes at the most. Problem was/is not only is it way out of the way and with my comically low wages (I've worked as contractor 7 years, started at $18/hr 7 yrs ago, which then got cut to $17.50--then another cut to $15.75--and they take $70/wk out of check to pay for health insurance, with crappy coverage compared to other registries)
Anyway, the no sick or vacation pay I was able to deal with. Not getting any raises in spite of getting excellent reviews (cept for last 5 months them bein pissed about me bein late half the time---but reliable 5 nights a week) not only do I or any of us not get any raises, we get pay cuts. All of us last 7 yrs I been there got 5%, then 10% cut in pay a couple years after the first cut. Then, on top of that, this cheap ass company 2 years ago decides to cut time and a half when we work holidays.
I have an easy job, graveyard are bomb hours---they suit me--plus the luxury of generally being able to bypass the bosses, the state, and all the other day time crap I hate. Also, up until maybe 18 months ago I worked 4 nights, off 3--making the lack of benefits and crap pay bearable cause of being able to not have to deal with the freaken work world each week night for 3 nights off--something that proved quite doable for balancing my chemicals with work. I don't tweak and blow off work, haven't since 2006, and until 5 months ago, was early or on time almost always without fail.
Then since mid 2008 came the chronic fatigue when I made the dumb mistake of taking Tramadol for too long---not knowing it was an anti depressant and ended up leaving me feeling tired all the time, and this all started when I had been off all fun drugs/booze 2 yrs---cept for Tramadol last 9 months of being clean--and getting all these tests done by doc----after $680 my portion of insurance bill I ran out of damn money, but I had to work as rent and car don't pay for themselves. I worked 2 shifts 6 days a week for 2 months when the 2nd pay cut hit us----after that I was just too tired and went back to 4 nights a week.
Well now with all this new beaurocratic CRAP and their dumb HIPPA rules---the company now all of a sudden is all about things that are so beside the point, mainly beaurocratic red tape rules as opposed to patient care----shit up until the last couple months never gave a crap about and were too cheap to do these apparent background checks (aside from initial one b4 getting hired) and are all gung ho making us do these continuing ed courses online only as opposed to pencil and paper--which I hate---so what I'm saying here is the company seems hell bent demanding we go through all this time consuming crap, do these tests online, and are now all fired up about saying my charting is wrong because I quoted pediatric client's mom's refusal to comply with my cooling the client down-by removing 2 extra outer layers of clothing/blankets off client who is sweating and/or feverish.
I was told I was to come into the office and boss was going to go over simple charting how she wants it done and be there to answer any questions. As for the charting, I did it the way I've done it for years & didn't do anything wrong as far as I'm concerned. Then there were 2 times I guess I left clients first name on company after hours on call machine----as I've done last 7 years that is now all of a sudden this breach of confidentiality. Boss didn't say I was getting written up for that, but the accounting manager's inuendos were indicating as such. I've never been written up, only had excellent reviews--not that it means a damn thing.
Ok well aside from gas expense of being forced to go down there, not to mention the inconvenience of it, and having this uneasy feeling in the back of my ind saying something ain't quite right. I admit and own up to the lateness, but I finally told the schedulers again (every year turn over in office staff it seems) I need to cut my hours go back 4 nights a week but said every other week for now be fine----so I'm not so damn tired all the time. It made this crap bearable, but I could NOT drive my car on freeway, I had to cancel 3 times cause I couldnt get a ride down there or rent a car as I dont have $300 deposit or didnt so boss knew this was a big hassle for me, but beyond my control. Then, the scheduler dude let slip that the CEO and my boss (3rd one in a year--never had any complaint from other 2) had rearranged their morning appointments so I HAD to be there.
Wow. Lets just say I am MOST disappointed that my boss and 2 suits ---- something I was NOT told had planned some intimidation tactic to pull on me. The company has no one to fill my shifts , even given 2 or more weeks notice I wont be there (I took one unpaid wk off vacation 2007 and an unpaid sick leave week in 2006) and no one had worked my shifts. The mom can be a rude bitch and doesnt speak much English--talks down to staff sayin shit in Vietnamese or just blatantly butts right in front of me when I'm doing a treatment/giving meds---meaning she body slams me dont say excuse me or nothing---and refuses heat in winter for caregivers and A/C in summer no matter how hot or freezing. Our company treats it's employees like shit and are the cheapest I've ever dealt with---but put up with it for the price of my freedom to not have to be somewhere 5 days a week or could take off.
Plus the chronic fatigue, me pushing 50, my confidence level is crap, and then there is the cursed background checks going to look for a new job. I have no felonies, no misdeameanors, but I did finish my drug diversion class and charges against me were dismissed in feb or may 2008----but says rights there in black and white the times I got popped for possetion of controlled substance----5 arrests/including probatuion violation/drivin on susp license cause car wouldnt pass smog---(not a DUI) and simply put, I don't want to have to explain fuck all---and now of all times theres not a huge demand for tired old broads 50 y/o with this dismissed drug charges on my background check. My doc back in 2009 is fully aware and has lab work and chronic fatigue complaint....I've not listened to Mom and asked to go on disability cause now that I cut back to 4 nights a week every other week---it was a job I could do and I didn't want to be some asshole moochin off the system if I didn't have to and now...I don't know whats gonna happen and I just may have to.
Could I be in trouble too for the chronic fatigue? I don't even know if I'm going to work or not tonight---cause I get these dumb panic attacks thinkin about it, but mainly, when I heard about these suits and my boss for this "charting instruction," well it pretty much means one thing. I'm not sure if I'm getting fired, but I thought it odd if they meant to fire me than why not just do it over the phone and tell me I'm not needed or whatever. What is upsetting me is I HATE being forced into situations like this----NOT knowing the law or my rights and these 3 suits and me alone without any knowledge or what I should or should not say and no legal counsel with me----so that said---I really don't know what the fuck to say or do or the best way to proceed cause this all happened today and I had NO time to prepare and of course was unable to get legal counsel TODAY fuck. That is when I need it, NOW, not 2 days from now so I will end up getting screwed. I wish I knew how to PROCEED!!!
I'm still not sure how I feel about going to college. I know I should of already been going to school but a lot came up and now its like wow I'm actually going to be going. My mother cried when I enrolled and she was just proud of me. I have to admit I kind of smiled too but it doesn't mean I'm not scared shitless. Honestly I don't even want to go anymore but I know the longer I wait the less likely I will ever go. So I'm going to suck it up and continue on with my education. It will be good for me and no longer will my schedule only consist of working or doing drugs. Ill actually be around kids my age again and hopefully go back to being more social.
However, I still have something in the back of my mind telling me I'm going to fuck this all up and fail. That I'm just going to become a junkie again and end up dead. Well, I know that would probably happen if I screw this all up. Its just so scary to think about school again and I hope it doesn't make me end up committing suicide. Its just I have so much stress in my life and schools going to make it much harder but then if I put it off again who says I'll ever go? Its as if no matter what I do I'm going to be fucked. What to do? What to do?
However, I still have something in the back of my mind telling me I'm going to fuck this all up and fail. That I'm just going to become a junkie again and end up dead. Well, I know that would probably happen if I screw this all up. Its just so scary to think about school again and I hope it doesn't make me end up committing suicide. Its just I have so much stress in my life and schools going to make it much harder but then if I put it off again who says I'll ever go? Its as if no matter what I do I'm going to be fucked. What to do? What to do?
Love is the worst sensation ever, hands down. It's a rollercoaster in a fair that makes me feel like I'm going to vomit 24/7.
If only I was the person you want me to be...
I'm trying not to be an egocentric piece of shit, but that's difficult.
Why is it when I want to do something to support the arts that jealous assfucking pieces of shit try to ruin EVERYTHING???
If only I was the person you want me to be...
I'm trying not to be an egocentric piece of shit, but that's difficult.
Why is it when I want to do something to support the arts that jealous assfucking pieces of shit try to ruin EVERYTHING???
WARNING: This may be a downer
I'm one of those rare people that has lived in New York all my life, with the exception of a year abroad doing the whole rehab/halfway-house thing. I grew up in Brooklyn and for the first half of my life things seemed real fucking dandy. I loved being a kid honestly, and was lucky to have a pretty stable homelife and that feeling of security that all children should have. I was a shy boy, but I did manage to always make a few close friends, and that sattisfied me. My expectation's of life were huge- I planned to be a baseball player, an artist, and to marry the girl on the cover of MAXIM magazine.
When I turned ten I started to have these weird thoughts that deeply disturbed me, the main one being that I couldn't prove that other people were conscious. I don't know when the idea popped into my head, but it was sometime after watching the Truman Show. At first it was just a minor nuisance, but within weeks it grew into a full blown obsession. To make matters worse, I started to do these strange "rituals" to relieve myself of the anxiety. It started off with me doing things like touching my door knob a certain number of times, or making sure to skip the cracks in the sidewalk on my way home from school. Within a month or so, it started to escalate though. I began to not only have to touch the fucking door knob, but allso jump up and down ten times, recite each of my cat's names in a specific sequence, lick dirt off the ground, and eventually much more embarrasing things that whoever is reading this can try to summon up with your own imagination.
I obviously thought I was going insane.
Eventually my mother realized that I had become extremely withdrawn, and was behaving oddly in general. She scheduled an appointment for a therapist, and within one or two visits, it was determined that I should be admitted into a childrens psychiatric ward. I don't really remember much of the time I was there, other than it was incredibly horrifying. One night I was laying in bed and I started crying because I was scared and couldn't fall asleep, so a nurse came in and told me to stop whining because I had a lot of things that the other children didn't. For some reason, this really struck a nerve in me, and I shut up. She gave me some benadryl, and I went to bed. I was released from the hospital after a week or so, and admitted to some NYU program that specialized in Childhood OCD. I was put on zoloft, and recieved cognitive behavioural therapy for several months. Eventually, the Sertraline kicked in, and I felt relatively free of the symptoms. I went back to school, and returned to a fairly routine way of life, though looking back I know something had changed in me. I became incredibly flamboyant, and for the first time popular in my grade. I would draw porno comics for other kids, and stand up to the "popular" assholes who spewed out diarhea storms of homophobia and ignorance.
When I went into highschool, things changed a little bit. My parents split up, and my dad began to drink and get high quite a bit. I didn't know what to make of my father, and I began to hate my mother, so I started hanging out with my friends more and more. I also became plagued with that highschool insecurity, and for some reason decided to stop taking zoloft. Within a few months I started to get these really bizzare ideas in my head again, and they became so strong, that they actually effected the way I saw things. I would look at myself in the mirror and see a horribly distorted, hideous figure. It really freaked me out, and every small, nasty comment spewed out to me in a typical highschool fashion felt like rubbing splinters into an open cut.
Then I went to college, and I started using heroin, and it worked. All that fucking noise died out, everything seemed beautiful, i felt fulfilled. There is no drug like heroin in my oppinion, some other opiates come close, but none of them, even oxymorphone, deliver like smack does. I remember my early day's of using, where me and my friend would go into the shed in his back yard and cut lines out on a stool and nod out listening to The Velvet Underground, or other classically cliche artists to do heroin to. We'd just sit there smoking ciggarettes, burning our fingers and our lips, occasionally talking to some invisible ghost, and then we'd jerk out of it and go for a walk along the park, and tell eachother all the shit we were too afraid to say when we were sober. I always look back at that time with a certain sense of nostalgia, because there is nothing like doing the best drug, with your best friend.
Eventually, of course, I managed to complete the cliche when I started shooting, and everything really started to go wrong. Visits to ICU, infections, asthma attacks, severe respiratory depression, the works. Everytime I'd get out though, I'd eventually fall back on the dope. I think there was a time when I used heroin to fill up whatever I thought I was missing out of life, but eventually, those things didn't matter anymore, and the only thing I wanted was more and more heroin.
Late last fall I came down with a staph infection from shooting cocaine. I spent five weeks in a hospital, my mother came every day and sat by my side telling me in one way or another "look how you've fucked up your life". I agreed to AGAIN ammend my ways, and for the past five months or so I have kept up my word. I have not shot heroin, I have not shot cocaine. I take buprenorphine, I go to school, I get good grades.
But this shit has it's teeth in me, and it flips me out. Somedays I'll walk outside, and there will be a light breeze in the air, carrying a pleasant smell, and it will triggere this reaction in my brain that makes me go "shit, i need a shot". Other time's I'll be walking down Broadway in the city, and I'll look up at a giant Calvin Klein add sporting some highly erotic imagery. I'll look back down at the street, and all the people passing by holding their shopping bags from Macy's and Uniqlo, typing on there smart phones, and I'll get this deep burning hatred in my heart, and an incredible drive comes over me where I just want to jump into the nearest Starbucks bathroom, switch the door to occupied, and slam as much heroin and cocaine into my veins as possible.
I trip on the street-Heroin
Someone trys to get into the train before I leave-Heroin.
Crunch (the gym)-Heroin
College student's smoking ciggarettes-Heroin.
Live music- Heroin
Williamsburg/Buschwick-Heroin
The mirror-Heroin.
I'm one of those rare people that has lived in New York all my life, with the exception of a year abroad doing the whole rehab/halfway-house thing. I grew up in Brooklyn and for the first half of my life things seemed real fucking dandy. I loved being a kid honestly, and was lucky to have a pretty stable homelife and that feeling of security that all children should have. I was a shy boy, but I did manage to always make a few close friends, and that sattisfied me. My expectation's of life were huge- I planned to be a baseball player, an artist, and to marry the girl on the cover of MAXIM magazine.
When I turned ten I started to have these weird thoughts that deeply disturbed me, the main one being that I couldn't prove that other people were conscious. I don't know when the idea popped into my head, but it was sometime after watching the Truman Show. At first it was just a minor nuisance, but within weeks it grew into a full blown obsession. To make matters worse, I started to do these strange "rituals" to relieve myself of the anxiety. It started off with me doing things like touching my door knob a certain number of times, or making sure to skip the cracks in the sidewalk on my way home from school. Within a month or so, it started to escalate though. I began to not only have to touch the fucking door knob, but allso jump up and down ten times, recite each of my cat's names in a specific sequence, lick dirt off the ground, and eventually much more embarrasing things that whoever is reading this can try to summon up with your own imagination.
I obviously thought I was going insane.
Eventually my mother realized that I had become extremely withdrawn, and was behaving oddly in general. She scheduled an appointment for a therapist, and within one or two visits, it was determined that I should be admitted into a childrens psychiatric ward. I don't really remember much of the time I was there, other than it was incredibly horrifying. One night I was laying in bed and I started crying because I was scared and couldn't fall asleep, so a nurse came in and told me to stop whining because I had a lot of things that the other children didn't. For some reason, this really struck a nerve in me, and I shut up. She gave me some benadryl, and I went to bed. I was released from the hospital after a week or so, and admitted to some NYU program that specialized in Childhood OCD. I was put on zoloft, and recieved cognitive behavioural therapy for several months. Eventually, the Sertraline kicked in, and I felt relatively free of the symptoms. I went back to school, and returned to a fairly routine way of life, though looking back I know something had changed in me. I became incredibly flamboyant, and for the first time popular in my grade. I would draw porno comics for other kids, and stand up to the "popular" assholes who spewed out diarhea storms of homophobia and ignorance.
When I went into highschool, things changed a little bit. My parents split up, and my dad began to drink and get high quite a bit. I didn't know what to make of my father, and I began to hate my mother, so I started hanging out with my friends more and more. I also became plagued with that highschool insecurity, and for some reason decided to stop taking zoloft. Within a few months I started to get these really bizzare ideas in my head again, and they became so strong, that they actually effected the way I saw things. I would look at myself in the mirror and see a horribly distorted, hideous figure. It really freaked me out, and every small, nasty comment spewed out to me in a typical highschool fashion felt like rubbing splinters into an open cut.
Then I went to college, and I started using heroin, and it worked. All that fucking noise died out, everything seemed beautiful, i felt fulfilled. There is no drug like heroin in my oppinion, some other opiates come close, but none of them, even oxymorphone, deliver like smack does. I remember my early day's of using, where me and my friend would go into the shed in his back yard and cut lines out on a stool and nod out listening to The Velvet Underground, or other classically cliche artists to do heroin to. We'd just sit there smoking ciggarettes, burning our fingers and our lips, occasionally talking to some invisible ghost, and then we'd jerk out of it and go for a walk along the park, and tell eachother all the shit we were too afraid to say when we were sober. I always look back at that time with a certain sense of nostalgia, because there is nothing like doing the best drug, with your best friend.
Eventually, of course, I managed to complete the cliche when I started shooting, and everything really started to go wrong. Visits to ICU, infections, asthma attacks, severe respiratory depression, the works. Everytime I'd get out though, I'd eventually fall back on the dope. I think there was a time when I used heroin to fill up whatever I thought I was missing out of life, but eventually, those things didn't matter anymore, and the only thing I wanted was more and more heroin.
Late last fall I came down with a staph infection from shooting cocaine. I spent five weeks in a hospital, my mother came every day and sat by my side telling me in one way or another "look how you've fucked up your life". I agreed to AGAIN ammend my ways, and for the past five months or so I have kept up my word. I have not shot heroin, I have not shot cocaine. I take buprenorphine, I go to school, I get good grades.
But this shit has it's teeth in me, and it flips me out. Somedays I'll walk outside, and there will be a light breeze in the air, carrying a pleasant smell, and it will triggere this reaction in my brain that makes me go "shit, i need a shot". Other time's I'll be walking down Broadway in the city, and I'll look up at a giant Calvin Klein add sporting some highly erotic imagery. I'll look back down at the street, and all the people passing by holding their shopping bags from Macy's and Uniqlo, typing on there smart phones, and I'll get this deep burning hatred in my heart, and an incredible drive comes over me where I just want to jump into the nearest Starbucks bathroom, switch the door to occupied, and slam as much heroin and cocaine into my veins as possible.
I trip on the street-Heroin
Someone trys to get into the train before I leave-Heroin.
Crunch (the gym)-Heroin
College student's smoking ciggarettes-Heroin.
Live music- Heroin
Williamsburg/Buschwick-Heroin
The mirror-Heroin.
it's quite a mile stone. i never thought i'd get to this many posts, but here i am 8 years and 10,000 posts later. it's amazing how much i've changed since 2004. i don't know where i'd be today without bluelight and i don't really want to know either.
Do you think it very strange that I want to work in a pharmacy? I think it's ironic but it goes along with my life when I look at the whole 53 years as female human on planet earth and what makes me ME and not someone else? I think it's because of the experiences I've had all through... I was tripping SO hard on not being able to find a job teaching. SO hard.
But I've been writing about being at the University right? That has expanded my vision to not just the recent past but the decades past. I thought when I started teaching that everything would stop shifting. OF COURSE it has not stopped shifting. The life I'm living is rolling along downward like up by the creek by the first bridge on Garnet. We walk Sweetpea up there at sunrise every few days. Last time the water was high and fast running over the rocks. In motion. Motion. I'm in motion. Of course I'm changing I've always been changing.
These chapters get hard. I was rereading my early journals and watching myself develop as the character in a novel would do. Writing about myself while I'm going through it is akin to the Drawing Hands Escher did. Both creating and being created at the same god damn time. In motion, man. I've been resisting the motion my life is. My life has always been motion. I can see that's what death is... lack of motion. The opposite of life. That makes me think that there probably isn't an afterlife. Life is motion. Death is motionless. Put a pin in it. I'll come back to that.
The university statue. Secret Chiefs 3. Music is motion. I think it's alive in that sense. The thought occurred to me because of the way that statue is situated and shaped it always made me think more of it's movement than of it's stillness. No doubt it had (has) both qualities but it's movement made more of an impression on me. I'm sure it was SC3. Fantastic movement of music to listen to while we watched the statue. It never moved but it was not still.
Your drum. My car. Kashmir. What? Madness. A middle aged woman high on drugs and listening to Led Zeppelin with a young man also high on drugs and playing a drum sitting in her car in the middle of the night. Not the activities of midlife women. It never mattered to me what anyone thought. This woman felt it was worth whatever risk might be involved to have the young man drum for her. Happy to hear hands drumming and happy to remember it. I am nothing if not totally self serving and happiness is the goal.
That's my character. She's addicted to happiness. She does anything and everything to make herself happy. I listen to stand up comedy a couple hours a day. I listened to Ralphie May's new one, Austentatious, last night and laughed my ass off. I seek all the sweetness of life and moreso the older I get.
So what could be sweeter than being in a pharmacy 8 hours a day? I spend countless hours reading and posting on Bluelight. I love drugs. My mom loves drugs. My father has a degree in Narcotics. I might have told you about the textbooks he had with color pictures of pills and powders with lists of street names on the side of the picture and the effects written underneath. My dad wrote his essays on the yellow legal pad and I had to type them up for him. I remember looking for euphoria in the dictionary. I've been looking for euphoria ever since.
She finds it. By any means necessary. With no regret. This is the book I'm writing. I intend to enjoy living it because how could I expect the reader to enjoy it if I'm not enjoying it in 3D? I know the reader might think it is a bad idea to have someone like me working in a pharmacy. That's the beauty. Will I fuck it up? I don't know. There will be happiness. I've been moving through time long enough to know that my movements result in my happiness.
Fresh experiences of course. Fresh experiences. Time only goes forwards.., Appreciating what is yet to come instead of fearing it is the way I live. Appreciating the joyous experiences I had causes me to write about them. I want to use words to put the reader in the car with us. If I could write that well; if I could use words to create euphoria in my reader, I will have succeeded in finding the ultimate euphoria for my own self.
Traveling down thoughts of the university leads me to thoughts of uncharted happiness ahead. I wonder what happens next.
But I've been writing about being at the University right? That has expanded my vision to not just the recent past but the decades past. I thought when I started teaching that everything would stop shifting. OF COURSE it has not stopped shifting. The life I'm living is rolling along downward like up by the creek by the first bridge on Garnet. We walk Sweetpea up there at sunrise every few days. Last time the water was high and fast running over the rocks. In motion. Motion. I'm in motion. Of course I'm changing I've always been changing.
These chapters get hard. I was rereading my early journals and watching myself develop as the character in a novel would do. Writing about myself while I'm going through it is akin to the Drawing Hands Escher did. Both creating and being created at the same god damn time. In motion, man. I've been resisting the motion my life is. My life has always been motion. I can see that's what death is... lack of motion. The opposite of life. That makes me think that there probably isn't an afterlife. Life is motion. Death is motionless. Put a pin in it. I'll come back to that.
The university statue. Secret Chiefs 3. Music is motion. I think it's alive in that sense. The thought occurred to me because of the way that statue is situated and shaped it always made me think more of it's movement than of it's stillness. No doubt it had (has) both qualities but it's movement made more of an impression on me. I'm sure it was SC3. Fantastic movement of music to listen to while we watched the statue. It never moved but it was not still.
Your drum. My car. Kashmir. What? Madness. A middle aged woman high on drugs and listening to Led Zeppelin with a young man also high on drugs and playing a drum sitting in her car in the middle of the night. Not the activities of midlife women. It never mattered to me what anyone thought. This woman felt it was worth whatever risk might be involved to have the young man drum for her. Happy to hear hands drumming and happy to remember it. I am nothing if not totally self serving and happiness is the goal.
That's my character. She's addicted to happiness. She does anything and everything to make herself happy. I listen to stand up comedy a couple hours a day. I listened to Ralphie May's new one, Austentatious, last night and laughed my ass off. I seek all the sweetness of life and moreso the older I get.
So what could be sweeter than being in a pharmacy 8 hours a day? I spend countless hours reading and posting on Bluelight. I love drugs. My mom loves drugs. My father has a degree in Narcotics. I might have told you about the textbooks he had with color pictures of pills and powders with lists of street names on the side of the picture and the effects written underneath. My dad wrote his essays on the yellow legal pad and I had to type them up for him. I remember looking for euphoria in the dictionary. I've been looking for euphoria ever since.
She finds it. By any means necessary. With no regret. This is the book I'm writing. I intend to enjoy living it because how could I expect the reader to enjoy it if I'm not enjoying it in 3D? I know the reader might think it is a bad idea to have someone like me working in a pharmacy. That's the beauty. Will I fuck it up? I don't know. There will be happiness. I've been moving through time long enough to know that my movements result in my happiness.
Fresh experiences of course. Fresh experiences. Time only goes forwards.., Appreciating what is yet to come instead of fearing it is the way I live. Appreciating the joyous experiences I had causes me to write about them. I want to use words to put the reader in the car with us. If I could write that well; if I could use words to create euphoria in my reader, I will have succeeded in finding the ultimate euphoria for my own self.
Traveling down thoughts of the university leads me to thoughts of uncharted happiness ahead. I wonder what happens next.
Wind, cold, water. So much water. It is always so wet in June.
It fell quickly and swiftly. I looked out the window from my seat on the 32 floor in the heart of the city. You could see the cross and it felt dark, gloomy and desolate.
Find it hard to concentrate on the tasks at hand on a day like today. The mind just seems to wander aimlessly, thoughtless thinking of little nothings like the mischief we used to get up to when we were young.
Life seemed much easier then. I wonder if we will ever cross paths again. I wonder if you ever wonder about me. Do I cross your mind? This city seems haunted with the ghosts of relationships past, relationship lost, relationships broken.
It fell quickly and swiftly. I looked out the window from my seat on the 32 floor in the heart of the city. You could see the cross and it felt dark, gloomy and desolate.
Find it hard to concentrate on the tasks at hand on a day like today. The mind just seems to wander aimlessly, thoughtless thinking of little nothings like the mischief we used to get up to when we were young.
Life seemed much easier then. I wonder if we will ever cross paths again. I wonder if you ever wonder about me. Do I cross your mind? This city seems haunted with the ghosts of relationships past, relationship lost, relationships broken.
So why is it that certain men feel compeled/obligated to f around with peoples feelings?
Seriously, what is the go with acting interested than falling off the face of the planet??? Not cool!
Make up your mind, dont reply to messages, start making plans then f off just as quickly. I mean sure I did the same thing to you 8 years ago but that was then and this is now. So uh f you. Yep. F U.
Seriously, what is the go with acting interested than falling off the face of the planet??? Not cool!
Make up your mind, dont reply to messages, start making plans then f off just as quickly. I mean sure I did the same thing to you 8 years ago but that was then and this is now. So uh f you. Yep. F U.
hello all,
past few days have been kinda shitty because still having a hard time with what i'm going through. it's still hard adjusting to the way things are right now. its like no one in my family really cares what i'm going through. wouldn't u think that your mother would worry that her son has no food to eat? or where he's laying his head at night? or what he's doing? I know that if i was a father, id atleast worry about how my son is doing, even regardless if he's a heroin addict. id try to make sure that he's got food to eat, like basic shit that doesn't expire, like bread, peanut butter, jelly packets.
Hell been busting my ass since being officially 'on my own', and when i mean by that is i havn't seen a single penny from anyone in my family. so been having to make do with what i got, and right now i don't have a lot. I get by tho, I am working, but due to stormy/rainy weather I cant work because its outside. and the sexy weather lady says severe thunderstorms, i hear the thunder now. ihope that shits north of me. and its not 100% full time work, i get paid by the day, and when theres no work, then theres no $, and no $ equals added stress. im living in,out and around my car and the #1 thing is gas. gotta have it if i plan to go 2 work, go to places etc.
if anyones been keeping up with my blogs then the past few days you know that ive been living in a homeless mission/shelter, and it sucks. not because its a shelter but because im trying so hard to do right, and still i winde back up in a shelter.
its like no matter how hard i try,things just seem to get worst. i don't know why or how i'm still alive today to be honest, ive already tried to OD on heroin and didn't work. I just come to from shit like that and things only get worst.
i think about shit like 'wat if i really wer to die'? what would my friends and family do, and who would come to my funeral? it makes me teary just thinking about it because i can see it now, not saying i want to go kick the bucket but fuck man, a guy can only take in so much stress before it catchs up with him. because i'm an addict, i think and do things a lot differently then 'normal' people. emotions are running rampid, and cant seem to escape the darkness that i'm in. I really don't want to end the story now, but i just dont see any hope anymore. can't say where i'm going to be tonight, just hope that i'm not going to regret anything i end up doing.
i'll continue to do good things, but still waiting on good things being done in return, i guess i'll find out sooner or later. fuck what have i got myself into?
past few days have been kinda shitty because still having a hard time with what i'm going through. it's still hard adjusting to the way things are right now. its like no one in my family really cares what i'm going through. wouldn't u think that your mother would worry that her son has no food to eat? or where he's laying his head at night? or what he's doing? I know that if i was a father, id atleast worry about how my son is doing, even regardless if he's a heroin addict. id try to make sure that he's got food to eat, like basic shit that doesn't expire, like bread, peanut butter, jelly packets.
Hell been busting my ass since being officially 'on my own', and when i mean by that is i havn't seen a single penny from anyone in my family. so been having to make do with what i got, and right now i don't have a lot. I get by tho, I am working, but due to stormy/rainy weather I cant work because its outside. and the sexy weather lady says severe thunderstorms, i hear the thunder now. ihope that shits north of me. and its not 100% full time work, i get paid by the day, and when theres no work, then theres no $, and no $ equals added stress. im living in,out and around my car and the #1 thing is gas. gotta have it if i plan to go 2 work, go to places etc.
if anyones been keeping up with my blogs then the past few days you know that ive been living in a homeless mission/shelter, and it sucks. not because its a shelter but because im trying so hard to do right, and still i winde back up in a shelter.
its like no matter how hard i try,things just seem to get worst. i don't know why or how i'm still alive today to be honest, ive already tried to OD on heroin and didn't work. I just come to from shit like that and things only get worst.
i think about shit like 'wat if i really wer to die'? what would my friends and family do, and who would come to my funeral? it makes me teary just thinking about it because i can see it now, not saying i want to go kick the bucket but fuck man, a guy can only take in so much stress before it catchs up with him. because i'm an addict, i think and do things a lot differently then 'normal' people. emotions are running rampid, and cant seem to escape the darkness that i'm in. I really don't want to end the story now, but i just dont see any hope anymore. can't say where i'm going to be tonight, just hope that i'm not going to regret anything i end up doing.
i'll continue to do good things, but still waiting on good things being done in return, i guess i'll find out sooner or later. fuck what have i got myself into?
there might be some big changes coming soon. i don't want to say what cause i am silly superstitious about jinxing myself. i am also terrible about not babbling things to people. so yeah, that is the cryptic part of the blog entry for the day
i have two weeks of hell-job left. which is good because i have been utterly unpleasant to be around during the week. i come home exhausted and ready to pick fights with anyone who will talk to me. which is part of the reason i have been a bit more scarce around here.
i have two weeks of hell-job left. which is good because i have been utterly unpleasant to be around during the week. i come home exhausted and ready to pick fights with anyone who will talk to me. which is part of the reason i have been a bit more scarce around here.
I had written up this large screed put was thwarted when the site went offline JUST AS I FINISHED. I'm a walking jinx. Anyhoo, I copied and printed it so now I shall dictate my words from 12:00 pm today EST, more or less.
Thanks guys for the kind words;
"The expansion of intellect and .... to be completed tomorrow I've not slept in 2 days and it finally caught up whit me. Selah,
My eys are getting weary to be continued.
Wednesday.
Okay, here I'll bring it back from the lifeless atrophied pages of my notebook:
Thanks guys for the thoughtful sentiments shone upon me, it's this enigmatic place and you friends of mine that do so much for me, it's unreal and you'd doubt the sanctity of my resolve if you weren't privy to my inner most intellectual perceptions, and my innermost passionate humility.
A treatise on bluelight through my own perception, if you will:
Firstly, the effect on the populous (our people, not those others) with the expansion of intellect and critical thought, the unconditional moral and frenetic support and altruistic and pure loving concern bequeathed so gracious an tactfully, that gorgeous and sacred sense of communal intellectualism (or day I say, "intellectual communism?" I'll be downright fucked and and broken before I heed effort towards yellow journalism and their consistently deliberate perversion of our fucking language) that gives rise to the steadfast resolve necessary to combat the devastating and clearly dominant culture we all suffered through via just being born into the strange fuck of a thing. It's a king hell bastard of a community and if were I to have any hope left in me I'd hope and only hope that that the downtrodden will someday realize how much their being fucked and fucked good, penetrated through their minds and inevitably their wallets, and can ban together with the current figure of 13 percent of U.S. citizens who form their ideas based on logic, reason, and the questioning of information fed to them since adolescence.
Perhaps I do have that one pitiful lingering dream left, the dream I hate so much because its gross unlikelihood, but yearn for so much it became an obsession at one point. I can't tell which position is better, but regardless. Ill share the dream with you and only you, and never again because It's something I seldom have interest in anymore than unicorns, santa claus or the 3 little pigs. The beautiful capture of that image, fresh in my mind after two rums packed adequately with ice, a nation built on these principles of which I allude to, of partnership and love and communal ownership of all of our mother we've so far raped backwards and desecrated on a shallow and filthy whim. This beautiful place will be very similar to the utopian Island portrayed in Aldous Huxley's last novel of that same namesake.
Whatever the case, what matters is the paradigm and the possibilities inherent within it, and I'm delighted beyond repose to announce I'll be taking a long excursion in the form of a Kerouac style road trip across this "great" country of ours, fleeing like a parachute failed to meet as many of you as resources and time permits, as well as to explore the shit hole of a country and document every little cunt of a second. Don't worry, I'll have plenty of mescaline to help us beat the drums and hit the town as sincerely and insanely as the very chute that just failed us, finally coming to terms and deciding that a parachutes life isn't for him. Nothings worth it in so desperate a social spot, and deciding it just wasn't worth it any more is a reasonable gig in my books, especially as of late.
I'm sure many can sense this new found limitless resolve I'm utilizing and there are a few reasons for this. One being suddenly and without reason summarily dismissed from my place of business by a pack of imbecilic greed-mongers and progress junkies, with no brains and the morals of a slut on acid, doing so under the grossest of terms ("You're fired you old fuck get your piles outta' here). Extortion and bribery are wonderful ways to fire some fuck who you decided you didn't like, (I'm guessing bigotry but lord knows why), lying shamelessly about money supposedly missing from drops I had made (I never lose money, ever.) and using the extortionist method of threatening to call the fucking heat on me so I have the privilege of arguing against people who are certainly not on my side and sadistically so, have no problem stripping me of the last freedom I own, the ability to walk around peacefully and not bother anyone. The other option given, the one they needed so badly as to threaten me with being shackled and beaten and denied of any human rights I supposedly have, all 2 weeks before I would have qualified for unemployment. This is your culture America, read it and wheep, but while you're balling your eyes out of existence, remember that it's yours. Adlay stevenson once said that in a democracy, people get hte kind of government they deserve, and I'm leaning more towards agreeing with that sentiment than ever before. I had a premonition that morning and knew everything that transpired 4 ours earlier already. I also had my faithful voice recorder application in my phone so I've the whole thing on tape. Those filthy beasts will find their way into a book of mine someday, and I'll be even generous enough to not charge for the copies I send. Well, enough of this rancid gibberish.
All tangents aside, thanks for the complimentary remarks guys. Each soft touch roots its loving warm through my to my heart. I certainly love you all and not just because I have to, but because you're truly deserving of it in the highest order.
Watch out where the huskies go.
Thou
Thanks guys for the kind words;
"The expansion of intellect and .... to be completed tomorrow I've not slept in 2 days and it finally caught up whit me. Selah,
My eys are getting weary to be continued.
Wednesday.
Okay, here I'll bring it back from the lifeless atrophied pages of my notebook:
Thanks guys for the thoughtful sentiments shone upon me, it's this enigmatic place and you friends of mine that do so much for me, it's unreal and you'd doubt the sanctity of my resolve if you weren't privy to my inner most intellectual perceptions, and my innermost passionate humility.
A treatise on bluelight through my own perception, if you will:
Firstly, the effect on the populous (our people, not those others) with the expansion of intellect and critical thought, the unconditional moral and frenetic support and altruistic and pure loving concern bequeathed so gracious an tactfully, that gorgeous and sacred sense of communal intellectualism (or day I say, "intellectual communism?" I'll be downright fucked and and broken before I heed effort towards yellow journalism and their consistently deliberate perversion of our fucking language) that gives rise to the steadfast resolve necessary to combat the devastating and clearly dominant culture we all suffered through via just being born into the strange fuck of a thing. It's a king hell bastard of a community and if were I to have any hope left in me I'd hope and only hope that that the downtrodden will someday realize how much their being fucked and fucked good, penetrated through their minds and inevitably their wallets, and can ban together with the current figure of 13 percent of U.S. citizens who form their ideas based on logic, reason, and the questioning of information fed to them since adolescence.
Perhaps I do have that one pitiful lingering dream left, the dream I hate so much because its gross unlikelihood, but yearn for so much it became an obsession at one point. I can't tell which position is better, but regardless. Ill share the dream with you and only you, and never again because It's something I seldom have interest in anymore than unicorns, santa claus or the 3 little pigs. The beautiful capture of that image, fresh in my mind after two rums packed adequately with ice, a nation built on these principles of which I allude to, of partnership and love and communal ownership of all of our mother we've so far raped backwards and desecrated on a shallow and filthy whim. This beautiful place will be very similar to the utopian Island portrayed in Aldous Huxley's last novel of that same namesake.
Whatever the case, what matters is the paradigm and the possibilities inherent within it, and I'm delighted beyond repose to announce I'll be taking a long excursion in the form of a Kerouac style road trip across this "great" country of ours, fleeing like a parachute failed to meet as many of you as resources and time permits, as well as to explore the shit hole of a country and document every little cunt of a second. Don't worry, I'll have plenty of mescaline to help us beat the drums and hit the town as sincerely and insanely as the very chute that just failed us, finally coming to terms and deciding that a parachutes life isn't for him. Nothings worth it in so desperate a social spot, and deciding it just wasn't worth it any more is a reasonable gig in my books, especially as of late.
I'm sure many can sense this new found limitless resolve I'm utilizing and there are a few reasons for this. One being suddenly and without reason summarily dismissed from my place of business by a pack of imbecilic greed-mongers and progress junkies, with no brains and the morals of a slut on acid, doing so under the grossest of terms ("You're fired you old fuck get your piles outta' here). Extortion and bribery are wonderful ways to fire some fuck who you decided you didn't like, (I'm guessing bigotry but lord knows why), lying shamelessly about money supposedly missing from drops I had made (I never lose money, ever.) and using the extortionist method of threatening to call the fucking heat on me so I have the privilege of arguing against people who are certainly not on my side and sadistically so, have no problem stripping me of the last freedom I own, the ability to walk around peacefully and not bother anyone. The other option given, the one they needed so badly as to threaten me with being shackled and beaten and denied of any human rights I supposedly have, all 2 weeks before I would have qualified for unemployment. This is your culture America, read it and wheep, but while you're balling your eyes out of existence, remember that it's yours. Adlay stevenson once said that in a democracy, people get hte kind of government they deserve, and I'm leaning more towards agreeing with that sentiment than ever before. I had a premonition that morning and knew everything that transpired 4 ours earlier already. I also had my faithful voice recorder application in my phone so I've the whole thing on tape. Those filthy beasts will find their way into a book of mine someday, and I'll be even generous enough to not charge for the copies I send. Well, enough of this rancid gibberish.
All tangents aside, thanks for the complimentary remarks guys. Each soft touch roots its loving warm through my to my heart. I certainly love you all and not just because I have to, but because you're truly deserving of it in the highest order.
Watch out where the huskies go.
Thou
She tasted good, real good. I could have had her on the stairs. I went to bite her neck (softly at first) and she resisted. Clear sign of a woman who is NOT disturbed enough for my sexual preference. Regardless, she was a fantastic kisser. I am not one to hold myself to the highest moral standards, but please, why get flustered when you can’t give me an erection when you’re attempting to do so standing on the staircase of a busy nightclub? I can talk woody down pretty easily when I need to. God I needed that pussy though. I suppose the intense ten minute French kiss fest delivered some much needed sexual gratification. “You gotta work for it,” is what she said. Gotta thank her for that advice, it’s damn true in many ways.
Rebecca was her name. Good fucking god man, a bottom to die for. Probably not the most intelligent, or self-respecting girl (on an internet network with 400+ followers she has a picture of her beautiful apple derriere seductively shrouded in dripping wet black underwear.) If I lived alone I have no doubt we would have had sex, however bringing home a twenty-five year old I had met twenty minutes before to fuck in my room with my parents next door – then introducing her the next morning to them… is something I knew wouldn’t happen, something I couldn’t face, not yet. So I lied, said I had work the next day. Maybe she knew I was lying, I don’t know. The taste of her lips and tongue on mine was amazing though.
good god, if it was you, thank you for showing me I am still alive and capable of pulling women!
Rebecca was her name. Good fucking god man, a bottom to die for. Probably not the most intelligent, or self-respecting girl (on an internet network with 400+ followers she has a picture of her beautiful apple derriere seductively shrouded in dripping wet black underwear.) If I lived alone I have no doubt we would have had sex, however bringing home a twenty-five year old I had met twenty minutes before to fuck in my room with my parents next door – then introducing her the next morning to them… is something I knew wouldn’t happen, something I couldn’t face, not yet. So I lied, said I had work the next day. Maybe she knew I was lying, I don’t know. The taste of her lips and tongue on mine was amazing though.
good god, if it was you, thank you for showing me I am still alive and capable of pulling women!
When I was a kid summer vacation felt like paradise forever each time it was a week away from approaching. Hell as a kid 10 years and under, a fricken hour seemed like a long, slow eternal death sentence each time I was punished for rough housing and pissing off one adult authority or another, & experiencing this feeling of extreme dread the couple times I was handed down this "death sentence" hearing, "TJ! WHILE THE REST OF THE CLASS DOES ARTS & CRAFTS, YOU ARE TO STAND IN THE CORNER FOR 1 HR. DO NOT FACE ANYWHERE BUT THE CORNER, YOU MAY NOT LEAVE, YOU MAY NOT SPEAK TO ANYONE STARTING NOW. IF YOU TALK, TURN AROUND, OR LOOK ANYWHERE OTHER THAN THE CORNER, I WILL WRITE A PROGRESS LETTER THAT MUST BE TAKEN HOME, RETURNED TOMORROW WITH YOUR PARENT'S SIGNATURES!"
First grade at Sierra Vista Elementary School in 1971. My teacher's name was Mrs. Potts. Like all Tarantinos, courtesy of Tony the pony, and I say that phrase without bitterness whatsoever, merely an expression of my wrapped, twisted sense of humour Tony, no doubt would interpret as disrespectful and offensive---if he were still talking, emailing, or having any sort of "relationship" with his biological daughter, yours truly, which hasn't been the case since 1998, I believe. The last communication I can recall at this time had been via phone call---the day I'd officially been given the boot by the 4 women, a fellowette coworker who had also been a live in employee for some 10 odd years in a detatched room off the house. Then there were these 2 old, 80 something year old lady sisters, 1 tolerable, the other incontinent & dependent on whoever had been her assigned (limey-dego) nigger of the week for diaper change, mobility, or whatever was needed in the middle of the night---and day.
Perhaps you might be suspecting who this aryan-whop piss girl slave is? If you guessed Madonna or Rosanne Arnold, you're close, except Rosanne is thinner than I am and Madonna is way more shy and materialistic than the wild woman they had had for 4 whole days! (Probably the record breaking quickest sap to get the boot) Give up? Ha ha. Brace yourself for a shock, dear blog reader of "TweaxStay" aka TJ---that "aid" had been booted from even white slavery gig I had goin on for an entire 4 daze & nights, & yes, although they knew something had been off about yours truly--guilty as hell on that count, I admit. Showing up at 7pm TST my first day (TST=Tweaker Standard Time) at what should have been 10am + the fact I had seen nothing wrong with wearing a sari, a genuine dress, head covering from India given to me by a lady from India, which my Mom later told me had scared the old ladies LMAO.
Gotta laugh at my stupid ass mistakes. Back then I thought as long as I don't show up dressed like a slut or donning trampware, fully covered, which I was then what possible objection or problem could anyone have with that? Tweaker logic may be tolerated by my then tweaker friends/community, however it didn't quite sink in back then that those that are not on planet TweaxStay don't remotely see eye to eye as rules on grounded Normiville, are outright bizarre at best and no doubt a serious nut case at worst. These behaviors of the Meth Head Zone and it's peculiar insanities or if rich eccentricities, were what would one day get me flagged by those in the cop culture as a dope fiend at age 41 and busted.
I digressed completely, a common occurance when on painkillers, just enough for a pleasant buzz, lol. I had been totally at fault and realized what an idiot I had been not to see that not conforming enough to blend when stepping outside my chemically induced jail, my preference over the outside & had I the means to not have to leave, I wouldn't. I'd just stay chemically happy inside as much as possible & content to be limited to no more than a half a teener a week of tweak and the 120 pain pills a month I get and have been satisfied with. Anyway, my fault big time for alot of that 4 days--but also not 100% guilty, in they were very selfish, demanding, boring old bitches, which is why no doubt my coworker had told me I had been replacement #10 since the prior live in that had lasted a few years but going to RN school. I had made a long distance phone call to Tony my last day, spoke to him on the phone 2 hours and he asked if I was going to get in trouble for talking so long. "What are they going to do," I asked, "fire me?" He chuckled. "I see your point."
First grade at Sierra Vista Elementary School in 1971. My teacher's name was Mrs. Potts. Like all Tarantinos, courtesy of Tony the pony, and I say that phrase without bitterness whatsoever, merely an expression of my wrapped, twisted sense of humour Tony, no doubt would interpret as disrespectful and offensive---if he were still talking, emailing, or having any sort of "relationship" with his biological daughter, yours truly, which hasn't been the case since 1998, I believe. The last communication I can recall at this time had been via phone call---the day I'd officially been given the boot by the 4 women, a fellowette coworker who had also been a live in employee for some 10 odd years in a detatched room off the house. Then there were these 2 old, 80 something year old lady sisters, 1 tolerable, the other incontinent & dependent on whoever had been her assigned (limey-dego) nigger of the week for diaper change, mobility, or whatever was needed in the middle of the night---and day.
Perhaps you might be suspecting who this aryan-whop piss girl slave is? If you guessed Madonna or Rosanne Arnold, you're close, except Rosanne is thinner than I am and Madonna is way more shy and materialistic than the wild woman they had had for 4 whole days! (Probably the record breaking quickest sap to get the boot) Give up? Ha ha. Brace yourself for a shock, dear blog reader of "TweaxStay" aka TJ---that "aid" had been booted from even white slavery gig I had goin on for an entire 4 daze & nights, & yes, although they knew something had been off about yours truly--guilty as hell on that count, I admit. Showing up at 7pm TST my first day (TST=Tweaker Standard Time) at what should have been 10am + the fact I had seen nothing wrong with wearing a sari, a genuine dress, head covering from India given to me by a lady from India, which my Mom later told me had scared the old ladies LMAO.
Gotta laugh at my stupid ass mistakes. Back then I thought as long as I don't show up dressed like a slut or donning trampware, fully covered, which I was then what possible objection or problem could anyone have with that? Tweaker logic may be tolerated by my then tweaker friends/community, however it didn't quite sink in back then that those that are not on planet TweaxStay don't remotely see eye to eye as rules on grounded Normiville, are outright bizarre at best and no doubt a serious nut case at worst. These behaviors of the Meth Head Zone and it's peculiar insanities or if rich eccentricities, were what would one day get me flagged by those in the cop culture as a dope fiend at age 41 and busted.
I digressed completely, a common occurance when on painkillers, just enough for a pleasant buzz, lol. I had been totally at fault and realized what an idiot I had been not to see that not conforming enough to blend when stepping outside my chemically induced jail, my preference over the outside & had I the means to not have to leave, I wouldn't. I'd just stay chemically happy inside as much as possible & content to be limited to no more than a half a teener a week of tweak and the 120 pain pills a month I get and have been satisfied with. Anyway, my fault big time for alot of that 4 days--but also not 100% guilty, in they were very selfish, demanding, boring old bitches, which is why no doubt my coworker had told me I had been replacement #10 since the prior live in that had lasted a few years but going to RN school. I had made a long distance phone call to Tony my last day, spoke to him on the phone 2 hours and he asked if I was going to get in trouble for talking so long. "What are they going to do," I asked, "fire me?" He chuckled. "I see your point."
It's funny to go on a forum and see children telling their peers to go try bath salts "because they're cheap" all the while probably thinking that they're actually bath salts and sneaking into mommy's bathroom and snorting a handful of epsom salts. Actually it's not funny, it's horrible. Shithead little kids like that that aren't controlled on the internet are the reason you see teenagers dying from things every once in a while. It's not cool.
like the feeling of dread as an already dull and jagged needle briefly scrapes against a spoon as you're trying to push around a tiny wad of cotton all across the metal surface in an attempt to collect every last bit of moisture
LOL at dickheads on yahoo answers, agreed. Water deprivation I understand will bring on hallucinations
just like fasting, although I dont remember ever going without water more than 24hrs & although thirsty
did not reach an altered state. I tried drug free mmeditation during the 2yrs I was completely drug an al-
cohol free & failed miserably at being able to accomplish the ability to eradicate ALL thoughts from my damn
non-stop thinking brain, BUT the closest thing I did manage by accident some 30 yrs ago was going into a hypnotic
trance sitting in the very small but cozy waiting room of my psychologist. It was dark, I was alone in the waiting room
and didnt turn on the light because I became focused on the mini Xmas tree with its rapid blinking multicolored
lights--just gazing and fixated on the lights to the point where I was in a trance--and without the aid of drugs. It wasnt
planned so probably why I was able to be so relaxed. Thats something I wanna try again.
just like fasting, although I dont remember ever going without water more than 24hrs & although thirsty
did not reach an altered state. I tried drug free mmeditation during the 2yrs I was completely drug an al-
cohol free & failed miserably at being able to accomplish the ability to eradicate ALL thoughts from my damn
non-stop thinking brain, BUT the closest thing I did manage by accident some 30 yrs ago was going into a hypnotic
trance sitting in the very small but cozy waiting room of my psychologist. It was dark, I was alone in the waiting room
and didnt turn on the light because I became focused on the mini Xmas tree with its rapid blinking multicolored
lights--just gazing and fixated on the lights to the point where I was in a trance--and without the aid of drugs. It wasnt
planned so probably why I was able to be so relaxed. Thats something I wanna try again.
But I think I am going to use them to help me get my life under control instead of rambling on in TDS.
So Tonight, to do: clean room, shower, brush teeth, etc.
(tomorrow) Monday: figure out how to get to the mall from new place, buy alarm clock and wall planner thing-a-ma-bob plus "to-do" list stationary.
Tuesday: get ready for work, go to work.
And that's enough for now, I should be able to manage with that.
So Tonight, to do: clean room, shower, brush teeth, etc.
(tomorrow) Monday: figure out how to get to the mall from new place, buy alarm clock and wall planner thing-a-ma-bob plus "to-do" list stationary.
Tuesday: get ready for work, go to work.
And that's enough for now, I should be able to manage with that.
I think I want to get clean.
Not completely clean, of course, but I want to not be physically dependent on opioids any more.
I'm looking for a job like a maniac. I feel like once I have a job, I can limit my use to once a week or perhaps less. I don't know. My brain is ridiculously fried right now... I can't think straight. Maybe it's because it's so hot here so early in the season... 90 degrees in NYC in May?! Hell no! I don't even feel like posting this because there isn't any fucking actual content...
Sigh. So I wait, wait and wait some more. Biding my time. What do I do? I'm probably a lost cause...
Not completely clean, of course, but I want to not be physically dependent on opioids any more.
I'm looking for a job like a maniac. I feel like once I have a job, I can limit my use to once a week or perhaps less. I don't know. My brain is ridiculously fried right now... I can't think straight. Maybe it's because it's so hot here so early in the season... 90 degrees in NYC in May?! Hell no! I don't even feel like posting this because there isn't any fucking actual content...
Sigh. So I wait, wait and wait some more. Biding my time. What do I do? I'm probably a lost cause...
It is truly insane how much opiates kill your senses. Colors are so much more... colorful. I can't describe it. I'm sitting in my backyard right now, which is huge and has a bunch of different plants and flowers and such, and the colors are so vibrant and overwhelming that it's almost hard to look at... but in a good way. It's like, devastatingly beautiful.
It's just too bad that feeling emotions again can't be as beautiful. Hah. I swear, if I were to see a psychologist right now I would be diagnosed with rapid-cycling bipolar disorder immediately. My emotions go from one extreme to the other all day. One minute I'm all like, "oh life is so beautiful and amazing and I have a great future ahead of me because I'm sober", and the next I'm like "oh woe is me, I will never be able to dig myself out of the mess I put myself in, I might as well go out and use since I hate my life anyways."
It's a bit hard to keep up with.
I'm still feeling some symptoms of withdrawal as well, but I'm accrediting that to the Subutex/Suboxone they had me on in detox and rehab. It's not unbearable, aside from the anxiety part. Just slight cold sweats and chills.
It does get a little bit better everyday though. I have a good, sober support system to lean on. I have tons of shit I can do that I was putting off while I was getting high. And of course, there's always finding a new job and going back to school, things that were impossible while on H.
But hey, it looks like I'm going to make it out alive this time...
It's just too bad that feeling emotions again can't be as beautiful. Hah. I swear, if I were to see a psychologist right now I would be diagnosed with rapid-cycling bipolar disorder immediately. My emotions go from one extreme to the other all day. One minute I'm all like, "oh life is so beautiful and amazing and I have a great future ahead of me because I'm sober", and the next I'm like "oh woe is me, I will never be able to dig myself out of the mess I put myself in, I might as well go out and use since I hate my life anyways."
It's a bit hard to keep up with.
I'm still feeling some symptoms of withdrawal as well, but I'm accrediting that to the Subutex/Suboxone they had me on in detox and rehab. It's not unbearable, aside from the anxiety part. Just slight cold sweats and chills.
It does get a little bit better everyday though. I have a good, sober support system to lean on. I have tons of shit I can do that I was putting off while I was getting high. And of course, there's always finding a new job and going back to school, things that were impossible while on H.
But hey, it looks like I'm going to make it out alive this time...
hello,this is kind of long but bare with me if you have plans, or just want to know what to expect staying in a homeless shelter., i figure that since i have alot of experience in sleeping in these places and surviving then i could give some experience, strength and hope.
just know that your not alone in what ever your dealing with if you have to go to a shelter, 99.9% of the people that are staying there are just like you in a way, down on their luck/hope w,e u want to call it and need a place to shower and sleep.
I've stayed in a number of homeless shelters across the state, and they are all the same except for one thing, they are either a 'faith based' type place or not. places that are 'faith based' usually have the word 'mission' somewhere in the name, and places that arn't usually are just shelters (the shelters have ties with AA,CA, and NA). Mostly everyone that stays there is either on drugs, have had drugs, looking for drugs, selling drugs, etc.etc. so theres alot of druggies there. Mostly crack because about 75% of the people that stay there are black, the other %'s are white, and some other races. I cant compare it to prison because i've never been, and the times i've gone to jail was just over night in the drunk tank.
usually check in times at those places is anywhere from 3pm-5:30pm, and i really recommend that you be hanging around the corner at 2:45 so at 3 you can mosey your way there. some places are different then others, like the salvation army has a limited # of beds, while the missions here in town have tons n tons of matts that u can sleep in the floor. If you happen to get a bed then thats good, but regardless if you get a matt then your still going to lay somewhere sopmewhat soft that night.
don't let them know that you are on any medication or have a cellphone because they will take that shit, so just act like you dont have but the bag ur holding in your hand. I highly suggest that you atleast have the basic toliteries in a bag, but if not the shelters will provide shampoo and soap etc. its no herbal essince but its something to clean ur hair/wash with. Also if your penis shy i reccomend that you either try to take ur draws off, or just wash ur hair n the sink or something. someplaces have single showers while others have like one huge shower area with 12+ shower heads, shower shoes are helpful, but if not then fuck it.
after you shower, and give ur towel to the staff and they know u showerd then they will give u a meal ticket, or just tell u to go line up for dinner. the food isnt the best, but its a hot meal atleast, the mission that ive been staying at had mashd potatoes and country fried chicken? or patty? for dinner, and chicken,rice,and gravy for breakfast.
your not staying there for the food, so try not to worry about it, hell some days like holidays, ull eat pretty good because people donate food, like since today is being memorial day they said that ther would be bbq and stuff for dinner. so im actully pretty excited about that.
if your able to i suggest that you grab some ear plugs, and some kind of sleep medication, weather its benedryl or trazadone or w,e that will help u get to sleep better, since crack is huge here, and most of the people that been smoking the shit since the 80's have problems snooring lol wonder y? theres alot of snooring, and farting, and people talking. but like around 12am or so everyone shuts up before they get the enitre dorm on their ass.
now while ur there try to do something active like bring a book to read, or something to keep your mind away from the shelter, like me ive been reading the second hunger games book. and its damn good, im glad that it pulls me away from having to deal with shelter life. if you have some drugs then take them, and dont let anyone there see you. i dont reccommend shooting up at those places just because if you get caught or something were to happen then not only youd be asked to leave, but the police might show up, or even worse someone might steal ur wallet.
o forgot to mention that alot of places do require u to provide them with a ID of somesort, like drivers ID,non-drivers,Military ID, just like u were going to cash a check. and a SS#, i never give my real SS#, so u dont have to worry, just remember that # so if u stay there the next night then they wont be like 'so u got 2 ss#"S, for example i use all of my real SS # up till the last 2 digits.
You might meet some cool people there, or u might meet someone thats trying to take advantage of u, so stay on ur p's n q's while ur there, if you arnt trying to get into their drug/rehab program then they make u leave after breakfast which is like 7am, o lights out is at 10:30pm, and they wake u up at 5:30am,. here lately ive been having to sleep in a hallway with the lights on, so it sucks getting to sleep. i do have some trazadone that does knock my ass out, but wakes me up feeling druggy, hate that shit.
so most shelters have a period of time that they allow you to stay there, like some only let you stay a week, while another might let you stay for 2 weeks, and some others only for a few days before they want you to get into their program(which can last anywhere from 28 days up to a year), some of their programs are good, gives you a place to stay, but your not able to work or do anything(like leave freely) until late down the road.
also if you have any money, keep that shit close, dont leave any valuable just sitting on ur bed, like wallet,or jewlry. but its okay for somestuff like a bag of cloths or something.
theres alot of women only shelters so if ur a guy look for a guy shelter or a co op shelter, because they wont let a dude stay witha bunch of girls.
like i said, your there because you need a place like that, your not trying to hook up with the 'cool guys' there, just use it as a place to stay from dinner-breakfast, and use the rest of the day out doing shit.
thats really all i know about staying in shelters, if i know of something extra i'll add to it later.
goodluck where ever you are, and if you have to stay at a shelter, know that the shit isnt' forever.
ds
just know that your not alone in what ever your dealing with if you have to go to a shelter, 99.9% of the people that are staying there are just like you in a way, down on their luck/hope w,e u want to call it and need a place to shower and sleep.
I've stayed in a number of homeless shelters across the state, and they are all the same except for one thing, they are either a 'faith based' type place or not. places that are 'faith based' usually have the word 'mission' somewhere in the name, and places that arn't usually are just shelters (the shelters have ties with AA,CA, and NA). Mostly everyone that stays there is either on drugs, have had drugs, looking for drugs, selling drugs, etc.etc. so theres alot of druggies there. Mostly crack because about 75% of the people that stay there are black, the other %'s are white, and some other races. I cant compare it to prison because i've never been, and the times i've gone to jail was just over night in the drunk tank.
usually check in times at those places is anywhere from 3pm-5:30pm, and i really recommend that you be hanging around the corner at 2:45 so at 3 you can mosey your way there. some places are different then others, like the salvation army has a limited # of beds, while the missions here in town have tons n tons of matts that u can sleep in the floor. If you happen to get a bed then thats good, but regardless if you get a matt then your still going to lay somewhere sopmewhat soft that night.
don't let them know that you are on any medication or have a cellphone because they will take that shit, so just act like you dont have but the bag ur holding in your hand. I highly suggest that you atleast have the basic toliteries in a bag, but if not the shelters will provide shampoo and soap etc. its no herbal essince but its something to clean ur hair/wash with. Also if your penis shy i reccomend that you either try to take ur draws off, or just wash ur hair n the sink or something. someplaces have single showers while others have like one huge shower area with 12+ shower heads, shower shoes are helpful, but if not then fuck it.
after you shower, and give ur towel to the staff and they know u showerd then they will give u a meal ticket, or just tell u to go line up for dinner. the food isnt the best, but its a hot meal atleast, the mission that ive been staying at had mashd potatoes and country fried chicken? or patty? for dinner, and chicken,rice,and gravy for breakfast.
your not staying there for the food, so try not to worry about it, hell some days like holidays, ull eat pretty good because people donate food, like since today is being memorial day they said that ther would be bbq and stuff for dinner. so im actully pretty excited about that.
if your able to i suggest that you grab some ear plugs, and some kind of sleep medication, weather its benedryl or trazadone or w,e that will help u get to sleep better, since crack is huge here, and most of the people that been smoking the shit since the 80's have problems snooring lol wonder y? theres alot of snooring, and farting, and people talking. but like around 12am or so everyone shuts up before they get the enitre dorm on their ass.
now while ur there try to do something active like bring a book to read, or something to keep your mind away from the shelter, like me ive been reading the second hunger games book. and its damn good, im glad that it pulls me away from having to deal with shelter life. if you have some drugs then take them, and dont let anyone there see you. i dont reccommend shooting up at those places just because if you get caught or something were to happen then not only youd be asked to leave, but the police might show up, or even worse someone might steal ur wallet.
o forgot to mention that alot of places do require u to provide them with a ID of somesort, like drivers ID,non-drivers,Military ID, just like u were going to cash a check. and a SS#, i never give my real SS#, so u dont have to worry, just remember that # so if u stay there the next night then they wont be like 'so u got 2 ss#"S, for example i use all of my real SS # up till the last 2 digits.
You might meet some cool people there, or u might meet someone thats trying to take advantage of u, so stay on ur p's n q's while ur there, if you arnt trying to get into their drug/rehab program then they make u leave after breakfast which is like 7am, o lights out is at 10:30pm, and they wake u up at 5:30am,. here lately ive been having to sleep in a hallway with the lights on, so it sucks getting to sleep. i do have some trazadone that does knock my ass out, but wakes me up feeling druggy, hate that shit.
so most shelters have a period of time that they allow you to stay there, like some only let you stay a week, while another might let you stay for 2 weeks, and some others only for a few days before they want you to get into their program(which can last anywhere from 28 days up to a year), some of their programs are good, gives you a place to stay, but your not able to work or do anything(like leave freely) until late down the road.
also if you have any money, keep that shit close, dont leave any valuable just sitting on ur bed, like wallet,or jewlry. but its okay for somestuff like a bag of cloths or something.
theres alot of women only shelters so if ur a guy look for a guy shelter or a co op shelter, because they wont let a dude stay witha bunch of girls.
like i said, your there because you need a place like that, your not trying to hook up with the 'cool guys' there, just use it as a place to stay from dinner-breakfast, and use the rest of the day out doing shit.
thats really all i know about staying in shelters, if i know of something extra i'll add to it later.
goodluck where ever you are, and if you have to stay at a shelter, know that the shit isnt' forever.
ds