Blogs

It is the same bathroom I have injected in thousands of times. The same bathroom I collapsed a vein. I am drunk, again, so I have to be careful. I try a couple of veins under my elbow, resting the pick against the muscles in my forearm. It doesn’t work. They’ve shrunk, either that or I’m just pissed; probably both. After a couple of failed attempts I decide to mimic the doctor. This crazed speed freak junky that I met on Victoria Street; I recreate his shot. And it works perfectly.

My mind is clear. There is no anxiety. No withdrawals from other shit. I am a fucking skyscraper. I am God. I am everything. I start racing around the room like a fly confined by architecture. Then, quickly, I mix up the rest of the bag. The second shot is as perfect as the first. It slips in and out, just as demonstrated. Blood, one second; gone the next. My body is pulsing with euphoric waves. I jump in the shower and lose myself. I don’t know how much time passes: maybe an hour; probably more like two minutes. Either way, it feels amazing. I am God.

I walk into a pub and grab another beer, drinking as I continue on my journey. By this point my left foot is starting to hurt from over-exertion. I have been walking for hours, non-stop, with nothing to eat or drink but beer. I am exhausted and dehydrated; the roof of my mouth sticks to my tongue and my tongue sticks to my teeth. Just as I’m about to give up, I see a skinny junky-looking guy stumbling through traffic towards me. His girlfriend is holding a long-neck. They are both fucked off their brains on amphetamines. I stop them and ask if they can help me get some smack.

Their faces light up. They say, “We’re glad to help; you asked the right person.” The guy took the reins from then on. He told me everything about himself. He boasted being a member of a bike gang; boasted that he beats the shit out of people on a regular basis. I took it with a grain of salt. The guy, he’s smaller than me. And I’m fucking small.

We walk around Richmond looking for smack. He tells me that he can get me some gear but it’d be much easier to get some speed. I tell him I don’t want speed, but – honestly – at this point, I’ll take what I can get. I want to fucking get off. I want some serious chemicals. He says, “Heroin dealers; they’re kind of weird.” I tell him, I know; paranoid fuckers, smack dealers. Especially when they’re dealing with somebody like me: halfway between junky and narc. I’m hard to place. I don’t fit the usual junky bill. On the other hand, I don’t look like a narc either. Narcs are fucking incompetent. They’ve got no idea how to integrate themselves into the scene.

We travel about, him telling me stories, me acting aloof. He tries to scare me, not because he’s a scary cunt but because he’s not. He makes up for his apparent accessibility by acting up the psychotic angle. He tells me about Chopper Reed, like that’s supposed to startle me or something. Everybody in Melbourne has a story about Chopper Reed. Most of them are as believable as Chopper’s stories. If anything, the mention of the phony cunt gets me thinking that this guy’s not so bad; that he’s just a lackey. Chopper is the kind of criminal-icon, that people who aren’t criminals associate with criminality. He’s an entry level nut-job. I know this. I’ve heard hundreds of Chopper stories that are supposed to startle me; they don’t.

The story keeps changing. He says we’re going to get so much speed or so much smack, then he contradicts himself. He’s fucked off his head. He doesn’t know what he’s saying, but he knows that he wants to impress me. His girlfriend, or whatever the fuck she is, she keeps to herself; she gives me these smug looks like I’m out of my element. Like, I don’t know what’s going on. In reality I’m on top of shit, and they aren’t.

The mission goes on, and on, and on. We run into this guy on Victoria street who looks like he has some sort of serious medical condition. His right shoulder is much higher than his left; his eyes keep darting about in his head like ping pong balls. He tells us, he can get us some speed. I tell my new friend: I don’t want any fucking speed. I want some smack. Regardless we go on a little detour with this disabled looking mother fucker: wandering through tiny streets; interacting with junkies. Eventually my new friend says, “Fuck this.” He tells me that we’re on a goose chase. That this cunt, the one that looks like he has a mild case of cerebral palsy, is going to fuck us.

We say goodbye to that mission and return to the original one. Meanwhile, I start to become anxious. Despite the beer and the weed, I am getting a little concerned. This is not my territory. I am a human on an alien planet. These people, they are unrecognizable to me. They are all freaks.

My new friend, he tells me we’re almost there. He’s always saying that, though. We’re almost there. We’re almost there. Like a fucking broken record. He recognizes my apprehension and is amused by it. They both are: husband and wife; Mr and Mrs Junky. I don’t give up. I don’t call it quits. This mission, I have decided, will end one way or another.

At one point I hear this smacking sound. Flesh against flesh. I turn back to see Mrs Junky pounding a fist into the palm of her hand. It’s supposed to frighten me; it does. But I keep going. There’s no turning back now. I didn’t do all of this for nothing. Mr Junky, he tells me we have to go down some alleyway to get to where we’re going. I tell him I’d rather take the long way. He says okay like a man pats a dog; he says okay but I know, he doesn’t mean it.

After some time, we get to the alleyway. It’s not as bad as I fantasized. It’s well-lit; a short passage through the fortress. This halfway house that my new friend lives in, we meander through it; past police, which he denies exist. The police are clearly the major source of his paranoia. In between denials of the blue and white checkers, he gets seriously concerned. Mrs Junky has long since departed. When she left, I figured she didn’t want to witness the crime; that she didn’t want to see her boyfriend, or whatever the fuck, beat the shit out of some poor cunt. But the thing is I’m ready to beat the shit out of him. I’m ready to take a punch in the face and send one back, his way. Prior to arriving in the alleyway, I take off my glasses and put them in my pocket so they don’t break against his knuckles. But, to my surprise, there is no fist fight.

This guy I met on the street, he leads me into a dim-lit flat. He tells me before we get there that I should give him my cash. I say no. I say, fuck that, I’m not giving up my hard earned dollars to someone I just me. No offence and what not. He keeps trying to convince me to give him the cash. He says this guy, the speed dealer, is fucking paranoid as shit. I tell him I don’t give a fuck. I’m not handing over notes on the street to someone I just met. No offence and what not. He accepts this.
We get inside and the cunt is as paranoid as he described. He keeps eyeing me like I’m a fucking narc. The whole time, he’s looking at me waiting to pounce; waiting to pull a knife; waiting to make some signal to his dodgy friends sitting in the dark corners of his flat. These guys they don’t say anything, even when spoken to. They are like statues; ominous fucking statues. Still, I keep my cool. I don’t react. I just keep going for the junk, like junkies do.

The countertop is covered with some kind of slime. The dealer, he grabs a rag and wipes it down smearing the slime across the linoleum in streaks. Then, he plops down a pair of scales and weighs us up. My anxiety is decreasing. I realise, in this moment, that I’m not some fucking mark. My new friend, he hasn’t been lying. He hasn’t been setting me up to get fucked over. This: is just a deal.

We get our bags and go back to the fortress. My new friend, he lives up there; near the top floor. I walk with him past the endless series of security checks; up a slow moving elevator, to his front door. His apartment is hardly furnished. There is rubbish lying everywhere; dirty dishes towering over the sink: it reminds me of home.

He starts stressing about the whereabouts of a spoon, then he realizes it is at the bottom of the pile of unwashed dishes. Reaching his hand into the sink full of stagnant dish water he produces a rusty looking spoon. He tells me that I can whack up too. He doesn’t mind. I say, “No thanks, man. I’m alright.” I make up some excuse about having limited time, which he accepts because I have an honorary degree in lying; I should’ve been a lawyer.

Leading up to this moment, he’s been telling me that he’s a doctor. He’s so good at hitting veins that he’s some kind of God. I take it with the same grain of salt that I take everything he says. Until I see him do it. He rolls up his sleeve to reveal a big fucking hole in his arm. And I mean big, like Requiem for a Dream size. The needle slips in and out in three seconds. Blood flows into the chamber like he’s turning on a tap. And it’s done. But that’s not good enough for him. He’s been shooting speed for three days, without sleep. Mrs Junky confirmed this earlier.

There are no other tracks on his arm; just one big fucking hole, like an orifice. He squirts more water into the spoon and mops a bit of cotton around to get the last bits. Slams the pick into the same hole and shoots up again. He looks at me like I should give him some of my bag. I look at him like there’s no way in fucking hell that’s going to happen. He understands. Before I leave, he tries to sell me a baseball cap, clearly stolen, then a pair of shoes. I tell him, no thanks.

Back on the street, his mind is racing faster than minds should race. Even on speed. He’s fucking off the planet. He’s trying to operate a mobile phone but it is confusing the fuck out of him. He asks me to do it for him. I say no. He asks a passer-by. The guy takes one look at him and tells him that the cops have just pulled up; there is an empty police car on the side of the road. My new friend, he doesn’t see it as empty; his overworked brain imagines policemen sitting in the driver and passenger, waiting to tag us. He tells me to stash my bag, so – infused with his paranoia – I pull the two points of speed out of my pocket and shove it into my underwear. I can feel it, this little bit of plastic, under my dick. When we get to the next corner he says, “I’ve got to go this way,” and we depart. I reach out my hand to say thanks but he refuses, frightened that the invisible policemen might see us shake and conclude that it is some kind of deal.

I was supposed to quit all psychedelics for six months. Weed was a pipe dream, though. Complete abstinence from psychedelics wasn’t likely; I knew that from the beginning. In the end, I didn’t last one day without smoke. This failure: I justified it by forcing myself to refrain from tripping; my inability to quit smoking weed would go hand in hand with my ability to resist the mushroom. In the end, I would be consuming less, which is better than a kick in the dick with a steel-capped boot. Failing completely was too depressing a notion to even consider. Another failure, another stain on my conscience: the dirty rag that absorbs all of my spilled, and forgotten, dreams; my endlessly faithful inner voice. The little version of me with wings and a halo: it never gives up; no matter how much neglect I inflict upon myself. It says, without a quiver of doubt, that I will succeed one day; all evidence to the contrary. It tells me all is not lost, when nothing good can be found. My conscience, it enables me; it is the thin film between my descent and the rocks at the bottom.

I never made any effort to deal with the withdrawals I experienced from my epic mushroom binge; instead, I distracted myself with non-psychedelics. Alcohol – being the only thing readily available to me – replaced the hallucinogenic mushrooms; my vow to never drink again, defeated by my decision to stop tripping: sixty-five alcohol-free days, down the drain. But the sauce didn’t satisfy me like it used to. I found myself, after little over two month’s absence, genuinely not wanting to return to drunkenness; the bar for recreational-drugs having been raised significantly by a psychedelic binge from hell. Compensation, if it were to exist, had to come from something else; something stronger; something capable of smothering my anxiety.

The choice was obvious; the next drug on my to-do list: heroin. But I didn’t seek it out; I continued to drink, emptying bottle after bottle of beer. To score would require hitting the streets and picking up off someone I didn’t know. The idea tortured me. It lingered in my brain, calling me a coward; laughing. The little version of me with horns and a tail, reminding me that my true desires had once again been outnumbered by my fears; reminding me that I am a failure.

Days went by without mushrooms, but I continued to hallucinate. Without alcohol, my anxieties resurfaced – so I tried to stay drunk as much as possible; my desire to get some gear rising with every sip. Until, finally, I reached my breaking point.

Wandering back and forth on the platform, fuelled by frustrations; my mind an endless mess of overlapping and contradicting thoughts: I had no idea what I was doing. Whether I should appear anxious, like I’m already addicted, or calm so as not to create any suspicion; whether I should talk to people or just tried to establish eye contact; what terminology I should use; how much it was going to cost: these questions had no answers. And, consequently, I had no approach.

At one point I was sitting on a train, eavesdropping on two smacked out goons talking about how fucked up they were; just as I was about to say something to them, they started boasting loudly about their exploits robbing and assaulting people. This was the closest I came to approaching someone, before returning home a failure. I couldn’t bring myself to buy a six pack of beer on the way back; alcohol, the consolation prize, was a fucking insult.

Back home, the jar of mushrooms kept popping into my head; I couldn’t shake it: tripping was inevitable without a suitable replacement. I had a choice. To return to the land of psychedelics and, by doing so, give up on the idea of a sober day; or go back out there and find some fucking smack: in my mind, heroin being the only thing to save me from my addictions. The opiate world is unfamiliar territory; heroin is, yet, untainted by my recklessness. I have abused everything else beyond repair; ruined entire classes of drugs. Opiates remain pure, untarnished, and, therefore, guilt-free. The decision to move on to heroin is a good one. I don’t have a smack problem yet; so, using is not yet an issue. Under the guise of convincing myself I can use drugs responsibly, I have a whole new class of drugs to explore and ruin. I smoke three joints and get on a train to the city.

Richmond station is crowded with football folk; true blue Australians dressed head to toe with merchandise. Colour-coded beanies, jerseys and flags; their faces painted to match. These sports enthusiasts, they make my mission impossible. So, I start walking.

I mean to head towards the city, but I’m too stoned to think properly. I walk for twenty minutes in the wrong direction, half-aware that I’m off-track. Upon realizing my mistake, I turn around to see the silhouette of Melbourne’s skyscrapers. The city, it is huge; I have been walking aimlessly away from these enormous structures, practically oblivious. I laugh at myself.
On the way back towards the station, I duck into a bottle-o and buy a beer. It’s a good costume for someone who definitely isn’t a narc; cops don’t walk around drinking beer in the middle of the afternoon, regardless of their position regarding cover. Continuing to drink throughout the mission was all part of the strategy. Getting pissed, while stoned, in the middle of a hunt for heroin; it is the only way to resist temptation. I am quitting mushrooms; I am doing a good thing.

I walk down the street, listening to the Velvet Underground, drinking beer, and scanning faces for likely drug-dealers. I ask a couple of harmless-looking people. I know they won’t be able to help me; I ask them, so I can go home telling myself that I tried: predictably, they brush me off. Some of them are disgusted by the very notion; a junky, actually talking to them, asking them for gear. I guess the implication is that if I ask them, they too look like junkies. And nobody wants that.

I throw my empty beer into an alleyway. A homeless man asks me for change. I offer him two dollars for a tip on where to score some smack. He tells me to go down to Victoria Street. He says to get on the Church Street tram and follow it to the end of the line; I walk, instead, drinking beer after beer as I go. The alcohol combines nicely with the weed.
Wandering through darkening streets full of drunken maniacs, I feel good; my mind is protected by a sedative cloud. By the time I reach my destination, I feel like actually going through with it. Fuck the consequences. But it’s not as easy as all that.

The homeless man led me to a fortress; a series of high-rise buildings, government commissioned flats. This place, this retirement home for the perpetually downtrodden, it requires a key-card to get through the doors. I watch a junky scan himself through a series of entry-points to reach the elevator; concluding that there is no way to get in. I keep walking, down Victoria Street. Everybody that walks past me has this look about them, like they just got out of prison.

I keep my mouth shut. Asking them would be suicide. That’s what my mind told me anyway. These people, they aren’t even human beings; they’re animals waiting for feeding time. They want me to give them an excuse. Just because they’re Maori or Vietnamese, doesn’t make them a fucking drug dealer. And, I should know that. Fucking racist little spoilt white cunt that I am. That’s what they say, in my dramatization, before they stab me to death with a biro and piss on my corpse. If I’m going to ask someone, seriously, it needs to be a white guy. And, he needs to be smaller than me.

Sell your soil to me
my asylum within, a troubled teens insecurity
engulfs the weak and sinned
their wishes litter the deep blue
in shiney glass, bottles.
of rum and whiskey are our role, models.

Embrace its time to elope
surrender to him, this is is no hoax
reality, sets in
now, you've got to be kidding me
because you are..fading
away..again
and in..hell
omit, help

Im dying, rotting and corroding.
How are you?

Alright so I have some time on my hands and have decided to post a blog reminiscing about some past adventures I got in right after turning 18, before going to rehab and attempting sobriety (sadly so) and before the half way houses and murders, od's, and psychotic enemies. Basically back when drugs were still cool.

So i had been a member of this forum for a decent period of time. Basically I joined it right around the time a began smoking weed. Anyway at a certain post a few spam posts where made which a person was advertising a mail order marijuana service. They were obviously quickly deleted and I suppose that user account banned but a friend from the forum was able to snag the email address before the admins deleted the post.

He tells me over AIM that he has been in contact with the person and he is happy to say they are really cool and has a variety of products available. He gives me the email address and says to give the guy a chance.

So i go ahead and proceed to email the guy and so begins a ~ two years adventure which involved all kinds of action but mostly was a great experience to try a variety of different drugs and gain some experience with handling powder products and learning the ropes of drug dealing. Anyway so i email this guy and he tells me he has weed and hash but he isn't really keen on sending it in the mail but he has mdma crystal available for 50 us dollars a gram. I was broke as a joke at the time but say is there anyway I can score a sample for the time being... He says not a problem and asks for my name and address (keep in mind I'm still living with my parents at the time) but I give him the information anyway. For the next two weeks I was in an utter panic. I seriously thought the dea or fbi would be kicking down my door an arresting me on the spot. Randomly one say I decide to check the mail (wasn't really expecting to find anything) In the mail was a letter addressed to me with a postage mark from the netherlands. I'm like holy shit this is it! So i take it upstairs open it up and inside of the package is a folded wax paper with aproximately 200mgs of tan mdma powder in it. I snort the entire amount that night (I was already experienced with pills such as the og blue dolphins, mercedes, etc...). Loved it.

A few months later i began a friendship with a friend and we decided to start slanging molly together. Ordered or first gram split 50/50 or 25 25 really because the gram cost 50. Sent cash to his p o box in Amsterdam. I received the package but ended up just doing it with 2 other friends to my orginal friend's (we'll call him Person S for clarity) chagrin. I ended up paying him back but we ended up buying 2 grams to sell. This time everything worked out and we made some serious cash. Now this is where it gets interesting. I started experimenting with a variety of chemicals including lsd and heavier cocaine use than i had previous done. I also started taking clonozepam to help cope with my manic bi polar swings in combination of course with heavy marijuana use.

Me and Person S teamed up with a local mushroom dealer and a local ecstasy middle man to create what we thought would be a drug syndicate and we would supply our city and few other local ones with large amounts of mdma shipped to us from Amsterdam, cultivated mushrooms grown at a friends apartment, weed grown there two (all equipment, spores, and seeds would be provided by us), and a variety of research chemicals that would be bought of of websites. We even went as far to start marketing a combination of aproximately 10mg's of 2ce and 100mgs of mdma as a capsule called heaven which we planned on flooding the local rave scene with. During this time I also began dating a girl who would play a major role in my life for the following 8 months and torment me even up until now. Basically not to cut ahead but she left me for one of the syndicate members but I then found out it was all a big ruse because she was annoyed with my irresponsible behavior (beligerent promiscuioty) irrational drug use, not tending to emotional needs etc... especially in relation to our daughter which she refuse to let me see or even talk to me about.

Back to the story, i started making some pretty good money selling any psychedelic product i could get my hands on and had some awesome times doing it. For example I was rolling a blunt in person S vehicle and while attempting to dable some kief i had in a pill bottle I dropped about half the entire pill bottle of kief we then basically said fuck it and smoked the whole damn blunt. After driving a girl home the herb started kicking in and as soon as we parked person S opened his door and literally fell flat on his face. Thats how high we were. Anyway one night i picked up a 10 strip of some lsd paper which had come highly reccommended from my paper dealer at the time who was a chemistry major and seriously knew his stuff. The paper he called the "sandpaper" from the "Sandman" and i shit you not was so potent that the lsd crystals were bulging right off the blotter. I linked up with my buddy and dropped two. We then linked up with a local high school senior who was throwing a party in a gated neighborhood actually right accross the water from the apartment I'm living at now. By the time we got there the party was just getting broken up but almost everyhouse in the neighbor hood was having some sort of get together. We were ushered out of one because we weren't really invited but the guy was pretty respectful.

We drive around and we make a call for a gram of coke for which turned out pretty well because the guy usually cuts the stuff he gets but this time he was going to sell it to me pure. We go all the way out to butt fuck egypt to pick up the bag and I'm so fucked up from the lsd everything has a moving psychedelic auro to it. Imagine watching a movie but all the sillhoutes looked like the were coming from the milk drop visualizer on winamp. Because of this state I almost don't even get the bag because I can't find 10 bucks for it but it ends up working out. I end up going home before even breaking into the coke but. I flip on scar face take the last two hits of the cid and start doing lines. Line after line to the end scene were Tony is flipping out shooting at la mara screaming I'll take your bullets. Or better yet shoving his face into a torn open key. So I kill the gram and am tripping balls and can't slip for shit. I had two 2mg klon's on me so I popped those and tried to go to sleep. Didn't work out so I just stay there in bed holding on for dear life haha. Next morning my shipment of molly came in (4 g's) and I'm so wrecked from the partying I'm like dgaf and grab my straw and stick my nose right in the bag.

My buddy picks me up and I start talking all kinds of gibberish. Like having phone calls from my girlfriend later turned wife whom I'm seperated from or something without even having a phone in my hand or being on one period. They drop me off at my parents house thinking I was gonna overdose but I was okay just black out high. My parents obviously concerned, respond by calling me an abulance where open I was taken to a hospital to recieve a check up. My blood pressure was fine but because of my incoherence and the amount of drugs in my system they admitted me to a room and baker acted me. I remember awaking in an empting room with no one around and no joke it was pretty freaky. One of the coolest and scariest weekends of my life.

Because of this I seriously backed off all substances (my parents threatened to kick me out if I didn't check myself into rehab) and almost lost the my girlfriend (who ended up leaving me anyway so I guess it doesn't really matter but shes okay just doing her). That ended the Matrix syndicate and left everyone involved minus the low key mushroom dealer pretty bitter.

I guess everyone makes a come back at one time or another...

More in a minute.

I have one 40 Mg opana. Well, now I have 20 Mg cause I just took half. I do snort them because when I swallow them my stomach goes wild. I have 3 ulcers. One in my esophagus and 2 in my stomach. I know doing it this way causes a lot of addiction problems and I was taking up to 4 30's per day. I am prescribed these (only 2 /day) but always run out early because I they only last a couple hours at best. I am a cpp (i have duffuse scleroderma) but need to figure something else out. I am going to get the stuff for the Thomas recipe today and got lots of lope and 7 8mg suboxone. Since the formula for opana has changed and you cannot snort them, I do not want to even try the new ones. I am not a junkie but feel like one because the only way I could take these without folding over in gastro pain is snort them. I am SO scared of what is going to happen to me. I told my husband and he is super supportive and will help me through this. I want to try a different way to manage my pain. Something holistic. The only thing I worry about is the pain I will feel and that won't go away with the withdrawals. I need support and people I don't know to talk to about this. I am so worried and scared. I don't know if I should start taking the lope now or wait and I'm debating on weather these subs are worth it or not. I really need help. I have looked at this site for a while and just recently joined. I did use topix but the amount of assholes and junkies there is not who I want help from. If you have any advice to offer PLEASE do. I am scared shitless! Should I use the subs short term? Will I withdrawal from those if I just take them for a short time? I also take savalla, a med for fibromyalgia and I have a lot of ultram. I have klonopin that I take for anxiety and and 20 vicoden. How should I do this??? Thank you in advance for any help.

Help, Apple

The Marketing Entire world within the virtual group is evidently prescribed together with the capability of a Business or maybe Social Media Marketing Agency to use the different Social Networks which populate it. Many of the most favored Sites these as Twitter, Facebook, Multiply, MySpace, Friendster, Technorati, Digg and many other individuals throw in the towel Online users to the divergent backlinks possessed by Internet websites attempting to create hits.

social media marketing agency is a technique focused on social community end users. Firms develop accounts on Facebook, Twitter and others to catch the attention of followers and advertise products and services. The strategy here is a lot more customized and targets massive audience base--friends, friends, business connections or acquaintances in the community. Posts and updates on these pages deliver back links that can generate visitors to a company's main web page. As social media enjoys huge attractiveness amongst web users, they have become marketing automobiles for a lot of companies and personalities.



Auditing: This kind of aspect is the valuing supply of the Company concerning accomplished arranged efficiency in addition to aims in productivity. Aquiring a free and balanced flowing transmission amongst the elements results to your competitive and healthier Social Media Marketing Agency. Even though one person would certainly go ahead and take responsibility inside multiple areas, it can be terrific for an Agency to have one person centering on the single undertaking permanently effects. You all are extremely nicely informed with the importance and escalating value as well as recognition involving Social Media Marketing . Obtain A lot more Folks to A person's Shows, Current market and also Manage your business online and also Make Much more Money while in the Business. To learn more please communicate with you on -- hypegenius

Social networks such as Twitter, YouTube, and FaceBook go on to grow in popularity. These unique interactive websites permit end users to connect with pals, relatives, strangers, and even fans in ways that only were not doable ten decades ago. This surge in social networking level of popularity has also catapulted quite a few businesses to immediate stardom. The power of working with social media in the workplace is explosive. You really might take your company to the next level by employing a social networking technique with all the help of a specialist social media agency.

And so in advance of searching for some excellent social media marketing agency, you will need to know the vital factors with regard to selection. You just cant be so idiotic in addition to give your own venture to every amateur company. Its exactly about ones online image that may be damaged more than night. Many it demands is usually poor social media marketing, so you tend to be out of the particular little league.

Even though you can find lot of other Social Media Marketing Networks which incorporates Twitter, Facebook and Plaxo to name a few, you have observed LinkedIn, which acc to a most current Press Release has much more in excess of 80 million customers in in excess of 200 nations around the world, to be quite possibly the most important from a B2B Insurance plan Agency Social Media Marketing see. Now LinkedIn provides Pay Per Click or PPC Advertising campaigns, which if targeted while in the correct way and supervised, can as well successfully raise an Insurance policies Agency Marketing prepare for that year 2011. Despite the fact that with this particular prospect of LinkedIn is simply not for free whatsoever, a comparatively modest price range can bear some substantial options.


It really is absolutely not a childs take part in to increase the focused guests that arrives in the direction of your web-site. Nonetheless, it should genuinely also not be the most challenging process, if you have a social media marketing servicesat your conclude. The ideal services in this regards are in your obtain, with Social Elves at your disposal. You could potentially critically get tens of 1000s of buyers each day on the web, even so, you do have to make it happen! Making your online business delightful and massively interactive is one thing we focus on and in executing so, Social Elves maintains getting the Social Media Marketing Agency of assortment.

A mini goal I had set for myself was to not have to empty my garbage can during Lent. Well, four weeks in, and that thing was full (it's only a small two foot tall, one foot wide oval bin). All of the trash inside was from the past four weeks--I started with an empty bin. Most of the contents were paper products--Cardboard boxes, post-it notes, printer paper. (The paper that goes into the bin is going to start getting reused for scrap paper as I was a bit shocked by the near-blank pages that were going in the trash that I didn't even think about.) Very little of it was actual recyclable plastic (had one plastic bag that contained vacuum cleaner bags, which was bought awhile ago, and had another plastic bag from the bulk department*). All of the non-recyclable plastic I generated within the first four weeks of Lent fit inside of two small sandwich bags.

*Won't ever have to use those bags again! Recently bought some reusable bags for bulk bins and am pretty excited to have been using them a couple times for buying produce.

:D

My other goal for Lent is going along steadily. It had been picking up pace during week four since I had a week off from school, but unfortunately it has taken its spot on the back burner again since school has to take precedence at this point. I have approximately three more weeks of homework and classes, and three weeks after that of full-time internships at two different locations (7ish days each). Then I have a huge cumulative exam for this semester, and I am graduated. Then I just have to take the registration exam, and then the job hunt begins.

Once I pass that registration exam (which isn't too far off--June or July), my life can come into focus instead of obtaining my degree.

just had some today with my girlfriend we started at 2pm saturday only had to buy 2 gram and got an extra one free, so went out with 7 mates got on it and still managed to leave my mates nearly a full gram then brought home with me a gram, had my last line at 11.30pm and havent had another one yet and im still sat her off my noodle, no signs of cuming down and ive even been having fat joints aswell and still feel buzzin!!! been on fone to my mates and they still have more than half a g left and they are all fuked lol, none of them wanting another line for a while. my girlfriend had a 0.3g in a rizzla and bombed it at 12pm and is still fucked up on another planet lol, cnt believe how good this stuff is havent had good stuff like this in a while as we have been on bubble most weekends for the past year! and the buzz off this nrg3 is in a totally different league to any bubble ive had and ive had some pretty shit hot stuff but no were near as good as this nrg3, would definatly buy again but would get 10g next time <snip> the feeling off this nrg3 is amazing i felt like i was floating, so wired that i could not even talk and think at some point of the night. im sat here now at home still off my trolley and havent touched any of it since 11.30pm, and its now 5.30am sunday morning dont even know what to do with my self so throught id write a review and let people know my experience for the first time, it was a kind of tan colour its not crystally at all just powder, smells abit like sweaty socks tbh lol! but the buzz is amazing!! still dont even need one at this moment in time feel soo fucked! sat here i thinking what to write now lol.. well thats about it <snip> amazing stuff would definatly recommend, and it comes in red and white capsules you dont need alot of this 1 capsule will fuck you up! honestly you dont understand until you try it yourself! 7 of my mates who are still on it now aswell and they r all FUCKED LOL... cant explain how else i feel because i dont even now myself im so fucked.. just come back online and its been 7 hours since my gf had the bomb and she still really really FUCKED!!!! Amazing stuff the best i have ever had even better than ecstasy and its the most cheapest nite out ever all u need is a gram or 2... BUT!! be prepared to be up for a long timee! id give yourself about a whole weekend this is how fucked it gets you all u need is one bomb and thats it for around 8 hours! best stuff ever to get you on a proper buzz honestly though u need to be careful when taking this as because its 99.8% pure it is very very strong shit cant believe how much shit im just sat here chattin mad as fuck been sat in my bedroom since midnight fucked and not even been able to have another line or owt yett. really cant explain how good the feeling is on this nrg3 <snip>

Well I use to use a livejournal account but because I havent in years I forgot the password. The last post I ever made in it was about how I use to be a depressing alcoholic who drank himself to sleep every night. These days I look back on it and laugh, those days werent that hard.

The best day of my life was when i met my current girlfriend. I love her with everything and we were both in a bad spot when we met. The relationship started fast and we fell for each other very quickly. I was in college at the time and didnt realize how easy i had it. I spent the whole summer with her and that was only 2 years ago.

These days we spend our free time shooting dope. It hard to think about how we got here. Its only been 2 years since we started our journey together. I guess i started writing this because everyone wants someone to hear their story whether they exist or not they just want to feel like it meant something.

Ill start at the beginning. It was the summer of 2010 I had just left college and wasnt returning for that semester, financial aid and shit got fucked. She said it would be great to get an 80 and use it together. Prior to this time i only used them alone and when i was upset, of course i agreed. We did it and it was amazing. I think we said i love you to each other that night just something we had both been feeling. But that was the start. That connection was a friend he got them for us like 3 times total, he wouldnt have me become an addict. Naturally it didnt take long to meet someone else. We did them once a week it seemed. Progressively doing more and more. It started with 40mg making me sick then we were doing 60 each and feeling good. This kept going on and on till i met an actual whole sale dealer. Next thing i knew it was 3 each 3 times a week, every other day like clock work.

We would stop every once in a while claiming that we didnt want to get addicted or whatever. There were no WDs to really speak of other then the desire. This continued for a while about 8 months. The time seemed to fly when you look back at it. All our dreams and things we would tell each other never happened.

About 8 months ago we started using heroin. It started with blowing 2.5 bags each. We were able to do this a lot, which is why heroin is bad i guess. Next thing you know its daily or at least 5/7 days a week. We get introduced to shooting the whole time saying just once this feels dirty. It didnt stop though, we spent so many nights crying knowing what we had to do we just never stopped. Now we fight over stupid shit. It feels like once the d comes everything is ok and i was fine with that for a while. Until last last night.

She told me i didnt have to get it but being the idiot i am i got it in my head and once its there its not leaving. So i wait around forever for this jackass to score. I do i bring it home all happy. We are both happy then the problem occurs, i cant find a vein on her. I keep stabbing in the dark tension grows and grows. Then we start fighting she gets really pissed at me and im getting pissed at her. Well not her but her veins if they would just show i could get this over with. I felt so trapped i wanted to spray it on the ground and say she was right we dont need it tonight, shes always right. I couldnt though it was here and if i did that it would make things worse. I felt like i was stuck i felt like i couldnt stab her anymore but i had to i had to because it had to be done. Shes bleeding and crying saying fuck it its not going to work whats the point. Im squeezing her arm hard trying to get veins to show. Finally i get it after i take a second to do myself. We both apologize.

3 hours later shes angry. Shes pissed at me or the situation again she said i was hurting her because i was mad just like her ex boyfriend did. I looked back at it and i was i wasnt mad at her i was mad at her veins but theres no difference. I started crying shes completely right i got pissed and used extra force. I dont want to use anymore I do but i dont.

I have this plan to marry her i have the most beautiful ring all designed in my head. But i know if we keep this up it will be like all the other promises, it wont happen. I want to be clean again like it was in the beginning. I dont long for those days i long for a time when it was just us. I know we can be there again where its just us in bed together holding each other. Now those times are interupted by the dope man or something equally as bad. I feel like im in requiem for a dream, my only goal in life was to save her and make her happy. I ruined that because i saw it in opiates, the lies they tell us and make us believe. I should have listened to those who came before who had been there. Now although the love is there its blocked theres something in the way of making us truly happy.

I know our future is bright i know this will all end, it starts with me. It starts with accepting the fact shes going to yell, shes going to fight with me. She wont leave me because i dont get drugs she wont stop loving me, but neither one of us will make this easy. We will try to make it as easy as we can but i know what its going to be like.

If you ever read this, I love you. Ive said it countless times but i never meant for this, i just had this dream coupled with my own insatiable curiosity. For all the times we blame ourselves each other forces beyond our control, there is no blame. There is a way to make it all end to make it so these few dreams i still hold close dont burn up too. You've been nothing but supportive to me and tried so hard. I know something is going to give soon. I love you.

Ohhhh, so this is what Heroin is supposed to be like. Duh. That other stuff I didn't enjoy. I don't know, it was probably just super shitty. It was underwhelming. I don't even remember getting a nod. I had Opana for the past 5 days and that was awesome but I finished it so I needed something to taper with so I thought it would be a good idea to get some heroin but I didn't realize it would be this great. I've done a little over 1 bag. And I have to be good by Monday... shit. I wish I had the money for a bundle of this shit... fucking great... Along with some marijuana, benzos and an antihistamine... Fantastic.

Even the drip tastes similar to oxy... it's fantastic... it's all brown and chunky and I wish I had more Xanax... why be sad? You can get Heroin! This is fantastic. I want to do everything pleasurable in the world right now, but I can't do anything besides sit in my chair. Wow. I am floored. How can I go back to oxy after this experience? Maybe the hellish withdrawals will stop me.

I ended up getting some money so I bought 2 bags of heroin. I think he overcharged me but whatever, let him get a kick too, whatever...

Yay, heroin. I don't give a FUCK about ANYTHING except to say IT'S AWESOME because everything is awesome... I can't think of a single thing that wouldn't be awesome right now except withdrawals.

Hurt now or hurt later.

I am choosing to hurt later. Obviously. It will come back to bite me in the ass as it usually does... bah.

Today, the same day I got my court case closed, my neighbor across the hall was evicted. All of his stuff was taken out of his apartment and thrown on the curb for the sanitation department to get rid of. He did have some weird shit. He had a couple of guitars and tons of books. (We jokingly called him the Grim Reader because his demeanor was very... sullen and he would read a lot outside. He'd always be muttering to himself about God knows what and he always smelled pretty bad and wore creepy trench coats no matter the weather and had a very looming manner in his presence...

So yeah, that could have been US but it wasn't. It freaked me the fuck out honestly and I'm happy I know I have a place to live until March 31st. Then I need to make it a priority to pay the rent first thing every month before I spend anything on drugs. (Haha, stupid addict, when will you learn?)

So yes I have a lot of shit to sort out, my head being first. I'm getting a tax refund soon so I'm going to buy a futon and get the dogs' shots and then it's pretty much going to drugs. My last binge, really, because I need to get my shit together. And yet I doubt myself and my ability to be able to get my shit together. Sigh. I guess we'll see.

I want to wait to post this because I already have a blog entry on the front page but I just had to get this out, so please excuse me if this is getting a little redundant. I just like being able to get my thoughts out. I used to journal in notebooks a lot but I always did that when I was out of my apartment. Like at school or on the subway or on a lunch break at work but I find I can only write if certain circumstances are met and I don't feel that they're met right now. Sometimes I like to write with pen and paper but I'll nod out and write gibberish... ridiculous stuff, really.

I wanna smoke another cigarette and more marijuana and maybe drink some whiskey but I am pushing it already with the benzos, opiates, marijuana and antihistamines... Don't need to add alcohol to the mix. Some cocaine would be fantastic though! Jesus! My brain would wilt... not that it hasn't already...

I put a tiny flower I picked from a tree into my neighbor's mailbox... I wonder what he will think. (This is a different neighbor, not the evicted one.) I just wanted to brighten up someone's day. Randomly. I dunno why I chose him. Probably because I am high on heroin...

I know no one will read this but toodles!

I take ll three and I swera the klonopin isn't working;I took 15 one day and all I felt was tired at the end of the day?do they interact?

30% discount of all pills, the best http://pillstock.bestrustedtabs.com/

---

I was a lucid dream virgin until last night.

I have just started taking 5-htp (split into two evening doses, one before dinner, another before bed).
Lat night I was in a dream world that I was able to control. I made conscious decisions.
It was absolutely amazing

To be honest, up until now, I thought that lucid dreams didn't exist.
I thought that people who claimed to control their dreams - were simply dreaming they had control.
How incredibly wrong I was!

It doesn't matter what I dreamt about.
My dreams are usually confusing and detailed. This was no exception.
Something about an institution, driving, people I knew.. Nothing exciting.
BUT - I had control - it was so much fun!

Strangest thing - despite all the dream action, I woke up refreshed.
This is a new development. I wonder why.

It's night time, I'm off to bed! Yay!

Unlikely disease, there is no name
gather the pieces, where is your shame
up up up, pick that cloud
but not that high, the planes are to loud
misplaced memories reflect who we are
bury your nose in my mental scars
if you like what you see, pursue nothing
urgency to fly free, except you've got my wings..

IF YOU KNOW SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH YOU AND YOU CAN'T FIND A DR TO HELP, KEEP GOING, I HAVE HAD SEVERE ABDOMINAL PAIN FOR 6 YEARS AND JUST TODAY DID I FIND OUT WHATS WRONG, EVERYONE KEPT TELLING ME THEY DONT SEE ANYTHING WELL FINALLY TODAY A SURGEON FOUND OUT I HAVE A UMBILICAL HERNIA WITH NERVES AND FAT GETTING TRAPPED INSIDE THE HERNIA. NO WONDER ITS SO PAINFUL, IVE HAD HEART PROBLEMS, AND ALL KINDS OF MEDICAL PROBLEMS SINCE 2003 SO IM LIKE A DR I STUDY SO MUCH. LOL. JUST WANTING TO LET EVERYONE KNOW KEEP GOING TO DIFFERENT DRS YOU WILL GET RELEIF SOMEDAY, NOW I HAVE SURGERY IN A WEEK AND HOPEFULLY MY LIFE WILL CHANGE FOR THE BEST!!!! IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS ABOUT HEART ISSUES, HERNIA, ABDOMINAL PAIN, DIVERTICULITIS, RAYNAUDS, HYPOTHYROIDISM, OR ANXIETY YOU CAN CONTACT ME ANYTIME, I THINK IT HELPS TO TALK TO OTHERS! STAY STRONG

So i have this group of friends that I've known for a number of years now. This group includes a person we have used as a whipping post (we'll call him person A). Now the reason behind person A's abuse is his consistent abuse of my and everybody elses generosity point blank. As in a constant smoke out session no cash no respect blah blah.

Now I tried to make good with person A I swear. See my parents bought me a 2004 4.2L jaguar s type a few years back and I took the opportunity to drive around person A to and from work and wherever else really while paying for the weed alcohol and whatever else. During this period of time person A began selling another person's weed. Me being a greedy little bitch racked up a $50 dollar bill. Person A then proceeded to add another 40 dollars to that bill. Now keep in mind I smoked this kid out for at least 3 years straight with him, on rare occasion, contributing a dime. After having the car for about a year I crashed it into a tree and that was that. Afterwards person A got an atittude. Started avoiding me until I starting living at the Mariott Courtyard in my hometown following getting kicked out of a halfway house. Now I was fucking his girlfriend sure but he and she were constantly over there smoking my weed and hanging out.

Afterwards i moved into the apartment I live in currently and he went bananas. One day I walked to his gf's house to meet up unannounced and what happens. I end up selling my black berry for 90 bucks so we can score some bud. He calls a guy up apparently a member of a local gang. The guy has regular weed and seeing as how I just sold my phone i wanted to smoke something decent. We find a guy but this guy starts blowing up person A's phone making threats saying we MUST buy the weed he's selling. I say to tell him to leave us alone but nooooo person A tells him where we are and the guy comes and strong arms me into giving him 50 dollars for the bag. While this is taking place person A's girl starts bitching at me saying im being stubborn as a horse and blah blah so I say just fuck off its my cash so piss. Or something to that affect. He gets mad and basically says we're not friends anymore.

So now two years later person A is stalking me. As in riding by the intracoastal in front of my place or on the road saying my name loudly. He also used a facebook rsvp to predict my whereabouts and crashed an event where a mutual "friend" was playing with his band. During this retarded incident i heard him clearly asking another person for a knife which is retarded because the idiot is a hare krishna or whatever and they aren't allowed to carry weapons or so I heard. Anyway he leaves and I enjoy the rest of the night. But because of this annoyance I deleted my facebook account and refuse to join again.

Now to the point of my post. My sup3rrrr friend Shao Ling has recently joined facebook. Now he's really cool and local and likez the peopl3z so if you want to link up with a chill dude feel free to add him.

search for the email [email protected] and you should see him pop up...

He looks lik3 a fr0g but I hop3 thats ok4y...

You ar3n't a r4c1st ar3 j000???

---

I woke up this morning and it's pouring down. Heavy winter rain for the first time in months.
It's making me want to curl up inside the house and eat some benzos.
I haven't done that in such a long time - in fact, I had a hell of a time quitting that lifestyle.
And now the sneaky thought - just one time wouldn't hurt.
It may not, but it might.
It might lead to another time and another and another..
The worst part - I have everything I need on hand.

Depressing, counter-productive weather - leave me alone!

I'm going to have another coffee and go for a walk in the rain.

So, work's been ok lately. I was scared about going back but so far I've been doing fine and got some lovely encouraging emails from the call centre manager. I'm back on the phones after a couple of weeks doing admin work so I was worried about hitting stats. I'm not hitting my targets, but I'm doing better than before I was on admin, so I just need to keep going. My team leader has thrown some pretty heavy hints my way that I'm going to be given another role in the company. I would be so grateful if this was the case. I've worked so hard for so long and a job change would really breathe new life into my work.

I've signed up for another six hours overtime this week. I'm going to be a wreck by the end of it as I can feel myself getting fluey but I've already earned an extra £100 on top of my wages in commission, hopefully the overtime will bump it up to another £100 which will cover getting my tattoo finished. I'm wanting to book it for a week on Friday. I went to see Lee today but the shop was shut so he must have decided to work from home. I'll try again tomorrow and if he's not in I can go see him on Saturday.

I feel pretty crappy. My body is all achey and my throat hurts. The problem with my office is there's far too many people in a small space and they're pretty hard on us for taking sick days which means people come in when they're ill and spread their cold or flu bug. Then because they've come in to work, the people that catch their sickness can't take time off because it looks bad. I'm going to push on through. I've only got a couple of paid sick days left and I really need this overtime.

My tattoo outline is healing nicely. It's such a badge of honour. I love it. It makes me feel a bit renewed, and going through that physical pain last Saturday has helped me get over a few emotionally bumpy bits.

I've been thinking about starting a wee photography project. My dad gave me a working 80's polaroid camera. If I can find film online I could take some awesome pictures and put them in the scrapbook that Mum got me as part of my 30th birthday present. I've got lots of festival tickets, flyers, wrist bands, set lists etc that I could put in there. Just to document how life's been this far. Debbie makes me lots of lovely pictures too which I'd love to keep for posterity.

I'm feeling tinged with loneliness again lately. I know I'm not supposed to... but I've been single for so long now... it's not even about sex, I just miss having someone to cuddle and spend my free time with. I've went from being morbidy co-dependent to being fiercely independent and it's hard to admit when I feel lonely like this. I feel like I could be a benefit to someone's life. I feel like I've got something to offer. But I'm so esoteric that guys generally don't "get" me or they want a deep and long-lasting friendship. The friendships are great but I want love. I want love. Not just anyone. Someone special. Someone to be my best friend and travelling companion, even if only for a few months. Surely I deserve it?

I joined a dating website but I left it within about 12 hours as it was just full of tossers. There's no way I could meet anyone that way. I don't seem to meet anyone socially. I don't want to "date" someone. I don't want a fuck buddy. I want it all. But it has to be special. Am I restricting myself by having such high expectations? Or am I being sensible?

It's been three years. If Alan wasn't the one for me then there must surely be the right one out there...? If he won't let me go back to him then surely there must be a way forward...?

It's a struggle. But I guess all I can do is just keep living my life and see what happens. After a while the loneliness numbs off... I'm just feeling emotional and vulnerable because I'm not very well.

See? I'm getting teary now. I don't do that. Not any more. I can't be weak anymore.

I have been taking gabapentin for 2 years for pain in my abdomen which they thought was neuropathy, WELL- come to find out i have a serious umbilical hernia and have surgery in a week. FINALLY after 6 years of pain they are doing something. I hope it helps BUT my point of messaging you is I have been weaning off of gabapentin and been feeling soooo awful. people say oh its so safe and thats so not true. doctors say its safe but i did every other day for 2 weeks then one every 2 days and so on, an then stopped it, i haven't had any for 6 days now and i feel like im in like detox, so dizzy i can barely walk, shaky, sweaty, just have to lay around, it is awful, i can hardly sit on the toilet long enough to go to the bathroom. This is AWFUL, i almost went to the er bc my head feels so weird. but supposibly it will go away! I wonder how long it will take? I already have major anxiety issues that i take prozac for sooo let me know if you know anything else!! Thanks. Just wanted to let you know your not alone!

Fuck, just when I thought things were going good they go downhill once again. I'm so sick and tired of dealing with all this bullshit. I fucking can't do it anymore and I won't do it anymore. I'm done, no longer can I worry about others because for so long I have been neglecting myself. I know I need to be there for my family and friends but I need to become my first priority. How else will I find the peace and happiness I so desperately need? I'm sure as hell not going to find it here of all places... So that's why I'm going to leave as soon as I can. I'm going to move on with my life because its the best thing I can do for me and only me.

a continuation...

Lovely has just turned 22 and was, when I met her, working 7 days a week in the cellphone shoppe, though on that particular day she was helping her mum cook for the party. Standing 5 feet and shapely, she had been petite enough at age 16 to win the village beauty title...at least I had thought that was what had led to her victory.

Despite my wealth of experience on Mindanao I am always discovering new things that leave me dumbfounded and scratching my head. It turns out that village beauty contests ate simply cash and carry affairs. Three days before the contest all contestants gather at the village basketball court-hu basketball being the national sport. There, male relatives guard a champagne goblet and solicit any available male, related or not, to dance with "their" girl...for a fee. The money is deposited in the glass and the man gets to dry hump the young lady- within reason naturally. The glass with the most money then determines the winner of the beauty contest. It didnt go over too well when I disgustedly told Lovely that in most countries this is called "Taxi Dancing," and is seen to be only slightly removed from prostitution. In fact, it is illegal in many parts of the US.

After "winning," the village contest committee then picks one of the contestants to then compete in the much larger municipal beauty contest. Winning at the village level has nothing to do with whether one is then chosen to go onto the municipal contest. As luck would have it, Lovely was in fact chosen to compete in that larger contest. Of course, having the village chief for a father may have been the deciding factor. In any event, Lovely refused to compete since, at 16, she had just began college.

Pressured into taking nursing by her mother and her eldest sister- the aforementioned fanily benefactor living in the US- she lodged in a rooming house with her second eldest sister, Jessa. Lovely however, had long dreamed of a degree in Hotel Management. Filipinas almost always read one of three university degrees:

A) Registered Nursing

B) Hotel and Resturant Management

C) Education

all with an eye on going abroad as more than 10% of the labour pool does. After finishing her first year Lovely was able to finally convince the family that Nursing was the wrong fit. Having wasted a year, she began reading Hotel and Resturant Management only to have her aforementioned American brother in law pull the plug when he forbade his wife- Lovely's eldest sister- to remit her salary home to her family in the Philippines. To avoid the imminent collapse of his marriage, the American vowed to continue paying Jessa's tuition, and vowed to continue Lovely's education upon Jessa's graduation. Jessa graduated later that same year but neither Lovely nor her two younger sisters were ever able to pursue a higher education. In a nation where cashiers must have a four year degree, this turn of events seriously challenged both Lovely and her family.

At age 19, to help her family, Lovely took a job at Dunkin Donuts (yes, they are here on Mindanao) where she worked 11 hours a day, six days a week, for the princely sum of P6,000 per month ($140). All but $20 went to her parents.

Although the American brother in law had vowed to provide emergency medical expences, he made no allowances for preventive and/or routine medical care. Just before turning 20, Lovely was stricken with phneumonia. Unable to afford medical care she finally collapsed at work. Because hospitals here will not provide medical treatment without a substantial downpayment, Lovely nearly died. In the end the family borrowed from loansharks and was able to get Lovely the medical care she so badly needed. After more than 30 days in a crowded hospital ward Lovely returned home for another seven weeks of convalescence. Although she was eventually able to return to her job at Dunkin Donuts, her health never fully recovered. Finally, just two weeks before I met her, she was forced to leave Dunkin Donuts when she missed ten days due to piir health.

Lovely had just had her 22nd birthday but like a large number of Filipinas her age, had never been in a relationship. Her world revolved that large house, her family, and the cellphone shoppe. She had however, just secured a passport and was beginning to make plans to join cousins working abroad in either Kuwait City, in Kuwait, or else in Abu Dhabi in the United Arab Emirates.

As the party began I found myself sitting on a chair, next to the sofa where Lovely was relaxing. Amid curious glances from both her family and Mario, Rizza's father, Lovely and I spent the next 11 hours deep in conversation. It is so cliche but it was as if we had known each other for many years. Suprising me greatly, she asked about Rizza. Unbeknownst to me, my failed marriage has been a fairly popular topic of conversation throughout Caraga, our region of Mindanao. What Rizza did, in abandoning her vows, is almost incomprehensible to most Bisaya.

I opened up to Lovely...I told her the entire story. Seeing I had a Blackberry ( I was still using a Blackberry at that point), Lovely demanded to see my wedding photos...from my Philippine Civil Ceremony. Realising it was futile to resist, I made my way to Rizza's mother's MySpace page, and allowed Lovely to look intently. Of course she wanted details of just why my marriage imploded. I explained about circumstances leading up to Rizza's running away to Cebu...things I cannot share here out of respect for Rizza's mother who has made it a point every so often, to remind me how painful Rizza's actions have been for her...and how some wounds have yet to heal.

to be continued...

a continuation...


The Filipina dutifully kept sending her entire paycheck home as a remittance to her family on Mindanao. Aside from her father's token salary as Barangay Captain (Village Chief), and whatever illegal profits he could derive from that position, the remittances served as the family's sole source of income.

Not too long after building their palatial home the family opened up their cellphone store and at that point the American husband threw a wrench into the machinery when he ORDERED his wife to stop sending her check home. He instructed her to have the family send him an email on the fifth of every month with an itemised list of utiluty costs, after which he would remit the exact amount.

The husband then tightened the vice. Despite her having a job he forbade her from handeling any money. If she wanted to buy a snack she had to ask him and he would buy it for her. As things went from bad to worse the Filipina discovered that she was pregnant. Now 28, she excitedly told her 54 year old husband only to be told he didnt fancy being a father in his Golden Years.

The Filipina had hoped that the pregnancy would draw them closer. Instead, it almost tore them asunder as he angrily demanded that she abort the unborn child. There is almost nothing that can get the three disparate religio-ethnicities on Mindanao to agree...but abortion is one such issue. The practice is not only illegal in the Philppines, it is universally reviled as heinous, no better than murder, and to many, a good deal worse. The Filipina grew so desperate that she revealed her predicament to her inlaws, who in short order brought the husband to heel. As a peace offering, and at his family's "suggestion," he brought airline tickets and away they went, taking a vacation on Mindanao. The following year, 2011, their son was born.

For awhile everything was good, almost idyllic, at least until the novelty wore off. At that point the husband was laid off. When he told his wife that even the utility bills of her family were too much. Because of their son she had had to stop working and so now, according to him, they would only have their unemployment checks. It would be a long time before she learned that her hudband actually owned 8 houses and a vitamin distributorship...

Meanwhile, the family struggled on with their cellphone shop providing most of their daily needs. Unfortunately, the American's decision to renege on his financial commitment meant that all the siblings would now have to drop out of school. In the end the family took the attitude that if anything, while extremely frustrating, the American's change of heart- if that is what it in fact was-didn't leave them any worse off than they had been before he had entered their lives. In fact, his marriage to the eldest daughter had allowed the girl to emigrate to the US, thereby providing them the means with which to replace their bamboo thatched hut and construct their ostentatious home...even if they were now struggling to remain afloat within that home. This is the Filipino outlook, as much as one exists; the cup is NEVER half empty. Even if life has grabbed you tightly by the balls, smile, nod your head in affirmation, and carry on as only one can in a nation wherw $4.00 a day represents a middle class existence.

It was in this frame that I found the family as Mario, Maneses (Rizza's brother), and myself entered the family compound. The ubiqitous, gargantuan videoke machine that graces just about every Filipino party was running at full blast as some tipsy, cotton headed senior citizen did her best imitation of Mariah Carey. Up and down the street windows were shaking but very few- if any- minded. After all, virtually everyone in the village was at the party. The shop owner once again offered Mario a hearty greeting and ushered us into house itself where we were introduced to his immediate family...and it was there that I met Lovely.

English is one of two official languages in the Philippines, albeit in the form of a distinct, academically recognised dialect. A "service" is the family automobile, while a "batch" is a graduating class, and so it goes. Nowhere near as absurd as Japanese inflected English, the Filipino dialect, or "Filenglish," still leaves many native English speakers perplexed and bewildered. This curious dialect has also influenced the naming of children. One can easily meet a woman named "Shehoney," "Fullofgrace," or..."Lovely." Of the man's five daughters, Lovely might be considered the least attractive, given the Filipino conception of beauty. A woman with an hourglass figure is deemed less desirable than a skinny woman. A woman who is tall- and "tall" in the Philippines, at least where women are concerned- stands 5'6" or taller- is infinitely more attractive than one standing 5'0". Lovely would be seen as very attractive by Western standards, but here in the Philiipines her body type and her height render her plain at best.

To be continued...

Our planet offers plenty of normal resources. Regrettably, a small amount of these which have been used by far the most are the ones that are non-renewable, and therefore their pace of production are not able to keep up with the charge regarding utilization, consequently they're susceptible to drop down ultimately. These kinds of non-renewable assets comprise classic fuels, that function as the traditional source of energy for that largest part of the world. Due to the incessant usage of these standard fuels to deliver for energy and also electricity needs, all of us at the moment are suffering from several of the effects, as an illustration climatic change plus energy downturn in various parts. Nonetheless, there is an answer for this. There are choice options of energy we are able to utilize that happen to be underutilized, just like pv and blowing wind energy. These kinds of assets are generally green, and result in no hazard for the surrounding. The web e-book Earth4energy points out these energy sources, and displays ways to make use of them in the home. This particular Earth4energy Evaluation may analyze perhaps the guide is definitely worthy of whatever you paid for.

There's a much better way for you to go. It can be done on your own simply by using a strategy devised simply by earth4energy. Your DIY installment manual charges less than FIFTY DOLLARS. Simply by using a step by step strategy, you may make solar power systems for under $200. It's likely that you are not knowledgeable about thinking about unavoidable .. While using deficiency of solidity within the energy business, now could be absolutely time to get involved with energy resource efficiency. By simply making your own solar panel systems, you will probably visit your household utility bills lessen. You are likely to be thus very pleased with oneself regarding doing this without having outside the house support


This is also very affordable. Just for $200 I'm able to create my personal wind turbine or screen by only following a tutorials within the Earth 4 Energy guidebook. The cost of the particular guidebook as well as materials are often end up being covered by the financial savings you'll be making on the electric bill. You will definitely save a great deal by means of Earth 4 Energy.

My own Earth4Energy Assessment * How I Developed My personal Solar panel systems

You can think of earth4energy for their 'weekend projects', in which just about all they need to accomplish is acquire all the plant along with stick to the straightforward instructions to line up their own options for back-up energy. Earth4energy products claim to offer more than 1000 w associated with electrical power simply by using the solar cells just. The buyers with this merchandise can also market the extra energy right back on the power firms and make good cash in the method! Regarding earth4energy customers around the world, it has certainly been shown to be a great volume. Solar technology and breeze mills methods set up by expert businesses regularly get a good investment of $ three thousand or higher. The particular go back with this investment is actually ordinary just after a few years. However, with the earth4energy, the outcomes will be fast.
http://www.ask.com/answers/42419581/what-are-some-problems-with-wind-turbines