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Most people love warm climates, of course - true to form- I am not like most people. I love the cold, and when it snows I am in heaven. In Mindanao I always feel a pang when I watch CNN International and see a blizzard striking the US. It is strange because in much of the world, Scandanavia, the Baltic, and parts of Russia, snow is no big thing. New York City averages 21 inches (in American speak) of snow a year. Thus far it had already gotten 36 inches and as I write this a blizzard is raging outside. They say it will end by daybreak, another 3 or 4 hours, but should give 16 inches for just 30 hours of snowfall.
Back home we are flooding, which always happens in monsoon. The tropics are strange. Just in different parts of 1 island like Mindanao you can have a 50 percent difference in annual rainfall. I love rain as well, a summer thunderstorm almost trumps a blizzard. I remember in 2007 after I had 1st moved to the island full time we had a bit heavier than usual downpour. On the side of our compound, dividing our compound from another compound belonging to Rizza's cousins' family is a creek (we have 14 compounds on our road, all the same family with each branch having their own). The creek is maybe a meter (3 feet) deep at its deepest part, moderately flowing into our rice paddies. Those who saw my photos in Gallery will have seen it, as well as the paddies.
That day the rain came heavily, breaking the incessant heat (tropic "heat" is claustrophobic at times, stepping out of the airport in Manila I have seen it actually make Westerners stumble). I walked out of my house, past the main house, and walked over to our dryer. We have our oldest rice mill, the 1st one Rizza's parents bought, in our compound and mills need rice driers. It is simply a concrete platform with concaved alleys running through it to leek the grain's moisture content before we put it through mechanical driers which we power with rice husks from previously milled rice. Anyway, the dryer is next to the outer wall of our compound, running along the road and I wanted to see if our paddies across the road were flooding.
Rice can grow wet or dry, but most in SE Asia farm wet, using dikes and sluices to keep the paddy in up to half a meter of water (1.5 ft) through most of the grow cycle. Of course its grueling work, we use water buffalo, noone farms rice mechanically there. Our labourers work with the buffalo, wading through the paddy, cobras, scorpions, even young crocs, pretty dangerous.
Anyway, I stood on the dryer, looking out at the road through our gun blinds (compounds are like forts), and to my suprise the paddies on the other side were gone, it was a lake as far as I could see. I walked across to the wall along the creek, the creek runs through a gulley about 2 meters deep (6 ft), yet the water was just inches from the top!!! It had only been raining for less than 2 hours.
We were all there at that point, watching in disbelief. Within 20 minutes the creek was gone, as was the road and the water was all around us but the compound, which is a concrete fort held, maybe half a meter (1.5 ft) of water inside but outside much deeper. Our compounds are like castles, labourers, tenant farmers and their families live in nipas (pronounced
"nee-pahz,"bamboo framed huts covered in palm leaf thatch) or at times, when they save enough, we let them build cinderblock homes , leasing the land to them (if they have been with us for more than 1 generation). It is just like serfdom, unfortunately. They build them on our land, outside our walls so that small villages form. We have almost 700 people just around our mills and if you include the family as a whole, I am guessing but probably 20,000 people).
On the other side of what had been the creek was a cinderblock structure housing 2 extended families of labourers but belonging to the next compound. A kid, 7 or 8 maybe (could have been 14 since undernourishment and the Asian physique plays with appearances), sat in a window. The buildings have openings for windows but no glass. He sat there, evidently home alone, sitting in the window, just looking at me. As I stood there in a staring contest his home began filling up with water rapidly, and as I tried to decide whether to play the hero and go over the wall and swim for him the water stopped rising. Within an hour only inches remained on the ground though the creek was at road level. It was the most amazing thing.
Mindanao is the most heavily forested island in the country. Our region, Caraga (Agusan del Sur our province is 1 of 5 that comprise Caraga) is the most heavily forested on the island, so we have the most rainforest in the country. Yet even in Caraga the land is being raped. I was never an environmentalist but now? I cheer everytime the NPA (New Peoples Army, Maoist insurgents) slaughter employees of multi-national mining and lumber companies. They only target those of companies not paying "Revolutionary Taxes" but still, that is another hectare of bush that won't be shat upon, at least for the time being.
We used to broker loads of lumber , shipping half loads to S.Korea, Japan and Singapore but I got us out of it. We still farm. Trees but we manage it responsibly with seedlings, etc. but each year the island loses more and more. Each year the floods get worse.
So...here in NY they are whining about the snow but I love it. Early Wednesday (yesterday) a BMW was driving when it began skidding in the snow. The driver rear-ended a gypsy cab (ghetto taxi) and BOOM. The BMW tried to back up and run but couldn't get around the snow piled up by the plows. The driver got out and ran like hell.
The cops come, take the story and finally search the BMW. They see the passenger side seat is all pushed forward and looking in back of it see a foot. In the trunk (rear seat removed) is a man who looked dead but was only unconscious, though 1 ear had been removed. Talk about lucky, that motherfucker better count his blessings.
Reminds me of another story. Back when I was in the game, this kid I knew fucked up his package. Time to collect and they snatched him. They took him to a flat in Brooklyn, stripped him, put his feet in ice water, taped his eyes and mouth shut, and began Tasering him. About 20 minutes into it when they began slicing him with razors the Feds kicked in the door. They had the crew under investigation and had listened to a phone call where they discussed how to continue torturing him. Again, a lucky motherfucker. Imagine you are in that chair, it is enough to make you become a true believer. The man today though? He is in stable condition but won't even say his name so they are waiting for the prints to come back.
Back home we are flooding, which always happens in monsoon. The tropics are strange. Just in different parts of 1 island like Mindanao you can have a 50 percent difference in annual rainfall. I love rain as well, a summer thunderstorm almost trumps a blizzard. I remember in 2007 after I had 1st moved to the island full time we had a bit heavier than usual downpour. On the side of our compound, dividing our compound from another compound belonging to Rizza's cousins' family is a creek (we have 14 compounds on our road, all the same family with each branch having their own). The creek is maybe a meter (3 feet) deep at its deepest part, moderately flowing into our rice paddies. Those who saw my photos in Gallery will have seen it, as well as the paddies.
That day the rain came heavily, breaking the incessant heat (tropic "heat" is claustrophobic at times, stepping out of the airport in Manila I have seen it actually make Westerners stumble). I walked out of my house, past the main house, and walked over to our dryer. We have our oldest rice mill, the 1st one Rizza's parents bought, in our compound and mills need rice driers. It is simply a concrete platform with concaved alleys running through it to leek the grain's moisture content before we put it through mechanical driers which we power with rice husks from previously milled rice. Anyway, the dryer is next to the outer wall of our compound, running along the road and I wanted to see if our paddies across the road were flooding.
Rice can grow wet or dry, but most in SE Asia farm wet, using dikes and sluices to keep the paddy in up to half a meter of water (1.5 ft) through most of the grow cycle. Of course its grueling work, we use water buffalo, noone farms rice mechanically there. Our labourers work with the buffalo, wading through the paddy, cobras, scorpions, even young crocs, pretty dangerous.
Anyway, I stood on the dryer, looking out at the road through our gun blinds (compounds are like forts), and to my suprise the paddies on the other side were gone, it was a lake as far as I could see. I walked across to the wall along the creek, the creek runs through a gulley about 2 meters deep (6 ft), yet the water was just inches from the top!!! It had only been raining for less than 2 hours.
We were all there at that point, watching in disbelief. Within 20 minutes the creek was gone, as was the road and the water was all around us but the compound, which is a concrete fort held, maybe half a meter (1.5 ft) of water inside but outside much deeper. Our compounds are like castles, labourers, tenant farmers and their families live in nipas (pronounced
"nee-pahz,"bamboo framed huts covered in palm leaf thatch) or at times, when they save enough, we let them build cinderblock homes , leasing the land to them (if they have been with us for more than 1 generation). It is just like serfdom, unfortunately. They build them on our land, outside our walls so that small villages form. We have almost 700 people just around our mills and if you include the family as a whole, I am guessing but probably 20,000 people).
On the other side of what had been the creek was a cinderblock structure housing 2 extended families of labourers but belonging to the next compound. A kid, 7 or 8 maybe (could have been 14 since undernourishment and the Asian physique plays with appearances), sat in a window. The buildings have openings for windows but no glass. He sat there, evidently home alone, sitting in the window, just looking at me. As I stood there in a staring contest his home began filling up with water rapidly, and as I tried to decide whether to play the hero and go over the wall and swim for him the water stopped rising. Within an hour only inches remained on the ground though the creek was at road level. It was the most amazing thing.
Mindanao is the most heavily forested island in the country. Our region, Caraga (Agusan del Sur our province is 1 of 5 that comprise Caraga) is the most heavily forested on the island, so we have the most rainforest in the country. Yet even in Caraga the land is being raped. I was never an environmentalist but now? I cheer everytime the NPA (New Peoples Army, Maoist insurgents) slaughter employees of multi-national mining and lumber companies. They only target those of companies not paying "Revolutionary Taxes" but still, that is another hectare of bush that won't be shat upon, at least for the time being.
We used to broker loads of lumber , shipping half loads to S.Korea, Japan and Singapore but I got us out of it. We still farm. Trees but we manage it responsibly with seedlings, etc. but each year the island loses more and more. Each year the floods get worse.
So...here in NY they are whining about the snow but I love it. Early Wednesday (yesterday) a BMW was driving when it began skidding in the snow. The driver rear-ended a gypsy cab (ghetto taxi) and BOOM. The BMW tried to back up and run but couldn't get around the snow piled up by the plows. The driver got out and ran like hell.
The cops come, take the story and finally search the BMW. They see the passenger side seat is all pushed forward and looking in back of it see a foot. In the trunk (rear seat removed) is a man who looked dead but was only unconscious, though 1 ear had been removed. Talk about lucky, that motherfucker better count his blessings.
Reminds me of another story. Back when I was in the game, this kid I knew fucked up his package. Time to collect and they snatched him. They took him to a flat in Brooklyn, stripped him, put his feet in ice water, taped his eyes and mouth shut, and began Tasering him. About 20 minutes into it when they began slicing him with razors the Feds kicked in the door. They had the crew under investigation and had listened to a phone call where they discussed how to continue torturing him. Again, a lucky motherfucker. Imagine you are in that chair, it is enough to make you become a true believer. The man today though? He is in stable condition but won't even say his name so they are waiting for the prints to come back.
I have so many. Most are friends for awhile, you help them out, give them a place to live for free. Give them jobs that pay a lot of money. Give them drugs whenever they want. The party ends. I loose everything. No job, no money, no where to live.
Where sis everyone go? I shoud have remember my motto, the only person that will help you is yourself. Eventhough you did so much for so many people, thye will not help you in time of need. They will run for the hills. Doesnt matter you knew them all your life. You give and they take. When you run out of something to give, they are gone.
All fuck it. From now on, I am only going to look out for my wife and I. Everyone can kiss my jewish ass.
Where sis everyone go? I shoud have remember my motto, the only person that will help you is yourself. Eventhough you did so much for so many people, thye will not help you in time of need. They will run for the hills. Doesnt matter you knew them all your life. You give and they take. When you run out of something to give, they are gone.
All fuck it. From now on, I am only going to look out for my wife and I. Everyone can kiss my jewish ass.
I just wanted to share with all the opened-minded peeps here. I tried plugging some of my MS Contins for the first time today around noon. I read a very thorough write up about the proper way of applying this technique. I must admit, at first, I was bit apprehensive. Not because of the procedure, but I wasn't sure if my body would cooperate with my plans. As it turned out...full cooperation
And I must say, it wasn't bad, not bad at all. In fact is was kinda nice. And best of all...no upset stomach. Considering that I've got horrendous acid reflux, I was hoping to try and administer the morphine with the least amount of discomfort and with the highest BA possible. It never would've crossed my mind to try this method had it not been for this wonderfully informative site. Thank you Bluelight for opening my eyes to new horizons and for relieving stomach discomfort.
And I must say, it wasn't bad, not bad at all. In fact is was kinda nice. And best of all...no upset stomach. Considering that I've got horrendous acid reflux, I was hoping to try and administer the morphine with the least amount of discomfort and with the highest BA possible. It never would've crossed my mind to try this method had it not been for this wonderfully informative site. Thank you Bluelight for opening my eyes to new horizons and for relieving stomach discomfort.
Ok well yesterday I went to the foodstamp office to get foodstamps, I've already been on them before so I still had my card. the lady at the office said I'd have $200 on my card today, so I was like ok cool, i'll be able to get food.
Well went to wallmart today and did some awesome grochie shopping, picking out veggies, fruits, noodles, eggs, milk. $100 worth of food. spent like an hour and a half in the store.
so it was time to check out, and after the casher rang up the food i pulled out my foodstamp card, well it wasnt working, so standing there with like 5 other people in line i started to panic, oh fuck wtf is going on?
so the casher tried my card again, and nothing. the card was saying invalid. fuck man, i dont have any cash? so a manager came up and askd if there was a problem, im like yeah theres a problem. my foodstamp card isn't going through.
so the manager was like u need to call them, so luckly i ran into a room mate that had a phone and called the 1800# on the back of my card, i typd in my pin and the robot voice was like "invailid card, transfeering to customer service".
so the lady i was transferd to was like "yeah, ur cards been deactivated", i'm like no fucking shit. why dong i have $? so she told me that i have a new card coming in the mail.
well thats just fucking lovely, i wish the bitch at the foodstamp office would have told me this shit yesterday.
so i'm out $100 worth of food,and im fucking hungry. and pissd.
shits so agravating.
i think the bitchs at human services does this shit to piss u off.
Well went to wallmart today and did some awesome grochie shopping, picking out veggies, fruits, noodles, eggs, milk. $100 worth of food. spent like an hour and a half in the store.
so it was time to check out, and after the casher rang up the food i pulled out my foodstamp card, well it wasnt working, so standing there with like 5 other people in line i started to panic, oh fuck wtf is going on?
so the casher tried my card again, and nothing. the card was saying invalid. fuck man, i dont have any cash? so a manager came up and askd if there was a problem, im like yeah theres a problem. my foodstamp card isn't going through.
so the manager was like u need to call them, so luckly i ran into a room mate that had a phone and called the 1800# on the back of my card, i typd in my pin and the robot voice was like "invailid card, transfeering to customer service".
so the lady i was transferd to was like "yeah, ur cards been deactivated", i'm like no fucking shit. why dong i have $? so she told me that i have a new card coming in the mail.
well thats just fucking lovely, i wish the bitch at the foodstamp office would have told me this shit yesterday.
so i'm out $100 worth of food,and im fucking hungry. and pissd.
shits so agravating.
i think the bitchs at human services does this shit to piss u off.
My experience with "Suboxone Film was not too good....I tried them for two months and felt I was'nt getting enough absorbtion of Bupe. My doctor has since switched me back to the tablets and they seem to be working much better again.
So I Tried DXM the other day for the 2nd time in the form of 22 gels, then took another 12 gels for a re-dose.
My friend told me to listen to a song that would ultimately make the mind blow effect better when sleeping... him and I had NO idea How Much Better the dreaming visuals were...
Try to picture this if you can.
Your looking at an eye ball sideways. you see no white just the cornea in a glass with a sliver shine light effect and a black backround.
the pupil can't really be seen but you know it's there. now the iris is SO VIVID with colour, it has red, orange, blue, teal, and some green swished all around in it half way down from the cornea.
I thought i could see every colour in HD and the iris was like mountains, i could could see every dip, vally, arch, slant, and uprise of the iris. then the hyper speed effect!
All of a sudden with out warning i blasted myself into the iris part of the eye, and it burts into a Bunch (million) Particles! they were ridgid, 3D colourful particles but was suprise to notice they were moving by my head at a SUPER SLOW rate.
I started to play with these particles, felt like i could love anyone anywhere at anytime kind of feeling. then the pheniox effect...
Just as i touched the most vivid incolour blue/red/yellow the particles rushed into a central location infront of me (felt all the particles rush past me backwards), A Blinding white marble was infront of me just glowing with swirls of these colours...
then when it floated to me and rested in my hands for a split second... WOOOOSH! up-rose from this egg like marble exploded the PHOENIX! In the Most Stunning HD almost 4D particle/fire explosion, herds it's most beautiful call to the stars and flew away.
and then i woke up so content, and relaxed like never before. :D :D
ever since this dream on DXM i'm forever thinking about the colors and everything it makes other colours look dull in real life...
My friend told me to listen to a song that would ultimately make the mind blow effect better when sleeping... him and I had NO idea How Much Better the dreaming visuals were...
Try to picture this if you can.
Your looking at an eye ball sideways. you see no white just the cornea in a glass with a sliver shine light effect and a black backround.
the pupil can't really be seen but you know it's there. now the iris is SO VIVID with colour, it has red, orange, blue, teal, and some green swished all around in it half way down from the cornea.
I thought i could see every colour in HD and the iris was like mountains, i could could see every dip, vally, arch, slant, and uprise of the iris. then the hyper speed effect!
All of a sudden with out warning i blasted myself into the iris part of the eye, and it burts into a Bunch (million) Particles! they were ridgid, 3D colourful particles but was suprise to notice they were moving by my head at a SUPER SLOW rate.
I started to play with these particles, felt like i could love anyone anywhere at anytime kind of feeling. then the pheniox effect...
Just as i touched the most vivid incolour blue/red/yellow the particles rushed into a central location infront of me (felt all the particles rush past me backwards), A Blinding white marble was infront of me just glowing with swirls of these colours...
then when it floated to me and rested in my hands for a split second... WOOOOSH! up-rose from this egg like marble exploded the PHOENIX! In the Most Stunning HD almost 4D particle/fire explosion, herds it's most beautiful call to the stars and flew away.
and then i woke up so content, and relaxed like never before. :D :D
ever since this dream on DXM i'm forever thinking about the colors and everything it makes other colours look dull in real life...
remember when days weren't based around tens, twenties, deals, nods, secret keeping? remember when a good day was a bump and a nod? remember that first time you upped your dose and fell in love? remember when that dose became the norm? remember the first big purchase you made, the one that was worth more than 100, 200, 300$? remember how fast that shit went? remember how you thought that big ass package you got was gonna last you a week, a couple weeks, and ended up gettin you thru three days? remember when you realized you were in too deep, shit was over your head, you weren't just havin fun anymore? remember the first time the word "junkie" slipped thru your mind, you pushed it so far back in your skull, you let it fall out and dipped out to forget it was ever there? remember the first joke someone made about you, "haha, u dippin out u fuckin junkie"? you laughed, you let your smile cover it up, you left that smile on your face a lil too long as you stared, you thought, you realized.
i am a fuckin junkie.
i am no different from your local bum, your local beggar.
"homeless, harmless, hungry, please help"
i could be holdin that sign. i am holding that sign, not literally, but i'm standing here, crying, hungry, havin no home to go to because i only find solace in my nod. home is where the heart is, right? well mine is in that little blue, green, white pill, that fentanyl patch recommended for pain only needing around the clock opioid maintenance. my pain needs around the clock opioid maintenance, but they don't make medicine for the broken hearted, the souls with holes, the people who walk around cold and dead and only feel alive once that shit is pumpin thru their veins, once their eyes are so pinned they look like they've been starin into the sun for 13 years, once they can't hold a newport in their hand without lighting fire to most and all clothing materials in the vicinity because they can't keep their shit together for 10 minutes to finish a fucking cigarette.
because the pain is so fuckin deep, the cuts run right thru the most vital organ, because no one can fucking touch where i'm at, so i push off, i nod out, i give in to my demons because i'm tired of going thru therapists like cheap toilet paper, i'm tired of "test runs" for this SSRI, that SSRI, this one will help that one, this one will make this one work better. but i know what works, and i know what helps, and you can't fucking touch it, you can't fucking touch me.
when i'm out, when i'm on the run, i'm on top of the fuckin world. nothing can hurt me, nothing can touch me, nothing will ruin me. i'm out, i'm living, i'm running towards salvation. i'm running towards my church, that rundown house on the corner of whatever and whatever. i'm going to my priest to ask for the body of christ, the healing powers of the lord. my dealer in the hood, that magic pill that makes everything better. my altar is his table, my prayer is whispered to the anointed, "just 5 to hold me over". my donation to the church is handed over, slid across pale wood littered with cigar guts and weed seeds, cigarette ashes and powder lines. they are our statues, our saints, the ones we pay to pray to, to light a candle.
i pray to thee, save my soul, i give my pain to thee, send me to my grave, give me peace, give me mercy, give me eternal silence, let my tired soul rest, let me come home. a home without tears and shakes and sweats, a home without the man on the corner taking all my hard earned money, a home where i can rest, where i can love, where i can heal and be whole again. let me lay my head forever.
a-fuckin-men.
i am a fuckin junkie.
i am no different from your local bum, your local beggar.
"homeless, harmless, hungry, please help"
i could be holdin that sign. i am holding that sign, not literally, but i'm standing here, crying, hungry, havin no home to go to because i only find solace in my nod. home is where the heart is, right? well mine is in that little blue, green, white pill, that fentanyl patch recommended for pain only needing around the clock opioid maintenance. my pain needs around the clock opioid maintenance, but they don't make medicine for the broken hearted, the souls with holes, the people who walk around cold and dead and only feel alive once that shit is pumpin thru their veins, once their eyes are so pinned they look like they've been starin into the sun for 13 years, once they can't hold a newport in their hand without lighting fire to most and all clothing materials in the vicinity because they can't keep their shit together for 10 minutes to finish a fucking cigarette.
because the pain is so fuckin deep, the cuts run right thru the most vital organ, because no one can fucking touch where i'm at, so i push off, i nod out, i give in to my demons because i'm tired of going thru therapists like cheap toilet paper, i'm tired of "test runs" for this SSRI, that SSRI, this one will help that one, this one will make this one work better. but i know what works, and i know what helps, and you can't fucking touch it, you can't fucking touch me.
when i'm out, when i'm on the run, i'm on top of the fuckin world. nothing can hurt me, nothing can touch me, nothing will ruin me. i'm out, i'm living, i'm running towards salvation. i'm running towards my church, that rundown house on the corner of whatever and whatever. i'm going to my priest to ask for the body of christ, the healing powers of the lord. my dealer in the hood, that magic pill that makes everything better. my altar is his table, my prayer is whispered to the anointed, "just 5 to hold me over". my donation to the church is handed over, slid across pale wood littered with cigar guts and weed seeds, cigarette ashes and powder lines. they are our statues, our saints, the ones we pay to pray to, to light a candle.
i pray to thee, save my soul, i give my pain to thee, send me to my grave, give me peace, give me mercy, give me eternal silence, let my tired soul rest, let me come home. a home without tears and shakes and sweats, a home without the man on the corner taking all my hard earned money, a home where i can rest, where i can love, where i can heal and be whole again. let me lay my head forever.
a-fuckin-men.
I got to head to downtown today, its a short ride on the bus, like 15 minutes. I got to go talk to real lawyers, Public Defenders hate hearing that, hahaha. But hey, if your ass knew the law, I wouldnt have to hire a real one. It was so fucked up, I knew more law than my PD. I was the one doing all the talking hahahahaha. But than I am pretty smart and I did parlegal work for my Dad. I got to get the lawyer for the wife so I dont bring her down. Hopefully I can get some other deal other than to go on a 4 month vacation. I hate the food and than I will have so tell everyone Hi, I'm back. This time if any of the (this might sound racist, but we call it Politics here in SD) brothers/others or South Siders give me shit, they will see how this Wood fucks around when he aint dope sick. Last time around I almost beat the shit out of a brother, just cause we had to argue over the phone. Dumb shit. I am getting ahead of myself, I'm so done with this lifestyle, makes you old quick. Cross me fingers and wish me luck. Court isnt till the 3rd, but hopefully by than I will have a bunch of shit to show the judge.
If you ever saw a picture of me you would laugh at me saying this shit. I always got, "You Do H???" or "Your from Where????" or "You got in a fight"
Late
If you ever saw a picture of me you would laugh at me saying this shit. I always got, "You Do H???" or "Your from Where????" or "You got in a fight"
Late
Hi, my name is Kooter (thats all you will get out of me for now, haha). I am that guy who just loves to help that person whoi is stuck on the side of the orad. You may think of me as some type of hero or such but I am not. I just like to help my fellow man. You may think I am the nicest young man to come around.
I'm not. I am a very bad person. I did drugs for a very long time, shit if you are one of the people I was helping in the past, I was high when you met me.
I also beat the shit out of some fuckers too. I threw this one dude out a window, shouldn't have called my wife a bitch (even though she was making fun of your dumb ass). I didn't get caught though, I didn't get caught a lot.
I stole, I cheated, I hustled. I just thought you could use some help and I would want some to help my father/mother/sister/brother/friend. When I saw that one accident and your car started on fire, I giot you our of there and threw sand on the car to put out the fire, sorry I had to leave, I was drinking at the time and I knew the cops wouldn't have liked that.
When I saw that other crash and you were pinned beneath the little car me and buds got you out, hopefully you are ok. I wish I could have stayed, but that huge sack in my pocket could have gotten me in trouble.
My wife and sister and all my family say I am a good person, but I know the truth. I am evil. I do things other people would never have thought of doing in there whole lives. I robbed your wallet before, but felt so bad, I just kept the cash and threw the thing in a mailbox. At least you got your cards back.
To the guy who ran my dog over when I was in jail. You are lucky I never met you. You would be in a wheel chair. You would be more hurt than my dog. I love my dogs more than myself. You are a very lucky person, very lucky. Very fucking lucky. She is a live at least, I just had to give her to the Basset Society so some rich fucking person who has a guilty conscience can love her, give her a place to run and play. Her sister misses her by the way. It's all your fault for running her over.
So basically I wanted people to know, you may think that guy who is being your hero is just a stand up citizen but most likely he's not. He's a great guy, but he has the same problems as me. The guy with the tie, he can care less about you, but that bald headed gangster, he will go out of his way to risk his life for yours. next time you see him walking down the street, don't be scared, just show a little respect, he has been threw a lot of shit.
I do not need a thanks after helping you, I just feel better that I can help you and that you get top go home to your perfect family and say "I love you" to them, because I can't.
I'm not. I am a very bad person. I did drugs for a very long time, shit if you are one of the people I was helping in the past, I was high when you met me.
I also beat the shit out of some fuckers too. I threw this one dude out a window, shouldn't have called my wife a bitch (even though she was making fun of your dumb ass). I didn't get caught though, I didn't get caught a lot.
I stole, I cheated, I hustled. I just thought you could use some help and I would want some to help my father/mother/sister/brother/friend. When I saw that one accident and your car started on fire, I giot you our of there and threw sand on the car to put out the fire, sorry I had to leave, I was drinking at the time and I knew the cops wouldn't have liked that.
When I saw that other crash and you were pinned beneath the little car me and buds got you out, hopefully you are ok. I wish I could have stayed, but that huge sack in my pocket could have gotten me in trouble.
My wife and sister and all my family say I am a good person, but I know the truth. I am evil. I do things other people would never have thought of doing in there whole lives. I robbed your wallet before, but felt so bad, I just kept the cash and threw the thing in a mailbox. At least you got your cards back.
To the guy who ran my dog over when I was in jail. You are lucky I never met you. You would be in a wheel chair. You would be more hurt than my dog. I love my dogs more than myself. You are a very lucky person, very lucky. Very fucking lucky. She is a live at least, I just had to give her to the Basset Society so some rich fucking person who has a guilty conscience can love her, give her a place to run and play. Her sister misses her by the way. It's all your fault for running her over.
So basically I wanted people to know, you may think that guy who is being your hero is just a stand up citizen but most likely he's not. He's a great guy, but he has the same problems as me. The guy with the tie, he can care less about you, but that bald headed gangster, he will go out of his way to risk his life for yours. next time you see him walking down the street, don't be scared, just show a little respect, he has been threw a lot of shit.
I do not need a thanks after helping you, I just feel better that I can help you and that you get top go home to your perfect family and say "I love you" to them, because I can't.
What a fucking crappy day. I went to the ole NA meeting. Met a few people,got a few numbers, yadda, yadda, yadda.
But I was very depressed from not being able to contact my wife at all. This starting to really get to me. Like, I'm feeling super depressed and the shit runs deep in the family. I was actually assumed to have it when I was younger, but we didn't have health insurance so who knows. But I was knowing that something could help with this growing pain. There is a way to just not care, and I was getting close to not caring. I'm bussing it, so basically I was half way there, made a phone call and told that person I need a fix. She put my wife on the line, and I was happy again.
I didn't put any chemicals into my body, eventhough I keep getting that itch to tear a little jole in my arm with a "pointy object" that is filled with a dark substance. Even though, I was really jonsing, I got my fix from hearing the most beatiful voice.
This BULLshit, and those bulls just ate a laxatives and are having the time of there lives.
Fuck it, Fuck the bullshit
But I was very depressed from not being able to contact my wife at all. This starting to really get to me. Like, I'm feeling super depressed and the shit runs deep in the family. I was actually assumed to have it when I was younger, but we didn't have health insurance so who knows. But I was knowing that something could help with this growing pain. There is a way to just not care, and I was getting close to not caring. I'm bussing it, so basically I was half way there, made a phone call and told that person I need a fix. She put my wife on the line, and I was happy again.
I didn't put any chemicals into my body, eventhough I keep getting that itch to tear a little jole in my arm with a "pointy object" that is filled with a dark substance. Even though, I was really jonsing, I got my fix from hearing the most beatiful voice.
This BULLshit, and those bulls just ate a laxatives and are having the time of there lives.
Fuck it, Fuck the bullshit
Talked to some lawyers, I what I knew to be true is true. The only person that I love more than anything is getting fucked because of my past. I am going to get her one of those nefty suits that has special powers like Super Man, except they just make felonies got to misdimeanors (god I cant spell for shit). Talked to the County Health also, we will get into a program right away.
It just sucks that they offer time to someone who has no priors. I hate the package deal thing. I love knowing how to work the system though. My baby will be tried seperate from me. I might just do the time, its nothing. 4 months ain't shit to a guy like me. I just hate the fucking food. Oh god the food, it's like someone said, "What is the shittiest food we can make? I know, here it is. Oh and lets cough in it and get everyone sick to boot."
FUCK THE POLICE
It just sucks that they offer time to someone who has no priors. I hate the package deal thing. I love knowing how to work the system though. My baby will be tried seperate from me. I might just do the time, its nothing. 4 months ain't shit to a guy like me. I just hate the fucking food. Oh god the food, it's like someone said, "What is the shittiest food we can make? I know, here it is. Oh and lets cough in it and get everyone sick to boot."
FUCK THE POLICE
Still cool today. Morning clouds startign to burn off. Outside temp in the 60s. It might reach 70 degrees later. My bicycle chain broke during my morning commute. Had to stop and fix that. Acutally, I replaced it on the spot. That chain has been snapping about once a month so I started carrying an extra chain to replace it next time it broke. It was tricky because it is a super-narrow 9 gear Shimano HG chain. The link pin didnt' want to line up with the hole in the outer part of the link. Continuing my commute, stopped at a coffee shop and washed most of the chain grease off my hands. Some won't come off. Had 2 cups coffee. Listening to: SomaFM streaming audio. Industrial noise/Experimental. Throbbing Gristle, Bauhaus, Coil, Skinny Puppy, Lustmord, Tool, Lab Report, Clock Dva, etc. One might describe this music genre as "Entertainment through pain."
I usually run 2 or 3 times a week for a total of around 20 miles/week. I commute by bicycle and dont' drive a car or take the bus. Since age 25 (quite a while ago), this I've needed to do to get in shape and maintain fitness. Now, I've missed running for the last 3 weeks. Partly because of work, and partly because changing my schedule to take care of the injured cat. So, yesterday evening, I was changing into some mud-clothes to wear while working in the garden. The pants I've had since high school. As I tried to button the waste, the thread holding the button snapped. And then, I noticed that my belly looks bloated. Time to get back to running and get rid of this gut. It took me 3 weeks to get it -- maybe a couple of weeks to get rid of it?
I usually run 2 or 3 times a week for a total of around 20 miles/week. I commute by bicycle and dont' drive a car or take the bus. Since age 25 (quite a while ago), this I've needed to do to get in shape and maintain fitness. Now, I've missed running for the last 3 weeks. Partly because of work, and partly because changing my schedule to take care of the injured cat. So, yesterday evening, I was changing into some mud-clothes to wear while working in the garden. The pants I've had since high school. As I tried to button the waste, the thread holding the button snapped. And then, I noticed that my belly looks bloated. Time to get back to running and get rid of this gut. It took me 3 weeks to get it -- maybe a couple of weeks to get rid of it?
Preface: I was living in Tampa, had a son (6th child) with a Puerto Rican girl, and then after she married another man I fathered my 7th and last child, a daughter with a Mexican woman.
Now...Tampa in the mid-1990s had absolutely no heroin scene. It is interesting why and how it changed.
Most BLers are too young to know the climate of the US drug scene from the mid-1980s to the mid-1990s. The 60s of course changed the entire American outlook in terms of morality. In the 70s even the DEA was preaching that cocaine was non-addictive and so prosecutions rarely took place against cocaine violations, and when they did it was generally for smuggling. The Federal System still had parole (which they strangely called "Probation," despite the system also having actual probation). Coke was the in-drug, symbolising hedonism, affluence (as opposed to some nappy headed coke whore as it does today) and people wore little gold spoons around their neck, actually bragging about their heavy usage.
In 1983 a crew of Dominican immigrants (mostly illegal) began converting cocaine into its freebase form. They didn't use "extenders," simply added sodium carbonate, water and heat, chill as you stir and voila. They began selling it in tiny ziplocks and named their product, "Based Balls" [sic]. Americans entered the age of crack. Prior to crack Americans prepared their cocaine with ammonia to basify it, and ether to retrieve the freebase from the ammonia. The problem is that if you don't wash and dry the product you leave residual ether, which is highly flammable. When someone uses cocaine, a stimulant, their hands shake, they become way too impatient to properly prepare the freebase and so accidents began happening more frequently as coke entered the 80s...Richard Pryor became the poster boy for shitty judgement during 1 such binge when he set himself on fire. Such incidents tended to push Americans away from smoking cocaine.
When the afore mentioned Dominican crew began selling tiny ziplocs with pre-packaged freebase they were already dealing with people fairly used to smoking cocaine. While people didn't freebase much there was a custom amongst inner city youth where they would take powder coke (cocaine hcl.) and sprinkle it inside what most now call a "blunt" (cheap cigar in which the tobacco has been removed, except for the wrapper, and marijuana has been put in its place). These cocaine laced super joints were called "Boolies."One got a bit of a "freeze" on the inside of their mouth and just a momentary taste of the coke and its effect. When Booly smokers began lacing these joints with Based Balls it ripped users a new asshole. The clientele increased exponentially and by the summer of 1984 crack was the new #1 drug in New York City.
Stimulants are an entirely different ball game when it comes to addiction. The easiest way to describe it would be to imagine the normal physical, mental and emotional state as the baseline (no pun intended haha) on a graph. With just a single 10 second "hit" of effectively smoked stimulants (crack, shabu/syabu, yaa baa/yama, amphetamine freebase -tan tar that used to be moderately popular in the UK) the user rockets upwards in a very high arc, reaching the highest point extremely fast and then...not only back to baseline like a lead weight, the user plummets past that baseline into a deep depression and physical lethargy. This naturally drives the user to seek that apex post haste. Forethought disappears thanks to an almost total lack of inhibition. This means the user will almost immediately do things they never imagined in their worst nightmares just to feel that apex again.
As usage exponentially spread it also began in metropolitan areas over much of the country as dealers saw how profits soared higher than anyone thought possible. Cities like Tampa, whose "drug scene" had been here-to-fore limited to marijuana and pills suddenly were overwhelmed. Law enforcement was not in any way equipped for an avalanche of addiction-related crime and so people got desperate. The US Govt. under Reagan actually listed crack as the most pressing security threat to the US after nuclear weapons. Under his successor, Bush Sr., a local DC dealer was nabbed at a routine DWI Checkpoint across from the Whitehouse with several ounces of crack just before Bush went on air live to warn the country about this new menace. The President made a very good impression on the US public, holding up that bag filled with massive rocks as he looked disgusted. With that possibly engineered moment America changed irrevocably. The "Kingpin Law" was enacted, as were mandatory sentencing guidelines that amazingly made a distinction between 2 forms of the SAME substance. A person with 4 ounces of powder could get probation on a 1st time offence but let it be 4 ounces of freebase and it was Life. More over, parole was abolished so that Life no longer meant 18 years, it meant forever (indeed, it still does). States quickly followed suit in enacting the same knee jerk laws and regulations. Because crack was confined to urban locales this meant whites, who at the time tended to indulge themselves only in powder were not filling up prisons, blacks, and to a lesser degree Latinos were. This unpleasant truth turned back the clock on black/white relations.
As crack began stabilising a new dynamic began shapimg up as if to try and take its place in as America's new drug menace; In 1994 Colombians finally gained a marketshare of the US heroin market. Using well established distribution networks that had originally imported marijuana before graduating into cocaine they leaned on distributors in South Florida to begin building up clientele.
As I have said, I drove lorrys, trucks, and while I would fly up to New York and smuggle back 2 or 300 bags every month, it was for my own enjoyment. I had made a mistake in the army when I tried to smuggle some hashish but that was it. I considered potentially distributing those NY glassines but noone used heroin in Tampa. Then, after seeking a local connection for heroin I finally met a Puerto Rican dealer selling Colombian chocolate coloured #4 (as I mentioned in a previous entry).
I began using heavily, and 1 day 1 saw a Puerto Rican girl I knew through friends. I pulled my truck over and gave her a lift. We began talking and she had been thinking about my idea of selling NY glassines in Tampa. She then told me she and her mother were willing to work for me. I dropped her off and after I finished work went to her home where the 2 of them lived. The mother agreed with the idea enthusiastically, telling me Tampa now had a small but lucrative street scene. I was suprised but asked her about it. She told me it was on the outskirts of the Ponce De Leon Projects (which were near by) and asked if I wanted to take a look at it. I agreed and the daughter and I walked over
15 minutes later we were on a street corner outside the projects. She saw a man in his 50s and said hi from across the street. The guy, Max, was the only street dealer in Tampa but was desperate for quality heroin. He had 2 sources but both were garbage. I thought about the Puerto Rican connection I was beginning to form but Max killed that thought when he told me he was desperate to sell "my" heroin (meaning NY glassines). I asked him to show me what he was selling and to my utter amazement he showed me tiny pieces of aluminum foil that looked like they were holding single pieces of small blotter acid (in NY in that era individual dosages of LSD were wrapped in tinfoil, tiny squares). I asked him to open a bag and he handed me 2. Opening I found perhaps 40mg of off white powder with dark brown specks in it (the specks being the actual heroin). The shit was garbage. I asked him what the price was and he said they were dimes (10 US Dollars). I asked him who he worked for, etc., and he explained that he worked for himself buying 2 to 3 grammes for 300 US per gramme, and each gramme made 40 dimes after he stepped on it (adulterated it, aka "cut" it). He then told me he usually sold between 60 and 70 dimes a day. He was making a profit of 100 to 150 US a day selling garbage.
I didn't see how it would be worth the effort to sell the heroin I had just connected with after giving him his daily PC (his percentage of profit on sales each day). NY bags though, that might work. I told him that if he and I worked together he would be selling bags at least 50% bigger (NY glassines were 100mg per bag uniformly at the time, now they are at least 150mgs) but that I wanted 15 Dollars per bag. Anything he made above 15 would serve as his PC. He could easily sell them for quarters (25 Dollars) but I recommended 20 per so as to run volume (which increases your profit a lot more than selling less bags at a higher price). He agreed. As we talked he would go over to this musty thrown away couch tsitting under a tree that served as his office. Listening to the banter I saw that his customers judged purity by the colour of the product.
They ignorantly believed that it was impossible to find adulterants ("cut") that wasn't white. Since all Colombian heroin at the time was the colour of cocoa powder they judged a bag to be purer if it was dark.
The problem though was that NY had practically no Colombian heroin, it was almost entirely SE Asian #4. NY addicts had always had snow white heroin NY addicts usually would not even buy non-white heroin when sick (NY of that era had 5 or 6 brands on most corners where heroin was sold). Brown at that time was the Mexican #4, "Mexican Mud." In NY they used Puerto Rican slang and called it, "Chocofine" (as in rhymes with "Chocomine"). I had a dilemmna.
To be continued...
Now...Tampa in the mid-1990s had absolutely no heroin scene. It is interesting why and how it changed.
Most BLers are too young to know the climate of the US drug scene from the mid-1980s to the mid-1990s. The 60s of course changed the entire American outlook in terms of morality. In the 70s even the DEA was preaching that cocaine was non-addictive and so prosecutions rarely took place against cocaine violations, and when they did it was generally for smuggling. The Federal System still had parole (which they strangely called "Probation," despite the system also having actual probation). Coke was the in-drug, symbolising hedonism, affluence (as opposed to some nappy headed coke whore as it does today) and people wore little gold spoons around their neck, actually bragging about their heavy usage.
In 1983 a crew of Dominican immigrants (mostly illegal) began converting cocaine into its freebase form. They didn't use "extenders," simply added sodium carbonate, water and heat, chill as you stir and voila. They began selling it in tiny ziplocks and named their product, "Based Balls" [sic]. Americans entered the age of crack. Prior to crack Americans prepared their cocaine with ammonia to basify it, and ether to retrieve the freebase from the ammonia. The problem is that if you don't wash and dry the product you leave residual ether, which is highly flammable. When someone uses cocaine, a stimulant, their hands shake, they become way too impatient to properly prepare the freebase and so accidents began happening more frequently as coke entered the 80s...Richard Pryor became the poster boy for shitty judgement during 1 such binge when he set himself on fire. Such incidents tended to push Americans away from smoking cocaine.
When the afore mentioned Dominican crew began selling tiny ziplocs with pre-packaged freebase they were already dealing with people fairly used to smoking cocaine. While people didn't freebase much there was a custom amongst inner city youth where they would take powder coke (cocaine hcl.) and sprinkle it inside what most now call a "blunt" (cheap cigar in which the tobacco has been removed, except for the wrapper, and marijuana has been put in its place). These cocaine laced super joints were called "Boolies."One got a bit of a "freeze" on the inside of their mouth and just a momentary taste of the coke and its effect. When Booly smokers began lacing these joints with Based Balls it ripped users a new asshole. The clientele increased exponentially and by the summer of 1984 crack was the new #1 drug in New York City.
Stimulants are an entirely different ball game when it comes to addiction. The easiest way to describe it would be to imagine the normal physical, mental and emotional state as the baseline (no pun intended haha) on a graph. With just a single 10 second "hit" of effectively smoked stimulants (crack, shabu/syabu, yaa baa/yama, amphetamine freebase -tan tar that used to be moderately popular in the UK) the user rockets upwards in a very high arc, reaching the highest point extremely fast and then...not only back to baseline like a lead weight, the user plummets past that baseline into a deep depression and physical lethargy. This naturally drives the user to seek that apex post haste. Forethought disappears thanks to an almost total lack of inhibition. This means the user will almost immediately do things they never imagined in their worst nightmares just to feel that apex again.
As usage exponentially spread it also began in metropolitan areas over much of the country as dealers saw how profits soared higher than anyone thought possible. Cities like Tampa, whose "drug scene" had been here-to-fore limited to marijuana and pills suddenly were overwhelmed. Law enforcement was not in any way equipped for an avalanche of addiction-related crime and so people got desperate. The US Govt. under Reagan actually listed crack as the most pressing security threat to the US after nuclear weapons. Under his successor, Bush Sr., a local DC dealer was nabbed at a routine DWI Checkpoint across from the Whitehouse with several ounces of crack just before Bush went on air live to warn the country about this new menace. The President made a very good impression on the US public, holding up that bag filled with massive rocks as he looked disgusted. With that possibly engineered moment America changed irrevocably. The "Kingpin Law" was enacted, as were mandatory sentencing guidelines that amazingly made a distinction between 2 forms of the SAME substance. A person with 4 ounces of powder could get probation on a 1st time offence but let it be 4 ounces of freebase and it was Life. More over, parole was abolished so that Life no longer meant 18 years, it meant forever (indeed, it still does). States quickly followed suit in enacting the same knee jerk laws and regulations. Because crack was confined to urban locales this meant whites, who at the time tended to indulge themselves only in powder were not filling up prisons, blacks, and to a lesser degree Latinos were. This unpleasant truth turned back the clock on black/white relations.
As crack began stabilising a new dynamic began shapimg up as if to try and take its place in as America's new drug menace; In 1994 Colombians finally gained a marketshare of the US heroin market. Using well established distribution networks that had originally imported marijuana before graduating into cocaine they leaned on distributors in South Florida to begin building up clientele.
As I have said, I drove lorrys, trucks, and while I would fly up to New York and smuggle back 2 or 300 bags every month, it was for my own enjoyment. I had made a mistake in the army when I tried to smuggle some hashish but that was it. I considered potentially distributing those NY glassines but noone used heroin in Tampa. Then, after seeking a local connection for heroin I finally met a Puerto Rican dealer selling Colombian chocolate coloured #4 (as I mentioned in a previous entry).
I began using heavily, and 1 day 1 saw a Puerto Rican girl I knew through friends. I pulled my truck over and gave her a lift. We began talking and she had been thinking about my idea of selling NY glassines in Tampa. She then told me she and her mother were willing to work for me. I dropped her off and after I finished work went to her home where the 2 of them lived. The mother agreed with the idea enthusiastically, telling me Tampa now had a small but lucrative street scene. I was suprised but asked her about it. She told me it was on the outskirts of the Ponce De Leon Projects (which were near by) and asked if I wanted to take a look at it. I agreed and the daughter and I walked over
15 minutes later we were on a street corner outside the projects. She saw a man in his 50s and said hi from across the street. The guy, Max, was the only street dealer in Tampa but was desperate for quality heroin. He had 2 sources but both were garbage. I thought about the Puerto Rican connection I was beginning to form but Max killed that thought when he told me he was desperate to sell "my" heroin (meaning NY glassines). I asked him to show me what he was selling and to my utter amazement he showed me tiny pieces of aluminum foil that looked like they were holding single pieces of small blotter acid (in NY in that era individual dosages of LSD were wrapped in tinfoil, tiny squares). I asked him to open a bag and he handed me 2. Opening I found perhaps 40mg of off white powder with dark brown specks in it (the specks being the actual heroin). The shit was garbage. I asked him what the price was and he said they were dimes (10 US Dollars). I asked him who he worked for, etc., and he explained that he worked for himself buying 2 to 3 grammes for 300 US per gramme, and each gramme made 40 dimes after he stepped on it (adulterated it, aka "cut" it). He then told me he usually sold between 60 and 70 dimes a day. He was making a profit of 100 to 150 US a day selling garbage.
I didn't see how it would be worth the effort to sell the heroin I had just connected with after giving him his daily PC (his percentage of profit on sales each day). NY bags though, that might work. I told him that if he and I worked together he would be selling bags at least 50% bigger (NY glassines were 100mg per bag uniformly at the time, now they are at least 150mgs) but that I wanted 15 Dollars per bag. Anything he made above 15 would serve as his PC. He could easily sell them for quarters (25 Dollars) but I recommended 20 per so as to run volume (which increases your profit a lot more than selling less bags at a higher price). He agreed. As we talked he would go over to this musty thrown away couch tsitting under a tree that served as his office. Listening to the banter I saw that his customers judged purity by the colour of the product.
They ignorantly believed that it was impossible to find adulterants ("cut") that wasn't white. Since all Colombian heroin at the time was the colour of cocoa powder they judged a bag to be purer if it was dark.
The problem though was that NY had practically no Colombian heroin, it was almost entirely SE Asian #4. NY addicts had always had snow white heroin NY addicts usually would not even buy non-white heroin when sick (NY of that era had 5 or 6 brands on most corners where heroin was sold). Brown at that time was the Mexican #4, "Mexican Mud." In NY they used Puerto Rican slang and called it, "Chocofine" (as in rhymes with "Chocomine"). I had a dilemmna.
To be continued...
Before I knew it
My heart not a stone wall of opium
Nothing and everything just a mess
and here was us
a theory of chaos to the test
what was worry?
just an olympus
of misfits
and slowly
the past catches fast
and thought we could just let it go
but like a rubber band
or string on a violin
a boomerang of inevitable
Always I said, I am a exercise of Murphy's Law, and you always just laughed, and I'd chuckle but now I don't.
That time, an event horizon, of drinking too much, and chasing a debacle of shit.
We met across lucid oceans, face to face.. But didnt know tomorrow
more real than any place.
I look around and see your shadow.
Shakespearean allegory of futility, platonic irony. All that fucked up tragedy.
I cant even masturbate without crying. But not a joke, I guess it'll be worth it. Like a crescendo of steel stringed heavy metallic hell and echos in my mind like a baseline -your body against mine.
My heart not a stone wall of opium
Nothing and everything just a mess
and here was us
a theory of chaos to the test
what was worry?
just an olympus
of misfits
and slowly
the past catches fast
and thought we could just let it go
but like a rubber band
or string on a violin
a boomerang of inevitable
Always I said, I am a exercise of Murphy's Law, and you always just laughed, and I'd chuckle but now I don't.
That time, an event horizon, of drinking too much, and chasing a debacle of shit.
We met across lucid oceans, face to face.. But didnt know tomorrow
more real than any place.
I look around and see your shadow.
Shakespearean allegory of futility, platonic irony. All that fucked up tragedy.
I cant even masturbate without crying. But not a joke, I guess it'll be worth it. Like a crescendo of steel stringed heavy metallic hell and echos in my mind like a baseline -your body against mine.
And I was standing in front of it. I swear to god that the courts in SD is a dick measuring contest with the PD holding the ruler (thought of this at court today). I got offered the joke of the day as a deal and than to make matters worst, they gave my wife the same bullshit. I told them I need a 2 week extension (get it extension, dick measuring contest, hahaha) and got it of course. I definately need to find a way to make money so I can get a real lawyer. It's so funny how they fuck you so much that they make you do the shit that gets you into trouble. I am going to try to do this legit, I am too tired of the underground scene to try it a different way.
I didn't use with all this stressful bullshit, so at least I am happy about that. Eventhough my family is kind of giving up on me, because I rather out instead of in. I cant go in because I need to work. I need to work so I don't become homeless. It's just one great fucking circle.
I got to see the most beautiful woman today. I made love to her twice and got to give her head to boot. God we were so sexually frustrated since we weren't allowed to see each other. She told me that she told her ma that she cannot be able away from so long because we are very sexual (I guess you can say that because we have sex almost everyday for 10 years.) So even though I had the shittiest of court dates, I am still happy I got to see her.
I know they are fucking her (the DA) because of my past. She has no record at all (just 1 infraction). My record, you can make a movie with. It's bullshit, I told her family to get a real lawyer and to try her seperate from my loser ass. I can do jail time standing on my head, especially since I wont be in withdrawls this time around. Maybe I can become homie in a prison gang and get my fac tatted.
I just have so much shit going thru my head and I am so alone because she had to leave. I am going to try and get into a program tomorrow and get the job back tomorrow so if anyone sees this, cross your fingers and wish me some luck. This has been a good outlet though and I recommend it all the time. It has good reads and just blogging I believe is letting alot of those emotions that I hid for a very long time out.
Oh I forgot, I got to get my own place, I am also a burden on my family now. I hate cops, I think NWA got it right.
I didn't use with all this stressful bullshit, so at least I am happy about that. Eventhough my family is kind of giving up on me, because I rather out instead of in. I cant go in because I need to work. I need to work so I don't become homeless. It's just one great fucking circle.
I got to see the most beautiful woman today. I made love to her twice and got to give her head to boot. God we were so sexually frustrated since we weren't allowed to see each other. She told me that she told her ma that she cannot be able away from so long because we are very sexual (I guess you can say that because we have sex almost everyday for 10 years.) So even though I had the shittiest of court dates, I am still happy I got to see her.
I know they are fucking her (the DA) because of my past. She has no record at all (just 1 infraction). My record, you can make a movie with. It's bullshit, I told her family to get a real lawyer and to try her seperate from my loser ass. I can do jail time standing on my head, especially since I wont be in withdrawls this time around. Maybe I can become homie in a prison gang and get my fac tatted.
I just have so much shit going thru my head and I am so alone because she had to leave. I am going to try and get into a program tomorrow and get the job back tomorrow so if anyone sees this, cross your fingers and wish me some luck. This has been a good outlet though and I recommend it all the time. It has good reads and just blogging I believe is letting alot of those emotions that I hid for a very long time out.
Oh I forgot, I got to get my own place, I am also a burden on my family now. I hate cops, I think NWA got it right.
So I guess what we do, what we feel, what we write and experience really means nothing.
I guess its just for us as individuals. Whatever impact, for good or bad, on others doesn't mean a thing.
So life never happened? Its real to me and it has to be for something.
When I die, yeah, I would like to be remembered, preferably in a positive manner.
Its not gonna happen.
My experiences, feelings and actions apparently aren't to be shared.
So its true? I never agreed with the statement 'we live alone' but I guess it is true that we do in fact die alone.
Fuck that! My life MEANS SOMETHING, mother fuckers... we ALL have value... all of this isn't for nothing.
We live, we learn, we die. Hopefully we help others somewhere in that process
I guess its just for us as individuals. Whatever impact, for good or bad, on others doesn't mean a thing.
So life never happened? Its real to me and it has to be for something.
When I die, yeah, I would like to be remembered, preferably in a positive manner.
Its not gonna happen.
My experiences, feelings and actions apparently aren't to be shared.
So its true? I never agreed with the statement 'we live alone' but I guess it is true that we do in fact die alone.
Fuck that! My life MEANS SOMETHING, mother fuckers... we ALL have value... all of this isn't for nothing.
We live, we learn, we die. Hopefully we help others somewhere in that process
Preface: I am currently in New York City, here to attend my daughter's Quincinera (though it will not be in the city).
Now...Since I came to New York on this trip, it has been more or less heavy snow. I love it, I tend to frequent tropical locales and try as you might you cannot cool off. It does NOT help things that I am a person who sweats extra heavily even without my opiate/opioid addiction. In cold weather though you simply pile on layers of clothes. The best thing, in New York, is the streets aren't crowded. This is great for me because I am a magnet for street drama.
If you haven't seen my profile photo I look like I am European, and am usually in the "hood" when I am in New York. The South Bronx is very tame compared to my youth but it still isn't a playground by any measure. An example...Yesterday I was on my way to the methadone clinic (in the US I am forced to enroll for my visits) to pick up my 5 bottles. It was early, I cannot go until after 12PM (12 to 630PM). I decided to go to the library. I walk in, get on the internet (I get tired of using handhelds).
I sit down. Immediately across from me is a kid, 18 or 19 maybe. Standing next to him is his friend, same age. Both are Puerto Rican but speaking in English:
PC Kid: Yo my nigga! Dem bitches aint doing shit! Whoa! Look at dis bitch's tits! Dem shits is sagging yo!
His Friend: Fuck it ma nigga, allz I'm seein' is dat pussy anywayz so what the fuck I care about a bitch's tits!!!?
PC Kid: Yo fa real ma nigga! Yooooooo!
At this point I very calmly and nicely ask them to speak quietly since elderly, women and children are also there. Sensing I am soft because I speak calmly, and appear to be a "whiteboy" they blow me off...
PC Kid (talking to his friend): Yo nigga I know this nigga aint talkin to me! Who da fuck he think he is?
I am not Rambo. I am only 5 foot 8 (in American speak), not particularly muscle bound, but hyper-aggressiveness is bred into me from my decade active service, etc. In the "West Bank" or Gaza you speak calmly and with respect BUT IF it isn't immediately reciprocated you need to immediately establish boundries firmly. In that vein I established my boundries:
Me:Yo motha-fucka you run your mouth to me I'll stomp your young ass in a heartbeat, I aint ya fucken friend, ya feel me?
Safe to say neither one of them expected that response. The people there, including 3 librarians didn't say a fuckem word or even look at them. All that "pussy-pussy/fuck-fuck" talk was taking place and noone had heart to say shit. I would like to think I did it for other people but behavior like that is like nails on the chalkboard to me.
So PC Kid only mumbles now and his froend was trying to grt him to shut up. They go outside. 2 or 3 minutes re-enter and back to the PC. I know not to make rye contact and press his pride, as long as he mumbles I let him get that off. Then an elderly Latino mam enters and sits beside PC Kid. The kids won't curse now but begin talking louder about nonsense. As long as the "pussy-pussy/fuck-fuck" stays gone I'm cool. The old man though? He speaks to PC Kid loudly in Spanish, telling him to calm diwn, no reason to get excited. PC Kid turns, for 2 or 3 seconds eyeballs the old man like he's about to talk wise. I'm thinking I'm just going to have to wax that young ass when PC Kid says , " Yo, you got that pops." Continuing in Spanish he says Latinos have to look out for Latinos," and laughs saying it and eaises his head and looks directly at me thinking I don't understand Spanish. My English is accented but my Spanish is perfect:
"Hoye, quires algo conmigo nene?" (Hey, kid u want something from me?)
He literally said, " Ohhhhhhhh shittttttt!" Hahaha. About 20 seconds later he realised he had me pegged incorrectly and maybe there were other unexpected things.
The old man look at me and said in Spanish, "These kids just have no respect."
I answered matter of factly, in Spanish, "I know sir. I have 7 children and my 4 eldest are older than these 2 kids."
Then PC Kid tried to salvage hus burgeoning manhood: "Yo nigga this nigga really thinking I'm soft" (but not saying it loudly. Then his friend finally decided to say something to me:
"Aint nobody soft here mistah. You thing wrong mistah."
Me: (Contuing to type on the PC) "OK, anything else?"
At this point the main librarian decided to chime in. Even I was suprised when she said, " Take it outside." I would have thought that she would have threatened to have the kids arrested but she sounded like she was encouraging a fight haha. Her 2 clerks then said the same thing, "Take it outside." So the 2 kids told me that when I come out they will "fuck me up." I said, "OK papa, mwaaah" and gave a kiss. I put my Blackberry in my Carhart's inside pocket. Double tied my workboots and tucked the ends inside, zipped my hoodie and Carhart and was outside in about 60 seconds. I expected to throw down but they weren't even in sight. I looked around and what do I see? The 3 librarians and other faces looking with anticipation. I turned to the window where the 3 women librarians had their beady eyes and coughed up some nice phlegm and spit it on the window and scared the shit out of them hahaha.
Treat me nice I treat you nicer, treat me bad and I treat you BADDEST" as the Jewish proverb goes. Co-incidentally that is the library where my Sidekick was stolen precipitating another "situation."
OK, I later thought about it as I walked to the clinic and I was angry with myself. The library is literally 2 blocks from the 40th Police Precinct. If I won, or lost, I would have been jailed either way if those shit heads were under age 18. The fact that both were easily over 6 feet and that they walked with pants around their asses, there is no legal excuse unless they jumped me without my saying a word. Then I can kill them but what I dud was simply stupid.
I went to the clinic. As I wait for my number to be called and pick up my bottles I saw something that cheered me up. A woman walks to the counter where the numbers are handed out and turns ib a bottle of methadone she had just found. I would have bet money no addict would do that. It's akin to a junkie walking up to a dealer to return an extra 2 bags. My momentary cheer dissipated when the junkie who had lost it went to claim it and didn't even thank the girl! Typical in my mind.
So I left, took the subway. After switching trains I am about to take an empty seat when a Latino man tries to literally push me away and take it. I said excuse me calmly and shoulder checked him, knocking him half off his feet and then I sat down.
The "man" turned out to be a rather masculine looking man of about 50 (I am almost 44). He/she turned around 180 degrees (standing) and snered at me nodding his or her head as if to say, "Tsk, tsk, tsk." Stupidly I snarled, "What da fuck you lookin' at?" She kept nodding her head but didn't look at me again. I hate this city.
The thing is, when 1 person is at the center of a dynamic they are usually the defining factor. In other words, if I get into fights often it must be because of how I am. However, I travel the world and the only place that this EVER happens is New York City!
So...my conclusion is that it is having to do with American racism. I look like a white square and tend to be in the "hood." Racism cuts all different angles. Black on white, brown on white, whatever.
I get to leave very soon so it is all good, as long as I step outside of situations.
Now...Since I came to New York on this trip, it has been more or less heavy snow. I love it, I tend to frequent tropical locales and try as you might you cannot cool off. It does NOT help things that I am a person who sweats extra heavily even without my opiate/opioid addiction. In cold weather though you simply pile on layers of clothes. The best thing, in New York, is the streets aren't crowded. This is great for me because I am a magnet for street drama.
If you haven't seen my profile photo I look like I am European, and am usually in the "hood" when I am in New York. The South Bronx is very tame compared to my youth but it still isn't a playground by any measure. An example...Yesterday I was on my way to the methadone clinic (in the US I am forced to enroll for my visits) to pick up my 5 bottles. It was early, I cannot go until after 12PM (12 to 630PM). I decided to go to the library. I walk in, get on the internet (I get tired of using handhelds).
I sit down. Immediately across from me is a kid, 18 or 19 maybe. Standing next to him is his friend, same age. Both are Puerto Rican but speaking in English:
PC Kid: Yo my nigga! Dem bitches aint doing shit! Whoa! Look at dis bitch's tits! Dem shits is sagging yo!
His Friend: Fuck it ma nigga, allz I'm seein' is dat pussy anywayz so what the fuck I care about a bitch's tits!!!?
PC Kid: Yo fa real ma nigga! Yooooooo!
At this point I very calmly and nicely ask them to speak quietly since elderly, women and children are also there. Sensing I am soft because I speak calmly, and appear to be a "whiteboy" they blow me off...
PC Kid (talking to his friend): Yo nigga I know this nigga aint talkin to me! Who da fuck he think he is?
I am not Rambo. I am only 5 foot 8 (in American speak), not particularly muscle bound, but hyper-aggressiveness is bred into me from my decade active service, etc. In the "West Bank" or Gaza you speak calmly and with respect BUT IF it isn't immediately reciprocated you need to immediately establish boundries firmly. In that vein I established my boundries:
Me:Yo motha-fucka you run your mouth to me I'll stomp your young ass in a heartbeat, I aint ya fucken friend, ya feel me?
Safe to say neither one of them expected that response. The people there, including 3 librarians didn't say a fuckem word or even look at them. All that "pussy-pussy/fuck-fuck" talk was taking place and noone had heart to say shit. I would like to think I did it for other people but behavior like that is like nails on the chalkboard to me.
So PC Kid only mumbles now and his froend was trying to grt him to shut up. They go outside. 2 or 3 minutes re-enter and back to the PC. I know not to make rye contact and press his pride, as long as he mumbles I let him get that off. Then an elderly Latino mam enters and sits beside PC Kid. The kids won't curse now but begin talking louder about nonsense. As long as the "pussy-pussy/fuck-fuck" stays gone I'm cool. The old man though? He speaks to PC Kid loudly in Spanish, telling him to calm diwn, no reason to get excited. PC Kid turns, for 2 or 3 seconds eyeballs the old man like he's about to talk wise. I'm thinking I'm just going to have to wax that young ass when PC Kid says , " Yo, you got that pops." Continuing in Spanish he says Latinos have to look out for Latinos," and laughs saying it and eaises his head and looks directly at me thinking I don't understand Spanish. My English is accented but my Spanish is perfect:
"Hoye, quires algo conmigo nene?" (Hey, kid u want something from me?)
He literally said, " Ohhhhhhhh shittttttt!" Hahaha. About 20 seconds later he realised he had me pegged incorrectly and maybe there were other unexpected things.
The old man look at me and said in Spanish, "These kids just have no respect."
I answered matter of factly, in Spanish, "I know sir. I have 7 children and my 4 eldest are older than these 2 kids."
Then PC Kid tried to salvage hus burgeoning manhood: "Yo nigga this nigga really thinking I'm soft" (but not saying it loudly. Then his friend finally decided to say something to me:
"Aint nobody soft here mistah. You thing wrong mistah."
Me: (Contuing to type on the PC) "OK, anything else?"
At this point the main librarian decided to chime in. Even I was suprised when she said, " Take it outside." I would have thought that she would have threatened to have the kids arrested but she sounded like she was encouraging a fight haha. Her 2 clerks then said the same thing, "Take it outside." So the 2 kids told me that when I come out they will "fuck me up." I said, "OK papa, mwaaah" and gave a kiss. I put my Blackberry in my Carhart's inside pocket. Double tied my workboots and tucked the ends inside, zipped my hoodie and Carhart and was outside in about 60 seconds. I expected to throw down but they weren't even in sight. I looked around and what do I see? The 3 librarians and other faces looking with anticipation. I turned to the window where the 3 women librarians had their beady eyes and coughed up some nice phlegm and spit it on the window and scared the shit out of them hahaha.
Treat me nice I treat you nicer, treat me bad and I treat you BADDEST" as the Jewish proverb goes. Co-incidentally that is the library where my Sidekick was stolen precipitating another "situation."
OK, I later thought about it as I walked to the clinic and I was angry with myself. The library is literally 2 blocks from the 40th Police Precinct. If I won, or lost, I would have been jailed either way if those shit heads were under age 18. The fact that both were easily over 6 feet and that they walked with pants around their asses, there is no legal excuse unless they jumped me without my saying a word. Then I can kill them but what I dud was simply stupid.
I went to the clinic. As I wait for my number to be called and pick up my bottles I saw something that cheered me up. A woman walks to the counter where the numbers are handed out and turns ib a bottle of methadone she had just found. I would have bet money no addict would do that. It's akin to a junkie walking up to a dealer to return an extra 2 bags. My momentary cheer dissipated when the junkie who had lost it went to claim it and didn't even thank the girl! Typical in my mind.
So I left, took the subway. After switching trains I am about to take an empty seat when a Latino man tries to literally push me away and take it. I said excuse me calmly and shoulder checked him, knocking him half off his feet and then I sat down.
The "man" turned out to be a rather masculine looking man of about 50 (I am almost 44). He/she turned around 180 degrees (standing) and snered at me nodding his or her head as if to say, "Tsk, tsk, tsk." Stupidly I snarled, "What da fuck you lookin' at?" She kept nodding her head but didn't look at me again. I hate this city.
The thing is, when 1 person is at the center of a dynamic they are usually the defining factor. In other words, if I get into fights often it must be because of how I am. However, I travel the world and the only place that this EVER happens is New York City!
So...my conclusion is that it is having to do with American racism. I look like a white square and tend to be in the "hood." Racism cuts all different angles. Black on white, brown on white, whatever.
I get to leave very soon so it is all good, as long as I step outside of situations.
Alldaykk
amanda_eats_pandas
Bomboclat
DexterMeth
fizzle
Fractals
Matt58
Roose
Scubagirl200
SmilingEyes
Socalthizzn
Thcmike
tweakyb
Ugly
amanda_eats_pandas
Bomboclat
DexterMeth
fizzle
Fractals
Matt58
Roose
Scubagirl200
SmilingEyes
Socalthizzn
Thcmike
tweakyb
Ugly
I remember it was about 10 years ago. We hanged out a bunch already, but I think I finally got you to notice me more. You went with me to that party, I think in IB. You gave me your sack, and I smoked it all, but you didn't mind. You dropped me off that night and I kissed you for the first time. I will always remember, because was just oing to go, but something clicked in my head. I turned around and I asked, would you mind if I kiss you? Of course you said yes. We made love the next day for over an hour or 2. I will always remember, always. I loved you than, but I couldn't tell you that, would have been uncool. So I wantt you to know, I have always loved you. Even that night I asked to kiss you. I fall in love easy, its got me into trouble before, but what can you expect from a Cancer (and baby, I am all Cancer, right in the heart). What I mean by that is I am born in the middle of the Cancer month.
I've been busy lately, my daughter has a lot of school stuff going on.
And I've been able to be a part of it. I've never seen her this happy, it makes me smile so hard my face hurts.
I haven't used once since my last post.
Right now I can't say it will last, but for now, I'm meth free.
Meetings have been going great. It's good to let everything out in the open with people who have actually been down the same road. It's too hard to talk to my boyfriend about it. He's never faced addiction.
Just a short update, gotta finish making dinner and help my angel with her homework.
And I've been able to be a part of it. I've never seen her this happy, it makes me smile so hard my face hurts.
I haven't used once since my last post.
Right now I can't say it will last, but for now, I'm meth free.
Meetings have been going great. It's good to let everything out in the open with people who have actually been down the same road. It's too hard to talk to my boyfriend about it. He's never faced addiction.
Just a short update, gotta finish making dinner and help my angel with her homework.
Well, I got back from my daily NA meeting, and they had questions about the "steps" today. It was something about being tolerant to the spiritual/ religion aspect of the steps. I had to pass, because I have some fucked up views.
Is therea god? I don't know and I really don't give a shit. If there is, he/she is one fucked up being. I have a lot of experience with death, and it seems like it happends to the best people.
Take Jeff. Jeff was a good friend of mine when we were 14-16. He would have been a good friend now but god had other plans. This guy wasn't a punk like me in no way. He did good in school, loved life and was a prime example of the good child.
Well god's plans said FUCK YOU to him and gasve him leukemia. This happends quiet a lot. He battled for the years I knew him. He got better, was out of the hospital and than..... BAMMMM. It came back and killed him. I love you brother.
Take Chris. Chris wasn't such a saint, but he was a good kid. He never harmed anyone, shit he helped everyone he could. We would party and have fun, if someone was gettign too violent, he stop it. Well god's plans didn't include in chris turning 18. He got hit by a car. Love you brother.
These are just 2 examplrs. I got more, but I am starting to cry.
So is there a god? If there is a god, he can go FUCK him/herself!!!!!
I dont mean to bash anyone elses views. I am just very bitter.
Is therea god? I don't know and I really don't give a shit. If there is, he/she is one fucked up being. I have a lot of experience with death, and it seems like it happends to the best people.
Take Jeff. Jeff was a good friend of mine when we were 14-16. He would have been a good friend now but god had other plans. This guy wasn't a punk like me in no way. He did good in school, loved life and was a prime example of the good child.
Well god's plans said FUCK YOU to him and gasve him leukemia. This happends quiet a lot. He battled for the years I knew him. He got better, was out of the hospital and than..... BAMMMM. It came back and killed him. I love you brother.
Take Chris. Chris wasn't such a saint, but he was a good kid. He never harmed anyone, shit he helped everyone he could. We would party and have fun, if someone was gettign too violent, he stop it. Well god's plans didn't include in chris turning 18. He got hit by a car. Love you brother.
These are just 2 examplrs. I got more, but I am starting to cry.
So is there a god? If there is a god, he can go FUCK him/herself!!!!!
I dont mean to bash anyone elses views. I am just very bitter.
I'm concluding another long boring session of wake too early, work too long, stay up too late. It happens four days in a row on a weekly cycle. On the fifth day. I sleep too long, wake too late, do too much, stay up too late, wake too late, do too much, stay up too late, wake too early, do just enough to come home and lay around before staying up too late and repeating. It's endless. It's boring. It's a routine. It's familiar. It's contention if not comfort. It's happiness and distress served gluttonously on one plate.
In time, long distances become shorter, years go by faster, friends become more meaningful - because they're few and far between - and as a whole, you just become either more cynical or more alive... dependent of course upon what day of the week it is.
My ultimate goal is to not look at Monday as the beginning of the week, or Tuesday's conclusion as the end of what's not even half of my week's hours as a civil servant. Wednesday shouldn't just be the dividing point between the better half and the worse half of my week. And Thursday and Friday shouldn't just lead me into the weekend. I want each week to be a new endeavor. I want to live, work, and chillax in a forward thinking environment.
In time, long distances become shorter, years go by faster, friends become more meaningful - because they're few and far between - and as a whole, you just become either more cynical or more alive... dependent of course upon what day of the week it is.
My ultimate goal is to not look at Monday as the beginning of the week, or Tuesday's conclusion as the end of what's not even half of my week's hours as a civil servant. Wednesday shouldn't just be the dividing point between the better half and the worse half of my week. And Thursday and Friday shouldn't just lead me into the weekend. I want each week to be a new endeavor. I want to live, work, and chillax in a forward thinking environment.
SO I like to listen to music a lot, but the thing is, I cannot find too much music form this decade or century that I really like. I mean there are some good shit that sounds alright to me, but I think they have a 90s sound. Ever since that bitch spears started in late 90s early 2000s shit has been going downhill. Oh well, I am just going to listen to some butthole surfers and not do drugs.
Anything I want in life:
Oh how I wish
that you'd come to me.
I crave your presence,
I need your guidance.
Please.
Please, set me free.
You would make me so happy,
You would relieve my stress,
I would be so comfortable,
and my life would be a success.
It's been too long.
I've wanted you for so long,
but you're always gone.
I don't understand,
Why have you stayed away from me?
I thought if I waited,
I thought if I wanted you enough...
I've been fucking patient
and I've waited long enough.
But you don't come to patience, do you?
You don't care if I want you, huh?
I have to make you come to me.
And it's only a matter of time until I figure you out.
That's how I'm feeling. How are you feeling right now? :]
Oh how I wish
that you'd come to me.
I crave your presence,
I need your guidance.
Please.
Please, set me free.
You would make me so happy,
You would relieve my stress,
I would be so comfortable,
and my life would be a success.
It's been too long.
I've wanted you for so long,
but you're always gone.
I don't understand,
Why have you stayed away from me?
I thought if I waited,
I thought if I wanted you enough...
I've been fucking patient
and I've waited long enough.
But you don't come to patience, do you?
You don't care if I want you, huh?
I have to make you come to me.
And it's only a matter of time until I figure you out.
That's how I'm feeling. How are you feeling right now? :]
OMG so much has changed. I graduated college with a B.A. in psychology and a B. A. on sociology. I waited tables for awhile at a new restaurant which sucked hardcore but I made it through it.
Now, I'm a Shelter Advocate at a local women's shelter. I work with mostly domestic assault and homeless women and children. I go in the office everyday at 4 (and every other weekend) just as all the day people are leaving. They work with the people that live at the shelter as well as those that live in pour transitional housing. We also have a office that works directly with people that need help and does outreach so that people know we are available. So basically I'm all alone, other that whatever women or children we have living there at the time.
Its my job to handle any problems (community living for women; DRAMA), make sure they have food and other needs, counsel them about their assault and help them make goals to move forward, make sure the shelter is cleaned and cared for, DOCUMENT EVERYTHING (sucks working with grants; if someone comes it and takes medication TWO PAGES of paperwork!!) and answer the Crisis Line.
The Crisis line could be anything. It could be a woman that was just raped and wants someone to go to the hospital with her, it could be someone who is mentally ill and wants so comfort, it could be someone who is suicidal, it could be a woman who was just beaten by her boyfriend and fleeing for her life, or it could be a pervert that wants to tell me how his wife is cheating with other women IN DETAIL.
I never know what work is going to be like. That pervert really messed me up for awhile, cause he could be local. He knew my name and used it often, told me explicit things, knew my schedule that scared me. But after my boss told me that if he acts like that I don't have to take it and I can hang up I've felt better. That was tough.
THEN we got bed bugs! OMG 6 foot tall pile of furniture,carpet, bedding and clothing that had to go to the dump (AND the shelter's X-mas tree!!). Anything that couldn't go (like the resident's clothes when they only have what they have...had to be washed and bedding and towels we had to keep (we work only off grants and DONATIONS), so 200 loads of laundry, including any rugs and curtains...
Then $2,000 that was supposed to be spent to fix our computer database so that we can pull up a file rather than asking a woman to repeat the story they told last night when she was raped to one advocate to another advocate that is working tonight cause she is having trouble with it and the advocate doesn't know the backstory.
I'm new so I NEVER know the back story.
Then we thought someone in the house was high a lot and we couldn't prove it, but they would come in and talk to me and not make ANY sense. Then there was drama, drama, drama. Oh and someone thought they had headlice and everyone had to be check (no one had it, the person that thought they did was told they would be checked and instead of getting checked she just left. WHAT?!?! Its SHAMPOO DUDE!! Crazy!)
Oh and the police showed up on my shift to arrest someone for grand theft auto, but that was a smaller deal than I thought it would.
I tell you what the job is exhausting at times but considering what I'm learning to deal with I'm doing good. Need a little bit more "medication" (I smoke weed instead of taking the klonopin; works better, but lately I've taken some kpins too), which concerns me. Its been 2 months I've been working here and I'm already struggling...
but they all tell me that I'll be a great advocate I just have to be a little more stern and not let the residents in the shelter push me around and manipulate me and learn not to take the Crisis feelings and thoughts home with me.
But like I said, considering I'm doing alright.
I am there as a "Volunteer" (with a "living wage" paid) for 1 year...then I hope I can find another psych job that is suited for me.
I wonder if doing just a therapy job would be better or do I want to do like Human Resources for companies and thing??
Tony and I are doing well. 1.5 years now? idk.
He got his driver's license back (after losing it for 3 year) and is now hanging out at the bar checking ids. He likes the excuse to hang out there anyway and he gets free beer and $12 an hour. Jerk is making as much as I am working 10 -2 3 nights a week. I'm putting in at least 32 hours a week! I hang out there a lot, more than I should really but I have a D.D. so... *shrug*
But things have improved with us. He is very loving and affectionate now that I'm off the Tramadol and I haven't touched it since I quit. I don't want it. I do occasionally take like codeine or hydro but after a friend took off with $45 of my money and never called me back... I might change that. I'm really hurt by it and I don't know what to do about it really.... any advice would be nice...
Also, as I'm growing in work I'm growing as a person. Work doesn't care what I look like so I cut my hair and Tony bleached it and we dyed it pillarbox red (WHAT IS PILLAR BOX?!?!)
I'm inspired in my look by the women in "Marvel" comic books and Amine. I try to mix the two.
I really enjoy it and instead of dragging myself out of bed at the last minute and throwing something on, I plan and I actually PAINT on my makeup and then take picture sometimes.
I'm not TOTALLY happy with this one. This is the character I call "Chaos" (more Marvel Villain than Anime).
Tony says I look like one of the "evil exs" from
"Scott Pilgram Vs. The World"
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scott_Pilgrim_vs._the_World
This one of me is more of the anime meet comic book look...
I think I want to do "Jet", from the "Tank Girl" comics for my next pic.
I'm trying to fine some clothing that works for this look now. HAHA I'm always blended in so much but I'm enjoying sticking out.
I've said "If you don't like me today, try again tomorrow cause I might be a totally different person." Which is true. I've told my fiends (all at least 30) that I'm enjoying try these things and learning what I like and what I want. They just laugh and say they know that already, but I'm just 23 and I will too. (Perhaps I grew out of the BPD!! Its been a long time since I've had any flare ups with that. Tony has been a dream boyfriend working with me there...) I wonder what it means that everyone is older than me. Tony will be turning 32 this month and me 24 the next! Oh well, what is age really?
I the middle of all this I am trying to take care of myself, not really new years resolution but its a good time to kinda do that I guess. Vitamins and trying to switch from 3 2 liters of Mt. Dew a day, to adding a little sparking flavored water. I guess its alright. Its its not caffeine its something else ya know.
Well guys I think that is about it. I know I had been gone so long from BL that I didn't want you to think that I had dropped off the face of the earth or worse.
I'm happy, using any more mood stabilizers or antidepressants. I moderating my drug use well, and taking care of myself. Not to mention I'm working and able to at least take care of myself a bit AND in a healthy and WONDERFUL relationship! I really couldn't ask for more.
Here is to 2011 guys! It will be the best yet!
Now, I'm a Shelter Advocate at a local women's shelter. I work with mostly domestic assault and homeless women and children. I go in the office everyday at 4 (and every other weekend) just as all the day people are leaving. They work with the people that live at the shelter as well as those that live in pour transitional housing. We also have a office that works directly with people that need help and does outreach so that people know we are available. So basically I'm all alone, other that whatever women or children we have living there at the time.
Its my job to handle any problems (community living for women; DRAMA), make sure they have food and other needs, counsel them about their assault and help them make goals to move forward, make sure the shelter is cleaned and cared for, DOCUMENT EVERYTHING (sucks working with grants; if someone comes it and takes medication TWO PAGES of paperwork!!) and answer the Crisis Line.
The Crisis line could be anything. It could be a woman that was just raped and wants someone to go to the hospital with her, it could be someone who is mentally ill and wants so comfort, it could be someone who is suicidal, it could be a woman who was just beaten by her boyfriend and fleeing for her life, or it could be a pervert that wants to tell me how his wife is cheating with other women IN DETAIL.
I never know what work is going to be like. That pervert really messed me up for awhile, cause he could be local. He knew my name and used it often, told me explicit things, knew my schedule that scared me. But after my boss told me that if he acts like that I don't have to take it and I can hang up I've felt better. That was tough.
THEN we got bed bugs! OMG 6 foot tall pile of furniture,carpet, bedding and clothing that had to go to the dump (AND the shelter's X-mas tree!!). Anything that couldn't go (like the resident's clothes when they only have what they have...had to be washed and bedding and towels we had to keep (we work only off grants and DONATIONS), so 200 loads of laundry, including any rugs and curtains...
Then $2,000 that was supposed to be spent to fix our computer database so that we can pull up a file rather than asking a woman to repeat the story they told last night when she was raped to one advocate to another advocate that is working tonight cause she is having trouble with it and the advocate doesn't know the backstory.
I'm new so I NEVER know the back story.
Then we thought someone in the house was high a lot and we couldn't prove it, but they would come in and talk to me and not make ANY sense. Then there was drama, drama, drama. Oh and someone thought they had headlice and everyone had to be check (no one had it, the person that thought they did was told they would be checked and instead of getting checked she just left. WHAT?!?! Its SHAMPOO DUDE!! Crazy!)
Oh and the police showed up on my shift to arrest someone for grand theft auto, but that was a smaller deal than I thought it would.
I tell you what the job is exhausting at times but considering what I'm learning to deal with I'm doing good. Need a little bit more "medication" (I smoke weed instead of taking the klonopin; works better, but lately I've taken some kpins too), which concerns me. Its been 2 months I've been working here and I'm already struggling...
but they all tell me that I'll be a great advocate I just have to be a little more stern and not let the residents in the shelter push me around and manipulate me and learn not to take the Crisis feelings and thoughts home with me.
But like I said, considering I'm doing alright.
I am there as a "Volunteer" (with a "living wage" paid) for 1 year...then I hope I can find another psych job that is suited for me.
I wonder if doing just a therapy job would be better or do I want to do like Human Resources for companies and thing??
Tony and I are doing well. 1.5 years now? idk.
He got his driver's license back (after losing it for 3 year) and is now hanging out at the bar checking ids. He likes the excuse to hang out there anyway and he gets free beer and $12 an hour. Jerk is making as much as I am working 10 -2 3 nights a week. I'm putting in at least 32 hours a week! I hang out there a lot, more than I should really but I have a D.D. so... *shrug*
But things have improved with us. He is very loving and affectionate now that I'm off the Tramadol and I haven't touched it since I quit. I don't want it. I do occasionally take like codeine or hydro but after a friend took off with $45 of my money and never called me back... I might change that. I'm really hurt by it and I don't know what to do about it really.... any advice would be nice...
Also, as I'm growing in work I'm growing as a person. Work doesn't care what I look like so I cut my hair and Tony bleached it and we dyed it pillarbox red (WHAT IS PILLAR BOX?!?!)
I'm inspired in my look by the women in "Marvel" comic books and Amine. I try to mix the two.
I really enjoy it and instead of dragging myself out of bed at the last minute and throwing something on, I plan and I actually PAINT on my makeup and then take picture sometimes.
I'm not TOTALLY happy with this one. This is the character I call "Chaos" (more Marvel Villain than Anime).
Tony says I look like one of the "evil exs" from
"Scott Pilgram Vs. The World"
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scott_Pilgrim_vs._the_World
This one of me is more of the anime meet comic book look...
I think I want to do "Jet", from the "Tank Girl" comics for my next pic.
I'm trying to fine some clothing that works for this look now. HAHA I'm always blended in so much but I'm enjoying sticking out.
I've said "If you don't like me today, try again tomorrow cause I might be a totally different person." Which is true. I've told my fiends (all at least 30) that I'm enjoying try these things and learning what I like and what I want. They just laugh and say they know that already, but I'm just 23 and I will too. (Perhaps I grew out of the BPD!! Its been a long time since I've had any flare ups with that. Tony has been a dream boyfriend working with me there...) I wonder what it means that everyone is older than me. Tony will be turning 32 this month and me 24 the next!
Oh well, what is age really? I the middle of all this I am trying to take care of myself, not really new years resolution but its a good time to kinda do that I guess. Vitamins and trying to switch from 3 2 liters of Mt. Dew a day, to adding a little sparking flavored water. I guess its alright. Its its not caffeine its something else ya know.
Well guys I think that is about it. I know I had been gone so long from BL that I didn't want you to think that I had dropped off the face of the earth or worse.
I'm happy, using any more mood stabilizers or antidepressants. I moderating my drug use well, and taking care of myself. Not to mention I'm working and able to at least take care of myself a bit AND in a healthy and WONDERFUL relationship! I really couldn't ask for more.
Here is to 2011 guys! It will be the best yet!