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I was dropping a friend off at a halloween party last night full of people i thought were shunning me for doing H(its been almost 2 year since we really hung out regularly). Anyhow i was leaving and an old highschool friend stood in front of my car and said "park right here, you're coming in to drink". So I come in and crack open a beer, hit the bowl of the best chron ive had in months that was going 'round.
Well to be honest at this point i was expecting to get a mini-intervention for the H; instead a bunch of my oldest friends and some i haven't even known too long at all started saying how much they miss me hanging out and me being there was like old times,we gotta chill more etc..This was totally unexpeted and just what I needed since ive been so depressed lately, Im so pleased to be accepted back into the old crew I felt i had to blog this to anyone who might care. Im really glad to have more than two friends again

That was the advice of my college roommate.

I can't really comment on the matter. I seem to always fall into the French/Irish. Eva better bring home some tan. Otherwise our family will add skin cancer to it's list of genetic weakness

Let's keep the gene pool at least knee deep.

"the doctrine advocating social, political, and all other rights of women equal to those of men."

Seems simple enough. It gets blown out to so much more. Things that hurt the root of what it means. Decent people know better.

I posted in Words. Since it was too long to post as a blog.

Link to Words Post

If anybody has the time and energy to read the entire thing, I would love to hear your thoughts. I am completely amazed by this, like epiphany amazed.

SirButton

Listening to Soma FM. Some Fields of Nephilim is playing. That ended. Now Sky Burial. Music to Slit Your Wrists by.

To recap, I had a vasectomy last Friday. It HURT BAD. After the surgery I was prescribed a bottle of 5/500 Vicodin. The first pill I took while I waited for my gf to pick me up at the hospital -- I was still in pain. I felt like I had been kicked multiple times in the nuts. Throughout the rest of the morning and early afternoon, I followed the directions on the label: 1 pill every 4 hours. 2 pills and 4 hours later wasn't relieving the pain. Taking them as prescribed hadn't helped the pain and certainly didn't have any recreational properties.

Later that afternoon, I took 3 pills at once. An hour later, I took 4.... Due to their high acetaminophen content and the known hepatoxicity of that compound, I started filtering out the acetaminophen: crush the pills in a mortar and pestle, put the powder in a coffee filter, filter with ice water. Then drink the water. Hydrocodone, an opioid agonist, is highly water soluble. Acetamenophen is not. With this cold-filtering method, you get most of the good stuff and not much of the bad. Now I was crushing and filtering 5 pills and drinking the water. Then 10 pills which is where I started feeling a buzz. By Sunday, it was 20 pills at a time.

I ran out of Vicodin 3 days ago, and now I feel nasty. It feels like buzzing pressure at the base of my skull. Very uncomfortable. I wish I had a beer to take the edge off. The prescription is not refillable. As for the surgery, I still have 2 gaping holes on my scrotum -- they didn't give me any stitches. I saw my nuts in there through the large holes when I took off the bandages the other day. Hmmm, it does look like they are starting to close. I can't see my nuts anymore.

My gf is mad at me (again) and says I've been neutered. I think the real reason she is mad is that she secretly planned to trap me into a marriage by getting pregnant. But with the surgery, I ahve taken away that power that she could have wielded over me. Now that I am sterile, I will always be child-free. On the otehr hand, maybe I'm being too suspicious. Maybe she only hoped that I would eventually change my mind and want to give her children.

Listening to Soma FM. Some Fields of Nephilim is playing. That ended. Now Sky Burial. Music to Slit Your Wrists by.

To recap, I had a vasectomy last Friday.
After the surgery I was prescribed a bottle of 5/500 Vicodin. The first pill I took while I waited for my gf to pick me up at the hospital. I followed the directions on the label: 1 pill every 4 hours. 2 pills and 4 hours later, I wasn't feeling anything. Taking them as prescribed hadn't helped the pain and certainly didn't have any recreational properties.

Later that afternoon, I took 3 pills. An hour later, I took 4.... Due to their high acetaminophen content and the known hepatoxicity of that compound, I started filtering out the acetaminophen: crush the pills in a mortar and pestle, put the powder in a coffee filter, filter with ice water. Hydrocodone, an opioid agonist, is highly water soluble. Acetamenophen is not. With this cold-filtering method, you get most of the good stuff and not much of the bad. Then drink the water. Now I was crushing 5 pills and drinking the water. Then 10 pills which is where I started feeling a buzz. Then 20 pills at a time.

I ran out of Vicodin 3 days ago, and now I feel nasty. It feels like buzzing pressure at the base of my skull. Very uncomfortable. I wish I had a beer to take the edge off. The prescription is not refillable. I still have 4 gaping holes on my scrotum -- they didn't give me any stitches. I saw my nuts in there through the large holes when I took off the bandages the other day.

My gf is mad at me (again) and says I've been neutered. I think the real reason she is mad is that she secretly planned to trap me into a marriage by getting pregnant. But with the surgery, I ahve taken away that power that she could have wielded over me. Now that I am sterile, I will always be child-free. On the otehr hand, maybe I'm being too suspicious. Maybe she only hoped that I would eventually change my mind and want to give her children.

My little brother is going back to war.

I hope I can handle this one better than the last..........but I don't think so.
I was more afraid for him to go to Afghanistan than Iraq and now he's going to Afghanistan.
I'm going to try to hold off on my initial freak out until he actually goes. We have some time, so hopefully I will see him before he heads out.

Yes, I am responsible for the obesity problem in the Philadelphia area:

Two Italian Hoagies
Fresh baked 12 inch Italian rolls with olive oil, cooked salami, ham capicola, genoa salami, provolone cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, onions and sweet peppers seasoned with salt, pepper, oregano and parmesan cheese.



Cheesesteak Hoagie
(coming soon - was too busy to take a pic)
Fresh baked 12 inch Italian roll with lettuce, tomato and onions with shredded steak cooked over a low flame with melted American cheese

i smoked marijuana, and it is a really powerful muse... i can:

A) go to bed, get proper sleep, and start a new day all over again, busy till i need a break and then go to bed again

B) drink coffee and stay up all night and work on an awesome project (the marijuana-hedonist-motivated route)

(said project is a game i've been doing on and off for a few years... basically you can esplore ze galaxy and shit)

sometimes marijuana leads to C) insanely increased appreciation of music and sexual pleasure, though this is not mutually exclusive with either A or B

I don't usually get sick. Once every year or few years, I will get sick, and I finally got sick.

Went to a massive, probably drank someones water, probably caught their cold, but I am sick as fuck now. Cold wind and rain when being in a t-shirt doesn't help either.

The only thing that feels nice is my dog cause she is nice and toasty. I am freezing my nips off with 3 jackets and two blankets. She is keeping my toes warm.

A cute bathing suit so I can swim next summer-



Cute Coat, similar to this one:



A Monroe Piercing:

I'm sure I'm not entirely unique, but sometimes it certainly feels that way. I hate my job, I hate the people, everyone is against me, etc.

But I need the money.

I've tried being nice, I've tried being quiet and keeping my head down, but none of that stuff works. I always think I'm going to get fired for something arbitrary just because I have a terrible attitude and my manager is always tattle-telling to his boss about my insubordination. Amidst all of this, I get a raise of nearly 20% just for complaining all the time about how shitty things are and how terrible the communication is, without actually naming any names. This actually made things worse because my manager is sabotaging my work even more; he gives me tasks to do, and then throws other things on top that can be handled by part time workers who he seems to be too afraid to make work hard for fear of them quitting or not liking him. So the end result is that he can accurately say that I didn't get much done, just like the purpose of war in the novel 1984 is to constantly create economic activity without producing any wealth. Basically, to make business happen - in a vacuum.

The guys and I at work have almost nothing in common, which is not a surprise. They gang up on me all the time in ways where there's no way for me to explicitly accuse them of bullying me without sounding like I'm crazy, which works quite well because I got out of rehab about 3 months ago. I'm almost to the point of just walking out. Ironically, this is a place where there's this whole hypocritical "anti-corporate" faggotry going on, and it is only ironic to me because I've worked at "uptight corporate" places before and witnessed the complete opposite of the stereotype, whereas this places is rife with the most base and obvious forms of politics.

I try my best to not sound smart at all, because I see the reactions it brings from everyone except for the owner and second-in-command. I really only give a shit about money, but while I'm still two levels below weaseling my way over my manager's head and into a power position I would at least like to not feel like shooting myself every day - literally, I plan every weekend to commit suicide and I have the gun money set aside. The fatalist in me wants to go on a sociopathic rampage, stepping on all manner of people on my way to the non-existent risk-management position I want to create for myself, and this is a fatalist attitude just because I know what kind of crash and burn it will yield.

Instead, I just play along with the politics because realistically I know that I need to pay the fucking rent and I already know what it's like to bet heavy on a dangerous hand. It's been more than two years now since I lost an incredible amount of money and seen my dreams collapse, and the fucking losses are still carrying forward in the form of tax credits. I can't believe I've relegated myself to not being able to stomp on people who deserve it. Even worse, I hate how petty I've become in that I just want to be flush again so I can cause wanton destruction to other people's careers with the impunity that only comes from not being afraid of getting fired.

It's really only a matter of time before I ignore the consequences and walk out of that place. I've already decided that the way I'll end up quitting when I lose my temper is to leave my cell phone somewhere and just walk out without telling anyone. That way, they have no way of contacting me at all. It's not like I have a life outside of work; I'll wait a few weeks and change my phone number.

Good title for a blog ehh real attention grabber. Anyway My stepdad comes down here to inform me that my parents are fed up with my drug use and will soon be cutting me off I have a 3.0 GPA that I have worked my ass off for but who cares im on drugs. Well fuck them fuck the world I always knew heroin would kill me anyway. I just gotta get 200 miles to Birmingham to put my plan into action. That will be the hardest part. Im committed im not backing out this time they will feel the pain I feel everyday. I hope the cops come to thier door real late at night so its all dramatic. I dont have to many friends so it wont be much of a funeral. Then they can have their peace and god willing I can have mine.

(20 Days Clean Today)

Ever since I was little I indulged in fantasy. I would spend an entire day reading science fiction books and as I got older became heavily involved in role playing games such as Dungeons and Dragons, Traveller and Gangbusters. Shit, I even created my own based on John Norman's Gor series that my friends and I would play.

In my early teens I dug into drugs and eventually fell in love with acid and shrooms.

I embraced everything except for reality.

Now I'm approaching 40 and I am only now accepting reality for what it is. The hard facts and how things REALLY work.

Recently, I was approached by someone for help with her drug problem. She came with me to a couple of meetings and last week she texted stating she was going to check herself into the local State Hospital for rehab. Fuck that filthy place!

I told her to meet me and we went to the organization that placed me into rehab without any insurance or money. She is scheduled to be picked up tomorrow at 11am to go to a real rehab facility (with no money or insurance).

This has got me to thinking...

I have a knack for this kind of thing. People open up to me rather easily. I can morph and fit into basically any environment from the soup kitchen to catered dinners. I'm accepted across racial and economic divides and I have some knowledge on how this real world works.

I believe that I would make a very good Substance Abuse Counselor but now this is where I question my grasp of reality versus fantasy...

Didja ever watch A&E's The Cleaner? It is an exaggerated depiction of a dude named Warren Boyd.

This dude assisted people with getting help with their addictions (sometimes placing himself in dangerous situations to do so). He had a coupla other people working with him.

Is it fantastical for me to want to do something along those lines? Seeking lost souls out in the streets and getting them help?

I dunno. I haven't any children. No wife. No one that really needs me (in a traditional sense). Why not go where people just like me need me?

Who knows? I always had some sort of 'hero fantasy' and always told myself I wanted to die saving someone (pushing a kid out of the way of a moving car and taking the hit instead, taking a bullet for someone in a robbery gone awry, etc.). These scenarios are far from realistic and I definitely believe that it all has to do with my ego and self-centeredness.

Once again, who knows? It would be cool to be like that dude on The Cleaner but I suspect this is just more fantasy that resides in my head.

Just a few days and a year will have passed since I stopped getting high from opioids. It's been a tough period of time. I came back to moments when I stuck a needle into my vein just like that...

It might have lost that magic of blissfulness but it always brought a feeling I don't have to care about anything, it always helped to go ahead instead of doing needless analyses. These drugs were a panacea for so many things. I could just go all the way and shoot an amount that would put me down to nodding and I didn't even think where I am. I could do a smaller amount to get through the day, to be who I am, to extract the better side of me that was detained for the most of the time. It was morphine that really pushed me to people and I got a chance to show them I'm a sociable, outgoing man. It killed the "virus" that blocked me from showing my advantages. I didn't change because of drug use. The other side of me came to voice and helped me gain what I wanted but didn't know how to get through obstacles and get it.

It definitely brought a lot of positives. For a very long period of time I didn't look at negatives as even making money wasn't the problem when I spread my wings and was successful in quite a lot of areas. Nevertheless, the bad news were still to come. I wasn't a simply depressed boy in my early teen years. I got twice diagnosed with BPD. So many things became clear after this. I may have been very depressed during mid-high school but I definitely had moments of full-blown mania when I was already in high school. I did many stupid things because of that. Still, morphine was already at hand. And when there was quite a long shortage, heroin took over. It didn't matter.

How won't I forget those nods during last classes... Wandering around the school or sleeping in various parts of school. I felt so free. Times when part of money I didn't invest and I had for daily use started to be not enough happened quite often at that time but after all I must confess to myself I was a master at getting money not resorting to thefts. I always had a solution. I admired the beauty of world surrounding me, morphine could shift it all from a gray scale to a millions of colors palette. Trains, buses, parks, streets, forests... I'm going to miss that. I already do.

But it seems anyway that my ride is over. I touched hundreds of opioids having acquired practically unlimited access to great lab and I knew how to combine work with curing my illness. Now I can walk by samples of chemicals that could give me instant rush I could also combine with a bit psychedelic and stimulating euphoria. I don't. I sit with my methadone and clonazepam, and if I do happen to want to forget, it's enough. I won't lie to myself that deeply inside I don't want to take an ampule of good old sister, put a needle on a syringe, empty an ampule and just shoot. After all these years I found I'm resistant to any therapy that should end with me thinking "I don't want it anymore". I do want it as hell. I just don't do it anymore because I know how much it would cost me with my personal life.

One bag of Heroin
Four 4mg Dilaudid
One 30mg Morphine IR
Two 60mg Morphine ER
One 5mg Oxycodone

That's why I love debate. I love to see someone burst out with their heart. It's normally the loser, but that doesn't make it less beautiful. As we fail we see the truth and sound our best. It's the swan song.

I remember my loses. I rarely remember my victories. I look carefully when I fail. When I succeed, I gloss over it. As we fail, we get closer to ever fleeting perfection.

You should speak your mind, and when that fails you will learn.

i was gonna post this in TDS. then i thought i could maybe make an SLR version. but with both i knew... i would get the same fucktarded responses. its always darkest before the dawn. there are other fish in the sea.

what the fuck if ive got extreme impatience not to mention what the therapists love to call anxiety/depression. or ADD. fuck em. just like you all. you offer no real advice for the people that repeatedly get FUCKED by life. i hate life on average 2/3 of the time. that means right away i fuckin dont like where i am. and while im going to sleep i hate where i am.

i always look for a friend. people here are FUCKTARDED OMFG. i need a real conversation. like with people that arent stupid as fuck. i find smart , amzing, girls with fucked up issues inside, just like me, they seem nice, i treat them like princesses, then they fuck me. in the back. ive been stabbed before, big fucking deal. but being stabbed emotionally fucking hurts.

fuck you people leaving me behind after promising to be there.

fuck you people who use me up for my kindness

fuck you people who pull rug out from under me

fuck you family who never taught me shit except fear and confusion

fuck you people everywhere, for not ever fucking listening.

fuck you bluelight, especially TDS, for giving same old bullshit responses: excserseize, find a hobby, etc etc. i bench twice my fucking weight. literally nothing interests me. i go out every night- im in college. i party. i look for people. but they all, all,all, all, all ,all are stupid as fuck, hollow, and fuck me. i eat healthy. i have had like 209384708 friends in my life, and they all are hollow in the end. i used to be a normal popular kid who kept the bullshit inside. im done writing it in private in my notebooks in rhyms and bullshit songs

im drunk as fuck. but that only gives me the clarity(bless CNS depressants ) to tell you fuck you all




i go out in real life, i get fucked. post on internet, no responses that arent repetitive repetitive repetitive . when i first joined i hoped this site would provide answers. just as empty as the world. "just give it time" "theres xxxx out there" no mufucker. i been waiting 19 years. always been missing something inside and out. so what the fuck am i to do

I wonder if this is a good idea...

I don't even know why I'm doing this?!?!

I think maybe I'm doing this so I can look at this months later and see what progress I've made, starting with some bulletpoints that describe where I'm at.

*Overly sexual - too yang here.

*Depressive and self defeating - I haven't been trying hard enough, not quite sticking head in sand, but not pushing.

* Not really balanced...

* Starting to embrace yoga as a way of living, with Ayurvedic practices joining me as of today, need to get consistent practice going again - I KNOW 3 times a week felt so good for my mind and body.

* Trying to help myself more than others is a resolution I'm making today - here - right now, FOR NOW.

* I Have become scared of people a lil somehow -I've always been shy, but I've become a lil more scared of seeing people, showing them me in times of hardship, instead of inflicting it on them...how do I feel like I'm not being a downer if I'm going through bad times, and just still somehow be fun to be around??! I don't know or remember.

I'm going to try to stop doing any drugs, until AT LEAST I receive my next payslip, including smoking weed, drinking alcohol, AND doing DMT.

Any drugs I get given I will hoard away for halloween/xmas/NYE - it's time for sober trance dancing Jimmy I feel - to push myself out of comfort zones of needing a smoke or a psychedelic to speed up feeling comfortable on the dancefloor - take it to the next level, Tasha helped you find your dance again after Lucia, now find your next level on your own.

ALso, need to start going to places to dance as much as possible, I've been slacking and it makes me happy.

I need to tell "HER" exactly how I feel again,when I give her her birthday present...which is late.

Which leads me to needing to write that down, as I could easily forget with my stoner memory - oh yes, I want to know if she's been sleeping with other people, and if she has I want to tell her that I don't like the idea of her sleeping with other people.

SHe said it...I need to say it, I'm very much in love with her now.

Today is the start of a trial of sobriety, nothing but yoga, work, art and dance...occasionally with seeing friends at their/my houses - just until I find my balance, and my swing of things...I need that swing, that momentum, the ball needs to start rolling and it CANNOT stop anymore.

See you later boyo...*slaps self in face*