Blogs

Today is Saturday, October 31st, 2009 and it is now 835 PM here in Brooklyn, NY in the US.

Thursday the 29th saw my Contiuance in that bullshit felony case I fully explained in my preceeding entry/post. I was suprised at how economical the new Bronx County Courthouse is in terms of arhcitecture. The space was highly efficient, with no apparent ostentatiousnness while at the same time incorporating all vital elements (architecture is something I have always been interested in, Art Deco being something of an obsession wit me. Indeed, it is one of the many reasons why I love Phmom Pehn so much).

In NYC, at the close of Initial Arraignment, anyone NOT remaining in custody is given a tiny scrap of paper that has a hate handwritten on it and a marking for the Part (Court Section) for the Continuance.

Following my marking to Part A in the basement, I was 10 minutes early for the 9 AM opening. At 940, with typical American efficiency (cough) a Court Officer posted the Calendar on the outer doors of the Chambers. The Calendar is merely a mimographed paper holding the names and case numbers of each defendant.

Then at nearly 10 AM the inner doors were open and we all rushed in. I met my attorney inside, he having preceeded me as some attornyes with juice spend up to an hour hobknobbing with the prosecution and judge.

He pulled me to side for a quick conference and he said they declined to serve me up to the Grand Jury, making my felong now a misdemeanour. My charge of "posession of a Forged Instrument" could have gotten me 7 years, though the worst case scenario was 4 given NY precedence.

I breathed my first sigh of relief. Then he told me they had offered a buffet of ideas: 5 days Community Service (my first words were "Fuck THEM and fuck THAT"). Next was 2 days Social Services, meaning 2 half days of group counseling. Now I found this one interesting, not knowing WHAT they had intended to counsel me about, NOT using the NYC Transit system? Ergoo, after the requisite, "And fuck that too!" I inquired, "What the hell would that involve anyway." I was told that not even the DAs (prosecuting attorneys) actually knew. Before we could fully confer about the rest of the offers my number was called and up to the front we went.

So the Judge begins asking about Plea Negotiations and the DA begins acting like he's fucken Mother Theresa for having not pushed for indictment until the judge stops him dead in his tracks.

She interrupted him and asked in accusatory fashion just why they had not been willing to offer me a Conditional Discharge. Conditional Discharges are offered to non-violent offenders and simply allow a guilty plea to stand for 1 years from date of conviction. If the subject avoids any further legal contact (at least arrest) the entire infraction AND plea is erased.

If the DA were astute he would note that I am an ex-convict and then in all liklihood the judge would then push for harsher offers as opposed to the converse. However the DA was at most 25, and clearly out of his depth and all he could manage was some mubling before offering me the Conditional Discharge.

So, At 11 AM I left the courthouse feeling somewhat good, but still pissed over the bullshit collar (arrest) as well as the 2800 bill my attorney threw at me. Still, I shouldn't be too salty since IF I had been sentenced to 4 years I would gladly have given 4 times that amount to get out of Sing-Sing (Ossining Prison).

The whole affair caused me a lot of stress, not least of which is my situation back home in the Philippines (collapsing marriage and a large number of business interests and on top of it 8 different insurgencies being fought on my island (Mindanao). 4 years in stir would have really screwed me up.

Although my attorney was always offering up his optimist spiel I could take precious little comfort knowing that this comforting and assuaging of anxiety within his clients was all part of the game.

In more practical terms I have been unable to buy my ticket home not knowing that Thursday's outcome would be.

Firday was spent relaxing, and then this morning, Saturday, I went to the Union Square Farmers' Market on 14th. St. In Manhattan. The Market is an NYC cultural institution on weekends, but especially Saturdays. Farmers from at least 4 states sell everything from Bison and Elk meat to artisinal cheeses and heirloom produce. All of it is homemade and expensive even by NYC standards which happen to be literally the most expensive in the nation.


There are rare bargains, such as apples, Winsaps and Coutlands taste like actual candy apples and so juicy that they squirt like cherry tomatoes. As a Botanist I especially adore all the heirloom produce.

I filled up my 500 byte memoury card with photos which I love to send to the Philippines due to its maddening lack of variety in produce, or for that matter any foodstuff. People cannot believe purple carrots or white peppers exist. I get a kick out of seeing them go ga-ga.

I had intended, last year, to start an heirloom produce operation on some of our land in Prosperidad (provincial capital) but then came my US trip. Hell, I still have to stock my goat operation having bult 3 outbuildings and a nipa (thatched grass/palm house) on the parcel.

I will follow with another entry shortly.
Each day, people wake up and do all kinds of things with their time. Some go to work in an office and file paperwork. Others troubleshoot networking issues for their companies. I sell supplies to builders and decorators. I manage people that sell items to the same customers. I open doors, wipe off tables, make schedules, hang signs, even build things in my store. This last bit I love the most.

My company is basically like a small hardware store with a massive lumber and building supplies yard behind. I spend 99% of my time in the showroom. I know that what I'm doing isn't that important. But, basically, I get to build displays from scratch for many items on our showroom. On days when I get to build stuff, my job does not suck. In fact, I enjoy it.

Building, creating: these are things that are important in life. One might only spend a small time creating something that is greater than the sum of its parts and understand this idea. When you tap into it, be active in creating, you feel the satisfaction it produces. In a way it feels similarly satisfying to exercise. You just don't feel as good about life if you don't exercise. The same, I feel, could be said about invention, expression, and creating purpose out of one's actions.

It's important to enjoy or take pride in one's work. Otherwise it's all about the money and that's really no good to anyone. Why do anything if you don't love it? I know that's hasty and naive but you only get one life. How can you spend it laboring aimlessly just to score enough dough to scrape by unhappily? You'd have to have a family that you really need the job for money to provide them the things they need.

Maybe I shouldn't look at it that way. I guess anyone could get a job doing anything and find a way to love it. I suppose someone could find joy frying fish, carrying out the grease every night, hosing down the kitchen. Some people could probably. I couldn't. I guess I got lucky with my current job.

There are little to no real responsibilities to attend to other than my asshole employees who call in sick once a week at least. No, I don't enjoy them. But I also don't focus on them. Lucky again, I really don't mix personal and professional lives.

Enough ranting...

The days are definitely getting longer. The weather is much more tolerable than the previous month or so. No snow has fallen in about a week. The arriving spring is a wonderful feeling. When your bones are tired and rigid from all the cold, just the idea of spring approaching is enough to lighten anyone's spirit.

I am certainly in good spirits today. I must be manic............jk.
I've had really bad nightmares for about the past ten years or so. The ones that leave you sweating and shaking like you five years old again wishing you had a damn night-light. Too scared to get the hell out of bed to go turn the light on or simply roll over and go back to sleep so instead you sit there and watch the shadows waiting..for who knows what.

The past year though they've gotten worse, I don't know if this is a real term or not but night terrors seem to fit my dreams better now. I've already scared the hell out of people by screaming in my sleep. They have become so much more vivid/real, without me taking anything to help that.

I woke up from a dream the other night crying and in my dream there was someone holding my shoulders (yes I know it was most likely because I was tense) but my shoulders ached for the rest of the day and no I didn't check to see if there were marks. Honestly I was to scared that if there were I wouldn't ever be able to sleep again. I know it was only being upset and tense but I was so fucked up by the events of the dream that I went to run out of the room, getting my foot stuck in my backpack and falling on my ass. Than not being able to find the light switch and open the door. This all happened at 3 AM and I was shocked that I didn't wake up the whole house, thankfully they all snore.

That dream was at least not the same as they usually are. Still, I have never gone running out of a room for any dream I've ever had before.

For the most part It's a replay of having to watch my late husband while he commits suicide. Almost every night from him getting the drop light to the quiet music playing and his complete stillness.

I hate sleeping...

Just thinking about it I start shaking.

I just want to be held and to be able to hold onto someone...
i find purpose in those birds. they peck and jump on top of the snow with urgency against the pale cold fighting them. sharp, jagged movements. starting then stopping. tiny things i can hold in my hand. the snow is peppered by their increasing numbers as large idle creatures observe through slitted windows.

memories can be devastating.
Hand shakes, can't type no more
Mind shakes, can't think no more
brain shakes, can't live no more

The great creator calls for me
I can't free myself from his grip
This has made me think of you
Feeling this blue and how we ended up
Talk about a major fuck up.

Action not words as the saying goes
but how can I when I don't know where you are?
How can I when you are too far yet so close?
When can I? Will I ever be forgiven?

How much more longer can I go livin'
I feel the end so close
but am I holding on for you?
or for the hopefulness of a life gone wrong to right itself?

I dunno, though my hand's still shakin'
I LOVE my therapist!!!
I can not say this enough!
I went in in a bad place this afternoon!
Her office is in a medical office- which I typically do not do well in.....I put hand sanitizer on my hands at least 15 times in 15 minutes! I was very very anxious and talking to my husband on the phone, who I snapped at b/c I was trippin' out on babies crying and old people sneezing and my husband telling me not to take a Klonopin before therapy.
I thought I was gonna pull my hair out.
So when I got back to her office I was nervous and not happy AT ALL.
When I left, it was a new day!
In therapy I told her about some of my spiritual/intuitive experiences, which I was afraid to tell a therapist about b/c I didn't want them to think I was Coo coo...... She is into that and she started asking me questions about it and then asked me if I have done any energy healing-
I have on other people and I have had it done on me by my mother who was into Reiki a while and got through Level 1 training. So- then she asked if I'd be interested in her doing an energy clearing on me and a grounding. I was happy to have her guide me and it was awesome.
She played the sound of waves and guided me through. I left feeling calm and happy :)
It also thrilled me to no end that she knew her sun, rising and moon sign and is into astrology!!! <3
A therapist who understands that astrology is a tool to better understand yourself- uses the earth and universes energies to heal and who is open to other spiritual experiences is EXACTLY what I needed! YAY THERAPY!!!! =D
ive been doing some research for the past few months regarding tolerance to cannabis.

overall ive documented (or failed to document thehe) a few things about my body in specific and cannabis tolerance.

first, some CHRONology.

went from being a daily cannabis smoker to not smoking cannabis for nine months, then beginning to smoke it on the good old daily again. this affects may experiment a hundredfold.

once a legitimate tolerance built after a few weeks, aka not tripping out when only cannabis is smoked, less of a physical type high, baseline is already a little bit canabinoid - y.

anyways, as the author im 100% sure i understand how stupid of a tolerance to cannabis, mainly a mid-grade crossbreed sativa indica junky poorly treated strain, that my body has created. enough said, good ganja still gets me sky high and provides an enjoyable few hours.

so this being said and me loving cannabis, i have worked some things out with my body.

cannabis synergy that rocks my socks

(cannabis + caffeine) always makes for a stronger body stone, plus a real crative mind high that is helpful with art and listening and enjoying music. nothing super spectacular but great for a cold day when im trying to do art.

(cannabis + multiple strains of cannabis) this is always good. crossing strains, or whatever is sold to you as different buds, most people who sell herb have no clue wtf it is. most common in local areas that i have resided in are sativa dominant strains, which with another good sativa bud, can create a very energetic floaty high. i may have mixed indica strands a few years back when in burke, since that was an indica laden territory, but i have not intentionally mixed two for sure indicas within the time i have know things about ganja.

(cannabis + nndmt) well my friends we have made it past the end of the rainbow, now what. aproximately an 1/2 hour to an hour after vaporizing nndmt I have pretty much always smoked some ganja. my dmt bodyload is magnified by the ganja, and visuals when my eyes are open are slightly noticeable, especially on the computer screen or with bright lights at night. my mind moves with the same paths it had just created with the spirit molecule, but runs back and forth not knowing what to do. id like to write about this synergy more in-depth, especially noting the mental/psychological component.

there are too many more combos with cannabis. one per day will suffice to keep giving them all justice!
Wild in running
an adolescent plastic handed, whimsey....


----=alterius non sit qui suus esse potest=----

"Let no man belong to another that can belong to himself"

An understanding, we that claim to be slaves of a master, remain as servants and not they whom pretend to service.

a sour fig crushed within teeth, bitter repugnance seeps deeply in hearts of outrage.

we are strong, we are powerful... more righteous then you have us believe.

we are more equal then the weatherman repeats.

i heed warning, we are more able then you fear we could be.

an executive recall...

initiative, reform, recall assholes. =D=D

hahaha
I pretended to be the lead singer in a band to get a girl

I own a 'autographed' photo of Charlie Daniels which bears a fake signature

Tarzan was my childhood hero

I thought it was illegal for males to go into Victoria's Secret

I served Belinda Carlisle Cinnabons
I've had these thoughts hit me rather often lately. They are typically triggered by one thing or another.

When I'm washing my leg in the shower I notice that fat vein running along the top of my foot. When I brush my teeth I see that fucker popping out on the outside of my forearm. The phone rings and its someone from the recent past who is high as shit.

I was at a meeting last night and I wanted to share about how I let these frequent triggers affect me.

There is a little kitchen at the spot where the meeting is and I noticed that this kitchen had the same exact tile floor as I my place in Colorado. For some reason I stared at that fucking floor last night and the image of dried little blood droplets on my Colorado kitchen's floor popped into my head. I had forgotten about those little perfect circles on my floor. I then remembered the dried blood drops on my first apartments kitchen floor when I first moved back to Pennsylvania.

These images were attractive to me. I had forgotten about them.

I wasn't called on to share from the floor but as the meeting was coming to an end, one of the folks in the room grabbed one of those Swiffer WetJets and proceeded to clean the floor in that little kitchen at the meeting.

It was refreshing to see. Yeah, it sounds ridiculous but that floor (all the floors of my past) needn't be a beautifully sad, self-indulgent memory to me.

They are clean now, as am I.

I'm learning that if I keep an open-mind. I can find the answers to my challenges by applying effort and, if that isn't enough, simply observe the occurrences around me.

The answers are there. I just need to be able to see and accept them.

Yeahyeah... I'm writing my first blog ever, so this is just a test....
Not sure what to write yet, but I suppose it will work itself out in time...
Got plenty on my mind, but it just went blank ofcourse.....

Thanks for your leniency, I'll soon be beck with something more interesting;)gollum.jpg

just trying to learn this thing.... hehe
Lately I've been sick. I normally do a lot of running for exercise, but I haven't been able to as much recently. Chronic pneumonia and bronchitis have set me back a bit. Of course with chest infection/illness, we love to drink narcotic cough syrup. So I've been drinking a TON of sizzurp lately as well.

That seems to have broken though. I'm feeling much better and I've got a lot of my physical stamina back. My lungs/breathing feel fine and I'm over my withdrawals. I haven't taken So yesterday, I went running.

I ran at the YMCA on this indoor track that lines above and around the basketball court. Normally I'll run about 2 miles straight, walk a half mile, and run another 1.5 to top it off. Yesterday on my first day back I ran 3 straight miles off the bat. I just didn't get tired really.

After that I went downstairs to cool off and have some water. I was really happy. I came back from being sick for, in effect, three months straight with a very strong running effort. So I went back to the track and ran some more. Two miles later, a total of 60 laps for the day, I was done. I showered and went home.

Yesterday was Valentine's day. So after working out I went to eat with my lady. We had crab legs. They were great and we had an overall great time. As we were leaving dinner, I noticed a slight pain in the arch of my left foot. As we made our way outside onto the cold asphalt parking lot, the pain intensified. By the time we were at the car I knew it. I broke something in my foot.

So I woke up early this morning and headed to the doctor. A few x-rays revealed a fracture in the metatarsal (5th I think). It's a stress fracture. Apparently the force from running with some added body weight broke my damn foot. I'm only 175lbs (5-7lbs over my regular weight). I also sprained my ankle slightly. Basically my left ankle and foot are a swollen, purple-gray mess.

The doctor recommended rest, time, and monitoring. He mentioned the possibility of surgery and I cringed. Finally he asked if I needed anything for the pain. I told him I'd be taking advil and he said that would be fine but to call if the pain increases.

I don't know if you noticed but I declined opiate pain killers from a doctor. He was dangling them in front of my face and I made a willful decision not to grab. That's a big deal for me. I seriously do not want to go through withdrawal's depression again right now. I get depressed from WD even if I take 5 perc-10's over the course of 3 days. It's sad and, more than anything, confusing.

As the day moves on, the pain in my foot steadily increases. Of course I'm not resting it. I'm walking around work (where I do the majority of my bluelighting :\) on concrete floors, popping ibuprofen.

Life is so fucking annoying. You feel like you're making steps forward but those actions often just put you back in situations you wish you weren't.

On the bright side, Valentine's day was a success. My woman has been with me for 4 years to the day now. Maybe we'll get married some day.
Last night was the first night in probably 8 months that I managed to sync up and head out on the town with my old hedonist party friend. The occasion: his cousin from out of town was in for the night, and wanted to party. He was from a tiny little town a few hours north of the city; a couple of hours from the oil patch. Born, raised, and is raising a family less than 30 Km from were he grew up.

I've never believed the whole 'city mouse/country mouse' dichotomy until last night, because quite simply I've never seen someone who has spent their entire life in an exclusively rural setting. The closest were a few people who lived on acreages outside the city as kids, but they still came in to town all the time.

Needless to say, it was interesting. He was a pretty chill guy, although a bit on the Good 'Ol Albertan Boy side of things. He's a heavy drinker, and as the night progressed he got sloppier. Not in an angry way at all, but at times unthoughtful. Racial and homophobic slurs started getting dropped around 1:30, but the way he was saying them sounded more from habit and ignorance than any real malice.

Which led me to think about how the majority of our opinions and personality are a byproduct of social normative pressures rather than any actual thought on any particular subject. The main pressure being against questioning in general; junior high peer pressure writ large across much of society. This guy, who was very friendly to me even though we've never met, likely has never been mentally challenged in his life. I'm not saying that every rural person is like that, nor that every urban person is highly intelligent, urbane, and so forth. But in his case, from how he was talking about his GF, family and friends, questioning the status quo is virtually taboo, and likely to get one ridiculed at best.

But then again, a sample of one makes for poor statistics.
4 Truths 1 Lie

as suggested by the fabulous animal_cookie!!!!!!



Should be fun! :)
I got upset last night over weed. I'm running out of my current bag and soon enough I'll be on the prowl for new nuggets. I made a few feeler calls last night to assess the availability. It's not looking good.

However, if I wanted to go down to my old fallen-out OC dealer and pick up a few 40's or even some methadone, no problem. Even though the last time I saw him I tried to choke the guy; he'd still sell me whatever.

Selling pot in a state like mine really doesn't make a lot of sense. There are such steep penalties for such a harmless drug (not going too deep on that). Just for selling/growing a little, you'll most definitely get a felony charge on your record if you get busted. Even if that charge gets dismissed through court, it'll still be on your criminal record until you get it expunged ($400-1000 depending on severity of charge).

I would know. I still need to do this. My criminal record has already cost me one job opportunity. I even passed the piss test and right at the end HR called and said they were sorry. They couldn't hire me because of the "pending charges." Of course, they were not pending. I had them dismissed through probation & treatment. That all cost over $2000 but...they still want more. All of that for some weed.

I can pay for it all right now too, if I wanted. I have the money. I already filed my taxes and got my return via direct-deposit. It's strange how when you come into a little money you can immediately find ways you should spend it. Then after reality sets in, you find ways to really spend it.

I'm just daydreaming at this point however.

I'm Sitting on the toilet on Sunday morning, shitting, waiting to go upstairs to get ready. I'm going to church today. Not just any church either, a Baptist church. My significant other really enjoys this shit. I don't get it but I hope our differences in spirituality don't end the relationship. But, if anything were going to do it, i'd be it'd be the God stuff.

I just have a problem believing in anything that doesn't exist.
...19 years of ruined valentines days. I'm sick of feeling so much hate towards everyone & everything.
It feels like I'm staring down the barrel of a gun when I'm at this point. I want my fucking face blown off so I don't have to live in this shitty fucking world. No matter what I fucking do I ruin something. Right now I'm on the verge of fucking suicide, nobody would hear me screaming for help....nobody would care.....it's all I fucking deserve. I want to be fucking dead. Love is the biggest load of crap, it doesn't exsist, it's just a strong fucking lust. Nobody stays fucking faithful, men go to strip shows & so do women, they all get hookers, second lovers whatever, it's all the fucking same. Even porn. If you've got someone why the fuck do you need the other things?! I put on weight when I was no longer the girl he was interested in, when he was beating off to porn instead of fucking me. But I don't give a fuck anymore....theres no point to any of this bullshit.
I should just be fucking dead, get it over & done with. I'm gonna cancel my shift tonight & fucking jump off a bridge or something. I have no reason to fucking be here, and nobody would give a fuck if they found me dead, they'd just keep on walking past me.
I got a PM from one of my BL mates, SeceCARD, yesterday - Seans his real name

Sean reminded me of sumthing I often neglect to mention but am grateful for - my higher power
it sure aint an unknown higher power, like the one I believed in wen I went to NA...neither is it the NA rooms, which is the only thing that makes me feel uncomfortably like NA is minorly cult-like: if u worship NA, which so many idiots at my branch told newcomers to (dunno bout worldwide so OD, I aint having a go!), then technically that makes NA an idol...a sign of a cult IMO, but thats not for me to judge as look how it helps some of us
ANYWAY

who is my higher power?
laugh all u want - I'm not ashamed...its Jesus
I grew up in a christian home but thought it BS till I met a friend, Paul

Paul was a heavy P user, like me at my worst
he lived on the streets and owed a gang millions
but oneday he remembered growing up as a boy in a family where his parents were missionaries
he decided to doss down at home for a night as hed run out and was feeling ill wiv wd (wat irks me is ppl saying 'meth has no physical wd' - try being addicted to P...NZ methamphetamine is so strong the hospital sees ODs wen its used via IV; its usually rare to get a baggie under 90% pure here....Paul was vomitting, in agony with cramps and a throbbing head, feverish and itchy)
his parents welcomed him in wiv open arms and he went to his old bed
then he realised he felt well
he saw a book on his bedside table and was drawn to open it - it was a bible, sumthing he had seen many times but he had an urge to read it

that night after reading a page hed randomly opened it at, about how Jesus forgives all we do, he knelt at his bedside and began to pray for the first time ever
he asked Jesus to b his saviour and to help him thru his addiction
then he fell asleep

wen he awoke the next morning he felt great
no wds, no cravings, nothing
he regained his health fast and is now a kind-of guide to me...or hes let Jesus use him as my guide

as for the debt; the gangsters drive past his house occasionally...yet wen he invited one in for a cuppa, the guy said 'I cant hurt u - evry time I drive down here this weird feeling of peace washes over me'

wen I heard his story I was sooooo jealous
I thought IF THERES A GOD WHY DOESNT HE TAKE AWAY MY ADDICTION?
yet privately I was curious to hear his story

he shared it, then suddenly I realised I wanted wat he had
not the lack of addiction (well I'd luv that but....lol) but the serenity in his manner, the peace he seemed to hav...and the ability he had to let go of the past; forget the gangsters cruelty...the smile on his face at the mention of God...the openness to tell such a story to a stranger...
so I asked timidly if I cud pray wiv him if he taught me how - I said 'I want Jesus in me too!'

Paul, Mum, my ex (also called Paul - was luvly till he relapsed on booze/P then abused me severely) and Pauls parents all put a hand on me then they all took turns praying for me
finally Paul nudged me and I began to ask Jesus if hed take me and guide me through my life cos I felt like I was walking blind

It was like I'd taken the best drug ever
I cried tears of joy and relief as I felt a warm embrace round me
I thought that was my ex then I looked up and saw no one near me anymore...God had hugged me!
and Jesus was in my heart - I could feel the diffrence - it was like I had bn carrying a bag of heavy burdens and now I felt light and radiant
evry time I fuck up and ask for forgiveness again I feel that same relief

I'm not here to convert anyone - up to u if u want a friend in Jesus
I'm not his best disciple I'll admit - I skip church often esp wen I'm sick and fatigued from the hep C
I forget to read my bible till I'm practically dying to connect wiv him
its like any friendship - it shud b a 2-way-street
wat I luv bout Jesus tho is he doesnt condemn - some christians do (humans r fallible)...but not Jesus himself
he forgives me before I even ask for forgiveness

unlike Paul my addiction wasnt removed by Jesus
instead I'm more in control of my use
oneday in due time I'll give up
and he'll b who I turn to wen I'm frightened

so many BLers I hav prayed for and those prayers hav bn answered
I respect that Keira doesnt believe in him but I pray she does often, as there is a church in Auckland for the gay/lesbian/bisexual/transgender community and God is already working miracles in her life, slowly but surely

I'm no conventional 'christian', being bi wiv a transgendered gf - a sin depending how u read the bible - but I'm blessed; I believe God chose her for me
I'm also a meth addict who still enjoys the odd pill or line of blow, and I luv my ganja
I'll answer to God for all that
no one else

so...DWs a bible basher
many hate us (?)
but its luvly having Sean to PM - that guy is one of Gods tools, and God has blessed him for the changes hes made to his life
on Feb 3rd he was 2yrs clean - doubt he even craves crack wiv the life he has now
God bless u Sean <3

so now u all know who MY higher power is
I often feel my calling from God has bn to help others
I admit I havnt bn on TDS lately as some of it got me down last time I visited
now I hope to help a little by ppl reading my blog, esp entries from old private diaries I've kept, to see that theres hope even for those whove bn gutter junkies

I dont care if u laugh or tease me for praising God - I almost expect it
I almost hope a fellow BLer will say 'hey I'm into God too' though
I know Sean and I arent the only ones for a fact
and if u dont know how to pray/feel silly praying but hav sumthing u want prayer over, PM me and its between u, me and the Big Guy, ok! ;)
this is really one of my 2 'NA' diaries
NA helped me get clean that yr but once I learnt some shocking things going on behind the scenes at Aucklands NA community (bitchery, cliques, sponsors sharing sponsees trusted secrets wiv each utha....) then wen I was told I cudnt talk wen I returned, as 'methadones a psychoactive - u might as well b on heroin' and was treated like ppl wud catch my relapse - and MMT - off me, I left, realising one can get clean wivout NA...the support was nice but if it aint there...

I hav fond memories of NA tho
and they r captured in this diary and another one

17/2/08 - P Kills; Will It Kill Laura?
Laura's hit that point in her life where using is slowly killing her. She came up to Auckland for an operation on an ovarian cyst. That went well and the next day she went back to her mum's house to recover. Then she got sick. She was chucking up green bile, she had itchy skin and a fever. So she went back to the hospital and they did blood tests on her and found out she was in renal failure. She's on a drug for her polycystic ovaries that dehydrates you. As well as meth.
Apparently the doctor noticed the sores on her skin and asked if she was using meth.
She admitted to it and he said mixing the drugs could eventually kill her.
It took a week in the ICU to stabilise her kidneys, and she went through P withdrawal for the first time, so not only was she sick she was mildly psychotic.
Yet when she came by on her way back to Masterton, she was back on the pipe, skiting on about all the morphine and Valium she'd been given. She smoked P periodically throughout the day - she looked so pale and sick with dark circles under her eyes; I was so worried. Is that what I looked like?
It sounds like her mum's catching on though - she told Laura she wasn't allowed to visit May, which she'd planned on doing, since 'poor May' can't find any meth on the island.
Apparently she gave her daughter a talk about the dangers of methamphetamine and reminded her how close to death I came and how fucked up May's become.
Ultimately we had a good time though, if I could just ignore the tantalising pipe.
We went to the movies and talked all night.
Today I met my puppy. Ozzy is actually eight weeks old and ready to come home with me next Saturday. It was an easy choice - he's the quietest male of the litter, and the cuddliest.
His nature is much like Lola's - I'm sure Lola will enjoy his company.
At the meeting tonight, Lucy brought her Papillon, Bruiser. Oneday I'll bring Ozzy!

NB - Firstly, some of these names cud b aliases
- Laura is my, now clean, oldest friend
- Auckland is the city I live in and hate dearly
- Masterton is a small town down near the botton of the North Island, a 7hr drive from Auckland, where Laura used to live; she was the physiotherapist at the hospital there
- May is Laura's cousin, my mate, a chronic addict and attention-seeker, destined, sadly, for the cells
- 'the island' is Waiheke Island, an island thats part of Auckland but semi-rural/hippie; May's mum lives there so she used to stay there sumtimes before she became too addicted to part with the gang supplying her for a day...
- 'my puppy' was a treat I got for going 9mnths clean; mum and dad had a rottie called Zeus wen I was a baby and he guarded me all day as a baby cos I had severe asthma and we lived in the wops...Zeus knew long before I'd hav an attack and run to my olds barking...and of course I always wanted another rottweiler after him!
- Ozzy was the name I chose for my pup before I even met him (I luv Ozzy Osbourne) and he lived up to the name! sadly he lived a short life due to a hereditary condition...RIP OZZY
- Lola's Mum's old pitbull; she has a bit of lab and bulldog in her too but 7/8 pittie basically...she luvs evryone, even Ozzy who jumped all over her arthritic hips
- Lucy was my sponsor; we seemed to hav evrything in common...she had a horse and was a vet nurse, but she had the 'holier than thou' Auckland NA attitude I loathe too...I knew wen I told her I was back but on MMT I'd never hear from her again or go riding wiv her again and I was right
Reading over this diary of the first yr I got into methamphetamine, boy did I think:
- I was hot shit
- Meth was totally harmless
You could say I was a bit naive, you could even say I deserve what's happened to my life since!

This entry is almost embarrassing so laugh all you want - I did when I first read it, then I saw how tragic it was!
Bear in mind, I had been smoking meth for a couple of months at this point and I was relatively 'okay':
-no constant shadow ppl
-no criminal record
-no addictions (tho I was psychologically hooked)
-no false tubes going from a kidney to my bladder so I can pee
-no hep C
-no sunken eyes and cheeks/missing or rotten teeth/hair falling out/trackmarks/cracked lips/sores in mouth/eczema-like rashes/fluid on lungs/dry skin
-MRI showed a normal brain, not one with enlarged ventricles/holes showing extreme lack of dopamine
-no damage to vital organs
-always a healthy weight
I could go on but what's the point? What's done is done.
I just wish methamphetamine had been on documentaries on TV, we'd learned about how serious it was in school, and it was a Class A drug back then (now it fills all those categories)...but I have to face it - methamphetamine was basically nearly unheard of when I started. If only I'd listened to my overseas friends on the net who'd already encountered methamphetamine in their countries, and knew plenty about how bad it was! Still, I have to stop trying to turn back time - no use in that. Can only move forward...and I plan to. I already am. I certainly am nothing like the P-worshipping teen who wrote the entry below, put it that way!

4/8/99 (Age 15) - CRYSTAL METH IS 'GOD'
Yesterday, Alisha came over in the morning and we shared a smoke, breaking in her new pipe, The Crystal Dragon. Christiana walked in on us in mid-puff and we freaked out, thinking it was Dad! The three of us bummed around, watching movies and smoking P and drinking cans of beer Christi stole off Joanne. Christiana took photos of Alisha and I smoking up and acting spun. In the evening Anand picked us up and we bought some weed to hotbox his car with.
We cruised around with Hema and Sean for awhile. We dragged off some wanker in a Ford and won, then hung out in the Quay St carpark for awhile, hooking up with a bunch of tweakers in a WRX. Then Alisha freaked out again (it always happens when she goes out after smoking the combination of P and weed - such a buzzkill) so we took her to Sky City where her mum was bound to be upstairs glued to the pokies.
After we got rid of Miss Buzzkill, we cruised over to Rahul's, where we smoked P and drank all night. I passed out and Christi poured a bucket of cold water over me so I woke up wet. That or she wanted to see my tits. I wasn't wearing a bra, in hope she'd give my nipples a nibble.
I got home at 4.00am this morning, dripping wet, with Christi and Hema in tow (God I hope Christi's not into Hema now) - we crashed in my room (I got into my PJs) and woke up later (well Christiana and Hema woke me up talking) so I was grumpy as fuck. Still...Crystal Meth is GOD!!! I don't get what all the fuss is about when I tell people online, from America and shit, that I smoke it. They act like it's like heroin or something! Jeez, it's only like speed but better. A Class B drug - big deal! Hasn't done any harm to me. I think it helps me.
I have a rotten hangover/crash/comedown/whatever-you-want-to-call-it.
It's wearing off now but I'm still not 100%. I ached all over this morning and I still feel sick. It was tempting to cure it with a smoke! I have plenty of P left.
I was meant to be at a Pony Club working bee this morning but no fucking way, mate! I was only just able to haul myself up, eat and plonk myself in front of Final Destination with Christiana and Hema, who rang in sick for work.
I cancelled my riding lesson too - you can hardly not attend a working bee then cruise over later and have a lesson. Damn, Bobby could do with some work on his dressage, and I like Caroline - she's such a bogan. Bet she'd like crystal meth (if she's heard of it)! She always explains how to get Bob to work on the bit so I actually understand what to do. Until she goes away and it's just me and Bob, who pulls like a train and can't stand flatwork, unless there are jumps in-between. I can understand how he feels. Still he's a young, gangly horse who's got a hard mouth from pulling a sulky before he stopped harness-racing. He doesn't disunite at the canter anymore, pace or refuse to bend on a 20-metre circle, but he needs heaps more work at dressage before we move up to training level. Pity, because he'd ace the jumping - fuck I'd be using at least a Dutch gag though, or we'd be travelling too fast cross-country, for the height and width of those jumps, especially the combination jumps. As it is, we're always out-of-control in his eggbutt snaffle - I just hold on as he tears around at top speed, aiming him at the right jumps. We can get away with that at pre-training level. Not training. Maybe I can't do it with him - I'm too small for him, and I've never trained a horse to do eventing before, especially not a standardbred. A young standardbred. I'd be better with a horse like that Arab, Lyric, who's up for sale, from Edward Bullock's yard. An old, small schoolmaster with eventing experience! I love Bobby, but that Arab is going for a decent price, and he's more the kind of horse I need. So he's old - Arabs can live into their thirties. So Arabs are known to be difficult - so are stallions, and look at Rio! Note to self - put up a reasonable argument as to why Mum should buy me Lyric!
Anyway, got off-track, as I do. Back to the state Christi, Hema and I were in earlier, before they left later (and Christi didn't even kiss me - doubt she's told Hema she's bi; maybe she's ashamed and that hurts a bit), I came to the conclusion that while, yes, I love crystal meth, don't get me wrong...in fact whoever invented the stuff has made me so so happy. All I hate are the 'next-day' effects.
I should try smoking everyday for a week - maybe that'd keep me awake and the comedown wouldn't be so bad?
Can't wait till school starts again and Kate's going to be there every day again...with more meth!

(NB - firstly, some of these names may be aliases)
- Alisha was just a friend (who tended to do everything I did, whether she could handle it or not) who ended up later becoming, first, a fav drug buddy wen I was living down the road from her and we were both P addicts, then later, she became my gf (we broke up when she decided to get clean)
- Christiana was my gf at the time
- Joanne is Christi's much older half-sister
- Anand was a friend of mine when I was going through my 'boy-racer' phase...he was in a car gang, drove a souped-up Japanese car with an expensive sound system; he made money selling hot car parts/sound systems for cars (all hot)...last I heard of him he got busted for this and is still inside
- Hema worked with Christi at Burger King and hung out with us heaps
- Sean also worked at BK and liked the P, once introduced (by us of course...)
- Rahul was another member of the car gang Anand was in, also involved in theft/dealing stolen car parts/subs, etc
- Bobby was my eventer/Pony Club mount at the time...he tried, but he needed someone with more experience to train him at dressage, as he had just finished a career in harness-racing
- Caroline was an older member of Mangere Pony Club, where I went back then (was later kicked out for talking about drugs out loud...); she gave private lessons if we paid her, and her horse was part-standardbred so she knew about their difficulties when it comes to training under saddle; I felt she was the perfect teacher for Bobby and I
- Lyric was a horse up for sale and there was an ad for him pinned to the message board at our Pony Club...he ended up being my next horse after Bobby!
- Edward Bullock is a professional show-jumper who often takes on other peoples horses, trains them to work harder and sells them off for a profit, along with the horses he breeds himself
- Rio was my cousin Lance's top reining stallion, a paint horse who was well-known in the western horse breeding community, a gentle horse for a stallion, and the sire of one of my current horses, Apache...he died getting his foot stuck in a deer fence; he panicked, broke his leg and Lance shot him
- Kate was the chick who introduced me to P...and many other drugs; her dad was a dealer of many drugs and she was my dealer while at school; I totally idolised her...shes now dead, due to an H OD...
damn I haven't been on here in ages. Too paranoid I guess using library and work computers. Life is good i am going back to cali, but I'll be back in NM after too long. It'll be good to see all my peoples. My best friend just had a baby in SF so I'll be swingin up thata way for a while, then down to LA to work and save up. I'm lookin forward to riding bikes, going to shows in LA, gettin trashed with my friends, takin some peektures, and oh yah sunshine and ocean!!!! NM is fuckin cold as hell, there's been a blizzard the past two days, but I manage. I learned how to snowboard here and let me tell you it is fuckin awesome. I love it. Anyways, probably no one who knows me will read this, but life is good. Over n out! Peace!
I've decided to let you get to know my horses - none of this is done in depth, though I may add to it another time later, if I feel I've left out a particular stat that all should know about the horses - or even worse - if I forgot a horse (there have been a few, so this isn't necessarily done in any sort of chronological order!)

I think of this as a form of creativity - I tend to like making lists, etc, and this is somewhat the same I think! I wish I could add pics - though I hav pics of me riding Apache in TDS and my avatar is of me on Maverick!

I'm an all-rounder with my riding - I prefer English to Western but can do both and have owned horses that only do Western tasks...I've competed in all the English disciplines, plus I do hunting with hounds, and true hunting....shooting game (aided by pig dogs) and bringing the dead deer/pig home draped over my mounts saddle....I also just ride for fun, in paddocks, on the road, through forest/native bush, over hill country, and best of all, on the beach...galloping along the sand for miles and letting the horse splash its hooves in the water/have a swim bareback in quiet beaches. Riding rocks! Onto the horses...(NB. 'age' means how old they were wen I owned them; a 'wall-eye' is wen the horse has no pigment in it's eye so it's either blue or pale red in the iris; G=gelding, M=mare, S=stallion, F=filly [mare under 4], C=colt [stallion under 4]; 'used for' refers to wat I did wiv them, not previous owners; PC=Pony Club, CTR= Competitive Trail Riding, TB=thoroughbred, SB=standardbred, RP=riding pony, NZWB=NZ warmblood [warmblood breedXTB], QH=quarter horse, 'Anglo-Arab'=ArabXTB)

GOLD MINT (RIP) - truly crazy but very affectionate
Known as: Minty
Colour: Fleabitten grey, white mane/tail
Height: 15.3hh
Age: 17yo
Sex: G
Breed: TB (Sire - FIRST MINT, Dam - ?)
Used for: PC, mounted games, fun-rides
Forte: Dressage
Personality: Affectionate/loving but nervous/sensitive

OFF BEAT - no oil painting but he sure taught a few snoots that SBs can do it all too
Known as: Bobby
Colour: Red bay, star, sock
Height: 16hh
Age: 8yo
Sex: G
Breed: SB (Sire/Dam - ?)
Used for: PC, eventing, showing, fun-rides
Forte: Cross-country jumping
Personality: Grumpy but willing

BARELLAN LYRIC (RIP) - the most loyal amazing horse there ever was - gave me a bias toward Arabs
Known as: Lyric
Colour: Bay, star, snip, 4 socks
Height: 14.3hh
Age: 19yo
Sex: G
Breed: Arab (Sire - LYRIC SADIQ, Dam - JANDI)
Used for: PC, PC camp, eventing, showing, fun-rides
Forte: Endurance
Personality: Devoted/one-person horse, like another friend really

CRAZY TRAIN - aptly named, but if you could stay on...what a ride
Known as: Scooby
Colour: Chestnut, stripe
Height: 13.2hh
Age: 14yo
Sex: M
Breed: Welsh/Arab/RP (Sire/Dam - ?)
Used for: PC, eventing, showing, show-jumping/six-bar events, endurance, CTR, fun-rides
Forte: CTR
Personality: Stubborn, fiery, lively/spirited, naughty

PL MAVERICK - Mr Versatile - what CANT he do?
Known as: Maverick
Colour: Fleabitten dapple grey, dark grey mane/tail/legs, pink nose, 3 socks
Height: 15.3hh
Age: 10yo
Sex: G
Breed: Arab (Sire - BREMERVALE SHILOH [imp au], Dam - MONA LISA [imp au])
Used for: PC, PC camp, eventing, showing, show-jumping, combined training, hunting, endurance, CTR, droving cattle, beach races, trekking, fun-rides, mounted games, derbies
Forte: Show-jumping
Personality: Spirited, sensitive, willing, bold, smart

CHAMPAGNE DOLLY (imp au) (RIP) - Once a true high-flyer...still is, I hope
Known as: Molly
Colour: Dark bay/brown
Height: 15.2hh
Age: 8yo
Sex: M
Breed: TB (Sire - DANEHILL, Dam - BUBBLES FOR TONIGHT)
Used for: Breeding, light fun-rides
Forte: Show-jumping
Personality: Gentle, friendly, playful

BOLLINGER DC (RIP) - The tiny friend I lost...so like his mother
Known as: Bolly
Colour: Dark brown, big snip covering nose
Height: expected to reach approx 16hh
Age: 3mo
Sex: C
Breed: NZWB (Sire [NZWB] - WASHINGTON DC, Dam [TB] - CHAMPAGNE DOLLY [imp au])
Used for: Pampering, training
Forte: Bred to be a good show-jumper
Personality: Bold, inquisitive, cheeky, playful

KAIMANAWA CASCADE - The kindest pony in the Taupo region
Known as: Cascade
Colour: Fleabitten grey, light grey mane/tail/legs
Height: 14.2hh
Age: 13yo
Sex: M
Breed: Kaimanawa wild horse (Sire/Dam - ?)
Used for: Deer/pig hunting, droving/mustering cattle, gymkhanas, fun-riding
Forte: Game-hunting
Personality: Kind/gentle, stubborn, bold

APACHE STAR - Will genuinely be a star oneday
Known as: Apache
Colour: Bay frame overo pinto, white face, 4 stockings
Height: 15hh
Age: 3yo
Sex: G
Breed: Paint/Kaimanawa wild horse (Sire [Paint] - RIO GRANDE, Dam [Kaimanawa] - KAIMANAWA CASCADE)
Used for: Deer/pig hunting, reining futurities, dressage, droving/mustering cattle, fun-rides
Forte: Reining
Personality: Naughty, playful, bold, friendly

DOUBLE DIP - The most difficult-to-train-with pony I've had..but it paid off, now shes been Show-hunter Of The Year
Known as: DD
Colour: Chocolate brown
Height: expected to reach approx 13.3hh
Age: 3yo
Sex: F
Breed: Connemara/Lipizzaner (Sire [Connemara] - GANTY CHAMP, Dam - ?)
Used for: PC, eventing, show-jumping, fun-rides, show-hunter
Forte: Show-hunter
Personality: Stubborn, quiet/calm, gentle

SILVER KISS - I did not name this pony
Known as: Tosca
Colour: White-grey, few large spots, light-grey mane/tail/legs
Height: 13.2hh
Age: 7yo
Sex: M
Breed: Arab/Appaloosa/Welsh (Sire/Dam - ?)
Used for: PC, eventing, show-jumping, fun-rides, mounted games
Forte: Dressage
Personality: Spooky/sensitive, naughty/cheeky, willing

DOCS CHEEKY LAD - My brother's one-and-only horse, that I ended up riding
Known as: Cheeky
Colour: Light bay, blaze, 2 socks
Height: 15.3hh
Age: 13yo
Sex: G
Breed: QH/TB (Sire [QH] - DOCS FRECKLES OAK, Dam [TB] - CHEEKY LASS)
Used for: Eventing, show-jumping, fun-rides
Forte: Show-jumping
Personality: Friendly, bold, easy-going, keen

SPEIGHTS'N'SODA - Scary memories - at least I learnt to stay on
Known as: Shandy
Colour: Liver chestnut
Height: 13.3hh
Age: 15yo
Sex: G
Breed: Arab/Welsh/QH (Sire/Dam - ?)
Used for: fun-rides, droving cattle
Forte: Stockwork
Personality: Naughty, bold, keen

SHERWOOD BUCKLES (RIP) - I can barely remember my first pony
Known as: Buck
Colour: Taffy chocolate brown
Height: 9.2hh
Age: 22yo
Sex: G
Breed: Shetland/Miniature pony (Sire [Shetland/Mini] - SHERWOOD BUCKAROO, Dam [Shetland/Mini] - CIRCLE K GOLD HONEY)
Used for: fun-rides, showing
Forte: Showing
Personality: Naughty/stubborn/cheeky, friendly, bold

RAINBOW WINKLE - The most long-suffering horse I know
Known as: Dink
Colour: Black leopard-spotted, black legs, white mane/tail
Height: 15hh
Age: 20yo
Sex: G
Breed: Knabstruper/Appaloosa (Sire/Dam - ?)
Used for: PC, eventing, showing, endurance, CTR, dressage, fun-rides
Forte: Dressage
Personality: Gentle, willing, steady

CHOPSTICKS - The closest thing to an equine methhead I've ever owned
Known as: Chopper
Colour: Bay, stripe, 3 stockings
Height: 16.2hh
Age: 16yo
Sex: G
Breed: Anglo-Arab (Sire/Dam - ?)
Used for: Fun-rides, dressage
Forte: Dressage
Personality: Sensitive/spooky, keen, friendly, unpredictable, naughty, high-strung

KAIMANAWA SPIRIT - The first pony I ever broke in and sold for a profit
Known as: Mani
Colour: Bay, blaze, wall-eye (blue), 2 socks
Height: 12.3hh
Age: 3yo
Sex: F
Breed: Kaimanawa wild horse (Sire - ?, Dam - KAIMANAWA GRACEFUL)
Used for: Fun-rides, endurance, CTR, showing
Forte: Showing
Personality: Calm/docile, affectionate, willing, bold

DOCS SPINNIN' LAD (RIP) - My first stallion
Known as: Laddie
Colour: Chestnut
Height: 15.2hh
Age: 25yo
Sex: S
Breed: QH (Sire - DOCS SPINIFEX, Dam - LADY OLENA)
Used for: Fun-rides, cutting, breeding, droving/mustering cattle, show-jumping, showing
Forte: Stockwork
Personality: Keen, bold, spirited, gentle/easy-going, willing, smart, naughty/cheeky

CHEEKY LASS (RIP) - The most beautiful typical 'National Bank' thoroughbred there ever was
Known as: Babe
Colour: Black
Height: 16hh
Age: 23yo
Sex: M
Breed: TB (Sire - BRILLIANT INVADER, Dam - GOLDEN GIRL)
Used for: fun-rides, breeding, showing
Forte: Being a good mother
Personality: Spirited, sensitive/high-strung, friendly, inquisitive, smart, motherly

There are more, won't fit here - maybe I make a sequel!
I had all this shit that I wanted to write, just to get it the fuck out of my head for at least two seconds..

I don't think I was awake for any longer than five minutes before all my now normal bullshit started in again. I went out to smoke on the deck and couldn't stop crying, I was shaking so bad it took my dropping my lighter twice just to try and get the damned thing lit.

Thrown in the back seat of everyones lives, the few people I really thought thought I knew would be there for me can't even be bothered to make a call? Sure, someone I really care about told me that friends are there to lean on each other. So when they won't say more than two words to you, can't talk about whats been bothering them or why they can't....

you know this isn't what i wanted to write, but i can hardly see the screen and these tears are the only thing left to me..


*what if you've been falling for so long you want to hit the bottom and be done with
FINALLY we might be near the end of the battle for my daughter. Not what we initally wanted but its still a good deal.

Hopefully her father agrees to it. I will find out next week. :\ Being hopeful here, hoping he realizes this is a good deal, a GREAT deal.

More about it later I have to get my son to the dollar store before he busts a vein bitching at me LOL :D
We moved in here on November 1st 2009. Nice place, never had troubles.

Then in December our neighbour put a note on the door that read:

"Get rid of your stinky cats or I will kill them and not pay my rent until they are gone".

so we said, "Go ahead and not pay rent not our concearn you have a different landlord than us".

we just let it go after a short talk with him. We told him if he did it again WE WOULD call the police.

Last evening we found a note on the door that read: "This is the home of a stinky pussy all welcome"

so my husband knocked on the door, no answer for like 5 mins. So then he kicks the door loudly and the other nice tenant came to the door and my hubby said "Get *** NOW!"

and the other tenant said come in and get him yourself.

My hubby said no cause then you can get me for trespassing.

Then the guy came to the door, meanwhile i am hearing this all on a cell and running top spead home from Markham Rd & Kingston Rd. (Toronto, Ontario) to Markham & Eglinton in like 2 minutes flat. I come in at the point where he was at the door (both of them). Terry told me that the guy *** threatened him.

So Terry pushed our panic button and Alarm Force dispatched the cops to us.

Cops come. Talked alot, this and that. No arrest but the guy got warned that if he did it again he would be arrested for several things.

Then in the middle of all this I have a panic attack and am flippin out, the short cop is trying to calm me down so EMS don't have to be called and all.

I was > < close to a crisis and EMS and all that. Which I would get "formed" (commited in psychiatric ward) for 72hrs.

So after the cops were gone I took 2 amotryptoline just to settle down then went out to get take out from popeyes chicken.

My music calmed me down more but I could still feel the edge.

So I get home and take 2mg Clonazepam, 20mg Cipralex, 50mg amotrypoline, and 4 Benedryl pills.

Went to bed, was up for 5 more mins and then i passed out like a light until 8:30am.

I am doing good now but when I went to go out today I found ANOTHER note but on his wall, so technically that cant be counted as him harassing us because not even out named were on it, it only read "Evil Lives Here" ------->
And I guess in his drunken state he didn't realize that the note was pointing to the outside door and not ours. So I took a picture of it on both my cell phones JUST IN CASE.

The hall is messy and looks like shit. So later today when my son is home but sleeping, I am going to clean it all up even though its not myu job to I am cause it looks very disgusting.

All that bullshit because he said out cats stink. No my cat sprays because we have 2 male cats but I clean it up asap PLUS I clean the WHOLE house each night which takes me close to 6hrs at times when my son makes a mess, and as little as 2-3hrs when its not too bad. PLUS we bathe the cats, the litter is not by the door anymore I moved it to the walk in closet sinks thingy (it used to be a school where we live) and we have inscents going 24hrs plus febreeze 3-6 times a day and an air freshner outside the door PLUS they will get nutered in 3 months when we can afford to do it for $500 (for both for everything) plus GST and hopefully the HST doesn't kick in by then, which is more ARGH!!!! lol

Oh and the asshole neighbour had the audasity to call me a whore but in subtle ways "Oh now don;t you blink at me wh...." then he stopped before the whole WHORE came out. I never winked at him, he's an old ugly fuck who smelt like booze and dreesed like a fucking bum and lives off of the government (nothing wrong with that but just adding).

So yeah crazy night yesterday. :X

I am alright now though. Got my 2 bite brownies and my pop and i am going to go snuggle with my man until I have to pick up my kid from school in 20mins.

So adios muchachos!

OH! yeah, Terry is filing for divorce from his ex-wife and so we can get married next summer in either James Garden or Edwards Garden. =D

Better go take my lunch time meds, snuggle and relax before I have to go out.

So yeah see you all around when I know more about the medical stuff or anymore crazy business occurs.

Oh yeah he threatened to call the health department on us. We said, "Go head our place is spic and span clean" (litterly cause I JUST cleaned up the night before). So yeah.

If anything else goes crazy im sure I'll write it here.

I'll post the letter pics after I get back hom later and you all can see it. I will add it to THIS post.

See you all around till the next post.

the first letter:



Second letter the cops kept.

Last Letter

We got about three inches around here last night. It was beautiful last night, flakes coming down fast, swirling around in my headlights as I drove around slower-moving cars.

Every time it snows here the first thing I can think to do is go driving around. I'll pack a bowl (or in this case my brand new lil bubbler) and drive around seeing how bad the roads are. They're never that bad around here but that doesn't stop almost everyone with a car from going somewhere.

And for some reason, most of these same people don't have a clue when they're on roads in somewhat bad weather. It's not like we got a couple of feet or something. Most roads were purely slush so there was really little danger. It was basically like driving in rain.

I pass cars quickly left and right. I'm driving around 45-55 mph, bowl in hand, beer in lap. I picked up a couple 22's later on in the night and just drove around smoking and drinking. There's relatively little risk of being pulled over on nights like this. So fuck it, I had fun.

After a few hours of that, I just went home. Up the stairs to my room. Xbox is a lot of fun when you've run out of real entertainment. TV has really lost my interest since football season ended. sportscenter is boring as piss lately. So yea, I just play GTA 4 for a few hours and pass out.

I had a dream that I burned a barn down over night. I didn't even have to take ambien to fall asleep. I guess with the beer, I got sleepy and forgot to take a pill.

I usually get pretty intense dreams when i don't take ambien. I can't really remember now what the context was around burning the barn. I just remember flames and a large red building ablaze in the middle of a cornfield. It seems so significant but I can't relate it to anything.

I woke up fine this morning too. It's not very typical for me to wake up and think, "Hey, I feel pretty good today." In fact it seems like normally these days i'm in withdrawal from something or binging on something else so much that my mornings are usually somewhat depressed or guilt-ridden.

Irony plays its sick fiddle again in my little life. I'm clean & sober (besides pot & alcohol) and i'm not depressed or tweaked or anything. Why can't I manage my drug abuse?

Why have drugs become such an important/devastating part of my life that I include them in basically everything I write? In every conversation I have with people, it feels, we end up speaking at least some about my drug usage.

If it's not one thing it's another. Like everyone in the universe, I want it one way. But it's not. It's the other way; it always is. I pretend I can go through life doing as I please, ignoring consequences. I haven't really been bottomed by this behavior either. Apparently I'll pay for it someday. Wondering when and how is just one of those daily thought processes I'm always delighted to ramble through.
Top