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You wake up each morning and have no idea what day it is.

Just got back from a marathon meeting and I really didn't want to hang and talk to anyone. So of course I got pulled aside by tons of the women in the rooms.
Kinda makes me annoyed when they are right about everything, damn it how can they see these things and I never can?! WTF
They took the time to give me a glimmer of hope, that I hope I don't squish by the end of the night.

Yeah, I haven't posted in a while. Things of note have been happening, but nothing that I'd like to talk about right now. If I have some more time tomorrow I might discuss some actual events.

But, what I would like to talk about is a crazy dream that I had last night. It started off (or at least the part that I can recall did) by entertaining some really old Dutch women, who were supposed to be distant relations, in my Grandmother's house. But for some reason I had two swords, one shorter (and duller) stabbing blade, and a longer kitana-like slicing blade. While I was serving tea and pickled herring.

Then for some reason I stepped outside my Grandmother's old suburban house into the middle of a downtown, where I was being chased by a series of ninja type assailants but who were dressed like East India Company hotshots. An odd dream battle/chase ensued, with scene changes from urban to high-seas to arctic and finally surrendering to a nameless futuristic monarch. At which point I took my stabbing sword and killed the person that brought me in, and then committed seppuku with my other sword. The weird thing was that I could feel the sword going in, but it didn't hurt at all, and I didn't wake up. I could feel time slow as I slid down the sword, feel my life's blood slip out of me, and the cold concrete floor on my cheek as I collapsed.

Then my alarm went off. I'm trying to chalk this dream up as a good thing, as I'm trying to increase my dream recall as a first step toward getting back into lucid dreaming, but the seppuku thing was messed up. And I've been feeling off all day as a result.

So now I'm debating as to whether or not I want to drink before bed so that I won't remember my dreams tonight, or actually try for lucidity. I think that I may have been close last night, but I've been lax with my reality checks. I'll probably just drink.

tonight i wish:

1: i had a 7-8 bag work filled with powder
2: i had never opened my mouth about how i was feeling
3: that my email hadn't fucked up, making me lose all my writing
4: that i was in bed next to..well you know who you are

i'm glad i don't have my blade tonight, i'd be a bloody mess.
by the way i didn't mean those things as trying to control you or anything of that nature, you know who you are and i'm sorry

Hi there everyone! I'm just learning the ropes here, not a big forum fan (but this one seems very easy to navigate and find information on) but I thought I would give this one a try.

I keep a regular "life in the trenches" blog called The Mad White Woman as well as a Blog Design blog called Starlite Web Designs (which I have been sorely neglecting LOL).

Stop by and say "hi" if you want! I won't bite...much!

So, I started out the morning early in order to get out to the Welfare Office to he;p a dude out that had relapsed and came back. I knew him from before and I wanted to give him a hand. His girl had just left and he asked if he could walk with me to stay clean.

Our plan was to go to the Welfare Office, swing by his dentists, drop off a prescription to get filled, pick up his girl who wanted to come home and pick up some job applications.

My alarm clock went off and about 2 minutes later my phone rang. My upstairs neighbor told me she needed to go to the hospital. I left immediately, dropped her off at the hospital for whatever petty symptom she was complaining about. After that I dropped her husband off to Drug Court.

I then picked up the dude had relapsed. Well, we ran all our errands and on the way home shit got fucked up. We went to the pharmacy and he had his girlfriend run in to pick up his prescription. It was taking a while for her to come back out. Dude then said that he was going to the grocery store next door for a second and wanted me to pick him up there after his girl came out of the store.

Ummmmmmm, dude didn't have any money so what does he need at the grocery store? He came back shortly and then went into the pharmacy to see what was taking his girl so long.

Check this part out... I see two police cars pull up to the paharmacy. They walk in but stare at me sitting in the car.

Dude's girl comes out of the pharmacy and he follows. He hops in the car and says 'Go, go, go!'

FUCK THAT!

I stayed exactly where I was. The police came out, asked him to step out of the car and they handcuff him. They go through his girl's pockets and take him around the corner out of site.

To make this short, dude had a prescription for 15 Vicodins. HE FUCKIN' WROTE 35 OVER THE 15 so that he could get 20 more. Stupid motherfucker.

Anyway, everyone in the car was questioned, they checked for warrants and asked me to step out of the car.

The cop was a dickhead to me but I was pretty calm. He said that if dude got in the car that I would be facing charges as well.

I got a lecture on hanging out with drug addicts and the cop is gonna send me a ticket for having a kid in the car without being in a car seat.

I was tryin' to help this dude out and he 'dope-fiended' me. I thought he respected me more than that than to drag me into his drug seeking bullshit.

Fuck him! I was ALWAYS there for him and he fucked me over. He's facing time now (don't know how much). Apparently he was released from prison early last time and is on probation so, now they may add the time that he didn't serve onto this new sentence.

I always thought he acted kinda odd. Most of us do when we start comin' around NA. I should have listened to my instincts.

Lesson learned. The motherfucker disrespected me. He placed my future career as an EMT in danger, he intended to bring drugs in my car and he put me in a spot where I could have gotten locked up for just 'helping out'.

I gotta be more aware and not automatically assume that EVERYONE in NA is looking to recover.

This is probably written poorly but I'm exhausted, a little stressed and betrayed at the moment so... I dunno

After several days of no sleep, little food, and a major relapse on meth, I went into a psychosis last night and had several cop cars show up... apparently they thought I was armed or something. Got handcuffed and taken downtown before being transferred to the emergency department at hospital for an anti-psychotic and some fluids, since I'd gotten so dehydrated. Back home now. I'm not sure if I'll be facing any further charges as I hid everything incriminating when I saw the cops pull up outside. But still, 2 incidents with the cops within one week ain't good.

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly, and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love - for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labours and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. - Max Ehrmann

Awhile back after I crashed my old blazer, my mom got me a Honda Civic that her friend sold her very cheap because she knew about a lot of the shit that I've been going through. Well it's been sitting in the driveway for about two months now because no one has been able to take the time and teach me how to drive a stick shift. Then finally winter break comes and my grandpa says that he will teach me while he is on break. First week goes by...still haven't drove. Then today we start driving finally for the first time, but it's short lived.

Before I can even get a grasp on driving Andrew calls and is coming over so they can put some mud flaps on his car. Fucking wonderful, grandpa reassures me that it will only be a minute then we will drive around because he has to run some errands anyway. While, an hour goes by then he tells me they are going to put some other shit on his truck too so that will take another hour. Then I guess they had the wrong size so they went to exchange it for the right size and got the wrong size again, and now I'm here waiting again for them to get back and still put whatever the fuck it is on his truck.

I'm just pissed off after how Andrew already ruined my Xmas when he caught me "kicking up dirt" then to top if off, he didn't even say thank you for the mud flaps I pitched on that he is currently putting on his truck now (might i add). He knows he is taking from my driving time but don't care.

I was looking at an online headshop earlier this evening and noticed that they sell 60x salvia divinorum. Needless to say, I'm tempted to buy it, even though it will probably end in disaster (last time I tried 15x salvia, without a trip sitter, I ended up wandering into a local forest park, feeling utterly dissociated and freaking out over all the weird visuals I was having).

You'd think I'd try a lower strength version after that mishap, but no. I'm gonna grab the most potent one available! :D

I miss the walks downtown at night. It might have been chilly but I never noticed while all stimmed up and raoring to walk....walk anywhere.....as long as I wasn;t alone.

Now I am alone, walking downtown at 2am, not a wise thing for a woman like me.

I guess that nice lil walk will have to be put on the back burner for now.

I Still miss you.

You can call me psycho and maybe I am, but I am getting help on therapy too....so I guess I can;t be too nuts if I think I am nuts huh? lol

I miss my friend
The one my heart and soul confided in
The one I felt the safest with
The one who knew just what to say to make me laugh again
And let the light back in
I miss my friend

I miss the colors that you brought into my life
Your golden smile, those blue-green eyes
I miss your gentle voice in lonely times like now
Saying it'll be alright

I miss my friend
The one my heart and soul confided in
The one I felt the safest with
The one who knew just what to say to make me laugh again
And let the light back in
I miss my friend

I miss those times
I miss those nights
I even miss the silly fights
The making up
The morning talks
And those late afternoon walks

I miss my friend
The one my heart and soul confided in
The one I felt the safest with

Click to expand...

Dancing under the Stars at the beach with whatever music....or none at all, we could make our own music....watching the stars.... laying back all worn out and coming down from our "high" and just cuddle until the sun comes up.

I need to heel myself before seeking anyone out, I just can;t stop thinking of you.

Not sure if that makes me nornal or psycho and frankly I don;t care.

was gonna add more but nodding off here, maybe I'll edit in the morning.

I over slept this morning, missed breakfast. They served French Toast, and bacon. Man was I fucking pissed when I hauled ass up there and the serving window was closed. Shit sucked! I did mange to get a banana and gobbled that down with a cup of coffee.
The day went on. Group today was on the first 3 steps. Good group, learned a lot about the second and third steps. Since I know the first step backwards and forward. Mostly the whole "higher-power" I needed to learn about, as for sponsor wise I'm still on step numero uno. I've read and re read the Doctors Opinion over and over, and I'm just now starting to understand the whole cravings, and why do I get them.
Group lasted from 7:30am-9:30am with one smoke break at 8:30am, at 9:30am they call roll call, to check who is here and who isn't. It's pretty much the same shit like teachers do, call names and you say "here" when they call your name.
Roll call ended, and we had "Men's Group" at 10:00am. That group sucked because the counselor that was supposed to show up wasn't here. I guess he was still on Vacation or some shit, so from 10:00am to 11:00am we all just sat around, and I couldn't take it anymore so I went to the other building, took a lil smoke break, and went to find something productive to do.
Mr.T "volun'told" me that I'm the new dishwasher, so for breakfast, lunch, and dinner I have to hand wash dish's. Shit fucking sucks, guess I was in the right place at the right time in a way. This looks good on paper. Fucked my time up tho. I gotta get up there at 5am, 11am, and 4pm to wash dishs. They call it OJT means On the Job Training. lol am I destined to be a dishwasher? Lunch wasn't nothing but a hot dog and some chips. Dinner looks good, I've been told we are eating fried pork chops ^.^. Oh yeah also I jacked a Crunch bar from the kitchen manager lol. gotta survive somehow.
A lot of people have relapsed since I've been here. Shits sad when I see so many cool people fuck up. I just pray and gotta keep my shit straight.

I got court in 2 days for a public intox charge I got last month, and I talked to my counselor about it, and he's going to fax over a paper that states I'm in rehab. So that's a burden off of my shoulder.
Bout to go eat some dinner, and wash dish's. Other than that shits straight. Oh yeah also I ran down to CVS and bought some suckers and jolly ranchers, because damn I've been craving sweets like a mofo!
Also my roomate is fucking throwed the fuck off. He's seriously got some fucking problems. I was watching the new Underworld, I thought he was sleeping, and I had a strange feeling of someone standing behind me, and there he was fucking watching fucking eating that caramel popcorn crunch shit, dropping crumbs all over my pillow. Fuck him for now on, I'm watching my shit to my back to the wall.grrr
I'll update later,
Drew

This was a signature on grasscity.com I saw the other day:

"Went to the doctor, and I asked her to make this stop

Got medication, a new addiction, fucking thanks a lot

Had a relapse, went back to rehab, ruins everything

So point you finger at the singer, he's in the pharmacy"

I don't really feel like I can give the whole backstory as to what is going on right now.. but I feel I need to write something...

It's amazing how well I messed shit up in this ONE area and it makes everything seem so worthless.

My brother is doing SO well, I feel even more like a failure.

It seems like I just keep fucking it up worse and worse.

What is the point really? Are we ever going to get what we need to be happy? It's all an endless pursuit of trying to make it well...or in some cases up just make it.

I feel like I'll never make it. That my life is a pointless pursuit. I'm never really going to be happy. So I numb it out with whatever drug I can get for as long as I can. Doubt that helps me any either.

I know I could grab all my benzos and what alcohol is in the house and hope it ends it. But I've been there before. It never does. You always wake up worse than you were before since you are in a hospital and likely on your way to a psych ward.

Nothing fucks shit up worse. Nothing is on hold while they try to unfuck you. Yeah great, my life was fucked up before and now you are keeping me here so it's more fucked up when I have to go back to it. Likely wouldn't have a job.

I've been there. I said never pills again. Although slipping into nothingness sounds so...good.

But I haven't said anything to anyone about all this. Doubt I will. Just hope is passes as it usually does. But that doesn't mean that I don't have to deal with the fact that I fucked up a while major area of my life and it will take maybe even a year to correct.

its 0314 and i'm fucking spun on peevee and posting from a chain coffee shop on soeones wifi.

Life, it doesnt get better,

Yesterday me and Lydia had quite a major disagreement/fight (it was both our faults) and we decided to call off the engagement. People with borderline personality disorder are known for their turbulent relationships, and when you combine two people who suffer from BPD, I guess fights are often inevitable.

But we've made up now and all is good. We still love each other dearly and want to spend the rest of our lives together, but we now agree that we were probably a bit quick with the whole engagement thing. We'll do that again at a later date, once we've sorted a few issues out. Lydia is hoping to start DBT (dialectical behaviour therapy) soon, and I'm also planning to resume mine with my drug counsellor who is fully trained with it.

Lydia has let me keep the ring as a symbol of her love, which I've gladly accepted, but I probably won't be wearing it on my ring finger until we decide the time is right to get engaged again. Anyway, we just thought you all deserved to know, as so many of you have been supportive to us both, and we consider you friends - even though we haven't met most of you face to face!

keep in mind that I am only posting these 'Keepin' it green' entries so that if I find myself with years of clean time I don't EVER behave like some elitist, condescending recovering addict that looks down their nose at those still in their addiction and those trying to escape it.

Many folks with time seem to have forgotten how difficult it is in the beginning. To them I say 'perhaps you should relapse and come back to us some other day with a little humility and gratitude'.

Today is Friday, Februrary 6th, 2009 and it is now 2:21 AM here in the Philippines.

Continuation...

At age 3, like any traditional Jewish male I had my first haircut. Males are considered to be very valuable because they keep wealth inside the Clan, while females marry out and so leave their Clans. We believe that from birth to age 3 we are very vulnerable to demons, evil spirits and such so we keep our male childrens' hair as long as a girls to confuse evildoers into thinking "he" is a "she."

We teach that males and females are completely equal under G-D but that our roles and responsibilities are VERY different. I am not a feminist by any means but the idea that it SEEMS as if "demons" would not want a female, as much as they would a male. I can rationalise it though, by knowing our roots are as desert nomads, where males meant wealth and defence. Females meant an onus until their marriage because you had to support them and they could not do much for the Clan or tribe.

At the time of our first haircut our fathers or grandfathers take us to a learned and respected Rabbi (clergyman, means "Teacher" in a sense ). When reading Torah (5 books of the Old Testament" we use a silver pointer, so as to not miss a single sylablle, etc. The Rabbi takes the pointer, dips it in honey, and allows the young boy to lick the honey. it is to teach him that the "word" is precious and sweeter than anything else.

After this we begin our first schooling. From age 3 on we attend classes from 530 or 6 AM until nightfall for 5 days, with a half day on Friday, and off on Saturday. Most traditional teachers use physical discipline , and a child learns quickly to behave, at least in class. Imagine getting a 3 year old to study from dawn to dusk without stop except for praying. It is no easy task!

These first schools are called "Cheder," and last until one nears the age of adulthood, which for us is age 13 for males, and 12 for females. In traditional schools you are taught in Yiddish, Ladino or Hebrew and only have 2 hours of secular education which is required by the state. Those classes are 1 math class, 1 English class, and 1 physical education class which is a joke and which they meet by calling "recess" phys. ed.

Most traditional Jews despise secular educations and believe that the secular education their child needs can be supplied by their fathers and grandfathers and should only consist of things needed for business. Females are usually denied secular educations in alot of cases and generally only go to school until 18 or marriage, whichever comes first (almost always marriage by age 16).

In my case I attended Cheder until age 10 but then began acting out. I was switched the school for older males, called a "Yeshiva." I lived in Brooklyn and my yeshiva, "Rebbe Teitz" (The Teacher by the Name of Teitz" or as it is called in English, "Jewish Educational Center (sic)" in Elmora, NJ (right outside Elizabeth, NJ).

To get from my home in Midwood , Brooklyn to northern NJ I had to take the subway all the way into Manhattan, switch for the PATH train (PATH is a subway system that connects northern NJ cities with one another as well as with Manhattan). I would then take the PATH to Newark where a van would pick me and others up, and drop us off in front of our school. I would wake at 330 AM, do my morning abolutions, get dressed and take the subway at 445 AM, and my morning prayers as I travelled. I would get home usually at 9 PM or thereabouts.

It was on these astronomically long commutes that I began to get into trouble, even trying cannabis with non-Jews I befriended. It did not take long for my family to find out and after a family meeting I was shipped to my mum's family in the South Bronx. Her parents and siblings had perished in the Holocaust but her auntie was more like a grandmum to me, and I called her the Yiddish diminutive for "grandmum" ("bubbileh" or "bubby").

I did not change my ways in the Bronx, the different route of commute did not alter my ways and so I was shipped post haste to Israel. Perhaps 20% of all Israeli Jewish males attended religious boarding schools. Between them and the Disapora Jews lime myself there were many schools (and still are) boarding children.

I entered a Yeshiva system under Rav Kook. "Rav" is an Aramaic title and is the same as "Rabbi" or the Yiddish "Rebbe."

Rav Kook the Elder was an early 20th Century (CE/AD) Rabbi who was an anomaly for his time. At the time religious Jews and Zionism were almost totally incompatible. Many have little understanding of Israel and imagine it to be a religious state. It is the diametric opposite, founded by men who usually were atheists.

Most religious Jews of the time believed that refounding our nation should wait for the arrival of the Messiah. Rav Kook though took a different perspective. He said that even if Zionists were sinners, their sins had the aim to bring about the ingathering of exiles (a Jewish theological issue) and as such should be regarded as blessed as instruments of the Divine Plan.

This caught on like wildfire as the saying goes because it then allowed many religious Zionists to reconcile their two ideologies and as such is still today a vibrant movement.

I was 11 my first year there, in the Jordanian Valley, in what is called by some, the "West Bank." We had very spartan surroundings. indeed, our school had been a Jordanian army position and we lived in literally military bunkers. We had water trucked in, and we all were put to work.

That same year a man from the US, from my Brooklyn neighbourhood came to speak at our school. He would soon become famous worldwide. Rabbi Meir Kahane who had founded a group in Brooklyn in the late 1960s. "The Jewish Defense (sic) League."

In the late 1960s there was a lot of racial violence in the US (when has there not been?) and many traditional Jews were targeted by blacks since they were as close to whites came , and lived on the same streets as them. Jews were unorganised and Kahane saw that we needed to be able to defend ourselves and so the group grew from that basic premise.

In the early 70s its focus changed, so that it began engaging in overt political activity. Its main target was the former USSR, which at that time had been severely restricting Jewish Emigration. the JDL began engaging in more and more violence but only against strictly political targets. A good example perhaps was the bombing of the Aeroflot office in Manhattan which was reckless since the building also had other tenants but there you go...

When he came to my yeshiva Kahane was organising his first political party, "KACH." KACH is not translatable into English but can be said to be the equivalent of the English word "Thus," or "Ergo."

I can still remember his speech, how animated and passionate he was and he was certainly a masterful orator. He also had the adulation of many staff members at my school and most of the older students. He spoke about how we were the sons of kings, of might warriors. We were not the little mousy shopkeepers and bankers that the West tried to make us. We were strong, and when the Westerners' ancestors had been praying to oak trees and learning how to make fire we were already living in a strong nation with rule of law.

His words sent chills up my spine and so when in the next couple of months he sponsored a paramilitary organisation at the school I enthusiastically joined.

We began with after school drills 3 times a weeek for 2 hours at a time but within that first year those of us who tested in certain key areas were withdrawn from general studies and educated on a military track, with the majority of our days spent in actual exercises including live fire.

At age 12 they set specialised tracks for us. I tested high for Infantry and so was drilled and instructed along those lines and fully adept at the Galil and M16 by my Bar Mitzvah at age 13, my entry into adulthood.

The "Bar Mitzvah" means "Son of the Commandments/blessings." "Bar" is Aramaic and "Mitzvah" is both Aramaic and Hebrew. The custom dates only from the century around our Exile (via Rome) but has served us well as a unification ritual.

Many Westernised Jews have "Bat Mitzvah" for their daughters (at age 12) but the truth be told it is purely an American invention, like the giving of gifts on Chanukkah. A disgusting symbol of assimilation.

A Bar Mitzvah involves the 13 year old man reding from the Torah in front of the entire congregation/community, and a portion of the "Haftorah" which is another facet of Jewish Scripture. To do so he must lean "Trope" which is an entire system of symbols, another alphabet almost, that enables us to sing melodies accurately. Many are thousands of years old.

In the West it culminates usually with the man giving a "sermon" which is basically a lesson on that portion of Haftorah that was just read. My portion was "Achray Mote" which means "After Death" and involves the death of Noach (Noah).

In the West it involves ridiculous parties, and disgustingly Jews in America (at least) have themed parties, entertainment, and such. I have a cousin whose father paid 20,000 US for his and most of the family walked out but in the end he got what he wanted in that he aimed to impress neighbours and co-workers.

I am dead set against the commercilisation of religion in any form.

Well, character counts being what they are i will close here and continue soon...

Yeah, its time to attempt to put my understanding of diety into words.

I don't 'follow' any of the standard knuckleheads such as jesus, allah, yahweh, ja, etc. My belief system is more symbolic than anything. I DO believe in a 'something' (perhaps even a 'great something'). And I feel that this 'something' cares for me, wants me to learn, reach my potential and live a life of substance. I typically perceive this power as female but at times I refer to it in a masculine sense.

I do pray everyday to my particular whatnot on a daily basis. I always have. When I was using hardcore, I prayed on an intermittent basis.

I sense that this force of nature (or super nature) is generally good but doesn't fuck around when an asshole like me needs a quick eye-opener or harsh lesson. Well, generally good isn't a fair assessment. I think he/she/it is perfectly good.

But dude, what about all the bad in your life? How can something 'perfectly good' allow any bad? The answer is simple, my higher power isn't a pussy and is kind enough to give me just enough hardship so that I may grow and learn. These growth spurts and lessons are always perfectly timed. And I can't label something that allows me to grow and learn as 'bad' or 'flawed'.


But what about all the evil in the world? To me, 'evil' is a christian term and at this point in time I can't be bothered to look up the dictionary definition. I CAN say this however, hearing of 'evils', witnessing 'evils' and even participating in 'evils' have taught me such good things such as compassion, empathy, loyalty and honesty (just off the top of my head). So, is it purely evil if good has come out of it? Not purely. So perhaps it isn't evil at all.

Oh, I can't remember specifics but this higher power of mine has a twisted sense of humor as well. I get a kick out of it!

Most likely, to be continued...

...was Keira saying 'yes'

wat do i mean?
wat did she say 'yes' to?

well, here's the story...
I knew from Day One that Keira was a very special, out-of-the-ordinary (in a gd way ) woman. Before we even met, as gd friends on the internet (originally via PM, then MSN/hotmail and finally by txt/calling each other), I hoped that she and I could end up more than friends oneday - I'd seen pics of her and yes, they made my heart hammer, as she is gorgeous, but looks r the last thing I care about. Keira seemed to share all my values - she is loyal, empathetic, honest (some say addicts rnt honest but I believe there r exceptions to this...I've only ever lied by ommission, and wen I occasionally lied genuine lies it wud bug me till I gave in and confessed...it always struck me that Keira valued honesty highly too, and I was right - once we became a couple, I realised I could trust her with anything; her DOC, like mine, is methamphetamine...yet wen she stays at my house, if shes run out of her bag of P, even if I've gone out for some reason, I know Keira wud never steal any of mine...), u get the picture, evrything I had bn looking for in a partner, Keira had it!

I was thrilled wen she asked me out, after wed met a couple of times - in fact, I clearly remember being at a friend, Marie's, house wen she txted to say sumthing along the lines of 'hope this doesnt ruin our friendship, wont b offended if u say no but...I like u as more than a friend - wud u consider going out with me?'
I jumped up and ran round the room screaming 'yayyyy!'

Since then, we find it so easy to b together, and, while we know personal space is wise (no couple shud ever b together 24/7...) we sure miss each other wen were at our homes without the other one there.
Its all so natural - we talk and talk and talk, we have ups and downs, like evry couple, but its a more intimate and special, more REAL relationship I've ever had with anyone...it feels...right.
Everything about her - her silky red-brown hair, her brilliant smile, her long fine fingers, the way she walks, the way she talks, the way she parts her hair so one side hangs over her eye, the way our bodies just seem to...fit together in bed...like we were made for each other, but most of all how compatible we are...that was wat made me decide...we may hav only bn a couple for a short time but weve bn friends much longer, long enough for me to know her inside and out.
Long enough for me to know that I wud luv to spend the rest of my life wiv her.

So now u can guess wat Keira said 'yes' to today. I got down on my knees and took her hand, popped the question and as she whispered 'yes', tears rolled down both of our cheeks. It felt so right, slipping my grandmother's old engagement ring onto her finger...and it fits perfectly - its a simple gold ring wiv a silver centrepiece surrounding a small diamond, simplistic but pretty, and just right for Keira. Also the meaning behind that ring is important: Grandma and Grandpa were a devoted couple till Grandpa died, so maybe that rings a gd luck charm in a way! Also, Grandma and I were very close - she understood me more than anyone in my family, so I felt, and wen she died just after I turned 13, it was like losing a sister. Grandma had ADHD, like me. Like me, her 'blabbering on' irritated the rest of the family, and they basically told her to fuck off a lot wen she was talking 100km/h. She, like me, had low self-esteem, and felt useless, as she never managed to get any school qualifications - and was a poor housewife due to disorganisation. She was patient with me, as a hyperactive, misunderstood, frustrated, confused, bullied/abused and secretly self-loathing, little kid. She was a nurse and she looked after me wen I stayed at home, sick (which I often was as a child, probably due to the stress of living in an abusive home but at the same time hating school due to being bullied for my ADHD symptoms - stress is bad for asthma, and I'm a severe asthmatic now...but it was worse back then...I also seemed to catch evry cold/flu that was going round, and had millions of ear/throat infections, ending up wiv 2 lots of grommets and having my tonsils removed). Grandma wud sit by me and put cold flannels on my forehead and tell me stories. She'd bring me lemon/honey drinks, hot wheat bags and steam inhalation preparations...she had a real bedside manner. To the rest of my family I was just a pain, Grandma understood me.
Just as Keira does.
Thats why I felt that was the right ring for her.

I wonder if Grandmas smiling down on us now, happy with the choice I've made.
Civil union sure wont b happening overnight - we hav plenty to work thru before we commit ourselves for good, but this is a step forward to basically say 'hey, ur the one I hope to b wiv for the rest of my life!'

We opened a bottle of Bollinger (another symbol - as that was the name of the foal I owned, who died this yr - I believe he wud hav loved Keira too) and toasted to our future - even Mum clinked glasses wiv us and shes anti-anything-but-heterosexual as far as sexual orientation goes; I think she figures if I hav to b gay (well bi technically, but I'm in a homosexual relationship) at least its with a woman shes liked from the beginning!

IM SO FUCKING HAPPY!!!!!

7/11/04 (AGE 20) - Every Druggie Goes Over Sometimes...Right?
Shit, I put the dumb in dumbfuck! I've had four ODs now in one year - twice with heroin, once with crystal meth and now I've gone and made the same fuck-up with Ecstasy. Why do I do these things?
Friday, I had planned out fully. I spent the day filling up on food and selected music I thought would set my trip off nicely. Well apart from driving Graeme around, but even then I made sure we only talked about positive shit. Graeme had just got in 50 eccys - beige Vs - and he'd tested them and found them to be weak and fairly adulterated with meth, so he was having trouble selling them off (because E-tards are E-tards and methheads are methheads) and therefore sold me a batch of six for $100...okay they were shit pills but that is dirt fucking cheap, and Graeme wouldn't do me over by selling me PMA or something; we're mates! I'm not totally against meth bombs - MDMA always makes my eyes too wobbly on it's own and I'm not that into that feeling...I get paranoid I'm about to have a seizure!
So when I'd dropped Graeme home and fed up on a massive big breakfast at the Mangere Bakehouse Cafe, I went home and tested all my pills for myself, including the one I'd got off Andrew. I love testing pills - I really enjoyed chemistry. It was the one subject I did okay at at school...hey I turned out an alright P cook didn't I? Maybe if I hadn't been fried all through 6th and 7th form chemistry I could be running a legitimate pharmaceutical company by now! The dexie factory or something...or whoever makes the opioid painkillers that get supplied to hospitals?
Anyway, as Graeme had said, the Vs were mainly meth, the rest was MDMA and not very strong. The yellow CS was pure MDMA, and it was very strong, plus there was some good rep on those on pillreports.com. As soon as I'd done my research on that pill, no matter how I may feel about the wobbly-eye thing, I knew I had to pop it with my trip and feel the love while I journeyed into my soul. Nothing like candy-flipping, right?
So, late afternoon, I dropped the trip and swallowed the pill at the same time, then went on a long walk with Liam and the dogs in hope of the come-up starting faster, due to my blood moving faster from exercise. We must have been walking for about an hour but I still wasn't even starting to trip. I was feeling quite loved-up and empathetic but it didn't feel enough - it felt like a let-down compared to what I'd psyched myself up for.
So I decided the acid was a bum trip (hey sometimes Andre fucks up - he reckons it's pretty hard stuff to cook) and decided my night was for rolling instead. Unfortunately, I have the mentality of someone with an addictive personality so good as that one pill was, it didn't feel enough - and I wanted P, so I went and dropped half of those meth bombs. When I'm still recovering from that cardiac arrest I had earlier this year after I went over on P - but I don't ever call myself wise. At that point Mum had gone out and Liam had gone out and there I was at home alone, rolling and craving company, yet not satisfied with my roll.
People get stupid and cocky when they're fucked-up. Especially when they don't really believe they're fucked-up. When, what felt like an hour later (though time can get skewed when on drugs), I still was neither tripping (Andre is so paying me back) nor majorly rolling (or so I thought), I impatiently dropped the other three bombs and had a little hit of ice - maybe a point so...totally minute - and sat myself down at the computer feeling a bit tweaked, dizzy and tripped-out (in an 'I've had 7 E's' kind of way) but miserable. I came to the conclusion that E is no fun, alone.
Well, that was when it hit. The ice must have got my heart and blood pressure going enough to kick off all the meth bombs I though I'd already come up on. Suddenly I wondered if even a point of ice was a bit much on top of all that E. That was the smartest revelation I'd had all evening - but it was a little too late.
The room got very bright, I couldn't sit still or concentrate and my vision was covered in tracers and funny dots that moved as I looked round - and my eyes were so jittery I couldn't look at anything for more than a second or two. That felt like too much E.
But obviously the last triple stack hadn't hit because just when I was wobbling into the kitchen to try and get out a bottle of coke (I hadn't drank all evening at that point...), well that was when it hit.
That was when things went to shit - I itched all over from the daily meth intake, including all the meth in the pills and the point of ice I'd recently shot. I felt really sick in the stomach, and my gut felt like it would explode with pain, yet all I could vomit up was a little pool of blood, no pills. My heartbeat was irregular, my chest hurt, my vision blurred over so I could hardly see. I couldn't stand up straight, let alone stagger into my room to go lie down. A lot like the time I overdosed on P - and that ended in a heart attack. I was so frightened.
I didn't think to call 111 - I couldn't think straight at all! So instead I rang Mum's cellphone (luckily I have her on speed dial and my phone was on the kitchen bench...I couldn't walk; I was lying on the ground); she raced home from a party, angry as a snake, and took me off to the emergency department. I was given charcoal but that did shit-all except make me sick as shit, so they said I must have digested all the Ecstasy. I spent the rest of the night on a drip, trying to see straight and think straight. My heartrate continued to climb until it was going double my normal resting heartrate (which is about 120bpm, due to the P) - that worried even the nasty nurses, who gave me heaps of valium and shit to bring it down.
Onto the nasty staff. That's why I hate hospital. They know me there. My files describe me as a severe methamphetamine and heroin addict, a poly-drug abuser and a possible drug-seeker. I'm not a drug-seeker! So the doctor wasn't very nice. When I said that I was off heroin, working on my methamphetamine addiction, and that I'd been through detox, he said 'well, obviously it didn't work did it?'
The rest of the weekend, I very dimly remember. The acid never hit. My heartrate was irregular all day Saturday and I saw more things than usual out of the corner of my eye and felt very paranoid but that was probably just from the comedown. Ugh what a comedown it was too.
Saturday night the depression hit and I started thinking about what the ED doctor said about not having succeeded in detoxing. He hit me where it hurt all right! Oh well, since that's what people will always think of me, I can't be fucked trying anymore. Because I always fuck up no matter what. I'll never get off P, and you know what? I don't care.
All that night I shot P, and finished off the ice. It didn't feel good - I doubt I had enough serotonin and dopamine left to feel good on meth. Just going through the motions I guess - the brief rush when it goes into my veins, but after that, since I went over on that E, meth's just made me hyped-up and angry, then later, paranoid.
On Sunday I finished the ounce I had (there was like a gram left...uh-oh, should have gone to Graeme's the night before, no matter how fucked-up I was) - it didn't even touch me. I had a massive row with Mum that would have become a violent rage if I hadn't got out of there, driven to Graeme's and exhaustedly stayed up all night cooking another batch. Luckily he gave me plenty of P to keep me awake...but not enough to make me feel sociable. Even then, I came home the next day, had a blast and collapsed into bed.
Now it's four days later and the fact that I'm a failure who can never get off meth is really bugging me. It shouldn't, since I choose to cook it - I'm sure if I told my mates to fuck off out of my life and went to NA or church or something I could get off it but still. Why can't I just use on weekends or something? It's everyday or nothing with me.
Also why do I do all this risky shit with drugs like E that I'm not even addicted to? I mean, shit - that OD? Talk about the inevitable happening! Still every druggie goes over sometimes...right?

NB (some of these ppl/gang names may b under aliases, also I am no longer such a heavy P user and am no longer cooking it)
- Graeme was a drug buddy in a local ethnic gang called the 'White Tails' that I used to manufacture/distribute/supply, etc, methamphetamine, with...hes now doing time for manufacturing Class A drugs (I know he AND I were wrong in cooking etc but I do miss Graeme as he was a gd friend, and I regularly visit him still).
- Andrew was an old dealer of various drugs, mainly E/weed/P...he's also my friend's brother (now also inside, for trying to export Ecstasy pills by the kilo to Australia).
- Liam is my younger brother who hated all drugs other than booze/weed/party pills back then (when this was originally written - he would hav bn 18 - hes 23 now)...until he moved out recently and started sleeping with an E user - say no more, he's never looked back!
- Andre was an old mate who considered himself a bit of an alchemist, and he was really a bit of a loner...he only hung out with ppl he really trusted - I got to know him through my ex (they were gd friends) and he slowly got to trust me esp wen he found out I was into cooking drugs as well...only I only cooked P, he cooked all kinds of synthetics, including acid (something to do with ergotamine or something - he never fully told me how to do it, just that it was a difficult process compared to P) so we got acid cheap off him, and it varied...sometimes it was gd, sometimes it did shit-all like this trip; sadly wat i didnt know was that he was cooking all this shit to fund an H habit - he died oneday of an OD...RIP Andre.

Day 4
Yesterday was a alright day, not shit really happend the entire day, since its the weekend aint shit going on.
Played Spades, and shot Pool most of the day, had class at 10am, and once again at 6pm and that was it.
Breakfast was good, we had pancakes. Lunch sucked because we had tuna, and I hate tuna, I'm just now warming up to it. I hate mayo Kraft mayo sucks, shit I can taste the sweet in it.
The only mayo I really like was Bama brand, the shit tastes like butter. Full of lard. Now that wouldn't be that bad mixd with the tuna.
I missed dinner, the whole weekend dinner time thru me off, everyone ate around 5pm, and I thought lunch was at 6pm, so missd it. Luckly my friend got a big ass plate of: bbq ribs, ham, chicken, mac n cheese, baked beans, corn, sweet potatoe, greens, and cornbread.
Woww I ate the enitre meal, afterwords we had the meeting and I passd out, I guess after eating all that food it made me so tired that I ZzZzZz.
Went back to playing cards, and took my nite time meds, and off to bed I went
-------
Day 5
Woke up this morning, had some awesome dreams last night until the fucking anyoing intercom came on and said "if u take 6am meds come to the med window", FUCK! I had such good dreams.
The first dream was one of me being a werewolf (like jacob in twilight/newmoon..) It was cool, then I was a vampire (like edward). There was some girl involved, I don't know if it was bella or what. also I just got done watching "New Moon" again lol. I want to be a vampire..
So got up went n took my neurontin and ate some fucking grits n sausage. The only good thing about breakfast was the frosted flakes with a bannana I cutted up with my spork and mixd with it.
People think people from the south love grits, but I really don't care to much for them. They are good smothered with chedder cheese, I just cant eat them plain. After that I went right back to bed to try to dream about vampires and werewolves until my friend woke me up and said that i was susposed to chair a group, so i hauled ass to group.
lunch was good, ham samichs, i ended up droping my second plate and got another plate lol.

My parents are coming to see me today,
don't know, havn't seen them in a while. Don't know what they are going to say. ugh
----
So my parents did end up coming, and it fucking sucked. I herd a 20 minute bitching session of how fucked up my life is, and how much hurt I put my step father through. What the fuck? I've only met the man once or twice, and hardly spent any fucking time with the man, and he's all upset and shit?
Speaking of dad's I still have no clue what the fuck my real dad is doing. His phone is still off, and my sister or mom havn't talked to him in a while. Like he fell off the map or some shit.
I feel like that at times that I can't go through with this shit any longer. Drugs and booze is the only thing that made me feel pleasure in life, and now it's like all my emotions are coming back and I don't know how to handle them. Even though I've been through 4 rehabs.
This rehab feels different than the others though. Don't know why. Maybe it's because I might have this addiction and alcoholism thing beat and can remain sober.
On a lighter note dinner was alright, had some spaghetti and meat chunks, some bread, and some peach cobbler. Shit tastes just like elementary style food. No shit.Had a AA meeting at 6pm, and it was a alright meeting. The 5 or so "Outsiders" came in and chaired the group, and talked about their problems with alcoholism and how it effected them. It was supposed to be a big book study but of course people think that they have the answer to everything and spit the "game" on how they found that "higher-power" thing.
What the fuck am I going to do?
-Drew

This energy has been building inside of me, sometimes it drives me nuts trying to find an outlet that isn't self-serving.

The time has come to take action. I'm seeing too much pain. I'm seeing people hurting and I see them suffer.

I have it good. Its time to put everything into motion. I'll do the footwork and allow the results be what they may.

I am signed up for a 3 month class to become an EMT. An old friend of mine has a great deal of experience in this area (as does her husband).

She informed me that 90% of what I will learn will be on-the-job. She suggested I volunteer at an ambulance squad while I take my classes.

The other day I went to an ambulance station that she recommended as the best to run with. The people were very nice, informative and excited that I wanted to volunteer. They handed me an application and informed me that there was a $20 application fee that covers the background check.

Fuck!

I became instantly negative in my head. You see, before I went to rehab, a dude OD'd on my couch. I was unsuccessful in reviving him and had no choice but to call 911. The police arrived with the ambulance and charged me (spoons with resin, 37 empty bags of heroin [there weren't that many but I tear my bags in half so they counted the top halves of the bags], empty coke bags, used and unused syringes, weed and a bowl).

The charges were reduced from a felony to a Disorderly Conduct charge (I know most of the cops in my township and they think I'm an ok dude).

Anyway, instead of saying 'fuck it' and not even trying, I am going to list the charge on the application and apply anyway. If they shoot me down I will apply to another station, and another, and another until I am accepted as a volunteer.

Volunteering is a 6 month obligation and after I get my EMT certification they hold a meeting to see about hiring full time.

I won't give the fuck up on this. I need to do something and, call it egotistical if you want, I feel that I am needed as well.

I'm not doing enough at the moment in the name of 'service'. Perhaps if I get involved more the hurt of others won't hurt me so much.

For some reason I'm feeling very sensitive right now and I'm taking this as my insides telling me to 'get the fuck moving!'.

Tomorrow I will call the police station so I can list the charge exactly as they have it listed. I also have charges from 2000 that I'll need to look into.

If I'm not meant to be an EMT than I will take the lengthier route of continuing my classes to be a Drug/Alcohol counselor.

I can't sit and watch this shit anymore.

Its time to get involved and NOTHING (not even myself) is gonna fuck with this motivation.