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Something goes on next year.

Just came across sum of the best bud my neck of the woods. Ok. I don't live in the woods.I live in a stinky city.This batch is totally diff than the other,which I had built up a mondo tolerance to......
As soon as I smelt it ...I was like whOa!! ?
this is gonna be sum good shit man!!!!!
So deprived. Fucking sober, horny too......
my bones ache like shisim.....Xanax fer sleep
Kicked Mr.brownstone to the curb

Fer now.

It really is!

Something that I've been meaning to do for a while is start up a mini food blog. Nothing too heavy yet, but I'm going to aim for weekly updates. As a start, let's talk salads.

Quite often, when people think of vegetarian diets, they think first of tofu, and then salads. And truth be told, I think that salads are both over-represented and under-achieved in vegetarian dining. Granted, I don't live in a hotbed of vegetarian dining, but it is still a bit surprising when I go to a restaurant and the only vegetarian dish is a garden salad.

The thing is that I think that many people have too narrow an idea as to what constitutes a salad. In my parents' home, a salad consists of romaine lettuce (at best) with maybe some celery and fridge tomatoes, drowned in a sugary bottled dressing. I love my parents dearly, but salad people they aren't.

As with most good cooking, good salads are about contrast and balance. Mixing crunchy vegetables with tender leaves, bitter arugula with a tangy/sweet honey and lemon dressing, or a sizzling hot dressing over ice cold greens. Lately I've been looking into incorporating pickles into salads, and have found that there is a great tradition of using quick-pickled cucumbers as a side salad.

Here's a simple but excellent recipe, taken from Eating Out Loud:

4 cups English or Persian cucumbers, cubed
2 teaspoons salt
1/2 cup rice vinegar
1 1/2 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon mirin
Pinch of red pepper flakes
1 tablespoon toasted sesame seeds

The cucumbers should be chopped into cubes about 1/2-3/4″ thick. The Persian cucumbers are small, so I sliced them length ways then cut crosswise into half-moon shapes.

Place the cucumbers into a bowl and sprinkle with the salt. Toss the cucumbers to fully coat. Let sit for 15 minutes. The salt will season the cucumbers but also draw out some of the water. After 15 minutes, thoroughly rinse the cucumbers and drain. Make sure to rinse out the bowl before returning the cucumbers.

Combine the vinegar, mirin, sugar, and red pepper flakes into a small bowl and stir until sugar dissolves. Pour the mixture over the cucumbers. Press the cucumbers down into the liquid so they are covered as much as possible. Refrigerate for 8-12 hours.

It’s important that the cucumbers sit for as long as possible – it’s amazing how much difference it makes. I tested them at 6 hours and they were ok, but after resting for the entire night they were absolute rockstars. Before serving, drain the liquid and sprinkle with the toasted sesame seeds. If you haven’t toasted sesame seeds before, you can read this post on how to toast sesame seeds.

While I love the pickled cucumber salad just the way it is, I played around to see how I could mix it up. You could add sliced sweet-pickled ginger for an added kick of spicy-sweet flavor or add seeded and chopped tomato for texture contrast. All three versions put a smile on my face.

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I've tried this recipe myself a few weekends ago, and let me tell you, it blew me away. The sweet/sour/spicy flavour of the pickle with the half-soft/half-crunchy texture of the cucumbers was just brilliant. It is a quick pickle however, so if it is left for too long the cucumbers will get limp and gross. Eaten at the right time though, they are a thing of beauty.

Back to my old self again now i wake with the notion that its actually worth getting up. even though nothing has changed i think im just adapting to the stress. either way i can rationalise depression again and force it away. i guess these issues wont ever go away so ill just learn to endure and be happy regardless. its just kinda hard when youre not sure what makes you happy other than a substance to distract me for a moment.

Don't explain yourself cause talk is cheap
There's more important things than to hear you speak

Well, hello dear Blog. I suppose I should write in you more often. You and your readers have always been kind to me.

I'm really nervous right now, even for me. I know this time it's biological - my Full Moon period (one could set a clock by me) is getting to me. I should be proud of having half my homework done, getting through an extensive software tutorial that will make my final a breeze (ha) but nonetheless my nerves are on fire. I could take a benzo but I have already had my daily dose and do not wish to misuse my scripts. I may take a nap as it is my day off, but I do not want to sleep through a call. I may compromise and make flash cards while lying in bed. Day 1 of my cycle is such a killer now. I suppose it beats the alternative.

I mentioned in a comment in another Blogger's blog that I feel I am at a crossroads. It relates to career. Should I give up the former and aggressively pursue the new one? I am doing almost too well in school not to, but let's just say that tax accounting (new educational path) is not the most exciting thing I have ever done, and although the glass is half full in nailing out this homework... nonetheless I am nervous. I believe it is unfair for my instructor to accelerate us in this way, but I haven't a choice in the matter. I simply must perform, and perform well.

I have a meeting on Friday with someone who wants me to work with her for the season provided we hit it off as people. She says my credentials are flawless and it's basically a done deal if I can put up with the fact that she is "high maintenance". I may or may not have found a new mentor. Now I have to read her damn book and go take a test on the software.

Before the call I received just now, I felt hopeless and more than a bit apprehensive. My work is so important to me. I do it well and diligently. Some people really hate work, and this is the driest work imaginable, but shit...

*breathes*

I CAN DO THIS. I CAN DO THIS and if it doesn't work out, then something else will.

Please send me good wishes as I have suffered terribly without the meaning that work gives me. I can finally write my own ticket in life if I get this right. I can hit it off with almost anyone if I try, but this has to be genuine, and it can lead to great things.

Back to my tutorial and pile of homework - no more "why me". I'll think a bit on how funny it is the way things work out sometimes, and then I will ponder my next move.

I remain mostly abstinent from alcohol and all drugs that are not scripted to me. Life is good clean. There are some areas that I need to work on, but to paraphrase Dr. Seuss, with my brain in my head and my boots on my feet, I am prepared to head down a brand-new street.

Please wish me luck with all of this. A week from now I want to be thankful, not dejected.

You might see this new girl in your street
Always lying low and staying discreet
A stunning white beauty, thinks she's all class
But those who know her say it's a farce

Every night she plays with some new fool
Turning on the charm, it's so damn cruel!
She demands a lot of cash in exchange for her time
But they want a piece of Crystal, even if it means crime

People call this chick "nasty" behind her back
She's one dangerous bitch, there's no denying that
Underneath the beauty is a devil in disguise
She'll fuck with your life, while she gets you high

Crystal's sometimes found hangin' at a rave
Getting passed around, she's totally depraved
But she doesn't really care, that's just how she acts
Hooking up with randoms, any she attracts

Her latest lover was one sad dude
Fell in love with Crystal and got real screwed
No job, no family, not a penny to his name
The bitch took everything and left him in pain

Now even worse, he's got some disease
Not hepatitis, but HIV
As for little Crystal, she keeps hooking up
Inflicting her misery upon the next poor fuck

I've been feeling rather creative lately. Here's an anti-drug poster I made... I took the photo myself and edited it using Picasa. I actually printed a copy and stuck it on my bedroom wall as a little reminder to myself!

By the time I was 20 I had to maintain a daily habit of: (BTW I AM NOT DICK-SIZING, JUST STATING THE TRUTH...AND I NO LONGER DO ANY OF THIS SHIT)
-4gms methamphetamine
-5-6 barrels heroin/7gm+ homebake
-2gms cocaine
-1/2 40oz bottle of vodka + 5-6 shots absinthe to settle me in the evening
-8 bongs marijuana
plus I often used E/psychedelics/party pills.

To maintain a habit like this you are either: rich (like film star rich)...or a criminal.

I had a $50 horse, as mentioned in an earlier entry (actually by then I'd picked up a cheap little pony who was worth a few beans, but still...we're talking $2000, not what I was using daily) so it doesn't take Einstein to figure out which category I fell into.

I'd started hocking jewellery off Mum when I was younger to help chip in towards our group's coke and weed - this progressed to involvement with a guy from a local gang, George, whose dad was a P cook.
We started off burgling chemists for pseudo and bringing it back to the lab in truckloads but both of us were severely addicted to narcotics. We'd be off our faces on P and would spend more time searching for morphine, codeine, etc. to actually bother with the pseudo!
In the end we started cooking P too. Even manufacturing, distributing and pushing didn't pay for any more than my P habit though.

So I was a prostitute. Not the sexy massage parlour types that work legally. The seedy, hoochie-looking, pock-faced, tracked-arms illegal cats who worked under pimps. A lot of men actually liked me, ugly as I was.

My real crimes were against humanity though. My first boyfriend Taylor was a heroin addict. He went on the methadone program when we hooked up. For me. Funny though - you can't give up drugs for people other than you. He hated methadone. Called it liquid handcuffs. He lived right out in the wops and had to drive for miles to get a dose. Now I'm on methadone I hate it just as much.
Anyway oneday he decided to get off it. I don't think he was ready. He never looked comfortable in his own skin, even though he took it real slow. I'd never touched heroin at that stage - I was (19? Who cares....) and I was naive. Well to how badly skag eats you up.

One night we had a party at his house - he was 2 months completely off methadone. Yet he invited all these junkies! Kate was on the skag - she'd been his dealer....funny how you could get anything off Kate - and while Tay and I were sharing a meth pipe and some booze, the bitch offered him a free hit.

I'll never forget this next bit.Taylor just rolled up his sleeve like a robot, loosened his arm from round me and said, his cat-green eyes looking lost and soulless 'promise me one thing baby - promise me you'll never try heroin.' I did...and I tried to stop him but...try stopping a junkie with a barrel of china in front of him.

After that hit, it seemed like 5 seconds later he turned blue. I tried pounding at his lifeless chest, screeching for someone to call 111, that we needed an ambulance.
Then there was silence. I'd just come to the realisation an ambulance was pointless. Taylor was dead.
I broke the promise that night. I tried heroin. After that I never really stopped.

Then I met May. She was a cousin of my best friend at the time, Laura.
When first introduced to the 'squeaky clean' rich girl I hated May on sight. May stood for everything I wasn't. Everything Laura (who wasn't into any drugs except weed....yet strangely was my best friend....) wanted to be.
Sadly I didn't realise, in my wasted state, how much little May looked up to me. She started ringing me and I introduced her to all my partners in crime. I wanted to corrupt this 15yo rich kid!

May got addicted in a day (to P). Same way I did. She started out, tentatively drinking and smoking weed, pretending she'd done it all before when it was obvious she hadn't! My male friends all had turns in bed with her. She was (still is) gorgeous and they loved her. She even did E and fucked George. I saw red - he was my fuck buddy!

Oneday May turned up at George's joint during a party. She got pissed with us and told me she wanted to be a model.
I snorted and said 'you're too fat - maybe you should try P'.
May was like 'oh no I don't do that shit' but by the time she was drunk enough me and a bunch of others helped convince her to try smoking some. After that night she never stopped. By the time she was 16 she was an IV user (though she still prefers the pipe).

I found out later when our friendship became 'real' (after we both got clean around the same time and started going to NA) I'd been a sort-of idol figure to her. Fuck knows why.

I feel still like I let down two special people in my life - Taylor and May.
Crime's not always about breaking the law is it?

What is meth anyway? So many chemical names start with 'meth' and i have had plenty of drug experiences so that's why I prefer to call methamphetamine 'P' or 'crack' rather than 'meth'.
In America, for instance, 'meth' is short for either...well methamphetamine, yes...or methadone.
Here I want to get into how I became a methadone addict.

We don't call methadone 'meth' here. We call it 'done.
You're pretty much a junkie thats done the rounds if you end up on 'done.

I always swore I'd never go on the methadone program. Heard too many horror stories.
I kicked heroin/homebake/whatever opioid I happened to be using at the time a million times before turning to methadone.

I would either kick on my own or if the habit got bad enough all I had to do was get a bed in fucking detox and they'd get me off the junk (and whatever else I happened to be using at the time) in two weeks with the Magic Suboxone.

It wasn't till last time when I ended up with a heavy china habit like I'd never had before and the options were either
-stay in detox for a fucking month starting from 32mg suboxone...on the promise that was the last time detox saw my face as far as my 'opiate issue' went (they didn't really have the funding to keep me in that long anyway so I would have possibly had to do 2 weeks home detox with a nurse visitting daily to administer the suboxone, plus meds for the P addiction I was also fighting)
-stay in detox for 2 weeks and go onto suboxone or methadone maintenance.

I chose suboxone maintenance but long-term bupe made my ADHD worse - and the dose I needed was too expensive for our family. It was methadone or nothing.
I blindly chose methadone. Why the fuck not? Of course I was going to relapse. I'm. An. Addict.
Also got to back up and understand exactly why I'd dug such a deep hole this time.
May and I had both relapsed on P and May was dating Chris, who was my old coke/opes dealer for awhile. Chris had joined a bikie gang. May had moved into druggie heaven.

Chris' gang are renowned for two things:
-VERY GOOD CRACK
-VERY GOOD SMACK
Smack is rare in New Zealand...but if you know the 'high up there' members of this gang, like Chris' dad, you can get not just smack...you can get china white. It's always 'who you know'...

Shortly after relapsing on P, I also developed rebound withdrawals from the clonazepam I was taking for my epilepsy. You could say I was perpetually strung-out.
So as I switched to diazepam, I started doing my old dodgy codeine extractions, cooking homebake and all that jazz. Shit I even swallowed at least a gram of codeine phosphate (before giving into the old homebake urge) daily for awhile. At one point I didn't shit for nearly a month. Then I ran out of pills for one night, slammed some P (good old P) and shat enough to last that month, if not two more...I didn't know I had so much shit in me.

I went to Chris when the homebake stopped working. Chris' drug of choice is not methamphetamine (to May's disgust) - it's oxycodone.

When I turned up, rattling on their doorstep, May came to the door ready for a sesh but I was so strung-out she just rolled her eyes at Chris who was doing lines of oxy off the glass table.
After I'd had a couple of lines myself, shot a bit more and scored plenty to take home....shit I relaxed.
Oxycodone's kind-of a 'semi-stimulant' opioid for me - on it, I feel quite productive, yet relaxed...a bit the way I feel on a low dose of amphetamine.
After getting my fix, I smoked a couple of grams of crack (my other fix) with them and we talked into the night, then May drove me home.

For a good month I fucked Chris for oxy. May's not stupid. She knew. But I guess she was fucking so many guys for crack what did it matter what I did with Chris?

Then oneday my oxy wonderland came to a smashing halt. Chris couldn't get any for a week...he just actually took the methadone he was supposedly taking (he dosed at the clinic twice a week and got takeaways but otherwise just sold 'done along with everything else).
I had unbearable withdrawals. I mean, fuck, valium made me sick enough without being dope-sick. So Chris gave me one contact I wish I'd never met.....his dad.

Next thing you know I'm meeting this dodgy member of a biker gang in an alley near Wesley nightly for bundles of heroin. I just had to suck his cock or even let him get inside me plus give him a bit of cash and I got what I wanted...I should have known that was too good to be true!
I got pretty sick on heroin. Didn't eat...didn't shower.....didn't even change my clothes.
Methamphetamine became my 'wake-up' hit, rather than my drug of choice. Suddenly I preferred heroin - I had never had stuff of that purity before.

I was only on it for about 3 weeks in the end before that came to a crashing halt though. One night I was gang-raped by that gang - 30 or 40 of them at once pretty much. That was when I decided I had to kick heroin. Again.

Methadone works for me. I pick up my dose three times a week and dose twice a day. I admit I have a psychological addiction to the dreaded stuff. It's a love-hate relationship - I panic if I don't dose at the exact time I like to dose! It tastes like liquid P yet feels like nothing except for 'bye-bye urge to shoot heroin'. After all, it is synthetic heroin.

I'm heading towards 200mg and I'm still not stabilised. Am I surprised? No. I was on 3gms of china a day plus 40mg valium (which apparently abates opioid withdrawals). I have to put up the dose at least 5mg every time I drop 1mg valium.
It's a wonder I'm still alive. Maybe its because of methadone.

That is the estimated date of my conception.
January 1980, the date my parents found out that I was going to be born with what they called at time time "disabilities" and probably would be "retarded" because of them. Yeah the 80s docs were smrt.
April 22nd 1980 is the day I was born, a whole month premature. Cleft palate, jauntice, deprived of air for 2 minutes, a whopping 9Lbs 10oz though.
My grandparents said I should have been aborted cause who wants a retarded "handicapped kid to raise. Then while in NICU my genius parents went out for dinner and got drunk then came to see me, yeah smrt parents. First encounter with CAS.
Skip ahead to childhood era 1983 - 1989. My dad and bro are dealing pot, my whole family doing drugs of all sorts, I'm left raising myself, rarely having clean appropriate clothes or food living in housing (the projects is the american equivilant).
All members of my family are mentally ill but my parents not diagnosed until much later on in my life. My dad telling me daily how I'm a loser and a failure and a retard. Getting teased each day at school for my speach issues. I get a crush on one of my only friends in 3rd grade, he turns me down laughing in my face saying im too ugly n too retarded.....this coming from my bestfriend @ school. Then my bestfriend at home I find out is getting a daily ass raping by my youngest brother from the time she was 4yrs old until 12yrs old. THEN of all irony my only friend left from my brother drama bullshit gives me a daily ass raping for 3yrs before beating me to a pulp. THEN I meet my bestfriend, my love, my "John" who's dad was selling his son for sex to support his heroin and crack habbit. November 15 1990 "John" the love of my life took an unknown drug, was under psychosis or just went crazy from it all. He pulled out a gun after balling in my arms for 3hrs and pointed it in my back then my face and asked if i wanted to die too, told me he never loved me, then blew the head off. Me covered in.....the result. I ran and hid and bawled and went nuts for a while. No one ever knew I was even there with him, suprisingly. He was only 16, I WAS 10 yrs old.
1990-1992 the years of my brother's court for molesting my ex-bestfriend, where he was found not-guilty cause no one would rat him out.
I met my current bff in 1991, the only good thing in my life really ever but we've never been super close, though we're like sisters. She wanted to kill herself in 1993, I saved her by just sitting on the phone and talking. Secretly I was very fucking scared.

I've been floating along with no sense of purpose of late. What's life if you aren't actually in service to others?

I remember calling the Salvation Army a month ago and leaving a few voice mails telling them that I would like to volunteer long term as opposed to merely offering help for the holiday season. They never called back. This kinda makes me not want to get involved with organizations like theirs.

I just feel fuckin' empty.

Recently, I've been trying to grab any purpose I can. I thought that I could be the 'protector' of people. This isn't good because it typically disrupts my sense of peace and involves me stickin' my nose in things that are really none of my business.

I'd like to go across the street and have a few drinks but I can't do that because I only have this borrowed credit card and no cash. I could drink on the card but wouldn't have any loot to go to the city to score.

Why do I feel like I'm falling? Is it the lack of purpose?

I need a fuckin' job. I need routine. I need to feel productive. Instead I sit here stagnating. No apparent growth and faced with the inability to really do anything worth while.

I'm told I need to be patient. I have been. Enough already with the fuckin' patience! I'm following all these suggestions and to tell the truth I many of the NA sayings piss me off.

I say I feel like using. They say 'just don't use'.

Thanks for the AWESOME advice, man, really. 'Just don't use'. Fuck you! I'm clean because I want to be something. I want to be someone.

I guess the results aren't showing quickly enough for whatever reason. I HAD hope before, now I'm starting to lose it rather quickly.

If I use my life will turn to shit. Right now, I'm in a type of purgatory surrounded by a feeling of nothingness.

What did I get myself into? I can't get high and now I'm being prevented from finding a true purpose.

I'm angry and am having thoughts of violence more often than before. Believe it or not, I want this violence to manifest itself in an NA meeting.

I'm not permitted a moment of escape through drugs. I know where this will take me. Why aren't I allowed escape through something positive such as service to others?

I just don't fuckin' get it.

I've debated ever writing my shit, but 29yrs of not what has it done for me? Make me such a fuck up that I screw everything up, have no friends and end up emo alot. Maybe if I write it all out, it could help to move on. Though, I know certian people really wouldn't want to know my shit, and I hesitate cause I don't want no fucking pitty or I'm sorry's. Its been 5 years since the bad shit has been gone so I need no pitty or sorry's. I am gonna write it for ME and no one else. Though I guess it would help some of my friends who don't understand me, understand why I am the way I am and my mind set. I will write it in my next entry, cause I need to TRY and eat.... I haven't really eaten much since those 3-4 pickles last weekend and milk each day. I must eat..... next entry I write.

1992-1993 my 22yr old brother was having "consentual" sex with a 12yr old girl, who also happened to be my friend AND neighbour. He ended up getting her knocked up, and her parents sent her away.
From 1990-1997 my only friend was my bff who once got into boys rarely hung out with me, so I mostly spent my time alone to my thoughts, reading, or once i found out about the internet in 1996, using that at the library.
1997 i met "Steve" who I thought I was in love with and moved in and had a kid with. He was a shitty dad then letting his baby sit in dirty diapers ALL day and crying in her playpen. At night raping me on a constant basis. Punching me once on the TTC and making me lose my first pregnancy calling me a fucking dirty cunt, and no one did anything though many saw.
Oh before him though trying to find a bf or any kind of relationship, getting laughed at and called too ugly for many years.
April 2002 "steve" kicks me out after i paid his rent, steals my daughter and runs off to live with his mom and new gf who he had been fucking for months. Found out he'd been fucking every girl he could since we started dating.
Finally get the courage a few months later to try at my friend who had been flirting with me, but ya, rejection again. Lost him as a friend too. The only man so far that actually liked my daughter/kids.
I tried dating 1 guy but he turned out to be really psychotic, like you weren't sure if he'd kill you in his sleep and he thought he was michael myers kind of fucked up, and I def. couldn't handle that at that time.
all alone in the shelter system until Feb. 2004, where my shit kept getting stolen, I kept getting sodomized and yelled at. I went back to school and got my OSSD, though, as a kid I was told I was smart enough I should graduate by time I was 16, but I dropped out and was fucked up. I got my OSSD in 2004, then went to security school and passed there and met "T".
"T" and I started dating in May 2004 and we moved in together September 2004, found out I was pregnant in October 2004. He so far has been the only man to treat me like a queen, love me unconditional. He got on meds, was fucked up and I got sick of his shit. I met an amazing man, that I will not mention his name, cause he knows who he is. Met him in 2007/8 online, I always liked out online chats at night. He was nice and sweet to me, only man to ever call me sexy and hot. I found him incredibly sexy n hot, a smart man, and over all incredible (oh shush, i know your ego is sky high already LOL). I was sick of my monotonous boring fustrating life and said fuck it and risked and gave up on everything to spend time with this man. To the point that I left "T" and my kid and had my own place lined up to get away from all the stress and bullshit. I met this amazing man finally and I've never been one for love at first sight or that OMG! at first sight thing.... but I was..... "OMG!" and I just couldn't help hugging him. I wish our meeting was kid free but life sucks and all....lol. 2 weeks of the sweetest man I ever saw, and sweet emails, and the way he made me felt by being so free with his words and feelings.
I guess I must have screwed up somewhere, I guess no one wants a chick with kids, maybe I'm destined to be alone forever and stuck living with a fuck up cause I'm too mentally fucked up to hold a job long enough to pay rent.
I go try and get my shit in order, for this guy, left my fuck up whatever for this dude, and YES again, rejection. Only hurts so bad cause this amazing guy I considered my bestfriend, he told me many times he loved me and missed me.
This after losing 5 of my friends who lost interest in me. 2 friends of mine who committed suicide, a friend who died of H1N1, my ex who kept saying he wanted to kill himself and die.
Then people wonder why I get clingy to friends, why i get emo, why i get so profoundly hurt when i fall in love so deeply and get rejected.

I guess I'm too fucked up, too ugly, too much baggage, and too fucking stupid.

I guess I'm destined to be alone forever.

Fuck, and I can't even become a nun.

It feels like I am slowly going crazy along with such heart break the my chest literally hurts.

I'm not being emo, just telling it how it is.

Rejection, hurt, insulting, berated for 99% of my life.

Then people wonder why I am the way I am.

I am the nicest person in the fucking world, I help anyone in need, I would give my last dollar to help someone in need, I would never hurt anyone, I love so deeply when I fall in love and it's always forever, I am non-judgemental, I don't care what you do or have done or will do (besides rape and pedos).

All I want is for someone to care, someone that's not my kid to LOVE ME, BE IN LOVE with ME. To Spend time with ME.

I take people as they are, like them/love them no matter what and all that. Why can't I get a fucking break ya know?

WHAT MAKES ME SO FUCKING UNLOVEABLE?!

Want to know something? When in relationships I was NEVER emo, NEVER, I was always happy as long as theytreated me good.

What is so wrong with dating someone with kids?
My kid has been through more hell than most 4yr old have been, he has seen more death and murder than any 4yr old should.

He has been hated by so many people (I LOVE HIM DEARLY). He has a fucking father, I am not looking for a daddy replacement, he's seen death, guns, drugs, and crazy ass mofos. Everyone has hated him but me. Why, how can someone hate this lovely boy?!

More so how can some people dislike him when he is so like them in so many ways.

Why do men think my kids would even play a part in any part of the relationship UNLESS it got serious enough for "sleep overs" or moving in together. Thats not likely to happen since I live with my ex and son's father.

People assume so fucking much, it hurts that they would hurt me on assumptions. Then when I tell them they're wrong, they have to resort to a lie - something that would cut so deep and hurt me.

All I ever wanted was to lay in a man's arms weither all night or a few hrs, letting him hold me, while my ear upon his heart listening to the rythm of his heart. Talking about everything and yet nothing. Going out and having fun even if broke ass poor. To be able to kiss him, hug him, or what not whenever. I don't even care about sex. I love sex, sure, and would love to have it every day / as much as possible.

All I want is a chance.

Why will no one ever give that to me. Why must EVERYONE hurt me.

Maybe I need to be a horrible mean person who abandons her kid for meth and is fucked up 24/7/365 and a cum dumpster for men.

Seems people go for that type of person over me.

Thanks world for making me feel so worthless. My mom should have swallowed instead.

reading the darkside today, sliced at my normally cool and composed self. I don't me a nick at it, it tore me from pelvic bone to nap of my neck.

So many bad memories, so many things I wish I could help with. So many people suffering in silence, often over false images in magazines, or from a disorder that is simple to treat.

Not many things rip rangrz apart like that, and if I made an ass of my self. I am sorry. But it was a punch of emotion and sadness that compared to very few others.

So I will try every day, to make some small, positive change. One more burden on my weary shoulders, but one I would rather take on the fluff off.

I don't care if I'm a spook, viewed as a sciopathic tool of the goverment by most. It aint true, we too have feelings, we're not sciopaths. I don't care if i'm a tweaker. Once again viewed as just violent, mean people. No, we feel too. I am whatever you say I am. But I know who I really am. The things that I feel and care about. The things that bring me to tears, and the acts I am capable of doing, if the need should occur. Fuck the labels of the general public. I'm still human, even if they are blinded to it.

Just writing shit out helps sometimes. Even if its hard to understand for anyone else. My life has been fucked up in a million ways and not many would understand 100%, just as I can not understand others 100% but I can offer my compassion. Maybe sometimes, others could do the same for the type of people they might not get?

Yeah, I'm kind of weak right now. I keep flip flopping with my cravings and justifications to use. To tell the truth, I still can't come up with a SOLID excuse or reason to get high. The thing is, I don't need one. Its scary to think that 'just because' can send me back to where I was before (or worse)

I'm just gonna hang here in the Blog section of BL for a bit. I'm too shaky to be around the other sections at the moment. Even TDS triggers me sometimes but this is entirely due to my own weakness and fucked up, self-hating manner of thinking.

87 days clean from everything so far.

Such a tiny, HUGE amount of days to not use drugs. I wonder sometimes if I'll make it. Something tells me I haven't hit my bottom yet but do we really need to hit that 'bottom' to get better?

I feel like I have a lot of potential in this life. I guess I need to be patient and wait it out. My time frames and expectations of when things should be happening are twisted and unrealistic.

Things will be when the time is appropriate. NOT when I say it is time.

I'm strong on the surface
but not all the way through
I've never been perfect
but neither have you.

I guess I can pretend
Hide everything away
I've done it all before.

Every man has hurt me
in one form of way or another
why would I expect to get my way
win the perfect man
cause your perfect to me.

So lets pretend
pretend to be just friends
lets hide the feelings away
and deny they exist
lets go have fun
lets go get spun.

haha I work at a recycling plant. And today my buddy found a box from the MAC store with 15 unopened IPODs.. The touch screen ones. I wish I found that box. Everyone at work that day got one. lol

One ounce of Marijuana

500mg of 4-methylmethcathinone (aka Meow)

Sometimes I got bed at night and request dreams about certain topics from my sub conscious.
I didn't know what I wanted to dream last night so I just said to myself when I was in bd going to sleep, I want to dream about something fun so when I wake up I feel good.

(i tend to always remember my dreams very vividly)

So I went to sleep.
I woke up this morning having dreamt that I was in some random city scoring dope and I was stoke to be doing so.
I've never played around with heroin IRL so was surprised with this.
In my dream I knew how to cook it and find the vein and everything. In real life I'd be fumbling from what I've seen on TV never having been around many IV users when they rig up.
Anyway I shot the dope and had the time if my life sitting in a park leaning up with my back against the tree and i began to nod while listen to some birds chirping in a tree above me.

After this I woke up feeling very euphoric.

Was a bizarre dream.

Tonight I'm going to ask myself for another 'fun' dream and see what happens.

káposztás tészta (cabbage and noodles)



its small, square noodles pan fried with shredded cabbage. bacon can be added for more flavor.

bécsi szelet (weinerschnitzel)



its pretty much weinerschnitzel... thinly pounded veal breaded and fried. served with a lemon for squirting.

Töltött káposzta (stuffed cabbage)



1 cabbage
For the filling
1 lb. ground beef
1/2 lb. rice, rinsed
1 large onion, finely chopped
1 tbsp édes paprika
A little olive oil, just to help bind it together
Salt and black pepper to taste
For the sauce
1 15 oz. jar sauerkraut
Water
Oil
2 tbsp all-purpose flour
1 tsp édes paprika
1 tbsp granulated sugar
Salt to taste
2 6 oz. cans tomato paste

Take off the most wretched outer leaves of the cabbage, and rinse the whole thing off. Steam the cabbage for 5-10 minutes, or until the leaves are pliable enough to bend easily. I find that after removing all the pliable leaves I can, I end up having to re-steam the still hard inner leaves. If I steam it so long that even they are pliable from the start, the outer leaves are easier to accidentally rip.

Peel off the leaves. Hold each leaf rib-side up, and pare the thick rib down to get rid of that tough vein and make it about as flat as the rest of the leaf.

Prepare the filling by mixing all the filling ingredients together by hand. The rice:meat ratio varies, though I have suggested using a 1:2 ratio here. Ima initially told me to use 1 part rice to 1 1/2 parts meat by weight, but when I tried it that way, there was way more rice than I’m used to when she cooks it. It may be that the type of rice used affects this – I don’t know what sort of rice Ima uses (Uncle Ben’s would be my guess), but I use basmati. Szaz Anna also uses 1 part rice to 1 1/2 parts meat by weight.

When I called Ima to ask her to clear this up for me, she explained that it is really based on what you can afford – if you can afford more meat, use less rice. If you want to stretch the meat further, use more rice. The rice also serves the purpose of keeping the meat from binding into nothing more than a tough patty; like the bread in meatballs, the rice here keeps the meat tender and good.

To fill each cabbage leaf, set the leaf on the table rib-side down, so that it naturally curves into a sort of cup waiting to be filled. Roll small handfulls of meat into oblong patties that fit the size of the leaves, and place the filling on the cabbage leaf, near the bottom of the leaf. Fold the sides of the leaf over the filling, and roll the cabbage around the meat, being sure to tuck the bottom end of the rib around the filling to keep it all snugly wrapped.

Cut the center out of the cabbage that remains, and discard. Chop up the rest of the cabbage into small pieces.

To fill the pot, start with a layer of that chopped up cabbage mixed with sauerkraut. Then place the stuffed cabbage in a flat layer on top of that, starting by lining them up around the circumference of pot and then filling in the middle. Add another layer of chopped cabbage and sauerkraut on top of that, then another layer of stuffed cabbage. Keep going like this until you run out of stuffed cabbage, and add a final layer of chopped cabbage and sauerkraut on top. Add water to just cover the contents of the pot.

Bring it to a boil, then reduce to a simmer. Simmer, covered, for about 30 minutes.

A few minutes before your kitchen timer goes off, make a roux by browning the flour in a bit of oil in a separate pan. Stir in the paprika, then remove from heat. Add the sugar, salt, and tomato paste, and mix well. Ladle some of the water out of the cooking cabbage pot and mix in with the paste, just to thin it out. Add the thinned paste back into the pot with the cabbage, and carefully stir it in to dissolve it in the water. My grandmother instructed me to the shake the pot to get the paste mixed in, but my pot was too full for me to risk that.

Simmer for another 10-20 minutes, or until done.

uborka saláta (cucumber salad)



its thinly sliced cucumbers covered in vinegar and seasoned with salt, pepper and paprika.