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I really am enjoying the rest of my time off as I sit here typing in the middle of the night. I was shocked to see that when I picked up my phone to look at something, there were 9 motherfucking calls! I'm like what the fuck? Ok, well dunno if I'm in trouble, but I DID arrange with both my company and the family to be off yesterday and they obviously forgot. Oh goody I get to deal with that tomorrow or whenever soon. My bank account is down $100 more than it should be. I had mentioned to Aimee I had gone online to make more money by responding to an ad that you get paid by Google to post web links. That sounded good to me, but no where did it say anything about hidden fees. They charge $1.98 to your card, but Aimee said that they acutally bill you $72 a month for this shit. I freaked. That explained the lack of funds last Thursday, then the bank charging me a $24 NSF fee.
Fuck me, man I haven't had to deal with that shit for over 2 years. More shit I have to deal with. I've been having to literally force myself to eat every day, and usually I manage 2 small snacks or 1 meal and I can't believe how fast the time goes by and I'm asking myself, "I HAVE to eat again already?" I make sure to do it too, cause I don't want to feel the weakness of low blood sugar. It's incredible how completely different my thinking is about food like day and night when on meth or not on meth. When I'm not on it, I have to stop myself from eating out of bordome or reflex, and when I'm on it, I whine to myself saying "I don't WANT to eat!" but I usually force something down anyway. Still, the lbs are disappearing every single day, Christ. I've had Brendan, Aimee, the dope fiends at the garage, and even strangers on line that see me as I am now and praise me for my beauty or whatever.
I'm flattered, but I just never saw it before, ever unless I was what I considered to be thin. I'm grateful to Brendan, Aimee, and the weight loss of course, cause it's a horrible burden to have to look in the mirror and hate what you see, it's ugly because of too much unwanted fat. It fucks up your psyche and wears you down, and God I don't EVER want to have to go through that again! I also don't EVER want to have to be that horrible disgusting weight I had before which caused me just as many problems carrying around 240 lbs as it was being a hard core strung out junkie, the only diference is the problems were a trade off. I love how I look now and I'm no longer ashamed of the prospect of having to undress in front of someone, especially a man, and that's a great freedom.
Am still wonderin should I do the hit of acid Wed (sometime today?) Somehow, I'll have to suffer the food cravings and be extremely disciplined enough not to eat more than 2 or 3 small meals a day so I don't gain back any weight the second I stop the drug. Brendan and I continue to keep writing back and forth and Christ there is a ton of porn right there. I will say this about meth too, is that it DOES help me become way more of a wild woman, instead of the conservative one sober, which frankly is fucking irritating. If I ever actually DID see Brendan, which I doubt because I have no fucking money and he'll probably cry poor too because he has no job. It's all good. The thing is it would be too hard to sneak and do meth behind his back, but a couple pills of X would be easy AND they would do the trick. Goodbye conservative woman and inhibitions, free me up for once to have a good time, Christ.
These stupid obstacles of shyness, shame, and introversion have little by little begun to lift bit by bit, but it's taking a long ass time. It had been so long since I'd done sex or drugs, that I'd completely forgotten that they existed pretty much, especially sex. At least when I was still using before I got clean, even though I really didn't have sex that much, other than a way to make money occasionally, my mind was still able to be somewhat open due to the meth. I get so fucking sick and tired of all these stupid hang ups no matter if I'm sober or loaded. If I'm sober, food and weight are the main issue, plus other minor ones like writer's block, not able to enjoy sex because it seems and feels so damn boring compared to NOW. When I'm stuck with a habit, like now, the issues are constant poverty, getting in trouble for letting shit slide that I let pile up and didn't want to deal with, plus no real time left over after the meth and working full time take their toll.
Issues. Always something. I get mad because they shouldn't be big fucking deals, yet with me they turn into just that, fuck. Brendan is indeed a sex addict. It makes sense that one addict would somehow attract another, but he'd be absolutely mortified if he knew the kind of addict I am. Sad to say, but I'm a much better lover on meth or X than sober, now not A LOT, but a small dose of either. I don't want there to have to be boundaries between Erik and I either. I respectfully did NOT bring up certain issues because I did NOT want to upset him. He said something when he called me at work a few nights ago about not having to have secrets or shit that we are too afraid to bring up, I forget exactly, but I really liked what he had to say. It's so much easier if everyone can say what's on their mind or ask questions without fear of upsetting the other person.
For the first time, I could REALLY tell too, that he was able to call and talk to me because he was under the influence of meth. He has a difficult time when there are no chemicals. That's a problem I have too, perhaps to a slightly lesser degree. I wish there was one of my old dope fiend friends on line I could talk to. I'd shoot up the last of my meth with them on line if they wanted, just like the old days, but now unfortunately, most of them are gone or they quit doing meth. Sigh. I dread this shit. I dread having to kick, God it's gonna suck so much. Still, I guess if I don't stop for a little while, it's gonna suck just as much or maybe even more. I'm no longer clean, but have to get undirty, at least with the meth. It's sad because I'm no longer a part of the NA community, as I don't want to tell the whole community I'm back on chems. Eventually my sponsor will have to be told. Ok I'm trippin. I just want a fucking life without so many goddamned hassles clean or loaded.
So, here's an old cyber story, from the days I'd shoot up, get all hot and bothered, and instead of getting live dick, I'd get it on line. On line there were never disappointments but live one night stands ALWAYS were. Brendan being a sex addict certainly explains why he's so good at it, a skill I can certainly appreciate. If anything, he is helping me to overcome my own inhibitions by being VERY open to suggestion and making it perfectly clear he will not judge. So there it is, I just need to do it with him already and use that as therapy to be direct and to do shit I'm not comfortable with in order to not let it bother me anymore. One thing I have always done, and always gotten away with in sex until Brendan is the fact that I always either close my eyes, or even better get sex from behind that way I don't have to make eye contact and my face is covered. I'd rather the guy fucking me sees my ass and not my face, but that's not gonna work with Brendan. I told him fine, he's gonna have to be patient and work with me, which he is.
Still, this is only cyber as far as I'm concerned because I'm not going to ASSume he's gonna fly here or put up the money again to fly me to Dublin. So cyber it is and even that is good practice communicating. I got all kinds of silly, superficial issues that cropped up after I got clean that I never really knew the depth of until the chemicals ceased for a while. Fuck, I only hope I can drag my ass out of whatever trouble there is with work and all this other bullshit...the piles of bills, the phone calls, ect. I try to have as few responsibilities as possible because I find them to be a burden.
Fuck me, man I haven't had to deal with that shit for over 2 years. More shit I have to deal with. I've been having to literally force myself to eat every day, and usually I manage 2 small snacks or 1 meal and I can't believe how fast the time goes by and I'm asking myself, "I HAVE to eat again already?" I make sure to do it too, cause I don't want to feel the weakness of low blood sugar. It's incredible how completely different my thinking is about food like day and night when on meth or not on meth. When I'm not on it, I have to stop myself from eating out of bordome or reflex, and when I'm on it, I whine to myself saying "I don't WANT to eat!" but I usually force something down anyway. Still, the lbs are disappearing every single day, Christ. I've had Brendan, Aimee, the dope fiends at the garage, and even strangers on line that see me as I am now and praise me for my beauty or whatever.
I'm flattered, but I just never saw it before, ever unless I was what I considered to be thin. I'm grateful to Brendan, Aimee, and the weight loss of course, cause it's a horrible burden to have to look in the mirror and hate what you see, it's ugly because of too much unwanted fat. It fucks up your psyche and wears you down, and God I don't EVER want to have to go through that again! I also don't EVER want to have to be that horrible disgusting weight I had before which caused me just as many problems carrying around 240 lbs as it was being a hard core strung out junkie, the only diference is the problems were a trade off. I love how I look now and I'm no longer ashamed of the prospect of having to undress in front of someone, especially a man, and that's a great freedom.
Am still wonderin should I do the hit of acid Wed (sometime today?) Somehow, I'll have to suffer the food cravings and be extremely disciplined enough not to eat more than 2 or 3 small meals a day so I don't gain back any weight the second I stop the drug. Brendan and I continue to keep writing back and forth and Christ there is a ton of porn right there. I will say this about meth too, is that it DOES help me become way more of a wild woman, instead of the conservative one sober, which frankly is fucking irritating. If I ever actually DID see Brendan, which I doubt because I have no fucking money and he'll probably cry poor too because he has no job. It's all good. The thing is it would be too hard to sneak and do meth behind his back, but a couple pills of X would be easy AND they would do the trick. Goodbye conservative woman and inhibitions, free me up for once to have a good time, Christ.
These stupid obstacles of shyness, shame, and introversion have little by little begun to lift bit by bit, but it's taking a long ass time. It had been so long since I'd done sex or drugs, that I'd completely forgotten that they existed pretty much, especially sex. At least when I was still using before I got clean, even though I really didn't have sex that much, other than a way to make money occasionally, my mind was still able to be somewhat open due to the meth. I get so fucking sick and tired of all these stupid hang ups no matter if I'm sober or loaded. If I'm sober, food and weight are the main issue, plus other minor ones like writer's block, not able to enjoy sex because it seems and feels so damn boring compared to NOW. When I'm stuck with a habit, like now, the issues are constant poverty, getting in trouble for letting shit slide that I let pile up and didn't want to deal with, plus no real time left over after the meth and working full time take their toll.
Issues. Always something. I get mad because they shouldn't be big fucking deals, yet with me they turn into just that, fuck. Brendan is indeed a sex addict. It makes sense that one addict would somehow attract another, but he'd be absolutely mortified if he knew the kind of addict I am. Sad to say, but I'm a much better lover on meth or X than sober, now not A LOT, but a small dose of either. I don't want there to have to be boundaries between Erik and I either. I respectfully did NOT bring up certain issues because I did NOT want to upset him. He said something when he called me at work a few nights ago about not having to have secrets or shit that we are too afraid to bring up, I forget exactly, but I really liked what he had to say. It's so much easier if everyone can say what's on their mind or ask questions without fear of upsetting the other person.
For the first time, I could REALLY tell too, that he was able to call and talk to me because he was under the influence of meth. He has a difficult time when there are no chemicals. That's a problem I have too, perhaps to a slightly lesser degree. I wish there was one of my old dope fiend friends on line I could talk to. I'd shoot up the last of my meth with them on line if they wanted, just like the old days, but now unfortunately, most of them are gone or they quit doing meth. Sigh. I dread this shit. I dread having to kick, God it's gonna suck so much. Still, I guess if I don't stop for a little while, it's gonna suck just as much or maybe even more. I'm no longer clean, but have to get undirty, at least with the meth. It's sad because I'm no longer a part of the NA community, as I don't want to tell the whole community I'm back on chems. Eventually my sponsor will have to be told. Ok I'm trippin. I just want a fucking life without so many goddamned hassles clean or loaded.
So, here's an old cyber story, from the days I'd shoot up, get all hot and bothered, and instead of getting live dick, I'd get it on line. On line there were never disappointments but live one night stands ALWAYS were. Brendan being a sex addict certainly explains why he's so good at it, a skill I can certainly appreciate. If anything, he is helping me to overcome my own inhibitions by being VERY open to suggestion and making it perfectly clear he will not judge. So there it is, I just need to do it with him already and use that as therapy to be direct and to do shit I'm not comfortable with in order to not let it bother me anymore. One thing I have always done, and always gotten away with in sex until Brendan is the fact that I always either close my eyes, or even better get sex from behind that way I don't have to make eye contact and my face is covered. I'd rather the guy fucking me sees my ass and not my face, but that's not gonna work with Brendan. I told him fine, he's gonna have to be patient and work with me, which he is.
Still, this is only cyber as far as I'm concerned because I'm not going to ASSume he's gonna fly here or put up the money again to fly me to Dublin. So cyber it is and even that is good practice communicating. I got all kinds of silly, superficial issues that cropped up after I got clean that I never really knew the depth of until the chemicals ceased for a while. Fuck, I only hope I can drag my ass out of whatever trouble there is with work and all this other bullshit...the piles of bills, the phone calls, ect. I try to have as few responsibilities as possible because I find them to be a burden.
Yesterday was officially the start of my much needed "vacation." So, this week only, I get Mon off without having to work Tuesday, then get Wed and go back to work late Thurs night. I HAD to fix it so there was plenty of time for me and my chemicals without the irritating interruption from work every Tuesday or some dumb ass responsibility on Wednesday. My ass was worn out Monday, so when I came home from work I crashed for about 12 hrs. I got up, had my one meal, talked to Mom a bit. She's still questioning me how the detox from the Tramadol is going, but I've told her before I'm not even bothering with those anymore. I'm taking the real painkillers. I tend to go through about 45 pills a week and I'm lucky my Doc authorizes that.
As for the meth, well, it didn't take long for a $20 bag every week to turn into $40 or $60 bag last two weeks. The thing is that back in 2006 I used to be able to get a whole teenager for $70 or $80, but now that same teenager costs $140 or $130. So $60 is more like 3/4 gram so that's my habit right there. As I said before, I'm amazed in some ways how meth GIVES a shitload of energy, while simaltaneously sucking it right out of you. That's what's getting me in trouble already. It's simply too damn hard to keep up with a full time job that does NOT have 2 days off in a row, plus whatever other bullshit I'm supposed to be doing. I've pretty much taken a 6 week vacation from certain bullshit.
So after the dope is gone tomorrow, the plan is to go buy those damn expensive supplements because I have no choice now BUT to take a vacation from meth. Besides being debilitating in some aspects, it's too damned expensive. I only hope I can get through this without too much fatigue and overall feeling like crap. My tickets from Erik arrived yesterday, thank you baby boy. I'm debating if tomorrow is the day to take this trip or not. The other thing is that while Erik mentioned there were 2 double hits of acid, I only saw one paper. I didn't want to tear open the microscopic sized baggie until I am actually ready to take it in order to keep it fresh. So, I guess I should definitely only take 1/2 of the paper, as I don't want to do 4 hits all at once.
I'm amazed at how damn fast vacation time speeds by. Work called 3 times today and I didn't want to talk to them. By the 2nd call, I reluctantly picked up and it was a woman wanting to know if I was going to be at my shift on Tuesday, today, and I said no I cleared that day off over 3 weeks ago with this dude in the office AND told the family like 3 times. So she said, ok, then they will have to work it out. Fine. They called back again, as well as the family, and I said oh hell, no way am I picking up. I hope I don't get into trouble, but no way was I gonna be talked into working, and besides that, I certainly wasn't sober, so no way in HELL was I gonna even attempt that. Meth would be the perfect drug to do as a retiree, I swear. Old folks have it fuckin made. They don't have to answer to a job, and unlike most people I'm perfectly capable of keeping myself quite amused and occupied with no job to go to.
I hope the goddamned food cravings are not gonna bite me in the ass 90 times a day, or if so, am able to just eat 3 small meals a day and that's it. That would enable me to maintain the weight loss. Otherwise, it will be like Aimee said, that I will need to do meth for a little at a time in order to keep it off. Mom flat out asked me last night, "You're not doing meth to cut your appetite are you?" Same answer every time. "No." "Then what are you doing to lose weight?" "What do you mean what am I doing? You know. I threw away all the snacks in my room, plus going through W/Ds does not help. It sucks all the joy out of wanting to eat." Actually that's the truth. When cutting the Tramadol, not only could I not get enthused about anything to save my life, but got no pleasure out of eating whatsoever. Food just didn't taste good.
Was up late last night of course, spent some time on the Meth Slammers group, for some reason yahoo didn't bother deleting that or the Crystal Princess group, the 2 I cared about the least. So I posted old stories and poems, as even on meth the writer's block never went away. I can't write poetry, haven't been able to ever since I got clean damn it. I doubt I'll ever get it back, so I can only make do with what I can do which are stories, essays, and journaling. And porn. Haha. It was nice to get Erik's ok about the cyber and porn writing, because while I do want to do it, I don't want to hurt his feelings either. He encouraged me, and lord knows I do have plenty of THAT, but haven't published it yet.
So, I don't know, I'm nervous about how all my shit's gonna turn out. Kicking even with supplements is EXTREMELY unpleasant plus I'm worried about my money situation. Same old bullshit. Now I'm at a mental tug of war again at times. Stay clean or get loaded? Getting loaded on a schedule is the most practical answer, but it's sure as shit not always easy to do, no matter what the intentions are, but I'm gonna have to. Either that or stop completely again. To be honest, I don't think that will happen any time soon, so the schedule is the practical way to go. I do know this. It's a lot easier to stay off meth than it is to get off meth. It's the getting that's a real giant pain in the ass, but the physical exhaustion is reason in itself to force me to do so after this baggie is out. If I feel the time is right, I'll take a trip tomorrow and hope to harness in some Divine Strength to do what I need to do. I'm in a mess all over again and it sucks.
As for the meth, well, it didn't take long for a $20 bag every week to turn into $40 or $60 bag last two weeks. The thing is that back in 2006 I used to be able to get a whole teenager for $70 or $80, but now that same teenager costs $140 or $130. So $60 is more like 3/4 gram so that's my habit right there. As I said before, I'm amazed in some ways how meth GIVES a shitload of energy, while simaltaneously sucking it right out of you. That's what's getting me in trouble already. It's simply too damn hard to keep up with a full time job that does NOT have 2 days off in a row, plus whatever other bullshit I'm supposed to be doing. I've pretty much taken a 6 week vacation from certain bullshit.
So after the dope is gone tomorrow, the plan is to go buy those damn expensive supplements because I have no choice now BUT to take a vacation from meth. Besides being debilitating in some aspects, it's too damned expensive. I only hope I can get through this without too much fatigue and overall feeling like crap. My tickets from Erik arrived yesterday, thank you baby boy. I'm debating if tomorrow is the day to take this trip or not. The other thing is that while Erik mentioned there were 2 double hits of acid, I only saw one paper. I didn't want to tear open the microscopic sized baggie until I am actually ready to take it in order to keep it fresh. So, I guess I should definitely only take 1/2 of the paper, as I don't want to do 4 hits all at once.
I'm amazed at how damn fast vacation time speeds by. Work called 3 times today and I didn't want to talk to them. By the 2nd call, I reluctantly picked up and it was a woman wanting to know if I was going to be at my shift on Tuesday, today, and I said no I cleared that day off over 3 weeks ago with this dude in the office AND told the family like 3 times. So she said, ok, then they will have to work it out. Fine. They called back again, as well as the family, and I said oh hell, no way am I picking up. I hope I don't get into trouble, but no way was I gonna be talked into working, and besides that, I certainly wasn't sober, so no way in HELL was I gonna even attempt that. Meth would be the perfect drug to do as a retiree, I swear. Old folks have it fuckin made. They don't have to answer to a job, and unlike most people I'm perfectly capable of keeping myself quite amused and occupied with no job to go to.
I hope the goddamned food cravings are not gonna bite me in the ass 90 times a day, or if so, am able to just eat 3 small meals a day and that's it. That would enable me to maintain the weight loss. Otherwise, it will be like Aimee said, that I will need to do meth for a little at a time in order to keep it off. Mom flat out asked me last night, "You're not doing meth to cut your appetite are you?" Same answer every time. "No." "Then what are you doing to lose weight?" "What do you mean what am I doing? You know. I threw away all the snacks in my room, plus going through W/Ds does not help. It sucks all the joy out of wanting to eat." Actually that's the truth. When cutting the Tramadol, not only could I not get enthused about anything to save my life, but got no pleasure out of eating whatsoever. Food just didn't taste good.
Was up late last night of course, spent some time on the Meth Slammers group, for some reason yahoo didn't bother deleting that or the Crystal Princess group, the 2 I cared about the least. So I posted old stories and poems, as even on meth the writer's block never went away. I can't write poetry, haven't been able to ever since I got clean damn it. I doubt I'll ever get it back, so I can only make do with what I can do which are stories, essays, and journaling. And porn. Haha. It was nice to get Erik's ok about the cyber and porn writing, because while I do want to do it, I don't want to hurt his feelings either. He encouraged me, and lord knows I do have plenty of THAT, but haven't published it yet.
So, I don't know, I'm nervous about how all my shit's gonna turn out. Kicking even with supplements is EXTREMELY unpleasant plus I'm worried about my money situation. Same old bullshit. Now I'm at a mental tug of war again at times. Stay clean or get loaded? Getting loaded on a schedule is the most practical answer, but it's sure as shit not always easy to do, no matter what the intentions are, but I'm gonna have to. Either that or stop completely again. To be honest, I don't think that will happen any time soon, so the schedule is the practical way to go. I do know this. It's a lot easier to stay off meth than it is to get off meth. It's the getting that's a real giant pain in the ass, but the physical exhaustion is reason in itself to force me to do so after this baggie is out. If I feel the time is right, I'll take a trip tomorrow and hope to harness in some Divine Strength to do what I need to do. I'm in a mess all over again and it sucks.
I wonder how big the hard drive was on the mech suits they use on FF3(the american FF3)
I remember feeling good.
I remember confidence.
I remember being respected.
I remember respecting myself.
I remember the comfort of money.
What have I done?
I remember confidence.
I remember being respected.
I remember respecting myself.
I remember the comfort of money.
What have I done?
So I finally finished my last final. I think I did.. eh, ok.
I got super hammered last night after I finished my last test. Luckily so did the rest of the 1L class so I'm thinking my drunkenness might be forgotten.
I managed to fall face-forward on the downward iced wheelchair ramp at my apartment building. Seth said it was one of the worst falls he's ever seen. Pure banana slip style, failing to put my hands out to stop the rest of my body hitting. Somehow I didn't get terribly hurt. Just scratched face, hand, knee and a skinned shoulder.
Ah, well, back to doing nothing. :D
I got super hammered last night after I finished my last test. Luckily so did the rest of the 1L class so I'm thinking my drunkenness might be forgotten.
I managed to fall face-forward on the downward iced wheelchair ramp at my apartment building. Seth said it was one of the worst falls he's ever seen. Pure banana slip style, failing to put my hands out to stop the rest of my body hitting. Somehow I didn't get terribly hurt. Just scratched face, hand, knee and a skinned shoulder.
Ah, well, back to doing nothing. :D
Since my last post things have necessarily calmed down a bit and I am grateful although still a bit stressed but otherwise somewhat calm.
Kristen sensing impending financial doom is sound asleep somewhere in the back of my mind letting me work steadily and consistently for the past 3 days. I'm still medicated but at the very lowest dose possible. A good parasite knows not to kill its host.
Oh, happy mothers day by the way. Congratulations on your ability to produce human larvae which I'm sure will grow up to be fine upstanding citizens. I wonder if there is a mothers day for fish or kangaroos or viruses that produce offspring in the millions? Kristen's mom was very happy with the flowers she sent and probably by now watching some sitcom. Television, the true opiate of the masses. She produced an outstanding creature, she deserves them.
Okay, so the poll was totally serious (other than the four option which makes Kristen smile) and if you know about guns PLEASE give me some advise by either voting or leaving me a comment sending me an email. While half of me was refined by Beverly Hills finest, I live in a very different neighborhood. I am no stranger to guns but handguns are not my area of expertise. I did however do a bit of research and narrowed it down to those two models. I even went to the store and handled about 20 different makes/models and liked the Glock for its light weight( I have arms like an anorexic supermodel) and reputation of being reliable. 9mm is good stopping power without the recoil of a larger shell. I also know Glock is the choice for law enforcement and has a 17 round clip (which must be modified to 10 rounds in California). Why do I need a gun? Why not? Kristen has survived a home invasion once and now sleeps on the verge of waking. So over coffee one morning we debated...
Kristen: Hey, lets go buy a gun.
kristen: huh?
Kristen: Remember the shit that went down before. I haven't slept well since that night.
kristen: Bullshit Kristen. We are drugged into oblivion each night. The only reason you wake up is cause you need more junk.
Kristen: Your sound asleep but I'm always awake listening and waiting...
kristen: So the Gated entrance, the double steel reinforced doors, the motion detectors and the video camera's just are not enough, eh?
Kristen: Not to me.
kristen: Alright, fuck it. (looks up gun dealers on web)
Kristen: Laser sight. Fixed sights are no good in darkness.
kristen: Right. Would you like to up-size your order with a side of grenades for an extra 50 cents? Jesus, Kristen.
Kristen: You have enough narcotics to drug a small country and enough expensive tech to make this place a target.
kristen: welcome to the jungle.
Kristen: Fun and games.
kristen: Ok, Ok, what about a week ago when we on the very edge of psychosis from what you decided was a needed 'phet mission' and ended up paranoid, seeing spiders scurrying around our desk, and those goddamn shadow people (side note - many people on amp for extended periods bordering on temporary psychosis see the "shadow people", there should be a wiki on it). So given that do you think its wise we have firearms?
Kristen: I TOLD you to ignore that shit, didn't I?
It's strange and maybe appropriate being mothers day but when my grandmother died a few years ago I felt nothing. She was schizophrenic and my whole life she was so heavily drugged that she really was not there. As I kid I never really understood what her 'reality' was when she was not drugged into being zombie and so I had no feeling toward it or toward her death since there was no real communication. But in the dark and disturbing hours that passed where I think Kristen did take me over that line for a little while and where I was not completely in reality I suddenly realized what life must have been like for her. Hearing sounds and not knowing if they are real or imagined, seeing things appear out of nothing and disappear as fast, the paranoia, the feeling of being watched while alone, the terrifying idea that this state might persist and I would not return. And finally, the realization that reality is an illusion of stability that can falter at any moment. For the first time in my life I actually felt very very sad for her, a life spend in that place where nothing is what it seems.
I'm sipping my liquid crack (starbucks - 4shots - venti) and looking at my production schedule again...
originally posted here:
http://kristenincontrol.blogspot.com/2009/05/mothers-daze-and-liquid-crack.html
5/10/2009
I’m back on the oh so intense meth a coaster, full force. A lot has happened, but I panicked when I saw I was almost out and wouldn’t have any for MY time, no work Mon-Thurs night next week. I ended up doing a little here or a little there either to stay awake, avoid W/D’s, or simply because I felt cheated not having my lousy 1 ½ days off for me and not having to dick around with irritating responsibilities and answer to my damn mom. I’m tired of hearing her say repeatedly how I haven’t been myself the last 6 wks or so. If I’m at Aimee’s she gets in my face. If I stay home in my room and not go out, she gets in my face because I’m “not myself.”
When doing meth and having to keep up a job, that’s about all I can focus my energy on because while it DOES give energy, it sucks it right out of you too. So, this means I take a lot of “me” time, as much as I can get away with. I don’t bother her or get in her face, but she says I must be back on the shit when she comes back into my room with what little time to myself I have wanting me to do some irritating errand or whatever. Fuck. It’s not like I get to stay home on my ass doing nothing but tweek and write 24/7. I see her point of view, but do not try forcing an intervention on me, unless she’s willing to pay for detox and let me slide on ½ month’s rent for the time missed from work.
I’m enjoying my time, but I need to take a break after my vacation off work next week. Every day I get on the scale, 2 or 3 more lbs have decreased. I’m now at 195 lbs and everyone has commented on what a hot new body I have. That’s ironic considering all the years in my 30’s, especially when there were no speed sources for 4 years, I leveled out at 189 lbs, and suffered tremendously from self body hatred, every bit as much as when I weighed 240 lbs. Like Aimee said last night, I don’t care how clean I was, I was still fucked up health wise, couldn’t move, my feet hurt walking, exercise/walking was a chore, and I’ll never forget how goddamned humiliating I felt when at 7 months clean, I was too fat to be able to get on a ride at Knott’s Berry Farm.
I think I was a size 22 then, I’m now at a size 16 and after being at that other weight monstrosity, I’ll be 4ever grateful 2 remain at my present weight cause I love the fact that even though I’m middle aged, there are the beginnings of age lines in my face, I’ve got grey hairs comin in at the temples and back of neck, I’m now near sighted and require reading glasses, AND I’m overweight to boot, I’ve never felt sexier and happier with my body than I do now. I’m still sexy and pretty when I dress it up right and for the first time since getting clean, the self body hatred is gone at last. I’m middle aged and love what I see when I look in the mirror, so most of my issues revolved around the ability to change my mind, than to obsess over changing my body or external circumstances.
I love the writing. I love the time with Aimee, Linda, and the gang. I love the fact I’m beginning to explore and be ok with my new sexuality, even if it is only celibacy for the rest of my life. Shyness is an obstacle that is a long process to overcome, but I’ve managed in some ways. Other areas I blew chunks, for example I kept getting flipping pissed because I was forced to have to go to work last 3 nights, 4 including tonight. Since I panicked about running out of meth, I called in to work late (haven’t been late in 3 yrs) I get all sorts of shit from the family, so I pointed out the fact that I don’t do this shit all the time, my car was not there, my friend had to drive me to work, which was true. What happened, and yeah it’s my fault totally, but I HAD to go see Don to get him started on scorin me more dope so I’d have it the next morning after work. Long story short, Don kept insisting it would only take a few minutes, it took way fucking longer, then the panic attacks started, fuck.
My car is perfectly legal, I called in let work know what was going on instead of merely shining them on like I did in the past, but the nervous tension and angst got to me and therefore there was no way in hell I was gonna drive. I couldn’t because I’d get panic attacks. Don was way late, I paid Aimee to drive me to work and pick me up the next morning. That way I don’t have to trip over driving plus my car wasn’t parked at work, the people could see I had to find another way to get to work. I HATED those panic attacks and that reminded me I never want to go through that bullshit again, although that’s the thing with dope. It’s sometimes a catch 22, meaning if I DIDN’T score that night, then with my luck I’d be stuck with W/D’s all next week.
After next week, I guess the only thing I can do is once again, load up on all the supplements from the Naturopath, start the walks daily while taking them, which will take away about ½ of the W/D’s from meth. It’s going to probably take a couple weeks at least, then go about the business of trying to temper slowly reducing the painkillers too. The final challenge will be to get rid of that motherfucking food demon once and for all in the absence of meth. I’m perfectly happy staying at THIS weight forever, only fuck gaining back any more weight all to hell. So, I need the obsession with overeating to be permanently deleted from my brain. So, yeah while the drugs are so much fun, I can’t go through this whole charade of paranoia and panic attacks simply because there are 2 many responsibilities, but not enough time off. That is specifically why I decided to give myself a break next week 4 wks ago. The thing that sucks though is that when I’m high on meth, I don’t want to waste it on dumb shit like unwanted responsibilities, but when I’m goin through W/D’s I sure as hell don’t want to deal with any bullshit then either.
So, fuck I just want this crap to end. I was touched and grateful to Erik for trying to help, he said tickets are on the way, bless his heart. If it is at all possible, I will harness whatever Universal Power on the LSD trip to not only grant me insight, but the ability to apply what insight I gained while on the trip. It gets so damn frustrating operating on nothing but my own power limited by my undisciplined mind and body, so freaken God please help me cause I don’t want to continue fucking up for good. I know it can’t go on, so something has to give, and for that to happen I’m going to need help and energy from the Divine Source.
I’m back on the oh so intense meth a coaster, full force. A lot has happened, but I panicked when I saw I was almost out and wouldn’t have any for MY time, no work Mon-Thurs night next week. I ended up doing a little here or a little there either to stay awake, avoid W/D’s, or simply because I felt cheated not having my lousy 1 ½ days off for me and not having to dick around with irritating responsibilities and answer to my damn mom. I’m tired of hearing her say repeatedly how I haven’t been myself the last 6 wks or so. If I’m at Aimee’s she gets in my face. If I stay home in my room and not go out, she gets in my face because I’m “not myself.”
When doing meth and having to keep up a job, that’s about all I can focus my energy on because while it DOES give energy, it sucks it right out of you too. So, this means I take a lot of “me” time, as much as I can get away with. I don’t bother her or get in her face, but she says I must be back on the shit when she comes back into my room with what little time to myself I have wanting me to do some irritating errand or whatever. Fuck. It’s not like I get to stay home on my ass doing nothing but tweek and write 24/7. I see her point of view, but do not try forcing an intervention on me, unless she’s willing to pay for detox and let me slide on ½ month’s rent for the time missed from work.
I’m enjoying my time, but I need to take a break after my vacation off work next week. Every day I get on the scale, 2 or 3 more lbs have decreased. I’m now at 195 lbs and everyone has commented on what a hot new body I have. That’s ironic considering all the years in my 30’s, especially when there were no speed sources for 4 years, I leveled out at 189 lbs, and suffered tremendously from self body hatred, every bit as much as when I weighed 240 lbs. Like Aimee said last night, I don’t care how clean I was, I was still fucked up health wise, couldn’t move, my feet hurt walking, exercise/walking was a chore, and I’ll never forget how goddamned humiliating I felt when at 7 months clean, I was too fat to be able to get on a ride at Knott’s Berry Farm.
I think I was a size 22 then, I’m now at a size 16 and after being at that other weight monstrosity, I’ll be 4ever grateful 2 remain at my present weight cause I love the fact that even though I’m middle aged, there are the beginnings of age lines in my face, I’ve got grey hairs comin in at the temples and back of neck, I’m now near sighted and require reading glasses, AND I’m overweight to boot, I’ve never felt sexier and happier with my body than I do now. I’m still sexy and pretty when I dress it up right and for the first time since getting clean, the self body hatred is gone at last. I’m middle aged and love what I see when I look in the mirror, so most of my issues revolved around the ability to change my mind, than to obsess over changing my body or external circumstances.
I love the writing. I love the time with Aimee, Linda, and the gang. I love the fact I’m beginning to explore and be ok with my new sexuality, even if it is only celibacy for the rest of my life. Shyness is an obstacle that is a long process to overcome, but I’ve managed in some ways. Other areas I blew chunks, for example I kept getting flipping pissed because I was forced to have to go to work last 3 nights, 4 including tonight. Since I panicked about running out of meth, I called in to work late (haven’t been late in 3 yrs) I get all sorts of shit from the family, so I pointed out the fact that I don’t do this shit all the time, my car was not there, my friend had to drive me to work, which was true. What happened, and yeah it’s my fault totally, but I HAD to go see Don to get him started on scorin me more dope so I’d have it the next morning after work. Long story short, Don kept insisting it would only take a few minutes, it took way fucking longer, then the panic attacks started, fuck.
My car is perfectly legal, I called in let work know what was going on instead of merely shining them on like I did in the past, but the nervous tension and angst got to me and therefore there was no way in hell I was gonna drive. I couldn’t because I’d get panic attacks. Don was way late, I paid Aimee to drive me to work and pick me up the next morning. That way I don’t have to trip over driving plus my car wasn’t parked at work, the people could see I had to find another way to get to work. I HATED those panic attacks and that reminded me I never want to go through that bullshit again, although that’s the thing with dope. It’s sometimes a catch 22, meaning if I DIDN’T score that night, then with my luck I’d be stuck with W/D’s all next week.
After next week, I guess the only thing I can do is once again, load up on all the supplements from the Naturopath, start the walks daily while taking them, which will take away about ½ of the W/D’s from meth. It’s going to probably take a couple weeks at least, then go about the business of trying to temper slowly reducing the painkillers too. The final challenge will be to get rid of that motherfucking food demon once and for all in the absence of meth. I’m perfectly happy staying at THIS weight forever, only fuck gaining back any more weight all to hell. So, I need the obsession with overeating to be permanently deleted from my brain. So, yeah while the drugs are so much fun, I can’t go through this whole charade of paranoia and panic attacks simply because there are 2 many responsibilities, but not enough time off. That is specifically why I decided to give myself a break next week 4 wks ago. The thing that sucks though is that when I’m high on meth, I don’t want to waste it on dumb shit like unwanted responsibilities, but when I’m goin through W/D’s I sure as hell don’t want to deal with any bullshit then either.
So, fuck I just want this crap to end. I was touched and grateful to Erik for trying to help, he said tickets are on the way, bless his heart. If it is at all possible, I will harness whatever Universal Power on the LSD trip to not only grant me insight, but the ability to apply what insight I gained while on the trip. It gets so damn frustrating operating on nothing but my own power limited by my undisciplined mind and body, so freaken God please help me cause I don’t want to continue fucking up for good. I know it can’t go on, so something has to give, and for that to happen I’m going to need help and energy from the Divine Source.
Lately I've been feeling really self-reflexive, and while it can be useful at times I get worried that I will withdraw too much. However, I do tend to learn something whenever I get this way.
For example, lately things have been a bit weird at work. Nothing bad really, although things seem to be heading a bit south as far as the major project is going. But little things are bugging me, like how my coworkers react to me, how I react to them, and how they interact without me. It's probably my social paranoia acting up again, but sometimes I feel like they're just getting ready to get rid of me. Which is silly, since I'm the only chemist there who is 'comfortable' with trying to solve chemical problems.
But why am I doing this? As in why am I a chemist? I got onto this path through my fascination with psychopharmacology, both recreational and therapeutic. After trying to get a degree in the field, I found out really early that biology is not my thing. Fair enough. But chemistry was amazing. First it was mostly just the synthetic side of things that I loved, but eventually I learned to adore the theoretical end as well. My appetite for learning new things was growing, and yet was always near-sated.
Then I started working. I don't use anything past 2nd year analytical chem. The reactions that I perform on a daily basis could be done by a mid-level high-school student. Yet I still enjoy being able to solve problems. Sure, I wish that I had the chance to play with more complex apparatus, or perform more involved, multi-step syntheses. But I suppose this is okay for now.
My restaurant idea has been pushed to the back burner of late, but having met with my friend S on Tuesday I realized that I have still been thinking about it. I happened across a show on the Food Network a couple of weeks ago that involved a fellow who at one point ran a small restaurant entirely by himself. He did the prep, took reservations, cooked, tended bar, bussed, served, did the dishes, everything. The latent (but getting louder) control freak in me really dug this, and the challenge of it would be amazing. Plus I could cook whatever I wanted whenever I wanted; the idea of such a small restaurant is that the menu would be constantly changing, so I could always be playing. Such fun!
But at the same time it would be really hard to pull in a good living doing just that. Only serving 20-30 dinners in a busy night just won't cut it. So that has to go even further on the back burner, for after I have a successful larger restaurant.
Or maybe not. In the right location and with the right marketing I might be able to pull it off. Maybe not here though. Man I'm indecisive.
For example, lately things have been a bit weird at work. Nothing bad really, although things seem to be heading a bit south as far as the major project is going. But little things are bugging me, like how my coworkers react to me, how I react to them, and how they interact without me. It's probably my social paranoia acting up again, but sometimes I feel like they're just getting ready to get rid of me. Which is silly, since I'm the only chemist there who is 'comfortable' with trying to solve chemical problems.
But why am I doing this? As in why am I a chemist? I got onto this path through my fascination with psychopharmacology, both recreational and therapeutic. After trying to get a degree in the field, I found out really early that biology is not my thing. Fair enough. But chemistry was amazing. First it was mostly just the synthetic side of things that I loved, but eventually I learned to adore the theoretical end as well. My appetite for learning new things was growing, and yet was always near-sated.
Then I started working. I don't use anything past 2nd year analytical chem. The reactions that I perform on a daily basis could be done by a mid-level high-school student. Yet I still enjoy being able to solve problems. Sure, I wish that I had the chance to play with more complex apparatus, or perform more involved, multi-step syntheses. But I suppose this is okay for now.
My restaurant idea has been pushed to the back burner of late, but having met with my friend S on Tuesday I realized that I have still been thinking about it. I happened across a show on the Food Network a couple of weeks ago that involved a fellow who at one point ran a small restaurant entirely by himself. He did the prep, took reservations, cooked, tended bar, bussed, served, did the dishes, everything. The latent (but getting louder) control freak in me really dug this, and the challenge of it would be amazing. Plus I could cook whatever I wanted whenever I wanted; the idea of such a small restaurant is that the menu would be constantly changing, so I could always be playing. Such fun!
But at the same time it would be really hard to pull in a good living doing just that. Only serving 20-30 dinners in a busy night just won't cut it. So that has to go even further on the back burner, for after I have a successful larger restaurant.
Or maybe not. In the right location and with the right marketing I might be able to pull it off. Maybe not here though. Man I'm indecisive.
it was teacher appreciation week at work and lots of kids brought in presents for us. one child was super excited to give me her present. there was some soap all nicely wrapped up but that wasn't what she was so excited to give me. also inside was a pink paint swatch which was what she and her little sister picked out all by themselves. the child was so proud and happy and convinced that she picked the perfect pinks to give me all by herself.
its silly little things like that which keep me from quitting my job
its silly little things like that which keep me from quitting my job
I am back on smokes more than ever. Like 1-2 packs a day and of many brands.
Have packs of newports, parliament lights, camel lights, camel unfiltered, camel crush, marlboro "reds", two types of djarum clove cigs, a bag of roll your own, and a bag of pipe tobacco w/ pipe. I smoke all of these daily and have been for the past month since i relapsed.
I am finally able to go to a bar and socialize without having nothing to do half the time if i am not drinking. My social life is better than its been in a while. Ive met tons of new people. But a feel like a piece of shit, and worse perhaps is that i feel like shit from the cigs. Even though i love them i know how much better my body feels without them.
During an anxious comedown from some L, in a tent, i once wrote in anguish "why do we do this to ourselves?"
Thats how i feel. Weak! But i love to smoke...
arggg time to light up another
Have packs of newports, parliament lights, camel lights, camel unfiltered, camel crush, marlboro "reds", two types of djarum clove cigs, a bag of roll your own, and a bag of pipe tobacco w/ pipe. I smoke all of these daily and have been for the past month since i relapsed.
I am finally able to go to a bar and socialize without having nothing to do half the time if i am not drinking. My social life is better than its been in a while. Ive met tons of new people. But a feel like a piece of shit, and worse perhaps is that i feel like shit from the cigs. Even though i love them i know how much better my body feels without them.
During an anxious comedown from some L, in a tent, i once wrote in anguish "why do we do this to ourselves?"
Thats how i feel. Weak! But i love to smoke...
arggg time to light up another
Since I've been in such a mire of chaos - cultureshock/reverse-cultureshock, physical illness, opiate withdrawal (followed by relapse), a thousand demands from capitalist life, extreme snow, flooding rain, and summer temperatures all in one month, parental problems, loneliness.... and I lost count - I wonder how I manage to stay sane. Well I do, by taking my prescribed Gabapentin, as well as smallish doses of codeine and wearing nicotine patches. I shit you not.
I plan to phase out the codeine for obvious reasons.
However, in short, I've been falling into a slump, and a very unhealthy one.
---
Now to the meat of the matter.
40 is a number that is, in many cultures (including the one I was born into), associated with transformation, particularly of the self.
Therefore, I have decided that, for 40 days, I will do whatever I can to make my days productive.
Today I went for an interview for a volunteer position for the Canadian Cross Cultural Learner centre for a position which I got (however, it officially starts after I attend orientation, a month from now). Still, it is a success.
I also handed out a resume - the best one I made yet - to a local Costco. I am actually feeling accomplished simply by the fact that I did all the resume stuff and actually went ahead and handed it in, since this part was excruciatingly difficult for me.
I also did work around the house to help me mom.
As well, I made some progress fixing my dad's computer.
I also mailed out a book that I sold on ebay (YAY!)
I will be going to excercise shortly.
Yesterday I made lots of important phone calls and I finalized my application to attend college in September by accepting their offer of admission. I also applied for their entrance bursary *fingers crossed*, and I went for a drive to practise my driving skills for the licensing exam.
Wish me luck with my 40-day challenge. All these little things seem so simple and mundane, but for my state of mind, they are glorious triumphs.
I plan to phase out the codeine for obvious reasons.
However, in short, I've been falling into a slump, and a very unhealthy one.
---
Now to the meat of the matter.
40 is a number that is, in many cultures (including the one I was born into), associated with transformation, particularly of the self.
Therefore, I have decided that, for 40 days, I will do whatever I can to make my days productive.
Today I went for an interview for a volunteer position for the Canadian Cross Cultural Learner centre for a position which I got (however, it officially starts after I attend orientation, a month from now). Still, it is a success.
I also handed out a resume - the best one I made yet - to a local Costco. I am actually feeling accomplished simply by the fact that I did all the resume stuff and actually went ahead and handed it in, since this part was excruciatingly difficult for me.
I also did work around the house to help me mom.
As well, I made some progress fixing my dad's computer.
I also mailed out a book that I sold on ebay (YAY!)
I will be going to excercise shortly.
Yesterday I made lots of important phone calls and I finalized my application to attend college in September by accepting their offer of admission. I also applied for their entrance bursary *fingers crossed*, and I went for a drive to practise my driving skills for the licensing exam.
Wish me luck with my 40-day challenge
. All these little things seem so simple and mundane, but for my state of mind, they are glorious triumphs. 
I managed to make it to work last night sans event. I ended up doing just a small amount in order to stay awake, but not enough to get loaded. This week everything got all fucked up with my schedule. Normally, I have my Wed and Thurs days off, then go 2 work Thur evening. Due to the car and my dental surgery, the cursed responsibilities of life cut into my party time. When I'm chemmed for fun, I need to have all day Wed and Thur to be left the fuck alone to do absolutely nothing BUT enjoy my chemicals and the fruits of said chemicals, such as writing or talking to friends. Anyway, so sister Crystal cut in to the work time, although as I said, not in a "let's tweek and fuck off all responsibilities including work" time.
No way, more like insurance against falling asleep or becoming that apathetic fucking zoned out creature that feels worse than death that results when W/D's start to plant themselves in my head and in my face. God PLEASE anything BUT that! Even horrific depression like the last few days are 100 times more preferable than feeling the way I do from never ending Tramadol W/D's. The only thing that really sucks, is that, like I said in my infamous book "Turbo and Spice," when on the crystal chems, time literally feels like it's being put on one giant ass fast forward, moving at the speed of tweek. It's great when there are no jobs, no responsibilities, or irritating ass obligations lurking like an unwanted vampire, suckin away party time and rearing it's ugly annoying demands of responsibility some people call life.
I have no problem working for a living, although I do tend towards being a romantic dreamer, living the life of one big giant fairy tale and party. If I could of gotten away with that all the time, then you can bet that's just what I'd be doing. Writing, partying, loving life, drifting from place to place one minute to the next, keeping company with myself or other junkies and drifters that are just like or a lot like me. We have fun, have a ball, laugh, hug, joke, party the night away, but when it comes to staying focused and committed to real hard work that requires effort to accomplish, more often than not, dope fiends and drifters don't bother with. Let's get our dope, surround ourselves with Addict Assossiates, whoever happens to be conveniently nearby and fun at the moment, blast off to our respective hopes and dreams in our designated garage, back alley, or dope house, or broken down trailor truck, seeing the world, becoming the people we may think we want to be, right there in our minds at that place, at that time.
That in itself is our Magic Mountain, our prime rib, steak and lobster, our skydiving trips, our cross country motorcycle trips without ever having to step foot out of the garage. All we have to do is get chemmed up, chat each other up, that in itself is the dream, in place of the doing. Chems allow you the vacations, the mansions, the creativity, the education, whatever your heart's desire at the time, in the here and now, in a dirt poor environment, without a dime to your name. Chems take you to the magic bus in the sky via your mind and the amazing thing is, you NEVER get bored! So, don't think I meant to digress off on that subject, but I AM grateful for the care and concern shown to me by other heart blood friends and dope fiends, my ex sugar daddy and Erik aka Kupid, and of course my (thank God) not too distant girlfriends and fiends Aimee and Linda.
Jim and Erik are 10 times the shy person that I am, so I can only begin to imagine how difficult it is for them to express love, support, friendship especially without chems. Hell even with chems, Erik is shy, but like myself, get caught in the frustrating trap of shyness because it can be perceived of by others as indifference or snobbery, when that is FAR from the truth. I'm finding out that other people too sometimes have some of the same flaws that I have and that not everyone in the world except for me knows how to be socially comfortable around almost anyone. Hell, compared to a lot of people during my 2 years clean, I was able to reach out or reach back to someone trying to reach out and help ME. Yet, when faced with an akward situation of being told my brother's wife (a stranger to me) hates me, even with the best effort and intentions, I manage to fuck it all up.
Had I had a small buzz from 2 painkillers, a small line, or even a couple of beers, I would have been the person I want to be, that is me, but buried under self conscience useless bullshit. Aimee told me once that without chems she literally feels DIS eased. Not at ease. Chems somehow provide the social lubricant and for me mental stimulation as if I were in one big huge magic playground in the heavens, there's ALWAYS something to do that will light up my eyes just as when I was a child and everything was new for the first time. I've tried and tried to somehow get and keep that ability without any chemical help, but unfortunately, as I was told once at an NA meeting after I asked isn't there any way to retain the benefits of using while remaining clean and not having to use? Answer: That's like asking your ex husband for break up sex. Sure your pesky ex that gave the best sex ever will promise not to be controlling, manipulative, take over your life and sure you can have sex without the hassle of the marriage.
Not quite. You take the sex with the ex, next thing you know, he's camped out there, controlling and demanding as ever. So, if you want the milk, there's no way around the fact you have to take the whole fucking cow. Or neither.
No way, more like insurance against falling asleep or becoming that apathetic fucking zoned out creature that feels worse than death that results when W/D's start to plant themselves in my head and in my face. God PLEASE anything BUT that! Even horrific depression like the last few days are 100 times more preferable than feeling the way I do from never ending Tramadol W/D's. The only thing that really sucks, is that, like I said in my infamous book "Turbo and Spice," when on the crystal chems, time literally feels like it's being put on one giant ass fast forward, moving at the speed of tweek. It's great when there are no jobs, no responsibilities, or irritating ass obligations lurking like an unwanted vampire, suckin away party time and rearing it's ugly annoying demands of responsibility some people call life.
I have no problem working for a living, although I do tend towards being a romantic dreamer, living the life of one big giant fairy tale and party. If I could of gotten away with that all the time, then you can bet that's just what I'd be doing. Writing, partying, loving life, drifting from place to place one minute to the next, keeping company with myself or other junkies and drifters that are just like or a lot like me. We have fun, have a ball, laugh, hug, joke, party the night away, but when it comes to staying focused and committed to real hard work that requires effort to accomplish, more often than not, dope fiends and drifters don't bother with. Let's get our dope, surround ourselves with Addict Assossiates, whoever happens to be conveniently nearby and fun at the moment, blast off to our respective hopes and dreams in our designated garage, back alley, or dope house, or broken down trailor truck, seeing the world, becoming the people we may think we want to be, right there in our minds at that place, at that time.
That in itself is our Magic Mountain, our prime rib, steak and lobster, our skydiving trips, our cross country motorcycle trips without ever having to step foot out of the garage. All we have to do is get chemmed up, chat each other up, that in itself is the dream, in place of the doing. Chems allow you the vacations, the mansions, the creativity, the education, whatever your heart's desire at the time, in the here and now, in a dirt poor environment, without a dime to your name. Chems take you to the magic bus in the sky via your mind and the amazing thing is, you NEVER get bored! So, don't think I meant to digress off on that subject, but I AM grateful for the care and concern shown to me by other heart blood friends and dope fiends, my ex sugar daddy and Erik aka Kupid, and of course my (thank God) not too distant girlfriends and fiends Aimee and Linda.
Jim and Erik are 10 times the shy person that I am, so I can only begin to imagine how difficult it is for them to express love, support, friendship especially without chems. Hell even with chems, Erik is shy, but like myself, get caught in the frustrating trap of shyness because it can be perceived of by others as indifference or snobbery, when that is FAR from the truth. I'm finding out that other people too sometimes have some of the same flaws that I have and that not everyone in the world except for me knows how to be socially comfortable around almost anyone. Hell, compared to a lot of people during my 2 years clean, I was able to reach out or reach back to someone trying to reach out and help ME. Yet, when faced with an akward situation of being told my brother's wife (a stranger to me) hates me, even with the best effort and intentions, I manage to fuck it all up.
Had I had a small buzz from 2 painkillers, a small line, or even a couple of beers, I would have been the person I want to be, that is me, but buried under self conscience useless bullshit. Aimee told me once that without chems she literally feels DIS eased. Not at ease. Chems somehow provide the social lubricant and for me mental stimulation as if I were in one big huge magic playground in the heavens, there's ALWAYS something to do that will light up my eyes just as when I was a child and everything was new for the first time. I've tried and tried to somehow get and keep that ability without any chemical help, but unfortunately, as I was told once at an NA meeting after I asked isn't there any way to retain the benefits of using while remaining clean and not having to use? Answer: That's like asking your ex husband for break up sex. Sure your pesky ex that gave the best sex ever will promise not to be controlling, manipulative, take over your life and sure you can have sex without the hassle of the marriage.
Not quite. You take the sex with the ex, next thing you know, he's camped out there, controlling and demanding as ever. So, if you want the milk, there's no way around the fact you have to take the whole fucking cow. Or neither.
its weird seeing old posts of mine bumped back to the top.
as i mentioned in a thread, i used to be far more open on here than i am now. so its interesting to read back thru what i posted here, as opposed to now. for the first few years i was a member here, BL and real life was separated. now they are pretty intertwined. and i wonder what people (who i now know in real life) would think if they read some of the stuff that has been bumped.
oddly enough, there is a thread where someone asked a question similar to what i mentioned above and i said that it would not matter. while i am not all that worried about these old posts, i am a wee curious if anyone will read them and rethink how they view me.
as i mentioned in a thread, i used to be far more open on here than i am now. so its interesting to read back thru what i posted here, as opposed to now. for the first few years i was a member here, BL and real life was separated. now they are pretty intertwined. and i wonder what people (who i now know in real life) would think if they read some of the stuff that has been bumped.
oddly enough, there is a thread where someone asked a question similar to what i mentioned above and i said that it would not matter. while i am not all that worried about these old posts, i am a wee curious if anyone will read them and rethink how they view me.
So I've pretty much been stuck in hibernation mode since Tuesday. I actually did drive all the way out to where I usually work Tuesday, was going to see if I could get out of driving to some bum fuck hospital during the WORST traffic jams at 4pm. I fuckin would have been stuck in a literal stop and go for 75 minutes at least. I spoke to my patient's mom, not happy about going there, as actually I HATE going to strange places I've never been where there is tons of traffic AND at a busy ass facility too easy to get lost in. I get panic attacks unless I know exactly where I'm going or plan way ahead, know the address, know exactly where I'm supposed to park, blah blah.
So after I left Irivine, I went to Aimee's instead trying and hoping to get me something to wake me the fuck UP! As I walked into the garage, Aimee and Don were right in the middle of preparing their fix of heroin the way June Cleaver would have once upon a time been preparing lunch or dinner for her family, lol. They looked up, greeted me asked me what was up. Aimee commented I seemed full of angst and stressed out. "I've been off meth since Thursday, I sleep 8-10 hrs a day, yet I'm tired as fuck regardless, FUCK. It's this chronic fuckin fatigue nightmare all over again!," I said.
"Well here, have some of THIS," said Don holding out a handful of multicolored balloons. I groaned in disappointment. "Oh, right," I said with about as much enthusiasm as some Tsihisdic Princess asked about the proposition of sucking her newlywed husband's cock. "She said she needed to wake UP, Don not go to sleep," said Aimee. Thank you Aimee! Don called his connect, no answer, so he told me to drive him to barrioville anyway. "He won't get mad will he?," I asked. "Not at all," assured Don. I drove him the short distance, no connect, no home. "Fuck. How about after work?," I asked. "Sure, no problem," said Don.
I took 2 caffeine pills to help give me a tiny bit of animation, fuck this was rediculous. 3:30pm rolls around, Don decides to call the dude again, this time got lucky. I waited at Aimee's, took a while for Don to get back, but the shit was REAL good. Instead of shooting, I took several hits off a pipe, as I wanted to wake up only, not get spun off my mental capacity, errors I've made in the past. It was hotter than hell, my car was running a tad hot, so I had Don look up this hospital address and found not one but 3 fucking buildings. "You've GOT to be fucking kidding me!," I threw my hands up in exasperation. My choices were to pay Don to drop me off and wait for him to pick me up, which I HATE, or drive in the middle of a traffic's rat maze at the end of a work day, trying to locate where to park, then taking a shuttle to another building to wherever my patient was, sorry, no way, fuck this.
I called and said I wasn't gonna make it, too risky. So, that said and done, I ended up having a great time at Linda and Aimee's hardly touching my shit. Don's connect has WAY better stuff than Linda's, the only thing is I end up paying more for Don's. It was hotter than hell, one nice side effect of dope is that it gives me a much higher tolerance for discomfort, although I ended up showering there. I was STILL sweating like crazy along with everyone else. No fans or A/C in that house, even when they DO have them on, there are too many dope fiends going in and out of everywhere and Pluto to be effective, so I kept splashing cold water and wiping my face and neck down.
Different people come and go at Aimee and Linda's, some of them quite annoying at times. Although it's ok to do dope without fear of anyone walking in and screaming at you, as it would be if my Mom walked in on ME, Aimee and Linda have NO privacy whatsoever to their bedrooms. Linda's room has not one, but TWO doors that don't close all the way and lead to her bedroom so anyone walks in whenever they please. Aimee has the garage, but it's the same deal. Dope fiends, strangers and friends walk in any time unnanounced along with Linda's mom. There is no way in hell I could or would ever tolerate THAT. My whole life is about privacy practically, I've been accostomed to it my entire life.
Therefore, I've grown accostomed to having a needle in my arm and whoever barging in, usually some dope fiend I don't know or a member of the regular gang. There is also the issue of changing clothes, which I do a lot of at Aimee's. Therefore when strange guys walk in without knocking and I'm in the middle of changing in Aimee's room, I don't give it a second thought, and neither does the particular fiend that barges in, although usually they turn away and that's that. There was this one irritating guy named Ralph that gets on everyone's nerves when he's tweeked, but it's Aimee's room and I do what SHE says is or is not ok. Aimee and I have a very unusual relationship in that there is a lot of hugging, cuddling, and physical closeness, shit I don't have with anyone else, other than perhpas a sex partner, Erik who I haven't seen since 2005, or hugs from NA people, but even that's not the same.
Jail was the only other time and place it was socially acceptable to spoon with other women because they kept it so friggin COLD in there and they gave us short sleeve jumpsuits. I've done things with her I would never do with another girlfriend, but there are times when we both need a bit of comfort, but she at least has her boyfriend. So, Ralph was being annoying, and he thought it was very hinky when he saw Aimee lying down, her arm around me with my head on her breast for comfort. That's the second closest thing to physical love I've ever felt next to chemicals. Neither Aimee or I are gay or bisexual, although I'm sure since we are feminine, atrractive women, especially when we're dressed up, if we were, we'd not kick the other out of our bed.
I'm wired for heterosexuality, as is she, but I've always craved some sort of comfort from somewhere, someone. It makes me glad that I'm not a man in that respect because I lean on other women for emotional support, and sometimes Aimee for physical support. Ralph quit being irritating and left. I had a mother of a migraine for over 3 fucking days that would leave for 6 hrs after taking my painkillers, but come right back with a vengence. Then, when I got home Wednesday morning early, Mom was all suspicious and in my face, but I was in too much pain to deal, so I went to lie down for a couple hrs, then took my car to get serviced, waited 3 hrs, walked back in the heat to pick it up. I came home, laid down for 3 hrs, then had to go to the dentist for more damn oral surgery.
I arrived with a mother of a headache, but they got their surgery done in 2 hrs, were very nice. I didn't really have a full day off, my muscles are sore as fuck. I was still smartin from John Doe's comment, and who else can I talk to other than a girlfriend? Certainly NOT a guy. The whole thing with John Doe was I'd made a comment about trimming the rain forest around his pubic and stomach region. I honestly didn't say it in a mean way, but that was what the fuss was all about. I guess his wife doesn't give him oral sex, but for fuck's sake, it looked like a forest had taken up residence or something and I'm not fond of the idea of getting a wad of hair in my mouth, but mainly, I can't understand how someone that was smooth for so long, with age grows this hair, why they wouldn't want to feel their own skin, to SEE their own skin.
I guess he got a little bent. I apologized, what else could I do? I met this guy years ago that flew out from New York and we stayed in a motel for a week. Nice guy, we had a good time, but his back and ass were covered with thick hair and although I didn't say anything, I couldn't stand it. I felt like suggesting weed wacker or something, but it's not like I knew him well enough to do that without getting him offended. So, John Doe thinks I'm mean, but at least we ended our relationship on a civil note. I've had a mother of a time with depression past couple days, but writing helped, Aimee helped, my ex sugar daddy thinks I can work it out, but that's how I deal. Then Erik sent me a text that was soo sweet and unexpected. When I die, whoever finds my body will know that I onced loved a guy named Erik, enough to tattoo his name on my body, because he'll always be close to my heart no matter what happens. Love you baby. Fuck I'm late, I gotta get to work, fuck.
So after I left Irivine, I went to Aimee's instead trying and hoping to get me something to wake me the fuck UP! As I walked into the garage, Aimee and Don were right in the middle of preparing their fix of heroin the way June Cleaver would have once upon a time been preparing lunch or dinner for her family, lol. They looked up, greeted me asked me what was up. Aimee commented I seemed full of angst and stressed out. "I've been off meth since Thursday, I sleep 8-10 hrs a day, yet I'm tired as fuck regardless, FUCK. It's this chronic fuckin fatigue nightmare all over again!," I said.
"Well here, have some of THIS," said Don holding out a handful of multicolored balloons. I groaned in disappointment. "Oh, right," I said with about as much enthusiasm as some Tsihisdic Princess asked about the proposition of sucking her newlywed husband's cock. "She said she needed to wake UP, Don not go to sleep," said Aimee. Thank you Aimee! Don called his connect, no answer, so he told me to drive him to barrioville anyway. "He won't get mad will he?," I asked. "Not at all," assured Don. I drove him the short distance, no connect, no home. "Fuck. How about after work?," I asked. "Sure, no problem," said Don.
I took 2 caffeine pills to help give me a tiny bit of animation, fuck this was rediculous. 3:30pm rolls around, Don decides to call the dude again, this time got lucky. I waited at Aimee's, took a while for Don to get back, but the shit was REAL good. Instead of shooting, I took several hits off a pipe, as I wanted to wake up only, not get spun off my mental capacity, errors I've made in the past. It was hotter than hell, my car was running a tad hot, so I had Don look up this hospital address and found not one but 3 fucking buildings. "You've GOT to be fucking kidding me!," I threw my hands up in exasperation. My choices were to pay Don to drop me off and wait for him to pick me up, which I HATE, or drive in the middle of a traffic's rat maze at the end of a work day, trying to locate where to park, then taking a shuttle to another building to wherever my patient was, sorry, no way, fuck this.
I called and said I wasn't gonna make it, too risky. So, that said and done, I ended up having a great time at Linda and Aimee's hardly touching my shit. Don's connect has WAY better stuff than Linda's, the only thing is I end up paying more for Don's. It was hotter than hell, one nice side effect of dope is that it gives me a much higher tolerance for discomfort, although I ended up showering there. I was STILL sweating like crazy along with everyone else. No fans or A/C in that house, even when they DO have them on, there are too many dope fiends going in and out of everywhere and Pluto to be effective, so I kept splashing cold water and wiping my face and neck down.
Different people come and go at Aimee and Linda's, some of them quite annoying at times. Although it's ok to do dope without fear of anyone walking in and screaming at you, as it would be if my Mom walked in on ME, Aimee and Linda have NO privacy whatsoever to their bedrooms. Linda's room has not one, but TWO doors that don't close all the way and lead to her bedroom so anyone walks in whenever they please. Aimee has the garage, but it's the same deal. Dope fiends, strangers and friends walk in any time unnanounced along with Linda's mom. There is no way in hell I could or would ever tolerate THAT. My whole life is about privacy practically, I've been accostomed to it my entire life.
Therefore, I've grown accostomed to having a needle in my arm and whoever barging in, usually some dope fiend I don't know or a member of the regular gang. There is also the issue of changing clothes, which I do a lot of at Aimee's. Therefore when strange guys walk in without knocking and I'm in the middle of changing in Aimee's room, I don't give it a second thought, and neither does the particular fiend that barges in, although usually they turn away and that's that. There was this one irritating guy named Ralph that gets on everyone's nerves when he's tweeked, but it's Aimee's room and I do what SHE says is or is not ok. Aimee and I have a very unusual relationship in that there is a lot of hugging, cuddling, and physical closeness, shit I don't have with anyone else, other than perhpas a sex partner, Erik who I haven't seen since 2005, or hugs from NA people, but even that's not the same.
Jail was the only other time and place it was socially acceptable to spoon with other women because they kept it so friggin COLD in there and they gave us short sleeve jumpsuits. I've done things with her I would never do with another girlfriend, but there are times when we both need a bit of comfort, but she at least has her boyfriend. So, Ralph was being annoying, and he thought it was very hinky when he saw Aimee lying down, her arm around me with my head on her breast for comfort. That's the second closest thing to physical love I've ever felt next to chemicals. Neither Aimee or I are gay or bisexual, although I'm sure since we are feminine, atrractive women, especially when we're dressed up, if we were, we'd not kick the other out of our bed.
I'm wired for heterosexuality, as is she, but I've always craved some sort of comfort from somewhere, someone. It makes me glad that I'm not a man in that respect because I lean on other women for emotional support, and sometimes Aimee for physical support. Ralph quit being irritating and left. I had a mother of a migraine for over 3 fucking days that would leave for 6 hrs after taking my painkillers, but come right back with a vengence. Then, when I got home Wednesday morning early, Mom was all suspicious and in my face, but I was in too much pain to deal, so I went to lie down for a couple hrs, then took my car to get serviced, waited 3 hrs, walked back in the heat to pick it up. I came home, laid down for 3 hrs, then had to go to the dentist for more damn oral surgery.
I arrived with a mother of a headache, but they got their surgery done in 2 hrs, were very nice. I didn't really have a full day off, my muscles are sore as fuck. I was still smartin from John Doe's comment, and who else can I talk to other than a girlfriend? Certainly NOT a guy. The whole thing with John Doe was I'd made a comment about trimming the rain forest around his pubic and stomach region. I honestly didn't say it in a mean way, but that was what the fuss was all about. I guess his wife doesn't give him oral sex, but for fuck's sake, it looked like a forest had taken up residence or something and I'm not fond of the idea of getting a wad of hair in my mouth, but mainly, I can't understand how someone that was smooth for so long, with age grows this hair, why they wouldn't want to feel their own skin, to SEE their own skin.
I guess he got a little bent. I apologized, what else could I do? I met this guy years ago that flew out from New York and we stayed in a motel for a week. Nice guy, we had a good time, but his back and ass were covered with thick hair and although I didn't say anything, I couldn't stand it. I felt like suggesting weed wacker or something, but it's not like I knew him well enough to do that without getting him offended. So, John Doe thinks I'm mean, but at least we ended our relationship on a civil note. I've had a mother of a time with depression past couple days, but writing helped, Aimee helped, my ex sugar daddy thinks I can work it out, but that's how I deal. Then Erik sent me a text that was soo sweet and unexpected. When I die, whoever finds my body will know that I onced loved a guy named Erik, enough to tattoo his name on my body, because he'll always be close to my heart no matter what happens. Love you baby. Fuck I'm late, I gotta get to work, fuck.
Wow, journal has gone. I wish I had of known so I had the chance to salvage anything I may have wanted to keep.
Bummed.
Bummed.
I can't help but think you're REALLY wasting your time reading this. Don't even bother. God help you you're almost as lost as I am and the days where I might have even been able to give half ass solid direction are long fucking gone. You're both angry with me anyway, and that's all right, I don't hold that against you, all I can tell you for sure is that I'm not even worth whatever angst that I may have unintentionally caused you, so you lurk, but say nothing. Don't even trip, because I'm in a whole heap of trouble, and God help me I'm afraid. I've been down this road before, I'm afraid some bad shit is gonna happen, although I don't want it to. You two, like me will continue your chems. I tried, really TRIED the straight and narrow path for 2 yrs. It's a miracle I lasted that long.
Who knows what may or may not have happened had I never gotten detoured by that damned Tramadol. Giving up the mild buzz was no big deal, but the W/D's trying repeatedly to get off of it, even gradually, God what a nightmare!! For all the hell it put me through, just as well I switched to the REAL painkillers, but now sister crystal is back and fuck me, this addiction is bigger, stronger, and WAY badder than I could ever be and although the highs are awesome, I'm back to feeling chemical dependency full force and I'm in a mega shitload of trouble and I'm fucking scared to death. I don't think I can get out of it this time, God fuckin help me. I tried unsuccessfully before to manage a full time habit, but all I got was a shitload of unmanageability.
I cannot believe how utterly useless I am, a full time slave to my bodies damn needs, whether it's dope or food, one or the other. Friday, the chronic fatigue hit me full force as always, cause I stop the meth Thursday. I sleep 8 to 10 hrs Fri-Mon, but wake up tired still, and am still a slave to my cursed appetite. I cannot believe this. So, Tuesday rolls around, I decide fuck it, I can't take falling asleep 24/7. Aimee and Don helped me, but I didn't go 2 work Tuesday, only because instead of the usual place, I'd of had to drive all over bum fuck Egygpt to a place I'd never been in heavy late afternoon traffic, so I called off. I had fun where I was at, visited with the friends and group where I truly am at home--in my own element.
Linda drove us around to different stores, one of which was a tobacco shop. I end up buying a couple items, and of course run into an NA member, whose name I couldn't even remember, but I know he could tell I was under the influence. I didn't necessarily appear that way to normies, as I know how to maintain, although looking into that guy's eyes, well I know that he knew---and that he knew that I knew, FUCK. The shit was fucking killer, I hardly touched any. Linda, Cody, and I were sitting in her bedroom, and yes I'm thrilled to death to weigh around 200 lbs instead of a disgraceful hoggish 240 lbs. Cody did say though, "I can definitely tell you've lost a lot of weight." I'm happy about that, but what's sad is the truth.
I wish the truth was merely self discipline, but actually even when it was during my Atkins diet phase, I was tortured non stop by food cravings in the absense of dope. This is so not cool. I don't care about being a model anymore, but why can't I stop being bothered with cravings for bad food and only be content to eat 3 small meals a day? I ended up staying at Linda's all night, and Mom of course is very suspicious of my activities. It's absolutely rediculous that a 44 y/o woman has to feel as paranoid as I did when I was 15 and trying to sneak out of the house to see my illicit much older, outlaw boyfriend back in 1980. So I'm in trouble financially again. Dunno what I'm gonna do.
I'm hooked on dope again. Dunno what I'm gonna do about that. As for the cyber sex, it was all fun, but I'll never have live sex with him or anyone else. I see this, the lust has been replaced with fear, and God help me I cannot go through another jail term. I'm in a shitload of trouble, I'm scared because I don't know what's gonna happen and I have this feeling that after the highs, soon something bad's gonna happen and I'd rather have no life than jail, constant poverty, or W/D's. Lord end my life, or get me the fuck out of this...
Who knows what may or may not have happened had I never gotten detoured by that damned Tramadol. Giving up the mild buzz was no big deal, but the W/D's trying repeatedly to get off of it, even gradually, God what a nightmare!! For all the hell it put me through, just as well I switched to the REAL painkillers, but now sister crystal is back and fuck me, this addiction is bigger, stronger, and WAY badder than I could ever be and although the highs are awesome, I'm back to feeling chemical dependency full force and I'm in a mega shitload of trouble and I'm fucking scared to death. I don't think I can get out of it this time, God fuckin help me. I tried unsuccessfully before to manage a full time habit, but all I got was a shitload of unmanageability.
I cannot believe how utterly useless I am, a full time slave to my bodies damn needs, whether it's dope or food, one or the other. Friday, the chronic fatigue hit me full force as always, cause I stop the meth Thursday. I sleep 8 to 10 hrs Fri-Mon, but wake up tired still, and am still a slave to my cursed appetite. I cannot believe this. So, Tuesday rolls around, I decide fuck it, I can't take falling asleep 24/7. Aimee and Don helped me, but I didn't go 2 work Tuesday, only because instead of the usual place, I'd of had to drive all over bum fuck Egygpt to a place I'd never been in heavy late afternoon traffic, so I called off. I had fun where I was at, visited with the friends and group where I truly am at home--in my own element.
Linda drove us around to different stores, one of which was a tobacco shop. I end up buying a couple items, and of course run into an NA member, whose name I couldn't even remember, but I know he could tell I was under the influence. I didn't necessarily appear that way to normies, as I know how to maintain, although looking into that guy's eyes, well I know that he knew---and that he knew that I knew, FUCK. The shit was fucking killer, I hardly touched any. Linda, Cody, and I were sitting in her bedroom, and yes I'm thrilled to death to weigh around 200 lbs instead of a disgraceful hoggish 240 lbs. Cody did say though, "I can definitely tell you've lost a lot of weight." I'm happy about that, but what's sad is the truth.
I wish the truth was merely self discipline, but actually even when it was during my Atkins diet phase, I was tortured non stop by food cravings in the absense of dope. This is so not cool. I don't care about being a model anymore, but why can't I stop being bothered with cravings for bad food and only be content to eat 3 small meals a day? I ended up staying at Linda's all night, and Mom of course is very suspicious of my activities. It's absolutely rediculous that a 44 y/o woman has to feel as paranoid as I did when I was 15 and trying to sneak out of the house to see my illicit much older, outlaw boyfriend back in 1980. So I'm in trouble financially again. Dunno what I'm gonna do.
I'm hooked on dope again. Dunno what I'm gonna do about that. As for the cyber sex, it was all fun, but I'll never have live sex with him or anyone else. I see this, the lust has been replaced with fear, and God help me I cannot go through another jail term. I'm in a shitload of trouble, I'm scared because I don't know what's gonna happen and I have this feeling that after the highs, soon something bad's gonna happen and I'd rather have no life than jail, constant poverty, or W/D's. Lord end my life, or get me the fuck out of this...
I was readin on somebody on here talkin about hood coppin. How they scared due to race, apearance, how they will stand out and all that. I dont want to tell them that they can be jus like the bum they step around on the corner some day. Not tryin to be somethin they aint, but a real , live, hood rat, scramblin thru the trash piles every day like its just another part of life. It takes time but youll see it. I guess I rather not tell em. Keep em to their over price bundles and coppin in the nice part of town.
..............
I aint somebody whose roots is outside the hood so maybe it makes me different than some of the rest of yall. I dont know. I know there is a select few on here who knows wat it is like to not be viewing it from the other side of someone with no bizness bein on the block. Some of the earliest memories of my childhood is in paterson n Ive always felt, na known, in my heart that it was home, even tho I moved away at a young age, i still spent about half my time down there back and forth as i got older. It was never too far away, and it was never a place i thought of as soemwhere to get drugs...It was just where we went when we needed our car fixed, or to buy a car, or to visit family, or watever it was, paterson was home base even after leaving. so i never viewed it as the place that some of yall did. as a "scary ghetto" or a place to get drugs. It was just , paterson. The place my heart is born from.
As I got older and heroin took hold I realized there was a whole lot more to the city than my cousin on Montgomery st. tho.
Anyways , My point is, I been doin this shit so long, Im in it for life now. People in the hood know me. Everytime Im down there whether its coppin or for watever other reason Im there for, I see people I know. I dont even mean my friends, I mean jus the people on the street, the people in the stores, I see people I dont even know, who know me. "Hey ma I seen you on broadway last week!" "Mamichula U was at the bar on lafayette and e. 19th last time I seen u!" people is suprised cuz Im white. They remember my face but they see me over and over and kind of wonder wat the hell she is doin down here anyways.
Like I said. I lived on North 3rd st cross street with jefferson for a lil while. Well, If you dont know about northside, thats on you. I aint one of the kids from fair lawn or wayne who goes from my nice coldesac over to the hood to cop and then share my bricks with my collar poppin tanning bed slut guys n girls. I hate those people. I know they gotta get their fix just like me, but it hurts me, it feels like they are using my city, and it aint even my city to say i own, but damn. Think of it as something more. It makes me sick the whiteboys who drive thru to cop their dope and laugh at the milk crates nailed to the telephone pole for a ball game, who start cussin 'Fucking lazy nigger!" When their guy dont pick up the phone. Ugh. the word makes me sick inside , thinkin of my best friends, maybe someday my daughter or son, having to hear those words against them. So easy to come here and take wat you want, and leave wat you dont. The people here, aint got that choice. Only to keep on trying , prolly off your dirty dope dollar.
People come to use and abuse. To take pictures of the projects for their deep and thoughtful photo albums. whether they realize it or not, thinking they are sympathetic to the people there, thinking I dont know the hell wat, I want to tell them get the fuck out. For every "touching" or "symbolic" moment that lense and shutter snaps and freezes in time, there is a 100 fold repetition of the same ol shit, every damn day, all over the city, just a part of life, outside that liberal college students camera.
A real life that goes on and continues and hurts and bleeds and suffers and cries, whether or not there is a audience to witness it and comment on some stupid fuckin blog about the subject and composition of the photo. To come in as spectators and all watch the way "the forgotten class" lives. Well I dont want you watchin me and my moves and the moves of all the lost and disconnected souls wanderin in and out the projects and buildings and porches of Silk city.
I might not of spent every moment as a kid raised in paterson. I got raised with the hood values and the usual shit. lights gettin turned off, waitin on the check to get some food , nothin for lunch but crackers and water and drinkin Kool Aid without no sugar in it cuz we didnt have none. But it was outside paterson. the disconnect put me away for a few years. but dope brought me home in a funny way. it dont make a difference. My address on my driver license might say that I live in a po dunk town in north jersey, a place where suburban kids drive their parents escalades to paterson to cop, but when Im back in the hood its flowin thru my blood like I aint left. silk city in my left tittie til the day I die.....
You spend enough time on the streets , you become the streets. I dont feel like I can ever go back. My mother tried to move me away as a kid so the streets didnt get to me and change me as I was growin up but it was too strong and as soon as I was old enough I was gettin into that shit anyways. Nothin can change the inevitable. I dont feel no fear of the unfamiliar walking the block. Just the same old heavy-ass weight in my chest knowing wat Im doing is slowly killin me shot by shot. But shots or not, Ima still be on the block. i cant live without the corner store, the rubber band nappy head of my best friends daughter while i sit on the porch and watch her hair get twisted into some bouncy lil braids that will flop up and down while she skips up the street to the stop sign. I cant breathe without the pink tinged sky of the night time, without the hot breeze thru the dark streets makin me feel like I live forever. The trees growin up thru the windows of the house across the street are just a friendly reminder that everythings eventual and its comforting in a way that we all someday gonna turn into decay. My house sits on a piece of grass. A deck in the back. Only gets robbed once a couple months. I got the online and the cable TV, I dont know for how long with how money is right now but, We aint taping garbage bags over broken glass windows for now. But my heart beats in time with the streets, too far gone to change, the mark is permanent, a wall built up over years and years, eyes dried from tears and empty of fears. hardened n wiser, cool talkin smooth walkin with a dip in my hip and a smile at my lip, aint scared to stand proud as wat I am, not so much a stranger but a daughter come home to a land I made my own.
..............
I aint somebody whose roots is outside the hood so maybe it makes me different than some of the rest of yall. I dont know. I know there is a select few on here who knows wat it is like to not be viewing it from the other side of someone with no bizness bein on the block. Some of the earliest memories of my childhood is in paterson n Ive always felt, na known, in my heart that it was home, even tho I moved away at a young age, i still spent about half my time down there back and forth as i got older. It was never too far away, and it was never a place i thought of as soemwhere to get drugs...It was just where we went when we needed our car fixed, or to buy a car, or to visit family, or watever it was, paterson was home base even after leaving. so i never viewed it as the place that some of yall did. as a "scary ghetto" or a place to get drugs. It was just , paterson. The place my heart is born from.
As I got older and heroin took hold I realized there was a whole lot more to the city than my cousin on Montgomery st. tho.
Anyways , My point is, I been doin this shit so long, Im in it for life now. People in the hood know me. Everytime Im down there whether its coppin or for watever other reason Im there for, I see people I know. I dont even mean my friends, I mean jus the people on the street, the people in the stores, I see people I dont even know, who know me. "Hey ma I seen you on broadway last week!" "Mamichula U was at the bar on lafayette and e. 19th last time I seen u!" people is suprised cuz Im white. They remember my face but they see me over and over and kind of wonder wat the hell she is doin down here anyways.
Like I said. I lived on North 3rd st cross street with jefferson for a lil while. Well, If you dont know about northside, thats on you. I aint one of the kids from fair lawn or wayne who goes from my nice coldesac over to the hood to cop and then share my bricks with my collar poppin tanning bed slut guys n girls. I hate those people. I know they gotta get their fix just like me, but it hurts me, it feels like they are using my city, and it aint even my city to say i own, but damn. Think of it as something more. It makes me sick the whiteboys who drive thru to cop their dope and laugh at the milk crates nailed to the telephone pole for a ball game, who start cussin 'Fucking lazy nigger!" When their guy dont pick up the phone. Ugh. the word makes me sick inside , thinkin of my best friends, maybe someday my daughter or son, having to hear those words against them. So easy to come here and take wat you want, and leave wat you dont. The people here, aint got that choice. Only to keep on trying , prolly off your dirty dope dollar.
People come to use and abuse. To take pictures of the projects for their deep and thoughtful photo albums. whether they realize it or not, thinking they are sympathetic to the people there, thinking I dont know the hell wat, I want to tell them get the fuck out. For every "touching" or "symbolic" moment that lense and shutter snaps and freezes in time, there is a 100 fold repetition of the same ol shit, every damn day, all over the city, just a part of life, outside that liberal college students camera.
A real life that goes on and continues and hurts and bleeds and suffers and cries, whether or not there is a audience to witness it and comment on some stupid fuckin blog about the subject and composition of the photo. To come in as spectators and all watch the way "the forgotten class" lives. Well I dont want you watchin me and my moves and the moves of all the lost and disconnected souls wanderin in and out the projects and buildings and porches of Silk city.
I might not of spent every moment as a kid raised in paterson. I got raised with the hood values and the usual shit. lights gettin turned off, waitin on the check to get some food , nothin for lunch but crackers and water and drinkin Kool Aid without no sugar in it cuz we didnt have none. But it was outside paterson. the disconnect put me away for a few years. but dope brought me home in a funny way. it dont make a difference. My address on my driver license might say that I live in a po dunk town in north jersey, a place where suburban kids drive their parents escalades to paterson to cop, but when Im back in the hood its flowin thru my blood like I aint left. silk city in my left tittie til the day I die.....
You spend enough time on the streets , you become the streets. I dont feel like I can ever go back. My mother tried to move me away as a kid so the streets didnt get to me and change me as I was growin up but it was too strong and as soon as I was old enough I was gettin into that shit anyways. Nothin can change the inevitable. I dont feel no fear of the unfamiliar walking the block. Just the same old heavy-ass weight in my chest knowing wat Im doing is slowly killin me shot by shot. But shots or not, Ima still be on the block. i cant live without the corner store, the rubber band nappy head of my best friends daughter while i sit on the porch and watch her hair get twisted into some bouncy lil braids that will flop up and down while she skips up the street to the stop sign. I cant breathe without the pink tinged sky of the night time, without the hot breeze thru the dark streets makin me feel like I live forever. The trees growin up thru the windows of the house across the street are just a friendly reminder that everythings eventual and its comforting in a way that we all someday gonna turn into decay. My house sits on a piece of grass. A deck in the back. Only gets robbed once a couple months. I got the online and the cable TV, I dont know for how long with how money is right now but, We aint taping garbage bags over broken glass windows for now. But my heart beats in time with the streets, too far gone to change, the mark is permanent, a wall built up over years and years, eyes dried from tears and empty of fears. hardened n wiser, cool talkin smooth walkin with a dip in my hip and a smile at my lip, aint scared to stand proud as wat I am, not so much a stranger but a daughter come home to a land I made my own.
I've done a report on the incident, which can be watched here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B5bvWd6-39Q
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B5bvWd6-39Q
I am happy today, super super kawaii happy. It won't pay a billion dollars but I will be able to pay down my credit cards and survive a recession that devastated me financially last year to the point of virtual submission, a statement which probably carries all the wrong connotations when being viewed from the perspective of Jamshyd if he's reading this 
.
But yeah, I got the call this morning and have had a patch on since yesterday (nicotine patch, of course.......) to numb me to whatever the result of the interview would be for a few days. And sure enough, when I got the call this morning I arched my back and just started smiling and stretching out my whole body like it's the first time I've ever been alive. It seriously feels so good to know that I will survive on my own when I was gradually turning into a dependent with a massive self-medication problem, which would probably turn me into a gigantic sack of shit if I didn't start becoming self-sufficient in a way other than shifting money around from here to there in an attempt to empty water out of a sinking ship.
I just need to put everything into it, starting today even though it's only paperwork that needs to be taken care of right now. Today is the first day in a while where I'm not going to feel bad about enjoying a day full of video games.
.But yeah, I got the call this morning and have had a patch on since yesterday (nicotine patch, of course.......
) to numb me to whatever the result of the interview would be for a few days. And sure enough, when I got the call this morning I arched my back and just started smiling and stretching out my whole body like it's the first time I've ever been alive. It seriously feels so good to know that I will survive on my own when I was gradually turning into a dependent with a massive self-medication problem, which would probably turn me into a gigantic sack of shit if I didn't start becoming self-sufficient in a way other than shifting money around from here to there in an attempt to empty water out of a sinking ship.I just need to put everything into it, starting today even though it's only paperwork that needs to be taken care of right now. Today is the first day in a while where I'm not going to feel bad about enjoying a day full of video games.
http://www.natvan.com/adv/2005/07-02-05.html
lol some white power site talking about a rainbow gathering from a few years ago. LOTS OF LAUGHS!
lol some white power site talking about a rainbow gathering from a few years ago. LOTS OF LAUGHS!
is probably the most satisfying and frustrating thing i know of (to draw and look at)
(to draw and look at)
I find baiting contenders are but mere pretenders that rarely tend to be tender.
Although disheartening, it serves to lighten the search for empathetic digg duggers outside the boundaries of a well lined tunnel of infinite contradiction.
These include, any and every being flying past the bird's of prey, into closer beacons of a genuinely glowing acknowledgement to realities that may not be understood by some, but estimated by many.
Direct assertiveness walks faster than it runs, in any direction.
Answer me in the forums if your collective is clear.
Edited for: Spaces Between
_________________
|| Life's definition lives through refinement. ||
Although disheartening, it serves to lighten the search for empathetic digg duggers outside the boundaries of a well lined tunnel of infinite contradiction.
These include, any and every being flying past the bird's of prey, into closer beacons of a genuinely glowing acknowledgement to realities that may not be understood by some, but estimated by many.
Direct assertiveness walks faster than it runs, in any direction.
Answer me in the forums if your collective is clear.
Edited for: Spaces Between
_________________
|| Life's definition lives through refinement. ||
Man before I get into that topic, I am happy to say that I have a serious interview for a serious business job in about 9 hours. This will mark the six month or so I've been unemployed as hell, and goddammit this job is coming not a minute too soon. I have about enough money for another month and then I would really have to declare bankruptcy (like really, as in I should have declared it last May. I checked out my tax return, which cost like a billion dollars to prepare because of all the options trades, and my total capital losses were much more than I expected. I thought it was only 25,000 but it was actually 35,000. Bad news bears. Good news is that I'm not going to pay a lot of taxes for 09 unless I get really good at my job really fast. I really just need like 20k in the bank to feel secure after what I've been through. I was on the verge of committing suicide every day with a real live shotgun for a while there, and I just recently started talking to my friends again after a four month period of being basically catatonic and worthless, and they're being really cool and understand that I was super depressed and all of that good stuff.
Anyways, I didn't know what to do with myself for a while there so I started working toward completing the hours necessary to become a CPA and was recruited by the IRS for some really great job but I just couldn't do it. It was an expensive lesson but I figured out that I may not be too stupid to be an accountant, but I really just don't give a flying shit about the subject, and if there is something interesting then I'll get my accountant to tell me about it when it comes up. It's great they can feed all of that information into the information chain. Without them man I guess the world would fall apart, and I have a lot of respect for them and can speak their language but the subject has a habit of turning my brain completely catatonic. I hate fucking around with SQL, I hate fucking around with building any sort of database. I just want to use the damn things, not buy them wedding rings and have kids with them. To each his/her own I guess.
So I continued along the path this semester, and I didn't go to class, failed more than anyone has failed before because I didn't even open the books, and didn't even try to drop the classes after scoring 20% on all my tests just by eenie meenie minie moeing my exams, and didn't even bother showing up to the final or justifying any of it to the professors or even to myself. Fuck accounting, end of story. Lessons cost money, and I still have transcripts that show I can be good at it but no one will ever see this semesters grades. If they ask I'll just tell them the truth - fuck accounting, fire me. Why would I get another masters just to kill time. That is so pussy, and I just couldn't do it. All it would do is overqualify me for every entry level position in the world, and once the economy swings back I'll be hanging around a bunch of people at work that I would like to see impaled on a really long query or smashed by a giant box of audit data that for some reason wasn't imaged. But I really like them. I always got along with accountants, science guys, architects, and otherwise obsessive and happy people the best.
Lawyers are great to do coke with, but their family lives are seriously fucked. There's this one in Houston who has made all kinds of case law and is captain awesome according to Saudi Royals (who dual wield planes into the twin towers) and newspapers around the world but godammit he has seven kids and has had 5 wives. He is always sweating like he could never figure out the mixture of cocaine and liquor that is not destined to make his heart stop one day. I like him just fine, but Jesus Christ it's like he needs to visit the make-up room every time he goes anywhere. I just hope he doesn't go and die on me because he's full of useful beans and I've got at least one finger one of his pies.
I can't really judge. No one takes more pills than me, true story. I switched up the order of consumption one day and went to a taqueria afterward. For about an hour after that I seriously thought I was having a heart attack. All I ate was a milanesa torta and a chicharron taco, for christ sake. I look great on the outside, but there is definitely something wrong on the inside just like that lawyer who I will probably never really know, as in really, really know. Some people keep it locked up their whole lives, but the proof is in the pudding since you have to interact with other people. He spreads a large amount of professional and political win, but it doesn't take a microscope to see that he's miserable as fuck and his family probably is too.'
Longest post ever, brought to you by the guy who is going to put on a suit tomorrow and walk into an office and literally have a gameplan that involves nothing more than playing politics until I max out my money and secretly get people ahead of me fired or demoted like the company is a video game. And yeah it's just a first interview but it's the same chick that interviewed me before a year ago when I turned the job down. We'll most certainly end up having sex in her office, as is evidenced by the fact that I accepted her job offer a year ago and didn't show up to my first day at work because I hedged my bets and actually started working for another company that same day. And she still calls me lol, the day after I run into her, for an interview. I'm staying up all night tonight and I'm going to be James Bond wasted during the interview and still get the job. Jesus it will be nice to have some money again.
Anyways, I didn't know what to do with myself for a while there so I started working toward completing the hours necessary to become a CPA and was recruited by the IRS for some really great job but I just couldn't do it. It was an expensive lesson but I figured out that I may not be too stupid to be an accountant, but I really just don't give a flying shit about the subject, and if there is something interesting then I'll get my accountant to tell me about it when it comes up. It's great they can feed all of that information into the information chain. Without them man I guess the world would fall apart, and I have a lot of respect for them and can speak their language but the subject has a habit of turning my brain completely catatonic. I hate fucking around with SQL, I hate fucking around with building any sort of database. I just want to use the damn things, not buy them wedding rings and have kids with them. To each his/her own I guess.
So I continued along the path this semester, and I didn't go to class, failed more than anyone has failed before because I didn't even open the books, and didn't even try to drop the classes after scoring 20% on all my tests just by eenie meenie minie moeing my exams, and didn't even bother showing up to the final or justifying any of it to the professors or even to myself. Fuck accounting, end of story. Lessons cost money, and I still have transcripts that show I can be good at it but no one will ever see this semesters grades. If they ask I'll just tell them the truth - fuck accounting, fire me. Why would I get another masters just to kill time. That is so pussy, and I just couldn't do it. All it would do is overqualify me for every entry level position in the world, and once the economy swings back I'll be hanging around a bunch of people at work that I would like to see impaled on a really long query or smashed by a giant box of audit data that for some reason wasn't imaged. But I really like them. I always got along with accountants, science guys, architects, and otherwise obsessive and happy people the best.
Lawyers are great to do coke with, but their family lives are seriously fucked. There's this one in Houston who has made all kinds of case law and is captain awesome according to Saudi Royals (who dual wield planes into the twin towers) and newspapers around the world but godammit he has seven kids and has had 5 wives. He is always sweating like he could never figure out the mixture of cocaine and liquor that is not destined to make his heart stop one day. I like him just fine, but Jesus Christ it's like he needs to visit the make-up room every time he goes anywhere. I just hope he doesn't go and die on me because he's full of useful beans and I've got at least one finger one of his pies.
I can't really judge. No one takes more pills than me, true story. I switched up the order of consumption one day and went to a taqueria afterward. For about an hour after that I seriously thought I was having a heart attack. All I ate was a milanesa torta and a chicharron taco, for christ sake. I look great on the outside, but there is definitely something wrong on the inside just like that lawyer who I will probably never really know, as in really, really know. Some people keep it locked up their whole lives, but the proof is in the pudding since you have to interact with other people. He spreads a large amount of professional and political win, but it doesn't take a microscope to see that he's miserable as fuck and his family probably is too.'
Longest post ever, brought to you by the guy who is going to put on a suit tomorrow and walk into an office and literally have a gameplan that involves nothing more than playing politics until I max out my money and secretly get people ahead of me fired or demoted like the company is a video game. And yeah it's just a first interview but it's the same chick that interviewed me before a year ago when I turned the job down. We'll most certainly end up having sex in her office, as is evidenced by the fact that I accepted her job offer a year ago and didn't show up to my first day at work because I hedged my bets and actually started working for another company that same day. And she still calls me lol, the day after I run into her, for an interview. I'm staying up all night tonight and I'm going to be James Bond wasted during the interview and still get the job. Jesus it will be nice to have some money again.