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A followup from my last post about Michael Phelps. The swimmer is finally starting to feel the consequences from his recent bong rip. According to huffingtonpost.com Phelps received a three month ban from swimming, lucky the "drug" charge was not enough to drop Phelps. But kelloggs didn't like the negative feedback and did decided not to renew another contact with the swimmer making this Febuary his last month.

Phelps continued to aplogise again by responding to the photo in an interview with the Baltimore Sun with comments like.

"This was stupid, and I know this won't happen again."

"This is a decision of mine that I'm not going to make today and I'm not going to make tomorrow."

and that he "clearly made a mistake"...

Sources:
Day 1

I did my last bag about an hour ago.
I gave my car keys to my dad becasue I dont know anyone who will deliever, so I cannot go anywere till I leave for class on Monday at 3pm. I am prepared with klonopins (for my anxiety and muscle spasms), imodium AD (diarrhea), some pepto bismol (upset stomach), and plenty of water and movies to watch.

I"ll be doing an update everyday on my condition, and please feel free to leave me an suggestions or helpful bits on info to make things easyier.

Anyone know how to make the cold sweats earyier?

WISH ME LUCK!!!
it was early morning...

the sun's warm rays were dulled by the viscious wind coming in from the east as i sat idlely waiting for the nanny's commands.
my sister who is numb to any and/or all emotions simply shrugged off the intense swaying of the heavy hanging baskets overhead as my eyes widened with caution. nothing could stop her mission to bring pretty flowers to the world...nothing.

i sat alone at the back of the greenhouse transplanting...waiting...waiting for what? i dont know...

the plants above rocked rythmically as i punctured holes in the flat surface of the potted soil and i could hear the sounds of the radio faintly coming from where my sister slaved. she came into view at the begining of the aisle yelling something inaudible but her lips said she was going inside for some crackers. the sides of the greenhouse flapped frantically against the frame, knocking the poles holding the plants further into motion and i glanced up then stared back at my sister who stood with her hands on her hips, irritated. she turned on her heels and marched for the house to relieve her bitter innards.

the wind grew stronger and the greenhouse was a peetree dish of noise. i'd be lying if i said i wasnt afraid. in the distance i heard a gust of wind hurdling towards my location and i gulped down my suspicions. when the gust hit the greenhouse i looked up at the crazed baskets then closed my eyes waiting for it to pass. at that moment...
CLANG!
the abrupt noise was followed by many a clangs caused by the pole wires snapping and the hooks of the baskets giving way to gravity. the pole fell at the end where i was sitting and the huge baskets dominoed towards my completely breakable person. without any thought i lept up and indiana jonesed it out of there while the clatter of falling weight kept close behind. i made it out just in time for the last basket to drop and catch the door from slamming shut.

peering inside i saw hundreds of dollars of work my sister and i had worked so hard to produce for nanny, but i also saw what could have been me lying underneath all the hundreds of pounds of soil and baskets that were heavy alone without the wet soil itself. and luckily i had the power of indie behind me, thank you indie....thank you.

Something I wrote when I was loaded years ago...

Touched By Fire

By Tanya T

Only certain beings
Solitary travelers
Choose to walk a path
Very few have been

Unknown by most
For it's so small
And it's a prickly path

Laden by dangers, by droughts so harsh,
Incredibly steep hills, loose rocks everywhere
Only those souls touched by fire
Are mad enough to walk there

The journey is long
Leading to unknown destinations
Although I don't remember
From where, and when, and why

This wandering soul I know
That crosses the path I take
A kinship I feel
We know we chose a road
Most of which we'll travel alone

Blessed and cursed are we
Souls touched by fire
Ever so mad indeed

To walk a path and endure countless falls
Being ripped, impaled, bruised, and broken
Consumed by pain
And wounds attained

Even amputations
Result from traveling at break neck speeds
And venturing over the edge

Prosthetics for the soul
On this dimension
Do not exist
Oh wandering souls
Cease and desist!

Of course we don't take heed
Souls possessed by fire
Do as they damn well please

By walking this path
There is no rest or sleep
I look at my companion
Like me he's ancient and fatigued

His heart's been ripped, bruised, broken, scorched, and burned
For rest and sleep he yearns
But most of all he seeks
Alas the most precious of all treats

Unconditional love
His lips will only ever meet in his dreams
Yet finding more places
So few dare to go

Stamina and endurance
Gifts unique and rare
Souls touched by fire need always share
To go where angels fear to tread

Pain, fear, depression, emptiness, despair
The deepest darkest valleys
Searing white hot pain
Life over the edge
Where others will not tread

They can never know
The raptures extreme, the joys, the highs
And ecstasies felt inside
Feeling so alive!

Kissing the sky
Such peace and joy
My cup runneth over
In abundance of love

Taking Saturn's ring
I pluck it from the sky
Fasten it to his neck

Reaching into the sky
I'm plucking constellations radiant and bright
And pieces of the dark black sky
Putting them in a bottle
It dangles as a charm

From his necklace
A bottle of stars
Contrasting the blackness of the sky
My gift for him

The beauty from the light that radiate from the stars
Beauty that does him justice
They reflect the energy of his essence
The love that emanates from his very soul

Made glorious by the contrast of black sky
Represents the emptiness, the pain
The suffering only known
To addict hearts that ventured the lowest of valleys

Where shadows of our souls
Kept us in the blackest of nights
Fear not the Piper my heart
For thy love is stronger than death!

Remember the deepest darkness is always before the dawn
Without which we'd never know
The magnificent beauty of the light
That burns radiantly bright
Fills my heart with joy

The necklace that he wears
Reflects the beauty of his soul so fair
"Alas my friend," I say
Although we must depart

For a while to travel our roads alone
Even while we're apart
Forever you'll be felt
Close to my heart

The shining stars reflecting your essence, my love
Can be seen and felt so true
A part of me my love
Will always be with you

All I have to do is look up in the sky
And know you're always there
The gift of unconditional love our hearts can always share

My sweet darling I love you for all time
You're a rare oasis of heaven
In a sea of parched desert land

6/10/00

drums keep pounding rhythym to the brain...la de da de dee...la de da de dy


my brain waves are simmering to a slow boil. everything has seemed to slow down and im unable to cope with the unnecessary dealings at work. how is it that people can be baffled at the solid truth of every day living? am i alone with my honesty? people think things they dont say and live with what they dont like. i just dont understand...

the beat goes on...
That's basically it.

I will probably cry myself to sleep tonight because of perceived rejection and anger toward me by someone whose opinion I value much higher than I should, really.

He is a miserable, walking bag of depression and I worship him like an awestruck, lovesick puppy dog. He seriously has no idea the way he effects me and his tone or wording being off in the slightest make me think he hates me and wishes he could rid himself of me.

I know part of this is the detox talking as well, which also sucks and makes me want to run away and go someplace where heroin doesn't exist so I wouldn't have to even deal with it.
Its sacred.

I can not express it.

But I am so in love now I understand what it means.

I am very ready to do what it takes to have a happy life for him and me.

It makes me sad that I trusted the wrong people and it cost me the friendship of people I thought were friends. But in the end, it saved me the time spent with ppl who did not want me.

So thank you TOM.

I discovered myself. And happiness from the despair of you.

HAPPY

My family are so happy. Pepe is happy.

You were the lesson to learn, obviously. NEVER ever ignore the inner voice.

<3
Besides writing and watching DVD's last night, I read a bit from A Course in Miracles and reread a little from the NA Basic Text to try to get my mind out of all the knots it seems to be tied into. It had been a while since I read The Course, so I picked up where I left off and this paragraph spoke to me:

"Be comforted, and feel the Holy Spirit watching over you in love and perfect confidence in what He sees. He knows the Son of God, and shares his Father's certainty the universe rests in his gentle hands in safety and in peace. Let us consider now what he must learn, to share his Father's confidence in him. What is he, that the Creator of the universe should offer it to him and know it rests in safety? He looks upon himself not as his Father knows him. And yet it is impossible the confidence of God should be misplaced."

I don't know why, but it spoke to me, even though I don't believe that God is a he or a she, but a loving, formless, shapeless, energy, endless Source that moves through people, places, and things, but transcends time and space. That is my understanding of God anyway, as a never ending source that always was and always will be. So, I discard the whole Christianity overtones, but still get from it what I need. I've thought about it and somehow have come to the conclusion that it's The Source's will for me not to actually use drugs, but thinking about getting loaded, fantasizing about getting loaded, and writing about getting loaded, are not the same as doing it.

I'm working towards my 3rd years of clean time and as I stated before in previous blog entries, the first year was the honeymoon period for me, and the 2nd year plus is like now the shit in life has hit the fan and walking through this crap drug free is far from easy. After reading that paragraph from The Course, I read a couple of stories from the new NA Basic Text, one of them entitled, "One Third Step for Me, One Giant Leap for My Recovery." This particular story was about a guy that was raised in a loving, but strict Orthodox Jewish family. He wrote about how he hated feeling so different from others, eating different food, being made to dress differently from his peers, being brought up in a culture alien from his peers and how as a child long before drugs he first got out of himself through endless fantasy.

Damn how that hit home! He talked about trying to fly, asking God to let him fly, but it never happened. I did the same damn thing repeatedly as early as age 3, and used running to get out of myself and remember loving the rush I felt from running and going on the swings for hours at a time if I could. I hated being the tallest looking freak in the school with the biggest tits and everyone always teasing me asking how many grades I flunked in school. The guy in the story wrote about how he had big problems with the concept of God in NA because he saw "God" as this big white bearded man in the sky holding a score card of his life in one hand and a lightening bolt in the other, lol.

I had similar beliefs at one point too, thinking "God" was this bad ass godfather that promised heaven if you obeyed him, but knives, daggers, and eternal fire, brimestone, and damnation if you didn't. The story went on to describe how eventually after enough meditation and prayer, pretty soon the lightening bolt and the score card disappeared, so the dude came to his own understanding of what "God" is just like I have. Sometimes I get frustrated by the limitations imposed upon me by living in a body and having to deal with it's needs and cravings. In the spiritual realm this shit doesn't exist at all, so hell sign me up for that.

Life on earth in the physical realm is difficult as hell sometimes, although I know that still, life is precious and I've got to remember that it is even without drugs. For one thing, Erik had wanted to go to Hollywood and Crystal Lake, but when he was out here 4 years ago, we were raging dope fiends, I had been driving around in a hootchie mama car with a suspended license, always lookin over my shoulder paranoid of cops. I had every right to be paranoid because the day finally came when I couldn't avoid them, and inevitably got pulled over, had my car permanently impounded by the cops, then forced to spend a week in jail, and forced to sign up for a drug diversion program.

I couldn't stay clean for 10 weeks, then a warrant was put out for my arrest, hence my car getting impounded and thrown in jail, then being made to go to 9 month drug diversion program getting tested twice a week instead of 3 times in 10 weeks. It was stressful to say the least. So these days I don't have to look over my shoulder for cops, except when I'm speeding. I have current registration tags I didn't have to steal and there are no warrants out for my arrest so I can actually drive to Hollywood or anywhere else for that matter without having to drive under extreme paranoia or not at all. Reading those passages out of those books reminded me too that I'm alot more helpful to others and myself clean instead of loaded.

Since I was given the writing talent then it is God's will that I write. As far as this damn weight goes, I've asked The Source either to make me feel ok about it or help me get rid of it. I get impatient because in those 2 matters, writing and staying thin are not as simple as they used to be on meth, but on the other hand being a good employee, daughter, friend, and over all being a responsible, productive member of society are possible only because I'm drug free. So, I try to deal with the mental tug of war in my mind to the best of my ability. I don't go off like an emotional firecracker on others either anymore. I have some very painful memories of doing that to Aimee, my Mom, and Erik, but they've forgiven me and I love them to bits.

My mom told me that my old pdoc that I was very fond of has tragically died. This was a man who I respected, was a great doctor, and respected me and treated me like the psychology student I was and gave me the dx I really had. Finally got the answer to my questions. This saddened me. He apparently was out kayaking, it capsized and he drown. He was alone, apparently he liked to go out fishing, and had no life jacket. A man wish a Ph.D. sadly didn't use his commonsense. Even worse for his family, they can't find the body. Only 14 to 16 feet, people saw him drown and now they can't find him...

RIP Dr Zella. Thank you for the kindness and respect you showed me. Thank you for giving me a chance to be happy with the medication you chose, even if it didn't work long term. You gave me hope.
I had my psychiatrist appointment today. Its usually pretty routine. He is at the end of his residency and I'll see him one more time before I get a new guy in July. The thing that was nice about this appointment is my Doc told me he'd never heard of transactional analysis I told him about it. After I talked about it he checked out an article, then books, and he has now gone to seminars and his concluding thesis of his residency was "Transactions, Games and Scripts". He thanked me for introducing him to TA and told me I'm probably the biggest influence on how he is going to practice of any patient he's had. It was kind of nice.
The emotionally abusive ex boyfriend that dumped me in October will be home this Friday on his first leave since. I know he is going to try to manipulate me, use me, play me, keep me on his little leash. I've flatly refused.

He said the other day that he was thinking about me the other night, code for sexually. I said I didn't really care, didn't want to hear about it though. His comment was...so you don't want to hear about...know sexual fetishes and past experiences with us...

I was kinda blunt that he likely didn't want to hear about that. But, Sean tends to like to keep our private life private. He said he was talking about us, our past. I said we had our times, but the past is in the past. Also I said that I didn't think that it was appropriate for us to talk about this. Sean wouldn't appreciate it I'm sure. Thereby proving that I'm not the cheating gf that he ALWAYS thought I was and accused me of being.

I hope that I can remain strong in the face of this. I've always tried to remain friends with my exs. I have always been there when they have needed me, we were always friends from the start anyway. For Michael's sake I can forgive him, and I feel sorry for him really. That if he keeps treating women the way he did me, and never comes home, he will end up miserable and too late to fix it.

But I will prove he won't control me, he won't use me and I'm not a cheating gf. I care very much for my bf now, he treats me well. I cheat, he WILL leave I KNOW that. And there is no reason to cheat. I'm happy with Sean, happy with our sex life, happy with his emotional support.

But I fear my own desire for love and attention. I have a few things to prove to myself I suppose.
OMG the creepy yellow projectiles are back! The mice men with purple fangs and dildo headed vibrators are planting cameras in my ceiling, my walls, and the siamese cats are 3 dimensional! Is it safe to take a shower? I mean without them looking or if it's too dangerous best to take my chances with unwashed lice infected crickets that might report me to the CIA? I don't know, I don't know, OMG what am I gonna do. Hey are all cream colored cameras Mexican mafia hit men or doe eyed turtle toes in pink taffeta dresses, oh shit the demonites are coming, HELLLLLLP!

Ok only joking guys! Sorry, hope I at least made someone laugh? Gotta see the humor in things or try to anyway. Peace :)

P.S. Yes I wrote this sober. lol
I'm getting emotional again right now. If I had some crystal meth I'd shoot it. Sometimes I want the old days back, not the chaos, but the highs. I don't mind getting older as long as I look hot and with this weight, that certainly isn't the case anymore. I looked soo good when I was 42, only 2 years ago damn it and Weight Watchers takes fucking forever to lose weight. I did a no no. I read my boy's blog and felt sorry for him and thought about sending him some speed to help him, help myself too for that matter! As far as your weight gain goes, baby boy, it's not age thats doing it, it's the methadone, you know. As you know, I worked in 3 different methadone clinics for about 18 months and just about everyone that wasn't on crystal meth got fat. I read the insert on it, methadone has these weird side effects like twitching and it causes weird dreams and weight gain, so it's not you at all. As soon as you get off of that you'll see what I mean.

Of course you'll be tempted to go back to smack, but my friend Aimee has the right idea. She would quit smack if she got enough Rx dope to hold her, but truthfully, though I love Aimee, there will never be enough dope for Aimee because more is never enough. During the sad times I've thought about how blissful it would be to just go blast off with her, though that really wouldn't be necessary seeing as how I have my own Rx of dope if I really want it, but the fact is what I really want is speed. If I could get a hold of someone to hypnotise me, bring me back to the feeling that I had after shooting up, I would hold onto it and get my creativity back! At least I could fucking write again. I won the Song of the Year award with my story/poem The Magical Mist of Fairlyland. They offered to promote but ever since I got clean I've been fucked with this cocksucking writer's block.

I'm not happy at all. I want my beauty back. I want my talent back. I didn't get clean for this crap. Fuck. Yeah I'm frustrated. To top it off, this movie Jackie Brown came on. It reminded me of the time I worked as a extra in movies, and I was scheduled to be an extra in that movie, plus I could have met my brother Quentin Tarantino. He refused to talk to me before, or any of the Tarantino family, but the day I was to go, my car took a shit and I didn't have the money for cab fare. Mom told me it's just as well because I didn't have my ducks in a row at the time. She's right as usual, then I got to thinking about my birth father, my half siblings, my brother's bitch wife that won't let me talk to my brother or have my sister's address/phone number. Erik, at least your dad is willing to talk to you and help you. Mom told me I should sue Tony for 18 years of back child support he never paid, but I'm not that kind of person, never have been. If anyone deserves it, it is my Mom for putting up with all the aggravation.

Can't you take some valium or percocets and see your dad, it would make your visit less awkward, just don't take more than 2 pills max, or you'll regret it slurrin your words, noddin out, lol. I've done that more times than I care to remember in the past. So that's it I guess. I'm in an awkward stage where I don't fit the stoned world and my minds not in the sober one. I lost the pink cloud I fell off of after the first year of sobriety and it hurts, though I still go to 1 or 2 NA meetings a week and try to encourage newcomers. If I don't stay clean I'll blow off my responsibilities and I can go back to not giving a rat's ass about the pain Tony the phony and his brood caused me, so where to go, but God I guess.
(Written at work about 2:00am or so...)

My true desire is to love others, not hate or be angry with them. I got to thinking about this because at work my patient's mom is extremely rude and difficult at times. I've been giving serious consideration to switching to 4 days + 1 night a week as opposed to now, which is 4 nights + 1 day.

My day patient is difficult and hard work, but his parents treat me with kindness and respect, plus if I happen to explain why something is or is not better for their son medically, they actually listen, whereas my other patient's mom, (where I am now) does the exact opposite of my nursing advice.

So finally when she got mean & rude with me another night however long ago it was, I told her that if she no longer wanted my help then I'll go home. I was pissed, so she recanted her bitchiness a bit. I want to be fair and forgiving, but at the same time I don't have to let people treat me like shit either.

This past 2 wks, my patient's mom went off to Vietnam & I've been dealing with the dad. He is totally cool, in fact my patient sleeps most of the night when he's here, but not with that bitch of a mom around. So, maybe I need to tell her what I've told my journal, but in a professional manner of course. I did tell Kelly's (my patient) dad and he said he was going to have a chat with her mom in Vietnamese because he doesn't want to lose me.

One good thing getting clean and doing recovery has helped me with is the fact I haven't had to be a sodding people pleaser, unlike during the days I was getting loaded. I actually stick up for myself without completely losing it.

All of the research I've done on spirituality has brought me to the conclusion that we're here on this earth to help others and so long as we focus on that, there is more harmony with ourselves and others. Still, the world fills our heads with such empty values such as vanity, money, racial and class prejudiced, ect & all this other stupid meaningless bullshit.

So I've been sidetracked big time along the way with drugs, vanity, and what money can buy, not that I've ever been well off financially, in fact far from it. Still, in the past I'd always have chosen drugs and poverty over being rich and sober because without dope, because all the things that money could buy would have felt devoid of pleasure if I couldn't be buzzed or high most of the time.

Ok, perhaps maybe not quite. If I'd been rich, I could have afforded detox and rehab, and at that point I could have gone skydiving, bought sports cars to speed in the desert and take off all day to go roller coaster riding and white water rafting to get my kicks that way. I take that back, being rich would have sufficed just fine, but I guess that's it. Drugs were the poor girl's steak and lobster, roller coasters and sports cars, but you get the point.

All my enjoyable activities couldn't be enjoyed before without either meth or painkillers in my system. How the hell did I manage to get so fucked up in the head? I guess that's a moot point.

One thing I loved about shots and pills was that a partner wasn't required. I didn't need someone else for money, sex, or whatever, I was just in my own private heaven. When it comes down to it, heaven and hell are but a state of mind. So I've tried to reach that state of heaven w/o drugs, but in all honesty in the physical realm, nothing even remotely compares to the euphoria of shooting up a rig full of crystal meth or heroin and crystal meth mixed together. (That's a righteous fucking blast!)

Sometimes I've found a solace and serenity living clean and communicating with The Source daily. It's just a feeling like, "Yeah homegirl you're doing well, I'm taking care of you, so don't trip." It's a nice feeling although the heaven others have told me about or that I've read about through meditation has still eluded me. The closet conscience contact/communion I've ever had with The Source has been alone in nature or at the beach on mushrooms. Not only can I talk to The Source, but I can truly hear. The useless irritating mindless chatter that goes on in my brain ceases and I can really hear direction. If I could only get that back with or without mushrooms, I'd give up fantasies about shooting meth ever again.

So who knows if this ever will or will not come to pass. I can try to hook up with Dave, Aimee, or Linda and find out if they can score some shrooms for me. I'd rather have them than meth or heroin, and believe it or not I don't want to trip merely for the high, but I want to go back home with The Source and stay there. Sometimes life feels like separation from The Source and I don't want to be divided and have my the feeling that my heart is shattered into a thousand tiny pieces anymore. Can you understand? Of course, what will probably happen is that shrooms will be impossible to get now that I want them (maybe? hell do I? should I?), however when I didn't want them there they were.

Today is Tuesday, Feb. 24th, 2009 and it is now 3:48 AM here in the Philippines.

Music wise, when I rushed back to Israel for the 2006 War, this song was blowing up all over NYC, "Suga Suga" by Baby Bash and Frankie J. Bash is not really my cup of ta but Frnkie J can sing his ass off and this song has a tight beat so...

www.youtube.com/watch?v=GYFKZPLAxdI

The second song is one that I had linked to on my BL Journal, but as I have said before, since those Journals are history i might as well recycle some of my favourite songs, as I listen to them again anyway. Jean is a pseudonymed Puerto Rican singer who grew up in Miami, Florida and usually sings in Spanish.

Indeed, once I was watching him in an interview, in Spanish, and the kid could hardly follow what was being said and when he was able to answer it was in Spanish that sounded llike a typical American accent. Grammar all wrong, etc.


However, he certainly redeems himself with this catchy song!

www.youtube.com/watch?v=C6szDIy6SUs

I have been reading, thanks to a mate in Israel, the controversial (or so the author had hoped) book by former US President Jimmy Carter: "Peace not Apartheid."

Carter was, is and apparently always will be a bloodt fool. He says absolutely nothing new or innovative in the book and clearly only useed the term "Apartheid" for its shock value and that to me is cheap and almost unforgivable.

"Apartheid" of course is the South African ideology based on the Christian Bible, and calls for strict separation of the races. Using it with relation to Israel is asinine. Not only are Arabs and Jews the same exact race, we are the same sub-grouping!!! Not to mention the fact that 20% of our own population is Arab!!!

As usual he tells us about his deep Christian beliefs and how disturbed he was when he took a junket to Israel in 73, a few months before the 73 War. It was his first trip to the region and e had expected to see a deeply religious nation (in Israel). This is how ignorant he was! Just 4 years before leading America!

I could pick apart the book but safe to say it was a total waste of time.

I am planning to head up to Cebu very soon. Rizza will be having her spring Break soon, and we will be back here but we have been apart for a good while now and she is getting antsy about it, as usual. She is desperate to have children, and while I understand it, things have required me to be here lately. I do no0 feel like going to Cebu but with the war pushed back away from us for a while, now is probablly the best time and after all, we will be coming back here soon.

I will probablly go with Dad via the ferry. He has not been back to Cebu since his mum died about 3 months ago. He usually goes atleast nce a month for a few days. He is a great son, typically Filipino in that regard. All the ethnicities and tribes here are similar in this regard.

Family is first and yet they are usually affected by disagreements that can develop into actual blood feuds,, "Rido" as they are known. We are in one as I have mentioned. Mom's elder brother Allan, or "Uncle Asshole" as i usually call him.

The last violence in ours was just after Xmas when a 2nd cousin was shot to death over it but the AFP (army) offencive against the NPA had calmed those waters quickly. Nothing makes families unite quicker than outsiders trying to encroach.

As we say in the Mid-East, "Me against my brother, my bother and I against the family, the family and I against the clan, the clan and I against the tribe, the tribe and I against the world." Pretty much true here as well. I suspect it might be the same in all tribal societies.

With the temporary peace in our valley, I am sure the Rido will flare up once more.

On Cebu, I will be heading back to the town of Danao, amongst other places. Danao is well known as the place to go to get blackmarket weaponry here. It reminds me in many ways, of NW Frontier Province in Pakistan near the Afghan border.

I had gone to Peshawar when in my early 20s. NW Province is off limits to non-residents, and while some of them can come and go at will given the right Baksheesh (brines), foreigners such as myself are verboten, no ifs, ands or buts.

I managed to call in a favour and got a permit, for 24 hours. We went to the Smugglers' Bazaar. for the Yanks, picture a "swap meet" or "flea market" where virtuallyall sellers are dealing drugs and weapons in total openess.

You would be dragged by the hand into a little store front, seaten, given sweet hot tea, and engaged in pleasentries and then they would offer generous samples of their wares. There are 6 types of heroin that I saw, every grade of cannabis and hasish, and so on.

What was so fascinating for me though, was that the gunsmithies. Working off a simple magazine photo they could fashion perfectly working firearms of any type!

Danao has no drugs market but it sure has gunsmithies. the Govt. tried to control them by allowing them to band together, form a coop and sell their goods under a taxation and permit system. Problem though was that aside from business dropping in a huge way (after all it is far simpler, if a bit more expensive to go to the mall and buy your pistol there (unless you needed an assault rifle which is difficult to arrange legally here).

So, while a few are above board, most are under the table. They can make anything you want. I ALLEGEDLY received 4 AKs last week, finally. the smuggling here is difficult for buyers so you have to wait for their sellers to deliver, for an added fee of course.

he AKs are perfect, I will photograph them soon enough I imagine. However, I wish to get a few more tools, we will see.

I have to go to Dad's father's home in their hometown of Compostela (not to be confused with Compostela on Mindanao). I love the "El Camino" resort there, even though it is flooded with Korean tourists. The food is great, and it is the only place I have found south of Luzon that has the breed of bananas that Westerns love so much.

I will not get into botanical terminology but the Philippine varieties are of a much different taste. They tast, to me, like apples! Over the years of coming here I never learned to like them but since moving here full time I have learned to ove them! HeY! ALOT better than dog or fruit bat, right?

El Dorado's prices are great, luxurious surroundings, a great place to spend time. If anyone reading ever plans on coming to the Philippines, consider that resort. When you hear the word "resort" here you better keep walking, nothing at all like Westerns imagine it, bu El Dorado is fantastic.

Onto Blood and Guts...

Sadly, the ICRC (Red Cross/Red Crescent) has announced that they are leaving Mindanao because their 3 workers are still in captivity having been kidnapped on Jolo, by Abu Sayyaf. they are being held by the faction led by Kumander Albader Parad.

ASG (A. Sayyaf) is presently, officially, holding 11 people but that means they are most likely holding several dozen given the fact that most do not want it publicised for various reasons.

The 3 teachers who were taking boat int Zamboanga were kidnapped at sea by ASG are still held , deep in the bush of Basilan. they are being heald by the faction led by Kumander (Commander) K Puruji Indama, and are being sighted in the mountains above the village of Tuburan.

On Friday, a "Chinoy" (Chinese Pinoy, "Pinoy" being the word for Filipino), or as we say in Bisaya "Tsinoy businessman was taken, with his daughter as they were entering their home. the daughter though is 10 years old. Late last night they were released in Maguindanao Province after their famly paid the ransom of several million Pesos. Just to give you an idea, 1 Pesos equals between 41 and 53 Pesos, usually holding around 44 these days. It has not been above 50 si9nce the summer of 2007.

Also taken Friday, but still being held, is a Sri Lankan man working for the NGO "Non-Violent Peace Force." He was taken from the home his organisation was renting in Lamitan, the capital on Basilan.

Other than kidnapping, ASG's last engagement of note was on 2/9 whe n hey mortared (81 MM) the 3rd Marine (Philippines) Battalion in Barangay Busbus on Jolo. Thereis no word on combatant deaths but 8 civlians did die in that terrible affair.

I will continue shortly, in another entry...
I'm glad I don't own a gun. G is so gross it makes you think twice before just chugging away. It's tempting though. Doesn't look like I'll be able to transfer to michigan to be with her, deadlines up.. dad just dropped a huge stack of hospital bills on my lap, 'by the way, that was a collection agency calling for you. And I don't have any money so you gotta take care of these'. I never should have got the fucking surgery, never should have gone through the last 10 months, I should have just aborted before putting myself through all this and ended on a mostly high note. I didn't need to go through all the hell of the last summer.. didn't need to add to this debt I have to leave behind.. dont know wtf to do.. can't afford dick, and the fucking moron waits till my credit is being destroyed before he tells me about it... what the fuck do you do with 50 bux a week when your in school?? I haven't even used a credit card yet, I never got to run up a bill and skip out on it, and I STILL have bad credit already?? so much easier to just quit


ugh i hope this fuckin thing isn't visible to anyone, they chaned the damn options.. sorry if this gets read
Since learning that sorbet is criminally easy to make last week, I have made the following:

Lime sorbet - juice, pulp and zest of 7 lemons. Water and sugar. Delicious.

Kiwi sorbet - fruit of 8 kiwis, mashed. 2 shots of sake and sugar. Amazing.

Pumpkin sorbet - pumpkin, baked and gutted. Ginger, boiled in water, strained then added to mashed pumpkin. Water and sugar. Eating now...other than the seeds, it's great. Will have to try again.

Sorbet in winter is questionable, fruitful.
I don't have much time. Have to run out the door to work again, as usual. I guess that guy online was right, that my feeling like shit is due to the w/ds. I've cut way back on my ultram, my body has finally adjusted to that, now I cut back again on Tuesday. Still, w/ds don't explain why so much fatigue? From meth, yeah of course but not opiate ultram which is an opiate w/o being an opiate. The pharmacist told me I couldn't get addicted, but she was wrong. Opiate w/ds don't cause chronic fatigue, though and I know from past experience, in fact they are the opposite. W/d's from opiates cause insomnia. I went to the doc last Thursday, got a shitload of blood panels done Friday AM.

I'm afraid to know the answer as to what is wrong with me, but I got to know. This fatigue sucks ass, but I've noticed a difference the past couple days. So I'll have my lab results next week. Anyway, can't wait for this to be over, there is so much I wanna do, that I need to do. Missing my boy. Happy Valentine's day sweetcheeks.
Life has been all weird lately. I've had a hell of a time with feeling like crap and the chronic fatigue, but the Naturopath doc told me that cutting the ultram way back caused a major drop in my brain's seratonin levels which is why I've been feeling this way. I had an interesting experience a few days ago too. I've had bad upper back pain, there are muscular knots all along the right side that I can't manipulate very well with my hands. If only it were on someone else's... Anyway, I took 2 of my Rx pain pills, the fiorinal #3's, though I knew I was playing with fire. I'm tired of feeling like crap or being in pain. The thing is aside from just putting me asleep, I didn't get a buzz like I used to in the old days or crave the pills. All I wanted was to feel normal for a change and what's weird is the fact that I didn't want to feel groggy and drugged the way I used to.

I think that's a God thing cause now after feeling like crap for so long it feels great to feel simply normal again. I'm down to 4 ultram a day, down from 10 pills and the Rx that I turned over to Mom is there just for major emergencies like 3 day mirgraine or back pain. I've been told that going back to using after a head full of NA fucks with the high and it's true. My sponsor knows all about the fact I took the Rx pills for the 3 day mirgraine and I'm still considered clean, but only because of a miracle. This never would of happened in the old days, as I'd merely have gone through 45 pain pills in a week. I wonder if I would feel the same way after shooting crystal meth again? Although I've thought alot about it, I don't see myself actually shooting up or taking meth in any form as there is simply no way I'm getting a doctor to Rx me that drug.

It's all good, like I said I'm so happy to be feeling almost normal and pain free these days, perhaps thats what I needed because after that feeling normal after feeling like crap is kind of like feeling great loaded after feeling just normal. Before I could just get loaded and shine my responsibilities, God how I hate them, but I can't do that now. It is great having my family and normie friends treat me like a valuable human being with respect whereas before I was more like the family defect. Sigh. I'm glad that's over with. I just want all this crap to be over, feeling like crap, and for the student loan people to stop fucking with me. I called them today asking why they sent me shit saying to send them the same shit I already sent them twice and the dummy on the end of the line said just to send it. Yeah whatever.

Last thing I need is to be put on anti depressants like some people suggested to me. Even if my insurance covered them, if for whatever reason I had to stop taking them abruptly due to no more insurance coverage, the withdrawal is apparently way worse than what I've been experiencing from the ultram if what others have told me is true from their own personal experience, and what would they gain by lying to me? Therefore I definitely prefer to steer clear of them unless there is absolutely no way to feel better permanently. I'm doing fine on only 4 ultram a day, but I definitely feel it when it's time for my dose again the next day. As I said before, I never should have opened that can of worms, but what's done is done. I'm amazed that I hadn't gone running back into the arms of Mr. Prick long ago when I first started feeling like crap.

So now I'm getting ready for bed. Reading about Erik sends me back to memories from the past getting loaded, but he'll always be Kupid to me no matter how much time passes.
LA is more my boys scene than Canada with all of it's snow. I mean, snow was all fine and dandy when I was 8 years old and I visited relatives in Ohio with my grandparents. It was one of the few times I'd ever even seen it. As an adult however, it would suck ass, well at least in my case and obviously in Erik's too. You belong in LA babe. So, last Tuesday I was feeling like all flavors of shit as usual, so when I got off work, I went to NA, but I had parked the car and changed my mind. It was Feb 10th. Cody's birthday, my girl Aimee's son who turned 17 that day. I hadn't seen Cody in over a year and he had been released from Juvie last November so I thought I'd stop by and wish him Happy B day and all. Goin to old neighborhoods when I'm feelin vulnerable wanting to get high is a really bad idea, but on the other hand it's not like those people ever have enough dope to go around either cause they're broke all the time.

It's not so much that I had to get high, but merely to stop feeling like fucking crap! The fatigue was way past being too much for me and the only thing that stopped me from asking to score was the fact that I knew meth would make me feel physically better that night, but then I'd have to do some the next night, and the next, and the one after that forever amen, haha. With all my damn bills I couldn't afford it, plus then I'd be tied to the drug all over again. My friends tell me the price is double what I paid in 2006 and only half as potent. So that plan bailed out the window. I didn't realize at the time that part of why I felt so bad was the w/d's I was going through detoxing off ultram. That makes me clean only by a technicality, due to the fact that ultram is technically not a narcotic and it won't show up on a drug test, but contrary to what the pharmacist said, it is addicting. I had cut my pills from 10 a day to 5 a couple weeks ago and finally started to feel better last Wednesday, as my body adjusted to the lower dose.

Every week when I have to shift my body from nights to day shift on Tuesdays makes it fucking difficult, probably contributing to the chronic fatigue. Still, won't know for sure what my problem is until next week from the lab results. I could tell Aimee was on a happy heroin high cause when she saw me, she ran over, gave me one of her beloved bear hugs with lots of kisses. I do love her to bits, but I knew I couldn't ask her for some smack. I just can't get sucked back into a habit even though I physically feel like crap, but I want my magic back damn it all to hell! The creativity was magic during the times I got loaded, in fact even if I couldn't write, I could be happy as a clam confined into a tiny room with nothing but my mind for amusement and that could go on for days, weeks, months as long as I had dope. On the other hand I have to clean up this never ending massive mess that's called my life. I just want to get better already.

I had stopped in my favorite Mexican food joints last week, then Robert came in, saw me and sat down. I hadn't seen him in a while. I'm still making 9th Step payments to him for my amends, then he told me he tried to kill himself last month. "Jesus, Robert WHY?," I asked. His sad eyes told me he'd been dumped by wife to be number 5, he lost more money to her, more business, he said he'd had enough and ended up in some recovery house for depressive episodes. Lost another home. Again. How I know that tune. We talked for a while and I told him what my story was. I guess lately almost everyone has felt like shit it seems for one reason or another. Robert has always been a normie when it came to alcohol and drugs, but he keeps falling for the wrong women and they screw him out of his money every time, and so it was no surprise to me that he lost almost wife number 5, but the suicide gig was a first. He told me he had a 12 step program for sex and love anonymous, SLA, I guess.

Robert has always had to have his drama where women were concerned so that makes him as sick as I am only in a different way. We all have our demons I guess. So I feel blessed that the past 4 nights the fatigue or the w/d's haven't bothered me, but come Tuesday the fatigue is likely to hit me again, although I'll try to keep a positive outlook. Sometimes life is just too damn much for me and it would have been alot better if I'd never picked up that damned ultram. It's what started me jonesin for drugs all over again, when I was fine clean. It's true that it's easier to stay clean than it is to get clean, but the w'ds are gonna come again as I keep reducing my dose. God it sucks. Acute withdrawal. There's nothing cute about withdrawal. I was fighting with myself not to take this addiction back down to the level of acquiring some real drugs. My doc wrote me an Rx for my favorite old time pain killer fiorinal #3, which is a barbiturate with codeine. It's just been sitting at my pharmacy the past few days. I had asked for it so I wouldn't have to go through another episode of a fucking migraine that would not go away even after 3 days.

When I pick them up, I'll turn them over to Mom so I won't be carrying them around in my purse. The fact is my insurance won't cover the cost of my non narcotic migraine headache meds which cost $125 for 6 pills and 6 pills don't last long sometimes. I simply don't have the money so I'm fucked. The doc gave me all the samples of the non narc meds in the office which will hold me for a while, but Mom will have my other Rx as a back up. It looks like things are starting to look up for this country, although it will take time. I wasn't sure I'd live to see a black president, but we needed some new blood in the office. The damn Repubicans weren't so hot and seeing as how the stimulus package passed, maybe Mom can get a reverse mortgage and get out of debt to the friggin banks. Anyway, it was nice to hear from my guy. Love you, miss you too baby boy. Sitting in my apartment shooting up in the big master bedroom is one of the happiest memories I have of life, though I've been doing what I can to make happy new ones in a drug free lifestyle. During the good times it's easy, but not so during the tough times, like now. God bless.
Its a horrible thing watching a country die, watching it rot from the inside.

Maybe I'm nostalgic, but in truth I wouldn't want to go back to my youth. I like who I am now, I never want know so little, to be that confused again.

But I miss the open doors that were there. I miss the circles (how ever small they were) were I belonged. I miss a hundred strange, small unbranded shops. Tucked away in corners, with strange things and strange smells.

I miss wanting to BE where I was, I miss wanting to be where I am. We do not fit here anymore, and what the lowest common denominator wants is so far below what we need.

Its even harder understanding and having no voice, or an audience with no ears. Were dying here, we've lost so much and are losing more every day. Most of us just turn over and go back to sleep.

I'm pounding on the glass, watching people die on the other side, but the only screams I can hear are my own.

More than anything I am afraid of getting too tired to do anything more, of letting go, getting spoon fed, and rolling over and going back to sleep myself. Of dying inside, and of never sharing what the past really meant to me, with everyone, who so desperately need it.

There is no room here for my dreams.
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