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Well I had to go back for a Board meeting and was expecting some recognition for what most people consider a really significant day. At least I do. But I got didddly.

So I wrote my parents an email. I haven't sent it yet. I'm going to get some sleep before I do.

This is the text:

Well some day this turned out to be.

Not that I expected much. This is a family that turns celebrations into nothing. See last 39 Christmases. Over the years they have just become more and more staid. I didn’t expect much but I was still disappointed. Dad expressly said come down early and we’ll go out for dinner before your meeting. Yes, I did. Thanks for that Big Mac. Great dinner for your 40th. Whoopee.

I got more recognition from the board of directors than I did from my family. All they did was buy me a cake.

Right now I am just so disappointed and hurt. I do realize that I have put you through a lot this last year but I’ve made a real effort since Nov 1 to be positive and not do what I know is wrong.

Thanks. Thanks for nothing. I don’t really think I want to come down for Christmas. It will be just another day of being bored. I can do that here in my own home.

The question is this. Do I send it?

Well I did it! I Signed my lease for my new apartment today, I got the keys in my hands and everything! go me!!!

I also registered for my class's for my first semester of college starting in january... god its gunna be a fun ass year, 2009 baby!!

CHEERS!! TO NEW BEGINNINGS !

I have years of memories in my bluelight journal. It's the only place I chronicled pretty major events in my life... my illness, the disasters and subsequent fixes of my relationship, various trips, etc. I know the entries aren't lost forever, but I wonder how I'd feel if they were. On one hand, I'm thinking it's cool, like a fresh start from that part of my life. Not to say that part was all bad, not at all, but I have been changing things significantly of late and that's a good thing. On the other hand, even if I am changing things for the better, it's good to look back at what was to see how far you've come. Not to say I've come so far, I'm like a different person or something, but it is enlightening to have away to get into a prior mindset. Anyway, whatever becomes of my journal entries is fine with me.

As for the life of present, it's very positive.

*Though I'm not back in yoga yet because of the unresolved shoulder issue and I'm very sad about that, I have been running regularly. It is a fantastic stress reducer and I'm glad I started. I'm working toward a 5K in Feb. And I will get back into yoga as soon as I can find the time to do one of my least favorite things, see a doctor.

*I finally got an offer and my current employer is working the paperwork now to match it. Amounts to a little more than a 20% raise. It definitely makes my day-to-day more palatable knowing I'm not, or won't be, one of the lowest paid people with one of the biggest workloads.

*School starts in January. I'm looking forward to it. I think I made the right choice of program, should've gone with this one all along like I initially planned. Set to finish April 2010 and then I'll start considering leaving the job I have now.

*Relationship stuff is good and getting better. We're not having sex right now, of my doing, but I think that's ok. And I'm sure it will come in the very near future.

*Friend stuff is getting better too. Spending more time with them, planning and doing things, getting closer. It's overdue. Big ass party planned for January, also overdue.

*Christmas is coming and I can't fucking wait. I love Christmas. I started late, but I'm beyond excited for giving gifts this year. More on that after they're given.

Yay! Happy Holidays!

No goodbye. Just IMs see you 2 weeks. Yeah yeah and you find some other girl. I'm never never never good enough. just Love and leav'em
Maybe I about checkin the after Christmas. But I want to take Noel can't. My mom said I was responsible

kARMA guess but i bethe didn't cry any tears over me.

how delightfully coincidental that blogs are now available when im in need of a good rant.

so i finally got the balls to leave. i am once again single and trying to find the good side about it.

it still sucks though. you get so comfortable with someone and then you're gone, back at your mother's house, wondering how you'll feel in the morning.
however i think things might be shaping up, after i relieve myself of this sticky relationship muck that's attached itself to my leg, of course. i cant help but think of him right now and i wish i could just block it all out. god damn assholes having sweet tendencies...

i keep listening to that fucking god damn song if i were a boy by beyounce (<--? i dont know how to fucking spell it) and other cliche break up songs that i wouldnt normally listen to. it fucking sucks...i sit there in front of fucking youtube crying and nodding while pointing to the screen and saying, "you get it beyounce, you fucking get it...god i hate you but you fucking get it!"

why the hell are break ups so fucking emotional? everybody is all, "just break up with him dude, you guys arent happy so break up with him" like dicks who've got it all together. but now i know why it's so hard, because of this moment right now. me, doing nothing....and there's a lot of that when you move back to your mom's house.

fuck im at MY MOMS HOUSE.

oh shit i have a final on monday...no time to waste with relationship nonsensary...or...lack there of?

ha not much going on just digging into BL as per usual over morning (ahem! afternoon) coffee before work. Fun times. Ah mary jane before sleep is soooo good. A guaranteed 8 hour sleep.

I am a bit disappointed that I only donated 1 euro to BL while wiki got like $10 Canadian. I did do some of the surveys so its all good I guess. I should donate more...where would I be without T+A and F+T. Where would anyone be without T and A? hehe.

Did you know that Christmas just blows? What a terrible holiday that I am more and more becoming adept at ignoring.

The trick is not to watch TV and then its effect is minimal.

I suck at blogging.

On Monday last week, someone broke a window on the car. Nothing was taken. I put it down to vandalism and P reported it. I was a pain because the coppers wanted her to leave it all untouched so they could dust it. So she had to ride her bike to work, and the weather was really nasty. To be honest, I'm not sure I'm comfortable with her riding to work, because its right across town and the drivers are ill disposed towards cyclists in general. I ride a lot and frequently have near misses. Basically there is no point riding assertively because a sizeable quantity of drivers don't think you have the same rights in the rule book as they do. Like they do stuff to you that they wouldn't try against another car or even a motorbike. I don't want to think of her coming to grief at the grill of some auto-fundamentalist is what concens me.
I decided to drop 7mg of DOM on tuesday afternoon. I've not dabbled for two months now, which has probably been wise. I hadn't been that well, and I know phens seem to make me a little wheezier at the best of times. I'd heard it said that DOM was as powerfull as acid, by some more knowledgeable voices. This I wanted to know about more intimately. I have witnessed its ability to encapsulate both the the euphoric and the challenging within one trip, very dramatically. It was long ago, but my main impression of those long ago acid trips was primarily wonderment and good old hilarity. Still, 7mg it was, in a skin, down the hatch with a cuppa. I ran a deep hot bath to sooth and cleanse my aching body after the cold and wet morning out on delivery. I dosed at 2pm and by 3, I was getting exceedingly high. I was in the bath and watching a piece of blue belly button fluff dance round in the water over me. It appeared multiplied across the surface of the water pirouetting just beneath the surface. The white chamber of the bathroom glistened and danced with jewels and patterns of geometric virtuosity. I was feelin pretty damn good. The stimulation of my body muscles was pleasurable and felt complementary to the hot water. I lazed for an hour or so, during which the phone went. I stayed put though. After I got out the bath and dried, I couldn't help looking at myself in the mirror. I thought I was looking in good shape. I've got good muscles and almost a six pack going on there. Except I don't have to go to any fancy gymn or anything.
I checked the answerphone, and it was P, telling me that the copper would be round ar 4.30, in case she didn't get back in time. At that point I started to become somewhat alarmed at the prospect of entertaining a member of the constabulary in my then state of mind. I went for a joint in the shed to ponder the situation. Enlightenment struck in the form of doing the washing up. Perhaps somehow, the mundanity of washing up might enable me to ground myself somewhat. Quite how this would take place I was unclear in my mind. I got stuck in anyway and put on the calming voice of Radio 4. I made a carefully constructed structure out of the crockery on the draining board which maximised the usage of all available draining space and avoided any potential pooling points or sumps. P arrived home thankfully, and I felt better imediatley. She, I can handle, when the air is filled with threads of light and my mind a little wider than usual. We conversed about our days, although I omitted the bit about dropping the DOM. We had some dinner which I cooked fairly succesfully, after which the bell went. I started to feel a bit jittery, so I thought I'd take the dishes to the kitchen while P tailked to the copper. Having done this, I started to think that it would look suspicious if I stayed in the kitchen, so I stood in the doorway of the lounge and introduced myself. Jesus was doing the driving baby. Trust in the force. Try not, Do. Etc. I shook his hand , and he continued to take P's statement. He was a healthily stocky mid forties chap. My emotional tuning was quite sensitive at that point, and I felt a sense of benevolent concern coming from this policeman towards us. He seemed diligent, and I also sensed that he took the oppertunity to meet people as a way to promote bringing the community onside to help tackle the crime thing. I felt troubled that I as a pothead and psychedelic enthusiast was the other side of the fence to him, because in general I support the general project of law and order in all other areas except drug policy. I was sober enough not to share these thoughts with him as they ocurred to me. He left and I could resume my trip. I did a bit more washing up. Visually, things were getting really quite out of hand now. All the colours in my visual field, what I was looking at and the decorations it had sprouted, were now tinted a strong luminous tinge, fairly garish. It had the vivid tones of some breakfast television program set. And, of course, it was strewn with linnear currents of energy and sinew. I felt positively euphoric and giggled at it all. I stroked my bearded chin (two week vintage) and imagined my entire body covered by a simillar kind of beardiness. Sure enough I saw it sprouting from allround my arms and hands, including the palms. This made me laugh more, especially since it was a kind of pink furryness through the filter of my visual hallucination. This is the kind of purely surreal hilarity I remember from old.
At one point I was suddenly a bit negative and dark in trajectory, and I desperately tried to hit on some good music on my hard drive. However it ocurred to me that I hadn't heard the latest Giles Peterson show on Radio 1. Iprayed for him to be on form, with something to bring me round. Sure enough he played a Louie Vega tracl with his Mrs, Anané, singing. It was a cover of a track called Brand New Day, by a Belladonna, from the mid seventies. It was a medium tempo latino hous style track with a really muscular bass but still laid back. Anané sings a love song in her rich voice and it was all pure honey to listen to. I had to get on to gemmrecords to nail my copy. Out on Tommy Boy. Cheers Giles.
Overal it was a good trip, with some moments of doubt an deep personal stuff, but I think its better to know what there is there, than not sometimes. Ithink that's one of the reasons I keep doing this kind of thing. I struggled to sleep at all, and Wednesday was a non day where I was probably still tripping but was too tired to be very constructive. I couldn't really settle on any one course of activity for any length of time. I did enjoy some good music and smokes, and finalyy went to the shops to fix dinner at 3pm.
Last week, I was delivering down a street when I passed a gentlemen in his mid sixties with one of the finest beards I have witnessed outside of the dramatic arts. He was waiting at a bus stop as I approached. From some distance, it appeared as though he had a sculpted clam shaped piece of granite affixed to his chin. We greeted as I passed. Then a white van came the other way, with three youths sitting abreast in the front. The passenger side window was wound down and the occupant shouted ' Ooarrghh, Cap'n Birdseye' while his companions laughed. I was split fifty fifty between thinking 'what a bunch of idiots' and laughing inside aswell. The I thought to myself, maybe the bloke was standing there thinking, 'Yeah boys, check my beard!'. I kind of hoped so.
Peace and love to all on sundry - PippUK

Apparently all my threads, posts and blogs are apathetic cry for attention that people don't want to give me and I should just save the world from my shit and off myself ASAP, cause thats what I feel like right now.

Someone forwarded me a text that was sent to him that said "Liz is a psycho yeah? Is that why you no talk to her no more?"

Why do I assume people are playing games with me? Why would they? I dont get why some people dont answer questions that would resolve issues. I think its because they know what the deal is and dont really care if I do or not, so I should not care about them.

Why did it take so long to get resolution to that relationsip? Why did he not tell me the truth?

Am I delusional or just a confused, sad ex girlfriend that will have to work hard to get her self esteem back.

I asked my friends this morning in Melbourne if I am crazy. They had just octo-dropped (8 snax) the night before and were scattered but said I wasn't but just had to slow my mind down, stop expecting the worst as that makes the worst happen.

Its hard when you dont know for sure if you are crazy or not. I asked my ex if he thought so. He never responded to that question, or a lot of others. I wonder why he would not give me his opinion .

A continuation...

Right from the start the house became a lighting rod. Hebron has always been a very contentious city, and just happened to become the 3rd deployment of the PA Infantry, meaning it will soon be under total PA Control and despite the location of some of our religion's holiest sites, it looks as if the Israeli powers that be have made up their mind to consider Hebron in its entirety a write off, to hell with the Jews there.

It always amazes me, to no end, how people could call ANY Jew living in the so called "West Bank," let alone Hebron, a "Settler." A Settler? We were there 2500 years already when the first Arab entered history! And yet today, because our people were EXTERMINATED, BY ARABS THERE, any Jew daring to live there is evermore a "SETTLER."

Naturally the Jews that did make it their home have been harcore nationalists, tough to the bone and quick to defence, and rightly so I would say given my own subjective history with the town. Yet the Western Media makes it look like this tiny crazy group of Jews has no business living there are running rampant and if they react to threats in a proactive way...or let us face facts even create violence on their own so as to send out a message of strength, that they are the problem.

No mentioned of the blood spilled. No mention of the property stolen (basically my family owned 94% of the entire Tel Rumeida nighbourhood in 29). Only mentioning Jews living in Hebron and violence with Arabs!

So here we are, in the House of Peace, and our own govt. forbade us winterising the building. Hebron gets VERY cold, even snowing some winters and so we needed to winterise it, but the govt. got a stop work order slapped on the building, and then since that year, 2004, has tied us up in court trying to disposses us and evict our tenants!

The High Court (i.e. Supreme Court) refuses to rule on *ownership,* but has ruled that we can be dispossesed!!!!!! No payback for the cash, no mention of ownership, no mention of the historical travesty heaped upon us, only this - and ignorant Western retards whining about "Palestinians."

"Palestinians" can rent a penthouse on Dizengoff St in Tel Aviv but I cannot buy a property stolen from me, and in my family for more than 1000 years, because it is a capital offence under PA Law!

Finally, last week, the Army and Border Guard (MAGAV) stormed my house and removed every single Jew on premise, and will now give the key to the fucken Arab we bought it from, the same piece of shit who stole it from us in the first place, MAYBE the spawn of the one who murdered my family. Tell me of justice. Tell me how Israelis oppress, and persecute....

Mind you I DO NOT hate Arabs, just this Arab shithead. He counted the money on video and smiled! Yet the Court refuses to rule on onwership???????


Ok,ok,ok. No more venting hahahahha. I am beginning to sound like Jamshyd hahahahahaha. Better just talk about my life here...OK, promise next post will be about the good old Philippines!

whats better than enforced withdrawal?

forcefully withdrawing from withdrawal. percocet may be incredibly overpriced in these parts, but it certainly takes the edge off and does the job.

My brother is ripping himself to shreds emotionally, thanks to his heart. He has got his own place together, having split up with his partner of ten plus years. The woman he left her for has devided to get married to another older fellow, and yet she still phones him to talk about things. Of course he is like a moth around a flame, and though all rational parts of him can see this, they are not doing the driving just now. He was always a bit grumpyish from time to time, but right now he is properly depressed. We are somewhat helpless. All we can do is let him bounce his thoughts and feelings off us as he sees fit. I've toyed with the idea of getting cross with him, in the 'belt up now' fashion, but I'm not made that way, and I'm not sure it would help.
Dad's got a bad chest infection, but as choirmaster at the local church in the village, he is still going down tonight for the rehearsal. Both him and Mum have maybe found my brother a bit of a strain at times while he has been staying at theirs. They are positively heroic in their support for my brothers and I over the years.
Played two gigs now in the band. The first was at F-----s, and went well according to feedback. We were supporting another band in which was several chaps I had previously played with at various times. One of them, K----y, is possibly the best drummer I've known. He has a truly joyous grasp of grooves, and hapily mixes quavers and triplets with minimal effort. He would be in the supergroup that I dream of theoretically. That gig was blighted by my suffering from a heavy bout of flu. I knew I didn't play as sweetly as I might have liked, but nobody else seemed to notice. This pleased me somewhat.
That bout of flu was a reminder of frailty for me. At its worst, I was fairly badly off. I felt ridiculously tired, and there was a part of me could hardly believe how pathetic I found myself. It took three days off work to get back on my feet, and I nursed a bad chest with a very satisfying rattle for a month. Still enjoyed the occasional joint of course. This was despite some nights when my chest was so bad that I wondered if the rate of gaseous exchange was sufficient to keep me conscious. Fine now, thankfully, beside the now resident smokers cough.
The second gig was an unusual and abbreviated affair . We were first of three at a newish (To me - I don't get out much in town these days) venue. It had previously been a cavernous snooker hall under the Jobcentre. Now it held two bars, a capacious dancefloor and a nice stage. The sound system was excellent and fairly new. We were delighted, and got a good soundcheck. The second band were 18-20ish lads playing stuff that was fast and jagged but, I have to say, not particularly inspiring. The third band were Canadian fellows on a two week tour of the UK, called Ten Kens. Their soundcheck sounded cool and they looked the part too. One guitarist was a short lad withe dark hair tucked under a woolly hat, sporting a pretty chunky black beard. He also wore a pair of glasses that put in place the final move to recreate a kind of 20 something Allen Ginsberg look. He was the guitarist while the bass player was a tall thin dude, with those small rectangular glasses.
At 8.45 we played a neat compact set which kind of was too short for me to really get into my stride. This was a Wednesday night and the audience was minimal. Maybe twenty people in attendance including staff. More a sort of dress rehearsal, though for what, I do not know. My youngest brother's Mrs came along with one of her clients. She works in a home for people with behavioural disabilities. C----n is a chap with some kind of autistic spectrum thing. I imagine he would come under the lower functioning end of the scale, since he didn't have any speech, but apparently liked music. He was indeed the only person dancing during our set. He continued to do so during the second band, but came to sit down after a couple of their songs. I sat with him and my brothers Mrs while he nursed his pint of beer. At that moment I witnessed him swifty pick it up and toss it in a perfectly formed arc above us and over our heads so that it crashed down on the mixing desk in the sound booth behind us. It happened almost in slow motion in my minds eye and I remember the thoughts evolving into sheer horror as it travelled along its trajectory.
Within seconds, the sound cut out, followed shortly after that by the building lights. The lights came on again as people fiddled with switches and the sound man frantically attempted to mop up as much of the beer as he could with whatever porous items he could lay his hands on. The landlord behaved comletely nobly at all times in the aftermath and deserved a place in heaven for his tolerance and decorum. It was, I kept telling me, a random terrible moment. An act of God, in insurance parlance. I had for several moments literally wished that the earth could have swallowed me up. Unfortunately the proceedings were drawn to a close at that point, and we never did get to hear the rest of the set by the Ten Kens. Classic situation.

Since the journal went down there has been a few times when I would have written, but I thought I'd wait. The temptation to indulge in tripping has diminished as well because I hadn't got my comfy journal to scribble in. Sometimes I don't think these jottings warrant entry in the trip reports section on account of the fact that my entries tend to take in more than just trip information. Other times they are just journal entries.

Work has been gradually winding up towards Christmas. The volume of mail is reaching miserable proportions, meaning that 12 hour days are the norm. Thankfully the glossy A4 size brochures and letters have eased of during the festive period, and the weekly leaflet drops are suspended. However the volume of parcels is enough to drive a chap round the bend. Suppose you have five medium sized packages on one street, this reduces the amount of mail that can be fitted in a bag. Meaning that a round that might take, say four twenty kilo bags now takes six or eight bags even, though lighter in weight (Parcels weigh less by volume than a bundle of letters.) I'm starting at five am and finishing at 4-5pm each day. An undeniable bitch.

A recent news report informed the public that the Royal Mail Human resources department feel that postmen should be walking around on the job at approximately four miles per hour. This has provoke some hilarity amongst the blokes, and a refreshing breeze of sympathy from the public. The fact that we must fill in a slip of card for undeliverable parcels means that for the five minutes that takes, we must redouble our speed to perhaps four miles an hour to compensate. We just love it when the office wallahs slip up and embarass themselves. The title of Human Resources takes on almost Nazi overtones when they spout claptrap as described.

I found a handbag in a front garden just along the street from a Police van the other day. It was a bitterly cold and wet morning, and it was a sad site, sodden wet, spilling whatever makeup and trinkets that hadn't taken the burglar's fancy. I picked it up and handed to a pretty girl who lived at the house where the van was parked. She looked distraught.

While I may be blogging here sometime soon, for now I'll be blogging on my main blog on MySpace:

myspace.com/rewiiired

... as well as blogs I can't post on my MySpace for various reasons, to be found on LiveJournal at:

http://transimian.livejournal.com/

... both of which have friend settings, because I like to see the eyes that spy -- or at least know that eyes are spying. So if you are a member of either of these websites and so desire, please, feel free to send me a friend request.

But as I said, knowing me, I am bound to be posting here soon...

Hi. Back again after a small hiatus. Turns out you never can escape the clutches.

Well, I'm in residential treatment now, and they'll let me leave with their good graces as soon as I find a job or get the go-ahead to just fucking apply to school. Turns out I'm unable to get hired right now. Imagine that. Fucking bullshit.

Well, after 7 months clean, things seem a little different. I'm now allowed to be angry, I'm now able to construct a cogent argument against, well - anything(particularly the efficacy and philosophy of 12-step programs), and I'm also on my 4th step in Eating Disorders Anonymous. Funny how things work out. I can only accept fatalism when it promotes balance in my life, it seems.

I also have moods. Some good, some bad, all worthwhile. I'm just glad to be able to think relatively clearly now. I guess I'll end there.

Day three after no opiates, yet again. I don't think this withdrawal is so bad, except I've realized that i become very bored very easily without drugs. I guess the more intense experiences you fill your life with, the greater the basis for comparison, and the less often you can be satisfied with small pleasures. In fact, the only real enjoyment I've derived since running out of percocet is getting blackout drunk and throwing impromptu dance parties in the living room, to either the delight or horror of my friends, I can't decide which.

Oh, and the best part? I'm sure the physical aspect of this will be over soon, but I know that as soon as I can re-up I'll be riding the opiate train yet again.

Today is Monday, December 15th, 2008 and it is now 10:37 PM here in Philippines.

The character count on these Blogs is a bit of a pain but maybe it will lead to more frequent posting, by me anyway, which has always been a problem in days past. Kind of glad my Journal is in the ether, and maybe beyond the eyes of most. I am not a fan of self realisation and that is what the Journal was supposed to be, at the behest of Rizza, my wife and others.

Music wise, listening to a Cebuano band. Cebuano is a language group here which is sometimes interchangable with ethnicity but not really. For example, you can be a Tagalog (ethnicity) who speaks a Cebuano language, or you can be a Cebuano ethnicity like my wife's Bisaya (Visayan) People, and only speak Tagalog (language).

The group is *ManoMano*, which in Cebuano (and Spanish) can mean *Hand-Hand* or simply *Bro* as in *Brother.* The song is *Nene* which in Cebuano and Spanish means *Baby* or more usually *Baby Girl.* Actually in Spanish *Nena* would mean *Baby Girl* but who is keeping track?

The song is kind of grunge, if you are Western and can get past the language difference you might really dig it if you like that kind of rock, as I do: www.youtube.com/watch?v=YCLIJ19UvoY

Reading wise it is still Guttenburg Project, onto a travellers tale by a Jew who lived 1100 years ago. Funny how little my People 's customs and ways stay the same over the eons. I find it comforting. Wish traveling still meant finding a new language and People in the next valley but we cannot fight progress as they say.

Want to post another video made by a friend of one of my bros- in- law yesterday, and uploaded already to Youtube. It shows our village San Franz (real name San Francisco) in all its glory. You can even see some of my land in it (meaning that which I myself own) as well as local things. Some may find it curious viewing, others interesting, others downright boring...

www.youtube.com/watch?v=pLbJJ3mYpDo

So...after All Souls/Day of the Dead, and the big chow down in the cemetery, Rizza, my second eldest bro-in-law Nigel and Rizza's nanny headed back on the ferry from Nasapit to Cebu as I probably mentioned.

Dad had been there already, in Compostela Village on Cebu (Island) as opposed to Cebu City which is where Rizza and I have our second home in Barangay Tisa. Compostela is his hometown.

I stayed here for while to take care of some local things now that the insurrections have begun heating up again.

Mindanao, the island I live on, is listed in most embassy's Advisories as a location NOT to go to. In fact, US Diplomatic personell are forbidden from travelling here because of the danger (alleged or real, debatable depending whom you are arguing with).

Just after Rizza left for Cebu we got word from Dad that his mum had died from her long suffering cancer. Our Mum meanwhile was in Davao City with my youngest bro-in-law Mario, or as we call him *Mayo* who is all of 6. He had a bad fever for 2 weeks and we live in Dengue country so into San Pedro Hospital in Davao for him...

Called Mum, let her know, and she made plans as soon as Mayo was ready to travel with him over to Cebu for the 2 week wake.

Rizza is a convert to Judaisim but the family itself is still very Catholic, and Bisaya have their own customs as well. You must not sleep while the corpse is in the house, and the corpse stays for a full 2 weeks (I will not get into the smell part since at least in our family there is no embalming).

As a Jew dead people are most foul to me and except in war I ill not willingly go near them. They do not phase me, as suprises Mum, etc. It is just that I need to maintain my ritual purity. I am not a Kohane in which case I could have never married a convert (and many other limitations per that caste). Still, even as a non-Kohane I must retain a modicum of ritual purity...and besides it gives me a very conveinent *out* since I am not at all close with that branch of the family. I really have no idea how Dad ever sprung from them but better leave that alone.

Mum took Mayo, my 9 year old sister in law Marian, and brother in law Manneses age 12 to the ferry in Cagayan del Oro, and joined my eldest bro-in-law Ariel aged 23 for the long sail to Cebu where they stayed until the internment.

Meanwhile I was then compelled to stay here whether or not I liked it, and to be honest, warfare aside, it is ok by me. Cebu is fine after a long time in the bush but then becomes cloying. I like my solitude, always have. Not anti-social per se, just very choosy about my socialising.

Then, on 11/7 there was a bad firefight up the road (National Hiway) in Monkayo Village, a town I happen to really like except for it being an NPA (communist insurgency) stronghold.

NPA Front 3 came across a Special Forces squad that was pursuing it and engaged it, instead of a running rertreat which is their usual MO. They annihilated the force and took its leader, 1st Lt. Cammayo as a *POW*

Then, the next week at a mobile check point the NPA took an officer in the 1105 Mobile Division as another *POW* in Ba'ogo Village which is a bit further away, in Davao Orietal Province.

Last week the NPA announced that both would be tried for *Human Rights Crimes.* Hmmm...

Just today got the news that in Davao City's outlying areas the army neutralised (killed) an NPA *Sparrow Squad* leader. *Sparrows* are plainclothed assasination units.

In the Muslim sector things have been quiet in most places, even in Moro (*Bangsamoro* is the catchall name for the Muslim ethnicities here) news sources which means that things are ratcheting down for whatever reason EXCEPT in Zamboanga which is a peninsula in W. Mindanao, pretty far from here.

We never get touched by that , at least as of yet but there has been a real resurgence in Bisaya militias (meaning anti-Mslim) so they just may make their own action, which I really am hoping does not happen.

Will close here for the character count and maybe pick it up later, etc...

its a long tek back up if you fall.

Its been ages since I last came across the blog section. I did have a stream of entries but deleted them all when an ex partner was going through all my on-line activity. She had become a bit obsessed with exploring all my drug use and what not over the years.

Its been about 18 months since my most prolific use of Bluelight and since then I have been through rehab twice and a few detoxification process. the crack nearly broke me and my mental wealth deterioted to more or less nil. Putting me down like a sick dog was becoming my final destination.

I have changed alot but am still my usual cynical self but less caught up on other peoples views on drugs and drug use.

I have moved out of London, got a new home, new girl and soon to be little baby girl, had a sexing scan. I am so so so excited....

I still have been active on line but mainly through the methadone alliance....

What can I say, I went out on Saturday night to our works xmas dinner and drinks. The food was'nt that great but the drinking and dancing was good laugh.
I think I have grown out of the wallflower stuff as evertime i was asked up to dance, I said why not and proceeding to the dance section with a new group of ladies to have a giggle. The restuarant was Greek and the music was a blend of Greek mamba to 70's classics, but was all sang live. I had a wonderful time and innocently flirted around all night.

There was a belly dancer, which turned out to be some old hag looking more like she had fallen out of a priscilla queen of dessert pantomime.

Its freezing out here the UK, oh I do miss going on holiday at this time of year, I have holiday booked this side of 2008, so will have to graft right up to the final moments of the year, such is life.

trying to shoot my own turkey have a goooooo

http://www.southbank-design.co.uk/turkeyshoot/index.htm

Disability throws all kinds of challenges in my life that can sometimes bum you out to the point where you wonder the value of that life you life. “Is it worth it?” I often ask myself. Now, I don’t mean that I want to off myself as a last demonstration of the ugliness that is disability. No, I ask the question in the context of whether it’s worth it to be so independent that my energy is spent on areas where it might be better directed.

I should explain that I live 100% on my own. I do my own laundry and other household chores. I do all my own bathing, cooking, cleaning, dressing, etc. Everything. The part that gets me thinking is all of that is done at a greater amount of time that it might take you to do. For example, tomorrow morning I am going to do my laundry. 2 loads will take me 4-5 hours to do. Lug the basket on my lap to the laundry room in my apartment, load the one washer I can use (its front loading – the others are top loading so good luck me reaching the bottom of it), get it out¸ put it in the dryer, etc. Then bring it all back and fold it, make the bed. For those who do it, you realize the chore that it is. I would guess that it takes me twice as long then it would take you to so it.

Is it worth it? I do get a certain amount of satisfaction from doing it. I have always had a certain amount of smugness to say “Screw you, you said I can’t? Well, guess what? I did it”.

But the cost is time. Time that could be spent on more productive things, more fun things, anything except the time spent doing life.

The other, more important cost is the mindset that it creates. An independent mindset creates a false impression that you don’t need anybody. This translates into a mindset where a wall is set up that insulates me from people coming into my life. In other words it insulates me from creating relationships. To have a successful relationship you have to be a little bit needy in that you want/need some other person to come in and help you with something. Having someone to talk to for example. I have created a life that doesn’t allow for that. It makes me very lonely.

So this independence comes at a cost. As I get older I can see myself ending up completely devoid of a partner and it scares me. I, by no means, am a recluse. I have built my self-esteem to a comfortable level especially when I’m in the gym. But I don’t know how to open myself up to the point where someone can see me in that way.

Being independent also creates a person that is self-centred which is also a detriment in creating relationships. When I have to constantly worry about my health, what food I’m eating, where I can find an accessible bathroom etc., it leaves little time to ask a girlfriend what she needs. As a result, I look like the one with the ego and self-important. I’m not. It’s a matter of survival.

DT

Hello all who may read this,
I have decided to start a blog, before I start my detox next week.
I thought if I did this I could:
a) get feedback from others who have gone through methamphetamine addiction
b) get my feelings out, hopefully it motivates me more and less likely to relapse.

Well, here's my story. I am Claire, from Melb, Australia. 22 yrs of age, I got into meth about six, six and a half years ago. It has pretty much fucked my life up, I was in denial for a long time until I had a big wake-up call after attempting suicide in July last year.
That motivated me to finally get some help, as I realised I did have a massive problem, I just didn't want to believe it at the time.
Anyway, clearly I did not stop using. I soon found out I was in a lot deeper than I realised, it was almost like an abusive boyfriend. One I loved with all my heart, treated me like crap but I always went running back.

My mother found out about my little issue a year ago, and since then has pretty much cut all ties with me, occasional text to see if im 'still alive.'
I know she cares, but its pretty discouraging when your own mother thinks you're hopeless! She dislikes my sister (18) & brother (14) talking to me. She thinks they will be 'influenced'.
Ha, if anything it would be the opposite, but she is quite naive about drug use, sure it IS my fault, I don't blame anybody else, but she doesn't support me at all, its pretty upsetting.

This Tuesday 16th December I have an appointment with a doctor to get some medical assistance (such as benzo's and an anti-depressant) to make the withdrawal a little easier. How much it will help, I have no idea, but I know I would have no chance doing it without them. It's not so much the physical effects, just the mental idea of having a little pill that'll help me kick it, makes me feel a lot more confident.
Also, reading the stories of others on here has definitely given me more hope.
People in even deeper than me have managed to get out and stay out.

I know that there IS a fair chance I could relapse early into it, but if I do(fingers crossed I don't!) I think I will only be more determined to not do it again, if anything. I'm human, we all make mistakes. I made a mistake of becoming dependent on a drug and denying my usage was a problem for over six years.

Having that been said, this is a chapter in my life I am quite happy to close, lock, and throw away the key. I start Tuesday (only 3 more days) and I am fucking scared shitless. I can't function without it, but I don't have a choice anymore.
I cannot physically do it to myself anymore, I need to get out NOW! before something truly serious happens, and it ain't far off..

I will post again Tuesday .. doctors appointment/first day off drugs.. I am dreading it yet looking forward to it at the exact same time.

X Claire


ps thanks everyone for the positive comments, i havent had any in about 20 hrs..plus been awake for 4 days..im in a shit mood where i cant see anything positive, argh, but those comments made me feel lots better
my mates fucked me around tonight..and hes done it before..that set me off..
i HATE ditchers thieves and liars..pretty sure hes all 3. hes gone from my life now, just wanted to see him one last time b4 i quit..but guess i aint that important to him after all ..