Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Bye, bye daddy.

Today has so far been a somewhat normal day in the life of Anna Grace. I got up went to Chinatown to score Xanax. I haven't been to Chinatown since the three shootings, and one stabbing death had happened within two weeks. I had herd on the local news that Chinatown will be littered with Police presence, both uniformed, and undercover. The police are mainly in the crack alley are of Chinatown. As Crack and Crystal Meth are the more prevalent drugs in Hawaii. Also Crackheads, and Tweekers are dangerous creatures when high, without money, and want to buy more to get even more high. These people are pumped up and aggressive, and will snatch your purse, with a knife at neck, they will steal whatever they can get their hands on, and they will sometimes kill to get their next fix.

I rarely go down the four streets in the middle of Chinatown called Crack Alley. Its full of very skinny women, who look twice their age, and black men trying to sell you on drug or another. Most likely if you do buy of that guy, you've been ripped off. The many crackheads sit or lay on the sidewalks were they live. Their lives mostly consist of buying crack, smoking crack, running out of money, ripping someone off, and buying more crack, this cycle last two to three days strait, until they finally fall asleep on the sidewalk, and the next day they start all over. Over in Crack Alley you can find Heroin, but most likely you'll be ripped off. Only if your all the dealers whom are your usual dealers are out of Heroin is when you resort to Crack alley in desperation to get well.

I go to a part of Chinatown call Fort Street Mall, its really a college campus, Hawaii Pacific university. So here you have your students, mixed in with your pill heads, and opiate addicts. This morning I stopped in the mall to see if anyone of my "people" were there, and yep they were there. They just were not holding anything. Not with all the Police crawling all over Chinatown, and the people who go down their everyday notice faces, they know the students, they know their customers, but lately they have been seeing faces they have never seen just lingering around. Under-covers, some of who approach someone who they either saw make a deal, or suspect of selling will try to make a purchase, and if its not a familiar face, and no-one is there to vouch for the person the seller pretends like they have no idea what they are talking about. Still everyone in the mall is giving out phone numbers and meeting here or there, and everywhere, but Chinatown. I have no idea where the crackheads are going, or what they are doing.

So I took a phone number, and was told to call it in a day or two. So I left and went to the clinic to get my methadone dose, and my take home dose. On my way home from the clinic, I realized I had forgotten to get my dad some supplies for his flight that left today. So go back to the mall, and go into Longs Drug Store, and get the grooming products he asked for. On my way out of Longs, I see someone who points me in the direction of someone who is holding and willing to sell. I know this person, I had met this person last time I lived here, but as of late he has been ill, his HIV is turning into AIDS, and last I herd he tried to off himself. We made the deal, and I was gone.

The entire drive home I am looking in my review mirror for anyone following me, I'm always paranoid when I'm riding home after I made a purchase. When I got home and into the apartment I could sigh a sigh of relief. When I walked in the door my parents were packing my dad's suitcase for his flight. I handed him what I had bought for him and his travels.

Oh yes, by the way my dad is going back to Wisconsin for some business, and will be gone for two weeks. So after I got home, me, dad, and mom all sat around talking about my dad's vacation. How much Eleanor will miss him. Eleanor is so attached to my dad, I think it is because my dad doesn't smother her with kisses, and loves. She has to scratch at him to get her to pet her, and when he does she is so pleased. Eleanor feels like my dad is her big protector. She always runs to him after a bath to escape her combing, and he will wrap her up in the towel and rub the towel on her to warm her up, and keep her safe from me or mom with our mean combs, and electric razors. Eleanor is at her happiest when all three of us are home, and mom and dad are in their bed, and I'm on the couch, and she can see me, and at commercials I run in to my parents room and play with her. She will only play ruff with me when either my mom or dad are in the bed. She will not play rough if its just me and her, because she has no one to protect her from me.

I of course worry about the flight. My dad was a 82nd Airborne Ranger, and has flew in many airplanes, and jumped out of many airplanes. The more you fly, the higher the average is you will be in (God forbid) crash. So when my dad calls at around Midnight Hawaii time, once he has reached Chicago, and then the again after the 45 minute flight to Green Bay I will be able to sigh a sigh of relief.

After that, I'm looking forward for a two week possiably longer vacation from my 24/7 life with daddy. No more arguing over the couch, no more dad making me go down and get him something from seven eleven when he has two legs, and could do it himself. It also means less dishes, less laundry, more time alone, and no one waiting for me to come home. I can go out and not have to answer all kinds of questions about where I was. My mom works nights, usually three on four off, so I will have entire nights to myself. I can sleep in my parents much more comfortable bed with a TV, with Eleanor.

The only downside is for the next two weeks Eleanor will constantly be barking at the door at night, when she thinks its time for him to come home from the bar. No more waking up early, and having dad with her. Actually though Eleanor likes to sleep in. She might get up at five am with my dad, but she will run in my room and bark at me to either get up, or put on the bed with me so she can sleep longer.

So today was a bit of a different day than my normal day. I didn't go to the airport with my mom and dad to see him off, because I HATE AIRPORTS. I used to like airports when I first started flying, because it meant vacations. I began to hate Airports when I moved to Hawaii, because it is a long ass flight, and I always end up with two or three layovers lasting more than an hour, on time I had an eight hour layover on my way to Hawaii. Luckily at the time I was still shooting up, and I had a prescription written out me for 60 8mg Dilaudid, aka Hydromorphone. That eight hour lay over seemed like a two hour lay over. There is long funny story in there, but I don't feel like getting into it. It has to do with me nodding out in the middle of eating a snickers bar, and being woken up by the stewardess, ask me if I was alright, then I realized I had melted snickers bar all over my face and clothes, it gets worse and funnier from there.

I smell watermelon bubble gum, which means its time to stop blogging.

Hey there mean Anon's...if you don't like it don't read it, and if you do read it, don't feel obliged to leave a comment on how much my writing, life, The sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me, is totally, absolutely not true. I wish I could read mean anon's blog, and go and leave mean comments. Dashing their dreams. Of course they are too scared to leave their name, so I can find their blog.


Thanks for reading my rants.

All my love to everyone who reads, and doesn't read my blog, and that includes you anon comment hater.

Anna Grace


Noah said...

The 82nd Airborne is a light infantry division that sends you to airborne school and there you learn to jump out of airplanes - parachute in other words. Being a Ranger is a totally different situation. You have to be airborne qualified which you father was being in the 82nd and they send you to Ranger school at Ft Benning Ga - THis is one of the toughest, most demanding physical and mental courses in the Army - after you successfully finish this school you get to wear the little yellow RANGER tab on your uniform. I know this because I have all of my father's military paperwork and while he was not in the 82nd Airborne, he was in the 173rd Airborne - he went to the same schools your father did only my father was an officer and was in Vietnam for 2 years and actually made 2 combat jumps. He was prolly much older than your dad. Sorry to leave such a long comment but I am very chatty because I had a injection correction this AM. Thanks for the comment you left on my blog

AnnaGrace said...

Oh goodness Noah, my dad has pounded into my head that he was an Airborn Ranger, since I can remeber my dad had me and my sister singing, "I wanna be an airborn ranger, I wanna live a life of danger..."

My dad made jumps in Panama to fight the drug cartels back in the late 70s. He and his men ended up being captured and some where tortured, but my dad and one other guy had to kill a bunch of drug cartel people and rescue their commrads. He has never spoken of it to me, I've only herd the story thru my mom. I guess that those hours he spent captured really fucked my dad up mentally. My mom once told me, my dad told her about part of it, and he said, "have you ever seen a watermelon explode? Well thats what a mans head looks like when you shoot his head off."

The fucked up thing is, my dad fought against drug cartels, and now he is addicted opiates(perscribed by a doctor) as he always reminds me, and I his only living daughter is addicted to Heroin.

My dad got three bronze stars, and when my sister died he put some of his treasured memorbilia of his acts of bravery in my sister's coffen and burried it with her. Plus my sister as close to a military funeral one can get being a civilian, because my dad is 100% disabled vet from combat, and since he won't ever see the gun solute and the song they played, he had it done for my sister. He just didn't know how to deal with the loss. He thought the worst he would ever have to feel/deal with emotionally was seeing his fellow rangers being tortured, and hand to hand combat, and killing men, and then he has to deal with something even more emotionally draining the loss of a child who had just graduated highschool and had her whole life ahead of her.

My dad has on of his parachutes, and a granade not loaded, and all kinds of stuff he brought home with him after he got out of the service. I remember seeing it when I was about 5, but after we moved from my childhood house, he put all that stuff in some kind of safe place, that's all he says. My mom dosen't even know where he keeps it.

Strange that both our dad's were Airborn, that most of your girlfriends are named Anna in some way, and we are both addicts who just want to be left alone to get high.