Thursday, June 4, 2009

To the move, and to the people who get pissed on.

My life in Hawaii, on the island of Oahu is coming to an end. Unbeknownce to me, my parents have bought three plane tickets to the Midwest. They didn't even consult me to see if I needed time to get a doctor lined up in the Midwest to treat me for Bi Polar, to get all my meds refilled, tell my case worker that she dosen't need put in the application for me to get an apartment for 1,100 dollar per month, and I'd only pay 10% of my income, and I could then go to school here and the credits I need to transfer to Evergreen University in Olympia WA, and then move to Washington. Staying here would be better for my mental health because I have free health insurance, and I could put myself into Castle Mental Health hospital when I get depressed, where I could take a break from the real world when I needed it. I would still have my case worker keeping an eye on me, and while I'm weening myself I can get my Methadone for free, instead for 100 dollars per week at the clinic in the Midwest.

My parents are so fucking flaky. When we first moved to Hawaii, my mom was going to do a year here, and then we would go to New York where my mom would do three to six months depending on if she wanted to stay in New York. Then my dad said he would not live anywhere except Manhattan in NYC, because he thinks everywhere else just trash.

To give a quick idea of what my dad is like, I will describe him to you. He's 6'1, with dark brown hair, blue eyes, a goatee. His hair is turning gray on the sides, and he is scared that he will die before I am off Methadone, and before I'm married to some clone of him. He drinks every other day, but when he drinks he drinks alot. I guess he would be considered an alcoholic binge drinker. He never drinks at home alone. He takes Percocets for his back, which he swears on my sisters grave he needs because his pain is so bad. The reason his back hurts so bad is from when he was 82nd Airborne Ranger, and he was sent to Panama, and Columbia to do recon on the drug cartels. One night it just so happened that both my dads men and the drug cartels were doing boarder watches, making sure no-one was watching. One of the guys from the cartel spotted on of my dad's men, and a gun fight ensued. A few my dad's men were captured and taken as prisoners, where they were tortured for information. The men that got away, waited until the next night to go in and re capture their men. Which they did, and in the mess of this my dad ended up shooting a man in the head, and then lost his weapon and was in hand to hand combat with a guy from the drug cartel, the drug cartel guy grabbed a shovel and hit my dad in the lower back and broke his back. He could still walk, but it ended up that more military men were called in, and it ended up almost all the 82nd airborne lived except one guy who was tortured, and then his throat was cut. My dad got out of there along with the rest of his men, and he returned home, and a few months later he met my mom, who was a pot head, and acid eater. My dad only drank...NO DRUGS! To this day my mom thanks my dad for breaking her from drugs. When in reality all she did was smoke a some pot and eat LSD every now and again. After my parents met, they dated for a few months and my mom got knocked up with me. The day my dad and mom went to the doctor to get the blood test to see if she was really knocked up, and the results came back pos. my dad proposed to my mom. They ended up getting married, and my dad started working at factories, he always had a strong work ethic. After my sister was born, and my mom got over postpartum depression my mom went to school to be a nurse. My dad landed a good paying stable job at Georgia Pacific, at the time it was called Fort Howard. He worked there for 20 some years, and then his back started acting up, and he started applying for benefits form the veterans, and SSI, and SSDI. Which he ended up getting. He is 100% disabled from the veterans, and he gets 3,000 dollars a month from them.

Before my sister died, my parents had built this house in our hometown when we were around 11 and 12. Now that my dad was retired, and my mom didn't need to work because of both of their 401ks, they decided to build this massive house on a lake up in the UP of Michigan. They put down both their 401ks, and took out alot of money in loans to build this dream house. This is back when the banks were giving out loans to homeless. So my dad sells our family home in our hometown that was two years away from being paid off, and build this massive log cabin on the lake. The house payments where 1,500 a month. My dad was only bringing in 3,000 a month, and he had put all his back up money into the house. Suddenly the payments got too big because the interest started to get higher, and my mom had to take a job. She started taking traveling nurse jobs. So my mom would move to a different state for three months, make a bunch of money to send home to help pay for the mortgage. One day my mom got a traveling job offer to Hawaii. This was in 2005. It was suppose to be only 3 months, but my mom liked Hawaii, and found a boyfriend, and stopped sending money home to help pay the mortgage. Suddenly my dad was drowning in debt, and my mom was cheating on him, i was stung out on Heroin, and his other daughter died two years ago. In the winter on lake in Upper Michigan there is nobody around, and the only place to talk to people was the local bar, and my dad was lonely in this big house he built for him and his wife to retire in. This house they had put all life savings and then some into. Suddenly he was falling behind faster and faster, when one day the bank calls and tell him the interest rate is being raised, and his monthly payment was going to 2,500 a month. Leaving my dad 500 dollars to live off. It lasted more than 500 bucks a month to heat the cabin, much less electricity, cable, hay for the horses, act..., so my dad ended up having to foreclose on the house, and lost over 500,000 dollars of his personal money. Now he looks back and thinks if he would have just stayed in the house in Oconto Falls, my sister wouldn't have died, my mom would have never cheated, and who knows about me, I was already using his pain pills.
Now my dad wants to build another house in our hometown, on my uncle, his brothers land, which my uncle would be selling to my dad for 1 dollar. My dad would build the house, and put in a full basement, where my uncle David would live. My dad got a 50,000 dollar grant to remodel the house for a wheelchair, and make handicap excessible. He feels like if he doesn't build a house, he's throwing away 50,000 dollars, but my uncle is pushing him into building the house on his land, and he wants to borrow 25k from my dad so he can retire from the truck driving business, and live in our basement. Then when my parents are dead, and my uncle are dead, me and my cousin will have to either buy each other out. Somehow though my cousin get more of the money than I do. When its my dad who is buying the house, paying for him to retire, and to live with him and my mom, and possibly me.

I know my dad is being pressured by his older brother into this, and since my dad's horses are out there on David's land he feels like he owes my uncle this since Dave has taken care of the horses since we have moved to Hawaii, even though my dad sends my uncle 800 dollars a month to pay for the food, and then some for the labor.
Since my dad had a house foreclosed on him less than a year ago, its gonna be a while until he can get a loan to build the house. So now my uncle wants my dad to move into my uncles dirty little trailer, and have my dad pay 500 dollars a month, while my uncle lives in a nice apartment building with a pool, and workout room. My dad is willing to do this. Live in a smelly old trailer for three years so my uncle can screw us over, and when my uncle dies he has something for his son to inherit.

My dad is easily manipulated by people he loves. I keep trying to explain to dad from my point of view how wrong this is. My dad could buy a house with some land, and then remodel it how he sees fit with 50k, and he can bring the horses out to his house, and take care of them himself, and David can work hard like my dad did to retire, and leave his son something except for a filthy small trailer, and ten acres of land. The 10 acres is a worth alot of money. My uncle has to sell my dad one acre of the land the house will be on for the bank, because he has to own land to build his own house. Which is why he is selling it my dad for 1 dollar.

Now my dad wants me to move to with them , and live in this trailer that is smaller than this apartment, and its really really dirty, after a man with no woman in his life has lived their for 15 years. The trailer is not worth 500 dollars a month. Its probably worth 350 a month at most. Maybe if he put in those fake hard wood floors, and updated the kitchen, and remodeled the bathroom, it would be worth 500 a month.

My dad is getting fuck over. I'm sorry, this post was not well thought out, and I just ran with my thoughts. Which is why my writing is not nearly as good as those of you who can write out is story, adding details, and emotion, and a lead in, a lead up to, and a climax, but mine has nothing like that.

I have to go, I've lost my train of thought a few hundred words ago.

All my love

P.S. some names have been changed to maintain some privacy for family


CoachingByPeter said...

If a good real estate agent can help grease the wheels and get your offer in front of a lender, you can get an answer more quickly, and potentially close more deals.

Smack Happy said...

What's stopping you from staying in Hawaii? You're 26 years should do what's best for you. Besides, didn't you already buy a plane ticket to Seattle?

I think your parents need to cut the chord - save your plane ticket for visiting them at Christmas!

sKILLz said...

Everyone makes mistakes and your dad seems to have made some in real estate.

It seems to me like your parents really don't understand how bad your addiction is.
If your getting free medical care there that's a good thing.
If you can get low cost housing that's another good thing.
I Don't agree with you checking into the mental clinic at all but that's your choice.
Have you tried sitting down with them and going over the pros and cons?
Yo where is my email at?
I miss talking with you?
Stay Up!

Gledwood said...

Best of luck in the midwest... but where are YOU going to stay?

Sarcastic Bastard said...

Wow, Anna. Your uncle sounds like way less than a great guy. I hope your dad reconsiders.

I would be mad if they bought me a plane ticket and didn't consult with me, too.

Try and have a good weekend.

Love you,


Brother Frankie said...

wife and i road out on the scoot to cocoa beach and spent a lovely few days in the rain on the beach.
i ate pain pillz the entire time.

any way, i pulled up in the driveway last night and my cage(car) has three flats.. what are the odds. i shrugged it off because of, well, i shrug everything off when i take my meds.

Brother Frankie said...

so, after a night of TV and reading maybe 400 blogs from all your friends listed on your page, i went to bed.

i got up this morning feeling friggin awesome. walked out of the bedroom and got hit with the most nasty smelling crap i ever have smelled.

seems my two dogs are sick. they pooped, puked, shit, shucked, voided and vomited in every room, stairway, nook and cranny in the house.

it looked like one of those horror movies from the 70's where the chicks wear those nice little terry cloth shorts. i mean it was on the walls, the legs of furniture, carpets floors.. but it was not blood like in the movies.. it was shit and vomit.

to get a picture in your mind of the destruction, picture jason in his mask swinging my dogs around by their tail after he cut their head and ass off.

the goop that flung all over would have been what my house looked like.

Brother Frankie said...

where am i going with this...

oh yeah, so, i used to once upon a time own a cleaning service with thirty employees and thought, wtf, i can do this.. so i sat around drinking coffee waiting for the pillz to kick in, and read some blogs..

now mind you, im still feeling pretty dang good. i am going to heat some stuff up on the stove but i find out that the stove is broke. the oven is broke too.

oh well, i hated that friggin electric stove any way. it wont light a ciggy like the gas ones can.

anyway, i spend three and a half friggin hours cleaning all that nasty ass stuff off everything. i am disabled and do not usually work in a psychical sense. i am in friggin pain like you cannot believe. but i keep on keepin on, (true dat anna) and clean all my equipment with bleach, put it all away.

all the while anticipating my pain meds which just may be parachuted or oxy crisped to work faster..


i go out side to get the grill fired up, due to the fact the stove is out of order, and the damn thing implodes on me and i singed my eyebrows.

turned out the insides are rotted and the thing is garbage.

now, my car has two flats and i have no way to cook,

my house still smells like vomit and shit.

i hop on my motorcycle and go to the grocery store an buy a cheap charcoal grill. feeling pretty good that my kids and i will still get to have a bbq burger on the fourth. after paying for above metioned grill, i get a wagon and push it out to my car, oooooops. shit, gosh dang no friggin way.

i am on the damn bike!!!! now i have a grill, all put together and a motorcycle. after 30 minutes stealing straps from the bed of the pick up trucks in the lots i get the dang thing strapped on to the bitch seat.

i took the side roads home very slow but i made it safe. a lot of people pointed at me a chuckled but i made it.

i get the grill in the back by the pool, after scratching my sissy bar, and am still feeling effin ok. i mean, i aint drank or done base in a pocket full of chips time, and i am doing ok...

then my brain fart of a kid teenager says that there is no place to hook the propane to. i called him an asswipe and explained that this is a coal grill and we do not have to hook the propane to it. duh.

then my kid asked where is the charcoal? i looked at him. looked at the grill. i took the grill and threw it in the pool.

case friggin closed.

i opened the sliding glass door and stepped in the house at a fast pace and my leg gave out, making me slide and land on my ass in the breakfast nook. i thougt my foot was wet from the pool.
nadda. i slipped on a fresh pile of poop. sliding in it all the way up to my batman boxers.

i am ready to throw those fucking chips away and have an ab so fuk in lute screwdriver if things dont get better.

i clean up. shave. parachute three oxy 30's due to extreme pain and stress.

now, i sit down in front of the computer and hit the good ole google reader. not in a great mood, but the pills are kickin in. ya know, all warm and fuzzy.

first on my list is my friend anna grace. so im reading this blog, saying to myself, this chick is wack. she told us this same shit last month.


so i type out a long friggin comment on you repeating yourself and it was really witty..
just before i hit the send off to anna button,

i see it was last months post.
june fourth,
not july fourth

and i read it already,

thats why you are repeating yourself. it was an old post.

so i deleted that awesomely witty comment and typed this shit.

happy friggin fourth of july...

peace out.
you are loved
Brother Frankie

(i am going to write my sermon now)

AnnaGrace said...

Brother Frankie,

That is one bad day. Sorry your Fourth of July was shitty. At least you have the Oxycontin. I assume you are perscribed those, because your clean right? Most people consider clean being off all mind altering drugs. Me, nope I consider anything a doctor perscribes as still being clean. As long as your not snorting it, or shooting it up, well then your doing pretty damn good. Plus your a biker, so wasn't Ice, and Crank your drug of choice? So Opiates are for your pain.
Enough about that.
Bring those dogs to the vet. Something is wrong if there is that much sit and vomit comming out of them. Although your stove going out on you, and then wasting money on a grill that needs charcol which ended up in the pool, so you might be in a bit of money crunch, but the dogs, the poor dogs. Imagine if you were that sick, and couldn't tell anyone about it, and no-one brought you to a doctor to give them at least a remedy for the shits, and vomit. You have your remedy for pain right?
Your kid sounds funny, and it sounds like your a good cleaner. My dog recently went through a bought of diarreah, so I did the ask a vet thing, and it cost 24 bucks, and they gave me a remedy to keep her stomach ache at bay.

Brother Frankie do you have an email address, so I don't have to leave long comments, and can just email you.
My email is
I've always got lots more to say, but I'm going to stop here. Talk to you later. How old is your son? LOL!

Brother Frankie said...

sorry bout the long ass post..

it was just one of those dayz.

Frankie (the brother )