Life, wow! That's all I can think right now. I don't want to make a reader uncomfortable, but I just have to write about this experience.
I got a call early this morning from a person I have not heard from in years. A person I knew for maybe three weeks way back when. This person was asking questions about Methadone treatment and clinics. This person didn't want to tell where they were living. It was all very odd. I wanted to help, but I wasn't really able to. This person found me through my blog. I don't so much mind that this person is reading my blog, but to call out of the clear blue and ask strange questions evading my questions. I really have to figure out where my phone number is visible, because this is the second time someone has called asking for help with drugs. The first one I had to get a restraining order against. I doubt this person will be a problem, but I really hope they deleted my phone number from my phone.
Anyway, this person was vague about where they were living. So I went to my stat counter, and I have all the people from Green Bay, De Pere, and Oconto Falls ISPs labeled to keep track of the local lunatics, and possible family members reading whom I've banned. So I figured out what city this person is probably living in. So I texted this person, and said something to the effect of, “I can tell where you are reading from, and I had narrowed it down to two cities. Wtf is going on; you call out of the clear blue. Are you ok? Then I gave some advice about clinics."
This person reply’s with something to the effect of, "I'm not interested in hooking up, I was just curious how your recovery is going. Blah, blah, blah".
Where this person got the idea I wanted to hook up is beyond me. I explained that I did not want to hook up either. Then I asked a question about recovery, got an answer, and then another weird text. Something to the effect, " look I don't know you, and you don't know me so don't judge me." So I just texted back, "Okay. Hope your recovery goes well. Bye." Then a reply saying sorry for bothering you.
If this person happens to read this, I just want to say sorry for writing about it. I just found it really strange, and the fact that you thought I wanted to hook up. Where did that come from? Aside from that, you're correct we don't know each other. When we did the stuff we did we were really just aquantinences, and fueled by drugs. We bonded over pharmaceuticals that's all there was to it. I'm very clear about that. I don't mind if you read my blog, or even leave comments or emails, (Everyone, I'm allowing anonymous comments again, for just a few days to see how it goes.) but please do not call or text me again. I have deleted your number and the texts. I hope you do the same. I'm not mad, just really weirded out. You must understand the last person who called me who was a reader of my blog; I ended up having to get a restraining order against. I really have to get my phone number off the internet.
Enough about that. I'm wondering if other bloggers have weird things like that happen to them, or is just me? I know I've done some stupid stuff with this blog, and things like the stalker and an old aquataince calling my phone are my fault. I put my number out there, but I never expected anyone to call. These types of things make me want to go back to a different blog, where when you Google my name this blog doesn't come up. Of course that would mean I would have to delete this blog entirely, which I cannot do. That would be like throwing away five years of journals. I've lost enough of my writing from my teenage years, I don't want to lose anymore. It would be pointless for me to go back to the two blogs I created when I tried to stop blogging here. I just couldn't stick with it; I reach a much larger audience on this blog. My need for attention is somewhat fulfilled by this blog.
New subject. I've haven't use h in almost a month. The low dose rapid release Adderall is doing some good. I'm getting a lot of things done that before I would only do half way, and then move on to something different. So far I haven't had any side effects that would cause me concern. I'm not depressed at all. In fact I'm looking forward to the futer. Even making plans. Something I don't do very often, and if I do, I set unrealistic goals and when I don't accomplish them I hate myself and want to die. As a matter of fact I haven't been living in my head too much lately. The Adderall makes me talkative so as I'm thinking I'm speaking. Well, I'm living in my head, but I'm not obsessing about myself and going over every little move I make, word I say or write, etc. I've been really focused on quantum physics, mainly black holes. Where the laws of physics break down. I don't understand everything about such a complex subject, but I get the nuts and bolts. I find it fun to imagine what possibilities there are. There is a famous quote, live isn't a puzzle to be solved, it’s something to be lived. I don't agree. Can't we do both?
I catch myself reading a lot of blogs. Making more comments on blogs. Answering comments on my blog. I've been developing characters; meanwhile, I'm re reading One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest to study the writer’s techniques. Ken Kesy is a good writer. Great characters, with rich backgrounds. I have so many new books to read that I haven't read yet, but I just happened to catch One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest on cable, and decided to give a re-read. It’s a quick read. I am almost finished with it already and I started it yesterday afternoon. I read today while my parents looked at the house we are bidding on right now.
This house was built in 1893, and it’s huge. Four floors, five bedrooms, and four and a half baths. A brand new kitchen. When we go back there next week I will take pictures and post them in a blog post. The house even has a name. "The Pink Lady". I could live on the top floor of the house, and my parents could have the bottom two. We could share the middle floor. Plus there are the maid’s quarters in the back yard, which I could live in, or use as a writer nook, or my parents could rent it out. Fuck if one of us won the lottery we could hire a staff and have them live in the house. The servant’s house has three bedrooms, a kitchen, and dining area, as well as a small living area. Did I mention this house has a drawing room? The kind of room you read about in old Victorian novels. The current owners are two men, who have it decorated with elaborate an expensive antiques. The first floor is for all intents and purposes a museum. The upper floors are decorated more modernly, but the spiral staircase going up to the top floors are decorated like a museum. The current owners have huge painted portraits of themselves and their cat in the master bedroom. OMG, the mast bedroom is breathtaking. I can't wait to post photos. I really hope our offer is accepted. There are no other bids on the house. Fingers crossed. I'm trying not to get my hopes up, but I can't help it. I'm used to disappointment.
Oh lord, I got to end this post. I'm up later than usual. I took my Adderall a little late in the day, and then I was stupid and texted that person who called me earlier in the day.
Live long, and prosper
Anna Grace Young
PS my spell check isn't working, so I'm just leaving this as is. Not even going to go back and read it over to see if I missed words, or made obvious spelling errors. Sorry if it’s unreadable.