Saturday, July 28, 2012

Meet my troll. I seriously just made up the kiddie porn thing, and now this...

Christian cannibal: Puppeteer arrested with kiddie porn; planned to abduct and eat child
The guy  in pic is not my troll. My troll is the one who the guy in the picture conspired with. Michale Arnett. NO wonder I haven't gotten any comments in almost a full week. Thank goodness I don't have kids, and am not a kid. I knew he was skeevie, and truly demented, but I thought it was because of the accident he was in that caused him to be in a wheelchair, and his face with the scars made him insecure. Those of you who have gone to the link to see his info, know his scars aren't even that bad. I felt sorry for him, but not any more.
I wonder if it had anything to do with the phone call I made to Florida about this guy and said he had kiddie porn. I was lying just to get them to do something. Gut feelings can be right. Trolling blogs, and entering chat rooms with the puppet man who wants to murder kids and eat them. Just goes to show how sick trolls really are. I'll post the pics I have of Arnett soon. Why is the Brown guy getting more attention than Arnett the troll? They both are sickos who fantasize about killing kids and eating them. Who does that? Seriously, all the times he called me crazy. Like I said, its the people who don't know they are crazy who are dangerous and truly crazy. Pot calling the kettle black.
I didn't post the conversation they had in the article. You can go read the article yourself if you want to read that sickening conversation. I got chills when I found this. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Its like I instinctively knew in my gut that this anonymous person leaving hateful comments was a real bad person. When other people asked me if it was the same IP address as the anonymous commenter on their blogs, then I knew this person was at least a super creep, he's super creepy. Super creep, Super creep, he's super creepy. I'm Rick James bitch.
On an unrelated topic, when you view my blog (web version) is it all f'ed up. Only partial pic on top of blog, and no pics and info on the sidebar, instead its under all the posts. Why is it like this, and how do I fix it? I've been trying to fix it all day, but its not working. Its been like this on my puter for two days now, but on my phone when I view web version it looks normal. WTF?
If you don't believe me that this is the same guy that I posted info on in a random post just email me at my gmail account, and I'll send you the link. I haven't changed a thing. There is a bunch of people who can attest to this. Who have viewed his info before. God's honest truth. I even admitted that I lied about the kiddie porn when I called the Florida cops. I put that in a comment to get Mr. Sicko Arnett pissed at me. Little did I know I was hitting it on the head. Seriously this is gratifying moment. It sucks that their is going to be dis believers because I've lied in the past. By the way you have to email with your name first and last for me to give you the link. I promise I'm not doing it for info. on you. Just for my safety.


This is one of those stories that just makes your blood run cold: Ronald William Brown of Largo, Florida, the 57-year-old has been charged with the possession of child pornography and of conspiring with another man to kidnap and then eat a child.
The Christian Television Network kids program Joy Junction regularly featured Brown and his ventriloquist dummy “Marty,” who would warn about things like… pornography.
Brown, an active member of the Gulf Coast Church in Largo, and an accomplice, Michael Arnett, were planning to abduct a specific child who was a member of the church and who took part in Brown’s “Puppet Ministry Kidz Zone” youth ministry program.
Homeland Security agents who searched Brown’s home and tool shed yesterday discovered images of bound and gagged kids, photographs of dead children and a flier for a missing child.

Brown and Arnett chatted about murdering children as young as two. In one chat Arnett described to Brown what it is like to drown a little girl and what different body parts taste like if roasted or fried in a pan.
Brown revealed to Arnett in another chat regarding the little boy at Gulf Coast Church that he would enjoy strangling the child to death.
Imagine how stunned members of this church were. If you can’t trust that your children are safe in Sunday school, when you’re in the same building, seriously, where is any child safe? The very guy who they trusted to entertain their kids during the sermon was fantasizing about killing and graphically dismembering one of them in online chat-rooms!
One of the statements Brown allegedly made in a chat with Arnett was released by police:
“I imagine him wiggling and then going still.”
Brown—who told investigators that this was all just a fantasy and that he’d never think of hurting someone—admitted that he had discussed killing, cooking and eating a specific child in online chats with Arnett.
Brown is being held in the Pinellas County Jail without bail.
Below, Brown and “Marty” talk porn. We’ve actually posted this clip here in the past.

Friday, July 27, 2012

To answer some email questions.

I'm going to be posting my second instalment of my Bi Polar post either tonight or tomorrow. Keep your eyes peeled. This blog is in response to all the emails I've been getting asking me to find out who their anonymous troll is.   I can't look at your comments and find the IP address just like that. You must have statcounter. I would have to go into your statcounter . Not the one you automatically get with blogger, you have to upload it from the web.

Yo, yo, yo, what up readers? Sorry I haven't been writing my normal long drawn out boring blogs I usually post everyday or every other. Shout out to all of you who have emailed me for the link to the trolls information. He hasn't been back since I left comment alerting everyone to link. From this point on I will not participate in any flame wars no matter what. The cool thing is I haven't gotten any anonymous comments besides those from my troll in over a month, and non at all in almost a week. I haven't checked my stats to see if he's still trolling my blog or not. Who cares if he still reads, he can't hide behind anonymous any longer. If you have a troll or trolls and its keeping you from blogging, get statcounter and an IP tracker. Goggle "computer programming" and "backdoor software". Do not Google "Hacker" or "How to hack". The only thing you'll get is your computer hacked and attacked. Whatever you do, do not watch the youtube video "ask a hacker". Its a video of this large young man ranting about how people are always asking him to hack someone for them, and why he would not do something like that for free and face getting caught and a large fine. He does give up some useful information if you want to learn how to hack yourself. The information is not worth the damage your commuter will suffer after watching this video. There are a lot of good hacking blogs, but be careful because you can get hacked by looking at a hacker blog. Pretty much stay away from hackers. They like to practice on their readers.

What you want is computer programmers aka programmers. Call or go to your local best buy and ask someone from Geek Squad to help you off the clock. Do not ask them to hack someone for you. Tell them you have a troll leaving flames under anonymous and you want to make them not so anonymous. Programmers are pretty sympathetic. I put all my trolls comments on my phone and brought it in to show them why I needed help. If your troll is threatening legal action against you because you're blogging about something illegal like drugs. For instance I know of one person who's troll threatened to get cps involved in their life after writing about their addiction on their blog. BTW, nobody truly knows if a blog is non fiction or fiction. Let them call cps, after all your blog is fiction. Catch my drift. I also suggest if your afraid of legal action, don't give out your real name, and facebook etc like I do. I'm not afraid of legal action because I've done nothing illegal. I'm sort of afraid of serial killers or just killers in general, but I can't undo what I've done, so here I am. Do not call the 1-800 # for Geek Squad. They won't help because they could loose their jobs. The person who you do get a hold of thru Geek Squad or any other programmer will direct you in the direction you need to go to make an anonymous troll not so anonymous. It is your job to get the IP address. If you don't have an IP address of the troll there is nothing you can do.
Unfortunately you have to bait the troll by replying to their comments so you can track there entrances and exits. Where they are coming to your blog from ie: do they have it marked favorite, do they google it, or just type in the address. What page did they leave your blog on, have they downloaded any of your photos. Exit is also useful to help you figure out what IP left what comment by looking at the times they exited through comments on certain posts and what times they left a comment on the post they exited out of. Within three seconds usually...sometimes longer but no longer than 8 seconds. Sometimes it takes a few seconds for the comments to show. Statcounter is the best tool for this, but there is sitemeter and a number of others. It takes a few hours to get acquainted with everything statcounter can do, and if you update it. I've seen sitemeter and I don't think its as organized as statcounter. You don't need to upgrade to get IP and ISP's. Statcounter and Sitemeter are free. If you have the money though I recommend updating it. The prices vary depending on what updates you pick. I pay 5.99 a month, but there is an update for 1.99 a month.
If you want to rid yourself of anonymous trolls who leave flames you must get statcounter. Normal trolls get scared away after you find out where they are commenting from and realize you can figure out who they are. Some are super crazy and will keep on trolling and trying to start flame wars.
After you have either taught yourself to track an IP address, or someone helped you, you'll find out that when someone has there Internet enabled like Ipads and or any pads that are always on the Internet, you have to ping to make sure the Internet is on, and then float through a back door. Going in the back door is illegal, but as long as you don't attack their computer or pad and just roam around looking at stuff they will never know you were there. If your going to do this, use another ISP, and IP spoof. Go somewhere with free wifi access, use an older computer if you have one. Make sure that computer is not networked with your other computers. Even though the odds are nobody will notice you were there (as long as you don't change anything or add anything) As long as you use someone else's ISP, and us IP spoofing even if they do notice you were there, they would have to spend hours and hours of time trying to back track and figure out the real IP and the real ISP. It would take a professional or the cops. As long as you don't steal credit card info or their identity cops are so backed up with backdoor accesses chances are you'll never get caught. IF you did, its only a fine, no jail. 
I hope this answered all the questions people have been emailing me since I put up the trolls info on one of my blogs.
I learned all this the hard way. The askahacker youtube video was the worst. Which is why I put it in the comment I posted to my troll. I knew he was trying to figure out how I was getting his info and if it was true so I put askahacker in there knowing he'd look it up and get attacked. The troll uses mac though so probably didn't do anything to his Ipad. Macs are less prone to attacks and hacks. Its not impossible, but just a generic virus, Trojan, worm, won't wreak havoc on macs.
The above information is not complete and you won't be able to figure out the identity of your troll with just the above info. You will get their IP and ISP, and location with the above information. If I can take away the anonymity of a troll anyone can. I'm not advocationg attacking or hacking. Just spying. hahaha. Not spying for malicious information like credit card and stealing identity's or screwing up credit scores. NO matter how much I'd love to mess up my trolls credit score I won't do it. Its too mean, and too illegal.

I'll copy and past some programmers blog post so you don't have to worry about getting attacked and hacked. The person who helped me showed me a few blogs that don't practice their skills on their readers.

Again email me at my gmail account if want the link to the info. about IP 65.190.35.8 aka my troll. If your a blogger get statcounter and wash out the trolls who leave flames. Put out the flames with me. Trolls belong under bridges not reading your blog and leaving inflammatory comments to get you riled and start a war.

Most important, nobody knows if a blog is fiction or non fiction. You can't even be truly sure who is writing it. Even a blog like mine with my full name, and up to date pictures and links to twitter, and my email addresses. Some people have lots of time on their hands and can make up a whole person with a fb page, a twitter account, email addresses, and pictures. Photo shop and google images can be very powerful. Someone thinks my mom writes this blog as me. Who's to say he/she is not right? Don't worry what anonymous commenter threaten. If they threaten your life then its illegal and you can call the police. If one person leaves numeours rude comments it is harassment and it is illegal. The thing is, cops don't take it too seriously. I called the cops on my troll and all I got was the officer's last name, and a report #, and email address to forward the comments you already got and any new comments you get to that email address, with the IP address those comments are coming from. I even said my troll was suspected of child porn, and still sorry mama, we are doing all we can right now. If you were in our jurisdiction we could do more. I asked if I could call the FBI, the said you can, but they aren't going to do anything about harassment. The FBI is inundated with so much cyber crime that little things like our blogs and the comments we get and give mean nothing to them. So hacking is a tolerated crime pretty much. As long as you don't hack the FBI or CIA or Homeland Security. And if you did hack one of those, your more likly to get a job there than go to jail.

I learned all this in a few days. Imagine if I actually put all my time and effort into it?

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Who would have thought? Haha

Psychologists say Internet flame wars damage society and mental health. Don't be a troll. -- FactHive (@FactHive)

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

My first of 12 post about Bi Polar and mental illness

Here is a general definition of Bi Polar disorder. I am considered Bi Polar 1 not 2. I tend to have a mixed state of emotions. I also have a disorder I've never once mentioned here on my blog or to anyone except my doctors, and parents. Hardly anybody knows about it. The funny thing is when I first started writing about my life with Bi Polar I was not going to mention the other diagnosis. Until a new reader, read a blog post I had written when I left blogger. She saw it right off the bat. She left a comment on the post saying she thought I might have this disorder, and should see a doctor and adjust my meds. I didn't respond. This disorder has a lot of stigma attached to it. Even Doctors sometimes treat you differently when your chart even mentions this diagnosis. So Ashley, you nailed it. I have borderline personality disorder. Just the fucking words, "personality disorder" make me want to puke. If I could get a hold of my medical records I'd take that diagnosis out. I've had doctors that have literally passed me onto another doctor because I had both bi polar 1 with psychotic symptoms, and borderline personality. People with a mental illness and a personality disorder are often described as untreatable. Neither can be cured, and both affect your mood. I was diagnosed with both Bi Polar and Borderline at the same time by the same doctor when I was hospitalized the second time for attempting suicide. My first suicide attempt I was diagnosed with severe depression and borderline personality disorder.

Gledwood, now you see why I never wanted to write about this subject.

(All the words underlined and colored are links, you can click on the word and learn more)

Bipolar disorder or bipolar affective disorder, historically known as manic-depressive disorder, is a psychiatric diagnosis that describes a category of mood disorders defined by the presence of one or more episodes of abnormally elevated energy levels, cognition, and mood with or without one or more depressive episodes. The elevated moods are clinically referred to as mania or, if milder, hypomania. Individuals who experience manic episodes also commonly experience depressive episodes, or symptoms, or a mixed state in which features of both mania and depression are present at the same time.[1] These events are usually separated by periods of "normal" mood; but, in some individuals, depression and mania may rapidly alternate, which is known as rapid cycling. Severe manic episodes can sometimes lead to such psychotic symptoms as delusions and hallucinations. The disorder has been subdivided into bipolar I, bipolar II, cyclothymia, and other types, based on the nature and severity of mood episodes experienced; the range is often described as the bipolar spectrum.

Estimates of the lifetime prevalence of bipolar disorder vary, with studies typically giving values of the order of 1%, with higher figures given in studies with looser definitions of the condition.[2] The onset of full symptoms generally occurs in late adolescence or young adulthood. Diagnosis is based on the person's self-reported experiences, as well as observed Episodes of abnormality are associated with distress and disruption and an elevated risk of suicide, especially during mixed and depressive episodes. In some cases, it can be a devastating long-lasting disorder. In others, it has also been associated with creativity, goal striving, and positive achievements. There is significant evidence to suggest that many people with creative talents have also suffered from some form of bipolar disorder.[3] It is often suggested that creativity and bipolar disorder are linked

Borderline Personality Disorder aka BPD. Which is confusing Bi Polar Disorder is also BPD?

(BPD), (according to the ICD-10 World Health Organization disease classification, emotionally unstable personality disorder, borderline type), is a personality disorder marked by a prolonged disturbance of personality function, characterized by unusual variability and depth of moods. These moods may secondarily affect cognition and interpersonal relations.[n 1]

The disorder typically involves an unusual degree of instability in mood and black-and-white thinking, or splitting. BPD often manifests itself in idealization and devaluation episodes and chaotic and unstable interpersonal relationships, issues with self-image, identity, and behavior; as well as a disturbance in the individual's sense of self. In extreme cases, this disturbance in the sense of self can lead to periods of dissociation.[1] It is only recognized by the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-IV) in individuals over the age of 18; however, symptoms necessary to establish the disorder can also be found in adolescents.

Splitting in BPD includes a switch between idealizing and demonizing others. This, combined with mood disturbances, can undermine relationships with family, friends, and co-workers. BPD disturbances may also include harm to oneself.[2] Without treatment, symptoms may worsen, leading (in extreme cases) to suicide attempts.[n 2]

There is an ongoing debate among clinicians and patients worldwide about terminology and the use of the word borderline, [3] and some have suggested that this disorder should be renamed.[4] The ICD-10 manual has an alternative definition and terminology to this disorder, called Emotionally unstable personality disorder. There is related concern that the diagnosis of BPD stigmatizes people and supports discriminatory practices.[5] Behavior.

Comorbid (co-occurring) conditions are common in BPD. When comparing individuals diagnosed with BPD to those diagnosed with other personality disorders, the former showed a higher rate of also meeting criteria for [31]

·         anxiety disorders - the large majority of borderlines have an anxiety disorder

·         mood disorders (including clinical depression and bipolar disorder) - the large majority, estimated to be around 96% of hospitalized borderlines have a mood disorder

·         eating disorders (including anorexia nervosa and bulimia)

·         and, to a lesser extent, somatoform or factitious disorders

·         dissociative disorders

·         Substance abuse is a common problem in BPD, whether due to impulsivity or as a coping mechanism, and 50 percent to 70 percent of psychiatric inpatients with BPD have been found to meet criteria for a substance use disorder, especially alcohol dependence or abuse which is often combined with the abuse of other drugs.[32]

A high proportion of people with BPD also have attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. The two conditions share some features, including impulsivity.[33]

Borderline personality disorder and mood disorders often appear concurrently.[2] Some features of borderline personality disorder may overlap with those of mood disorders, complicating the differential diagnostic assessment.[34]HYPERLINK "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Borderline_personality_disorder" \l "cite_note-APAguide-39"[35]HYPERLINK "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Borderline_personality_disorder" \l "cite_note-40"[36] Both diagnoses involve symptoms commonly known as "mood swings." In borderline personality disorder, the term refers to the marked liability and reactivity of mood defined as emotional dysregulation.[citation needed] The behavior is typically in response to external psychosocial and intrapsychic stressors, and may arise or subside, or both, suddenly and dramatically and last for seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks or months.[37] Bipolar depression is generally more pervasive with sleep and appetite disturbances, as well as a marked nonreactivity of mood, whereas mood with respect to borderline personality and co-occurring dysthymia remains markedly reactive and sleep disturbance not acute.[38]

Some hold that BPD represents a subthreshold form of affective disorder,[39]HYPERLINK "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Borderline_personality_disorder" \l "cite_note-44"[40] while others maintain the categorical distinction between the disorders while noting they often co-occur.[41]HYPERLINK "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Borderline_personality_disorder" \l "cite_note-46"[42] Some findings suggest BPD lies on a bipolar spectrum, with a number of points of phenomenological and biological overlap between the affective lability criterion of borderline personality disorder and the extremely rapid cycling bipolar disorders.[43]HYPERLINK "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Borderline_personality_disorder" \l "cite_note-48"[44] Other findings suggest that the DSM-IV BPD diagnosis mixes up two sets of unrelated items—an affective instability dimension related to Bipolar-II, and an impulsivity dimension not related to Bipolar-II.[45]

Now that I've ousted myself as a person with a personality disorder, some of things I've written here might make more sense to you. There are a lot of down sides to borderline personality. Impulsiveness for instants, I do things without thinking ALL the time. It’s always causing me problems. Also lying to the point of lying compulsively. I've worked on this part of Borderline Personality with my shrink extensively. The weird thing is, I lie about small stupid things almost always and there is no benefit for me in lie. I've asked over and over again why I have this compulsion to lie. All the shrink can tell me is it’s a coping mechanism that is particular to me. In romantic relationships I lie a lot because I'm afraid of being abandoned. My fear of abandonment is serious. I freak out and become irrational the second I think someone I love is going to leave me. I'm told This is usually brought on by some significant trauma in childhood. I'd say with the two close up suicides I witnessed as a child is the most likely cause of not just my abandonment issues, but also the cause of borderline personality disorder. The worst symptom for me is the need for immediate gratification. If I'm not immediately gratified I believe I've failed. This will cause me to become despondent. I won't want to try again because I wasn't immediatly gratified last time I tried. Another issue I've been working on extensivly with my thererapist.

As I mentioned I was first diagnosed with severe depression and BPD. Why did my diagnosis change the second time I was hospitalized? My mood swings were sever and the accompaniment of psychosis in manic state, and delusional thinking in sever depressive episodes, and in mixed episodes. Also the fact that my moods would change with no external stimuli and not in reaction to some thought etc. The fact that my sleep and appetite would change with my moods is also another reason my diagnosis was changed.

With these two diagnosis’s, I'm in a sort of catch 22 (just read the book Catch 22) Even if my bi polar meds do work and even out my mood swings, I'm still susceptible to the mood swings of a borderline personality for which there is no known medications to help stop or lessen the mood swings. This is why people like me are a doctor’s nightmare. Doctors want to solve problems by pushing pills. When a patient is immune to the medications what can they do, except advise the patient to get psychotherapy, and keep taking thier medications. "We'll switch them around to see if we get any positive results". If I had a dime for every time a doctor has said that to me, I'd be rich.

Gledwood kept wondering why my doctor would put me on Adderall when I'm Bi Polar, and I always said I don't know. Well I do know. People with BPD often have severe attention deficit disorder and hyper activity. Since my moods are going to swing no matter what, may as well help with the attention deficit.

So this is the beginning of a LONG essay I've written about my experiences with mental illness. Its 10 pages long on Word document with around 12 thousand words. So I've decided I'm going to divide this essay into parts, and post one part every week until the entire essay is on my blog. There will probably be around 12 posts, with around 1 thousand words to a post. If I were to copy and paste the rest of my essay (which doesn't include what I wrote before the Wikipedia information), this one post would take a person of average reading abilities at least two hours to read. Nobody would.


Monday, July 16, 2012

Sleeping like the dead

 

I don't know if this is a good or bad thing, but all weekend I slept. From the time I got back from the methadone clinic in the morning on Saturday, to the time I had to go to the methadone clinic this morning. I woke up here and there, but for no longer than two hours at a time. I didn’t even watch True Blood last night. Luckily I DVRed it, and watched this morning after my daily hour of the Today Show to catch up on current events. I slept the sleep of the dead. I probably only smoked 10 cigarettes the whole weekend. If that, it was probably less. My parents were worried about me, and then started yelling at me for going up on my methadone dose a whole 5mgs. I don't think the reason I slept so much was due to going up 5mgs on my dose. I think it had more to do with not taking any Adderall the whole weekend including Friday. I had been taking my Adderall every day for a while now, and it keeps interrupted my sleeping patterns. Plus on the medication I'm always doing something. If I'm not reading or writing, I'm up and about. Going to see old friends, (non using) cleaning, gardening, helping my mom with cooking and shopping, hanging out with my cousins and their kids, or tracking down people via the Internet.

I had promised to post a video of the comments I've been getting from IP 65.190.35.8 with running commentary on these comments by me. Some of the stuff this person writes is downright crazy. He's so pissed that I've been tracking him. I think I may finally be rid of him, I checked to see if he read my blog over the weekend and not a sign of his IP address. Anyway, when I can get someone to hold the camera I'll make the video. If by then it has become irrelevant here on my blog, I'll post up on youtube.com. I've never posted a video on YouTube. It should be a fun learning experience. Although now I know what one can do with just an IP address, I've decided to by some new software for my computers. I'm going to buy more spyware for sure.

As far as reading, I did non all weekend. I wrote a total of 8 sentences in my journal noting how many hours I slept on both Saturday, and Sunday, and my speculations as to why I was sleeping so much. I haven't done any reading today either. I just caught up on some blogs on my phone this morning while watching the Today Show. There is really only one blog that I read every day...Gledwood4's. Other than that some I catch up once a week, some once a month, and the rest every 3 to 6 months. Some bloggers don't post as often as I do. Actually most of the bloggers I follow don't post on daily or even weekly basis.

I've gotten my NOOK out, and charged up, and pulled up Jane Eyre start reading as soon as I get my shit together. Hopefully tonight I'll get some reading in. I still have to take a shower, and straighten my hair, dust my room, vacuum, run the dishes through the dishwasher, and do a couple loads of laundry.

My mom is busy today with some kind of church fair, and she'll be doing that all week. She's in charge of baking the treats, and teaching the kids about how food relates to Jesus. How food relates to Jesus, I have no idea. She's probably going to tell the story of Jesus turning water to wine and something with fish and bread. Man, I'm bad at this religion/theology stuff. I even went to Catholic school all throughout elementary school. It's just recently that my mom has gotten back into the Catholic Church. She goes to mass every Sunday, and is in the choir. She's has choir practice every Thursday, and after choir practice she goes to some sort of bible study.

Since I was a small child my mom has gone through her various religious fazes. The worst of which was The Pentecostal church. She made me and my sister go with her every Wednesday and Sunday. While church was going on all the kids went to the basement and had kiddie church. We saw people speaking in tongues, and women who were being beat, but the pastor would tell them to stay and work it out. Divorce is a sin...blah blah blah. It just so happens that my babysitter who shot himself in front of me and Angie, and his own son was one of husbands who beat his wife. She was leaving him and the church. So he decided he'd blow his head off in the garage with the door open while we kids were playing on the snow bank right in front of the door. That craziness all ended after my paternal grandparents died, and we started Catholic school. She then got back into the Catholic Church. She was even my CCD teacher one year. The year before my confirmation I was thrown out of CCD for misbehaving. My mom was pissed. Not at me, but at the church for giving up on a child. So she started reading books on witches. Soon she was a Wiccan and that lasted a long time. Pretty much my entire adult life. Now she's turned back to the Catholic Church. I pretty sure it’s to appease her mother. They've always had a strained relationship. Now that Grandma Grace is getting up there in age, mom wants to put all that bad blood to rest. I don't mind as long as she doesn't push it on me. As long as she's happy I'm happy for her. She seems to be very happy.

Oh yes, I got a comment from someone who didn't follow me when I switched blogs, and doesn't know that I wasn't living in Hawaii for those weeks I lied and said I was living there. I lied even to my family and friends. Only very close family knew I wasn't in Hawaii. My Grandma thought I lived in Hawaii even. Some family still does not know that I'm not living in Hawaii right now. I've blocked them from my Facebook, so they never seen my status updates that have the area I'm updating from. Oh well. I don't really like them. Don't get me wrong I love them. After all they are family, it’s just we have zero in common.

On Friday I learned that there is no need for me to take the condensed math courses, instead I'll being taking them normally. Turns out that even if I took the condensed classes I wouldn't be finished in time to be where I need to be. I wouldn't have the money together by the time it has to be paid. Even if the condensed course did finish in time, and I had all the money sorted out, my life would be in an upheaval for the next couple of months. Running here and there and it’s a pretty far distance to being running back and forth in such a short span of time. I'm disappointed that everything didn't work out. There is an upside to this though. I can take a few other classes along with the two math classes. I start September 3rd. I have to be registered by August 6th. After the semester is over I will hopefully have the money issue sorted out, and will be able to go on with the plan that crashed and burned this time. The reason I didn't take my pills all weekend is because I was pretty depressed about everything, and I just wanted to forget it ever happened. Doesn’t it always seem like when you let yourself believe something good is going to happen it ends up not happening, and when you’re sure it will not work out, it ends up working out. It’s always like that for me. I've been aware of this letting you believe, and not letting yourself believe thing. So I try to counter act it, by making myself feel like nothing will ever work out. When I'm aware of it, it doesn't work. This time I didn't even have time to think about my counteraction measures, and let myself believe without even thinking of the adverse effects of letting myself believe. Although when the opposite happens, it ends up working out. I always have to be unaware of it for it to work out this way. I didn't explain that last part well, did I? I'm probably the only one that this happens to.

My poor Eleanor has this lump on her boob, and we took her into the vet to biopsy it. It is benign aka non-cancerous. Although she has enlarged lymph nodes, and a lot of white blood cells, which is an indicator for cancer. The vet wants to do a whole battery of tests, and it costs a fortune. So with me taking classes this fall, and Elle getting a bunch of tests, money is low. Her back leg is much better; she's no longer limps badly. I mean she’s always had a limp, but that's because she was born with her left legs knee fused together. So she can't bend it very much. She sits differently than most dogs, with that leg hanging out.

Fuck I have to stop writing; my fucking dad is drinking and slurping. I want to slit his fucking throat. Put a fucking ice cube in it if it’s too hot. IDIOT. I sill hate anonymous 65.190.35.8 more!!!!

Thursday, July 12, 2012

The future so bright I need a pair of sunglasses

 
I cannot think of anything to write about. I finished Naked Lunch yesterday, and this morning I wrote up a critique of the book. Being totally honest, I didn't much enjoy reading this particular book. I can appreciate the beauty of his prose, and his experimenting with different book structures, and creating a different form of book, not a novel, not a memoir/biography, and not poetry. It really doesn't fit into any categorization of book. When I first read On the Road I thought wow, he really played with idea of traditional novel formats, and way of telling a story. I enjoyed the book, On the Road because there was a story being told. I'm not sure which book was written and published first. I don't know if Kerouac read Naked Lunch and was inspired or if Burroughs read On the Road and was inspired. Naked Lunch by far the more experimental of the two. Actually now that I think of it, I remember reading somewhere that Allen Ginsberg dared Burroughs to write something, but I can't remember if it was Naked Lunch or Junky. I do distinctly remember reading somewhere that one of these books was written on a dare, or bet of some kind. I do know that Junky was the first book that Burroughs wrote, although it wasn't the first of his books to be published.

So it’s onto another book. I keep telling myself it's time to read War and Peace, but I always end up picking up a different book. I haven't looked through my library to pick a book. I downloaded a bunch of classic novels onto my Nook that I could read. I really want to read Jane Eyre. Hell with it, that's what I'm going to read now. I have no clue what the book is about, because I didn't read the blip they have about every book you download that tells you the premise of the book. I've no idea where it is set, or what language it was originally written in.

Sorry to bore you guys who come here to read about how much I hate myself and want to die, and my drug use. Those things don't really interest much right now. I don't know if it’s that I've written about it too much and am just sick of it, or if I've changed in some way, and those things don't have a place in my life anymore, and therefore are not interesting to me. If someone told me right now that I had to write about hating myself and drugs I would struggle. When I write I have to have some emotion fueling me. Perhaps now that I'm on MMT and at a stable dose my emotions are being suppressed just as heroin/opiates suppress emotions. There is a huge emotion fueling me to write about books, and authors right now. The thing is I promised myself I would not blog about it until everything has been ironed out, and it either happens or falls through. No, it has nothing to do with moving into that house. Although it is giving a reason for my parents to rethink buying that house. Titillating huh. LOL.

In other news, I'm taking two classes at the local technical college. Both math classes, I bet you’re surprised that I'm taking math and not composition or lit, or something to do with my interests. I have my reasons. I'm doing what is called a condensed course, which means I will be finished with both classes in just over a month, instead of taking a full semester to finish. The catch, I have to go to the technical school every weekday for 8 hours, 4 hours per class. A plus, I get a private tutor, who will be available to me every day except Sundays. This tutor will even be in the class with me, and if I wish will take notes for me, or make sure I'm getting all the notes, and the important notes. Although I don't know how much note taking you do in a math class.

You’re wondering why I get a private tutor at my disposal everyday all day for free. It just so happens I have a learning disability in mathematics, and it was in my high school transcripts that I sent in. I had no idea how much colleges are willing to cater to students with learning disabilities. I get to take as much time as I need on any test or quiz I'm given. There are a few other perks, but those are the big ones. In high school I was able to graduate without taking these classes because I had the learning disability. I should have just taken them anyway, and I wouldn't have to be doing it now, 11 years after I graduated high school.

There is a catch to all this and it has to do with money. I'm looking into that, in depth. This all started on a lark because I was bored. I never even imagined anything would come from it. I thought the experience and the writing involved would be a challenge, and a chance to learn something. I didn't even think about it after I did it until yesterday when I was reminded.

Needless to say, when everything is figured out, I will explain everything, and don't worry those of you out there that doubt everything I say, I will have photos to prove everything.

Different subject, I have this post I'm working on that is all about my experiences as a person with Bi Polar disorder. I want it to be really good, because Gledwood asked me to write about this subject many times, and I never really have gone in depth about it.

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Reading Naked Lunch


As I've stated in a previous post, I'm again attempting to read Naked Lunch. I took it off the book shelf the other day, but I didn't start to read it until today. This is my first time reading it on amphetamines. For the first time I was able to sit and read the book for more than a half hour at a time. I made it to page 77 the restored text edition of the book. Just in case you happen to have a copy, and want to know what part I'm on right now, you can see. As long as you have the restored text edition of the book. If not, the page numbers are probably a little different.
Burroughs with gun. He accidently shot his wife in the head while doing the shoot the apple off the top of head trick (I forget the name, is it the Teller trick?)

I also went to the back of the book and read the original introduction, letters form William S. Burroughs to the editor, and by far the most interesting part of (in back of the book) Naked Lunch is" Letters From a Master Addict to Dangerous Drugs" in which Burroughs talks about the effects of the drugs he has used, and also writes about how addictive certain drugs are. Most noteablely he writes about cures, and speculates to why morphine is addicting and Coke isn’t. Everything he writes here is clear and concise. If you are not an addict I suggest you Google "Letters from a Master Addict to Dangerous Drugs" by William S. Burroughs. He puts into words something I thought was ineffable. I find his notes, and thoughts on the different cure most interesting. When he writes about the psychological addiction, after the physical addiction, and what cure he has taken that have to an extent relieved this psychological addiction.
Willaim S. Burroughs circa 1959


For me the psychological withdrawals are the worst. I can suffer the pain of the physical withdrawals if I know there is no possible way I can get any type of opiate to relieve the withdrawals. If I wasn't on methadone right now, and was reading this book, or any book having to do with opiates, even if I see a syringe in doctor’s office when I'm not using any type of opiate, I will have an immediate and intense craving for heroin. I will fixate on it, and not stop until I get high. Even while on methadone I've still had psychological cravings for heroin. The proof is in the pudding, just go into my past posts. This is the first time I've had no urge to use heroin or any other opiate while reading about it. I'm not sure what has changed. Perhaps my last relapse has settled my appetite for opiates. I'm still interested in the subject, mainly because I can relate to the subject so much.

I also think I figured out why I've never been able to follow the book. It is NOT a novel. There is no set structure to the book, and in that is the structure of the book. There is a lot of non-sense in the book. Made up words, and the use of 40's slang in multiple languages. I like the gore, and the rawness of the book. The prose is brilliant. I'd compare the gore Burroughs makes so beautiful to bleakness and gore Shane aka HeroinHead's makes so beautiful with his prose here in blogger land. Shane HeroinHead has been compared to many great authors and poets.

I’m pretty sure; tonight or tomorrow I’ll finish Naked Lunch, write a critique/book report and understand the book as much as it is supposed to be understood.



Note: When I said I never followed Naked Lunch because there is a lot of Spanish in it, I was thinking of a different Burroughs book, Wild Boys, the book of the dead.  

Sunday, July 8, 2012

Haveing a job is an honerable way to live


Another part of the post about life passing me by has been stuck in my mind. In the post I slagged on people who work for a living at jobs they hate, and I said the only interesting thing most people will do is have children. I slighted people who stayed in their hometowns after high school, or college.

I have friends from high school, some of whom stayed in Oconto Falls WI or within 20 to 30 miles. I have friends whom have moved far, far away from Oconto Falls, and married people they met in college, not someone they have known since childhood. Some of them work at super cool jobs they love, some work at job they "don't mind" to support themselves and/or families. My best friend moved to the largest city in Wisconsin, where she went to college, and she married a man she only knew since she was an adult. She works at an awesome job she loves; she has a house...a really nice house. She dresses to the nines, and a body to die for. She is literally the nicest person you will ever meet. When I picked a best friend in 3rd grade I picked well. Actually she picked me. It’s a cute story, but it has nothing to do with this posts theme. My best friend’s sister moved to San Francisco, and then to Seattle where she now lives with her husband and two small sons. I envy both of their lives. I envy them for having each other. I could go into my sister here, but again nothing to do with the theme.

I bragged in that post how I've lived in so many different states, and cities. How I've been homeless, and had to dance topless to get out of the situation I was in. I bragged how I became addicted to heroin, and had sex for money. I said something to the effect, that if everyone had the luxury I have to not have to work, they too would have interesting lives too. Not implying that people with jobs don't have interesting lives, I stated it as if it were a fact. I also said, after having kids their lives become dull.

Really what I said was majority of American lives suck. I took a deep look inside myself, and at my life. I came to the realization that having a job makes life more interesting. You get to meet all kinds of new people, and make friends with new people. You also have a feeling of self-worth, and that full filling feeling of accomplishing something every day. Making a difference in some way to the world is it big or small.

Just because these people took the road most traveled doesn't make them less interesting or unimportant. They don't have messed up thought processes. They realized become a drug addict would eventually destroy your life. No matter how fun getting high on hard drugs can be, it can also turn into a monkey on your back. A lot of my high school friends smoke pot, and drink. We all need to escape somehow from something, sometime. Smoking pot is no longer the taboo it once was. Still parents don't tell other people that they still toke up.

People move away from home, and find themselves during their early 20's. Some find that they are meant to stay away from their one time home town. Others find they are happier close to town, their home their families. I've been out on my own without my parents, and I got myself wrapped up in drugs, and legal troubles. To the point I either had to go back to my parents. The only reason I didn't move back to my hometown, is because my parents no longer lived in my hometown. I was lucky in that I got to travel for free with my mom, and my mom and dad.

My mom and dad worked their adult lives at jobs they didn't love because they loved my sister and me. They wanted to give us everything we needed, and to also be able to give us things we wanted. We have always lived in nice homes. Had nice clothes, and never went hungry. We got a computer in 1995 when AOL was big. The internet was mostly used for porn, and chat rooms, which were used for cybersex.

I said people stay within 20 miles of their home town, even if they leave for a while, they always come back. Take a good look at yourself Anna, you live 30 minutes from your hometown. Just like most people. Although if I had the guts, money, and a real plan I would move far away from here. I've been writing about it since I started journaling, and if you read my blog I've made plan to move hundreds of times, but I haven't done it yet. I have SSI, and I could go back to school for cheap. Instead I take classes here and there in my field of interest.

I've achieved my goal of becoming a heroin addict, and I wrote a book and it was published by a vanity publisher. Not quit what I had wanted, but I accomplished it. Of course if I could take it back, I would totally re write that book, and paid for editing myself, by a free-lance editor. Not just line edit, but a content edit. I can always write another book. I'm learning from my mistakes.

I used to want to get of Methadone so I could go back to using. Thinking I could keep my using under control. STUPID! I tried it, and my life spun out of control in just over six months. It’s taken me a long time to learn from that mistake.

Eventually if I don't die from learning from my mistakes, and I accomplish my goals, I someday would like to have kids. I would like to have a relationship with a woman or a man. I'm not picky, as long as I'm in love, and respect the person. I want a job; I want to be a writer.

Am I just another sheep? I hate to admit these things about myself, but it’s the truth. I have the same hopes and dreams as 90% of the people on Earth, no just America. I've lucked out in life...in some ways. I have awesome parents who love me to death (literally) I have money coming in, I have MMT, and I have life experience. I still have lots of life experiences to live. I'm turning 30 in 2013, who knows what that decade is going to throw at me.

I got my period before all the other girls


I've been thinking about the post titled, has life passed me by a lot since I wrote it. I wrote the post in haste. Instead of stopping to think and evaluate I just wrote. I've been going over and over it in my head. How things have changed since I started journaling and blogging up to now. All day yesterday I looked at my journals, starting when I was 14. From 14 to 17 there are some gaps, but after 17 I've almost every day written down. Some days were summed up in one sentence. Other days took up 10 pages of my journal front and back. After reading at least one week of each year of journals I am sure I have not let life pass me by.

In my very first journal there was a lot written about how much I wanted to use heroin. How I wanted to learn to play the guitar and start a band. How I thought all my friends were so uncool, and how my taste in music was so much better than everyone else’s. Now I know everyone thinks their taste in music is the best. Almost every day thru out my teens I wrote down my weight, and I always thought I was too fat. I look back now and see 132lbs, and I think, oh my god Anna, you were so skinny. Why didn't you live it up and show off your body all the time?

In one of my entries I reminisced about 6th grade, and how I went from 80lbs to 110lbs in the span of a summer vacation. The summer before sixth grade I had never had a pimple and by winter semester of sixth grade I had pimples all over my forehead, and blackheads on my nose. Summer before sixth grade I hardly ever thought about boys to thinking about boys all the time, thinking about sex with boys. My face was still cute in that childish way during summer, and now it was awkward, and it seemed the worst time for my face to no longer be little girl cute, because now I wanted boys to notice. I didn't have to wear deodorant; I didn’t have hair growing in places it never grew before, now I did. All of this came to a head in May 1994 when during 4th period, I got a hallway pass to the bathroom. I had to poop really badly, and it was making my back hurt, and my stomach cramp. When I got to the bathroom, I was relieved because no one else was in there. So I went potty. I finished and wiped. I noticed blood on the toilet tissue. Blood was in the toilet. I thought at first I had pooped blood. I noticed in my white cotton panties was blood. I realized I was having my first period, and I just started sobbing. I didn't go back to class, and when the bell rang I went to my best friend and told her what happened. She still hadn't gotten hers, but she was much more on the ball than I was. We both went to the office, and I called my mom. I was sobbing while I told her, and my bf was trying to soothe me. My mom got off work early and drove the half hour home to pick me up. I wouldn't leave without my bf. The school let her call her mom to ask to go home with me, and her mom said yes. So we left school and went to the store and bought maxi pads, tampons, pamprin, feminine deodorant spray, douche, panty liners. We bought a chocolate cake, and the movie My Girl. I remember this day being one of the worst and best days of my life.

In 7th grade, I was even more awkward, plus I had a really bad haircut, and I tried to dye it blonde but it turned out orange and brassy. I didn't know that hair my dark needed to be bleached. I would also get monster zits. As you know I'm a pimple picker. Often my pimples would get really big, red, swollen, and painful. So I would try to pop them, and all that would happen is clear liquid would ooze out. Me being a glutton for punishment, I'd keep picking at it until it turned into this huge sore on my face. Finally it would pop and puss would shoot onto the mirror. The relief I felt when that pimple would pop in-between my two index fingers and puss...finally puss. After it would pop it would scab over and heal in a couple days. I started wearing makeup, but had no idea what I was doing. I would buy foundation that did not match my skin, and it was either too orange, or too tan. I would have a very noticeable makeup line on my neck. I was clueless when it came to eye makeup. I'd only put eye liner under my eyes. I'd put on pink eye shadow, and mascara. If I had a huge sore on my face, I caked foundation on it. I didn't have a clue about concealer. I had to have everything name brand, so I had these expensive jeans. I would try to copy the looks of the girls in Seventeen magazines. This was the time of grunge. I didn't get that grunge was totally against name brands, and it was all about not trying. Here I was trying my hardest, wearing the flower dresses with a tee shirt underneath, and big black combat boots, (name brand Doc Martins of course) I made my mom pay 100 bucks for a pair of combat boots, that I could have got for 5 bucks at the Army surplus store. I had flannels, and under those flannels I had the newest coolest "No Fear" tee shirts. There were no hip stores in Green Bay much less Oconto Falls, and there was no internet stores where I could buy the clothes I really wanted. I had to find catalogues that had the type of clothes I wanted. The one thing I wanted more than anything was a Nirvana shirt or the shirt with Kurt Cobain on it and had his birthday and death dates on it. I had no idea where to get these shirts.

At this time I was still friends with my best friend since 3rd grade. We had our clique, and my friends were the popular ones. I was the only one with my period in this clique, but they were all going through the change I went through during sixth grade. Of course I felt fat because all my friends still had their childhood bodies with no hips, or belly fat, no boobs, and they were just having their pre-pubescent weight gains which made them still smaller than I was. I was stuck with this pubescent body that weighed now 115lbs. If one day I were to show up to school in anything but a flower dress, or tee shirt and jeans with big black boots, I was made fun of all day. So much so that no matter how much my mom had spent on that outfit, I would never wear it again. The boys were very mean, and noticed every flaw you had. Not a day went by were a boy didn't make fun of me for wearing makeup, and a bra. The girls were nice to your face, but behind your back they were bitches. This one boy would slap my thighs and say, look at them shake, even though they weren't shaking everyone laughed.

Then 8th grade came along. During the summer my friends had gotten their periods. I had already had mine almost two years. So when I was going through all those changes I had nobody to talk to about it who understood. Now all the girls were going through it together and had each other for support. What had seemed so drastic changes in me didn't seem so drastic in my friends. My friends had older sisters who taught them how to wear makeup, and could borrow each other’s cool clothes. By 8th grade I was starting to fit into my body. I realized the grunge look was about not trying. Thrift stores and underground bands. I didn't like my friends any more. They were still into the name brand stuff, and they liked the boys in our grade. I liked the older boys. My friends liked Boyz to Men, and I liked Babes in Toyland, and PJ Harvey. I started smoking, and sneaking out. My hair was growing out, and I died it black #1. I found a Hole tee shirt and a pair of plaid pants at St. Vincent’s DePaul thrift store. I started writing bad poetry, and hanging out with the "dirtballs". I wanted to use heroin, and start a band. This is wear my journaling starts. Just as I cast myself out, and then felt sorry for myself because no one understood me.

As I read my journals during my teenage years I was brought back to that time. I could remember the feelings, even the surroundings, smells, and music. I had blocked out parts of the past, which suddenly I saw in black on white on the pages of my journal. How I was the school whore, because I lost my virginity so young, and because everyone herd about it within minutes of having lost it. Even though I didn't have sex again until I was 16, and had a steady boyfriend. I did cheat on him, and one day I skipped last period with a bunch of boys from my class, and we went to one of their houses and got drunk. I ended up taking one of the boy’s virginity, and I was blackout drunk. I later found out that the other boys were peeking in on me while having sex with the virgin. I guess things got pretty wild because we broke the bed. Which just happened to be the bed of one of the popular girls in her junior year, who was the sister of one of the boys whose house we were at? She was still a virgin. The next day at school she comes up to me crying with all her friends behind, and yells at me for running her life. This made me very UN popular with the girls, but suddenly all the boys wanted to go out with me. Not because they liked me for whom I was, but because they knew they would get laid. I was invited to all the beer parties. Every girl at the party would call me slut, and the boys were trying to get me to go into their cars to have sex.

(For anonymous idiot who keeps saying that my Virginty post and this post have descepinces about when I lost my virginity. Read carefully. I am not saying I lost my virginity at 16. I said I didn't have sex again after loosing my virginity at a very young age again until I was 16. IN THIS POST I DON'T SAY THE EXACT AGE I LOST MY VIRGINTY. FUCKWAD ANONYMOUS COWARD COMMENTER.) Note: I will not publish comments that are rude.

Of course all that passes, when they graduate high school, and now I'm a Junior/Senior. I didn't date boys in high school. I even moved to a different state with a boyfriend for a semester. Then I graduated. I had stopped parting so much because I had found my dad's pain pills. Before those pills I felt like I HAD to go out every night and party. I could not sit at home and just relax. Every weekend I thought I had to be doing something. If nobody was having a party, or no one was at the bar and I had to go home by myself I felt like somehow I was missing out on life. The pain pills took that all away. Plus it made me feel like I had started to reach the goal I wrote about so much when I was younger in my journals. I was becoming a junky.

This post again didn't go in the direction I wanted. I got side tracked by that journal entry I read yesterday that I wrote about puberty. Anyway, I didn't make my point. I'm just going to post this post as is.

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Has life passed me by?

Sorry Council Bluffs, Iowa.  I'm an idiot. Please forgive me.
Today I got a comment, suggesting that I have never done anything and have just let life pass me by. This person said I should do less journaling and reading, and "live my life". I'm 29 years old, and I've seen, done, and been through things most people would never in 10 life time’s see, or do.

For the past few months I've settled into a routine, I read and write every single day all day and night until I sleep, and I stop on Sunday’s at 8pm to watch True Blood. During the week, and on Saturday I stop reading or writing at 9pm to watch The Office reruns for an hour. After that I usually stick my nose back into a book until I fall asleep. I leave the TV on the TV land channel. I wake up in the middle of the night a lot, and I like to wake up to Roseanne, which I watch for a few minutes until I fall back to sleep. I write about these things on my blog because that is what happens to be going on at the moment. Sure it seems boring, but to me it’s a nice break from the chaos, and upheavals that are my life.

I just ended a chapter of my life, where I was hardly ever at my parents, and was using heroin, and pretty much any drug put in front of me. I stopped living really hard at the end of September of 2011, but I was still living pretty hard on the razor edge of life up until about a month ago. The evidence is in my blog. I started blogging again regularly just a couple of weeks ago. That's not because I've just been sitting around doing nothing, it’s because I was busy going places, meeting people, doing things. Most of those things involved drugs, not all of it.

The majority of people I know have lived in the same place or within 20 minutes of that place their whole life. They go to the same bars, and hang out with the same people they have since childhood. Then they marry someone they have known all their lives, and sooner rather than later get knocked up, and that's really the only interesting thing that they will ever do in life. They will raise those kids, and when those kids grow up they will end up doing the same thing. Sure some go away to college for 4 years, but the majority come back and lives within 20 miles of where they grew up, and end having to work at whatever job they can find in their field. Not that there is anything wrong with that. That's just a different type of life than I’d want for myself.

I've been writing this blog since the fall of 2008. I've lived a lot of life in just those four years. I moved five times since then, and one of those moves was to Hawaii, and back to Wisconsin from Hawaii. Before I started this blog I had already done and seen enough for a lifetime. I moved out of my parents’ house when I was 17, and in with a boyfriend, and then with a roommate, then to South Carolina with a boyfriend who was working down there. I came back to Oconto Falls and finished high school. I graduated with my class even though I missed a full semester living in Myrtle Beach South Carolina. A few days after school let out and a week before the graduation ceremony I told my boss I was going to take a couple of weeks off from the bar, and do something. I told her I would call her if I wasn't coming back. I had my first credit card, and a little over 500 dollars saved. One night I packed my car with all my belongings and my first cell phone (an old one) and without telling a single soul I was even thinking of leaving much less that I was leaving. I had it in my mind I was going to go to San Francisco, but first I was going to drive to southern California, and drive all the way up the Pacific Coast highway. Long story short, I made it to Phoenix Arizona, and realized there that there is no way I had enough money to pay for gas and food, and a motel room once every in a while. Even if I slept in the car the entire way to San Francisco, and just paid for gas and food, by the time I got to San Francisco I would only have enough money to survive a two days at most and that’s without opiates. I had taken 10 Oxycontins with me, but in Phoenix I ran out. I wasn't very badly hooked then, but I was mentally hooked for sure. I ended up calling my parents, and I used the rest of my money to help pay for a plane ticket back to Wisconsin. My car made it back a couple days later, when my uncle a cross country truck driver went out west to drop off a load, and on the way back to WI he towed my car. I got home in the early morning hours before my graduation ceremony. When I showed up at graduation I was the talk of the town, for "running away".

After that whole episode, I moved in with a couple of friends from Green Bay. I worked and partied, and every chance I got went on road trips, and took E. I kept up with the pain pills just by using what my dad wasn’t using. Life passed by fast. Then when I was 20, my sister 19 we were both living in the house we lived in since middle school, but our parents lived in Michigan. I had moved back to Oconto Falls and my old house spring of 2003. No rent and I had an easy job as a bartender at a bar I knew like the back of my hand. I had met a boy, who ended up becoming one of the two guys I think of as serious relationships. I was best friends with his sisters. I had partied with him when I was younger. May of 03 he quit his job in Appleton, and we lived in between Oconto Falls and Appleton. I was going up to Michigan to get pills regularly. On July 19th my sister, my boyfriend, and myself were going to drive up to my parents. I was low on pain pills, so my boyfriend and I drove up two days early instead of driving up with my sister in her car, and staying for two days. We got up to Michigan late at night on the 17th. We got there and went straight to sleep. We woke up the next day, and we went sight-seeing with my parents all day, and called my sister that night to make sure she was still coming up on Saturday the 19th. She said yes.

That night my boyfriend and watched movies, got high, had sex. Meanwhile my sister was throwing a barrel party at the house in Oconto Falls. It turned into a huge party. My sister got drunk, and got a call from her boss at her job that there was an after bar party at the bar, and a guy my sister liked was there, so she got in the car to drive there. Less than 3 miles of our house she was killed in a car accident. It was 2:30am July 19th. At 4am there was a knock on the door in Michigan. It was blue outside because the sun was about to come up. Pete and I were lying on the living room floor high and talking. I answered the door; it was the Michigan State police. They asked if Dean Young lived here. I said yes, and they asked me if they could talk to him. I was perplexed, I thought maybe my dad had an unpaid ticket, or illegal cable, or worse, I also thought fast could this be about me and his pills. By the time I got up the stairs, and woke up my mom and dad, and said the police are here. They both jumped out of bed in a flash. Before I woke them up, I had told my boyfriend to go into the guest room. My parents both went downstairs, and I was too afraid to go back down so I stood at the top of the stair case, and a second later I heard the most gut wrenching blood curdling scream I had ever herd, and I made out the words, "MY BABY IS DEAD". I fell backwards and slid down the wall, and I screamed the most gut wrenching scream I've ever screamed. I got to my feet, ran down the stairs, and saw my mother on her knees trying to get to her feet, sobbing. Two policemen were standing in the entrance way, my dad was just looking at them blankly all the blood drained from his face. I looked around at everyone, and it seems to me like none of us said a word for a full minute just sobs. The policeman's mouth was moving, but I didn't hear the words. When I snapped out of it, I heard the policeman saying sir, sir; will everyone be safe if we were to leave? My dad just sat down, and I heard him say, “I always knew something like this was going to happen". I calmed myself enough to speak, and I asked the police, how did she die, was there anyone with her, where is her body now, has anyone else been notified, how did they find out where my parents lived, are they sure it was my sister. My dad got in on the questions, and he told me to start calling the family, first I had to call my aunt. My mom calmed down enough and called her mom, and she fell apart when she said, “Mom, Angie my baby is dead.” And she fell down again. I picked her up. The police were still there and wouldn't leave. They asked if we needed a grief counselor, and if it was okay for them to leave. They just would not leave until my dad said the words; I will not hurt anyone or myself if you leave. I later found out that when the hospital and police couldn't find my parents or me, they called my dad's brother, and that’s how the police found us. My uncle had told them to not just give the notification of death and leave, because my dad has been known to try to kill himself when something like this happens. My uncle was afraid my dad would kill my mom, me, and himself so we could all be together. He was afraid of this for good reason, back in 1990 when my papa, my dad's dad was found dead of suicide in our garage, my dad had tried to kill himself. All of which I saw him do. He also had threatened to kill his three girls. So we could all be together. My dad's mom had died only two months before papa killed himself. Wow I'm going into just this one story way too in-depth. It’s one of many stories; it’s just the one that has affected me the most.

After my sister died, I lived in Wisconsin, all over the state, Michigan with parents, New Hampshire, Arizona, and eventually Hawaii with my mom, and then Hawaii with my mom and dad, and then back to Wisconsin with mom and dad. I've never shared any of the stories of New Hampshire on my blog, none of Arizona, none of Florida. I have mentioned the visits to these states, but not the living there for a few months. Oh yeah, and Boston for a month. Arizona and was with a boyfriend, New Hampshire was with a friend, and Boston was alone. I've traveled and stayed in Florida for weeks at a time, then go back to where I had come from. I worked mostly as a waitress and bartender during this period. I've been homeless in both Hampton Beach New Hampshire, and South Boston. I even worked as a topless dancer for a little over a week when I was homeless. I've had sex for money. I have lived a full crazy life. I have enough material to write 10 different books, on different subjects, all about my life.

I've had calm moments entering the eye of the storm for a month or two here, and there. Still no matter where I was, I was writing it all down in my journal. Even with the drugs, I would at least write one paragraph every day. I would guess the longest I've gone without journaling is three days. That is since i was 14, and at 17 I started making sure I saved all my journals. No matter where I was when I finished a journal, I would send it to my parents to put in a box. They were told very strictly not to read. My mom admitted to me she has read parts of journals I sent home. Then she would come across a sex story, and she would put it down.

Again I know most people have to work to live. I'm sure if they had the luxury I have of not having to work to live, their life would be less cookie cutter. I'm not putting down the majority of American's lives. I'm just saying...to me living a life like that would be letting life pass you by. Putting everything into your children, and hoping they get the chance to do what you couldn't. I'm sure having children is the most rewarding thing a human can do. I'm not saying I've lived the best, most exciting, virtuous, life. I've made pretty much every wrong choice in my life. I swear every time I'm allowed to choose, I choose wrong. I am not, and do not claim to be a role model. No kid should ever aspire to live the life I have lived so far. Mental hospitals and jails have all been a part of my life.

The good thing is I'm only 29 going on 30. I'm still young and I don't have anything tying me down. Since my addiction completely took over my life I've relied on my parents for everything. Right now I'm relying on them so I can read, read, read, and practice writing, and write, write, and write. I’ve taken classes to develop my craft, but right now I'm doing it on my own. Just a list of 100 books everyone should read, a journal, a notebook to write a critique of the books I've read. My computer and blog where I can write all I want. I wish I could go to NYU or Columbia to study English and French, and Russian Lit. Maybe someday I will. Maybe someday I will be a professor at one of these schools. Right now, instead of flying by the seat of my pants, and only doing things that feel good, I'm buckling down. Leaning on my family for support to get me through this addiction, which will probably be the fight of my life, and on top of that my mental illness another uphill battle that will not end until I end?

Because I have not blogged about everything that has happened in my life and all the places I have lived does not mean I haven't lived a full life. I wrote a book about a six year period of my life. In the book I focused on just one subject, the biggest part of my life during those six years. Really I only wrote about 4 years of my life. Not six. I only wrote starting on my second in patient rehab.

So please don't worry about life passing me by, or me not having anything to write about. I may be in a nice safe routine right now. In a moment’s notice life could throw me a curve ball; I could make another snap decision like I did right after I graduated. This time not stopping, and only calling home when I've gotten settled. Sure I'd write postcards on my trip, letting my parents know I'm alive. Just not talking to them, and letting them talk me out of what I want to do. I could meet a girl and fall in love, we could start a life together, or I could meet a guy. I'm defiantly not looking for any type of relationship right now, not even a friendship really. I need to be a loner for a while. I have friends, and I talk to them here and there. I email them, and pm them on fb.

Another OMGfact, the average human can only mange 150 relationships at one time. They can only maintain two intense relationships at one time. They can only be truly close friends with 8 people. The rest are just passing relationships.
Pretty version of me.