Showing posts with label Drugs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Drugs. Show all posts

Friday, October 15, 2010

Drugs, Cancer, and Some Other Third Thing That Kills You

My uncle died.

The service is tomorrow and I am not going.

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Drugs cause many problems.  I know they do. But they do not cause all problems.

When I smoked, my mom would blame everything on the cigarettes.  If I stubbed my toe, it was because I smoked.

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My uncle was an IV drug user.  But that is not what killed him.  He had a brain tumor.  The cancer was most likely not caused by the drugs he injected.  As far as I am aware, Ted Kennedy wasn't a junkie.  But none of this matters.  Even if, and I am not suggesting that this is the case, he had only shot up once, it would be one too many times for my mom.  For the remainder of his short life he was just a junkie.

Friday, August 6, 2010

More Differences

I was just listening to The Empire (which I love and I would totally hang out with those guys if it didn't make me a creeper) and they were discussing all the times that they had smoked pot.  They have smoked it so few times that they actually remember each instance.  This just blows my mind.

I am always somewhat surprised when people haven't had the same experiences as me.  What do you mean you don't know how long ecstasy takes to kick in?  What do you mean you've never been arrested?  What do you mean you've never gone home with strange guys?  What do you mean you've never had a bonfire?  I probably sound like a dick when this happens.  I probably sound like one now.  Then I feel like sharing my experiences, but I hate those druggy people who talk about all the stupid things they did when they were high.  I mean, I like a good story, don't get me wrong, it's the people who brag about it that bothers me.

Am I doing that now?  Fuck, see how I annoy myself?

Yet, there are plenty of things that most people have done that I haven't.  I've never had a passport, I never even flew 'til I was 22.  I never slept around.  I can count the number of times I've eaten Thai food.  I've never snorted anything (had to throw a drug reference in there so you don't think I'm all bad.)  God knows I don't understand half the shit at work.

I suppose it is the people who I have surrounded myself with.  Not that I am saying that they were bad people or anything.  I still talk to a lot of them and fuck, we had a good fucking time!  I guess people just have different priorities and desires and such.  Some people backpacked around Europe and some of us smoked and played video games.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

No, You Don't Belong Here

Have you ever seen SubUrbia? It's this great flick and one of the lines that always stands out is "No, you don't belong here." I was going to put the video up so you would no what I'm talking about but it's in the middle of a 10 minute video and I know we don't care enough.

Anyways, I have been trying to find my place. I've been trying to find people to connect with. People who know what I am going through. People who I can trust and maybe after time, have someone to pick my son up from daycare in an emergency. Or somewhere I can go and feel safe. Or maybe people who I can have some fun with.

It has been a major fail.

My ex was the one who made the friends. I did have my own friends, but they were all old friends. Granted, my friends have always been true friends and my ex's friends were always just mooching, but he could talk to people. He could become fast friends with anyone. That was, probably, his fatal flaw, but you see my point, right? He talked to people, I didn't.

So, being tossed out on my own for the first time in, well, forever, I find myself very lonely. I do have friends, but they all seem to be very far away. And when friends are far away, you can't see them all that often, and when you don't see them all that often you lose touch.

I have been on this mission impossible for quite some time now and it seems fruitless.

I should probably say now that I exclude my bloggy friends from this post. I have met some wonderful people who know what I am going through and are great listeners, but I can't come over to your house. You can't come over to mine.

First I started with Meetup.com, looking for mommy groups. I went on some play dates but they were all disasters. I had nothing in common with these women. I could not stand half of them and the other half didn't seem to need any new friends.

I met this woman through this support group I went to a few times. We hung out a few times, our kids played a few times, but honestly, I didn't really like her.

I don't feel like I belong at work. I am surrounded by smart, ambitious people. I am not ambitious. They all just work in my position for a couple of years then go on to graduate programs. Not me. I never really liked school in the first place. And I always feel like the bad kid. None of them ever did drugs or went home with strangers or got married on a whim or been arrested.

I tried going to a Unitarian Universalist church a couple of times. They were all perfectly nice people and they kept saying how welcoming they are, but I didn't feel particularly welcome. I chatted about the weather with a couple of people but no one took any interest in knowing me. Maybe I that was my job. I don't know.

I would try other churches but I don't "believe in God" so I just don't think a church is the place for me.

I never felt close to one side of my family but recent events made me feel even more like an outcast.

Recently I haven't even felt right in my own state. Massachusetts is supposed to be a liberal state. Why would they elect a Republican? When did everyone jump the fence? Sometimes I fear that the whole country is conservative. Then where would that put me?

I am an atheist liberal single mom of a toddler who works full time in the city. Where do I fit in?


Saturday, December 12, 2009

Arrest Numero Dos

I'm trying to pull a Star Wars trick on you and post these out of order. Here is the first one.

Have you ever been to a rave?

The first thing you hear feel is the THUMP THUMP THUMP of the bass. It goes right through you. Then you see the colors all the beautiful colors dancing on the floor and the walls. Lasers making pictures. Then you see the people. All the happy people. Candy kids is what we were called. Kids dancing - but not grinding. Dancing with people but dancing alone. Dancing like the music had possessed them. The candy comes from the bracelets we all made, wore, and swapped. Just some pony beads on elastic, but we treasured them. I actually still have mine.

Then comes the drugs. If you were lucky smart, you bought them before you came in because in the rave they are fucking expensive. We'd easily drop $100 on four pills in the rave. We rarely thought ahead.

On this particular night, we obtained our ecstasy at the rave. I was rolling face. (I was a lucky one - one pill and I was good for about 24 hours.) I was standing around with a bunch of people and a friend of a friend got some special k (ketamine) and needed some moral support. She asked if I would go into the bathroom with her. Of course in my altered state I agreed.

We went into the packed bathroom and I stopped in front of the mirror to check out my hair and eyes. She insisted that I come into the handicap stall with her.

Okay!

Dumbass. She was just about to snort it when who but a DEA agent stood on the toilet in the stall next to us and said "Give that to me!"

Fuck.

We were escorted outside where there were some lovely police officers handing out court summons'. Apparently in the same 15 minutes that we were arrested, so were 14 others. It was a raid.

Anyways, I was so fucked up that I wasn't upset about anything except not being able to go back into the rave. We begged and pleaded, but alas, we spent the rest of the night in the car while our friends inside wondered where we had gone.

Part three is over here.


Tuesday, October 20, 2009

The Proverbial Straw

Post #100: It is gonna be depressing. But you probably expected no less. Anyways, I could have sworn that I had told this story before, but I can't find it. So, if I cannot read it I will retell it. Or tell it for the first time. Whatever.

Have you ever been unsure of what to do? Where to go? How to move forward? Then one small thing happens. Something that on any other day would not have been given a second thought and everything changes. All of a sudden you know exactly what to do. You know exactly where to go and how to get there. There were two such moments for me in my relationship with my ex that I cannot seem to shake. They are my proverbial straws.

We were living in Denver, far far away from our family and friends, when he left me. I was crushed. I did not know what had happened. Why things had turned out the way that they did. I was lost. I wanted so desperately for him to come back. I didn't know about the meth.

When he was high, he loathed me. When he was not, I was the fucking best. During these times we hung out. We went to dinner, we hung out at his bachelor pad, we hung out at my place. This was all very confusing for me, as you could imagine.

One of these days we were hanging out at my place. It started out as tickling and ended in sex. I was blissful. Finally we can put this all behind us. I don't remember what I said but I sure remember what he said.

"This doesn't change anything."

That was it. Those four words were my proverbial straw. I drove him home and I packed my shit and came back to Maine.

We eventually got back together, had some great times, and had a baby. Money started going missing, he stopped coming home, I started catching him in lies. I thought it was just the stress and shock of having an infant. I thought, well, I really don't know what I thought. I thought about taking care of my newborn. I didn't know about the oxy.

He ended up in the hospital. He told me some lies about why he was in there and I believed it. I did not want to raise this baby alone. How the hell was I supposed to do that? He ended up in some kind of hospital/rehab place. DSS visited me and set me straight about what was going on and what had gone on. I told him he couldn't come home.

He had bounced some checks in my name. My name was on the check but it was a joint account that I had taken myself off of. Follow? I was being charged with larceny. I had to go to court. I was so scared. On top of everything I was somehow in legal trouble and it was all his fault. I called him before I was supposed to go in. I cried. I was scared.

He said "I don't care what happens to you."

Fuck him. Done. I was fucking done. No one who loved my son and me could ever say that. I will never forgive or forget that. Again, the proverbial straw. I stopped taking his calls, contacted a lawyer, got a restraining order.

Sunday, October 4, 2009

My First Arrest

Lamprey River -  New HampshireImage by comprehension via Flickr

I have been handing you, my loyal readers, some heavy shit. I feel like you need to hear a funny story, so I present to you: My First Arrest.

It was mid-afternoon and time to smoke a bowl. There is a really nice park along the river just off of campus, so that is where we went. It was me and my friends Matt and Tom. We parked along the river in my car in such a way that we could watch the birds and such. Then we pulled out the pipe.

We got stoned and marvelled over the birds. "Man, where do you think that bird is going?" "Do you think it is gonna fly south?" "Could you imagine flying south?" "That would be hard work, man." "Maybe we should follow it."

That reminded me that a girl had told me that as soon as it got dark, the police patrolled the park.

"Guys, we really need to leave before it gets dark; before the cops come." "Sure." "Yeah, we'll just follow that bird."

And we sat. And smoked some more.

"We really ought to be going." "Yeah."

And we sat. And smoked some more. It got darker and darker.

"It's getting dark now, we should go." "uh huh." "Yup." But we didn't go. We just sat.

Then the blues. Shit. The bowl was sitting in the center console. Matt told Tom to grab the bowl, but due to confusion and being stoned he did not and the cop came over to my window.

"License and registration. What are you guys doing here?"

"Just hanging out."

"What is that?" The cop shined the flashlight right onto the bowl.

"What is what?"

"That. Please hand it to me."

"Oh, do you mean this?" I handed him the bowl. He asked me to step out of the car.

"What is in this pipe?"

"Nothing."

"We need your permission to search your car."

"And if I say no?"

"I will arrest you." Okay, search the car it is! He asked if there was anything in the car that he should know about. So I told him about the rest of the paraphernalia in the car.

My friends were talking to the officers. I think Tom was saying something about the cops having no idea what they were talking about. The officer showed him his D.A.R.E. pin. He was qualified. Matt was pleading with Tom to "Shut the fuck up."

Next I know, I am being cuffed and shoved into the back of the cop car. Unbeknownst to me at the time, they cuffed Tom, as well, because he was underage and Matt was just stuck there. Without a phone.

The cops were real nice to me at the station. They had me fill out a statement and kept asking me if I wanted to write anything else. Like what was in the pipe. Nope, I was all set. I was stoned but not an idiot. Well, a complete idiot.

I called my friend on campus and she came and bailed me out. I cried when I saw her. But then we went to some frats and all was well.

Wanna hear what happened when my parents found out? Click here.
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Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Half Baked

It's Tuesday so that means it is another awkward moment from Raine's archives (because obviously I am not awkward now.) Head over to Tova Darling's for even more fun!

When I was younger I smoked a lot. A lot of pot, a lot of cigarettes, and a lot of other things. One evening a couple of girlfriends and myself smoked a lot of pot then went over to the pool hall. The pool hall was the place to be. Anyone who was anyone went to the pool hall. Partly because you could smoke there and partly because there was no other place to go.

After the pool hall, because there was no other place to go, we went back to my parent's house. We popped Half Baked into the VCR, because we were stoners and effing LOVED that movie.

So picture us. Three girls, stoned out of their minds, sitting on the same couch watching Half Baked. Just sitting and staring. Not talking. Not laughing. Just watching.

My mom comes in. She sits down on the other couch and starts watching it with us. Soon she starts sniffing. And looking at us, and sniffing.

Mom: Do one of you girls smoke?

Me: No, mom, we were at the poool hallll.

Mom: Aren't you worried about secondhand smoke?

Me: No.

My friends never even registered this exchange. I just wanted my mom to leave sooo badly.

Monday, July 6, 2009

Who Am I?

So, Ive been thinking about different things, including my adventures on Thursday. And I was also thinking about the past, which I have yet to share, some of which is not pretty. And I have come to the question: Who am I?

I'm not trying to be transcendentalist or anything. In my first year in college, I just drank and did loads of drugs. Its a bit hazy from there on. Then I met my ex and still did drugs and drank. But I kinda slowed down. I thought it was a natural progression from getting older, wiser, more responsible. Then, I separated from my husband. I turned into a wicked drunk. I drank all the time. I literally walked around with a bottle of Southern Comfort.

Then we got back together and I got it back together. Then he left again (left, kicked out, whatever). But then I had a baby to care for. Then I was Ryder's mom. I had to keep myself together for him. Then Ryder leaves for the night. What do I do? Bar, pot, random guy's car.

Are you noticing the same pattern as I am? And it wasnt really just the other night. I kinda drink alot. I drink when I am lonely, which is usually.
Anyways, what my point is, I don't really know who I am. When I am by myself, I get wasted. Maybe I am overthinking everything. Possibly not.

Saturday, July 4, 2009

Thirsty Thursday

It was 8:30 on Thursday night and my parents were just leaving my house. They said "Do you want us to take Ryder?"


"No!"


"Wait. Yes."


That is how I got a babysitter on Thursday night. I was pretty upset for 5 minutes then decided to seize the opportunity. What should i do? Where should I go? It was too late to go anywhere far, and certainly too late for anyone to come over, so I went out solo.


I was going to go to this new bar down the street, but it was pretty packed and a bit preppy. Then, I thought of the Gulu Gulu Cafe. That place is hip. Too hip, it turns out. It was totally packed with hipsters and a guy with a guitar. So I settled on a pub, O'Neill's.

On my sister's advice, I sat at the bar opposed to a table. It was pretty uneventful for the first few rounds. I watched the red sox game from the night before. There was a guy and a girl next to me that needed to just go have sex somewhere. The bartender was amusing. Someone came in asking for Irish car bombs, but he said that they didn't do them. But they do jager bombs. Interesting.


I was on my last drink (so I though) and some guy started chatting with me. We will call him Joe (and for all I can remember, that just may be his real name). Joe was with a bunch of guys, one was having a birthday. They are townies. Born and raised in Salem. I remember Joe telling me that he was like 38. I was surprised, but then I remembered that I am dangerously close to 30. Hummf.


Anyways, these guys bought me another drink. I hung out with them for a while, then they were going to go back to some guy's house to smoke. I was totally in. We left the bar and smoked on the way over to the car.


Side note: I hadn't smoked pot in.... maybe... 5 years? I still puffed like a pro though! Like riding a bike, I suppose.


So we get into the car. (This is where it gets good.) They stop at a drive-thru to get some food. I think I got nauseous and wanted to step out of the car. So, I get out of the car, while they are in the drive-thru. Then I tell them that I am going to go home. They offer me a ride, but I insist that I only live down the street. They feel bad. I leave.


How dumb did I look?!? Jumping out of the car in the middle of the drive-thru? And, I did not live "just down the street". It wasn't wicked far, but over a mile. Maybe two. Pretty far when you are drunk and stoned.


At this point, I made a couple of phone calls. To friends on the west coast. Was I lucid enough to only call people in farther time zones because it was late? And I texted and called my friend Sam. I talked to him for about an hour (or so my phone told me the next day." What could we possibly have been talking about for that long? At 1:30 am? I remember going home and dropping off my stuff then going back out. I remember being on the phone with him and taking laps around the city. Probably not the safest thing, in hindsight.


Did I think I was in college again? So much fun, though. I slept until 1:00 the next day. I really think it was the pot that did me in. I think I'm gonna call Sam today and ask him what we talked about. And why he was up so late. And if I should regret anything I said.


Wednesday, June 24, 2009

How To Tell If Your Significant Other Is On Drugs

1. Does your SO anger easily? If yes, continue.

2. Does your SO come home at night? If no, continue.

3. Does your SO have secretive private phone calls? If yes, continue.

4. Does your SO bring home strange people? If yes, continue.

5. Does your SO blow through money? If yes, continue.

6. Did your SO get fired from their job? If yes, continue.

7. Do you catch your SO in lies? If yes, continue.

8. Does your SO forget to buckle the baby in the car seat then giggle when confronted? If yes, continue.

9. Does your SO spend alot of time at their crackhead mother's house? If yes, continue.

10. Has the Department of Social Services paid you a visit and told you that your SO is on drugs? If yes, then your SO is definately on drugs.