Met my PO today. Her name is Jessica SomethingUnpronounceable and she's pretty alright. She's not a cunt, I mean, which is, you know, nice. She asked me a bunch of questions and when I told her about my previous Adderall prescription abuse, she looked more sorry for me than anything else. She asked me how much I was taking it at the time, and I said "every day" and her eyebrows rose a little bit and then she asked me how many pills a day and I flat-out giggled and said "about 240mg per day" and I thought her eyebrows were going to fly up her forehead and through her hair and stick to the ceiling. She asked how I had overcome such an addiction and I wasn't about to tell her that it had led to crystal meth and that I quit by my own willpower because of a near-death scare with that, so I just told her that I lost my way to get it. She extended my CommServ hours to be done by September 30th, which is pretty damn awesome, although I still have not a fucking clue what to do for them. I wanted to donate my voluntary time to an organization that I believed in and wanted to support, but unfortunately the Michigan Humane Society costs $25 per day to volunteer. And apparently there's a very lengthy application process. So. . . I guess not. I'll probably end up donating my time to a church or some other organization that I hate.
Fun fact~ My entire life up until now I have always thought that 'lengthly' was a word. But I just tried to type it up there, and it's actually not a word at all. I feel jipped out of life.
Fun fact~ 'jipped' is not a word either.
Fun fact~ I will continue using both 'lengthly' and 'jipped' as words.
Watching my best friend record my boyfriend blowing bubbles with hookah smoke inside of them. They look fucking amazing when they pop.
Filling my mouth up with butane and blowing fireballs. Hope you all have delicious nights ! :D
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
Sunday, August 17, 2014
02:: Depressing Kitten Blanket
My least favorite part of BlogSpot is that I can't hit the 'tab' button. I just have to type a bunch of spaces if I want to start a new paragraph and be grammatically correct. Which I usually like to be. So. . .it's kinda shitty. Also the spellcheck sucks.
I haven't been to work since Monday evening, and so I worked one day last week. I'm going to be broke as fuck. I should probably stop smoking cigarettes, because that would save me a lot of money. And I've tried like six times to quit but I mean. . . . My parents didn't raise a quitter. . you know ? Every time I've gone swimming this summer I've had to stop after like a half of a minute to cough and wheeze. It's pathetic. Smoker's lungs, you know ? And I know I'd be healthier, I know I'd be happier and I know my skin, teeth, hair, all that would look better if I would just grow a vagina and quit. But it's like. . I'm in the midst of my probation. . can't smoke pot. . can't take almost any drugs. . can't drink. . can't life. . and when all of your friends are smoking pot, it kinda just. . kills you if you can't smoke anything. And I know there's all these cheats and ways around probation and how to drop clean even if you smoke and blah blah blah. . but I'm the one who fucked up, so I gotta serve my time. It's just a year, but a year's a long time when you're a pothead to the extent that I am. Was ? Am ? I don't even know. I just know that the THC withdrawal sucks, and that's it's hard to get to sleep, and that I feel really depressed a lot of the time. I was doing so much better, and then just. . bam. I'm not blaming my depression, since I don't think depression exists. Everyone's sad. Everyone's always been sad. But now they have labels to put on the sadness, just like they have labels to put on everything and everyone else. I know some people have it worse than others, I know that even though I've been 'clinically evaluated" as having manic depression, there are people who haven't been diagnosed with anything who sometimes feel like ending their life is the right thing to do just because they can't handle the sadness anymore. I wish I could help them. And I wish I knew how to help them. And I wish that some of these people wanted help. I know I can put it out there that, no matter who you are, you can come to me if you're sad or angry or upset, if you need to vent or just someone to talk to, that I'll be there for you, no matter who you are. And I also know that a lot of people say this. The thing is, not a lot of people will take you up on that offer. Because some people just don't have the words to say to explain how they feel. I know because I usually don't. When I'm upset, I just draw into myself. My boyfriend will ask me how he can help, and I just shrug because I don't know. If I knew what would help, I'd help myself. It's hard to feel positive when you don't know what's wrong.
In other news, this morning when I woke up, I had three cats lying on me. Indica, Ricky, and Ghost all had crept in sometime in the early morning after Nick had left for work, and positioned themselves all over my like a fluffy, adorable blanket full of meows and purrs. Between that and the lovely note that Nick left for me, I had the best early-morning-cough-fest ever.
If you haven't listened to the instrumental of Crywolf's Angels EP, you're missing out. You can listen to it here.
Well, I guess I have to get ready for work. And by that, I mean defeat the next gym leader in Pokémon Y. It's been real. Hope you guys all have a fantastic day~
I haven't been to work since Monday evening, and so I worked one day last week. I'm going to be broke as fuck. I should probably stop smoking cigarettes, because that would save me a lot of money. And I've tried like six times to quit but I mean. . . . My parents didn't raise a quitter. . you know ? Every time I've gone swimming this summer I've had to stop after like a half of a minute to cough and wheeze. It's pathetic. Smoker's lungs, you know ? And I know I'd be healthier, I know I'd be happier and I know my skin, teeth, hair, all that would look better if I would just grow a vagina and quit. But it's like. . I'm in the midst of my probation. . can't smoke pot. . can't take almost any drugs. . can't drink. . can't life. . and when all of your friends are smoking pot, it kinda just. . kills you if you can't smoke anything. And I know there's all these cheats and ways around probation and how to drop clean even if you smoke and blah blah blah. . but I'm the one who fucked up, so I gotta serve my time. It's just a year, but a year's a long time when you're a pothead to the extent that I am. Was ? Am ? I don't even know. I just know that the THC withdrawal sucks, and that's it's hard to get to sleep, and that I feel really depressed a lot of the time. I was doing so much better, and then just. . bam. I'm not blaming my depression, since I don't think depression exists. Everyone's sad. Everyone's always been sad. But now they have labels to put on the sadness, just like they have labels to put on everything and everyone else. I know some people have it worse than others, I know that even though I've been 'clinically evaluated" as having manic depression, there are people who haven't been diagnosed with anything who sometimes feel like ending their life is the right thing to do just because they can't handle the sadness anymore. I wish I could help them. And I wish I knew how to help them. And I wish that some of these people wanted help. I know I can put it out there that, no matter who you are, you can come to me if you're sad or angry or upset, if you need to vent or just someone to talk to, that I'll be there for you, no matter who you are. And I also know that a lot of people say this. The thing is, not a lot of people will take you up on that offer. Because some people just don't have the words to say to explain how they feel. I know because I usually don't. When I'm upset, I just draw into myself. My boyfriend will ask me how he can help, and I just shrug because I don't know. If I knew what would help, I'd help myself. It's hard to feel positive when you don't know what's wrong.
In other news, this morning when I woke up, I had three cats lying on me. Indica, Ricky, and Ghost all had crept in sometime in the early morning after Nick had left for work, and positioned themselves all over my like a fluffy, adorable blanket full of meows and purrs. Between that and the lovely note that Nick left for me, I had the best early-morning-cough-fest ever.
If you haven't listened to the instrumental of Crywolf's Angels EP, you're missing out. You can listen to it here.
Well, I guess I have to get ready for work. And by that, I mean defeat the next gym leader in Pokémon Y. It's been real. Hope you guys all have a fantastic day~
Friday, August 15, 2014
01:: Cotton Candy Dreams
I'd like to think that maybe life isn't going to be so bad in the next week or so, you know ? But that's what I told myself last week, and also the week before that. This whole summer has just been disappointments and broken promises and barefoot adventures to nowhere far. The most exciting things I've done have involved LSD or psilocybin and I managed to get myself on probation so that's that. I'm too paranoid to do anything anymore. I'm drained of money and time and I need to have 20 hours of community service completed by September first. . and yet, here I am, August 15th, with absolutely none of those hours done. I don't even know anymore, man. Shit's rough.
On a more positive note, my cat is doing pretty well, all things considering. My boyfriend's cat moved in with us and now my roommate Amber has gone and gotten herself a kitten. Indica hates other cats, but she adapted to Ricky pretty alright. She's still getting used to Ghost, but in her defense, kittens are pretty hard for anyone to get used to. Speaking of Ghost, she's wrapped around the back of my neck and my shoulders right now, sleeping. I have to pee really bad but I don't wanna disturb her. . . Partially because she's adorable and partially because she has cute little talons that will dig deep into my flesh if I attempt to move her.
Today has been largely uneventful. I made oatmeal and toast for Peaches and I, and then I slept, and then I moved things around on my floor, and then I played some League of Legends, and then I laid outside in the sun and closed my eyes and thought for a really long time.
Things have been weird lately, my mind's been closed off and my soul feels detached and restless. I need to get out of suburban Michigan. . .it's draining my life away, day by day. I don't know if I can take it much longer, honestly. . . I can't wait for Winter, now. The cold and the snow and the frost and the visible breaths in the air. . I miss that shit.
On a more positive note, my cat is doing pretty well, all things considering. My boyfriend's cat moved in with us and now my roommate Amber has gone and gotten herself a kitten. Indica hates other cats, but she adapted to Ricky pretty alright. She's still getting used to Ghost, but in her defense, kittens are pretty hard for anyone to get used to. Speaking of Ghost, she's wrapped around the back of my neck and my shoulders right now, sleeping. I have to pee really bad but I don't wanna disturb her. . . Partially because she's adorable and partially because she has cute little talons that will dig deep into my flesh if I attempt to move her.
Today has been largely uneventful. I made oatmeal and toast for Peaches and I, and then I slept, and then I moved things around on my floor, and then I played some League of Legends, and then I laid outside in the sun and closed my eyes and thought for a really long time.
Things have been weird lately, my mind's been closed off and my soul feels detached and restless. I need to get out of suburban Michigan. . .it's draining my life away, day by day. I don't know if I can take it much longer, honestly. . . I can't wait for Winter, now. The cold and the snow and the frost and the visible breaths in the air. . I miss that shit.
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