FML

FINALLY!! I'm going to a drug court graduation without having to go to jail, looming over my head. The last 2 graduations, I went to jail for being unable to produce urine. But me and my trusty catheter TOTALLY ruled it yesterday. :)
I'm excited to get to see some friends get on with their lives and I'm proud of them for how far they've come in this seemingly impossible program BUT (as with all things) there's also a downside. It's me..of COURSE there's a downside.
See, two of my favorite musicians/bands are Acey Slade and the Sex Slaves and I've always said that if they ever played together, it would be my own personal dream. Well they are. And guess where I'll be? Yup, in courtroom C watching graduation. There are 9 which means we'll be there till about 10pm. *weeps*
But as of right now, Nicole is planning on going and I will be expecting a full report of how absolutely amazing it was AND lots of pics!!! AND if you are reading this...go fucking buy Sex Slaves "Wasted Angel" and quit being an asshole.

xoxo

Home Sweet Homicide

Where the hell was THIS song when I was married.....

I've got nothing to lose that's why I'm with you
My X-Ray glasses don't lie
And the best thing about our future
Is knowing that I'm gonna die

It's a simple mistake that anyone could make
And I guess I won the grand prize
A lifetime supply of misery

My home sweet homicide
And I'm so love sick, sick of you
I guess I'll see you in hell
But I'm sure you'd ruin that too

You'll be the death of me
Baby you're my home sweet homicide

You're the reason why I never even tried
You're the biggest star in your own mind
No anti-dote, it's a fucking joke
And I'll never get out alive

Now on the count of three
Won't you bury me
Close the casket and say goodbye
And its ashes to ashes, dust to dust

My home sweet homicide
And I'm so love sick, sick of you
I guess I'll see you in hell
But I'm sure you'd ruin that too

You'll be the death of me
Baby you're my home sweet homicide
And I'm so love sick, sick of you
I guess I'll see you in hell
But I'm sure you'd ruin that too

You'll be the death of me
Baby you're my home sweet homicide

I want to be a Rockstar...

On stage, sweating under the lights, singing and screaming with all of my being. yup.

~Innocence will never kiss me again~

I wasn't going to ever write about this, but after an amazing conversation with an amazing person, I have changed my mind and I'm taking the plunge. Bare with me if things are confusing, or if I stop abruptly. This is by far, the hardest thing I've ever written.
1978...I was 6 years old. At the time my family lived in Olney..a fairly rough section of Philadelphia. I was daddy's little girl, mommy's little angel. But it was about to change, and my parents wouldn't even learn of it until many many years later.
My mother taught arts and crafts at a church on weekends. She had a classroom of kids just a tad bit older then me that came every week to learn whatever craft was hot in the 70's. Probably macrame or some icky crap like that. This particular time, I hopped on the J bus with my mom to the church because my dad had to work and I couldn't stay home alone. So class started, I was allowed to participate and made some badass macaroni art. It was even spray painted gold. And then the class was over. All the other children left and my mother had to stay behind to clean everything up. I was helping her gather glue, scissors, glitter, etc when the janitor came to the doorway. We'll call him, Roy...because even to this day, I can't say his name. Anyway, Roy asked my mother if he could borrow me for a little bit to help him with something in the auditorium. I was excited to help. You see, the auditorium had a huge stage with billowing dark red velvet curtains and the front was made to look like Noah's Arc. I loved it, looking back I have no idea..beyond the curtains..why.
My mom granted permission and I happily skipped with him down to the stage. I asked him what he needed help with and he just motioned with his finger to follow him. So I did. He looked over his shoulder at me and told me that he needed help putting away the chairs in the pit under the stage from a show that was held the previous night. We got to work folding up the metal chairs and stacking them against the wall. After about a 1/2hr I sat on one of the remaining chairs to take a break. Roy had a mop in his hands, and laid it down on the floor and stood in front of me. He asked me if I liked secrets and how well could I keep them. Being a little girl, I LOVED secrets and was pretty proud of my abilities to not tell Mikey down the street that Katie thought he had cooties. He then asked me if I like candy, of COURSE I said yes. He told me to close my eyes because he had candy for me, but it was a suprise. I closed my eyes tightly, he leaned down to my ear and I could smell his sweat and his breath and I felt his rough skin on my cheek. He made me promise to keep my eyes closed and to open my mouth so he could give me a lollipop. His smell was making me uncomfortable and I was getting scared. I think he sensed it because he hand tightened on my shoulder, painfully. I heard his zipper being undone but was too afraid to open my eyes and look. He grabbed the hair on the back of my head and pulled it back, forcing himself into my mouth. I remember crying and gagging and KNOWING what was happening wasn't right, but not fully understand what was really taking place. He held me there, until he finished. Never once letting go of my hair. He had moved his other hand from my shoulder to my throat and held a grip there as well. As he tucked himself back into his work pants, he whispered in my ear that if I ever told anyone he would make sure I was sorry for it. And then he smacked my butt and told me to get lost. I ran, as fast as I could to the bathroom. I still had no concept of what really happened, but I knew I wanted water and I wanted to wash my face. I tried to wash his smell of off me but nothing was working. I couldn't get the taste of him out of my mouth and it was making me gag. I felt dirty and disgusting and scared. But I couldn't tell my mom, so now the actress had to come out. I walked back to the classroom my mother was in and I will NEVER forget her words to me when I came through the door. She smiled and said, "Hey stinker..ready to go home?" If she only knew......

13 years later...she did.

"I'm Jen and I'm an addict"

As I was driving to WaWa (see, thinking and driving again) I realized that I started this in the middle of my story. So I decided I would give a quick update on who I am, and why I'm here.
Let me TRY to start, roughly from the beginning.
I was born on August 28, 1972 at 5:38am....well, that's not really relivant so I'll fast forward about twenty some odd years. About 10 years ago I was in a pretty volatile marriage. Looking back I'm pretty sure my ex-husband hated me for the majority of our marriage. We fought..hardcore. And he was violent, really violent. I don't remember at what point I found Percocet, but man, when I did I was a lucky gal. I could chew handfuls of them at a time and my life didn't matter anymore. I didn't have to deal with the reality that my life had become. Things spiraled out of control quickly, as most addictions do. At this point I had moved back home to PA after getting divorced, I had been living in Florida. My addiction had a firm grip on me and even though I knew in the back of my mind that things were getting bad, I couldn't stop. If I ran out of pills, I went through the worst withdrawals. So I started to do stupid things to ensure that I wouldn't run out. On THAT part I'm not going into detail. But finally, as it always does, it caught up with me. Like they say "Jails, instituions, and death" I was certainly facing one of those. So I was offered a second chance at life, but for a price. And I took it and ran. On November 14, 2008 I was admitted into a program that basically saved my life. I had gotten myself clean about 2 weeks prior to this, on my own and it was brutal. That whole scene in Trainspotting with the baby crawling across the ceiling is NO exaggeration, be sure of that. I thought I was dying, I wanted to die. But I stuck with it and didn't give in. minutes turned to hours, hours turned to days, days turned into weeks and the dope sickness started to wear off. Finally. I started this intensive program with a clean slate and a chance at a new life and I felt great. The program is severe and I still have about 9 more months to go. But if I'm going to be honest with myself, and that's the whole point of this blog, then I have to admit it kept me from dying. I was in intensive outpatient therapy, I have to go to court all the time, I have to pee on demand, in a cup for Probation often, etc....but it's been worth it.
The more time I had clean the more amazing I felt. But then other things started to creep up. My counselor told me "Don't worry, it's P.A.W.S. It's completely normal, everything you are going through is normal" (BTW..PAWS stands for Post Acute Withdrawal Syndrome) I'm beginning to think that PAWS is worse then withdrawal. It's fucked with my memory (hence the 70% nickname, its made me rage and snap at absolutely nothing, drug dreams, hyperactive, depressed..you name it basically) They say this could go on for at least a year..yay me? But anyway, that's the long and short of it. It is a much much longer tale, but I am not really ready to tackle all of that yet. This is a start...a big start for me because this is public and I'm extremely shy. I'll throw more in, here and there as I go on. Off to play Cranium with my mini-me...wish me luck, she kicks my ass in every game we play together.
XOXO

Affirmation #2! I'm on a roll...

In getting ready to take a shower today, I realized that I like my boobs. No, seriously. I have great boobs. Not too big, not too small. They don't fall into my armpits when I lay on my back. Maybe I should start dressing like that horrid woman on Dog the Bounty Hunter, and really play them up. Fuckkkkkk that. I can't even bring myself to consider dressing like that, besides..I make a horrible blonde.
So HOORAY boobs, affirmation #2..check.

C'mon, not ALL my blogs can be full of pain, anguish and psychosis!
xoxo

~be a juke box hero, got stars in his eyes~

Day two of the Bubonicswinehamthraxlabyrinthitisoccus. That's the official diagnosis. Well, maybe that's a TAD exaggerated. I have ear infections in both ears and a headache. It started yesterday with a pretty high fever that came on suddenly and nausea that kicked my ass. Woke up this morning and couldn't really hear and my ears ached like all get out. I haven't had an earache like this since I was probably a kid. Nothing like wanting to curl up in a ball and cry. Instead, I slept. When I woke up I hopped in the shower and was greeted with a gushing nosebleed. I guess it was a good thing I was in the shower, no good clothes, towels, animals or children were harmed in the clean up. HOWEVER, I felt like fucking Carrie. Let me explain something, the sight of blood makes me pass out. So I'm already dizzy from my ears, now all I can see is blood...and lots of it, and I may be old..but not old enough to have those handicap grippy bars in my shower to hold on to. So I sat, until the bleeding stopped. I was finally able to take a proper shower once the bleeding stopped. Drying off I notice I have hives EVERYWHERE. And I mean...everywhere. What the duece??? Whatever, I'm back in bed now..achey, itchy and still dizzy.
I've noticed I do my best thinking while I'm driving and that could have something to do with the amount of red lights I've ran or the amount of times I've had to slam on my breaks to avoid the person that actually STOPPED at said red light in front of me. I'm "supposed" to be writing these 5 affirmations about myself everyday. I was "supposed" to start about 4 months ago. How many have I written yet, you ask? *cough* Here's the thing...I really really don't like myself. I'm being completely honest here. I can pick just about everything about me to shreds quicker then you can say Bubonicswinehamthraxlabyrinthitisoccus. Well, let me correct myself..I DO like my sense of humor. It's random, twisted and morbid enough to entertain me daily. WOOT! Affirmation #1 DONE. If I actually wrote what I see in the mirror, nevermind..I'm not going there. I started writing this with the intentions of putting out there what I really think of myself, for all to see...but I can't. I changed my mind, at least for now. Like I was told yesterday, getting clean was the easy part...it's all the fucking bullshit about yourself that you have to deal with after that, that seems impossible. All the things I didn't have to deal with if I just kept chewing oxycontin. At what point in my life will I be comfortable receiving a compliment from someone without pointing out WHY they are wrong?? I'm supposed (have you noticed the pattern of the "supposed to's" going on here?) JUST say Thank You when receiving a compliment. That's easy. Does it mean I agree with you? Absolutely not. I was half kidding with a friend earlier today when I told him that I was considering hanging out with Jabba the Hut and Rosie O'Donnell because then I might actually look kind of good. He told me to "shut up, you are gorgeous" Ok..here's the thing. WTF WOULD you say, "yeah, you're right...putting you next to Rosie just may make you somewhat adorable" Of COURSE you are going to say something positive. I didn't even pull a thank you from my ass, I just wrote it off as something a friend would say regardless. I absolutely can not stand how insecure I am, how self-conscience I am, how when I look in the mirror I see the mom from What's Eating Gilbert Grape. At what point in my life will that change? Now I know it's physically impossible that I am as large as that woman, hell....I can still fit my ass in just ONE chair but that doesn't mean that it's not what I see. My weight, this is just one thing on my list...but it's a big one. I am unbearably self-conscience about my weight. I don't want to be in pictures, I hate the summer because I can't cover myself with a hoodie (there I said it)
Ugh...I didn't want to start on this so I'm ending it here. Until next time...
xoxo

No Witty Title

I was asked to do a self-portrait.......I couldn't finish it the way that I wanted to because it actually upset me to work on it, but this is basically me and my addiction.

~they call me the wild rose~

Hang on..I should have peed before starting this.

OK! So time for a real, new blog. Not an older one that I transferred from somewhere else. I had a drug dream this weekend. It's been ages since the last one and damn, it screwed with my head. It was so vivid that I sat up in bed and ripped off the chip I wear around my neck, tucked under my shirt and placed it on my nightstand because I was disgusted with myself and felt like I didn't deserve to wear it any longer.
I remember, in my dream, that I was still married. I remember having a gushing bloody nose. I could even smell the blood, taste that metallic taste. I had a bottle of Percocet and a bottle of Stoli and with every sip I took of the vodka, I washed down a handful of Percs until both bottles were empty. I can even remember the dried blood all over the bottle from my hands. It was the worst nightmare I've had in ages...but the reality is, it was more of a memory then a dream. A spot on memory from a time I tried to forget. When I woke up and pulled the chain off my neck, I loathed myself for a brief minute. I looked at my hands and noticed that there was no wedding band on my finger, and I looked around my room and realized I wasn't where I thought I was. I took a few deep breaths and calmed down, realizing that I didn't completely fuck up, that I was still ok and safe and that I still deserved to wear that chip. I can't even put into words how RELIEVED I was to know that the whole thing was just a dream.
They say that addicts have drug dreams for a long time, and I've had my share...but this was by far the most disturbing, most vivid, most upsetting, most realistic one I've EVER had. I tucked my chip back under my shirt after pacing around my room for a while, and changed my frame of mind from self-hatred to being proud. It's SO easy to slip back into that self-hatred that I find myself fighting in my mind to remember to congratulate myself for things I have accomplished. Things I never thought were possible.
So, three days after that dream, I'm back in a good place. I had a hard time sleeping the last couple nights because I think I was afraid that if I fell asleep, I would go right back into that nightmare again...but it didn't happen. I actually slept like the dead. So now..moving up and on. *Raises coffee cup* Here's too drugless dreams, kinky sex and loud music!
xoxo

Foley... Part Deux!

Here's a great reason to become a junkie..... you could potentially land yourself in the position I've now put myself in. So let's see...I left off with a foley catheter in place, and yes, I DID go to jail btw. Wait, let me start again. After several bladder scans it has been decided that my bladder muscle no longer works properly. They THINK its from all the drugs I did, but they aren't sure. It's a fact that all that shit fucks with your kidneys, liver, etc...why not your bladder. So if being 36 and having to wear your urine on your leg like a badge seems like something all the popular kids are doing these days....by all means, chew some pills, crush them, snort them, inject them, whatever.
There IS a silver lining here though. Kind of. I had to wear that for just about 2 months. I hurt tremendously, every single day. No matter what I did, you could see it. I got brutally sick one night because of it. In and out of the ER a few times. Pure joy, I promise. BUT the good news NOW is (and this is just a shard of good news) that the catheter has been removed and I no longer have to add to the self-conscience bullshit I had already put myself through every single day. I could wear what I wanted and there were no tubes or caps showing. I traded wearing a bag all the time to having to self-cath myself at least twice a day. Even trade? Maybe...maybe not. It remains to be seen I suppose. I imagine that things could definetly be worse, so I try to remind myself of that every day. I'm alive...I'm healthy (for the most part) and I'm clean. Yeah, things could definetly be worse. And hey!! I have a nifty straw for pranks when out with friends
xoxo

And a HUGE P.S. to the people (you KNOW who you are) that have inspired me to keep this going. I have literally shed a couple tears reading your messages....keep that between us! heh.

To Taylor...

I wrote this for Taylor about 5 years ago when all hell broke loose in our world. I just found it today, in a box in my basement. I'm not a good poet, but hey........

Sleep baby sleep
Your dreams I shall keep
With peace on your face
Sadness or worry, not even a trace

I promise to give you the best that I can
You and I together, we'll always stand
We may be tired, we may be weak
Strength together, we are NOT meek

I love you Taylor, more then you know
But pack little one, for it's time to go
Off to something big, bright and new
I need nothing more, baby..then wonderful you

My "souvenier" list (5/12/09)

As your trip looms closer (dooms closer for me) for you, I leave you with some words of advice. The first stall in public bathrooms is proven to have the least amount of germs. Don't chew gum found under pub stools. Always use a jimmy and most importantly, wipe front to back. You DON'T want that kind of infection while abroad. Ok, now on to the good stuff....here are your objectives:1) Hit the Birmingham show and have a fucking blast!2) If you happen to see Andee in his Acey Slade hoodie, run full force at him..tackle him and wrestle it off of him. Shove it down your pants and smuggle it back to me. If he is NOT wearing it, an EP will be just fine :)3) OBVIOUSLY if Acey's got shirts or EP's, that would be totally righteous.4) I'm on the constant look out for 69 Eyes shit that you can never find here in the asshole states, so you know..... it's really not important.5) Please go hump the leg of a gaurd and take pics.6) The clown nose is a MUST.7) If for some ODD reason you find yourself on a train headed north accidentally...feel free to bring me back Jussi...wait, he's in the states I think. Scratch that.8) THE single most important thing I really want from your trip.... come back in one piece!! And quickly, I'll have lost my mind by the 2nd. :)<3 you!

The most perfect way to celebrate a divorce anniversary (5/5/09)

TOTALLY copacetic.Rad.How do you turn a time of year that usually brings back horrible memories into something spectacular?Amazing friends, Acey Slade, Sex Slaves and just enough mishap to make it adventurous and humorous.Still Smiling.<3PS. Add to that list:A cover of She Sells Sanctuary and Eric's haircut...now it's perfect.

~I'll never look into your blue eyes...~ (4/10/09)

I think I blog because I'm too lazy to write. In fact, I do most things the way I do these days so I don't have to communicate in ANY way except with my fingers. Face to face conversation makes me uncomfortable, so I opt for texting, emailing, IM'ing...Facebook wars. Anything that I can do that doesn't involve me sitting in front of you, speaking. And by you...I mean ALL of you. If I could get my rehab counselor to let me text my "check in's" I'd be in heaven. I notice that the more I move ahead in recovery, the more steps I take backwards in other parts of my life. I've always been shy, shy to a fault actually and drugs let my guard down and helped me lose my inhibitions. Now that THAT buffer is gone, I notice my shyness being a problem. I can feel my face burn when you ask me how I'm doing. I fuck around with my fingers when you ask me what my interests are. And forget it if you ask me what I think of myself....have you seen the LL Cool J commercial yet for Old Spice Swagger?? Yeah, well I feel like the nerdy LL when the beautiful girl says hi to him. Run away screaming like a girl. I'm a legend in my mind, quite the narcissist...but outwardly I'm pretty unsure of myself and very self-conscious. WOW....Not to change the subject, but Enuff Z'Nuff just popped up on my iPod and I can never really take myself serious when I hear Fly High Michelle. Glam rock is totally where it's at, by the way. Ok, back to my favorite subject...me. See? Narcisstic. If I really had an ego, I'd be dangerous. I was thinking about this the other day....I'm single now. I want to fix me before I involve other people, and I honestly don't think early recovery is the time for relationships. If I could gaurantee that one night stands really DIDNT have strings attached to them, I MIGHT think differently on that one...but since everything has some kind of emotional attachment to it, I'm perfectly discontent to be alone and buy batteries in bulk. AMEN FOR COSTCO. Back to what I was thinking...when the time comes to get back out there in the "dating" world, I'm gonna be fucked. I can't remember the last time I dated anyone, sober. I think about what it's like to feel REAL feelings and that shit worries me so much, I think maybe I won't be ready for a relationship for another 5 years or so. Hmm...Enuff Z'Nuff to Bobby Darin. It's good to see my iPod is just as random as me :) I have forced myself out of my comfort zones on several things in the past few months, and they have always ended postively. But it doesn't seem to register in my head for the next time. I remember the first time I let anyone see my sketches and how bad my palms were sweating. They had nothing but good things to say to me, yet I picked everything apart. I never believe ANYONE that compliments me. I may say thank you, and blush MADLY..but in my head I've already ripped what you've said to shreds so bad that there isn't an ounce of me that believes you. That's probably what has always held me back from really pursuing the things I'm honestly passionate about. The fear of failure, the lack of confidence. I've decided that I have about 11 more months of being stuck here, so that's the perfect time to straighten myself out because when I'm free of the DC chains, the world better look out. World domination is totally out of my comfort zone, but completely obtainable, right? Ok maybe that's shooting a bit out of my league. Let's just go with, I'm going to follow my dreams....even if I have to kick my own ass to do it. P.S. In picking my "currently listening" I learned that there was even a Greatest Hits album...WHO KNEW??

Old Journals (4/4/09)

I've been pretty much holed up in my room for 2 days. I've made the obligatory trek for coffee, but that's about it. No...i'm not isolating. I can't move around too much, per the doctor. The internet and Rock Band tends to get a bit boring after a while so I went through some old books I had stacked in my closet and came across an old journal of mine... There are no dates written but considering the things I was saying, it was probably around the worst time of my life AND my addiction. There are entries about going to the ER with seizures, numerous times. TONS of entries about being beaten up, scared, not getting high enough anymore to escape. Cries for help, stuff that made NO sense at all..it could have been written in Mandarin for all I know. There was an entry about being told the next day that I passed out with a lit cigarette in my mouth, being slapped across the face by a friend because I was unconcious. Stuff I have NO recollection of. What a difference time, want and the will to survive can make. I'm single, drug free/alcohol free and on the right track mentally. No looking back, I never want to be that person again. And God help the man who ever puts his hands on me again, heh. I got some serious fight in me ;) I think I'll keep those journals packed away so I can reference them anytime I need to. 7 months is coming up quick...I can't WAIT! Holy crap! It's only 9 days away. I couldn't even imagine 48 hours clean a year ago....let alone over 180 days. I'm going....need to dance like Ed Grimley. I bid you Adieu <3

You Keep What You Have By Giving It Away (3/30/09)

Its amazing to me how one person can make such a huge impact on your life, and I catch myself wondering if they ever really know. I received probably THE greatest gift I could ever imagine in my recovery from THE most unexpected "giver" How do you ever thank someone for giving you something so extremely sentimental that it changed your entire outlook on your recovery. He'll never know just HOW much this means to me or how much it opened my eyes to what I really wanted to do. I have kept a "reserve" stashed away for the past 6 months, not to use necissarily, but to have on hand so that I knew it was there...like a sick security blanket. Something that would suffocate me, yet I couldn't part with. Even knowing that I had something in my room that would surely kill me, didn't matter. In my sick mind, it made me feel better to know it was there. I have struggled day in and day out, for the last 6 months to have the courage to finally flush the drugs and have never been able to do it. Oh, I've come close. I've stood over the toilet, hands shaking and sweat beading on my upper lip...and I always did the same thing.....tucked it away in it's nice little hiding place that only I knew about. Today, March 30, 2009 I finally took the leap that I have made myself sick over. I flushed EVERYTHING. I watched, while my stomach turned, as it swirled around and was gone. The last part of my addiction that had it's claws in my throat....was finally gone. I was free.

Adventures with a Foley (3/10/09)

So let me start by asking if anyone would care to donate their healthy kidneys to my cause. Even just ONE would be awesome, thanks!!So I'm a recovering addict, duh. If you've read my blogs before, I'm sure you get that. I have 6 months clean on Friday. Not a sip of alcohol, not a single drug. But I'm pretty sure that my past use has officially come back to bite me in the ass. They say that opiates fuck up your kidneys and it sure seems as though I'm just about there now. I'm in drug court (yippie). I have to pee on command, I have to go to NA, I have to go through Intensive Outpatient...for the next year of my life. Normally I would say, Drug Court saved my life. But today I think it may be killing me. Here's the breakdown since Friday:Friday: Get called in to give a urine. Unable to pee at 7:30am. So I go to my group therapy and participate for the next 2 and 1/2 hours. By 9:30 my kidneys are in SO much pain I can barely breath. Group is over at 11:30 so I go BACK down to probation and was finally able to squeeze out just a few drops of urine. Very odd considering my bladder felt as though it was sticking out 5ft from my body. Saturday: Oddly enough, after having permission to spend the whole day with my daughter in the city, I get called in for a random urine AGAIN right in the middle of the day I had planned. I'm given an hour to try to pee, along with about 15 other people. So in reality, I had about 15mins. I can't pee and my probation officer is sitting there watching me telling me how I'm running out of time, blah blah blah. She finally takes back my cup and tells me that my time is up, "try to have a good weekend" Yeah thanks. So the punishment for not being able to produce urine when called is jail. HOORAY! Back again. So let's add some time in prison to the stress I'm under regarding my health. I was eventually able to pee a tiny bit at home but it never felt like my bladder had emptied, since Friday.Sunday: Stayed in bed all day, feeling like complete shit and unable to empty my bladder. The pain was getting intense. By Sunday night, I was ready to go to the ER. Tried to talk to my PO because they are going to give me meds in the hospital, that's inevitable and of course ANY meds need to be approved by Probation. She had the time to remind me that I didn't pee for her on Saturday, but not the time to talk to me regarding a health emergency. Needless to say, I'm an idiot and stayed home. I couldn't sleep, couldn't get comfortable and am surprised my bladder didn't fall out in the toilet from trying to pee all night.Monday: Called for a urine AGAIN. (Ok, let me point something out at this point. I'm in what's called Phase II of Drug Court. I should be called once MAYBE twice per week...this is now the 7th day in a row I've been called and i'm getting pissed) Put some drops in the cup and, doubled over, went to my Group Therapy. The counselor was concerned for my health and actually ended group early so that I could go to the emergency room. I text my PO and tell her that I am at the ER... no response. They pumped me full of fluids and had to cath me to get urine from my bladder. Even with the cath, they didn't even get a full ounce. Now, at this point, I haven't pee'd for about 14 hours. My bladder should have had WAY more in it. They do a culture, no UTI. Good. I get a catscan, no kidney stones. Good! They give me NON Narcotic meds for pain, great! I STILL CANT FUCKING PEE! So they send me home with a "Go to the urologist, we don't know what's causing this" Ummmm....wait, shouldn't they have done some MORE tests?? Maybe it's just me. So I go home, pretty much in the same condition I went it. Call my PO and leave a message. "I'm home from the ER, I have a script for antibiotics. Can I take them? They pumped me full of fluids. I'm unable to keep food down. What should I do? I'm going to have a diluted test if I have to give another urine in the immediate future" (BTW..Dilutes are a jail sanction also) NO RETURN CALL, nothing. I haven't taken my meds now.Tuesday (Today): GET CALLED FOR ANOTHER URINE!!! Ok, so I already know it's going to be diluted AND it's probably full of meds that I haven't had approved through probation from the hospital. At this point I just give up. The only POSITIVE thing I have right now is that I have absolutely NO desire to use....oddly enough. If anything, this stress should be a major trigger. It's one thing to stay clean and sober, but it's entirely different when you feel like you are dying to prove it. So my kidneys are still not functioning properly...neither is my bladder. I go to the urologist tomorrow and then to Court tomorrow night. Wish me luck because I could be facing a few days in prison. I'm sure the concrete and metal will feel WONDERFUL with the amount of pain I'm in. Sometimes this system really blows and now I'm getting pissed off all over again, so I'm signing out. Back to drawing, it's the only thing that keeps me sane right now. XOXO

My Will (2/25/09)

In the event of my untimely death from Sensory Overload (YES! It can happen) on March 7th I have sat down and compiled a list of where I would like my wordly possessions to go. I understand that my things are pretty much priceless, so please, no fighting. This is the way that *I* want it to go and I would hope that you all could at least respect that in my absence.~Cue TAPS~To Nicole: I leave you my extensive collection of Ville pictures (I KNOW you will take great care of them), I would also like you to have my change jar and continue to add to it so that you may take my ashes to Helsinki and spread them over the Baltic Sea while wearing an eye-patch and singing "Dead Lover's Lane". My blow up Mr Hanky would look great in your room, so consider that an extra gift. Since you've shown interest in my Maurin Quina print, you may have that as well as LONG as you keep the Sex Slave and Rev Horton Heat stickers in the frame. My Misfits coffee mug, I am trusting with you. Please use it ONLY on Weds and ONLY for Civet coffee (google that shit...no pun intended). And just because it kind of suits YOU as well as me, my "VITTU" hoodie...wear it in good health.To Jake: I leave you Nicole's black nailpolish. Even though it's not really mine to give, you seem to like it. Enjoy! My Will Ferrill movie collection, because really, who ELSE gets it as much as us?? My flat iron, please PLEASE use it sparingly, it is my baby. And last but not least, my Ville Valo poster behind my chair since you seemed to really enjoy it, being that it was in every picture you took of yourself last visit. Oh! And speaking of that, I would like you to have one of the RockBand mics so you can continue taking hardcore pics of yourself singing. Rock On Brotha!!SINCE, after my death, I will be like every other famous artist. I would like you both to split my artwork and sell it for the millions it is worth. Just don't let any posers get a hold of my sketchbooks, that works blows! I have 2 last possessions that are entirely TOO important for me to give away. So, Nicole, please make sure that I am cremated with my Helsinki Vampires hoodie AND my RockBand guitar. Spread accordingly with my ashes. Wait, before you do that...take my urn, wrapped in the Finnish flag and go to both the Ice Bar and then Tavastia. At the Ice Bar have many many shots of Finlandia vodka with my ashes, then hobble me to Tavastia to enjoy a last concert of both HIM and The 69 Eyes, once they hear of my passing, I'm SURE they will accomodate us with a private show. Ok wait...now that I'm thinking about it. When you go to spread my ashes in the Baltic Sea, tie Jussi to my urn and then a cement block...toss with me so I may spend the afterlife in at LEAST attractive company, if nothing else. Ok, I think that covers everything. Take care of my things, I love you both!

...jumping on the blogtrain..

I normally blog my bullshit on myspace because I'm too lazy 99% of the time to actually sit and write, with a PEN, in a book. But lately Myspace has been deleting my blogs and it has officially pissed me off. So here I am, giving in and joining the mass of lazy's. :)