Me a victim? Of myself maybe.

I never realized it before but I am pretty fucking upbeat for a junky, I mean I might bitch constantly but that's just my nature. I was born to be a pain in somebody's ass. I guess most addicts are unhappy and that comes through in their writing. I can understand that, we all have our moments. I do get annoyed though when it's like 150 pages of pity party. Poor me I'm an addict, feel sorry for me and my wasted life....wah waaaaaah! Piffle!
I would like to believe that I'm unique in every way but that's probably not true, I guess I'm just more optimistic about my condition than most. A happy go lucky dopefiend, that's me. I'm not trying to sugar coat it, it's not an easy way to live. For alot of people it's no life at all, I know that, I'm not a simpleton.
I've been at both ends of the game, flying high selling and down low just scraping to get by. I won't deny that I had some tough times but for the most part if I was feeling sorry for myself it wasn't because I hated my life, it was because I had no $$$ or dope. That's about as honest as I can be, I mean sure I could spin some yarn about how I saw myself in the gutter and had a moment of clarity when I realized I was a waste of oxygen and would be better off dead but that would be bullsheeeiiit.
Maybe It's just me but if I'm being truthful my pit of despair was dug by lack of smack not self hatred. My poor me attitude beat feet as soon as I got right. To say otherwise would be false.
It's like all those people who find religion....in jail. Motherfuckers who couldn't be bothered to say bless you when someone sneezed are all of a sudden quoting scripture at me? I'm sorry but come the fuck on!
And what are these newly re-birthed disciples of Christ praying for, world peace? Their families well being? NO! It's all about,"Oh Jesus please help me to get a fed cap kick" or "God, please help the DA to lose my paperwork so I get a continuance and can do all of my time in county" HAH! Lord and saviour my ass! Most people only pray when they're in deep shit or they want something and that's the sad truth.
I actually had some of these dipshits try to lay hands on me and 'heal' me when I was locked up and kicking, needless to say it got ugly pretty damn quick and they wasn't offering to pray for me noooo more! Fuck 'em where they breathe, I wasn't religious on the streets why the fuck would I change my tune in lockup? That is fake as all hell and why bother if you're not sincere?
Anyway, all I'm saying is that no matter how many times I hear someone tell me that I'm not being honest about my addiction I feel like I am. I know it's bad for me, I just don't care. I talk about my self destructive tendencies but I don't know if that's even the right way to describe what's up with me. I'm not doing all this shit out of self loathing, I'm doing it because I like to get loaded. I may not like some of the shit that comes along with it but I figure you take the good with the bad and smile or else move the fuck on, it's not for you.
I'm not putting down the people who are genuinely unhappy with their addictions, everyone deals with things differently, all I'm saying is why is it wrong for me to feel OK about it? Why do I have to be miserable, is it some kind of junky pre-requisite? I'm not miserable, even stuck in a shit hole miles away from friends and family.
I've never been comfortable playing the victim, that's just not me. I could turn on poor junky girl in a minute if I wanted to and I have in certain circumstances, when it was to my benefit. Junkies are the best manipulators after all.
I always feel so stupid trying to get sympathy for something I did to myself, "Oh poor me, I never knew shooting Heroin 20 times a day would do this to me, I'm just a victim of ignorance and circumstance" Riiiight.
For me trying to play that card 24/7 would be like trying to put sliced hot dogs in plain spahgetti-o's.....not worth the effort 'cause it's just not authentic. Do I come across as helpless?
I know some girls that got into H because of guys and all that crap and I suppose if they really want to they can say it wasn't their fault but I went out and hunted for it. I specifically set out to score H and I didn't quit til I got what I wanted.
The link thing isnt working so if anyone wants to read that story go back to my 6/23/08 post for the skinny on how I got started. I will say right now, yeah it was fucking stupid! I had no business doing what I did and I'm lucky we didn't all die or get HIV/HepC. I know all that and even now I can't believe I went about it the way I did but if there's one thing that comes across loud and clear, it's that I truly have no one to blame but myself PERIOD! If I have no clue what I'm doing and there's no one to show me and yet I still figure out some way to get it done then yeah, it's my fault.
I'm getting sidetracked and it's probably because I had a phone call from a particularly pathetic Josh who was acting like someone twisted his arm and forced him to become a junky. Poor trust fund baby, nobody loves him waaaaaah! Man up Josh, stop whining like a bitch and take some responsibility for your own actions.
That's it,enough bitching for tonight; everybody have a marvelous weekend, I loves you all, yes even you Josh....you sniveler! Melody

It's all in the genes

It was so cold today! I'm such a complainer, too hot...too cold, I'm never happy. I think Anna may be moving out here, one of my best homegirls flying to my side, that's friendship! I suppose it doesn't hurt that her husband is getting extradited back to Cali and she doesn't really like the town she's living in, I also promised to help her out with some cash to get a place here. I prefer to think that it's the friendship not all the reasons I just listed but who knows, friendship is a fickle thing sometimes......I won't hold that against her.
I'm sorely tempted to fly to Oregon (or is it Washington?) and collect her myself, just to have something to do. Somehow I don't think that St Helens has an airport, maybe I'll go to Covington first and then coerce Regina into driving me, yeah that sounds better. I can't even imagine the chaos that would descend once we were all together+ Anna's 2 kids.
Before someone goes off on the state of her and her kids, let me say that Anna hasn't done smack since the year 2000 and she doesn't drink anymore or do any other drugs. She's a good mom, if a bit vociferous and her kids are a riot.
Anyway, it's something to think about. I spent most of today in bed because I didn't want to turn on the heater and it was cold as fuck. I read and then read some more, I know super interesting, that's me.
I saw the craziest shit on TV the other day.....heaters being shilled by the Amish! I don't know quite what to think about that. It said that the mantles on these electric fireplaces were made by skilled Amish craftsmen and most of the commercial was a vignette of them performing said craftsmanship. The climax is a shot of an Amish guy driving away in a horse drawn wagon with two of the ridiculous things loaded in the back.It was funny as fuck and I had to go get Casey just to make sure I wasn't imagining things.
I'm sorry but when did the Amish sell out? I'm confused but my knowledge of Amish culture doesn't extend much past having seen Witness so I can't expound on this concept as much as I'd like. Maybe I should do some research so I Can come back and really have at it. Maybe not.
So an older member of my family has recently acquired a boyfriend through some strange twist of fate. This guy just called up one day and started talking to her and being that she's at least 70 yrs old, she had nothing better to do than talk back. Don't get the wrong idea, from what she says he isn't a perv, he's just lonely and needs somebody to talk to. He sings her songs and writes her poetry and it's all kinda sweet. I mean I wouldn't have anything to do with someone who wrote me poetry just as a matter of principle (YUK!), but she seems to like it.
Well all was going good, he told her that initially it had been a wrong number but once he heard her voice, he decided to pursue it. I've heard of stranger shit.
Anyway the reason I'm privy to this information is because they had a fight the other day during which he revealed the shocking news that he is NOT a businessman from Fresno..........he is actually an inmate in Avenal making chancy phone calls on a contraband pre-paid cell he bought from one of the COs. Un-fucking-believable!
So being that I have some experience in these sorts of matters she rang me and gave me his CDC ID# and other pertinent info so I could do a check on him. My uh family member's new boyfriend is a 65 yr old cholo from Orange County who is doing 2 years in Avenal for involvement in a shooting. Niiiice!
This happens to be my mom's side of the family too, it's interesting to note that maybe my self destructive tendencies aren't all passed down from my dad's screwy gene pool.
My mom found out and apparently had a shit fit, snatching the phone away from our hapless relative and threatening to pull his balls out through his nostrils if he so much as showed his face after his release. Go mom! My mother doesn't suffer fools! At least not anymore, since she married this last time (#3 or is it 4?), she has run a tight ship and the only fool allowed aboard is me. She has to 'cause I'm her baby *smirk* and she is obligated to love me.
So anyway, my family is nuts, even the normal ones. My dad's family is a nightmare that would take way too long to dissect.
I love my daddy, even if he is a little psycho and his idea of reverse psychology was telling me what a bad dope dealer I was and that he would never have condescended to dirty his hands with less than 10 pieces. I was nickle and dime-ing it according to him and unless I wanted to shame the family I needed to graduate from grams to pieces pronto! I was happy to oblige and daddy was astounded that I took to it like I did, I guess I got his head for business. *snicker*
It was kinda weird dealing with the same people as my dad had, years before. Most of my connects either knew him or knew of him and he never let me forget that he could have me cut off if he so desired. Hmmmph! I'd like to have seen him try! My daddy's famous for all the wrong reasons and I was buying, selling and shooting with some of the same people who had seen me as a newborn. Crazy!
My dad's funny and even though he scares the shit outta Casey we have a pretty good time hanging out with him. He stopped using years and years before I started and has stayed clean which is good....for him. I always get a kick out of his war stories where he is this INSANE heroin addict/dealer who was so hardcore that people OD'd on his cottons. Sure dad, whatever. I'm beginning to see where I get my delusions of grandeur. He's all covered in prison ink and he looks a lil intimidating but he's my Father and he isn't the hell-raising, junk-dealing biker that he used to be. He still flies his colors but for the most part he's settled.
My mom refuses to utter his name and I suppose I don't blame her, it couldn't have been easy for her. She was a proper young thing and to this day I still can't get either of them to tell me how the fuck they ended up together. I know it wasn't because of me, I was born 2 years after they married. Oh well, another mystery.
My mom's parents always acted like he was the proverbial bogey man, actually her whole family did. She must've been pretty determined to have him, maybe she was going through a bad boy phase, I can sympathize with that, mine never ended. I'm just more suited to it than she was, obviously.
They were both really young and my mom was spoiled as all get out so if she threw a tantrum I can see my Grandfather caving in, my Grandmother would have washed her hands of the entire situation by that point. I hear my Dad supported them in fine style and even turned down the house my mom's parents offered them as a wedding present, so it wasn't her money that he was interested in, I guess on some level opposites really do attract. Ancient history.
I'ma go now, after giving you-all a peek into the insanity that is my family tree I'm spent and the need to smoke is overwhelming and *sigh*yes I have to drag my ass out into the freezing night air to do it, YAY! Loves you, Melody

I'm not broken, just marked up a bit

I am feeling oddly introspective this morning. I've been thinking about all the guys I've been involved with and how many of them have been irreparably damaged. I would like to think that they were already fucked to begin with but if I'm being honest then I know that simply isn't true. I do tend to go for the ones that have issues already but that's non exclusive.
I have a few notches on my belt that shouldn't have happened. Guys that were nice, decent human beings whose only mistake was thinking that they could fix me.
Fix me, what a a novel idea. Unrepentant fuck up that I am, any attempted renovations were a dismal failure. I don't know what ever gave them the idea that I was redeemable, it certainly wasn't me. If I don't feel broken why would I let you try and patch me back together?
It was like a weird, reverse rehabilitation, with them ending up damaged rather than me mending my ways. I never set out to destroy them, it just happened......decimation by association.
I don't blame anyone for my bullshit, so I really don't think I'm responsible for their choices but still.......
Maybe if I hadn't stolen their perspective by being myself, they would have held on to some of their boundaries. They should have just stayed the fuck away from me to begin with. Short of having 'Proceed with caution'tattooed on my forehead, I don't know what to do about it. It's not like I try to hide what I am, I'm horrifyingly open about the shit I do. I don't bother trying to lie about it because they would find out eventually. I'm not embarrassed, I am who I am, either you like it, live with it or you don't. Easy as that.
All this second guessing has been brought on by Richie. I can't help but notice that since we met he's progressed from happy pot head to hard-core tweeker out on bail. I think maybe I give off some kind of 'fuck up your life' radiation. Just spend some time in my presence and it will start to mutate your common sense!
Whatever! I never asked him to get me speed, I never asked to be included in his little adventures, I never asked...........
Excuses, excuses, I am the fucking queen of excuses! Give me long enough and I can rationalize or justify anything. Quite a gift I've got!
Fuck it! Bring 'em on, I'll tear every last one down. I laugh about it but it's true. I think it runs in my family. The women in my family outlive the men by a huge margin. I've told Casey that he needs to prepare himself for an early demise. He's going prematurely grey and I have no illusions as to the cause. I know you may not believe this but I can be somewhat hard to handle.
I try to make up for it sometimes but usually don't bother because you knew how I was when you met me. If you don't like it move on. Anyone that can't deal with my shit but sticks around anyway is either a moron or a glutton for punishment.
Casey loves me so he gets a pass. Love makes you stupid anyway, I have done things that go against my basic principals(betcha thought I didn't have any),all in the name of love. I have become love's bitch.
I walk such a fine line between what I think is right and wrong, my life is like one enormous grey area. That line has been stretched, twisted and torn so many times I wonder if it even exists anymore. Oh well, it may be tattered and almost non-existent but as long as I can see it that's all that matters. A girl has to have some standards of measurement for deviant behavior.
I guess what it all comes down to is this: I don't expect anyone to fix me, save me, absolve me or convert me. I am responsible for my own actions or lack therof. Twinges of guilt get through occasionally but that counts for shit. Guilt is a waste of time, it won't un-make bad choices and it will never change the past. People hardly ever learn from their mistakes anyway, they just file them away to be made all over again at a later date. We're stupid that way.
The truth of the matter is if you need saving,I can't do it for you...... you gotta save yourself.

I was born on a green light daddy-o

So, I have made some changes as it was pointed out to me that my layout was not reader friendly. Being that I was in a giving frame of mind I actually took someone else into consideration. Just kidding, thanx for letting me know, one of my few flaws is that I am as blind as a bat, so I would have kept squinting at it til kingdom come.
Anyway, tonight I have been reflecting on my not so distant past and marveling at how I've changed over the years. I want you to know that I have always been the personable sweetheart that you are getting to know and love. It's not so much my personality that has changed as it is the way I look at things. Example, when I first started fucking around with drugs was like at age 12. The usual weed experience. Then I moved on to speed then acid, then speed, then I tried some KJ then some more speed.
I would have been relegated to the ranks of hardcore tweeker if it hadn't been for a chance occurrence. One night (after an interminable amount of days awake) we were all kicking back, feeling like shit and bemoaning the comedown. I remember bitching about being bored with crank, crystal etc and wishing there was something else we could do. My dad had been a heroin addict but for some reason the though of doing smack had never really occurred to me.
Several suggestions were offered. Crack, E, crack and then it came to us. My friend Adam said,"Hey, I know lets get some Heroin."
I pretty sure he was joking, cause at that time the closest thing we had to experience with shooting dope was watching Sid and Nancy. Well we all talked big, you know like "I wish I knew where to score some Heroin. That shit would be so fucking bad. It's too bad no one has any H hookups."
It would have ended at that except for one thing, my friend Willie offered up,"I know where we could score some Heroin."
You could have heard a fucking pin drop it got so quiet. We all just looked at each other, cause actually getting our hands on some H was the last thing anyone expected to happen. Now when most kids would have started to stutter out excuses and get the fuck out of there we just sat. Sat and then turned to Willie and asked him to tell us in detail where, who and how much.
I remember thinking that I was terrified of needles and what the fuck had I gotten myself into this time. Even now I find it a little odd that I wasn't worried about the actual Heroin, just the needle that would get it into me.
Let me tell you, there is nothing funnier than a carload of underage kids cruising the hood at 11pm trying to score some Heroin. We had no clue what the fuck we were doing. Predictably, we got burned right off. Willie's contact went in the front door and out the back, presto burno. Luckily we were for the most part a bunch of spoiled kids from well to do families, so money wasn't an issue. Second try, me and my friend Brianna walked up to a run down firetrap called the Bakersfield Motel and used our feminine wiles. At ages 15 and 16 we had wiles to spare, so it took no time at all before we had some Gangster guy ready to hook us up. Only problem was we had to ditch the guys we were with and drive to another place. As this started to sound more and more like a bad porno I began to have some doubts but by then he was already in the car and ready to go. So we went, me, my friend Sara and Brianna.
The guy, Wino, said that his cousin sold H and that he would get us the shit if we would kick down. That seemed reasonable after all he was going out of his way to hook us up. So we drove to a seriously scary part of town. I remember thinking that Lake view was where they were always killing people in drivebys and shit and that we were fucked. In later years I would get to know Lake view like the back of my hand.
We pulled onto a street that was full of low riders and people were all over the place. Wino jumped out and told me to park. As soon as he got out , Brianna was like ,"Fuck the money, lets go!" and Sara was like,"Mmm I think we should stay, look at all these fine guys, Mexicans have big dicks." My friend Sara always had her priorities straight.
I didn't even have to decide, cause he was already back and jumping into the car with some of his homeboys. I will always remember him saying to Sara, "Scoot over girl and make room for my dogs." and Sara slapping me on the shoulder and saying," Melody, I don't have to ride back here with dogs do I?" Sara was not the sharpest tool in the shed.
He had me drive up to an abandoned house and we all got out. It was my first intro to a honest to goodness shooting gallery. There were people nodding on the floor and shooting dope in the kitchen where they had a bunch of candles burning so they could see to hit.
The guy already had our shit and had pinched off some for himself, then he proceeded to cook up some of ours and load it into riggs. I was not my usual quick tongued self so I just stood there and watched as he handed one to each of us. They then explained to us that If we wanted to get our dope and go, we needed to prove that we were gonna shoot cause we didn't look like fiends. Fuck no, I imagine we looked like kids, stupid kids at that!
I tried explaining to him that we were weekend warriors and that we only used occasionally. He took our points, squirted out some dope and then gave them back. And stood waiting. Then I tried telling him that our boyfriends were the ones that hit us , that we didn't know how. He took off his belt and motioned to me. I guess I must have walked to him cause I remember gritting my teeth and waiting for him to stick me. I don't even remember feeling a poke. One minute I was standing there with my eyes closed, the next it was like I had just dropped backwards off a cliff and was floating in free fall, the most glorious feeling I had ever experienced. I think I must have told Brianna and Sara that it was OK , that it was good, cause they followed suit and were soon next to me against the wall, all of us nodding and having those crazy wonderful Heroin dreams. I don't really know how long we were like that but when I finally became coherent enough to get up and leave it was almost morning. I gathered up my friends and surprisingly had some dope left to take with me. Wino turned out to be pretty cool. I mean he still ripped me good, but he could have taken it all.
We made it back with quite a story to tell and some bona-fide Heroin to boot. Then we opened it up and really looked at it. It was the first time any of us had seen H and this was black tar H. It was not like the stuff they had in Pulp Fiction. We were at a loss, what the fuck do you do with this sticky gross shit. I was sure that it was the same stuff we did earlier but how? It was time for a cinema drug tutorial. We studied, Drugstore Cowboy and Trainspotting, The Basketball Diaries and Sid and Nancy, fast forwarding to all the cook and shoot scenes. It's ridiculous, I know but what are a bunch of determined junkies to be to do when there is no helpful Dope fiend to teach you the ropes. We finally got most of it figured out and spent the next day LOADED like no body's business. I think now that we were lucky not to all have OD'd, since we knew fuck all about what we were doing.
It was that night that started it all and I would spend the rest of my time up to this point chasing that first spectacular high. I became somewhat of a drug snob. I would only do H and saw everything else as a loss of money and time. Someone once asked me what went through my mind when I did that first shot. The first coherent thought I had was," Oh my God, I have been wasting sooo much time on all that other shit!"
It probably should have been," What the fuck was I thinking letting him stick a needle that has been fuck knows where into me." But alas my though were all for the new found wonder of Heroin.
As a drug snob, I turned my nose up at anything that was not my beloved H. Never would I dream of doing speed again. The closest I came was when a friend introduced me to speed balls but that was, of course coke. I was like that for years. Until The first time I did my first long stretch in county. I was looking at minimum of 6mos if I was lucky to get a fed cap kick (Cali jails are way over federal capacity) and was kicking a nasty methadone habit. It took three months before I was able to sleep somewhat regularly and almost as long before the smell of that jail food stopped making me vomit. I'm the only person I know who actually got skinnier in jail.
I also became the opposite of a drug snob, I was now an equal opportunity drug user. I would smoke, swallow or shoot anything that made it in there just to take away that post withdrawal anxiety. Drug snob? Not I.
So I find myself thinking about those days and smiling. I would not say no to some speed or crack or E or Sherm or whatever nowadays. I find that H is still my main man and that I would rather do that than anything but in a pinch I'll take whatever you got. Cause the only thing worse than not being able to do any H is not being able to do anything at all. Never say I don't learn from past misconceptions. M.