%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |  This is my blog & my hope, writing daily will help me see my progress and log supporters. |
| ........ |
| A writer I am not...but, oh, I wish I was. Tonight, whilst searching through all the shit on the box, I chanced upon a documentary about Ernest Hemmingway. Of course, I know WHO he was, but I have never read a word written by this modern-day literary giant. I am ashamed to say that...and it gets worse. Never read Tolstoy...Bokowski, Fitzgerald or anyone who I am led to believe I should have. As a child, I did read...Asimov, Clarke, Benchley and Blatty. I thank my father for his voracious appetite for fiction, which gave me a foothold in how to tell a good story. But a good storyteller is not by right of passage, a good writer...or at least, I don't think that is so. And, to be perfectly honest, I don't even know what does. At this moment in time, I have stopped wondering/dreaming if I will ever write something memorable, worthy or even good. And the idea of me writing anything longer than a short story or blog post leaves me feeling mystified...or is that mystery feeling malaise masquerading as perplexity. In the very short period I have been expressing myself through the medium of words, I have found it to be an exhilaratingly disappointing time. I will lie to myself that it doesn't matter when something I put my heart and soul into is ignored. Or worse still...gets some notice...and then, all it invokes is silence. No applause...no adulation, just acquiescence and self-doubt. I am not a writer...but all is not lost because at least, I am a storyteller. If I had lived ten thousand years ago, I might have been recognised or even revered. But now I tap away with my denial and hope, which fades into the reality that I will never be anything more. |
| On weights day, when I first start lifting, I know immediately where my body is at. In fact, I get some precludes beforehand but try not to allow any negativity (if it is negative and not positive, the latter of which also happens occasionally) to determine/define the workout that follows. Today was no different. I always listen to my body when it comes to exercise. I had an idea it was going to be a struggle because I pushed quite hard two days ago, slightly upping my weights across the board and although I wasn't sore, I already felt some fatigue in my muscles. The choice at that point is to push even harder, or back off. That is not always an easy choice to make because sometimes there are other factors to consider. During my Muay Thai days when preparing for a fight, backing off wasn't usually considered the way to deal with fatigue and soreness. The other guy and what he was doing was a great motivator and it is surprising sometimes just how durable our bodies are. Also, our minds naturally encourage laziness and even a slight amount of weariness, can make training a non-event if we allow it to dictate. Therein lays the quandary...which message do we listen to? This is an impossible question for me to answer for anyone but myself. But with experience and a balanced outlook, the decision for me is usually an easy one to make. For example today. Putting all the factors on the table and making the right choice to back off the weights, also came with a compromise...extra cardio. There are no excuses for failure when we do everything we can in order to succeed. And yet, failure will still come to even the most prepared. Luckily, we learn more from failure than we do from success. Finding that perfect point between our mind and body is elusive, if not impossible (perfection is by evolutionary standards, an impossibility because of the amount of variables involved). Although learning the intricacies that co-exist between mind and body, by trial and error, is not just the only way to improve, but also the most satisfying...especially when it comes to the results we both see and enjoy as a result of our efforts. |
| Ever since I was a child, I've been clumsy. And not just clumsy, but awkward...different...an outsider. When two captains were choosing their teams, I would invariably be the last one picked. I didn't think I was that bad, but then, what would I know? The only solace was, or should I say, is, I am not alone. And when you think about it, without us, the losers and freaks of this world, who would the cool kids have to laugh at...to ridicule and pick last? Of course, we, the weirdos and vagabonds, never ever lose our ability to clap at the wrong place in the movie (thanks David) or drop whatever it is we drop, much to the amusement of our friends. Oh, yes, we, the pariahs and recreants, do have friends (mostly), after all, every group needs a goof off...an oddball or a bottom feeder. Someone to look down on in the kindest and most sympathetic way. There are times here on WdC when I, an ostracized nonconformist, can feel my slightly off-centre persona being pushed aside in preference for cooler, prettier and/or more intelligent people. Like when I review someone's work... and then wait...holding my breath until said author replies with a, "Thanks for taking the time and gifting me your thoughts" kind of thing. Of course, expectations will often lead to disappointment, and being one of the slow and marginalized ones, it can sometimes take a while for things to sink in. Admittedly, this generally only applies when dealing with the upper echelons of the group as a whole, and the majority of people do have these old-fashioned notions of manners and appreciation. And if any one group could be labelled old-fashioned, it is us clumsies. That may sound a little bitter, and to a degree, it is (after a lifetime of ignorance, it's hard not to be a little bitter...and besides, very few care about how I, a lowlife iconoclast, feel anyway). So, why not lash out every now and then, just to see if anyone is actually listening? But on the whole, we clumsies take it in our stride. I mean, what choice do we have...really. Now, here's the thing...when I say that we, the overweight, the lonely and the outcasts, are not alone, what I really mean is that we, the previously and aforementioned underperformers, are the majority. And the cool, the chic`, the beautiful and the (so-called) smart people, are the minority (can't have too many winners hogging the limelight, after all). All I can say about that is they are lucky because we, the ugly and socially challenged, are a very forgiving and tolerant group of individuals (barring the occasional rant from one or two bitter, psychotic lepers...like me, here..."Pass me my finger, please! It fell off while I was waving it at them"). We must also take into consideration the crossover group...the nexus people who belong to the majority (us misfits and rejects), but who strive to be cooler, edgier, and much better than those they know as well as they know themselves and yet, don't want to be associated with...let's call them the Tryhards, for want of a better word. These people, who try very hard, only manage to score credits, but never honours nor passes, and are the middle ground between them and us...them being the jocks and the coolest and brightest of the bunch...and us being...well, just us...the rest And so...here we are (uncomfortable silences ONLY apply to them, because we, the deviants and transgressors, are so used to silence that we have actually come to enjoy those quiet moments...and lucky for us that is). There's only one thing I like about trends...and that is they shift. I always knew that one day, we, the anxious and the meek, would have our day in the sun. We just have to make sure we, the pale and pasty, are covered from head to toe in sunscreen and SPF 40 beachwear...styling...and don't forget the floppy hat. Well, I'm pretty sure that one day we will. I can't wait to kick sand in the face of some muscle-bound example of perfection and handsomeness. And when I do, for sure I will trip over my own feet and apologise profusely. After all, accidents do happen, especially to Mwah. |
| Preparing the house for sale has fallen off the priority list. I still have around five months until the pressure will come on to sell, provided all of my siblings still agree to the terms of the deed of family arrangement. I haven't received all of the signatures as yet (two have signed, and one has assured me her's is signed and on the way. Which leaves only one in limbo). Until I have them all locked in, it's possible it could blow out to nine months or more before I will know if there are to be any challenges to Mom's Will. I doubt the latter will be the case. My offer was generous, to say the least, but you never know in cases where spite or possible adverse legal advice might come into play. In any case, I am prepared for the long haul if that becomes necessary. Today I did the double. The week and a half off training has done me no harm. In fact, after three solid months of training every day, the break was necessary to recharge and reload for the next phase. I'm already pushing the same weights as before the break, and my fitness is about the same level. To say I am looking forward to the next few months, would be an understatement. I feel good...really good, and as long as I stick to the program (the program being no drugs), then the sky is the limit as far as my physical and mental well-being goes. Boredom is my number one enemy and the main cause of a possible relapse. I will have to think of ways to alleviate this threat. Being proactive will be the key. To find the thing that is missing before my idle mind turns to drugs as a way to pass the time. |
| I received a text from Katie, our group facilitator, on Tuesday, telling me that there would be no meetings for two weeks. I had missed the week before because I wasn't ready to face the group knowing that I had to face the music on my decision to use. Once I knew the meeting wasn't on, my mind went to the couple who live just around the corner from me. I felt somewhat guilty that I hadn't made the effort to contact them. Ash had tried to show me friendship by sharing his cell number, but for reasons of my own, I thought better of making that call. Because I had healed well enough both mentally and physically from my fall, I made the call and was immediately invited to their home for dinner. It was great to get out of the house and the half a mile walk there had me burning even more calories than the bike ride earlier...a win-win if ever there was one. Of course, I told them about what had happened, hoping it wouldn't trigger a negative reaction from either of them. This is always a concern when dealing with addiction. The fear is my bad decision will in some way lead someone else to make a similar bad decision. But they were fine about it and had been doing really well themselves. We had curried sausages and vegetables that Ash made and after dinner, Tamara watched her soap while Ash and I sat outside and contemplated the universe. I didn't stay too long and enjoyed the walk home and for once, it felt nice to arrive at an empty house. I got myself some salted caramel ice cream for dessert and relaxed for the rest of the night. On the walk home from dinner, I suspected that my legs would feel the extra workload the next day. Riding a bike is easy when that's what you do, but walking a brisk half mile twice in one night is a different story altogether. Then, last night, my suspicions came to the fore when I couldn't sleep because of the aches and sharp, spasmodic pains in my thighs. I ended up taking a couple of paracetamol tablets at 2.00 am through sheer frustration and finally fell asleep. Today I got back out on my bike and rode like the wind. I wrote a reply to Stik's on a Boat's blog post today "American Hot Shit"  called Never Mind the Sean Connery Jokes, concerning therapy for men. It had me considering what is the best way to deal with our (men's) issues. I have come to the conclusion that no one form of therapy is enough to get a balanced outlook on life. We all need to feel good about ourselves and that includes both our mental and physical states. And although I advocated group sessions as a way to find camaraderie and others with similar issues, this method alone falls short of the mark because it doesn't focus on the crux of the issues and what causes those issues in the first place. One-on-one can focus in on them, but unless there is a healthy respect and a good connection between the counsellor and client, there may be a tendency to fall off before real progress can be made.The blog post I refer to asked the question of using exercise as a type of therapy...in a sense, a one size fits all approach. This is where, in my opinion, there will always be a shortfall if a person expects things to be balanced. But in my case combining them all...group, where I have accountability, camaraderie and respect among my peers. One-on-one...where I can explore all of the facets of what exactly is troubling me, together with an exercise program that pushes me to become stronger and healthier, along with a common sense approach to diet and the lifestyle choices I make, sure sounds like a winning formula. Now ALL I have to do is implement it and make it work for me. |
| There's something about a new pair of sneakers that makes me happy. As some of you may remember, when I was seventeen, I was run down by a car and subsequently broke my right femur. Two years and several major surgeries later and my right leg is now one inch shorter than the other. The outcome is that every pair of runners I buy must be built up with a wedge...zero on the toe, a half inch on the instep and one whole inch on the heel. The craftsmanship that goes into making the shoes look, for all intents and purposes alike, is worth the AD155 it costs to have the work done (plus the AD150 for the shoes). And as I sit here writing this post with my New Balance shoes on my feet, I feel like a million dollars. The nursing home my Mom spent her last days, sent me a letter yesterday. I opened it and discovered a final invoice, but instead of having an outstanding amount, it listed the seven hundred and seven dollars as zero...with a note reading, nothing to pay. It was nice of them to wave that final fee, but underneath the invoice was another sheet of paper, with a cheque for seven hundred and seven dollars attached and made out to the estate of my late mother. I have no idea why they decided to pay my Mom that amount, but as the saying goes, never look a gift horse in the mouth. So, I made a beeline for the bank and deposited the cheque into her estate account, which in a month or so, will belong to me. My Mom always was a generous lady, and so, it continues even after her death. Today I got back into the weights and then, despite the rain, got out on my bike and rode for forty minutes. The mini-relapse I suffered is now a thing of the past, even though I will keep the lessons I learned fresh in my mind. In a way, I'm glad it happened because now I can focus on the coming months and what I want to achieve in that time, instead of being distracted by thoughts of using. I'm going to be sore tomorrow, but it's a good sore and one I can deal with easily. |
| Today was a good day indeed. Normality has arrived and none too soon. I can finally go out in public without the fear of being looked at like a freak. I got out on my bike for the fourth day in a row and I feel almost as fit as I did before this latest episode. My emotions are settling and I believe I have come to terms with what happened...can even see the positives that have come from it. I am more determined than ever to achieve the ultimate reward and no longer live with addiction hanging over me every day and night. If I can rack up another three months will mean I have only used only once in six months...which would be almost unheard of in the past. While I was a caregiver, the government paid me to take care of my Mom. It wasn't a lot, but was certainly enough to live on. Now that she is no longer with us, I've had to transition to another type of payment and today, I received a letter confirming that it has been approved. A relief, to say the least. It's even less than I was on before, but it will tide me over until I can wind up the estate and sell the house. Once that is done, the world is my oyster. Thailand will be where I set my sights, but I plan to travel and see as much of SE Asia as I can over the following year until I find the place I know is home. No more mistakes...I simply cannot afford to do this again. I believe it would break me and at this point in my life, that would be such a shame. I am confident and for the first time in a couple of weeks, today I felt a smile on my face. I like this feeling and I plan to hold onto it. |
| Each day I feel better than the day before. Each day my mindset improves. I am still hurting, emotionally and physically, but it's mainly my mental state that concerns me. Never having suffered from depression in the past, it's hard to know exactly what it is, but I believe that I may be affected in some small way by this insidious condition. I will give myself more time to recover before speaking to my doctor about it. In my mind, having to take medication would be a huge setback. I understand that meds have helped so many, and I mean no disrespect to those who have to go down that path. I have always had a phobia of pharmaceuticals and for me, having to take antidepressants would be an absolute last resort. I'm back exercising every day, and this will once again be the key to my future health and happiness. I'll start doing weights again later in the week and try to shake these horrible feelings of dread and darkness that seem to come and go during the course of the day. My determination is still there to rid my life of meth, and there are some positives that have come from this latest fall. Normally I would be high right now and for months to come after a three-month break from meth has been shattered. But in this instance, I have ninety days clean, followed by a few days of use, and now, hopefully, another ninety and beyond being drug-free. Another positive is the scare I received. This episode has taken a lot out of me, and if I can retain some of this fear going forward, should help next time I start slipping down that slope to relapse. |
| Things are looking brighter today. I am coming to terms with what happened and have come to the conclusion that kicking myself serves me no good whatsoever. I got back out on the bike today and managed to ride the full circuit. I'll start doing weights again in the coming week. It's hard to feel sorry for myself, although, that's what I feel like doing. I'm going to try and keep my head up and not allow the darkness to envelop my life. All in all, improvements have come...and hopefully tomorrow, I will see things in an even brighter light. |
| It gets harder every time. Failing time and again depletes my morale. I am struggling to come up with words...staring blankly at the screen, not knowing what to say next. It's frightening, to say the least. The hope is I will recover my thoughts and get back to normal, but right now, I'm not sure if that will be the case. Darkness has replaced light. The clear vision I had before is now blurred. The confidence I had built up over the last three months is gone, and in its place, only questions remain. I am lost. Today, I took my first steps. I had run out of supplies and although I didn't want to go out in public, it was either that or scrape up whatever I could from what remained. I got in and out of the store as quickly as I could...eyes down. And this afternoon, I got out on my bike for a short ride. It was all I could manage to do. Tomorrow will be better. I have food in the house and hopefully, things will look a little less bleak than they do today. |
| First of all, let me apologise if there are any technical deficiencies in the words that follow. My brain is still very fuzzy, and even though my vision has almost returned to normal, everything is still more difficult than they were before this latest fall. In the past, post-relapse meant months of continued use, until once again, I decide to stop. A cycle I have repeated over and over without finding a way to break it. Ninety days off is a great achievement, but only if followed by another ninety days of not using drugs. I need help...serious help. A few months ago, I was considering rehab, but with my mother's health in decline, I didn't follow it up. This episode has taught me something...it isn't when I initially stop using that I need that kind of intervention. It is around the ninety-day mark after I stop that I need that intensive counselling. The problems with this are many, and for now, I am safe from making this kind of mistake again. I still have a lot to do. Because of this, I've decided to forego my holiday, so I can take a bit more time now to recover. |
| I thought I knew what rock bottom would be like...but that was wishful thinking. No one knows what that popular saying really is until they are there...and then, you know. And the thought keeps occurring to me if I will ever go there again. Even madness cannot hold a shine on addiction when it comes to sheer perspicacity. 'One more time' sounded like a good enough excuse to tell anyone who needed to know. Of course, I would lie to the rest. Omission is the key to a successful drug binge. As I try to write this post, I have no depth perception and both hands have no feeling from my middle fingers to the heel. My focus is blunted to the point where I am struggling to think and if I were to share with you all of the things that happened to me to cause these (and many others) symptoms, you would be shocked. In my mind, I was somewhere else. I don't really know where, but it wasn't here in my home. As fortune would have it, the meth I had must have been very strong, and because I hadn't had any during the previous three months (and the fact that we always begin where we left off), the perfect storm was brewing and about to let all hell loose upon my soul. Once I had that first dose, all logic and any common sense went out the door. It wasn't until later, after having more meth, that I realised there was something in my eye. When I went to look in the mirror, it wasn't a spec of dust, but something alive and evil. I knew it couldn't remain in there, so I began pulling out all the eyelashes on the top rim with a pair of tweezers to somehow make it leave. After God knows how long I was digging around in my eye, I stopped. But I knew that thing was still in there behind my eyeball and so, for three days, I tried to get that thing out of my eye. I'm lucky not to be blinded by my persistence. I know that thing is still in there, but at least now I have its respect. It's seen what I am willing to do, and the pain I am willing to go through to try and rid myself of its presence. I'm a mess...no, I am beyond anything I could ever have imagined. Yesterday, I broke down, and it took a long time to regather myself. I felt more alone then than I have in my entire life. I needed someone to hold me and tell me I was going to be alright. But there was no one and the only way to stop what was going on was to call myself a loser and that I was soft. I had to do something. I apologise to everyone for failing again. But this is not the end. I won't stop trying until I am either dead or get meth out of my life forever.. |
| Reality can be a scary thing to face. For many years, it's been my dream to move to Thailand and begin a new life. But now things are becoming irreversible as a matter of course, I am shitting my pants in fear. Ideally (plan A), would have been to keep my home, rent it out and then, if things go awry, that home becomes plan B. Unfortunately, this isn't possible, so I am just going to have to face my fear and allow the future to be a little less structured than I would like...I think they call it winging it. I have time before the inevitable sale of the house and my relocation. I need to use the time wisely, whilst remaining committed and on track because this isn't the one where I want to drop the ball. There is too much at stake (a roof over my head) to even consider. I know I will be OK. I know there will be days when I will question my decisions I know how much hard work lies ahead...but, I also know that once I achieve my goals, I will look back and be proud...and hopefully, happy. |
| I attended my Tuesday group meeting tonight, and isn't it typical in life that there will always be positives and negatives attached to everything we do? The positives of these group sessions are accountability, a sense of purpose that we are all fighting a familiar foe, receiving support and having professional input, as opposed to seeing things only from our own experiences. The negatives are becoming triggered when others speak of their drug use, sharing the time, when one on one sessions may get to the crux of things more rapidly (I'm currently on a waiting list), and saying things that are or may be viewed as inappropriate by others, within the context of a group setting...things that likely wouldn't be as sensitive if it was just me and a Councillor present. There's a couple who also attend the group who just happen to live in the next street to me. They are a bit younger than I am and tonight, they were obviously arguing. The guy and I get along Ok. We have a common interest other than our addiction, and that is training. Last week we exchanged numbers, but I didn't make an effort to call him, which tonight he questioned. In my mind, I have deliberately pushed people who use away, and inviting him into my life right now could very well backfire. If we hang out and both happen to be having a bad day, it could spell disaster. At the moment (and this happened to me just today), if I have a moment of weakness, I simply don't have any people to call. This is a good thing because, after a short period of time, those feelings disappear. It's possible that we might be a good influence on each other, but on the other hand, the opposite may be true if we are both having a moment of weakness and decide to make a poor choice. I believe he still has drug contacts he can call. It's been around three months since I last used (but I'm unsure about the exact length of time), and it's only been three or four weeks for them. I don't know if becoming friends with them at this point in time is a good idea or not. I'm wary, and so I should be, but it would be great to have someone to talk to and train with. There are real risks involved and worst-case scenario, it has definite potential to derail my progress. Life...there's always something. |
| A blog post (edited) from the 21st of September 2021...which just happened to be my 57th birthday. I remember when my brother, who is an alcoholic, stopped drinking sixteen years ago. No one was more relieved than I was because he wasn't a nice drunk and growing up with him was a nightmare if/when he was under the influence. He counted the days, weeks and years (he still does) since his last drink. I'm wondering if this helps, or if it is just a badge of honour. AA has a twelve-step recovery program and this may have something to do with it. Sure, he doesn't drink now, but he still smokes cigarettes, and has done since he was around twelve years old. One day, I asked him about his sobriety. I told him that I was proud of him for quitting alcohol because I imagine that is not an easy thing to do. But my question to him was, how can he tell people he is clean and sober, when in fact, he is addicted to nicotine? He didn't react well to my question and has rarely spoken to me since. At the time, he said that alcohol changes a person's behaviour when they are under the influence, whereas he can have a ciggie and remain perfectly normal. So, I said to him, "Give me your pack of cigarettes and let's see if your behaviour changes in the coming hours and days." To me, there is very little difference between the substances people choose to use/abuse. If a person is addicted to heroin, eventually they need the drug in order to function...to remain normal. Most drugs follow along similar lines and once tolerance overtakes the high, all that remains is normality and in my case, you wouldn't know I was high unless I wanted you to know. Of course, my brother didn't participate in the experiment (as I knew he wouldn't), but it begs the question...what exactly is sobriety? In many cases, addicts will simply substitute one substance for another and whilst I am in no position to criticise anyone for their personal choices, jumping from drug to drug (unless it is monitored by health care professionals, such as in the case of a methadone program), is something I find difficult to get on board with. Strangely enough, another reason (justification) my brother used to continue poisoning his body with the nine thousand or so chemicals contained in every cigarette, was because he had quit drinking, and smoking was his reward, and no one was going to take that away from him...fair enough I suppose. We all have our own outcomes, and if a person doesn't want to do something, they simply won't do it. I thought about my own abuse of meth and the excuse my brother used to continue to smoke when it dawned on me that I have been doing the exact same thing for years. My excuse was that I don't drink alcohol, smoke pot, use pharmaceuticals or heroin...blah blah blah...so, that justified my use of meth. Thinking...it was all I had left to get by on and I'll be damned if I was going to give up the one thing that brought a little joy and comfort to my life...classic denial. It's hard to see things when they happen right under your own nose, yet we see other's problems because for one, it's easier to see them from a distance, and, it's much easier to point out someone else's faults and flaws, than it is to face up to our own. Political correctness will likely see the term 'sober' gone, replaced by some other acronym, which I don't mind. I mean, what is it but a word? I choose not to use any chemical that causes dependence or changes me in a way that is not healthy or positive for life. And in doing so, I don't just choose life, I choose a better life. |
| I've had a better day today. I did weights and went for a ride. I also got the glass door lock changed after a lot of mucking around. I can't bring myself to book a holiday yet. There's too much going on and I don't want to regret making plans only to have them come to nothing but disappointment. I'll hang in there and wait until I am more confident about how things are going before following through with a firm booking for flights and accommodation. It sucks, but I can't see any other way around it right now. I know I need a break, but I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. One foot in front of the other and don't use drugs. |
| I'm all over the show at the moment. Up one minute and down the next. It's to be expected, I suppose. Brain chemistry isn't going to revert instantly back to normal. The highs and the lows continue and will do for a while yet, I assume. I feel very alone right now. I'm missing Mom, and even missing going to visit her. I made some friends where she lived, but I can't see myself going there now that she's gone. It's a sad place really, where everyone is just waiting to die. I was so happy when my family accepted the payout offer, but it means this house, my home for the last ten years and the place I grew up in, will soon be sold, and this new life I have been looking forward to for so long, will become a reality. Isn't it funny how we dream of this or that, but when that reality looms, we realise exactly what it is we must sacrifice in order to achieve it? I'm scared of what I might find. What if this life in paradise isn't the life I foresaw? Yes, I will have more money once my home is sold, but money doesn't guarantee happiness, and I would rather be happy than rich. These people I plan on helping may see me as someone to try and take advantage of...in fact, there will be those who will try. What that will do to my headspace is anyone's guess. I've never been good with uncertainty, and all this uncertainty is playing havoc with my life right now. I know in my heart things will be Ok...but in my head, I am not so sure. |
| I have a sore face. You know that feeling when you have been smiling so hard that your face aches? Well, I got that and some. It's possible I may be suffering from a condition known as, Too Much Happiness Disorder. I will need to see my doctor and seek medical advice on how to relieve these symptoms of incredible joy and happiness. And, it's not just my face that TMHD is affecting, but my weight sessions as well. In between sets, when I should be resting, I am overwhelmed by an uncontrollable urge to dance (this, despite my right knee vehemently complaining about it). It is possible this dancing thing may be related to the ultra-cool tracks I have playing on my JBL Xtreme3 speaker, but I suspect there's more than just seriously good taste in music going on here. There are other symptoms...allow me to share. When I wake up...there are no feelings of negativity. And, I've developed an eating disorder. I now crave fruit and nuts and other healthy food groups, and these are seriously worrying devolutions indeed. Also, I have completely gone off chocolate. Then, this afternoon, a dramatic development...I began frothing bubbles of effervescence. Add to all this, I've lost weight and walk around like I own the joint (which could be attributed to the fact that I do). And now, whenever I go out in public, I make sure I am dressed well and that I smell good (I told you this was serious). I'm definitely a worry to all who cross my path because I've noticed others smiling just as much as I am and I think it may be contagious. If I stop writing this blog, you will know that I have succumbed to this disorder and you will likely find me somewhere in SE Asia, convalescing poolside and trying not to smile so much that it hurts. |
| A good day was had...I have one leg shorter than the other by one inch. This makes every pair of shoes I buy that much more expensive. The process is buy a pair of runners, hand them over to my shoe guy and hope they turn out ok. No guarantees though, and a $150 pair of New Balance shoes (plus another $150 to build them up) are a gamble I have no choice but to take if they are ruined in the process. So, I walked into my local Footlocker store, where it appeared (or not appeared, depending on which salesperson couldn't see me) that I was invisible... apparently. After five minutes of walking around looking at different brands and trying my best to look conspicuous, I tried a different approach by attempting to catch the eye of one of their hard-working sales attendants. Unfortunately, it appeared she was much too busy to ask a potential customer if he required assistance, and instead, was deep in conversation with another girl. I thought, fair enough, they must be discussing how to raise their sales in a competitive market (since their competition is right next door). I know it was wrong, but I couldn't help but eavesdrop on their conversation (there wasn't much else going on at that point in my life), and to my surprise, they weren't discussing how to raise their sales at all, but instead were discussing, quite loudly I might add, their plans for the upcoming weekend. This revelation pissed me off to no end. The Rebel Sports store next door became a more attractive option, so I exercised my consumer rights and walked indignantly out of Footslacker. No prizes for guessing no one even noticed me leaving, as I made a beeline for more than the nothing service I had just not received (oh I do love the English language). I admit that after my experience, expectations were at an all-time low. All I wanted was a, "Hello, can I help you?" Or even, "How's your day going?" Said with a smile. I entered the Rebel Sports store, only to realise I wasn't invisible at all, and that it was possible I was being ignored at the previous store. What a relief that was. And at the end of the day, not only did Rebel Sports get the sale, but also a positive five-star Google review (which they deserved)...and Footlslacker did not. I did, however, give them a fair review of their service and a one-star rating. My family have accepted the offer to pay them out. This means that there won't be a challenge to my Mom's Will and is great news to me and makes planning the next phase of my life so much easier and less stressful. All in all...a good day was had. |
| I might rehash a few of my old blog entries, with a few edits. It seems a shame to write them, they get their fifteen minutes of 'fame' and then they disappear into the depths of blog post's past. From September 12, 2021. My Plan... Don't use drugs. Continue to seek professional help. Realise that pride comes before a fall. Lean on others in moments of weakness. Avoid and boycott people who use drugs. Delay when the urge to use comes (five minutes can mean all the difference). Exercise every day (rain, hail or shine). Stop substituting reasons for excuses. One day at a time. Begin to make longer-term plans. Smile, laugh and appreciate every day. Expand my horizons and learn new skills. Travel and see more of the world. Find people who care...and care about them. Avoid people who only care about themselves. Believe in myself and my future. Make integrity my mantra. Trust in those who put their trust in me. Become who I always dreamed I could be. Trust my instincts. Love in the same way I want to be loved. Give...because giving is the greatest gift of all. It's not where I've been, it's where I am going. I am worthy. Know that the only path to happiness is through truth and hard work. Be humble and say thank you often. The only person I should fear letting down is myself. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
