GO ON AND SCREAM

GO ON AND SCREAM
Some days you have to scream silently
The world squeezes till you screech
Knowing somewhere underneath
it's just beyond your reach
Endure it silently
We all know lifes a beach

Sorry, I got stoned and forgot what I was saying. Where was I........

(just noticed Google added an ad for Marijuana addiction,,,teehee)

Still Smoking

I am not proud to say that I have smoked Marijuana almost every single day for 34 years. It has now become a medicinal for me as well as a recreational. When I started smoking it, you could score an ounce for $10, now it is $100 for the same amount. The pot is better now. When I started smoking , you could tell it was good if it had a lot of seeds. Most came from Mexico, like Oaxacan, but East Texas produced some fine stuff too, then the Californian Green came along. I have to say that California did an excellent job of stopping any of it from getting here to Texas though, once they set thier minds on it. You never see Sinsemilla anymore. I have to go now, but will finish this in a bit!

Change

I'd love to change the world, but I don't know what to do.
The Who

Halloween Party

Bwaaaaaa! I have been invited to a Halloween party and I intend to go. Dressing up is fun, guess thats why I chose the Arts. I am going as as Japanese/French Iron Chef HIROYUKI SAKAI. I am not sure if anyone at the party will know who he is, but I will look like an Asian male and I am a caucasian female, so I will do. Iron Chef Sakai is a Japanese chef who specializes in French Cuisine, as well as other types. He is a Master Chef. I don't know but a few people that will be at the party and am only close to one, so I plan on mostly observing. I will let you know if anything interesting happens.

insane

The world has gone insane.
Everyone is guilty
I don't know who to blame.
shame shame


db
12/03

Oh My Aching Head - October 19, 2005

I felt it before I opened my eyes this morning. Someone had apparently come in my room, as I slept and hammered some type of large nail in my head. The pain was intense. When I did open my eyes, the culprit was gone. I thought, "Maybe , I should go to the emergency room to remove the nail." Instead I took an Elieve and put a cold cloth on my eyes.. I went back to sleep and thank goodness, someone snuck in and removed the nail. I think I will make it now.

Mistake

I am thinking that I should have kept this blog private. It has been a refuge. When I started blogging in 2001, this was a place I could go and say the things you can't say. Nonetheless, they were in my head and I felt the need to let the thoughts out, no matter how black or depressing. They are very real to me. Not the kind of thoughts you want family or friends to know about though. They can't fix you, so why burden or worry them.One of my friends did see this after I went public. She was quite concerned about my mental health. Little does she know that writing things out, keeps me stablized. I always said I was insane, but stable. I assured her that most of this was written long ago, I even caught myself going to the archives and editing myself, so she wouldn't read and know how black I am. I don't want to abandon this blog. The good news for me is that she is pretty computer illiterate and probably didn't link to this feed and probably didn't save the addy. I will keep public for now. Maybe there are others like me.

All is Fresh

I feel renewed by the Autumn rains and the cool sweet air.
She is gone now and I can breath. All is fresh.

If you could only see me.

url

Dark Side of the Loon

I am the odd man out. They all seem ok with things when I'm not here. I don't belong. I died years ago and my body lives on. It hurts all the time, but lives on.
I don't belong.
No one talks to me. They don't want me to talk. They don't want me to care. I am not wanted here. I am dead, but my body lives on.
I hurt and I don't matter to anyone, except maybe to someone who never even met me.
They tell me I am weird, strange, crazy. I worry too much. Yelling Yelling Yelling. Makes me numb. I don't belong.
The things I think, are thought by others, but not the ones here. It is me that is always wrong here. I don't belong.
It would be easier not to care, not to worry, not to tell.
My body is still alive and it speaks even when I know it shouldn't. Just keep quiet. That is what they want from me. An impersonable bot with no feelings. Just do the job and shut up. NO! That is not me. I am real, I have thoughts, I have feelings too. If I speak I will cause them to break. That is what they say. I love me. God loves me.

Great -Granddad Was A What !?!

Jacob William Moultre Grabeel - Margaret Virginia Crockett
Great Grandfather and Great Grandmother

Recently I found my paternal family after a long separation They have a family website, so I have been getting to know them again. Granny and Grandpa died long ago and some of my Uncles and Aunts, but I still have ton's of cousins. I asked for information on my Great Grandparents and I received these pictures and some interesting gossip today. My Great Granddaddy was shot as a cattle thief. He was a scoundrel and the black sheep of the family. My Grandpa always said his Pa was a butcher and sold meat and that's all he would say, neglected to mention he didn't buy the meat he sold. They lived in Virginia, not sure how the family ended up in Texas.
My Great Grandmother was Margaret Crockett from Tennessee. I had heard all my life I was related to Davy Crocket, he was distant Uncle

Mom, Dad and Granny 1951

I didn't know my Dad's side of the family as well as Mom's. I knew them when I was young. My Grandmother was a very sweet woman, she introduced me to books. Gave me Tom Sawyer, Huckleberry Finn, and Peter Pan for my 6th birthday, as well as a white zip-up Bible with my name imprinted in gold.. I didn't think about it till I was grown - just how ironic that was. She could barely read. She was from the Oklahoma Hills and didn't have a chance for much education, but introduced me to a love of books at six.

Harrison Jocephas Grabeel and Polly Matilda Row Grabeel
(Grandpa and Granny)
My Grandpa was a quiet, gruff German. He was a craftsman and built beautiful wood furniture. What I remember best about him was the loss of one of his fingers while I was staying the day. Granny didn't drive, so he had to drive himself to the clinic. Granny carried the finger in a glass of ice. I was about seven then. Very exciting stuff for me, not for them, it was the third one he cut off. The Doctor just sewed it back on and we went home.

Grandpa

I never heard anything about their parents. I remember some portraits hanging in the front room of their house. My parents divorced when I was eleven and we quit seeing that side of the family. Everyone moved and holidays became telephone calls then became nothing.

Daddy
The young man is my Daddy, Billy Joe Grabeel.

and this little dollface is me in 1954.

I don't know what happens after we die,, it is scary.I have outlived my usefulness. The only time people treated me with respect was when I had the good job and was bringing home the bucks. I deserved respect less then than almost any other time in my life. I pray more and care more now than I ever did then. I don't lie, steal or ever deliberately hurt anyone. I try to not talk behind peoples backs and I give the benefit of the doubt when there is any doubt. I would never accuse anyone of something unless I see them doing it and then I try to empathize with the situation. I thought integrity counted for something. I know I am getting sicker and can't seem to do anything about it. I am afraid of what I will find out if I go to the Dr. I am afraid of what is happening to my body if I don't go to the Dr. I am a weak, whiny, useless person and I wished I was different. I pray for strength, courage and health to do the things wanted of me. I can't die yet, so I need to make money to give family. I need to ignore these people that devalue me and make me want to be gone.

Grandpas dead. I miss him so much. He is the only man that has ever been a constant in my life. Peeps broke into his house the day after his funeral and stole the only things worth anything, his tools and his coin collection. Theres always piranas.

I just need to talk or scream. I just don't feel like I am a part of this world anymore. I can't communicate with people. I don't like them. I don't like them because I don't think they love me. I don't believe in things anymore. I don't believe in unconditional love anymore. I don't believe in real friendship anymore. I don't believe your family will help you when they see you need help. I don't believe people are grateful when you do something kind for them. I believe now that people only want to be around you if you are fullfilling some need they have. Either emotionally or physically. Otherwise you are just a pain to them. I think these people will show up at your funeral and say how sad, but they won't show up at your house while you are alive and help you.
I also believe that no matter how much you love and trust someone that it won't make them love and trust you back.

Damn,, I am so tired. I have been sleeping more & more and the just get's me more dirty looks and heavy sighs. Every bone & joint in my body feels inflamed. I can feel myself getting worse, yet still keep putting off going to the County Hospital. I know it's crazy, but I have this feeling that if I go to the clinic and start the anti-viral medication that I will get worse and die. I don't want to die. Be careful watch what you ask for. So many times I have wished to be gone, wished I didn't exist. Now I am sick though and I don't want to die and I don't want to burden my family and friends. I feel very alone with this. It seems that all anyone cares about is money. I understand, "Still gotta house and gotta eat" It hurt's, but guess I understand. All my life I have felt secure in the knowledge that if you get sick or down that your family will gather around and help you out. Reality is you are on your own, your still expected to contribute,, no matter how bad you feel. There is no free ride.

I am so tired of being sick. I am so tired of the pain.
I wished I could turn off this everthinking brain.
Oh how I want to go back to the days where I still cared.
There was a point in life when I used to like to share.
I am like the anti-cocaine commercial, the one where life has no meaning,
no joy, no laughter, no feeling, just tears.

I feel like a weed. I don't belong. Someone said to me once that a weed was anything you don't want in your garden or yard. I don't think anyone wants me in their garden. Like the weed, I will suck the nutrients up and leave too little for the greenery that is wanted.

Oscar Wilde

There is a luxury in self-reproach. When we blame ourselves, we feel that no one else has a right to blame us. It is the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution.
Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray, 1891