Untruthful

Poem
Sunday, November 26, 2006

You can see him now, on that hill
rolling down, or falling rather.
He climbed and he climbed,
'til he let his dreams drop.
He let them shatter,
and oh they broke,
sundered by the rocks.

But I don't care.
My life is all about friends.
And big fat cocks.

Theres some poetry for you. Faggot.

Posted byJoe at 12:23 AM 0 comments  

Wrestling
Monday, November 20, 2006

So I went to my first wrestling team practice today. I have never experienced such an asskicking. But I learned a lot. I'm definately looking forward to this sport. Also its helping me on my was to MMA stardom :P we've been working clenches, takedowns, and sprawls. So I'm getting really confident with my ground game. Better yet, Greg has a bit of a gentlemen's contest with another guy at his school, so I'm working his clench striking with him. I always learn a lot when I teach, so I'm looking forward to that.

And yeah, I got my ass kicked today. I'm looking at it with optimism though. I'm sick, tired and just all around worn out, and all today did was kick my ass? I'll be on top of this shit in a month. I've also made the unwise decision to shoot for the 170 lb weight class. Which means I have to gain 15 lbs in about 3 weeks. While enduring gruelling practice designed to drop fat. Which means I'm gonna have to gain at least a bit of it in muscle. So maybe I'll tell ya'll how thats going at the end of the week or something. If you care.

I'm gonna go eat.

Peace.

Posted byJoe at 6:22 PM 0 comments  

In Retrospect.
Thursday, November 16, 2006

It really is amazing how much emotion the smallest thing can stir in you.

Once upon a time, I was eating Japanese with a girl. Even though I'm quite confident that the fortune cookie is of the Chinese culture, they gave me one. Reflecting on that situation, I could easily see it as having been a cute favor played out by the restaurant owner or waitress. But anyway. I finished my food, and cracked open the cookie. As I read my fortune off of the small slip of paper, I felt my lips forming a smile. I couldn't help it. "Too easy" I thought to myself, as I began to rattle of an introduction to a charming gesture. It really was second-nature at that point. I didn't have to try to get a blush out of her. I just sort of did it. It was satisfying and depressing simultaneously. While I loved to charm, maybe the frequency and ease, and the lack of failure that occurred made it a little boring gradually.

Anyway, I handed her the slip of paper, and recited the line aloud,

"Stop searching forever. Happiness is just next to you."


At first, maybe a bit astonished. But it didn't take long for the blush to appear. I was satisfied. So I finished my drink and we left. I took the slip, and put it in my pocket. Later when I got home I set it on my dresser. And then I guess I forgot about it.

How funny that I should find it again now. How unfortunate actually. Because the last thing I want is to give a shit. And I suppose as soon as the last word of this short memoir is over, I won't. This is my eulogy, for something I used to cherish. But the focus of something like this is to focus on the past, not the present. You know, the life, not the corpse. So I reflected about that moment, when I found this slip of paper, and remembered, if just for a short time, how fun it was.

But in retrospect, I really never should have cracked that cookie open and read that little piece of paper. I should have just eaten the whole fucking thing.

Aren't you glad that ended on a positive note?

Posted byJoe at 9:23 PM 0 comments  

A Word on Relationships
Wednesday, November 15, 2006

It occurred to me today while pondering life in calculus, that relationships really are a bit of a science. A lot of people think it's magic and luck, "Mr. Right" "Ms. Perfect" all that shit. And maybe it is somewhat, but there's something more to it. And when I say "something more" don't assume complex because its really quite simple. I think its just an issue of devotion, and wanting what you get out of a long relationship. And please, let me point out that a long relationship, and a meaningful relationship are two different things.

I was in one of those once. Though I'm not sure which as of yet. Here's how it worked; I cared, she cared, and neither cared if the other did. That was how it was at first. Very basic affection. It was nice, somewhat casual, almost like friends. Then, as soon as a dependency for affection developed (on both sides), it changed into a different beast entirely. Especially with the element of sex introduced, it became quite confusing. Fun, but also confusing. It eventually got to be very clingy. Practically Romeo and Juliet clingy. You know, we were so desperately in love we didn't know what to do! So, in a roundabout kind of way, we broke up. What ensued afterwards sort of ruined the whole thing for me. But that's another story.

So here's where the meat of what I'm trying to say. That summary above took place over about 2 years. That might not be as long as your longest relationship. But its my longest, and personally I think 2 years is quite a stretch for a high school relationship. How did it get that long? We both wanted the same thing. The ultimate goal of a romantic relationship, at least emotionally, is to reach the point where you hold nothing back. Complete openness. As opposed to physically... I don't know... your wildest fantasies realized. Well I got that first one for awhile. It was a completely open relationship, at least I like to think so. I told her everything, and she told me everything. We could talk about anything with out fear of rejection. It's a real luxury, having someone like that in your life. But easy to take for granted once you find someone.

Now as wonderful as it was, I can't admit that it was magical. Because what happened after we broke up wasn't magical. And there's nothing spectacular about her now. I might sound like I'm being harsh. Well that's because I am. I don't like to warm up to the notion that she could still be that special someone to me, because she couldn't. So whats the moral? Well, I think that if more people were to see the relationship for what it really is, rather than blind affection, more people would enjoy a happy relationship. The only thing that made mine work was a good chemistry, good intentions, and a bit of luck. It was not magic, fate, or meant to be. She was not special, nor was I. We were strangers when it started, and that's what we are now. But nothing lasts forever.

I think it's true for everyone. It's a universally true point that I just made, whether you want to agree with it or not. I don't care either way, it's the way I see things.

As for me, it really wouldn't take the perfect girl to make my life complete. It would just take someone I get along with and am somewhat attracted to. Good luck meeting those criteria.

Posted byJoe at 2:13 PM 0 comments  

Sometimes
Saturday, November 04, 2006

Sometimes when I get all fucked up like this, I wonder about a few things. I wonder if I'm fucking everything up for myself. I wonder if I'm ruining my body. I wonder if I'm bringing about my untimely demise. And then I wonder if I should even be wondering about all that. It's a hard thing. People always make me wonder. They tell me stories. They tell me about people who have done the same things and fucked up their entire lives. Just like that. One mistake, one drug, one life, done. It just doesn't seem that simple to me. I don't really believe it is. I think someone needs to spend a prolonged amount of time addicted to a substance to truly fuck their life. It's true. I experiment, I like the way these strange chemicals make me feel. And I like it when the world turns 90 degrees. And I especially like feeling so horribly numb. There isn't anything that could possibly replace this feeling. But should I even be experiencing it in the first place?

Posted byJoe at 11:31 PM 0 comments  

Thirty-five dollars
Wednesday, November 01, 2006

When I got my two minors I was forced into a 12 week out patient program, in order to "control my addiction and give me a positive environment to discuss my problems" Needless to say, with a course description like that, I was hardly enthusiastic about my entrance into this program. I would still say that I didn't need it, though I am glad that I went through it, as it helped me discover many things about myself and my drug use, as well as why other people use, and how they interact and cope with their drug habits. I went through all 12 weeks and graduated about 2 months ago.

Shortly after my release from the program, I received a call from the woman in charge of the group. She had an odd request. She wanted me to come back, and speak to her new group of kids. I was a bit dumbfounded, but accepted, and began to ponder what I would say. I had vocalized my opinions multiple times in the group, which I assumed was the reason for her call. So before I continue with my story, I'll explain my opinions on drug use and addiction.

Some people are not fit to use drugs. And yes, some people do need professional help, they need to be forced to quit, some of them might even need meds to keep them on the right side of the fence. It's sad but true. However I feel that people like that are a minority. I feel that often, when put into a position where one must consider addiction as a possible problem, they are bombarded with the idea that they already have a problem. It is very evident in many of the "self-checks" that many drug awareness campaigns promote. You've probably seen one somewhere. They look something like this. While taking a test like this, you will almost never be put at ease, unless you don't drink at all, or only on special occasions (example: new years, birthday, Christmas, but never otherwise).

I think now would be a good time to point out that I am not a conspiracy theorist. I don't believe that the government is out to get me, I don't have a small circle of trust. In fact, I'm practically the opposite. I am a very trusting person, and I feel that trait helped me to come to the conclusion I have about the world of Drug Counseling.

Anyway, about that test. It has a purpose, and it is most certainly not to put your mind at ease. Take it, even if you don't drink, and try to convince yourself that that test, in any situation, could possibly make you think " there's no way I am, or could ever be an alcoholic" or even just "I don't think its something I need to worry about". Unless you're deliberately trying to contradict me, it just won't come off that way. There's a word you could use to describe a test like that. Scare tactics. But why scare people into believing they have a problem? For me, the answer to that is simple as of today. Thirty-five dollars.

I went to the small office in the old downtown area of Edina. The waiting room was dimly lit, and had a very comfortable black leather couch. I took advantage of the free coffee, and dumped at least 5 spoons full of sugar into my cup. Then I sat and waited. Gale was speaking one on one with one of her patients, and I didn't want to interrupt. I took a moment to further explore the small waiting room. Magazines lined a small shelf, there were no pictures hanging from the blindingly white walls, and the carpet was rather plain. However there was one decoration; a small palm tree sat in the corner of the room, looking horribly out of place. I sympathized. I didn't have any right to tell kids how to be clean. Only last weekend I had downed a bottle of Robitussin and smoked weed, then laid on my friend's floor tripping out to 8-bit music. Not only was I about to play the hypocritical role model, I knew that everyone would see right through me. And nobody likes a liar.

She finished with her patient, a pretty dark haired girl. She looked horrible. She had been crying. She passed me briskly as I got up to greet Gale. I shook her hand and she showed me into the room. Comfortable chairs. A nice room. It had a great feeling. I sat myself down in an reclining arm chair and put my feet up on a stool. We played catch up for a few minutes, then she explained that she wanted me to talk for about 20 minutes. I nodded and told her "no problem" without thinking about how long 20 minutes of talking really was. Then the "kids" started showing up. I knew the age group I was going to speak to prior to arriving, but it had only set in that I would be speaking to my peers as they started to show up. Eight showed up total, this group was three times larger than my previous group.

Gale started everything off with the ever-popular, standard addiction group ritual: the check in. Check in's occur every week at the beginning of the group session. The stereotypical view of these is common: "Hi, my name is Joe, and I am an alcoholic. I have been clean for, I struggled with, I'm keeping strong, etc etc etc". We did that eight times. I'm going to assume you've never heard one of these, so I'll explain the two different kinds of check in's. Scenario one: "Every thing's fine, no problems, I'm clean, have been, will be forever". This person is either telling the truth, lying, or just avoiding the vulnerability of exposing themselves to complete strangers. Scenario two: "I fucked up, I did a few lines of coke, toked up, and almost died". I hate this. Without a doubt, one of the most depressing things I have ever experienced is sitting across from someone, and watching their body writhe awkwardly, and their face contort to hold in tears, as they explain their problem. You can truly share their sense of helplessness. People like this belong in the group setting. They need the support that others in their situation have to offer.

Anyway, tonight, we had 7 of the first scenario, and one long, drawn out, and depressed number two. When they finished, Gale got up and left. I was horrified. I introduced myself, and explained why Gale had selected me to speak to them. I then explained that I hated public speaking, and that I was nervous as hell, that I had put no prior thought into my short speech, and that I was winging it. This confession was met with a "Fuck yeah for wingin' it. All day man." which reassured me somewhat. I launched into my short narrative about how and why I was where I was, a story I may post when I get the time. They listened, which was nice, and when I lied, they didn't know, which was even better. They ate it up. They understood where I was coming from. I told them exactly what they wanted to hear: quitting has everything to do with willpower, if you can quit for a month for no reason, you can quit forever. If you can say no, if you can weigh the consequences, and you aren't just drinking to drink, you don't have a problem, you are normal. Which was 100% percent true for seven out of eight of them. The eighth shouldn't have taken my words to heart. He had a problem, and he needed the help he was getting. But everyone else was wasting their time and money. All they needed to hear, and all they needed to gain from that out patient program, was what I told them. And I'm sure by the time they leave, they will have realized that.

But I would like to point something out. After the check in, Gale started a conversation with the boy who had shared his "fuckup" story. She reassured him that the group was there to support him, and that we were all on his side. She asked him what he thought it would take to avoid a situation like that, should one arise again. He replied "a lot of will power". But she shot his response down with a "but that just isn't enough, is it?" everyone replied with a "no" practically in unison. They all believed that willpower was not the way to conquer addiction, and she had just reinforced that belief. For that reason, when she left the room, I told them the exact opposite.

I ran out of things to say about halfway through my 2o minutes, and we veered from my leading a group discussion to simply conversing about weekend activities. Everyone started talking about their drug use, just the last weekend, after claiming "clean" at the check in. This didn't surprise me though. What surprised me was that after about 2-3 minutes of talk, even the guy who had been moved nearly to tears explaining his slip up last weekend, was laughing and talking about all the coke he had done, and showing people pictures of him doing it on his phone. Social pressure is an amazing thing. Eventually, Gale came back in, and I left with her for a moment. She took me into a room, asked a few questions about the group, which I answered correctly, and she was content with the results of my talk, so she got out her checkbook and wrote me a check for thirty-five dollars. $35 for 20 minutes of bullshiting. Amazing.

I left, and on the drive home, considered the amount of money Gale must make. I know of 3 groups that she runs. The one I had been in had 3-5 kids most nights, including myself. That group had 8, and the other, I assumed was somewhere in that range. I then recalled the price for each session, usually covered by medical. $130. That's a killing. Its a part time job for her. She works 3 hours a week for roughly $2990. That's $11,960 a month, and 143,520 a year. Six figures baby. That's a good reason to tell someone they have a problem.

That's all I got.

Peace.

Posted byJoe at 11:15 PM 0 comments