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I'm concerned about you

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On a real level, I turned my life around.

Been re-building relationships with my family.

Stopped being selfish.

Started being a responsible adult.



It's working out super good for me, thus far.

Life is better than I ever thought it could be.


I've been productive again.

Putting together a zine.

Got commissioned to do some mosaic projects.

Been making hand embroidered patches.

Just keeping busy.

The whole idle hands are the devil's playthings thing.




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Took a roadtrip to St.Louis last month.

It was fun.

That's what roadtrips are for.

Fun on the run.


Austin in St.Louis.








In the car, I mentioned how I was in the market for a rabbit's foot.

15 minutes later we stopped here.

As luck would have it, they had a canister of rabbit's feet next to the register.

I bought two.


















This place was way legit.



We also saw this.

We were all pretty stoked.

Niggas know, niggas know.


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I was told something similar by someone who I haven't seen in over a year today...I've tried to meet up with them a few times since we last saw each other but they're always busy or too tired to hang out. (This seems to be the case with a lot of my friends that I grew up with...go figure.)


Via IM-


Them- I want you to be well. everyone does.


Me- thanks...


M- so when I call or email "everyone", it would be nice if they could get back to me and maybe even hang out once in a blue moon...I'm tired of having to be the one that makes the effort to keep in touch


M- I realize you're my people and that you're busy, but sometimes I can't help but feel like "everyone" would be happier if I just went away and stopped bothering them.


M- tell "everyone" if they don't hear from me to not assume the worst. I'm doing fine...maybe not by their standards, but I'm being true to myself and that means a lot to me


Annnnnd....nothing was said in response.


The key issue here is that I'm not participating in their lifestyle, hence I'm not doing well or having fun. Which couldn't be farther from the truth.


BF- good to hear that you're doing good things. Keep it up.

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My mother has been ill her entire life.

Been in a wheelchair since the age of two.

The last few years, her health has taken a turn for the worse.

We now have an oxygen machine in the house that she has to stay hooked up to most of the time.


When I got out of rehab, I followed the advice of my counselor and moved into a sober living house.

It was alright.

Did the whole curfew thing.

Having to sign in and out everywhere I went.

Got to leave on the weekends.

Had to pee in a cup when I returned.


It was no big thing.


My older brother asked me to think about moving in with the family.

To help take care of my mom and the kids.

He and his wife and their two kids live with my mom.

My entire family is in one house.


He has never been one to ask me for help.

So when he did.

I could not refuse.


I knew it would be stressful.

But it was what I needed to do to repair relationships with my family.


So far, it has been good.

Borderline great.

I still throw fits and get into arguments with my mom.

Almost daily.

It's just the dynamic that has been set for as long as I can remember.

I do what I can to change how I react to her.

Its easier said than done.


I tell people I live in a shed in my family's back yard.

Those that know me, know about my shed living experience in the past.

But the truth of the matter is that it isn't a shed.

It is a garage type building that is large enough to hold 6 cars.

I have a/c and heat.

It's private.

And actually very spacious, for what possessions I have.

Which just seems to be an unnecessarily large amount of clothing, a collection of cat statues, and some records and books.


I am working on getting a new car.

I had refrained from driving up until about a year ago.

When I got my first vehicle.

Although being in my 30s, I was essentially a teenager behind the wheel.

Add on to that, the fact that I was never sober.

I wrecked it a number of times.


The last and final wreck went down on Friday the 13th.

Which I remember because I had been at a party at the tattoo shop.

Getting my first and second (and last) "13" tattoos.

While pulling in to the parking lot, an Escalade full of Mexicans pulled in behind me.

Gave me a flyer for body work.

Said they could fix my car in the parking lot.

From a wreck I had gotten into the week before.

Rear ended some lady.

Gave her my info and mashed off.

The front bumper fell off while driving.

I bungee corded it back on and kept on.

I said told the Mexicans they could fix my car.

Turns out, that was a bad idea.

They just banged around on it for a while with mallets.

Took the bungee cords off.

Knocked out some dents from other little wrecks.

Zip tied my hood and called it a day.

As I was driving home, middle lane of I-35, going 70...the hood decided to break free from the bondage of zipties.

Went full Tommy Boy on my ass.

Broke out the windshield.

beer shits was with me.

We both started screaming.

Pulled over, dug out a wizard t shirt to dust off the glass, bungeed the hood back.

Kept going.

Within a minute, the entire hood flew off.

Busted the windshield a second time.



So yeah.

I drove home with the flashers on.

And that was the end of the minivandal era.


I had only had that hood for about two months anyways.


Two toned minivan.


How I roll.


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