Struggling to find love, for whatever reason became a quest out on the shelf as High school was proving to be busy enough. Maintaining an grade average every semester of 75% higher was part of the living arrangements for me made by the Children’s Aid Society. One of the major stipulations to having my own paid apartment. Having the privilege to prove being mature enough to get myself to classes so I could graduate and go to college was important. Knowing that one wouldn’t have much of a chance in this crazy world without education, it was an opportunity not to blow by drinking, partying and skipping school. Who knew paying bills, going to high school and holding down a part time job would be so hard.
Having parties and people drop in to smoke some weed wasn’t anything unusual. Listening to Snoop Dogg, the dog pound album, rapping to every lyric made me feel like a ghetto star. That’s where I became I fan of rap music, mainly DrDre, Mase, Biggie Smalls and Snoop Dogg. Boy I can rap when the mood strives and the vibes are loud.
I had one other guy try and win my heart, after I was putting mine back together. Clint was sweet and he worked at the MNR, that was where he showed up after work to visit but we didn’t have much in common unfortunately. The nights I worked at Robins Donuts he would drink endless coffee, as he watched my clean tables and smile at the locals. Smitten, by me. I only wished I could return the feelings, he wasn’t a bad boy. There was no challenge, the thrill of the catch, winning his heart. That was too easy, I ditched him quick and I felt like a horrible bitch. Being single proved more fun and having options open was ideal for someone like myself.
Times were tough for my brother as he was also moving around looking for a place to set up his homestead. He had asked to stay with me for awhile “sure you can” Mom was moved out for the time being and getting herself figured out. It was chaos for quite sometime, between having mature responsibilities as well as not having two nickels to rub together , The meetings with my Dad and social workers were nil as we really couldn’t come up with a suitable arrangement. Too much water has gone under the bridge, revealing a mess no child needs to try and understand. Stubborn with the drive for answers I held resentment for what I had to struggle with yet it was really my own decision. Not knowing what was the best route for this lonely lost soul who could see paradise in the horizon, not giving up was the answer. Where was this horizon, having lots to learn and not enough time I picked up the phone and make a call.
“Sandy, I want to go college, can you help me” my social worker was ecstatic as that was his job. To help me flourish and hopefully lead me down a good road through his support and continuous reaffirmation I was worth it.
Compliments and attention was never something I was used too, constant negativity from so many avenues including my own thoughts haunted me in my dreams. Not being good enough, strong enough, wise enough and pretty enough was my own struggles, needing a push from a stranger can be an altering event in ones world. Hearing the truth, pissed me off as most people only want to hear what they want opposed to the truth. Silencing people to keep from from offending someone who needs to realize their actions were shitty, lacking of humanitarian efforts. That’s the problem with this world, lacking in integrity and sincerity.; two favourite virtues that will make any environment thrive.
“What do I gotta do” I asked with anticipation! Sandy was clear that I must meet with a guidance councillor to see what the options were and to find a to study as Grade 12 I would need to enroll in the appropriate classes and do a placement. Since I was a criminal, tried as a Joyrider instead of Grand Theft Auto under the Young Offender and criminal code. It was a desire to get into Law, “I’ve made my decision” I’m going to be a jail guard and that was it, to now make all the arrangements. I still had a couple years to go, though time seemed to going fast and having no time to spare. Plans were now in the works
The apartment I was living in on Church street was being sold with the house, learning I was moving and needed to act quickly to find a new apartment. Stressed out, between packing, having no drivers licence it didn’t matter anyway I had no money for a car or no sugar daddy to take care of things for me. I thought why not, a old friend was in town from Winnipeg and he had brought some “Shrooms” with him. It was the last weekend I was going to be there so let’s have a party. I was old enough to get into the bar and I just purchased a 300.00 Sony Ghetto Blaster on credit from Sight and Sound on Scott street, I wasn’t sure how I’d pay for it . But I needed it for that party. You can’t have a party without music, everyone knows that.
I had a few friends over and we were just testing out drugs that were wrapped in tin foil, the mushrooms smelt like earth and I popped one into my mouth. It wasn’t long when everything seemed like a was floating everywhere and I was wrecked. The bar was closing and my brother should be back any minute. Maybe a 5minute walk to the bar was nothing. Hearing commotion coming from outside the back door, the door bell ringing continuously as a drunk obnoxious person enjoyed alerting us to their arrival.
Someone just fell down the steel tipped stairs that came to my door, “ betcha it’s my brother I said to the person to my right, laughing As I opened the door, there he was drunk landing in the doorway as he was the one falling down the stairs. Behind him was al least 30 people he brought back from the bar. “Mike, holy shit! I can’t have all these people in here” I said, it was 1:30 in the morning and my apartment has become packed and I couldn’t see anything. I had to stand on milk crates just to see over the heads of all of these people packing in, drinking my beer and eating my food. Looking into my bedroom and seeing people spilling their drinks in my bed, smoking cigarettes putting ashes everywhere and anywhere including my ring holder, my mom gave me earlier on. I was anxious and stoned on clerical laden mushrooms; not a fun combination especially again for someone not of legal age, maybe this type of drug use played a role in my adult anxiety, including being left to fend for themselves so young. Did my parents even warn me about the dangers of this behaviour, drugs, booze, criminal activity, cigarettes and sex?!! I was a champion of all those things it seemed and it isn’t anything to be proud of either. Think again, unless that part was forgotten or left behind in my subliminal memory. Having to learn from so many heart wrenching mistakes was the way God intended,laughing at the fact that God must have a sick sense of humour the mushroom trip continued for months as I moved into a shagged carpet 1960s retro apartment, the apartment where my mom would move back in. Leaving more anxiety, sadness and frustration with life.
Welcome To My Story
Cannabis Enthusiast : Craft Edible Creator : Recreation and Leisure Professional : Blogger
A Craft Edible Experience