Shadowbox

 Yesterday I cleaned the house before taking the truck to the hand-wash car wash.  The temperature was in the mid-forties. The car wash needs repair. Several of the bays are blocked due to issues, and those that are open need cleaning or work. It was nice to get outside in the fresh air. The truck needed cleaning, I don't like letting it get so dirty, but I don't go many places.

Firefly asked for some money to buy a shadowbox.  She is creating a memorial for a friend who died. She stayed out late. When she did return, I was already in bed. She placed a cheaper picture frame on the dresser. I asked her what happened to the rest of the money, but I already knew the answer.  She spent it on crack. She would deny it, but it would be the truth.

"Don't ask me for any more money," I tell her. She knows I do not want to support her drug use.

She doesn't seem to have a plan. She has not mentioned the boyfriend in a while, and I don't ask. She did tell me he and she were using meth that weekend she wrecked her car. Along with dope, it is his drug of choice. Firefly does not usually use meth. They should work on themselves and avoid each other. Firefly doesn't seem ready to work on herself.

I think her being her is better than the streets, but I do not get much from the arrangement. Not sure how this will play out. 

All your dreams are made
When you're chained to the mirror like the razor blade
Today's the day that all the world will see...Morning Glory, Oasis

Withdrawal

 Firefly is in bed, tossing and turning beneath the black and gold comforter. She is going through withdrawals. The first twenty-four hours are the worst. It is not going well, but she has not given up. She gives out a primal moan, turns over, and states, "I can't do this."

"Yes, you can," I tell her softly. "I know you can. You have done it before."

"Not like this."

I am not keeping her here, but she is on Xanax and Seroquel, and I will not move my truck from behind her car if she tries to drive away. She can choose to give into the body aches and chills, but she will be sick out on the streets without a car or money. She knows it.

I don't know what to do with Firefly. She is so young. She has a long way to go. My condo better than the trap house she stayed at when I kicked her out, but I am not sure being here is enough. She needs a psychologist, structure, and a job to keep her busy. 

I don't want to upset her. So, I return to my desk in the loft and attend a meeting. Firefly continues her restless shifting for a few minutes before the drugs take effect, and she falls into a fitful sleep.

She thinks I don't understand going through withdrawals. Maybe not, but I have seen it before. Firefly is tough. She handles them better than Billie. It is what comes after she has difficulty with.  She returned from our twenty-four-day road trip on Suboxone and ready to get a job. Left to her own devices, it didn't take her long to derail things.

The house is quiet in the afternoon. My typing is the only sound disturbing the silence. Periodically, I get up and check on Firefly. Her breathing is shallow but rhythmic, so I leave her alone.

I work on the computer till late in the evening.  I am intent on my editing when I hear Firefly call my name. Her voice is weak. She sounds pitiful.

"You okay?" I ask, coming into the room. 

She asks if I picked up a prescription refill for her. I haven't. I forgot, and I put on some clothes to run to the pharmacy. The medication isn't ready when I get to the pharmacy. The doctor's office did not call it in. She will be out in the morning.  

Firefly takes the last of her Seroquel and sleeps through the night. The worst is over by morning, but she has a long way to go. 

Judgment

 For those of you worried I am stringing the woman from Bumble along, don't. She never replied once I told her my job.  I knew she wouldn't. Most women use apps like Bumble and Tinder for self-gratification. It makes them feel good getting the attention of hundreds of men. Ninety-nine percent of those men just want to get laid and don't even look at anything but the picture.

In my comments, Lucy, the author of the blog Waiting For A Miracle, said she would like to be herself and be left alone. It can be hard being yourself on the internet today unless you surround yourself with like-minded people. On this blog, I reveal myself. Some don't like it. They disagree with my lifestyle. I should be someone more socially acceptable.

For those who don't read the comments, I'll paste it here.

Secret Escape- LOLOLOLOLOLOL!!!!! Imagine passing judgement about someone AND THEIR FAMILY when you fuck crackhead hookers!!!! LOLOLOLOLOL You've gotta PAY bitches to play with your wiener, but holy hell LOOK AT ALL THE RED FLAGS!!!!! You're a fucking joke old man, don't waste this woman's time with your bullshit, go pay some junkie to fuck you if you're sooooooo bored.

Secret Escape likes to pass judgment on me and those around me. Seems like a personal attack. Someone from the real world would rather attack me anonymously to make themselves feel better, perhaps? Why else would they keep coming back? This person does not reveal their own life on a blog, at least none that I have seen. Criticism seems to be what they enjoy. I have blogged for fifteen years, I have seen this before.

I could delete the comments, but theirs do not bother me. Yes, I pay for sex. So what? Most men do in some form or another. Some men just call it marriage. I am getting old, I'm fifty-six, but age is just a number, a fact of life. Everyone gets older every day. Is someone with an addiction worse than a woman with two kids? Who are you to judge?

And that is the real question, who are you to judge? Tell your life story and let others pick it apart. Have you lived? Have your life choices made you bitter, or are you a young person with no life experiences passing judgment on things they don't know? I haven't met any saints. I haven't meant many people above criticism, but I have met many in life who are quick to judge without ever looking at themselves. If you don't like what you see here, I suggest you stop reading and look at yourself. I am sure if you did, you would find a lot to judge.

Red Flags

 I started a conversation on Bumble yesterday. This seldom happens. The Detroit metro area is terrible for dating. She is 44 and lives an hour away. It will not go anywhere. Her profile is riddled with red flags. She says she is a feminist, a liberal, and works for a college. 

I believe in equal rights for all, but in this country, when a woman touts the fact she is a feminist, it does not mean she believes in equal rights for both men and women. I lean more to a Red pill mindset.  I believe feminism has harmed marriage and child-raising.

She is liberal. I am impressed with some of the up-and-coming liberals, but I am a moderate.  I can see both sides of an issue. I am not ready for the Big Reset or Marxism. 

She works for a college. I have nothing good to say about colleges. They are overpriced liberal strongholds that do not provide value for the cost.

She has two children, ages 10 and 12. Both are nonbinary, she tells me. Perhaps they are, but I wonder how much of the mother's ideas have influenced the children. I am not interested in dating someone with young children. The fact she has children intrigues me. I would really like to know what happened to the father. Was she married? How long? Those answers interest me. 

Our conversation starts light, talking about my recent vacation. Her second question is, "Tell me about your job. Do you like it?"  Conversations usually shutdowns when I say I work for a Chinese automotive wheel supplier. I left the fact my company is Chinese-owned this time.  I want the conversation to continue; I am bored. I doubt we will match.

I get it. I have red flags too. I share my bed with a twenty-year-old addict, but I am trying to change this. Imagine if she looks me up and reads my book or this blog. Dating? Dating is hard.

TikTok

 I am working upstairs in the loft when I hear the familiar sounds of someone entering the front door. Sienna, my cat, quickly scurries off to hide in the spare bedroom. She doesn't like unexpected guests. I know who is here. Max has not been over in a few days to make TikTok videos.

I go downstairs. Max and his girlfriend are seated on the couch. His girlfriend has a Starbucks coffee sitting on the coffee table. Max is searching his phone. He wants to show me what he wants for his birthday.

"You are jumping the gun a bit, aren't you?" I say. His birthday is still two months away. He sends me a link to a $300 War Hammer figurine. We both agree the price is a bit steep

.

He sends me another link. This figurine is over $1000. "You should just buy yourself a 3D printer and make your own," I suggest. He feels the size would be prohibitive.

 

I put a frozen pizza in the oven for myself. My eating habits have deteriorated since Billie and I broke up. I don't feel like making meals for one. Firefly seldom eats. When she does, it is usually after midnight.

The pair go down the basement to make videos. I am glad I have the green screen and lighting in the basement. Max uses it more for his TikTok than I do for my Legos. 

I go back to the loft and continue working. I can hear them laughing downstairs. They stay for an hour. I tell Max he needs to cross-advertise on YouTube and Instagram to get more followers. I feel he could make some money off his hobby if he took it seriously. He does not seem interested. Maybe he knows the reality of it better than I.

You can check him out on TikTok tech_priest_.

Polar Vortex

 To Billie and Tinkerbell, my book represents a past they wish to forget. It is something they would not want to read. I did not understand this at first. Not all the things I captured concerning myself were positive either, but there were good moments along the way.

For me, my book symbolizes moving forward. I am working on it still. I apologize to and appreciate all those who have bought a copy. I am working with Grammarly and an editor for one more attempt at getting it to where I can feel happy with the results. It has been a learning experience. I will gladly send another copy to those who purchased it when I am satisfied. During the past few weeks, I have felt discouraged, but I have found ways to move forward and ways to improve my writing.

This morning it was -10 degrees outside. I drove to the dentist for my six-month cleaning. I cannot imagine being outside for any amount of time in such cold. 

Cold seeps into the house during the day. I never feel warm until I am downstairs riding my bike or back under the covers of my bed. Lately, I have preferred being under the covers.

Firefly stays up all night, disrupting my sleep pattern. It is the crack. The past two days reminded me why I  kicked her out in the first place. She is worse now than before. She wants to be left alone but given any freedom, she self-destructs. I'd compromise if it didn't affect my sleep, or my life.  But it will end up happening. It is enviable.

Snow

The snow started in the evening. I did not notice at first. I was busy exercising on my bike, showering, and working on a Lego project. It was after eight before I looked outside. The temperature is in the teens. The snow is light and accumulating fast. The wind is blowing it around adding to the whiteout conditions. They say we will be getting 6 to 10 inches. I am looking forward to taking the Gladiator out into it tomorrow.

It seems like a large swath of the nation is getting snow. This will be the most we have received at one time so far this year. It is pretty good considering it is mid-February. I have not ventured from the house much. A run to the grocery store and a quick trip to the craft store are the two exceptions this week.

Firefly is back. She rolled in Friday night looking worse for wear and announced, "I am going to take a shower."

"Hello to you too," I replied.

She did not do herself any favors while she was on her own. There is not much good I can say about her condition. She has been using. I think having a stable home helps, but not enough. She is her own worst enemy.