"Everyboooody get up get up get up get up get up get up get up"
Church was really great earlier. We had this awesome Palm Sunday celebration with confetti being blown out of air cannons. I had never experienced anything like this before. I had no idea church could be so Hardcore! It was a party, and party hardy we did to celebrate Jesus' historic entrance into Jerusalem a week before he was crucified. Things got so crazy that I don't think anyone noticed when I totally botched the slides. lol. I keep reminding myself that its all for glorifying Jesus and that its not about me at all and I pray to Jesus every sunday evening that he will guide my hands so that I can do a slideshow that is truly worthy of him. I have the luxury of volunteering for a job where people really tend to notice when you mess up. Good thing I killed off pretty much all my pride about a year ago, or this would be the sort of thing to keep me awake at night. My biggest critic is myself. I tend to ignore it when others criticize me. I guess I hold myself to standards that are unrealistic sometimes. I can't possibly do it perfectly, so until Jesus himself takes over the job, I'll keep making occasional mistakes on the slides. Few people notice anyway and it isn't a big deal. Besides, I'm sure the rest of the production team criticizes themselves occasionally on the job they do at worship services as well. The funniest part of the service was at the end when Pat was finishing the last song and Bustin' Justin ran up on stage and nailed him with a huge load of paper strips. He made a hasty exit and for a moment I was reminded of John Wilkes Boothe's escape after shooting Abraham Lincoln. In no way am I comparing Bustin' Justin to John Wilkes Boothe, merely, the hasty exit. However, Justin did not jump off of a balcony and he did not break his leg. He was not cornered in a barn several days later and shot before being taken to a federal prison. In all, It was a very good paper confetti assassination and it was all done for Jesus I'm sure. Amen. Below is another drug related horror story for whomsoever would endeavor to read it. I haven't had a mishap with an entry failing to post on me for awhile and I fear I may be due for another one soon, so I will paste this entry to wordpad before posting in case I have to redo it.
In Control
Jackson Minwax had been chasing the ultimate high since that first time two years ago when he'd tried Ecstasy for the first time. The best highs had happened on the occasions when he'd piggy backed several drugs on top of each other. The best one he'd had so far was a joint that combined, pot, meth, pcp, crack, and prozac. Two hallucinogens, two stimulants and an antidepressant to counteract the after effects. It didn't work out quite the way he'd envisioned, however, and he spent the better part of the next day in the ER. There had been just too much was the problem, he decided that next time he would decrease the dosage. If there was a next time. It had been terribly expensive. Factoring in the quantities of each of the different drugs he'd purchased, he figured the cost of that one joint at about thirty dollars. Then too was the fact that he rememberred little of what had happened other than feeling totally invincible and being able to walk through a sliding glass door without feeling it.
It was becoming increasingly more difficult to support his drug habit. Jackson had begun breaking into cars and stealing the stereos for cash. This was also becoming more difficult as security systems were becoming more prevalent. Or sometimes it was the stereo. He'd broken into a Honda Prelude a few days before Christmas only to find that the stereo was totally inoperable after being disconnected from power. It was one of those Eclipse stereos with the security feature that allowed the owner to program it to detect a key cd if it were to ever be disconnected from power. The venture had been a total waste of time as he was stuck with a stereo that nobody would buy and was good for nothing at this point. On one occasion he had been attacked by a guard dog while trying to break into a BMW. His hand had nearly been chewed off and he couldn't use it for a week on account of a terrible infection. Jackson chalked those misadventures up to occupational hazards and continued in the line of work regardless.
Recently, he had heard of a concoction called a "Speedball" which involved mixing heroin with cocaine. Comedian John Belushi had died from shooting up with the mixture, but he was pretty far gone even before he had done it. Jackson was relatively new to the scene and his body had not been ravaged by the repeated drug use that can be seen in a veteran user. He reasoned that he could handle it. When drugs weren't available, Jackson quenched his thirst for mind altering substances by listening to this Happy Hardcore stuff that his friend Rick had turned him on to. He liked to shoot up and pop pills while listening to it as well. The cocaine and the heroine had been easy enough to find, but were expensive, which raised his expectations for the Speed Ball.
"This had better be worth it" He thought as he put 'Happy Hardcore Foundation' into his cd player. He flipped to track 14 and 'In Control' began to thump the room and rock the house while the poisonous mixture cooked on the spoon. Easy does it, Jackson, don't over fill that syringe. He looked around and wondered where that voice had come from and decided it must be the onset of psychosis due to the excessive amounts of LSD and Shrooms he had done over the past few months. After making sure the the belt was tight around his upper arm, he plunged the the needle into his vein and watched the mixture drain into him. The effects were almost instantaneous. He was flooded with a raging euphoria of epic proportions. Tunnel vision set in and the music became higher pitched and faster. Anime action lines warped outward from the center and he was reminded of that video game Starblade that he had played at funtasia many years ago. It was funny, he couldn't remember things from a few days or weeks ago, but could remember things from his childhood very clearly.
"My short term memory must be malfunctioning" He figured, and made a note to pick up some the next time he was at Radio Shack, when ever that was.
Soon, he could feel the beat in his chest and all throughout his body. No, that was his heart. The concoction had caused his heart rate to match the music in beats per minute. This was seriously wrong. The human heart wasn't meant to beat as fast as this music.
"I'm in control...I'm in control...I'm in control" The music droned. And for the first time since he had started abusing substances, Jackson wondered if he really was in control. And then the song broke into a trance build up and then the unintelligably high singing voice went
"We've gotta do this right, yeah we've gotta do it right" and it occured to him that maybe it hadn't been such a good idea after all. He reached for the phone and dialed 911 and managed to say "Coke...Heroine...it was too much" before going into a coma followed by convulsions. The emergency operator traced the call and dispatched the paramedics. Jackson was dead by the time they got there but they found a curious if not somewhat humourus note that read "Can't Remember...pick up more memory at Radio Shack"
In Control
Jackson Minwax had been chasing the ultimate high since that first time two years ago when he'd tried Ecstasy for the first time. The best highs had happened on the occasions when he'd piggy backed several drugs on top of each other. The best one he'd had so far was a joint that combined, pot, meth, pcp, crack, and prozac. Two hallucinogens, two stimulants and an antidepressant to counteract the after effects. It didn't work out quite the way he'd envisioned, however, and he spent the better part of the next day in the ER. There had been just too much was the problem, he decided that next time he would decrease the dosage. If there was a next time. It had been terribly expensive. Factoring in the quantities of each of the different drugs he'd purchased, he figured the cost of that one joint at about thirty dollars. Then too was the fact that he rememberred little of what had happened other than feeling totally invincible and being able to walk through a sliding glass door without feeling it.
It was becoming increasingly more difficult to support his drug habit. Jackson had begun breaking into cars and stealing the stereos for cash. This was also becoming more difficult as security systems were becoming more prevalent. Or sometimes it was the stereo. He'd broken into a Honda Prelude a few days before Christmas only to find that the stereo was totally inoperable after being disconnected from power. It was one of those Eclipse stereos with the security feature that allowed the owner to program it to detect a key cd if it were to ever be disconnected from power. The venture had been a total waste of time as he was stuck with a stereo that nobody would buy and was good for nothing at this point. On one occasion he had been attacked by a guard dog while trying to break into a BMW. His hand had nearly been chewed off and he couldn't use it for a week on account of a terrible infection. Jackson chalked those misadventures up to occupational hazards and continued in the line of work regardless.
Recently, he had heard of a concoction called a "Speedball" which involved mixing heroin with cocaine. Comedian John Belushi had died from shooting up with the mixture, but he was pretty far gone even before he had done it. Jackson was relatively new to the scene and his body had not been ravaged by the repeated drug use that can be seen in a veteran user. He reasoned that he could handle it. When drugs weren't available, Jackson quenched his thirst for mind altering substances by listening to this Happy Hardcore stuff that his friend Rick had turned him on to. He liked to shoot up and pop pills while listening to it as well. The cocaine and the heroine had been easy enough to find, but were expensive, which raised his expectations for the Speed Ball.
"This had better be worth it" He thought as he put 'Happy Hardcore Foundation' into his cd player. He flipped to track 14 and 'In Control' began to thump the room and rock the house while the poisonous mixture cooked on the spoon. Easy does it, Jackson, don't over fill that syringe. He looked around and wondered where that voice had come from and decided it must be the onset of psychosis due to the excessive amounts of LSD and Shrooms he had done over the past few months. After making sure the the belt was tight around his upper arm, he plunged the the needle into his vein and watched the mixture drain into him. The effects were almost instantaneous. He was flooded with a raging euphoria of epic proportions. Tunnel vision set in and the music became higher pitched and faster. Anime action lines warped outward from the center and he was reminded of that video game Starblade that he had played at funtasia many years ago. It was funny, he couldn't remember things from a few days or weeks ago, but could remember things from his childhood very clearly.
"My short term memory must be malfunctioning" He figured, and made a note to pick up some the next time he was at Radio Shack, when ever that was.
Soon, he could feel the beat in his chest and all throughout his body. No, that was his heart. The concoction had caused his heart rate to match the music in beats per minute. This was seriously wrong. The human heart wasn't meant to beat as fast as this music.
"I'm in control...I'm in control...I'm in control" The music droned. And for the first time since he had started abusing substances, Jackson wondered if he really was in control. And then the song broke into a trance build up and then the unintelligably high singing voice went
"We've gotta do this right, yeah we've gotta do it right" and it occured to him that maybe it hadn't been such a good idea after all. He reached for the phone and dialed 911 and managed to say "Coke...Heroine...it was too much" before going into a coma followed by convulsions. The emergency operator traced the call and dispatched the paramedics. Jackson was dead by the time they got there but they found a curious if not somewhat humourus note that read "Can't Remember...pick up more memory at Radio Shack"