88 Days Until St. Patrick’s Day!

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              Woohoo!

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Stupid Stupid STupid

Fuck…I relapsed tonight.  Sorry for the language. I might regret it in the morning, at which time I’ll surely hit the edit button, but for now, I’m content wearing out my ‘backspace’ button and choosing to pretend no one will care about my choice of language.  I’m pretending a lot of things.  Like this was a good thing for me.  It occured me tonight (prior to using)…I have been on what is essentially one of the most powerful painkillers known to man for the better part of 29 months.  I don’t typically think of it in those terms, but honestly, who passes up an opportunity like that?

I do still have good intentions.  I used from the stash I still had sitting around, which had been tempting me to no end.  In a crudely honest moment, I know I planned on using it as a safety net when things got a little too scary.  Guess what, tonight was that night.  I currently have no intent to keep using once it’s gone.  Is that possible?  Hell yes it is.  Am I capable of it?  (Do I hear Jaws music playing in the background?)

I do want to apologize.  When I started this blog, I thought, hell yes…like a soul on earth will ever read this shit!…and then I started getting to know the wonderful people who do actually stop by.  Some of you are struggling with your own addictions, some of you steer clear of drugs for all the right reasons, and some of you are in between.  To everyone, I apologize from the bottom of my heart.  Tomorrow is a new day for all of us….

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I Hate Cars

I’m a neat freak, but only regarding things I care about.  I keep my apartment spotless by the most rigid standards.  However, I don’t particularly like cars.  I don’t like driving them; I don’t like America’s dependence on them; I don’t like how much money is required to keep them legal; and I loathe how much physical space and natural resources they consume.  Consequently, I haven’t cleaned my car in ages.  It’s a complete mess.  I stopped cleaning the outside a couple of years ago, because I take issue with how much car washes cost and the fact that they’re not good for the environment.  I also stopped cleaning the inside because……I have no idea why.  I just don’t like cars.  I am grateful to have one, but sometimes I think breaking my dependence on private transportation would be a good thing.  Then I ponder how western America underwent massive expansion at the same time the automobile did the same, and cities were designed around the automobile rather than public transportation.  What a gigantic mistake that was.  I would be a wreck without my car.  (Um…no pun intended.) 

My favorite newspaper just had an article about how it’s nearly impossible to hail a cab in Denver.  My experience has consistently been that you have to call a cab company, then wait typically 45+ minutes for one to show up.  If it’s a Friday or Saturday night, then forget it.  In a fantastic show of irony, a national taxi convention was just held at our convention center in the heart of downtown, and people who attended couldn’t get cabs afterward.  Get this…our mayor went down to personally give a few of them a lift after they had been stranded for something like two hours and called the mayor’s office to complain.

Our downtown bus service shuts down at 1:50 AM.  Bars close at 2:00 AM.  How shameless is that?  DUIs generate a lot of money for the state.  Hmm….

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Nickel and Diming

I have a bad habit of giving away my money when I’m drunk.  It’s also the only time I ever bet, but I will bet without inhibitions if the opportunity arises.  I’m at a lucky stage now where I have no money to give away, but typically, I buy rounds and then try to force my money on the friends I just bought rounds for.  I will also offer whatever money I have in my pockets to the stranger who opens up and tells me he’s broke.  I come up with elaborate excuses as to why I don’t need it. 

I’ve lost a lot of money this way.  I never regret it, because I don’t value money for money’s sake, and I would rather give it away than do something logical like put it in a bank and make interest off it…but it’s not a useful habit when the end of the month rolls around.

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Anniversary

glitter-martini.gifToday marks the 13th anniversary of the first time I ever got drunk.  I was 13.  From the little I remember, it was a lot of fun, but it also landed me in the hospital with a .37 BAC.  Woops.  That was when I learned that drinking had to be done in moderation.  When I got my first job, all my money went to paying off that bill to my parents.  I would have happily paid them three times over from the guilt I felt.

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My Uncle is a Ghost

I don’t mean metaphorically.  Ask me whether I believe in ghosts, and I’ll tell you I don’t know, but I’ll tell you that my uncle is one.

He died of an asthma attack in the late 70s, before I was born.  After my grandparents died, their kids sold the house.  The men in my dad’s family tend to have these rugged James Dean-type Hollywood good looks.  They look a lot alike.  That becomes important later.

One day, a few months after the house had been sold, one of my uncles was in the neighborhood.  He swung by, and was surprised to see a ‘For Sale’ sign.  A woman was outside gardening, so he decided to chat with her.  With one look at him, she turned and bolted for the house.  My uncle, terribly confused, approached the door anyway and knocked.  When she answered, this was the story he got….

Shortly after the new family moved in, a ghost began to haunt the place.  On many nights, he attempted to climb the stairs up to the second floor, where the bedrooms were located.  Every time, he collapsed and “died” of an asthma attack on the landing of the stairs before reaching the top.  They could see him, and they could hear him wheezing.  Pretty gruesome.

My uncle who stopped by the house that day looked more like the one who died than any of the other brothers.  They were the spitting image of each other.  The woman thought he was the ghost when he got out of the car.

My uncle asked if she was going to tell any prospective new owners, and she replied, “Would you?” 

True story.

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“Doubt is not a pleasant condition…

…but certainty is absurd.”  ~ Voltaire 

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I’m in this honeymoon phase where I’m off heroin, trying to appreciate that fact in all its simplicity, and adjusting to the immediate changes it’s brought.  I’m settling in.  I’m still gliding on the fact that I’ve done it…I did what I told everyone I was going to do, and…now I’m waiting for something along the lines of the hand of God to swoop down and let me sit upon it for awhile to sustain me.  Just for a bit.

Everyone tells me the hardest part comes once you’re clean.  I can cruise for a short time on the newness of it all.  I can find reward in getting to this point and pleasure in simple things once again (like eating without having to be reminded and coaxed by someone…hmm).  I’ve been through this all before, and it’s never lasted more than a couple of months.  The honeymoon ends; then I find I’m pissed off and scared (and must therefore avoid psychedelic drugs); I get tired of drinking myself into an emotionally anesthetized state; and I panic and go right back to the customary panacea for my troubles…or at least what allows me to ignore them with grand indifference.

I’m headed to an NA meeting tonight.  I’m not very excited, but I’m keeping an open mind.  Maybe that will be the difference this time, or at least a small piece of the puzzle.  I figure I need to change a lot of things.  I’m hoping for the best tonight. 

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