Arf blah blah Sep 10 pig's butt
Yesterday I signed up for the US Half Marathon. http://www.ushalf.com/default.htm It's kind of daunting. I just did it on impulse. I've found that I NEED deadlines and goals to stay productive and successful. The Bay to Breakers was 7.5 miles and this one is 13.1. So I'll need to really double down on the running, get up to about 9-10 miles every other night by November 5th. (Right now I'm at 5 miles a night)
Went to the track today for Mr. Moe's birthday. It was a really nice afternoon. Steve Merritt, Danny & Cindy, Thomas & Alissa all showed up for the big day. To be honest, I'd woken up and felt kind of not myself and down and manic all morning. Danny is a big booze guy and Steve and Thomas are all club-guys so I haven't really come across them in a year. I'd sort of been dreading how to re-introduce myself as I've been totally defined by drinking for so long. I used to have all these friends, primarily through going out and drinking and I find myself kind of sad and envious of people that can make friends that way. Kind of at a loss for how to make them again. It's weird to have a kind of identity crisis quietly going on inside. You're recovered, but not recovered and it's the social bridges that are toughest to cross for me. Also I think I felt kind of deficient, or maybe "deficient" isn't quite the right word, but sort of just that I would be uncompelling or uninteresting or dull because I don't drink anymore. On the other hand I thought maybe this might be the perfect segue or reintroduction to a segment of people that I've been having a hard time figuring out how to reapproach. I thought there might be this tight click of people who would leave me out. But nothing could have been further from the truth. They were all very warm and accomodating. It's like for the first time I can demostrate that I'm not just some slobbering pig.. that I'm a decent, smart guy who wants to be considerate toward others. In the past, I'd stick my hand out and joke for a while and then I'd fade away, the evening would tilt sideways and people would avoid me until I'd wake up with a pocket full of quarters wondering who to apologize to.. and that was in the "good" days, before I began waking up sick and needing to start drinking immediately. People sometimes say "Was it hard to stop? Is it hard not drinking?" For the most part, this is the easy part -- waking up face down on the mens room floor at Borders, wondering "Did I pass out for 5 minutes... or 2 hours? Whelp, nothing to do but march upstairs and see what's on the managers' face..." THAT'S the hard part. And having a million stories like that day after day after day that you can't tell anyone about -- that's hard.
Oh and my new car blew up. Yeah. I was sitting in a parking lot trying to turn it over when these demonic orange and red flames licked out from under the hood in slow motion. It was sort of like what happened to Robert Diniro in "Casino". For a second there's a feeling of non-reality and I remember getting an instantaneous feeling of hunger because the flames reminded one of a tailgate party. It was around dinner time and for a second I thought of veggie burgers. Then that second passed and a LARGE BALL OF FIRE plumed out from under my hood. I tried whacking at it with my jacket cause that's what they do in movies but it was ridiculous. No way. Next thing I know I'm running mad-dash toward the ferry building ticket booth and yelling "Call the fire department! Call the fire department!" All I could think of was $$$$$$$$$$. There were all these brand new Mercedize SUV's parked around me and thought for sure my car was going to blow up and kill several people and maybe someone walking their dog and I'd owe for the cars too. Headlline reads: "ASSHOLE STARTS CAR AND KILLS DOZENS AND DOG TOO" But as it turned out it was just my car that was destroyed. When the fire department was leaving I was so out of the loop of driving and I guess such a cynic that I asked a fireman "I know this might sound strange, but do I owe you fellas something? Am I on the hook for a bill here" And the guy just looks confused and says "...No man, we're the fire department - this is what we DO --"
I've been running over at a local track at San Rafael High. I get a strange kind of feeling of melancholy.. Just the worn out field and sloping bleachers and SR Bulldogs banners. I get sentimental, realizing exactly where and when I went wrong. Realizing it was right around the time I left high school that I began to lose myself, in a way. I've learned that not only can the drinking life finish you off in very obvious discernable ways at the end, before you decide to stay on that road or quit, but even VERY EARLY ON -- it robs you of your free thought. Leaves you always thinking of and angling for the next bout of drinking, kind of crippled and removed from making life plans and making something of yourself. You just don't have the wheel anymore -- if you're that kind of peron. So I have this sometimes overwhelming sense of sadness and gratitude as I run around in circles there, glad to have the respect of my friends and a decent place to live and the chance to make something of myself.
Went to the track today for Mr. Moe's birthday. It was a really nice afternoon. Steve Merritt, Danny & Cindy, Thomas & Alissa all showed up for the big day. To be honest, I'd woken up and felt kind of not myself and down and manic all morning. Danny is a big booze guy and Steve and Thomas are all club-guys so I haven't really come across them in a year. I'd sort of been dreading how to re-introduce myself as I've been totally defined by drinking for so long. I used to have all these friends, primarily through going out and drinking and I find myself kind of sad and envious of people that can make friends that way. Kind of at a loss for how to make them again. It's weird to have a kind of identity crisis quietly going on inside. You're recovered, but not recovered and it's the social bridges that are toughest to cross for me. Also I think I felt kind of deficient, or maybe "deficient" isn't quite the right word, but sort of just that I would be uncompelling or uninteresting or dull because I don't drink anymore. On the other hand I thought maybe this might be the perfect segue or reintroduction to a segment of people that I've been having a hard time figuring out how to reapproach. I thought there might be this tight click of people who would leave me out. But nothing could have been further from the truth. They were all very warm and accomodating. It's like for the first time I can demostrate that I'm not just some slobbering pig.. that I'm a decent, smart guy who wants to be considerate toward others. In the past, I'd stick my hand out and joke for a while and then I'd fade away, the evening would tilt sideways and people would avoid me until I'd wake up with a pocket full of quarters wondering who to apologize to.. and that was in the "good" days, before I began waking up sick and needing to start drinking immediately. People sometimes say "Was it hard to stop? Is it hard not drinking?" For the most part, this is the easy part -- waking up face down on the mens room floor at Borders, wondering "Did I pass out for 5 minutes... or 2 hours? Whelp, nothing to do but march upstairs and see what's on the managers' face..." THAT'S the hard part. And having a million stories like that day after day after day that you can't tell anyone about -- that's hard.
Oh and my new car blew up. Yeah. I was sitting in a parking lot trying to turn it over when these demonic orange and red flames licked out from under the hood in slow motion. It was sort of like what happened to Robert Diniro in "Casino". For a second there's a feeling of non-reality and I remember getting an instantaneous feeling of hunger because the flames reminded one of a tailgate party. It was around dinner time and for a second I thought of veggie burgers. Then that second passed and a LARGE BALL OF FIRE plumed out from under my hood. I tried whacking at it with my jacket cause that's what they do in movies but it was ridiculous. No way. Next thing I know I'm running mad-dash toward the ferry building ticket booth and yelling "Call the fire department! Call the fire department!" All I could think of was $$$$$$$$$$. There were all these brand new Mercedize SUV's parked around me and thought for sure my car was going to blow up and kill several people and maybe someone walking their dog and I'd owe for the cars too. Headlline reads: "ASSHOLE STARTS CAR AND KILLS DOZENS AND DOG TOO" But as it turned out it was just my car that was destroyed. When the fire department was leaving I was so out of the loop of driving and I guess such a cynic that I asked a fireman "I know this might sound strange, but do I owe you fellas something? Am I on the hook for a bill here" And the guy just looks confused and says "...No man, we're the fire department - this is what we DO --"
I've been running over at a local track at San Rafael High. I get a strange kind of feeling of melancholy.. Just the worn out field and sloping bleachers and SR Bulldogs banners. I get sentimental, realizing exactly where and when I went wrong. Realizing it was right around the time I left high school that I began to lose myself, in a way. I've learned that not only can the drinking life finish you off in very obvious discernable ways at the end, before you decide to stay on that road or quit, but even VERY EARLY ON -- it robs you of your free thought. Leaves you always thinking of and angling for the next bout of drinking, kind of crippled and removed from making life plans and making something of yourself. You just don't have the wheel anymore -- if you're that kind of peron. So I have this sometimes overwhelming sense of sadness and gratitude as I run around in circles there, glad to have the respect of my friends and a decent place to live and the chance to make something of myself.