Judge and Jury

Judge:  To sit in judgment on; to pass sentence on.  

I have a couple of groups that I attend regularly.  I like both of them but that doesn't mean I can't find plenty to dislike as well.  It's what I do: find fault with things.  These things don't have to have any faults to uncover, either.  I can manufacture faults out of air.  It's a lot more fun than showcasing merits.  Who does that?  And why?

Today's meeting is my nominal home group.  The meeting has a lot of strong personalities, a fact that I like and that I hate.  Sometimes I wonder how we get anything accomplished at all.  We're opinionated and passionate and full of beans.  I'm not the only fault-finder attending meetings, either, I'll tell you what.  We're a prickly crowd.  We're people who would not ordinarily mix.  I've always liked the analogy of a lifeboat launched from a sinking ship - nobody looks around the boat, sniffs at the quality of the folks he sees, and slips back into the frigid, shark-infested, boiling ocean, even those who know that sharks don't hang around in frigid oceans.  Sharks are the beach bums of the large predatory fish.  You can either freeze to death in a frigid ocean or be eaten alive by a shark in nice, warm tropical waters - you can't do both.

This morning some of the more trying members talked and they talked too long.  It can be irritating.  There are some people I like to hear from and some I don't.  I try to remember that the meeting is a life preserver for the new person.  The meeting primarily exists to help the struggling newcomer.  The meeting isn't there so that pompous blowhards like me can dazzle the crowd with my wit and intelligence and wisdom.  I wasn't in danger of drinking today - I'm not sure that was the case for some of the people who talked, so I kept my mouth shut and tried to listen, as difficult a thing as that is for me to do.  I let people get things off of their respective chests.

And I have to remember that when I first showed up I was hip, slick, and cool.  I never acted like a pompous ass and everyone was thrilled when I raised my hand to talk.  They never wanted it to end. They hung on my every word.  They were saying: "Oh, please, Seaweed, keep talking about how bad you got it."

I thought there was a little not-so-subtle judging going on this morning.  Judging is another one of my favorite pastimes because I do it perfectly, whatever It happens to be.  My sponsor never listens to me bitch about another person.  Ever.  "Principles before personalities,"  he says.  And if I can't stop the bitching he'll tell me to go find another meeting or, better yet, start my own.  "Most meetings start with a coffee pot and a resentment," he says.  

There was a meeting in The Old City that I attended every week as did this woman who drove me completely, absolutely batshit.  It was like having a root canal every time she spoke - I could almost hear the whine of the high-speed dental drill start up.  One Saturday I got the bright idea to go to the bathroom and stand in there until the muffled sound of her voice ceased and desisted.  I enjoyed it so much I did it every week.  Until the Saturday  Little Westside Jonny waylaid me: "I know what you're doing," he said.  "I think you should stay in your seat and listen when she talks."  I ignored him, of course, because another one of my hobbies is ignoring good advice.  When I got up to pee the following week, if by "pee" you mean "go hang around the men's room," he caught my eye, tapped both of his ears, and jabbed his finger at his chair: "Sit down and listen."

I'm not sure I ever followed his advice but I never forgot it.