Bitching Seaweed

Cynic:  A person who's outlook is scornfully negative.

I'm in Hawaii, garden spot of the world, and I don't fucking get it.  Don't get me wrong: I get it but I just don't like getting it.  I can see how great a place this would be if you were a water person or you had little kids or you lived someplace where it's very cold so that simply being someplace warm would be reward enough.  Some folks are living busy, stressful lives and need a break.  But for someone who is none of those this place seems slovenly, lazy, a haunt for slackards.  I've never understood why wearing an untucked shirt and baggy exercise pants is shorthand for "relaxed."  What?  If you're shirt is tucked in and has a collar you're stressed out?  

On my first night I stood at the concierge desk behind a woman in a dripping wet bathing suit who had no business being out in public with much skin exposed.  Hey, this is my vacation, too, and seeing all of that corpulent, sagging flesh is not making things better for me.

And it is, as you know, all about me.

I'm at a resort, too, and that means I'm in a community of travelers who like resorts.  Kauai, to its credit, has tried to keep development under control so no high rise hotels.  This means resort life is more or less the selection.  This allows the aforementioned slackards to stagger between the pool and the various buffet meals, mostly unclothed, maybe taking time out for a nap. I'd tip my cap to the outliers who are reading around the pool but I haven't seen a book that falls outside of the genre Shit Literature.

No one but me does it right.

I am keeping my mouth closed.

"Scornfully" negative.  I like that.  I'm looking forward to going home and telling people: "Hawaii . . . meh."

Rich and Famous Seaweed

This is why I have no friends . . . 

I was talking to a "friend" after the meeting this morning about the 4th Step inventory he's currently working on.  He has done the first three columns where you list the people that you currently resent; the cause (or reason) for the particular resentment associated with this person; and what it affects, usually something in the Sex! Power!! Money!!! departments.  Then there is sort of an unofficial 4th column, not really found in The Book but popular with alcoholics, where one tries to figure one's part in the particular resentment, as loath as we are to do this.

"The best part is when you get to the 6th column," I said.  I didn't even pretend to stop at the 5th column.  That's how I am - I get way down the road real fast. 

He sort of half-smiled, looking a little perplexed.

"Yeah, the 6th column," I continued, pressing my advantage.  "That's where you get to blame everyone else.  That's where you find out it really IS them.  It isn't you after all."

He hesitated a minute.  

"Are you serious?" he asked.

I still got it.  I can still lie with the best of them.

I tell the truth today, by and large, because it's the right thing.  I don't believe for a minute that it's the most enjoyable thing to do.  Lying is much more enjoyable.  It gets you out of tight spots and makes you look better in the eyes of other on the occasions where you get away with a whopper; for instance, convincing someone that you're an NFL quarterback.  People look at you with more admiration when they think you're rich and famous.  Plus, I have a long history of lying and a strong natural ability to lie.

I'm telling the truth here.

Pustule Blitzkrieg

Balance:  Mental equilibrium; calmness, a state of remaining clearheaded and unperturbed.

So I get this thing on my lower eyelid, sort of a zit-like pustule, except it's on my lower eyelid and not my face, continuing my unbroken string of high-school-like behavior.  For those of you born without eyelids and unfamiliar with this particular body part, it abuts the eye itself.  It touches the eye.  It is in contact with the eye.  If you can imagine a part of your body that - when swollen - would irritate the eye itself more than the lower eyelid, I urge you to write me personally at: "You Got Fuckin' Nuthin', CA, USA."

Here are some words I enjoy with pustules . . . 
Angry - as in "that's an angry looking wound."
Massage: as in "I don't care how much this stings you need to massage the pustule from time to time."
Express - as in "once the infection causing the angry-looking wound has progressed sufficiently the infection will express its ass out of the wound."  And into the eye itself, I may add, with a lower eyelid infection, infecting the eye itself.

The one thing that I do with a wound is to frequently poke around the general area which is the one thing you're never supposed to do.  This irritates the wound, it makes it look worse, all while not doing anything to improve the situation.  I guess I figure I can make it heal faster.  I don't know why I think this, except that in a general way, I believe that if I furiously push buttons and pull levers and turn knobs that I'll get where I want to go, and right fast.

Anyway, when my body is barking at me I either figure that I have cancer and need to charter a private jet to the Mayo Clinic or I try to ignore the afflicted area, pretending that nothing's wrong.  If I need to do something I wait forever and if I should practice some patience I fly off the handle.  I don't like to wait for an outcome.  While my body seems to gather itself, marshal its defenses, and handle the situation, I want 25 Panzer Divisions storming across the border in a furious Blitzkrieg.

Did you know that Blitzkrieg means "Lightning War?"  

True fact.

I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight is I didn't also provide this definition:
Pustule:  A small accumulation of pus in the dermis or epidermis.

Regretful Karma, Kramer

Regret:  To feel sorry about (a thing that has or has not happened); to wish that a thing had not happened, that something else had happened instead.

So many of us in The Fellowship have similar defects and strengths and attitudes about life that I can get swept up into over-simplified generalizations or a narrow, one-sided view of myself.  In a way - in a much better way - it reminds me of the old days, sitting around in a bar with a bunch of other drunks, slapping each other on the back and trying to convince ourselves that we were doing great, that it was the world that was messed up.  This is a huge drawback of  considering things from a single point of view.  Even after some time in The Program I still get irritated when it's suggested that I'm not doing a thing right but the difference today is that I'm stimulated to approach the thing with an open-ish mind.

The series of conversations that I have with my previously mentioned, distinctly non-alcoholic old friend are more important to me than I realize.  In many ways he and I are similar men facing life with a similar set of tools and attitudes.  More importantly - and germane to this flight of fancy -  we have some significant personality differences that cause us to approach situations with a very different mindset.  He has an extroverted personality and relies a lot on feelings and hunches while I'm more the introvert and a true, dispassionate, cold-hearted realist with an absolute faith in facts and figures.  He'll face a problem, think deeply on it, consider the pros and cons, then, more often than not, make an a gut decision based on his feel of the situation, often tormented as to whether or not he has made the right decision.  He regrets and second-guesses if he doesn't get the result he thinks he should get.

I, on the other hand, read and study and ponder and bounce ideas off of people, put together spread sheets and documents with neat columns listing the pros and cons of the situation, then I make a decision.  I rarely regret these decisions.  I'm not suggesting that - in hindsight - I wouldn't have made a different decision, just that I did the best I could with the tools I had at the time.  I guess I don't regret my actions very often, a word that implies that I wish something else had happened instead.  While this allows me a freedom to make a decision - not overly concerned that a different choice may have led to an outcome more to my liking - with a relaxed attitude and a clear conscience, it also can force me to stand on the deck of a swamped and sinking ship overly long.

"Look," I'll say.  "I'm not changing.  I've done the research.  I don't care if my ass is on fire - I'm sticking to my guns here so you can put that bucket of water away."

I am grateful for The Fellowship with its emphasis on keeping an open mind.  It has made me   . . . well, more peaceful, this open minded thing.  I don't believe that it's possible to call life's bluffs all of the time.  Sometimes I just don't get what I want or - even worse - I get what I don't want.  I'm afflicted with a boil or head lice.  Both of these outcomes are both distressing but inevitable.  It has led to a belief that life is kind of a compromise.  I get a lot of good stuff and I avoid a lot of bad stuff, just not all of it and not all of the time.

" . . . for he makes his sun rise on the bad and the good, and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust."

Well, that hardly seems fair.  That is a bullshit rule.

Karma:  A force or law of nature which causes one to reap what one sows.

Yeah, that seems more like it.  Punish the evil bastards.

I am grateful for my religious upbringing and my ongoing constant application of prayer and meditation to the trials of life.  This also helps me maintain a nice perspective.  I don't agonize overly much on things because I believe mistakes are inevitable and that all will work out in the long run.

It is what it is.  This is great advice except when it makes me want to . . . totally . . . lose . . . my shit.

Wear The World Like A Loose Garment

And back to my buddy . . . . 

One of the biggest emotional connections I have with him revolves around our shared tendency to drive hard to the hoop, so to speak.  This is often a good thing until it's not.  When there's a 280 pound, 6 foot 11 inch center camped in the vicinity of the rim one could make the case to pull it out and throw up a wild three.  The driving fool can score a lot of points.  He can eat some basketballs, too.  

This rarely stops either of us.  We score a lot.  I'm also missing most of my front teeth.

It's easy to sit on the bench and wonder what the hell is going through the mind of the guy challenging the monster in the middle.  When he snakes through the defense and scores I'm filled with admiration.  When he's picking pieces of leather out of his scalp I'm a little more dismissive.

I am grateful for my spiritual upbringing.  I'm also grateful for the sense of proportion that has come out of my time in The Fellowship.  I still go like a bat outta hell, just not all of the time.  Prayer and meditation has provided me with some perspective on life, the knowledge that I'm not going to get what I want all of the time and that I'm not going to avoid some shit that I'd rather avoid.

Today I make a list of what I want and I'm thrilled no end when I get half of it.  I don't make ridiculous lists any more.  It is not realistic to expect to get everything that I want.  I don't punish myself like that.

Wear the world like a loose garment.

SMP

Guilt:  Awareness, feeling of having done wrong; remorse.

My mind wandered back through my pre-recovery life during my Quiet Time this morning.  Sometimes I feel weirdly uncomfortable with all of the blessings I have in my life, especially in post-fire and post-mudslide SoCal.  A lot of people lost a lot of stuff and too many people lost their lives.

I did have a couple of things on my mind that I thought I could bring up to fill any dead air time during my last therapy session.  Being on a smooth path is a nice problem to have when dealing with a mental health professional.  I wanted to talk a little bit about money, ironically while I was mentally calculating my per minute charges to sit in a room without anything pressing to talk about.

I have a group of close friends who know in a general sense how I'm doing financially.  This is important to a guy raised in a household where money talk was strictly verboten.  It's no wonder I made a mess of my finances - it was as welcome a topic around the dinner table as head lice or projectile vomiting.  In some ways this is OK - I'd rather be low-key about what I do or don't have in the Sex! Money!! Power!!! department than the other way around.  Nothing worse than listening to a humble-brag from someone dying to let you know how much Sex! Money!!  Power!!! they're enjoying.

I talked in specific numbers.  I include my nice house - fixed-up, my adequate bank account, and our Very Expensive Cars in the Gratitude List part of my morning meditation.  I voice this gratitude at the end of my Gratitude List, rightly recognizing that my relationships with people are what really counts.  Nonetheless, I wanted to make sure I wasn't hiding any sneakiness or heaping any unwarranted guilt on my own shoulders.

I think in a general sense a financial buffer is a security blanket.  I know it was for my parents - they were happy enough with the stuff they had so they viewed their savings as a hedge against a future calamity, one that never came if you want to dip a toe into the irony pool.  I think they were unconcerned that there was money left over when they died.  I don't sense that they felt deprived of any stuff.  I laugh at myself pondering various selections in the day-old baked goods bin or the slightly rotten vegetable section.  I can afford top shelf stuff but I've been making due with the edgier shit for so long it just feels natural to stay that course.

I also ponder how miserable I was for much of my life before I got sober.  I was drunk, I was stoned, or I was anxious.  No matter what I got accomplished each day I felt the burden of the next day weighing me down.  I was never relaxed.

I'm goddam relaxed now.  Most of the time.  Some of the time.  Every now and then.

Bank Shot

Stubborn:  Refusing to move or change one's opinion; obstinate; firmly resisting.

I have this very close, sometimes contentious relationship with the guy who is in from out of town.  I spoke about him at some length with My Therapist yesterday.  It made me realize how important this relationship is to me - just how important.  He's a lot like me - competitive, somewhat arrogant, definitely pedantic, stubborn as shit - while differing in important ways.  He makes his decisions on the feel of things while I relentlessly investigate the facts as I understand them, then decide dispassionately.  It's helpful to have a friend who looks at things differently.  I still want to tell him why he's doing it wrong.

My Therapist was surprised that I made a second appointment and that I kept that appointment.  She was convinced I wouldn't come back.  Sound like an arrogant, pedantic, stubborn know-it-all?  The last few visits have been along the lines of shooting the shit, poking around, digging a little deeper.  I'm getting something out of it and I often don't see the it coming.  At the beginning I was in a deep hole so it wasn't too tough to figure out that I needed to dig furiously.  Now I'm shaping the contours of the rut that I've furnished and occupied.

Deal With It, Seaweed

Problem:  A difficulty that has to be resolved or dealt with.

See, that right there is interesting, the idea that a problem is a difficulty that has to be addressed.  There is solution shit in the definition of the word problem.  I thought that a problem was something to be avoided or repressed, buried under a mountain of self-denial, drowned in a sea of alcohol, obscured by a bank of dope smoke.

When I was really struggling with all of the death my Program buddies would bounce ideas off me, throw queries my way, make me look at my actions in a different light or at an odd angle, often ending the session with "Well, sounds like you're taking a lot of good action."  

Sheesh.  I was hoping for an answer, not a bromide.

Sometimes all I have to say in a similar instance is: "Man.  You're really going to be able to help someone some day."  This is a long way from believing that a problem is something to vanquish.  I want problems to go away.  I don't want to grow from them or learn something new or put on some emotional muscle mass.  I want to blow right by them in my Very Expensive Car.

Zoom Zoom.

Problem Seaweed

Solution:  An act, plan, or other means, used or proposed, to solve a problem.

I have scaled back my therapist activity to once a month.  I'm struggling a bit to hork up anything to talk about but have decided that a regular visit is probably in my best interest.  It's like The Program that way - if I didn't go to a meeting today I'm confident that it wouldn't have led to a relapse, but I know that sanity maintenance requires some time and effort.  I don't know what happens when I change the oil in my car.  I don't know where the oil goes or what it does.  I do it anyway.  Sometimes a tidbit will be unearthed as the conversation meanders this way and that.  Plus, I like paying for pretty obvious advice that I normally get for free in The Program.

Yesterday I was musing about my tendency to bemoan something left undone at the end of each day.  I'm a problem guy.  I can spot a problem at a hundred paces, at night, in a sandstorm, wearing a blindfold.  Just to be clear - I'm wearing the blindfold, not the sandstorm.  This tendency includes undone tasks du jour and old, familiar tasks of long-standing.  Someone should point out that if you haven't done it yet maybe you're never going to do it.  My therapist made this comment yesterday: "So you didn't do that.  So what?"

Ah, solution shit.  I forget about that stuff.

"We have been talking about problems because we are problem people who have found a way up and out, and who wish to share our knowledge of that way with all who can use it."

Thinking Man

I've got a friend who's visiting the area for a couple of weeks.  Dude cracks me up.  Dude is so like me with his belief in his own World Manipulation skills.  I have this habit of blowing into town with my address book and my cell phone and my PC and my impossibly large list of events to attend and sites to see and experiences to experience, and then I start to wheel and deal.  As a general rule I couldn't get everything on my list completed if the time I had to accomplish them was increased by a factor of three or four.  I'm not even going to pretend that twice as much time would be sufficient.  I'm so overextended it's not even plausible.  It's Fake Seaweed is what it is.

I believe that every action we take satisfies some need or drive that we have.  I believe that this is the case even when we are doing things that are clearly not in our best interests.  For some reason I dig feeling frustrated that I rarely get everything done.  Intellectually I know I'm doing this but I do it anyway.  I've got shit on my To Do List that has been on there forever.  You'd think that at some point I'd say "not going to happen."  

You would think.