St. Elsewhere

Else: In a different time, place, or manner; differently; otherwise.

I'm certain that today I would be happy if I had Something Else. The things that I have are not the right things. I'm in the wrong relationships, I was born into the wrong family, and I think that I have someone else's stuff. I was actually in line to get George Clooney's face but he elbowed his way ahead of me when the faces were being passed out. He thinks he's so hot -- see how many movie deals he could get if he had a big horse face.

I have a particularly sharp eye when it comes to evaluating other people's stuff. I'm sure if I had what you had that I would be happy. How did I get stuck with these crappy things? I want to be somewhere else. I want to be someone else. And in a great twist of cruel fate, when I get something that I desperately want, I can't figure out what the big attraction was. Then I spend my time sitting around bitching about how wonderful it used to be.

The goal, of course, is to be happy with what I have, which is more than I deserve in light of my atrocious behavior.

Crystal Ball, Crystal Ball, Tell Me What You See

Forward: Moving toward a point in front; onward; advancing; toward the future.

Sometimes I just have to start moving forward. This is not always to my liking. I usually prefer hunkering down and holding on to the gains that I have made, even if they are painful or poisonous. The scorpion in my shorts is kind of an old friend at this point -- I'm comfortable with the pain. I know what to expect. I'm worried that if I have to evict the creature that something worse will move in. The fear of the new tenant terrifies me more than the occasional scorpion laceration.

And I'm not adverse to moving back into the past, as I have already been there and know what to expect. It can't be any worse than it already was and that didn't kill me. I spend a lot of time reliving old slights and trying to reconstruct burned bridges. I regret what might have been. While to a person of sound psychological fiber this may seem a pointless exercise, it makes sense to me.

My experience is that most things don't work out that badly. I'm obligated to stay sober and to grow spiritually, and then I have to put one foot in front of the other and get moving. I have not been successful in predicting outcomes. Things have surprising twists and turns. If I wait for the right moment to move, I never accomplish anything.

There is no guarantee of success.

Due Diligence

Coast: To behave aimlessly; not make any serious effort; to continue in motion on momentum after propelling power has stopped.

Today I am going to rest on my laurels. I'm tired of all of the energy I have to expend to stay sober. Certainly my past accomplishments will guarantee future success. I may just retire from The Fellowship. I've been at this long enough that I'm ready to be promoted into a position of Senior Leadership where underlings and lackeys do all of the work for me. I want access to a secret old timers club.

I'm a smart guy. No doubt about it. I bet all of the knowledge I have accumulated about my disease will stand me in good stead. And if that isn't enough -- and I'm sure that it is -- I can fall back on my tremendous willpower. If I want something, I go after it and I get it, unless it takes too much work or a lot of time, then I throw in the towel and watch TV.

Recovery involves a lot of trudging. It involves a lot of repetition. I'm not very good at steady, patient effort. I

Quiet! I'm Thinking.

Think: To keep continually in the mind; be obsessed with.

I have been thinking a lot lately about thinking. I'm a great thinker. It's a lot easier thinking about doing something than actually doing something, especially if the required action is at all unpleasant or difficult. So I sit and think. I weigh options. I mull over possibilities. I have long arguments with bitter enemies, confounding them with my brilliant logic. I convince everyone that my point of view is correct. Everyone comes to accept my way of thinking.

I have a wonderful ability of convincing myself that whatever I want to believe is, in fact, true. I am not usually deterred by the facts. Facts are play-doh to someone with my intellect. I can mold the facts to my liking. I can make a square peg fit in a round hole. I have a lot of powerful hammers. I am skilled at pounding. You better believe that those fucking square pegs go where I want them to go.

On the surface I appear to be a run of the mill horse-faced guy with a pleasant, somewhat vacant look on my face. This unremarkable exterior masks a much more sinister interior. The scene inside is nightmarish. It's Charlie and The Chocolate factory on steroids, right after the oompah-loompahs have taken LSD and gotten off of their anti-psychotic medication. It is not for the faint of heart.

What Do You Have in Your Box of Goodies?

Satisfactory: Satisfying; fulfilling all needs, expectations, wishes, desires, requirements, etc.

The big trick is figuring out how to be happy with what you have. It isn't as easy as it sounds. Actually, it doesn't even sound that easy. It sounds like a parlor trick performed by a desperately clever magician. It sounds like one of those impenetrable mental exercises. What would happen if an unstoppable force ran into an immovable object? How loud is too loud when one is listening to Black Sabbath?

I'm happy with what you have. Your stuff looks great. I'm not much interested in what I have. I'm very, very interested in what I don't have. I'm sure that I would be much happier if I had something else. How did I end up with all this crappy stuff, anyhow? This lousy job, these unsatisfying relationships, this dysfunctional family?

I get something, and I want something else. I'm bored immediately. I can't believe how much money I just spent for this thing I don't even like. I can't believe I quit my last job to take this awful job that I have now.

The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.

Selfish is the Way To Go

Selfish: Having such regard for one's won interests and advantage that the happiness and welfare of others become of less concern than is considered right or just; too much concerned with one's own welfare.

I spend a lot of time thinking about what it means to be self-centered. Not as much time as I spend acting in a totally self-absorbed fashion, but still it adds up to a pretty significant block of time. I like to think about myself. It's my favorite topic. I am astounded to find out that other people don't spend all of their free time thinking about me. It could be helpful to me if they did. Maybe they could come up with creative solutions to the problems that I cause myself with my bad decisions and poor behavior.

The path to success for me has been to pretend like I care what is going on in someone else's life, even though I don't. I put a lot of stock in acting. I try to avoid the thinking thing. My thinker is on the fritz. The wiring up there has not been installed by a licensed electrician. I can't find the source of that loud buzzing, crackling noise that I hear from time to time. I can only assume it is not going to be good news. I pretend it doesn't exist. When my car makes an unusual sound, I turn up the radio.

When I behave well, I find that my thinking changes. I start to care about all of those people that I don't care about

Anger Infuriates Me

Anger: A feeling that may result from injury, mistreatment, opposition, etc.; it usually shows itself in a desire to hit out at something or someone else; wrath; indignation; rage; ire.

I'm not sure that I was aware that there was any other kind of feeling except for rage, wrath, and ire before I got into recovery. I had a passing acquaintance with depression but even in my parboiled state I knew that was the result of beating myself with my own Club of Anger. I have always subscribed to the theory that the best defense is a good offense, so when I don't feel good I take it out on someone else. It's your fault. It is a lot easier to scream furiously at one of my many clueless victims than to accept that my frustration with my own shortcomings is the real source of my problems.

I don't believe it's healthy for me to pretend that anger doesn't exist. It's a human emotion that we all have. I am done, however, with stuffing my rage deep down inside where the sun doesn't shine. Serenity now -- insanity later.

My anger is like nuclear fission. It can provide power for millions of people or it can wipe Turkestan off of the map. It's going to keep fissioning away. The trick is to quit pushing the Launch button.