Gloaming: Twilight.
Off into the gloaming we go. I didn't know what gloaming was until I looked it up. It's the time right before everything goes completely black. Perhaps I should leave earlier in the day.
Remember: It's always the darkest right before everything goes completely black.
There's always some buyer's remorse when I'm facing Big Changes. I look around at what I'm going to miss and wonder why I didn't appreciate it more. I look into the future and imagine it won't work out. I have euphoric recall about everything. I'm not the only one who does it - I've had more invitations to coffee in the last two weeks than I've had in the last six months. I marvel at how I take things for granted: people, places, and things.
Still. Onward and Something-ward. Change drives me nuts but I'm compelled by it. Looking forward big time to the adventure.
Monday, August 12, 2013
Sunday, August 11, 2013
That's It?
I had coffee today with a man who was just released from prison after serving 6 years of a 6 year prison sentence. We've become friends in the 3 weeks he has been on the street. This is NOT a guy that I would have been friends with when I was runnin' and gunnin', mostly because he would have scared me to death.
"So what were you in for?" I asked him a few days ago. I don't have much of a filter between my brain and my mouth and frankly, I could care less what he did. I ask people personal questions because we drunks aren't great at letting secrets out of the bag, referring instead to let them steep and stew in a frothy emotional soup of fear and paranoia. Ask me anything you want. If I don't want to tell you I won't tell you. It's not that complicated.
He declined to answer, politely. Frankly, who cares? We're all free to do and say what we want - we can keep as many cats in as many bags as we want. Meetings are not where we do 4th Steps and some cards we need to play close to the vest.
On the way to coffee today he told me what he had done. Frankly, I couldn't believe he served any time at all let alone 6 years of a 6 year sentence. Every now and then I steel myself to hear something really awful. I've never heard anything really awful. I haven't heard many things that I found all that interesting. Mostly it's little things that some guy has kept hidden for so long that it has been warped so that it doesn't recognize anything human.
I enjoyed coffee. I'm going to miss this guy.
"So what were you in for?" I asked him a few days ago. I don't have much of a filter between my brain and my mouth and frankly, I could care less what he did. I ask people personal questions because we drunks aren't great at letting secrets out of the bag, referring instead to let them steep and stew in a frothy emotional soup of fear and paranoia. Ask me anything you want. If I don't want to tell you I won't tell you. It's not that complicated.
He declined to answer, politely. Frankly, who cares? We're all free to do and say what we want - we can keep as many cats in as many bags as we want. Meetings are not where we do 4th Steps and some cards we need to play close to the vest.
On the way to coffee today he told me what he had done. Frankly, I couldn't believe he served any time at all let alone 6 years of a 6 year sentence. Every now and then I steel myself to hear something really awful. I've never heard anything really awful. I haven't heard many things that I found all that interesting. Mostly it's little things that some guy has kept hidden for so long that it has been warped so that it doesn't recognize anything human.
I enjoyed coffee. I'm going to miss this guy.
Friday, August 9, 2013
Progress, Not Something Or The Other
The topic of today's post is "What the Hell Is the Matter With Me, Anyway?" That could very well be the title of the entire blog. I could write about why I still go to meetings or how I hide selfish intentions under the guise of a good action or speculate on how clever I am at complicating everything.
I sent my relative a check for $100 in a nice card with a nice note. I tried to be sincere with the note but it didn't work very well. The note itself was nice but I didn't mean very much of it. I still think a favor is a favor and I still think I did a lot of nice things - always picking up the check for meals and coffees and the like - and I still think I didn't get the credit that I so richly deserve.
My relative cashed the check without comment. I was fairly sure that this would happen but it still stunned me into a temporary resentment. Apparently my generosity is so much bullshit, something I tell myself to ease my own struggles with the demons Power, Sex, and Money. Man, those demons are huge. They never quit. They never take a day off. They're hard-wired into my consciousness. I'm better with them but I'm not as good as I think I am.
Enough already, right? A new guy could say: "Hey, maybe you should leave these people alone?" This isn't a complicated situation - these folks stand on my buttons with all of their weight every time I see them.
I sent my relative a check for $100 in a nice card with a nice note. I tried to be sincere with the note but it didn't work very well. The note itself was nice but I didn't mean very much of it. I still think a favor is a favor and I still think I did a lot of nice things - always picking up the check for meals and coffees and the like - and I still think I didn't get the credit that I so richly deserve.
My relative cashed the check without comment. I was fairly sure that this would happen but it still stunned me into a temporary resentment. Apparently my generosity is so much bullshit, something I tell myself to ease my own struggles with the demons Power, Sex, and Money. Man, those demons are huge. They never quit. They never take a day off. They're hard-wired into my consciousness. I'm better with them but I'm not as good as I think I am.
Enough already, right? A new guy could say: "Hey, maybe you should leave these people alone?" This isn't a complicated situation - these folks stand on my buttons with all of their weight every time I see them.
Sunday, August 4, 2013
$100
Several years ago a relative asked me for money as my contribution to a family meal she was hosting. I was thinking more along the lines of picking up a pie or some good rolls. I had offered to host alternate meals at my place but my no alcohol policy took the starch out of that idea almost immediately. My relatives tried it once, fleeing as soon as the coffee was served as if the house was radiating toxic gas.
Incensed at this affront I called my friend Shorty who interrupted me and said, bluntly: "Here's what you're going to do. You're going to send her the check." Which I did, muttering curses, quickly freeing myself from what would surely have been a lingering, poisonous, utterly useless resentment.
I bought my Vacation City relative a Thank You card, wrote a nice note, and stuck in a hundred dollar check. I mailed it off. I hate giving up the money but if you had told me that I could have avoided two or three days of angst I would have sent her a two hundred dollar check.
Incensed at this affront I called my friend Shorty who interrupted me and said, bluntly: "Here's what you're going to do. You're going to send her the check." Which I did, muttering curses, quickly freeing myself from what would surely have been a lingering, poisonous, utterly useless resentment.
I bought my Vacation City relative a Thank You card, wrote a nice note, and stuck in a hundred dollar check. I mailed it off. I hate giving up the money but if you had told me that I could have avoided two or three days of angst I would have sent her a two hundred dollar check.
Thursday, August 1, 2013
False Information Given Intentionally
Lie: To give false information intentionally (verb).
An intentionally false statement; a statement intended to deceive, even if literally true (noun).
This moving thing is causing me all kinds of emotional problems. My ability to handle massive change has greatly improved but, once again, I'm unable to rise above the human condition. I'm better but I'm not great. I'm getting good, slowly.
I left my beloved car with relatives in Vacation City. These are good people, kind people, who drive me to distraction. It's not so much their behavior - which isn't that bad - but my reaction to their behavior. Both of them fall firmly in the category of people Who Do Exactly What They Want. This doesn't make them bad people. A little selfish, maybe, but that's hardly an indictable offense. I know something about being selfish. Complicating matters a bit in this case is their tendency to get pissy when they Don't Get To Do Exactly What They Want.
They agreed to let me park my car on their property while I was away in The New City wrapping up my affairs. I offered to wedge the thing in an unobtrusive corner of their large lot but they waved me off cheerily. I offered to plug the car into an electrical outlet to keep the battery charged . . . or to let them drive the car once or twice to accomplish the same thing. It's a nice car so they seemed eager to take it for a spin.
I was uneasy doing this. I'm a car guy. I don't think I'm much of a stuff guy but I am a car guy. If I won the lottery I'd be down at the Ferrari dealership that afternoon buying a convertible in every available color. I repeated myself to my relatives: it would be enough to drive the car once or twice. They know about me and cars - they joked about it a few times before I left.
A few nights ago I got an email from them asking what kind of fuel I put in the car. This upset me. I had left the car with a full tank. I stewed about it for a few days. I was embarrassed about being upset over a thing but we all have our unimportant things to be upset about. I wish I could let everything roll off my back but I'm sure as shit not there yet. I think I would have been sorta kinda OK with it if I hadn't been under the duress of the move, a stressful thing under the best of circumstances. I didn't leave the car there for them to use - I left it there so I could fly home. I wasn't sure how much they were actually driving it. I didn't want them to drive it at all. Any driving was too much.
I thought about calling and saying something along the lines of: "Quit driving the fucking car." That seemed to be an over the top reaction so I opted for the white lie - I told them I had temporarily suspended the insurance to save money as we transferred the policies from The New City to Vacation Town. I asked them to quit driving the car.
This was a bad move on so many levels that there isn't enough digital storage on all the servers on earth to hold it. Telling a lie never works out for me even when my motives are good. I just wanted them to stop driving the car - which they were doing against my clearly articulated wishes, being People Who Do Exactly What They Want To Do. I didn't want a confrontation; I didn't want them to feel bad; I wanted them to simply do what they had agreed to do. No more and no less.
After I sent the note to them I called the next day under the guise of wishing my cousin a happy birthday. "What luck," I thought. "A good reason to check up on the effectiveness of my lie." My cousin called me out immediately. As a general rule I don't lie very often mostly because I hate getting caught in the lie. The lying itself I still enjoy doing and I have demonstrated some real talent in that area to go along with my considerable experience, the above botched lie notwithstanding.
And my cousin wouldn't let me off the hook. She made a series of jokes about it. Poking at someone who is uncomfortable is a marginal business, especially when the joke has hooked barbs. I know I do it - I plow into someone I want to wound under the cloak of humor. Sarcasm: Hate with a smile. The kind thing to do would have been to leave the lie unmentioned when it wasn't hurting anyone. Probing it with white hot needles was unnecessary. She wanted me to be uncomfortable but not have to take any responsibility for it. Frankly, Id' rather have someone tell me to piss off than pretend that everything's OK.
When I suspend my car insurance it saves me X dollars per month so part of my lie - this always happens to lies: they get more involved and complicated and hard to remember - was mentioning the amount of money I would have saved by cancelling the insurance had I actually cancelled the insurance. Hopefully, I've established the fact that this is lie part.
Ah. So this was about money. She was not doing me a favor - she was providing a service that she expected to be compensated for. I misunderstood. I like doing favors. They make me feel good. I don't expect anything in return. That's a transaction. If I don't want to actually do a favor I don't' offer to do the favor. I say no. It's not complicated. I've learned that when I'm unsure about something the best answer is always No because it can be more easily changed to Yes than the other way around.
I do take full responsibility here. I told the lie. There's no nuance to the word.
More about the money tomorrow. . . .
An intentionally false statement; a statement intended to deceive, even if literally true (noun).
This moving thing is causing me all kinds of emotional problems. My ability to handle massive change has greatly improved but, once again, I'm unable to rise above the human condition. I'm better but I'm not great. I'm getting good, slowly.
I left my beloved car with relatives in Vacation City. These are good people, kind people, who drive me to distraction. It's not so much their behavior - which isn't that bad - but my reaction to their behavior. Both of them fall firmly in the category of people Who Do Exactly What They Want. This doesn't make them bad people. A little selfish, maybe, but that's hardly an indictable offense. I know something about being selfish. Complicating matters a bit in this case is their tendency to get pissy when they Don't Get To Do Exactly What They Want.
They agreed to let me park my car on their property while I was away in The New City wrapping up my affairs. I offered to wedge the thing in an unobtrusive corner of their large lot but they waved me off cheerily. I offered to plug the car into an electrical outlet to keep the battery charged . . . or to let them drive the car once or twice to accomplish the same thing. It's a nice car so they seemed eager to take it for a spin.
I was uneasy doing this. I'm a car guy. I don't think I'm much of a stuff guy but I am a car guy. If I won the lottery I'd be down at the Ferrari dealership that afternoon buying a convertible in every available color. I repeated myself to my relatives: it would be enough to drive the car once or twice. They know about me and cars - they joked about it a few times before I left.
A few nights ago I got an email from them asking what kind of fuel I put in the car. This upset me. I had left the car with a full tank. I stewed about it for a few days. I was embarrassed about being upset over a thing but we all have our unimportant things to be upset about. I wish I could let everything roll off my back but I'm sure as shit not there yet. I think I would have been sorta kinda OK with it if I hadn't been under the duress of the move, a stressful thing under the best of circumstances. I didn't leave the car there for them to use - I left it there so I could fly home. I wasn't sure how much they were actually driving it. I didn't want them to drive it at all. Any driving was too much.
I thought about calling and saying something along the lines of: "Quit driving the fucking car." That seemed to be an over the top reaction so I opted for the white lie - I told them I had temporarily suspended the insurance to save money as we transferred the policies from The New City to Vacation Town. I asked them to quit driving the car.
This was a bad move on so many levels that there isn't enough digital storage on all the servers on earth to hold it. Telling a lie never works out for me even when my motives are good. I just wanted them to stop driving the car - which they were doing against my clearly articulated wishes, being People Who Do Exactly What They Want To Do. I didn't want a confrontation; I didn't want them to feel bad; I wanted them to simply do what they had agreed to do. No more and no less.
After I sent the note to them I called the next day under the guise of wishing my cousin a happy birthday. "What luck," I thought. "A good reason to check up on the effectiveness of my lie." My cousin called me out immediately. As a general rule I don't lie very often mostly because I hate getting caught in the lie. The lying itself I still enjoy doing and I have demonstrated some real talent in that area to go along with my considerable experience, the above botched lie notwithstanding.
And my cousin wouldn't let me off the hook. She made a series of jokes about it. Poking at someone who is uncomfortable is a marginal business, especially when the joke has hooked barbs. I know I do it - I plow into someone I want to wound under the cloak of humor. Sarcasm: Hate with a smile. The kind thing to do would have been to leave the lie unmentioned when it wasn't hurting anyone. Probing it with white hot needles was unnecessary. She wanted me to be uncomfortable but not have to take any responsibility for it. Frankly, Id' rather have someone tell me to piss off than pretend that everything's OK.
When I suspend my car insurance it saves me X dollars per month so part of my lie - this always happens to lies: they get more involved and complicated and hard to remember - was mentioning the amount of money I would have saved by cancelling the insurance had I actually cancelled the insurance. Hopefully, I've established the fact that this is lie part.
Ah. So this was about money. She was not doing me a favor - she was providing a service that she expected to be compensated for. I misunderstood. I like doing favors. They make me feel good. I don't expect anything in return. That's a transaction. If I don't want to actually do a favor I don't' offer to do the favor. I say no. It's not complicated. I've learned that when I'm unsure about something the best answer is always No because it can be more easily changed to Yes than the other way around.
I do take full responsibility here. I told the lie. There's no nuance to the word.
More about the money tomorrow. . . .
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Action Seaweed
Results: The conclusion or end to which any course or condition of things leads, or which is obtained by any process or operation; consequence or effect.
God, help me do what I'm supposed to do, help me wait patiently when I'm not supposed to do anything, and let me know which is which.
My default setting is to be afraid. My history is to let fear stop me from doing something that needs to be done. Or I let fear spur me into ill-advised actions that are best left undone, at least for a while. And I have no idea which is which. Guess what kind of results I get from my behavior?
I am not in the results business anymore - I'm in the action business. I do what my conscience tells me to do, or not to do, and I leave it at that. How it works out, especially in the short run, is none of my business. It is what it is. I have no idea how my life is going to work out. I find that stuff I think is bad ends up being good and stuff that I think is bad ends up being good.
God, help me do what I'm supposed to do, help me wait patiently when I'm not supposed to do anything, and let me know which is which.
My default setting is to be afraid. My history is to let fear stop me from doing something that needs to be done. Or I let fear spur me into ill-advised actions that are best left undone, at least for a while. And I have no idea which is which. Guess what kind of results I get from my behavior?
I am not in the results business anymore - I'm in the action business. I do what my conscience tells me to do, or not to do, and I leave it at that. How it works out, especially in the short run, is none of my business. It is what it is. I have no idea how my life is going to work out. I find that stuff I think is bad ends up being good and stuff that I think is bad ends up being good.
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Good Times, Bad Times, I Know I've Had My Share
Sweet Spot: Any place which is optimum for a certain action to take place.
I was at the main square yesterday enjoying a delicious cup of Starbucks specialty coffee. It was overpriced but delicious. There were a couple of young men sitting in the outdoor patio area with several bags of cookies and candy in front of them, but no specialty coffees. I don't think they were patrons of Starbucks but they appeared to be heroin addicts on the nod.
One of the guys was semi-alert and he appeared to be semi-enjoying himself. He appeared to be in that sweet spot between needing a buzz and too much buzz. I liked that spot. I pursued that spot right up to the gates of insanity and death, a popular spot for alcoholics and drug addicts bent on their own self-destruction. It's like a park for us. Most people would not go to a park named Gate of Insanity and Death but we flock to it like they're giving away free Black Sabbath T-shirts. Unfortunately, that spot got shorter and shorter, eventually vanishing completely, leaving me in a world of hurt. It was a bad feeling when I could no longer locate that spot. We call that the Jumping Off Point, also a bad name for a park.
The other guy was roaring toward the too much buzz section of the spot. He appeared to be barely conscious. It was mesmerizing to watch. He would take a brightly colored Teddy Graham, inspect it closely, thoughtfully, then pop it in his mouth and begin methodically chewing. As he chewed carefully and methodically his head would begin to drop forward, slowly, slowly, until it reached an almost impossible angle, and it would hang there for a moment before something more advanced than the reptilian portion of his brain would engage and he'd snap upright.
Mr. Semi-alert was chewing brightly colored sticks of gum or maybe Gummy Bears. From time to he'd remove a piece of wet stuff from his mouth, roll it into a small ball, and stick it on his friend's face. Mr. Nodding-off had several pieces of bright green, blue, and red wads of food stuck to his cheeks and forehead. He looked like he was suffering from fluorescent smallpox. He didn't seem to notice or he didn't care. Mr. Semi-alert found this hilarious.
Good friends, good times.
I was at the main square yesterday enjoying a delicious cup of Starbucks specialty coffee. It was overpriced but delicious. There were a couple of young men sitting in the outdoor patio area with several bags of cookies and candy in front of them, but no specialty coffees. I don't think they were patrons of Starbucks but they appeared to be heroin addicts on the nod.
One of the guys was semi-alert and he appeared to be semi-enjoying himself. He appeared to be in that sweet spot between needing a buzz and too much buzz. I liked that spot. I pursued that spot right up to the gates of insanity and death, a popular spot for alcoholics and drug addicts bent on their own self-destruction. It's like a park for us. Most people would not go to a park named Gate of Insanity and Death but we flock to it like they're giving away free Black Sabbath T-shirts. Unfortunately, that spot got shorter and shorter, eventually vanishing completely, leaving me in a world of hurt. It was a bad feeling when I could no longer locate that spot. We call that the Jumping Off Point, also a bad name for a park.
The other guy was roaring toward the too much buzz section of the spot. He appeared to be barely conscious. It was mesmerizing to watch. He would take a brightly colored Teddy Graham, inspect it closely, thoughtfully, then pop it in his mouth and begin methodically chewing. As he chewed carefully and methodically his head would begin to drop forward, slowly, slowly, until it reached an almost impossible angle, and it would hang there for a moment before something more advanced than the reptilian portion of his brain would engage and he'd snap upright.
Mr. Semi-alert was chewing brightly colored sticks of gum or maybe Gummy Bears. From time to he'd remove a piece of wet stuff from his mouth, roll it into a small ball, and stick it on his friend's face. Mr. Nodding-off had several pieces of bright green, blue, and red wads of food stuck to his cheeks and forehead. He looked like he was suffering from fluorescent smallpox. He didn't seem to notice or he didn't care. Mr. Semi-alert found this hilarious.
Good friends, good times.
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