Sometimes I wish that I didn't have to go through some of the bullshit that I went through growing up and I'm using that term loosely - a lot of my growing up came far, far after I was . . . you know . . . grown up. But I wish I could have danced around the painful stuff, the bad decisions leading to crappy outcomes, avoided them altogether. I wish I had been spared from life's ups and downs. I feel this way particularly when I see someone else making bad decisions, when I know that this person is going to suffer because of these bad decisions. And I'm especially insufferable in my smug, condescending way those times when I'm right - it doesn't take a lot of life experience to be able to develop enough insight to be able to say: "I bet your work life and your family life and your interpersonal, inter-policial relationships would improve if you quit shooting heroin or drinking your breakfast." This isn't particularly profound stuff. I suffered mightily for a number of years because I was making decisions that were in the same emotional ballpark.
Yet, here I sit, pretty content with who I am. I don't mean to suggest that I'm anything but a work in progress but at least I've elevated myself from some kind of sub-mongoloid species up to more of a human being level. And I had to go through what I went through to get to this point. I think some of my strengths came from fighting and slaying these demons. I needed this experience to end up where I am, I needed to fall flat and fall flat again. I'm not sure, however, that I needed to fall flat quite as many times as I did - I am a slow learner.
The scary part is that some of us fall extremely flat. Pancake flat. Road runner smooshed by a steamroller flat. A good friend of mine got the call recently about a relative, a young guy in his early 30s, who fussed around with prescription narcotics once too often. Just because they come in a little bottle from a real pharmacy, filled from an actual prescription written by an actual doctor, doesn't mean that it's OK to crush them up and melt them down and stick them in your vein.
I wonder sometimes if we drunks handle death a little better than the general population because we see so much of it?
Barely 30.
Sunday, April 19, 2015
Thursday, April 16, 2015
Vascular Surgeons, Hammers, and Guns
I had an appointment today to have some tests run on my balky leg and then to see what the doctor had to say. He's a vascular surgeon. You know it isn't going to work out very well when you have to have a consultation with a surgeon who is so specialized he has to have a qualifier added to his title. What ever happened to just plain doctors? Everyone has to do something so narrowly focused that it would be hard to listen dubiously to the consultation and then say something like: "Fuck you say?" You know - burn them big time on some bullshit.
I had to coordinate the logistics of the test procedure and the consulting services of the surgeon with my All Powerful Insurance Company. There are places that run the tests and there are surgeons that would slice up my leg and sometimes both are affiliated, in the same office, but apparently your average surgeon wouldn't take the test results from an alien testing services and use them to swab out a urinal. They might even take the results - if you were to have the courage to hand them over - just so they could say something witty like: "Fuck is this shit?"
I'm a smart guy, right? I call the vascular surgeon to verify that he accepts my insurance, getting a big thumbs up. I stroll confidently into the office 15 minutes early - I'm a thoughtful guy, right? - only to be told that my insurance wasn't even remotely welcome at this particular office and I could pay cash and bill the out-of-network insurance plan on my own or I could take a fucking hike. Maybe they'd pay me directly - maybe they wouldn't. Not our problem was the distinct undertone.
So here I am looking for test results - that I assumed were going to be paid for almost entirely by my excellent insurance - on an optional procedure that I didn't have to miss any work to have done. It didn't work out very well. I'm a borderline psycho, right? I'm a short click away from taking a hammer and smashing out store windows half the time is what I am. I was going to say something about going up into a high tower with a rifle but I'm afraid of guns and get upset if I have to step on a spider - preferring to walk them outside on a piece of paper - so the analogy would have sucked.
It was just very frustrating. I had to sit down for 20 minutes and listen to my breath. I had to take what was happening out of the Very Fucking Important file and put it into the Are You Seriously Kidding Me? file. I had to stop with the anger over something solvable and not that important anyway. It's the stupid, illogical stuff that really riles me. I did ask for clarification at the office about what happened with the "your insurance is golden" part of my day. They admitted to the mistake but - in my opinion - lied about why they made the mistake, alleging that they verified my insurance eligibility but not that the office - you know - accepted the particular insurance plan, nearly prompting me to say something along the lines of: "Fuck you say - you verify eligibility on plans you don't accept?"
They were blissfully unaware of what was going on inside my head with the hammers and guns and everything.
I had to coordinate the logistics of the test procedure and the consulting services of the surgeon with my All Powerful Insurance Company. There are places that run the tests and there are surgeons that would slice up my leg and sometimes both are affiliated, in the same office, but apparently your average surgeon wouldn't take the test results from an alien testing services and use them to swab out a urinal. They might even take the results - if you were to have the courage to hand them over - just so they could say something witty like: "Fuck is this shit?"
I'm a smart guy, right? I call the vascular surgeon to verify that he accepts my insurance, getting a big thumbs up. I stroll confidently into the office 15 minutes early - I'm a thoughtful guy, right? - only to be told that my insurance wasn't even remotely welcome at this particular office and I could pay cash and bill the out-of-network insurance plan on my own or I could take a fucking hike. Maybe they'd pay me directly - maybe they wouldn't. Not our problem was the distinct undertone.
So here I am looking for test results - that I assumed were going to be paid for almost entirely by my excellent insurance - on an optional procedure that I didn't have to miss any work to have done. It didn't work out very well. I'm a borderline psycho, right? I'm a short click away from taking a hammer and smashing out store windows half the time is what I am. I was going to say something about going up into a high tower with a rifle but I'm afraid of guns and get upset if I have to step on a spider - preferring to walk them outside on a piece of paper - so the analogy would have sucked.
It was just very frustrating. I had to sit down for 20 minutes and listen to my breath. I had to take what was happening out of the Very Fucking Important file and put it into the Are You Seriously Kidding Me? file. I had to stop with the anger over something solvable and not that important anyway. It's the stupid, illogical stuff that really riles me. I did ask for clarification at the office about what happened with the "your insurance is golden" part of my day. They admitted to the mistake but - in my opinion - lied about why they made the mistake, alleging that they verified my insurance eligibility but not that the office - you know - accepted the particular insurance plan, nearly prompting me to say something along the lines of: "Fuck you say - you verify eligibility on plans you don't accept?"
They were blissfully unaware of what was going on inside my head with the hammers and guns and everything.
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
Enough With The Bitching
Bitch: To criticize spitefully, often for the sake of complaining rather than in order to have the problem corrected.
And as luck would have it I got to speak to Barcelona K shortly after or before I spoke to Spandex - possibly it was the same day. These two dudes are my favorite Insane Clown Alcoholic Posses. These brothers are very different but they're still both insane. It was a real treat to get them back to back.
The topic he brought up was along the lines of "I don't have enough time to think." As a guy who has plenty of time to think I'm not sure I'm the guy to select as your Go-To Guy on these matters. I'm not sure what matters I'm qualified to speak on and I think I called him anyway, mooting the whole point. I did, however, have a long period of my life where balancing family, work, The Program, physical exercise, etc. was most difficult. I bitched about being too busy all of the time so I can tell people bitching about being too busy that it's enough with the bitching already.
The funny thing today is that I occasionally experience some little angst because I'm not always busy enough. As you might imagine I bitch about it.
It's enough with the bitching already.
And as luck would have it I got to speak to Barcelona K shortly after or before I spoke to Spandex - possibly it was the same day. These two dudes are my favorite Insane Clown Alcoholic Posses. These brothers are very different but they're still both insane. It was a real treat to get them back to back.
The topic he brought up was along the lines of "I don't have enough time to think." As a guy who has plenty of time to think I'm not sure I'm the guy to select as your Go-To Guy on these matters. I'm not sure what matters I'm qualified to speak on and I think I called him anyway, mooting the whole point. I did, however, have a long period of my life where balancing family, work, The Program, physical exercise, etc. was most difficult. I bitched about being too busy all of the time so I can tell people bitching about being too busy that it's enough with the bitching already.
The funny thing today is that I occasionally experience some little angst because I'm not always busy enough. As you might imagine I bitch about it.
It's enough with the bitching already.
Tuesday, April 14, 2015
The Man For The Job
Balance: A state in which opposing forces harmonize.
I caught up with my buddy Spandex a few weeks ago. He's a good friend and a good alcoholic - he rarely has anything going on that he needs to talk about until you ask him if he has anything going on that he needs to talk about and THEN he's got something to talk about. I'm familiar with this mind-warp - people have to pry my shit out of me. A lot of the time I don't realize that I need to talk until I start talking. 10 minutes later I think: "Whew."
It's pretty common for the talker to say something along the lines of: "Aren't you sorry you asked?"
Never. I'm never sorry. I wallow in any opportunity to get my focus off of me, an odious topic and far overdone.
Spandex had a work thing going on. Not a particularly bad one but it was a situation requiring him to promote himself with his supervisor in a matter affecting both him and his colleagues, people who he has to work closely with and who he likes, for the most part. We're good people when we're working The Steps, we drunks - we try to be congenial, to do the right thing, to balance what we want with our fellows may want. We try to balance our wishes and desires with the wishes and desires of others. We want to sleep well at night and we want to get our way, at least some of the time, two outcomes that are often in conflict with each other. In the world - especially the world of business and money and power - it's very possible to get one's ass steamrolled if one exhibits an overabundance of deference.
My friend is afflicted with a great deal of conscience. Most of my good friends are. I like to think that I am as well, from time to time. And most of my good friends are very, very hard on themselves while being simultaneously poor at self-promotion. I think sometimes we have to say: "This is what I want - I think I'M the best person for this." It's surprisingly difficult, especially since we know how painful it can be getting in bed at the end of the day after acting like a shrill harpy. There's that goddam balance thing again.
An unfortunate fact of the world is that many people will take the path of least resistance if it helps them avoid unpleasant conflict - a manager may very well slight the humble employee trying to be a good team player so that he doesn't have to deal with the bitching employee trying to get his or her own way.
Go, Spandex Go!
I caught up with my buddy Spandex a few weeks ago. He's a good friend and a good alcoholic - he rarely has anything going on that he needs to talk about until you ask him if he has anything going on that he needs to talk about and THEN he's got something to talk about. I'm familiar with this mind-warp - people have to pry my shit out of me. A lot of the time I don't realize that I need to talk until I start talking. 10 minutes later I think: "Whew."
It's pretty common for the talker to say something along the lines of: "Aren't you sorry you asked?"
Never. I'm never sorry. I wallow in any opportunity to get my focus off of me, an odious topic and far overdone.
Spandex had a work thing going on. Not a particularly bad one but it was a situation requiring him to promote himself with his supervisor in a matter affecting both him and his colleagues, people who he has to work closely with and who he likes, for the most part. We're good people when we're working The Steps, we drunks - we try to be congenial, to do the right thing, to balance what we want with our fellows may want. We try to balance our wishes and desires with the wishes and desires of others. We want to sleep well at night and we want to get our way, at least some of the time, two outcomes that are often in conflict with each other. In the world - especially the world of business and money and power - it's very possible to get one's ass steamrolled if one exhibits an overabundance of deference.
My friend is afflicted with a great deal of conscience. Most of my good friends are. I like to think that I am as well, from time to time. And most of my good friends are very, very hard on themselves while being simultaneously poor at self-promotion. I think sometimes we have to say: "This is what I want - I think I'M the best person for this." It's surprisingly difficult, especially since we know how painful it can be getting in bed at the end of the day after acting like a shrill harpy. There's that goddam balance thing again.
An unfortunate fact of the world is that many people will take the path of least resistance if it helps them avoid unpleasant conflict - a manager may very well slight the humble employee trying to be a good team player so that he doesn't have to deal with the bitching employee trying to get his or her own way.
Go, Spandex Go!
Monday, April 13, 2015
Sharp Dressed Man
I'm getting dressed after my morning swim if by "swim" you mean "laboring not to drown for about 3/4s of a mile," chatting with a friend of mine if by "friend" you mean "a guy who actually swims more slowly and ponderously than I do." I pull on my 25 year old dress slacks and my thrift-store suit jacket, don my little pork-pie hat, prompting my buddy to say: "Looking sharp today, Seaweed, looking sharp."
I stand a little taller, smile a little brighter, and make my Grand Exit from the club, a trek that takes me from the rear of the building, past all of the weight machines and exercise classes lining the hall. Looking good, feeling natty.
I toss my swim bag into the trunk and casually note that my fly is extraordinarily open. It was kind of the cherry on top of my outfit.
I stand a little taller, smile a little brighter, and make my Grand Exit from the club, a trek that takes me from the rear of the building, past all of the weight machines and exercise classes lining the hall. Looking good, feeling natty.
I toss my swim bag into the trunk and casually note that my fly is extraordinarily open. It was kind of the cherry on top of my outfit.
Friday, April 3, 2015
King Lear
Sociopath: A personality marked by antisocial behavior and a pervasive pattern of disregard and violation of the rights of other.
I'm not a guy who remembers his dreams very often. I sleep pretty deeply - I'm not sure if this is because I have a clean conscience or that I'm sleeping the sleep of the damned. I've heard sociopaths sleep well. I'm not going to SuperK for clarification on this one, that's for sure.
When I do remember my dreams they are hilariously literal, the theme usually being I'm not prepared for something important, often school related. I haven't been in school for 40 years but I'm still showing up for class, for a test, totally unprepared. SuperK scoffs: her dreams are involved and muli-layered and complex.
Last night I was hanging around the outskirts of a small open-air theater where Shakespeare's "King Lear" was being performed to a sparse, desultory crowd of people sitting on metal folding chairs. I was worried because I was the actor playing King Lear himself in the upcoming matinee and evening performance. I had, naturally, not studied a bit. I was agonizing on whether I should just get on stage and wing it (I imagined teleprompters or something electronic helping me out) or come clean to the individuals responsible for putting on the play, one of them clearly an old high school teacher.
I like the fact that I'm the LEAD in a SHAKESPEARE play - maybe as difficult a playwright as there is - in KING LEAR - maybe as complicated a play as he has written. No ego issues there.
THERE'S a situation that I'm not controlling.
I'm not a guy who remembers his dreams very often. I sleep pretty deeply - I'm not sure if this is because I have a clean conscience or that I'm sleeping the sleep of the damned. I've heard sociopaths sleep well. I'm not going to SuperK for clarification on this one, that's for sure.
When I do remember my dreams they are hilariously literal, the theme usually being I'm not prepared for something important, often school related. I haven't been in school for 40 years but I'm still showing up for class, for a test, totally unprepared. SuperK scoffs: her dreams are involved and muli-layered and complex.
Last night I was hanging around the outskirts of a small open-air theater where Shakespeare's "King Lear" was being performed to a sparse, desultory crowd of people sitting on metal folding chairs. I was worried because I was the actor playing King Lear himself in the upcoming matinee and evening performance. I had, naturally, not studied a bit. I was agonizing on whether I should just get on stage and wing it (I imagined teleprompters or something electronic helping me out) or come clean to the individuals responsible for putting on the play, one of them clearly an old high school teacher.
I like the fact that I'm the LEAD in a SHAKESPEARE play - maybe as difficult a playwright as there is - in KING LEAR - maybe as complicated a play as he has written. No ego issues there.
THERE'S a situation that I'm not controlling.
Wednesday, April 1, 2015
I'm Not Kidding!!!
And then to continue beating a very dead horse I'm continually amazed at how my lack of power over my powerlessness leads me back into the rat trap of believing that other people want me to tell them what to do. NOBODY wants me to tell them want to do, even on the exceedingly rare occasions when someone actually asks for my advice. When people ask for my advice they're lying - they're actually asking me to validate their behavior so that they can do what they've already planned to do.
And why do I think that I know what's best for anyone else? I can't find my car keys most of the time. I'm going to tell you what to do? I'm going to make better decisions for you than you can make for yourself with favorable outcomes for everyone concerned? I'm not making this stuff up - I really think this way. It takes a conscious decision on my part not to go there. My immediate reaction is to really believe that I can direct the life of another individual.
Does anyone know where my car keys are?
I know all of this not because I'm wise or smart or experienced or insightful but because I have no interest whatsoever in the advice of anyone else! But I think everyone else wants me to give them advice on how to run their lives!!
I'm not kidding!!!
And why do I think that I know what's best for anyone else? I can't find my car keys most of the time. I'm going to tell you what to do? I'm going to make better decisions for you than you can make for yourself with favorable outcomes for everyone concerned? I'm not making this stuff up - I really think this way. It takes a conscious decision on my part not to go there. My immediate reaction is to really believe that I can direct the life of another individual.
Does anyone know where my car keys are?
I know all of this not because I'm wise or smart or experienced or insightful but because I have no interest whatsoever in the advice of anyone else! But I think everyone else wants me to give them advice on how to run their lives!!
I'm not kidding!!!
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