President Seaweed

I had a nice talk on the phone a couple of days ago with Spandex.  I think the general tenor of the conversation was along the lines of "Really?  This is what my life is like?"  This is actually a pretty common theme for us.  I don't want to suggest that either of us is unhappy or discontented for this is far from the truth.  Rather, I think, we fantasize from time to time about what it would all be like if our life was a blank canvas upon which we could paint the exact picture we want.  I think there would be a lot of free time and Ferraris and shit like that showing up.

I get this newsletter from my old high school.  In the last issue I saw that the guy who finished exactly one spot ahead of me in our senior class rankings is now the president of a major university.  This guy was a seriously smart dude.  I don't think I'm an idiot or anything but I attained my class rank by just basically outworking most people.  I was never destined to be the president of anything.

So I got up this morning and went to the Malcontent's meeting, which was excellent.  We read from our main text and had a good discussion.  I've got a lot of seriously good friends there that it was seriously good to see.  Then I had breakfast and drove inland about 15 miles and took an excellent, seriously good 4 hour hike.  We've had a lot of rain here in semi-arid Vacation City so the terrain - all uphill, for the excellent work-out - was surprisingly green.  I was by myself, thinking good thoughts, listening to the crunch of my hiking boats on the rocky trail, watching wisps of fog blow in and out, shrouding the peaks of the low mountain range that I was tromping right on up.  Coffee in the sun afterwards.  A good book and a good newspaper on the porch when I got home.  A quiet dinner, home-cooked in all aspects.

Hard to beat that. 

Even Steven

I was able to pick a tangerine from the tree in my neighbor's yard and eat it as part of my breakfast today.  And I have been pre-authorized to do this - by the neighbor - who owns the tree, relieving me of the burden of sneaking over and stealing a tangerine, unauthorized.  Cannot TELL you how cool this is.

So . . . because I recently shared, by popular demand, a pool etiquette story I'm going to revive more tall tales, of misery and woe and total unfairness, about the run-flat tires on my Very Expensive Car, even though this car is 7 years old and not that expensive any more.  The manufacturer of this car installs run-flat tires in the interest of weight management and distribution - according to their Very Slick Website - although I suspect that the real reason is that they get to charge the same amount of money for the automobile even though they don't provide a spare tire, jack, and the like, probably all for the good in my case.  I just can't see myself squatting on the verge of a busy CA highway fucking around with a flimsy jack that is tenuously supporting a car that has to weigh two tons, while my arms are under said car.  It would be easier for me if I just asked SuperK to whack me on the hands with a jack - or other iron rod, since I don't actually have a jack - than to wait for the car to fall on me in an inconvenient location.

Anyway, a small light was activated on the dash of my car alerting me to a low tire.  I squirted some air into the tire and the light went out temporarily.  It's back on.  I have an appointment to have the tire inspected where I'm sure some guy is going to tell me that this almost brand new tire is no good and could I please shell out $400 for another one?  Another feature of tires such as these is that they can't be repaired.  I have been briefly annoyed by this.  I guess my growth is that I spend less and less time worrying about things in the future that involve money that I can actually afford.

Here's the funny thing: the very next day I got a note from my father informing me that I'm going to get a small sum of money from an investment that my dear, departed mother had instructed be divvied up between dad, my sister, and me.  While I realize that life isn't set up to work like this routinely I'm also amazed at how often shit like this happens.  And I'm totally projecting the outcome of the tire escapade and I'm totally projecting a bad outcome even though that is not routinely the case.

Even Steven.

An Ancient Riff

One of the most ancient riffs in my sober life is my belief that I am who I am.  I like to think that I continue to examine myself and to work on the areas of my life that I feel are less than compelling.  I never want to get complacent, to think that I'm all done, all finished, all that.  I do believe that I'm not in a place where I'm making sea changes in my being - it's more like I'm working on sanding down rough edges and craggy corners.  I guess I don't want to spend a lot of time working on unworkable gears.  I try to behave well and to be consistent in my actions - I don't see that there are too many instances where my friends and comrades can say: "Wow.  I didn't see that coming."  Rather, I want people to nod their lovely heads and say: "Yeah, that sounds like Seaweed."  It may be to your liking and it may not.  So be it.

I say this because it's a great reminder for me to let others live their lives as they see fit.  Nobody but nobody needs me to tell them how to live.  Obviously I wasn't a big success before The Program and I'm not always tearing it up in my sobriety.  I know many, many people in recovery who are not going to change a lot.  They are who they are.  I can draw near or I can draw away but I can't live someone else's life for them.  It helps me to see this - it helps me to accept people for who they are.  It's no good to focus on behavior that I don't care for and to ignore behavior that is really quite nice.

Splenetic

Spleen:  A ductless vascular gland which destroys old red blood cells, removes debris from the bloodstream, acts as a reservoir of blood, and produces lymphocytes.  (Ed. Note: Why in the world did this perfectly respectful sounding gland acquire the reputation of being a source of spitefulness?  Hardly seems fair, does it, o noble spleen?)

Since I'm in a big theme Repeat-a-thon I'll mention that I've had some recurring, renewing, reviving thoughts about being responsible for my own happiness.  If I'm not happy that is . . . on . . . me.  If I'm angry or upset that is . . . on . . . me, despite the fact that I so dearly love to blame other people, places, and things for any negative feelings I have.   It is so tempting to look outside of myself for a reason for my unhappiness and it's especially tempting when I truly perceive some person, place, or thing to be at fault or somehow lacking.  The world is a flawed place and people are flawed beings so I can always find something upon which I can vent my considerable spleen.

Crazy For You

There was a section of the book that described the frustration a member experienced trying to deal with a neighbor (or could we say friend, colleague, or fellow group member?) who was highly emotional and afflicted with many problems.  The guy spent a lot of time talking about how crazy she was.

I get crazy.  I'm crazy.  If I don't like how you're behaving I assume you're crazy.  I also know how to create drama and use other very effective techniques for drawing attention to myself such as acting crazy.  I feed off of the attention and I drink deeply from the trough of chaos - I know it isn't good for me or anyone else but I take a perverse pleasure in the outcome.  And I'm of the opinion that if you want someone who is acting crazy to stop acting crazily that the least effective technique is to accuse them of being crazy.  It's very difficult to reason with someone like that - it's like trying to rationalize with a small child or a large, practicing alcoholic.  Did you see the light of reason and immediately change your behavior when someone made a pretty compelling argument that your alcoholic behavior was making things worst?  Yeah, me, either.

"I mentioned that the more insane he described the neighbor, the more insane it seemed to fight with her.  Obviously the woman is more experienced at fighting than my friend will ever be.  I suggested that, instead of fighting, my friend might withdraw, stay away; even try, in so far as possible, to be courteous and understanding."

"We have ceased fighting anything and anybody."

Self-Righteous-Osity

Self-righteous:  Piously self-assured and smugly moralistic.

My men's meeting is deep in the bowels of a book written by a pretty famous member of The Fellowship - not conference-approved so inappropriate for an official meeting but fine for our book study group.  There's a lot of good writing out there above and beyond the stuff our central office has vetted.  There's a lot of crap, too, he muses self-righteously.

So continuing on my self-righteous thread about self-righteousness I was confronted by this paragraph in the book last night.  I find that when I put myself in a position to be helped that help cometh, and it cometh briskly.

"Nothing is more useless than trying to change someone who thinks they are never wrong. Change for them is too frightening.  The only answer I know is to accept the fact that they are the way they are and will never change.  Then either leave and be happy, or stay and be happy. But don't stay and complain, or leave and complain.  It's a wast of time and energy.  You'll only hurt yourself."

SuperK is of the opinion that I never admit to being wrong.  To which I reply: "If I'm ever wrong I'll be the first to admit it."  She doesn't think this is very funny.

Come to think of it she says that I never say I'm sorry.  My answer to this, as I recall - also not very funny - is along the lines of: "If I ever make a mistake I'll apologize immediately."

You can see why I'm continuously in hot water.  You can see why I try not to talk.

Opinion V Fact

Opinion:  A belief that a person has formed about a topic or an issue; the judgement or sentiment which the mind forms of persons or things.

Four days hiking in the desert . . .   

I still give the jungle props for being the most competitive environment for plant life on this planet.  It is plant versus plant there and you better be tough or you're going to be subsumed. But the desert is no slouch, either, except that it's more of a plant versus the elements thing there. You better be good at capturing water and nutrients or you're going down.  Every single plant was equipped with what could only be described as large, stainless steel surgical needles except for the ones that had billions of tiny, titanium surgical needles.  I didn't touch nothing out there.  And it was hot and dry - I really respected the elements.  I didn't take anything lightly.

As I hiked I mused.  I spent some time thinking about the difference between personal responsibility and group support.  My experience in recovery has shown me that there is a tension most of the time between the two extremes of any spectrum.  Does everything boil down to personal responsibility?  You better believe it.  Most of us figure out right quick that we have to quit pointing fingers at other people, places, and things as the cause of our problems.  OK, so it's all up to me then?  I don't think so.  The first word of the first step is "We" which indicates to me that if I try to do this by myself then it's going to be a long slog.  I need the help and advice and suggestions that come to me from all kinds of different people, some of whom I dislike or disagree with vehemently.

I've learned in my life that if I set up shop at one end or the other of anything then I'm missing a big part of the puzzle.  The Program has taught me to open up my eyes and try to see the value in everything, not just in the principles that I'm convinced are some kind of inalienable right.  I'm grateful that this tendency has slopped over into a many other facets of my life - politics, religion, social values, morality, and on and on.  I don't mean to say that I lose my core beliefs, rather that I don't go bat-shit crazy when I hear something that I don't agree with.  So many things are opinions, not facts.