Taking It...

Picking up my computer on the way home tonight, and spending the bulk of my night setting it up again.  I'm so happy I could shit my pants!

The yang to that happy yin seems to be my SMART meeting last night.  Every time I do my "check-in" lately (what they call taking your turn to speak) I just end up feeling embarrassed, and like I made an ass of myself.  And worse, I can't tell if I really did make an ass out of myself, or if I'm just being self-conscious.  Either way, the net result is that I end up feeling like I really don't want to go to these meetings anymore.  But I don't feel like I can stop, either.

I'm really not enjoying the experience; but, then again, is this an experience that you're really supposed to enjoy?  It's about learning and getting healthy, not having fun.  And I'd really like my Tuesday nights back (I could be volunteering at the planetarium if I didn't have to do this instead, which I'd much rather do), but inconvenience hardly seems like a good excuse to stop going.  You know what's really inconvenient?  A drug habit.

And I don't know if these meetings are doing me any good.  And that's the main reason why I still feel like I have to go:  I don't know if these meetings are doing me any good or not.  If I knew for a reasonable certainty that these meetings were not helping me much, then I would feel perfectly fine with deciding to stop going.  But if I stop now, without having answered that question, then I'm just quitting; I'm just giving up.  And as much as I'm not enjoying this, and as much as I don't seem to be getting much out of it beyond embarrassment, I'd be really upset with myself if I just gave up.

I keep coming back to this lesson again and again all over my life.  I think it's one of the big things I'm trying to tackle through this process.  It's not simply about not drinking and not getting high for the next year.  What I'm really trying to do, is learn how to take it.  When my life sucks, and I'm stuck doing things that I don't want to do, and I'm unhappy with the way things are going, and there's nothing I can do to change it, then just shut the fuck up and take it.  You can't be happy all the time.  Sometimes you have to do things that you don't want to do and that make you unhappy.  And when you ease those pains with chemicals, that makes you weak.  And you come to rely on those chemicals, because you're not strong enough to simply put up with those feelings of stress and depression and unhappiness on your own.

So, I'm learning endurance here.  I'm working out my "acceptance muscle," and it's getting stronger.  I'm a lot stronger than I used to be, because I never bothered to work it out at all before.  Whenever I had to use that muscle, and whenever it got sore, I'd soothe it with the painkillers of booze, and pot - and sometimes even actual painkillers.  But now I'm using it, and working it out, and getting stronger, and learning to accept that sometimes I have to just shut the fuck up, and take it, and do what I have to do, instead of what I want to do.

Like going to these stupid fucking meetings.

And Ye Shall Receive...

I'd say this is eerie by most people's standards.  But the life of a chaos magickian is a life of eerie coincidences.

Just received a voicemail informing me that my computer is ready to be picked up.

About a week early.

And not a moment too soon.

Return Of Blurble...

I WANT MY GODDAMN COMPUTER BACK!

There, I said it.  Apologies for the caps lock.

I really need to write again.  I'm feeling like such a useless slug.  I can feel myself getting more and more stressed out every day without it.  I even miss the pressure of feeling that I need to get something posted every day.  That pressure is nothing compared to the stress of not having the time or the means to write.

I'm going to be in a cabin in the woods on the side of a mountain this weekend, and all I can think is, Goddammit, that would be such a perfect place to get some great writing done!  But I won't be able to, because I need a computer for that.  (I can't write by hand; my hand moves way too slow for my brain.)

I'm having no luck finding the brightside to this.  It just feels wrong.  It feels fucking unhealthy.

I just want my computer back.

Requiem For A Snowflake...

Dear mother, Dear father
What is this hell
you have put me through?
Believer, deceiver
Day in, day out
Lived my life through you
Pushed onto me
what's wrong or right
Hidden from this thing
that they call life

Dear mother, Dear father
Every thought
I'd think you'd disapprove
Curator, dictator
Always censoring
my every move
Children are seen
but are not heard
Tear out everything inspired

Innocence
torn from me
without your shelter
Barred reality
I'm living blindly

Dear mother, Dear father
Time has frozen still
What's left of me?
Hear nothing, say nothing
Cannot face the fact
I think for me
No guarantee
it's life as-is
But damn you
for not giving me my chance

Dear mother, Dear father
Clipped my wings
before I learned to fly
Unspoiled, unspoken
I've outgrown
that fucking lullaby
Same thing
I've always heard from you
do as I say
not as I do

I'm in hell without you
Cannot cope without you two
Shocked at the world that I see
Innocent victim
Please rescue me

Dear mother, Dear father
Hidden in your world
you've made for me
I'm seething
I'm bleeding
Ripping wounds in me
that never heal
Undying spite
I feel for you
Living out this hell
you always knew...

NO!

                    -"Dyer's Eve"
                      Metallica

Kickball - Week 8...

Half our team didn't even show up this week.  (And, honestly, I can't blame them.  We're the worst team in the league, by far.  Every other team has beat us, some of them twice.  We're the only team out there every week that doesn't at least have a shot at winning.)  If one more player hadn't shown up, we wouldn't have had enough to officially play, and would've had to forfeit.  And the other team (2nd best in the league) had a full roster.

As you can imagine, we never had a chance.

POSITION:

          -the upside of having so few players show up was that I got to do more this game
          -I covered center field and 2nd base, so I got to move around a lot more
          -still never saw any action, though - everyone kicked right or left, and there was never a play at
           2nd base

AT THE PLATE:

          -again, because of the light roster, I got to do more at the plate - I kicked an unprecedented
           four times this game
          -three of them were easy pop-outs, and one was a walk - at least I got on base this time
          -for those keeping score (me), that's 8 easy pop-outs out of my last 9 kicks - I do alright in
           practice, but then I can't seem to repeat the same thing in the game, and I don't know why -
           I'm not nervous at all up there, honestly, so it's not like I'm choking - I don't get it!

FINAL:

          -I stopped counting when they hit double-digits

INJURIES:

          -actually managed to get in a workout this time, with all the running around and extra kicking
           and stuff
          -but I'm getting used to it, so no injuries or anything - wasn't even sore afterwards
          -oh, wait! - I did manage to somehow pull an ab muscle trying to catch a pop-fly in practice -
           no idea how that works

Vow...

I Love you.
More than I ever thought I could Love anything.
I will never stop Loving you.
I COULD never stop Loving you.
And, as sure as I am that the Sun does not shine on my world
without your permission,
I am sure that I want you
to be the last thing I ever see.
I want your voice to be the last thing I ever hear,
and I want your hand holding mine
to be the last thing I ever feel.

And if you would consent to hold me,
even only as my last breath whispered from me,
then I will vow to protect you
from anything and everything that threatens or disturbs you;
to worship you
as if you were the god who gave me life, breath, and soul;
to adore you
as the most beautiful,
the most sexy,
the most compassionate,
the most Loving,
the most brilliant,
and the most magnificent woman that the Gods have ever seen fit
to grace our world with.
And I will vow to Love you
more than any person before or after us
has ever been able to do.

You are Light,
Life,
and Love to me,
and you ALWAYS will be.

+   +   +

I confess, as the years have passed, I haven't done a very good job of living up to this oath.

You should hold me to it.

Please hold me to it.

This is who I want to be.

This is who I thought I was.

Help make me this man.

Let me be him, again, for you.

One Hundred...

I've got a ton of work to do, and I'm already ridiculously behind, and I have to leave early today to get to my counseling appointment and then rush home for a condo board meeting and it's not like I have a computer at home to post from right now anyways, so this is my 100th post since I started this blog, and I have absolutely nothing worthwhile to post about, nor any time in which to do it.

Fabulous.

Son of Blurble...

I miss my computer.

Workout is going well.  Weight is coming off at a good clip.  My stomach is flatter, and my pants fit better (my tight pants feel normal, and what used to be my good-fitting pants are starting to feel baggy).  I'm pleasantly sore all the freakin' time.

Really not happy right now, though.  I miss my computer (as I said), I miss writing, I miss meditating, I miss having free time, I hate kickball... .  And I just generally miss being happy and feeling that I like my life.  I miss Her, and realize now that I basically always have, even though she's right there, standing right next to me.  How could two people who are so close end up so far apart?

SMART meeting tonight.  No idea what to talk about it.  Really don't want to go, but feel like I should.

Guess that's about it for now.

Apologies for the boring and the whiny.

Nihil...

I have nothing to say.

Kickball - Week 7...

Another hard fought game (by the rest of the team, at least - I didn't do a damn thing), and another heartbreaking loss by one run in the last inning.

Why do I keep doing this??  I don't want to do this anymore, I'm not having any fun, I'm exhausted, gods know I add no value or worth to my team whatsoever, and I'm not even getting any exercise.  So why do I keep doing this to myself?

I guess because I don't want to quit more than I don't want to play kickball anymore.  I guess because I at least want the satisfaction of completing the season, seeing as it is likely the only satisfaction I'm going to get out of the experience.

POSITION:

          -he had me in Left field for odd innings - even innings, the old guy took the spot
          -some of the girls (not all of them) also had to split innings this way - so I'm grouped with the
           girls and the old guy - Awesome.
          -no balls came anywhere near Left field the whole game

AT THE PLATE:

          -both my kicks were easy outs - I never even made it to 1st base - and both my outs were the
           third out to end the inning
          -my first kick I managed to somehow bunt the ball directly behind me and straight into the
           arms of the catcher, for the shortest pop-fly out in kickball history - I was right there, saw it
           with my own eyes, and still do not understand how it happened - it seemed to defy all known
           physics - unless the ball was made of iron and the catcher's hands were actually magnets -
           another classic "this could only happen to me" moment
          -although, I did feel slightly vindicated when one of our best kickers managed to kick the ball
           into their own face this game

FINAL:

          -who gives a fuck

INJURIES:

          -didn't hurt myself, because I didn't do a goddamned thing the whole game
          -half the innings I sat on the bench watching the game, the other innings I stood in the field
           watching the game - and I never ran more than ten feet from home plate either time I kicked
          -big fucking woo

Bride of Blurble...

Finally caught up on all my work, email, etc. that's piled up during the past few days of PC Swap Madness.  Feels good to be done with that.  Not only because I don't have to deal with it anymore, but the feeling of accomplishment is quite pleasant, as well.

I'm really tired, though.  Been extra busy and out late pretty much every night, plus I've been pushing myself at the gym extra hard this week (might've picked the wrong week to start back in on the weights - ouch).  I've been getting to bed early to try and make up for it, but it hasn't been enough; I'm still utterly exhausted every morning.

I really, really do not want to go play kickball right now.  I do not have the energy, and after last game, it's lost any sense of fun or enjoyment it might've once held for me.  Half-an-hour ago, the sky was black with clouds, and the wind was whipping the trees back and forth.  Seemed certain that we were about to get hit with a major thunderstorm.  Thought my prayers had been answered.  Now the sky is clear and blue, the wind has died down, and there is no sign at all of that huge thunderstorm anywhere.

What the hell?!

I'm disappointed in you, Thor.


Ugh.  Guess it's time to go suit up and humiliate myself for the evening.  Oh, joy.  Will me luck.

(Some skill wouldn't hurt, either.)

(Why couldn't we have had a softball team??  I can play softball!  I can catch softballs, I can throw softballs, I can even fucking hit softballs!  But, no, we had to play with a giant, red, bouncy ball, just so that I can go out there every Thursday night and feel like an eight year-old girl.  Awesome.)

(And by "awesome," I mean, "completely fucking weak.")

(Ugh.)

Quickly Noted...

I really like Windows 7 so far.

And I hate myself a little bit for saying that.


Also, kickball tomorrow.  "Gird your loins, ladies!"

Chutes and Ladders...

Just a brief synopsis of my day...

In preparation for the upgrade of my work PC (currently my only working computer, since my laptop is in the shop being repaired) from Windows XP to Windows 7 tomorrow, I had a bunch of files to backup, and one program (Quicken) to upgrade, since the version of Quicken that I've been using to manage my personal finances for the last ten years is not compatible with Win7.

I'd already bought the latest version of Quicken, so the upgrade installation should only take about an hour.  Decided to do that first, only to discover that the CD-ROM drive on my PC is apparently broken.  Luckily managed to scrounge a portable CD-ROM from the Help Desk that plugs in on a USB.  After running for a half-hour, the installation program suddenly shuts down with an error message.  Had to restart my computer and do it again; another half an hour, but this time it works.  But when I start up the new program, it tells me that I can't covert data from my old version (2002) to the new version (2012).  I'll need to download and install an intermediate version (2004), convert my data from 2002 to 2004, then re-install 2012, and then finally convert my data from 2004 to 2012.  Ugh, ok.  Luckily, they offered a free version of 2004 for download.

So, downloaded that, but it took me a half dozen tries to install it.  Kept getting error messages, had to uninstall 2012 first (another half-hour), but it eventually worked, and I managed to convert my data to 2004 format.  Then I spent another half-hour installing 2012, only to have it fail with the same error message again.  Had to restart my machine (all told, had to restart my machine six times - at about ten minutes a piece, that's an hour I spent restarting my machine alone!), and install it again.  Another half-hour, but this time it worked.

But then when I went to run it, it told me that I couldn't use my data because it was for a Deluxe version of Quicken.  (Apparently the "free" version of 2004 that they offered was the Quicken 2004 Deluxe.)  And so, in order to be able to use my data that I had just spent over four hours trying to convert, I would need to upgrade to the Deluxe version of 2012, at a cost of $60.  I'd already spent $30 on the version I'd just spent all day trying to install!  I then spent an hour on the phone with an argumentative gentleman from New Delhi at Quicken Customer Service trying to find a way around this, to no avail.  Ended up having to upgrade to the Deluxe version, even though I didn't want it, just to save my data.  Spent another half an hour installing it and converting my data (FINALLY!).

All told, I ended up spending almost seven hours of my day just trying to install this one fucking program.  In my entire life using computers, I have never had this much difficulty installing a program, ever.  Not even close.

And I couldn't use my computer for anything else the whole time it was installing (so that would be all day), so I still had all the rest of my work to do!  But I was out of time, because I had to rush home to try and see the Transit of Venus.

Venus crosses the face of the Sun (from our point of view on Earth) twice about every hundred years or so.  The last time it happened was in 2004.  The next time it will happen, after today, is 2117.  Literally, a once-in-a-lifetime experience.  And I am lucky to live within walking distance of an elementary school science lab/planetarium that had set up telescopes with special filters to allow the public to view the transit from 6-8p today.

But it was cloudy.  From horizon to horizon, grey fluffballs of clouds covering the entire sky.

Anticipating a long wait, we brought along one of our two folding camp chairs.  Removing it from it's carrying pouch, She discovered a hidden treasure inside.  A sword, with a crystal handle, and a brass hilt.  This sword had been an important magickal item to me for years.  I used it in various Solar rituals.  It had also been one of the treasures offered up in our wedding ceremony.  I had lost it years ago.  So long ago in fact, that it has been years since I even considered it lost; for many years now I have simply assumed that it was gone, and that I would never see it again.

And then, suddenly, as I'm waiting, desperately, for the Sun to appear from behind the curtain of clouds, so that I could watch this once-in-a-lifetime spectacle of our closest neighbor planet floating across its immense, bright face, my long-lost Magickal Sun Sword simply appears out of nowhere.  Almost as if by magick.

Surely, this was a sign that my luck was turning.

And, sure enough, with less than fifteen minutes before the Sun disappeared behind the horizon, there was a sudden break in the clouds!  And She managed to secure us a spot near the front of the line!!  (You have my eternal gratitude for this, Precious. You saved me from disappointment and disaster.)

And so, for about ten seconds, I was able to look through a telescope's eyepiece, and directly into the face of our Star.  And there she was - Venus.  A small, black dot, floating against a backdrop of the enormous, white circle of the Sun.  I saw it with my own eyes.

I will remember those ten seconds for the rest of my life.

And then I got to drive all the way back to my office to finish up the file backup preparations for tomorrow that I hadn't had a chance to do earlier.  And now I'm done, and it's time to go home.  And by the time I get there, it will be past my bedtime.

But I don't even care.

Today was a great day.

Blurberry...

No internet at home for the next few weeks, while the computer's in the shop.  (That's why this is my first post since Friday.)

No time to post at work today, or in the foreseeable future.  Several urgent projects to work on, plus they're swapping out my machine on Wednesday for a new one with a new operating system that I don't know how to use (Windows 7).  So, setting that up is going to take a day or two, at least.

So many things I want to talk about:
          -my horrible weekend trying (and failing) to fix and re-format both of my laptops
          -tomorrow's Transit of Venus (last one until 2117!)
          -my new workout (started back with the weights this morning; "Arms. Like. NOODLES!")


This really fucking sucks.  But I don't think there's anything I can do about it.  So I guess I need to just accept it.  And if I can do that, then the Brightside would be, enjoying the small, measure of relaxation and freedom afforded me by this temporary reprieve from my computer, and the internet, and my writing responsibilities.

"Make the most of it."

Kickball - Week 6...

One of the most humiliating experiences of my adult life.  (And I only say "my adult life," because my childhood was basically just one, long, extended humiliating experience.)

POSITION:

          -played 2nd base in both games, which was certainly an improvement over the outfield

          -still dropped both balls that came near me

          -only other action I saw was one throw to my base, where the shortstop (who is also our
           coach) ran over to try and catch the ball a foot in front of me - guess he didn't have much
           confidence that I'd be able to catch it myself - and who could blame him - oh, and he dropped
           the ball

AT THE PLATE:

          -got two base-hits out of five at-bats - hardly a stellar record - never got farther than 2nd base

FINAL:

          -we lost both games

          -we lost the first game by double-digits - worst score of the season so far for us - it was just
           one error after another - two of our best players didn't even show up until halfway through the
           first inning - at one point, someone on the other team actually scored an inside-the-park
           home run (that's a new one!) because we kept making error after error trying to get him out - I
           was just glad when that one was over

          -second game we played against the team we tied last time - we played this game hard - we
           played our asses off - we played with heart - we were already exhausted, but we really
           wanted this win - we kept the score really tight the whole game, made only a couple of errors,
           and had a good shot to win - in the bottom of the last inning, down by one run, I basically lost
           the game for our team - yeah, that feels good

INJURIES:

          -feel like I drove my left hip up into my fucking shoulder

          -my shins feel like Freddy Krueger is using them to play a fucking harp solo

          -I hurt real bad

Blurble...

Just a quick update while I scarf my breakfast.

Wireless card is definitely dead, so this weekend I'm going to back it up and take it someplace to get fixed.  In the meantime, I'm going to try to get my backup laptop up-and-running so that I can get back on the internet.  (Yes, I have a backup portable computer.  Doesn't everyone?)  But that will require a complete reformatting, so I might not be able to get that done this weekend.  But, I need the internet to play Mass Effect, and I am seriously jonesing for some Mass Effect right now, so hopefully that will be a good motivator for me.  Will me luck.

(And I just have to add a quick note here.  I'm really surprised that I'm not more upset about this than I am.  My computer breaking, again [I've never had a computer break as many times as this one has - it's absurd at this point], just as we finally get the internet fixed, which is something we've been struggling with for over 5 years now, is exactly the kind of thing that would've sent me off the fucking rails at any other time in my life.  And I honestly can't explain why I'm so calm about it now.  Just more even-keeled in general, I guess?  I don't know.  If I knew how I did it, I might even be proud of myself for it.)

Got a lot of work to do today, and I'm hoping I can get a large chunk of it taken care of and off my desk.  Then we've got our double-header for the season in Kickball tonight, so that ought to be interesting.  Being a double-header, that's going to mean twice the amount to write-up, so I might not be able to get that posted tomorrow like I normally would.  Especially if I'm in the hospital.

My scale hasn't been indicating much weight-loss since I started working out (maybe 2 pounds), but my eyes are telling me a different story.  My stomach is clearly much smaller than it was in April, or even at the beginning of March.  My pants fit better, and my belt is easier to fasten.  And when I look down, I can see my dick, without even sucking in my gut.

I call that progress.

S.M.A.R.T., Take 3...

Last night felt like a decent meeting.  Finally.

There was a lot of discussion, people seemed more engaged, there was a lot more discussion of actual issues surrounding our compulsive behavior, and the chit-chat about everyday bullshit was generally short and quick.  There was also a lot more laughter and smiles this time around, which I think makes a difference.

I felt a lot more comfortable this time around.  Just getting some basic familiarity with everyone, I guess.  Felt a lot less like "the new guy."  I felt comfortable offering input on other people's stories, and when I did they seemed to find it helpful and it usually sparked further discussion in the group.  I did my own "sharing" mid-way through the meeting this time around, rather than at the end, and that worked out much better for me.  I had gone in there with every intention of updating them on my resolution to the question that I'd been struggling with and that I discussed last time, but I actually ended up giving them a bit of a synopsis of where I'm at right now and what I'm working on and what my goals are.  Not sure why.  Just felt more natural, I guess.  Went with the flow.

Talked about my mother and her mother.  Talked about how I self-identified as an addict since before I ever actually used or drank anything, and that I've basically been using for my entire career as though I were also in recovery; using what I learned from my mother as a child to maximize the pleasure while minimizing the risk.  Explained that I'm just kind of tired of it at this point, and so I've committed to at least a year completely sober from anything, which will be the first year of my adult life spent that way.  And that generally I'm not struggling with my addiction in any way on a day-to-day basis - that I feel like I have a good bit of experience here, and how this all feels very comfortable and familiar - but that every once in a while, it'll suddenly sneak up out of nowhere, and I won't know what to do.  Told a condensed version of the story of my relapse from a few weeks ago.  I got a lot of positive comments, including "Wow, good share!"  And I got a lot of laughs.

(Why is that so important to me?  I guess I feel like, if I have to essentially give a performance to a group of people - a captive group, at that - then I feel I should at least be entertaining.  If I have to tell a story, then the people who hear it should at least enjoy the experience on some level.  I strive to be entertaining here, too, as much as possible without compromising the message.  So, I guess I shouldn't be surprised to discover that I do the same thing in the group.)

I realized a few new things about the whiny woman who has apparently decided to become co-facilitator.  I realized that it's not just that she's whiny, but that she rambles.  She never seems to get to her point, and you're never actually sure what her point really is, anyways.  She just rambles on and on in this stuttering, monotonous way, that makes it really difficult to pay attention to what she's saying.  Whenever she finishes, I'm always left feeling sort of, Huh?  What were you trying to say?  What was the point of all that?  So, of all the people I've met there so far, she is absolutely the worst at actually communicating her point to other people.  That doesn't seem like a quality you'd want in a facilitator.

And she always has her two-cents to stick in.  Which I guess is why the facilitator thinks she'd be good at the job.  And I know we're supposed to respond to each other and discuss things and try and help out (SMART actually encourages "cross-talk," whereas most groups forbid it), but whenever she responds to somebody's story with her two-cents, it's always about her.  It seems like she always begins with something like, "Well, that reminds me of this thing that happened to me the other day..." and then suddenly we're all listening to her story again, instead of the person who was supposed to have the floor.  It just seems so rude.  I imagine she must believe she's trying to help, but it's hard for me to see how she's actually helping anyone.

Also, now that I've heard everyone share their stories a few times, it's becoming fairly obvious that of all the people in the group, she is the one who least has her shit together.  She is clearly the biggest mess in the entire group.  I would go so far as to call her a hot mess, in fact.  And she's apparently been coming to this group for years.  If, even after all of these years, she is still struggling to this degree with the most basic aspects of recovery, then, again, I have to ask, how is this woman in any way qualified to function as a group facilitator?  She seems like the absolute worst choice for facilitator out of the entire group!  Ugh.

Hopefully I'll be done with all of this by the time she starts taking over.  Or that she'll prove me wrong and turn out to be a wonderful facilitator.  (Stranger things have happened.)

Despite all of that, the meeting was more of a positive experience than a negative one, and much more so than the previous weeks.  For the first time, I find that I'm looking forward to the next one.


The last of the "ironic" bumper stickers from the back wall of the room:

"I've Fallen and I Can't Reach My Beer"

"Rehab Is For Quitters"

"The Only Urine Sample You'll Get From Me

Is A Taste Test"

Interrupt...

I might be missing a lot of posts here for a while.

I'm fairly certain the wireless card on my laptop is dying, if not already dead.  I've had a suspicion for the last week, but I couldn't tell for sure if it was my machine, or my wireless range extender, or the actual network I connect to.  But She's telling me that now the laptop is saying that there are no wireless networks detected.

There are always at least a dozen or more wireless networks detected within range of our home.  Hell, the range extender is in our kitchen, for fuck's sake.  So, if the laptop is saying that it can't find any networks at all, then it's pretty clear that the laptop isn't working.

It's going to take time and money that I don't have to get that fixed.  So, who knows when that's going to happen.  And, in the meantime, we will have no internet at home.  Again.  (We just got our wireless network working with a fair degree of connectivity within the last month, after working on it for over 3 years.  And as soon as the network is finally reliable, the computer dies.  I just can't win with this thing.  I feel like I've been struggling to achieve a consistent, reliable internet connection for my entire adult life now, since I got my first 28.8 baud modem at eighteen.)

I really do not have time to be posting from work right now.  I have a huge project that should be taking up all of my time.  I can take ten minutes at lunch to throw something up real quick, but not take the time and focus necessary to post something meaningful and well-written.  So that means, in order to post anything beyond a quick blurb, I'm going to need to either neglect my work, or, more likely, stay late at the office.  Neither of which I'm very excited about.

So, just wanted to let you all know.  We'll see what happens.

I have another SMART meeting tonight.  Wish me luck.  Hopefully, I'll find the time to write up something about it tomorrow.

Three Day Weekend...

I'm taking today off to meditate and play Mass Effect and just generally relax and do nothing but enjoy myself.

Happy Memorial Day, everyone.  I hope your weekend was as enjoyable as mine turned out to be.

In Toto Memorium...

There's a War Memorial in the middle of my town.

It's a park, actually.  It's filled with dozens of memorials, each one for a different conflict.  Apparently, it's the only park in Maryland that commemorates soldiers from every American war; from the French and Indian War, all the way to the first Gulf War.  There's even a monument dedicated to the residents of Frederick County that lost their lives fighting the Barbary Pirates.

Apparently, there are also some soldiers buried under that park.  Which I guess is fitting, considering its purpose.

I first discovered the park a few years ago, on another Walpurgisnacht, while drifting through town in the middle of the night, in my usual state of psychedelic illumination.  It was knowledge of the bodies buried there that actually drew me to investigate it; tickling my sense of ghoulish voyeurism.  But I ended up having an entirely different experience.

I imagine most people have been to war memorials at one time or another.  Living in the D.C. area, it's an especially common occurrence; I'd lost track of the number of memorials I'd been to before I'd even made it to high school.  After a while, they just start to blend into one another, and it's easy to become desensitized to their meaning.  But, usually, those are memorials dedicated to one, single, specific war or conflict.  I found that the effect of a memorial dedicated to All American War to be powerful in the extreme, even to someone as jaded as I sometimes pretend to be.

The first effect I noticed is that there are simply so many monuments in this park.  And when you realize that each one is dedicated to a different war, then you begin to get a sense of the scope of just how much of our history we have spent trying to kill other people before they could kill us.  And you can't help but start to ask yourself, Have we ever been at peace?  Is peace even a realistic possibility?  Or is it just an idealistic fantasy we tell ourselves to soothe our sense of fear and alienation in the face of a violent, hostile, uncaring world; just like "God" and "Heaven"?  (How ironic that those two concepts in particular, so often the direct cause of so many wars, are actually responsible for all wars, in a way.  Would it be so easy for us to kill one another so often, and in such numbers, and for such ridiculous reasons, if so many of us didn't believe with such absolute certainty that they wouldn't really be ending forever, but simply traveling to "a better place?"  I would wager that Life means more to the atheist, who understands its true finality.)

But then I began to wander through the monuments, one-by-one, down through the history of our wars.  The Persian Gulf War.  The Vietnam War.  The Korean War.  Each one filled with names chisled in stone.  Names of people who lived here, in my town.  Who wandered these same streets at some point in their youth.  Some who even wandered the same school hallways.  Maybe some who had even lived on my street.  Fools and Heroes, every one.  Strong, and Doomed, and so unbelievably Brave.  Braver than I will ever be.  Braver than I ever could be.  And just boys!  Just boys.  They'd only just started.  They had so much left to do.  Just boys.  How is it possible that this country, of all countries, that coddles and insulates and over-protects its children to such a ridiculous, obsessive degree, could do all of this?  Could still be doing all of this?  It is literally, staggering.

And so many names.  So many names.  The World War II memorial is the largest in the park, by far.  A wall, ten feet high, and fifty feet long.  Entirely filled with names.  Our names.  And I wandered down that memorial, reading those names, trying to take it all in.  It was almost too much.  I could barely comprehend so many people, just from my tiny little town alone(!), all fighting and dying all over the world, not much more than sixty years ago.  How could that possibly have happened?!  And this, the most moral and just of all the wars!  The one where we were most clearly combating an Evil; the greatest Evil the modern world had ever seen.  It was still almost too much to believe.  But I finally got to the end of that immense list, and the end of that long wall... and then I realized - the list of names had stopped at "L."  Oh, no, I thought, it's not possible.  But I rounded the corner of that wall to discover, to my horror, that the entire other side was filled in, as well.

It felt like a lead weight had been inserted into my chest.  It was all I could do to keep myself from breaking down into tears right then and there.  I simply could not comprehend that amount of pain and suffering, on that enormous scale.

But the memorial that affected me most, and that I will always remember, was the memorial to the soldier boys of World War I.

I've always had a bit of a fascination with WWI.  It was, by far, the most gruesome and horrible conflict that humanity has ever seen.  The brutal combination of trench warfare and the advent of modern weaponry - the machine gun, the tank, the flamethrower, the grenade, the fighter plane, chemical warfare, etc., etc. - created an environment that was, quite simply, more akin to a meat grinder than what we think of as "war."  Almost forty MILLION people killed, wounded, or missing-in-action.  By the end of the war, Europe was running out of fighting age men.  So they were drafting men as old as seventy, and boys as young as fourteen.  More meat for the grinder.

At the time, they called it "The Great War."

The memorial dedicated to this human atrocity is obviously the oldest in the park.  It's almost certainly the first one built there.  It was sculpted in the style of classic monuments, with a bronze statue of a doughboy standing atop a large, octagonal concrete base.  Onto each of the eight sides of the base has been affixed a bronze plaque, each about three feet wide by four feet tall; and each plaque is, again, a list of names.  The names are so small that they are impossible to read without climbing up onto the memorial itself.  They had to make them that small in order to fit them all on the monument.  And unlike the other monuments in the park, which list the names of everyone involved in their conflict in any way, the WWI memorial is from an earlier time in America's history - it only lists the names of the boys who never came home.  Boys from my hometown.  Dozens and dozens and dozens of them.  All slaughtered.  Gone now, even from memory.  All that's left of them are names on a plaque, that you can't even read.

As I wandered around the memorial, trying to comprehend the weight of it all, I came upon one plaque that was different from the others.  It had fewer names, and was in a larger font.  I noticed it had a title across the top that was large enough that I could it read it:

"The Negro Men of Frederick County, Who Gave Their Lives In The Great War of 1917"

I've been sitting here for fifteen minutes, trying to come up with my response to that; to sum up how it made me feel then, or how I feel about it now.  I'm sorry, but I can't.  I just don't have the words.  I guess I should try to concentrate on feeling grateful that they were even included in the memorial at all.

I'll leave you with this thought for this Memorial Day.  Sums up my feelings pretty well.

I hope everyone has a wonderful weekend.  And while you're out there, barbequing, and sunbathing, and partying - try to be good to someone.  Just because you can.

And just because, it's something.

Keep Ridin' 'Til The Cycle Is Broke...

Heard this today, and it touched me; deep.  Again.  Had to share.  Hope it touches you, too.
(Suggestion:  read it aloud.)


                                 Million dollar baby girl in the lower middle class
                                 With a maglight right beneath her pillow
                                 And though she's never been a boxer by choice
                                 She's known to act oak [OK], you'll never catch her a willow
                                 Nuh-uh
                                 She's the calm type
                                 You see the small scars
                                 Creepin' down her arms
                                 peeking from them long sleeves, right?
                                 She keeps him weak in the knees
                                 but she stay out of sight
                                 And when that school bell rings
                                 it's goodnight
                                 Or might as well be
                                 He never sees her around
                                 But he looks
                                 For weeks now he's been "Maybe tomorrow"
                                 But he's shook
                                 He sees those bruises and he needs to please her
                                 Plus he don't wanna go home either

                                 Gives her a look as they pass
                                 Copies down a poem from a schoolbook
                                 Gives it to her after hesitation whoops his ass
                                 She took it fast
                                 Lost, like, all sensation in her hands
                                 then braces herself gracefully
                                 sturdy where she stands
                                 humble mumbling
                                 past the words, fumbling
                                 Nothing discouraging
                                 just nerves
                                 just drumming up the courage
                                 Something 'bout skylines
                                 or bike rides
                                 or riverbeds
                                 Somethin'
                                 Somethin' that he read
                                 it caught her right beneath the armor
                                 cauterized thought of any blunt force trauma
                                 Ain't no way that he could harm her
                                 Nuh-uh
                                 No way

                                 When that curse leaves a shell like a snake with fresh scales
                                 Some people seem to call that home
                                 But some souls roam
                                 Keep riding 'til the cycle is broke
                                 We don't gotta go through nothin' alone

                                 She's in the weather
                                 the whole storm
                                 Huggin' on her prince
                                 his hands to skin warm
                                 Quick out the door
                                 no note
                                 no forlorn
                                 'Cause all they heard was "Papa
                                 don't hit me no more"
                                 But they couldn't seem to keep the swelling down
                                 How they regretted ever lettin' out this 3rd child born
                                 But things are getting better now
                                 Yeah, cozy sweater now
                                 with her thumbs through the holes
                                 in her sleeves worn down
                                 And a boy similar
                                 Noise minimal
                                 toy criminal
                                 Joy's simple when someone's found it in you
                                 Somehow it boosts the individual
                                 That bluish hue is mutual
                                 They make love gently
                                 so aware of each others' bruises
                                 And sorta scared they could lose this
                                 trust
                                 Bury the blues
                                 somewhere it won't bear roots
                                 But is this boy where the truth is?
                                 She's spooked, see
                                 Fruit never seems to fall far
                                 from the useless branch that it's attached to
                                 And quacks say if he's beat up he's bound to smack you
                                 She's down to step back now
                                 If he ever gets loud
                                 She couldn't be proud
                                 of whatever she might do
                                 But this is the first time
                                 she ever felt touched
                                 that didn't bring her to hush
                                 like something was being done to her
                                 That unscrews her
                                 She loosens with the booze
                                 Her hinge can stay bent
                                 addressing her dude's wounds
                                 Regressing to bedrooms
                                 where fools ignored "don't"
                                 He's not one of them tools
                                 that screws, nuts and bolts
                                 And she know that
                                 And she know that but she holds back
                                 And she hope that
                                 he see the way she flinch
                                 'cuz it's kneejerk to brace for the attack
                                 Even if he's only rubbing her back
                                 I mean
                                 And even if it's like the deck has been stacked
                                 It's not an act
                                 He's really loving her back

                                 Hold your heart up

                                 "Never raise your hand"
                                 She says that with her grown-up voice
                                 "I'm your's now" just like a child
                                 "Please don't be scared now"
                                 It clicks
                                 a piece finally fits
                                 "I love you"
                                 They say that with their lips

                                 "Never raise your hand"
                                 He says that with a grown-up voice
                                 "I'm your's now" just like a child
                                 "Please don't be scared now"
                                 It clicks
                                 a piece finally fits
                                 "I love you"

                                 When that curse leaves a shell like a snake with fresh scales
                                 Some people seem to call that home
                                 But some souls roam
                                 Keep riding 'til the cycle is broke
                                 We don't gotta go through nothin' alone

                                                                  -"Been Afraid"
                                                                    P.O.S.

Kickball - Week 5...

Played our best game of the season last night.  I think our come-from-behind win last week fired people up.  Everyone was eager to practice, and actually working to try and improve and play better.  And everyone clearly wanted to win.  We made a lot of really spectacular plays, and hardly any errors, got more base-hits than in any game before this, and ended up really evenly matched against a team that clearly would've wiped the field with us a couple weeks ago.

POSITION:

          -due to injuries and vacations, we were short-staffed this week - which meant I got to play
           center field

          -even with the bump-up in field status, I still only had two plays come my way - first one was a
           high pop-up directly to me - I knew I could catch it, and this would be my first opportunity to
           finally do something right in the outfield, and finally get my first out - but I had to run forward
           in order to catch the ball, and I took one too many steps - so instead of the ball falling towards
           me aimed at my chest (which is what I wanted), it was falling towards me aimed at my face
           (which is not what I wanted) - so I couldn't just hug the ball to my body, which is the easiest
           way to catch the super-bouncy kickball, and instead had to try to catch it in my hands in
           order to keep it from slamming me in the face (again) - which of course, I can't do (the ball just
           bounces straight out of my hands every time) - predictably, the ball bounced off of my hands,
           high into the air, and I was about to make our first error of the game - luckily, the guy playing
           left field had run all the way over to me to try and catch the ball himself (now there's a
           confidence booster!) and he was able to catch it on the rebound from me, gaining the out, and
           saving me from an error

          -the other play I had was just a ball that bounced over the 2nd baseman's head, so I fielded it
           and managed to get it to 3rd base to stop the runner from going Home - simple, easy, nothing
           special - at least I didn't fuck it up

AT THE PLATE:

          -first kick was a base-hit - and for the first time, it was skill, rather than luck, that got me
           there - the ball went exactly where I wanted it, in the exact way I wanted it to - felt pretty good            about that - managed to get to 2nd base before our third out ended the inning

          -second-and-final kick (I'm always at the end of the roster, so I only ever get two kicks a game,            whereas everybody else, including all of the girls, and the old guy with the limp, get in three)
           was a short pop-fly, easily caught by the pitcher

FINAL:

          -it was a really tight game - we kept it tied 0-0 into about the 3rd or 4th inning - finally, the old
           guy with the limp made our first error of the game

          -he was playing 3rd base, and we threw him the ball to stop the runner at 3rd from going
           Home - he gets the ball, and stops the runner, so all he has to do at this point is give the ball
           back to the pitcher and the play is over - but he throws it to 2nd base, for no explainable
           reason - the runner at 2nd was already ON the base when he threw the ball, so who the fuck
           was he trying to get out?! - it's as if, whenever he gets the ball, he just randomly does
           something with it, without actually thinking about what he should do with it - anyways, as a
           result, the runner at 3rd ran Home, and the runner at 2nd advanced to 3rd

          -so, skip to the last inning, again, and the other team has a couple of runs on the board, while
           we're still scoreless - but we are apparently Team Come From Behind, because in our last
           chance at the plate, we manage to score all of our runs for the entire game - enough to put us
           up by 1

          -bottom of the last inning, the other team gets one more chance at the plate - and despite our
           best efforts, we made a couple more errors, and they managed to score another run - so the
           game ended in a tie (which isn't a win, but it's still a lot better than a loss), making us 2-2-1
           for the season

INJURIES:

          -I worked hard this game, in a way I haven't since the season opener - really worked up a
           sweat, and got a good workout out of it - so, I'm pretty wiped today, and I'm generally sore all
           over - but, other than that, I'm doing fine - no specific injuries to report - I think it's clear now
           that I'm in better shape than I was when we started the season

          -it was even kind of fun this week

Confounding Conundrum Countered, Conclusively...

Regarding the question, "if I'm still getting high, but just in healthier ways, am I really changing?  am I really getting better?" - a question I have been asking myself here repeatedly for some time now - I think I finally have an answer.

My counselor read my blog entry yesterday regarding the SMART meeting (I sometimes send him pertinent entries to keep him updated between sessions, and he is gracious enough to read them), and he sent me this reply:

A desire to want to get high and/or altering our mind/mood state is part of our genetic, biological, and chemical make-up as Humans. It is an underlying instinctual desire that we all have. That's why we have serotonin, dopamine, endorphins, adrenaline, and various other chemical neurotransmitters in the first place. These chemicals are a vital part of our survival mechanism, that's why sex, eating, and exercise can feel ssoooooo gooood! These chemicals are a part of [our] neuro-chemical make up to ensure pleasure when we engage in these activities. These activities are necessary for the healthy survival of any species. A desire to feel good or even feel high or to alter our mental status is very much a part of who we are as humans. This is why every civilization known to Man has developed some sort of mind altering practices or substances. The harm is when we lose the capacity to regulate the chemical process either internally or externally. Excess is what changes the dynamic from healthy to unhealthy and triggers addictive behaviors.

Short answer:  getting high is just a part of who we are, and we wouldn't be here without it; so, healthy methods are okay, but everything in moderation, always.

It seems so obvious now.  And in hindsight, I feel like I already knew it.  I just couldn't find my own way there, for some reason.  I was over-analyzing the situation again, I think.  Missing the forest for the trees.  I'm glad I had someone there who could explain it to me in a way that I could understand, and use.  Thanks, Doc.

I enjoyed my workout-induced endorphin high this morning, guilt-free.


PS - I kind of want to talk about this at my next SMART meeting, but I don't know if that's because I want to update them on my progress, or if I just want to start a confrontation with the panicky facilitator and prove him wrong in front of the rest of the group.  Can't deny that'd be fun.  But definitely a dick-move, too.  We'll see how I feel next week, I guess.

S.M.A.R.T., Take 2...

Went to my second SMART Group meeting last night.

About half the people there last night, were not there last week.  So, it was almost like meeting a whole new group again; only about half the people there last night had met me the week before.  And the meeting began with the announcement that the person I had found to be the most annoying from the previous week was apparently now going to be the co-facilitator and help run the meetings.  Wonderful. 

It was very much the same as before in most ways.  A lot of older, broken, rather tired and sickly looking people, for the most part (there were a couple exceptions).  And again, everyone basically just spent their time detailing the mundane minutiae of their lives.  It's almost as if everyone is trying to answer the question, "What's been going on with you lately?" rather than, "How have you been doing with your recovery lately?"  And that is sooo boring to listen to for an hour-and-a-half, and just so completely not-helpful.

Once again, the facilitator (the guy who ostensibly runs the meetings) waited until two minutes before the scheduled end of the meeting to get around to me and the other new guy from last week (the one who shouted "Where's Happy Hour?").  Which put us, the new guys, in the position of having to choose between either being looky-lou's (listening to everyone else talk, but not really participating ourselves), or being the reason everyone else had to stay late.  Thanks a lot.  (To be fair, we could've volunteered to speak at any point during the meeting, but as "the new guys," it just doesn't feel right, somehow, to be interjecting and taking time away from people who have been coming there every week for years.)  I'm beginning to get the impression that this guy isn't a very good facilitator.

When it was my turn to talk, I basically gave a quick synopsis of the events and questions I described in yesterday's post.  When I asked aloud, "Maybe everyone needs to get high, and all we can choose is the method?," I saw the facilitator's eyes widen in panic, and he started shaking his head as if to say, "No!  No, don't say THAT!"  Which kind of shocked me and upset me a little.  Why the fuck is that a taboo question?  And I thought the whole point of SMART vs. other organizations was that this was supposed to be free of dogma.  So, what was so wrong with that question??

After I finished speaking there was a murmur of "Wow, good questions. - Yeah, those are good questions. - Wow, I never thought of that. - Whew, how do you answer that one?!," etc. from the rest of the group, which was far more reaction than had been generated by anything else said at the meeting to that point.  (Not bragging, just stating a fact.)  And then a bunch of people offered several comments (again representing more activity than had been seen in the rest of the meeting so far).

The really annoying, whiny woman who is apparently now going to be co-facilitator told me that I should trust my feelings (whatever that means - I just told you my feelings - my feelings are "this makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong, but I'm not sure I really am doing anything wrong") and to try an experiment where I accept it, and tell myself that it's okay to feel that way, and then see how that makes me feel.  (???)  And then another, older gentleman (who apparently is either a chemist or other scientist, or works with chemists or other scientists) started trying to explain to me in dumbed-down language about Endorphins, without actually naming them.  I interrupted him to say, "yeah, I know, the endorphins.  And they activate the opiate-receptors, so it's basically a naturally produced painkiller."  He seemed kind of shocked and at a loss for words after that (guess he was looking forward to dropping some science on me?), but went on to say that since my body is producing it for a good reason, then I should just enjoy it.  Which made absolutely no sense to me.  What fucking difference does it make if the opiate is synthetic or naturally produced by my body??  I'm still activating my opiate-receptors, which is the exact behavior pattern I'm trying to fucking break!  The idea that it's as simple as just Natural vs. Synthetic is completely asinine.  But I didn't have the heart to tell him that, of course.  I just nodded and smiled and tried to look grateful.  And there were other comments, as well, but none any more helpful.  They basically fell into either "trust your feelings/instincts" (gee, thanks, hadn't figured that one out yet) or "it's okay, so accept it and allow yourself to enjoy it" (no explanation as to why or how it's okay - just stating simply that it is, so accept it - again, thanks so much; I guess I should just do what you say and not worry about having to, I don't know, understand the situation at all or anything).

And so, after two meetings, I'm beginning to wonder if this group really has anything to offer me.  I keep hearing people tell their stories, and describe how they learned some lesson or wisdom that seems totally basic and completely obvious to me, and that I feel as if I learned ten years ago; and this coming from someone old enough to be my father, or my grandfather!  I came to this group hoping to learn something, and maybe find a resource that I could use for help when I needed it.  But over and over again, I keep finding that I want to help these people, that I want to educate them, instead of the other way around!  I'm not trying to be a condescending prick here, honestly.  It's just that it seems to me as if I'm already a lot farther down this road than they all are.  (When you think about it, I've been doing this my whole life - from before I even started using - while I was using, for crying out loud - and this is just the latest stage of it.)  I feel as though I'm asking people who are still figuring out the things I already know, what I should do next, when they can't possibly know, because they haven't even gotten to the point that I'm at yet, much less beyond it.

All I seem to have gained from attending these meetings so far, is a reinforcement of the same experience I have whenever I get in a group of other people:  I end up feeling like a condescending misanthrope.  (It's so weird - I used to need other people so badly when I was a kid.  I didn't know who I was without a group of friends around me to validate and support me.  And now, I can't stand people!  It drives me crazy to have to spend any significant amount of time with the general public.)

I don't know.  Maybe as I get more comfortable with this group, things will get better.  Maybe my influence will lead them to participate more and discuss more worthwhile topics.  (That certainly seemed to be the case last night.)  Or maybe as I get to know them better, and feel more comfortable inserting my $.02 into the conversation, maybe I actually will be able to help some of them.  And maybe helping some of them will help me in some fashion.  I don't know.  It's possible, I guess.  I'm going to give it a few more meetings before I make any decisions, at the very least; I want to give this a fair chance, and not make any snap-judgements.

And, worst-case-scenario, if this meeting continues to be this bad, or gets even worse, there's always another meeting close to my work that I could try out instead.  Maybe that one will be better.


More of the bizarre, "ironic" (?) signs from the back wall of the room:

"I'm not an alcoholic, I'm a drunk. Alcoholics go to meetings."

"Don't Drink and Drive.  You might spill your beer."

"I <3 BEER"

"Don't Drink and Park:  Cocktails Make People Make More People"

The Mighty Endorphin...

Day 3 of my new-and-improved workout routine.  Running harder and faster, really getting my heart rate up there.

Around about the 15-minute mark, I started to notice some changes.  It was starting to hurt less.  In fact, more than that - I was starting to feel pretty good!  The music I was listening to was just suddenly so awesome!  And my eyelids were getting sooo heavy.  I was getting really drowsy, but not sleepy, and I wasn't slowing down at all.  I was still pumping away at a furious pace, to match the beating of my heart - left, right, left, right, left right left right left right bang bang bang bang.  It felt more like nodding, that state where the opiate is so overwhelmingly pleasurable that the user repeatedly passes in and out of consciousness, or "nods off."

And that's when I realized it:  I was really high!

And while I enjoyed it, and while I knew I was doing something good for myself - and so I should just let myself enjoy this, could even consider it my reward for putting in the effort - there was a part of me that still felt bad about it and felt like I was doing something wrong.  And then I was right back to trying to answer that same question I keep coming back to:  if I'm still getting high, but just in different and less destructive ways, then am I really getting better?

If my goal here was to stop getting high in destructive and/or dangerous ways, then I could easily answer that question, "Yes, I am getting better."  But that isn't my goal.  My goal is to try and stop needing to get high all the time, period, regardless of method.  Because if I can't rid myself of the need to get high all the time, then when the healthy methods stop working as well for me, or when I get into a dark place again for one reason or another (we all have them, life is full of dark places we must traverse once in a while), then I'm going to turn to unhealthy methods again to satisfy that desire.

I'm not going to stop meditating, and I'm not going to stop studying Mathematics and other Sciences, and I'm not going to stop playing video games, and I'm not going to stop having awesome sex with Her, and I'm not going to stop writing, and I'm not going to stop working out.  So, if I am getting high off of these things, then I guess that means I have to learn how to live with that.

So, then, can I adjust my goal of trying to not get high at all, regardless of method?  Is that even a reasonable goal to have set myself?  Can I reasonably expect to be able to achieve that without moving to a cave somewhere and spending the rest of my life meditating like an itinerant sage?  Is getting high just something that I need in order to make my life feel worth living?  And if so, is that true for everyone, or just me?  What if the only real choice I have is the method I use?  And is that something I can live with?  No, I can live with it.  But is it something I can learn to be okay with?

I don't know the answers.  But I know I'm not done asking the questions.

Hunger Update...

It's late, and I just got home, and this is my first opportunity to write, and I just really can't bring myself to spend the remainder of my night coming up with something worthwhile to expound on; I still have to make and eat dinner at some point, for crying out loud.

So, for the sake of having something to post quickly, I thought I'd give an update on my mysterious, insatiable hunger that I learned at my counseling session today (one of the many reasons I'm getting home so late, actually).  I'm pleased to report that my counselor was able to confirm that while a craving for sweets is more common, just being hungry all the time is not unheard of, and that it most likely is, just as I thought, due to my sudden lack of alcohol.  He also mentioned it could be due to the fact that drinking a lot (especially beer) tends to expand the stomach, so it could simply be that it just takes more food to give me that "full" feeling now than it used to.

It was good to learn all of this, but this was about the least important thing we touched on today.  It's just the only one I can toss off a blog post about quickly.

Now it's time to make dinner.  Mmm...polish sausage and angel hair marinara - yum!