It’s been a while.
The exact measurement of a “while” – 11 days.
What has happened? A whole hell of a lot. Or should I say, a whole “helloween” of a lot.
Because Halloween happened. It was an amazing time and I didn’t think about drinking for more than a few seconds. There were two dance parties happening in my house, and I was a clown. I’ve been talking about what a great party it was to anyone who will listen.
Digression
Costumes are amazing things. When I think back to the first time I felt like I was my own person, with my own identity, it is tied up with what I wore (plaids and army boots). When I decided to go to my first college, it was because I liked the way people dressed. (This may sound shallow, but at that point in my life, it was as good a reason as any. I didn’t know what I wanted or even who I was, so how was I to decide which college would fit me best?).
I’m not ready to fully digress, so here are some ideas about costumes:
- We grow into our costumes.
- Costumes are how we identify with a group.
- Costumes make us more aware of the image we present to the world.
- Costumes say something about us.
- Clowns aren’t always creepy.
The Rest of the Week
Monday I decided to take the advice of Timothy Ferris, author of The 4-hour Workweek, and set an impossible goal.
I was going to write my business plan in one day.
It actually took me about 20 hours, which I spread over 3 days.
The business plan is for my writing coach/tutor business.
On Tuesday, I began to design a new blog! It will be called Dreaming Right, and it will be all about my favorite person’s encounters with self-help books, programs, and blogs.
There will be more on The 4-hour Workweek, as well as 12-step programs, concepts learned from Zen Habits, and maybe even a GTD post.
I am a slow typist and a CSS/HTML noob, so I spent a lot of time figuring out how to do simple things, like create nice looking navigation tabs. I am still working out the bugs.
Also on Tuesday: Obama.
I’m sure you’ve heard enough about the whole political scene, so I’ll just say: It’s nice to see Americans hugging each other, and crying with joy. The last time I remember seeing that, it was in black and white.
Speaking of black and white, here’s what I think of red and blue:
On Friday, I went to our local film festival’s opening night and say a Buster Keaton film with live performers doing the musical score. The crowd was local and enthusiastic, and Buster Keaton was our hero.
And, I smoked my last two cigarettes.
Saturday, Sunday, Monday – I dealt with cigarette cravings.
It occurs to me why so many people have trouble quitting. They are faced with a choice: Smoke a cigarette or continue to feel CRAZY. The first two days, especially when I wasn’t busy, made me feel like I was possesed by a smoker. He was trapped in my body and calmly but persistently demanding satisfaction.
But I still haven’t smoked.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Leave a Comment
I’m freaking out! It’s about my economic situation. I am broke.
To make matters worse, some idiotic decisions are coming back to haunt me. I have an awful habit of driving without insurance. A habit that caused me to accrue over $700 dollars in fines.
Luckily, I paid them off.
Unluckily, I got pulled over last week and found out my license was suspended and my tabs were expired. I had a court date yesterday, which I totally forgot about.
Now there is a warrant out for my arrest!
These tickets are probably going to end up costing me a thousand dollars.
I don’t have a job. I’m freaking out.
What now?
Well, the first thing I did was to call the court. They told me I could come in next Thursday and pay 50 bucks for an opportunity to explain why I missed the court date.
I’m still freaking out, but not as badly.
The problem is that the freak-out is self-justifying. It was triggered by my sudden realization that I spaced-out such an important thing, but it continues because it is finding tons of reasons in my sub-conscious to perpetuate itself, things floating around that feed it.
Here is what my freak-out is telling me:
- You are lazy.
- The economy is bad.
- You are crippled by fear.
- You are neglecting your responsibilities.
- You are lazy. (This idea is particularly hardy freak-out food)
My gut is tied in a knot and I feel like crying. Actually, the knot is loosening a little bit. I am starting to feel better.
Why?
I have identified what my freak-out is feeding on. Looking closely at piece of freak-out food, I see that it may be either true and within my control, true and outside of my control, or simply not true.
Not true:
I am not lazy, I am prolific. I am not crippled by fear, I am bravely examining my fear.
Outside of my control:
There is nothing I can do about the economy.
True:
Perhaps I have been neglecting my responsibilites. I can do something about that.
So, after doing what I can about the trigger for my freak-out, I proceed to eradicate the three flavors of freak-out food.
Neutralizing False Fears
I’m just figuring this out myself, but these techniques seem to work on the things that simply aren’t true.
Looking at them - most fears that are obviously false will shrivel under the light of observation. “Look how much I have accomplished in the past month, how can I be lazy.”
Affirmations – “I am prolific and productive. I am brave.” These cheesy statements are often quite effective, even if they remind you of Stuart Smalley.
I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me!
Writing about them - write a list, persuasive essay, (or a blog post!) giving all the reasons why the fear is a false one. Writing has always given me clarity when I’ve been overwhelmed by emotion, although it doesn’t usually produce very good writing.
Accepting things that are out of your control
Worry never robs tomorrow of its sorrow, it only saps today of its joy. – Leo Buscaglia
One of the biggest things that we worry about that is completely out of our control is the past. I can not go back and make that court date, so, intellectually at least, I know I shouldn’t be worrying, much less freaking out about it. I find it helpful to remind myself:
I am not responsible for my past actions, only for the present consequences of those actions.
I am not responsible for the actions of others.
and, for good measure…
I did not break the economy.
Acceptance is also a key part of the serenity prayer, another great thing I learned from 12-step programs:
“…grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference…”
Doing something about legitimate fears
Break them down into parts – What are my responsibilities? They are creations of society and my own personal morality. I am responsible for keeping my word, keeping myself fed, paying taxes, and doing what is best for my well-being, which includes helping rather than harming the people I come into contact with. Which of these responsibilities am I neglecting right now? And what can I do about it?
Take action – The only real responsibility I have been neglecting is the promise to myself and my readers to post regularly on this blog. So, guess what? Here it is, a new post! Taking action feels great.
Oscar Rodgers put’s it simply:
And don’t over-analyze, you can never predict what course events will take, just do the next right thing and know that you are doing everything you can to vanquish your freak-out.
PS – 48 days with no booze!
Filed under: Uncategorized | Leave a Comment
No, it don't.
My 30 day experiment is quite over – What do I do now?
In this post I’ll answer one small part of that question: What do I do about my drinking now?
Here are my options:
- Lay down an ultimatum – I will never drink again.
Pros: Being the decider.
Cons: Being like “the decider” – a man who’s lack of doubt led him to be the worst president ever. (Here is a great article by Bob Woodard about Dubya’s decision to start a war)
- Do it one day at a time – In true 12 step fashion, I will declare, as often as necessary, that, just for today, I am not going to pick up a drink.
- Do it one month at a time – Yea! The title of this blog will once again make sense!
- Make an arbitrary compromise – I will drink only on holidays. I will drink only once a month. I will only have 2-3 drinks each time I drink.
- Drink tonight – Fuck restraint. Woohoo!
- Don’t decide – If I don’t commit, I can’t fail!
Pros: Making a bite-sized decision that is doable and not overwhelming.
Cons: Having to make that decision every day, perhaps many times a day.
Pros: Not having to make a decision for another month.
Cons: Having to go through this hand-wringing shit again in 30 days.
Pros: The ability to drink while still feeling like I have made a healthy decision.
Cons: The nagging feeling that I’ve copped out.
Pros: Sweet intoxication, a feeling of belonging
Cons: Guilt and the possibility of an unproductive life with a tendency to downward spiraling and wreckage.
Pros: It is really easy.
Cons: Beer might decide for me.
When a decision is not a decision.
As I lay out the possibilities, I am reminded of a flash of insight that I had one day about decisions. Making a decision isn’t like making an incision. Unless it is a present moment type decision, like, “I am going to jump off this diving board,” or “I will have pepperoni with that,” you don’t just decide and forget about it – you keep making that decision until it is done. Each decision that doesn’t result in an immediate action, requires other decisions. Your earlier self is the one who said, “I am going to stop drinking for 30 days,” but the you that lives right now must decide whether it is going to honor the decision of the earlier you. That is a decision in itself. So, for every big decision there is the follow-up decision: “Do I honor my previous decision or not?” If you make a decision about your lifestyle, you have to decide again and again to follow through and make it happen.
So, even though I was prepared to choose none of the above, I am going to bite the bullet. My decision is…(Drumroll please)
I’m not going to drink today, and I am going to try and make that same decision every day.
Great.
I feel better.
What now? (rimshot)
Filed under: Uncategorized | Leave a Comment
That’s a Wrap…Psych!
It has been forty days (and forty nights).
When I started this blog I set a few goals for myself:
- document my experience
staying sobernot drinking for thirty days - share with people who are struggling to find balance in their drug use
- maintain my resolve
- develop my blogging, writing, and ability to attract readers (read: web marketing, social networking)
- answer the questions, “Why drink?” and “Why not drink?”
I have to say, goals 1 through 4 were met with extreme to moderate success. As far as answering the Big Questions, I made progress, but realized that they are questions we all have to answer for ourselves.
I published 14 posts. Really, only 12 of them were within the 30-day timeframe, but that still makes an average of one post every two and a half days! I think the quality of the posts was fairly consistent and high. I eventually stopped adding the updates that were kind of like diary entries, because I felt that they weren’t very interesting. In a way, I didn’t really document my experience of the thirty days. Instead, I documented most of what I know and feel about addiction as it relates to my experience. I wasn’t documenting the present. Instead, I was compiling and presenting relevant information that I have gleaned during my past 32 years.
What I learned from 30 days of blogging.
- I can produce at least one quality post every 3 days, if the conditions are right…
- Good content = passion + rumination + good information. I have thought about the themes of this blog for over a decade, so the information was mostly in my head. Even so, I did a fair amount of research to add value to my posts. The rumination part is critical, because most of my “ah-ha” moments came while I was away from the computer.
- Doing good things for yourself is good for others. I have always believed that it was ethical to work on my own well-being, but had little evidence that helping myself was really making the world a better place. During this experiment, several friends and acquaintances decided to experiment as well. Although only one of them succeeded, the others at least made attempts and perhaps became a little more aware of the limitations of a drinking habit.
- All that I have read about creating well-being, all the “life-hacks”, tips, tricks, and affirmations – they all help. Doing something as an experiment, telling as many people as possible, documenting your progress, doing something for 30 days…these are all great pieces of advice that actually work. Thanks again to Zen Habits.
- Being anonymous is hard. Being honest is hard. I ended up sharing this blog with my mom, step-dad, and friends, but I can’t use it in a portfolio, because of the pot stuff.
- Inspiration doesn’t fit a regular schedule. In my next blog, I will spread my posts out. If I feel inspired to write two posts in one day, I will save the second post a few days before publishing it.
- Finally, I learned a lot of technical lessons: the limitations of free blog sites like WordPress, how to embed various widgets, how to write concisely without losing my voice, how to create an RSS feed for my site…
Overall, I feel stunningly successful. The only downside is that I haven’t yet found a niche that will sustain my interest long enough to create a lasting blog. I have a few great ideas which I will talk about in my next post.
Thank You
I want to thank all of my friends who read my posts and gave me feed back. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Filed under: Uncategorized | 2 Comments
Poverty
Today is Blog Action Day. It’s about poverty.
All of my thinking about the world poverty situation is informed by this lecture by Hans Rosling.
And here is a great song that isn’t about poverty.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Leave a Comment
There is a great scene from the 80s movie, Broadcast News, where Holly Hunter’s character, Jane, has what I like to think of as a scheduled breakdown. She is in her hotel room and has just agreed to meet her co-worker in the lobby in half an hour.
She hangs up -- takes the phone off the hook and lays it on the bed for a moment's solitude. She sits stiffly, palms on top of her legs. It looks like someone with unusually good posture, waiting for something, and now we BEGIN TO SEE the first signs redden and she begins to cry. Now she sobs -- then miraculously shakes it off and exits quickly to the bathroom. This crying episode is clearly part of her morning routine.
Get the full screenplay here.
Over the years, I’ve come to accept that every couple of months or so, I have a similar breakdown. It lasts longer than Jane’s, and isn’t really scheduled…so I guess it isn’t that similar, except that it feeds the same need…the need to wallow.
My Recent Wallowfest
I spent the last 3 days neglecting nearly every one of my responsibilities.
Here’s how you do it: Let everything drop, isolate, watch tv and order delivery. Play spider solitaire for five hours. Click the “Stumble!” button on your web browser until your eyes lose focus. Watch TV. Feel depressed.
Shutting down for a couple of days is a childish, “mom, I’m sick” type of thing to do, but there is something to be said for wallowing every once in a while. I don’t want to rationalize it, but I would like to make peace with it.
Why Wallowing Ain’t All Bad
The practice of wallowing does have its benefits. Here are a few lessons I learn and relearn during my time on the pity-pot:
- The world does not fall apart. Although some of my wallow fests have resulted in minor damage (missed assignments, appointments, or showers), most of the time nothing at all happens. Life goes on.
- I feel better eventually. This too passes. No matter how much I cling to the nothingness of depression, it eventually ends. This is my own experience, not meant to be universal advice, particularly for people who have chemical or neurological reasons for being depressed.
- It is possible for me to enjoy something and hate myself at the same time. Wallowing has the same obsessive-compulsive quality that drug use has. Take the 15 episodes of Arrested Development that I watched during my most recent wallow. I enjoyed each episode, but I never quite silenced the inner voice that told me that I was wasting my life.
- Great advice is annoying. “Buck-up”…”take baby steps”…”let go and let God”…”this too shall pass…” I’m wallowing right now, please leave a message at the tone. No matter how well intentioned, advice on how to “fix” my attitude and get out of my rut annoys me. I have learned to nod and thank the advice giver, then go back to watching crap TV.
- Philosophy will not get me out of a rut. Big ideas tend to reveal big tragedies when I am wallowing. It’s all meaningless after all, what with us dying in the end and God being either dead or invisible. When I am wallowing, I am feeling, not thinking.
- Simple things will - I like to work from the bottom up. No matter how stuck I feel at the beginning of a wallow, I will come out of it at the end because I’m ready and because I start doing something simple like:
- Waiting. See #2.
- Cleaning. A clean room may not give my life meaning, but it will put me in a better mood.
- Taking a shower. There is nothing more depressing than smelling your own ass.
- Taking a walk. Although I will reject this piece of advice if someone offers it, getting out of the house can often lead to miracles.
- Accomplishing a very small task. “The day wasn’t a total waste, I took the trash out!” This last wallow I made an origami picture frame and caught some ladybugs to eat the aphids off my girlfriend’s houseplant. I was a whirlwind of activity!
- Making a plan. At some point, I decide that tomorrow I will reenter the land of the living. It helps to have a few tasks written down.
And oh yeah…I’m still not drinking and it is day 32!
Filed under: Uncategorized | 2 Comments
Resting on My Laurels
Today is my 26th day without drinking. I haven’t felt inspired to write a great post, so I’ll serve up this essay I wrote several years ago. It is, perhaps, an answer to the question, “Why smoke cigarettes?”
Cigarette
The first fifteen minutes of my drive to campus wind past a field which is topped, for a second, by a glimpse of Budd Inlet and Cooper Point beyond. There is a horse lying down, a sign in front of a Lutheran church that says “Anger’s best solution is delay.” There are some goats that I noticed for the first time a couple days ago, there are two parks, a lonely Shell station with a convenience store that is stocked more like a general store, with bacon, nails, coffee beans, cans of soup, video rentals, copies of a locally authored book about geoducks…
I often have my first cigarette of the day on this drive—the nicotine creeps into the back of my neck, my stomach, my nervous system, my brain. Nicotine initially causes a rapid release of adrenaline, the “fight-or-flight” hormone. It also causes increased release of acetylcholine from my neurons, leading to heightened activity in cholinergic pathways throughout my brain. This in turn promotes the release of the neurotransmitter dopamine in my brain’s reward pathways. The nicotine also causes the release of glutamate, a neurotransmitter involved in learning and memory. My first cigarette stimulates receptors in my hypothalamus, hippocampus, thalamus, midbrain, and brain stem, as well as my cerebral cortex. Besides acetylcholine and dopamine, norepinephrine, serotonin,vasopressin, growth hormone, and ACTH neurotransmitters are released by the nicotine’s actions.
Many smokers enjoy their initial cigarette more than any other, but I consistently feel sick after the second puff. My nausea is always accompanied immediately by an emotion like depression, but it comes on with more urgency, with the sharp edges of terror.
McCain's Hero.
Whatever tide of neurotransmitters and hormones washes through my system, it pushes me up against a familiar, yet mysterious shore. It is a low-lying place where I’ve lost shoes in the sucking mud. I stuck my kindergarten teddy bear under a bush there. I had accidentally carried it halfway to my first grade classroom, suddenly seized by the fact that I was way too old to have a teddy bear at school. When I returned, the stuffed animal was gone. When I visit this foggy place, I am still the shortest in my class. In the murky air, I pass an anguished earlier self and know I can’t help. I can’t stop him from asking that girl to marry him, from throwing dozens of pages of horrible poetry at her feet and crying on no sleep. “You don’t really love her,” I might yell at my earlier self, “You are on amphetamines, or in withdrawal from all that Codeine and Vicodin. You are just desperate for some meaning.” I can’t make him hear, no matter how urgently I whisper, “You are embarrassing yourself!”
When this sharp edge of self-pity, this familiar amorphous violence, hits me after the second drag of my first cigarette, when I am suddenly balanced precariously on this side of tears, it takes me a moment to realize that this happens every time. Every morning I smoke a cigarette. Every morning I am momentarily washed away, spun around, sucked up. Every morning this bad tide quickly recedes and I forget that I was drowning a second ago. The day comes crowding in, happily, and the moment is forgotten.
Today I know the terror passes, but I didn’t always. I haven’t always been able to visit the darkest spot on that gloomy shore. At one time, those desperate memories were inaccessible, even though they were fresh. From the flat uncomfortable place that the people in the recovery business call “post acute withdrawal syndrome,” I couldn’t quite believe that my paranoia had been so imaginative, that terror was a thing I had actually felt, sharply and recently.
There are thoughts I had in the days before I went into rehab that I still don’t want to write down, thoughts that I would imagine a schizophrenic might have: parasites, poisoned water, someone hiding in my house…everyone knows, they all know…One night I collapsed face down on my couch, every light in my house burning, my mind was still racing but I hadn’t eaten or slept in days, so my body collapsed. As clear
as if it was in the other room, a voice called my name, a voice I was sure belonged to someone playing a trick on me, maybe the neighbor across the street was hiding in the basement. I am sure, now, that I hallucinated this voice, but I was as sure, then, that the voice was real when I answered it: “What? Leave me alone.” All this was insane, but what strikes me as more insane, more pitiful, is the fact that I did not get up, I just remained face down on the couch, allowing the conspiracy of killers in my basement free reign.
In the rooms of NA and AA—that is what they are called, “the rooms”—you hear a lot of things over and over; the experience of the addict is universal and clichés proliferate: One day at a time. You’re right where you’re supposed to be. My best thinking got me here. Let go and let God. Most recovering addicts insist that they
never want to forget what brought them to the rooms, their “bottom,” their last high. This is the redemption that my first cigarette of the day brings me: the reminder of how bad it got. Addicts don’t know much about what feelings are. They have suppressed them for a long time, pressed them into the feeling of being high and the feeling of not being high. So, when Bernard, the drug counselor at my outpatient facility, a big black man who had a weird kind of non-greasy jerry curl haircut and fingernails that had some type of fungus on them, demanded of me how I felt about an experience, I was often at a loss. He helped me out by saying, “There ain’t but five,” pointing at piece of oak tag on which someone had written:
F ear
L oneliness
A nger
P ain
P leasure
S adness
There ain’t but five. In one way, the reduction of my emotional range to an acronym has been a good thing. It is a comfort to be able to grasp my feelings, write them down, safely label them and place them back on the shelf, certain that they will all make an appearance at one time or another, that no matter how they mess up my apartment and demand my attention, they are only here to visit. Nevertheless, my emotions are calling the shots, even when they linger in the background. I’m not sure, but I think that all my choices are dictated, in the end, by my desire to comfortably balance my emotions. I try to live so that sadness doesn’t dig too deep, so that loneliness doesn’t penetrate as sharply, so that pleasure doesn’t leave me washed up, writhing.
But there is more to a thing than its name. I cannot describe all the things that happen when I am on that morning drive by looking at an oak tag poster or researching the psychopharmacological effects of nicotine. That sudden drop, that shaky dark vision that the cigarette brings on is something more. It serves several functions. Its transience assures me of its transience. Its darkness shows me light. It is contrast.
I have a warm apartment, fifteen minutes from anywhere. I am looking out window at the water and the hazy silhouette of the Olympics. I have my neighbor’s beagle curled up on the couch. Spring is coming quickly. I will never run out of good books to read. I have a good stereo and my favorite radio station comes in clear. I am my parent’s prodigal son. I have goals. I am in college. I am incredibly happy and light. I will float away.
This is why I thank gravity. This is why I do not want to give up my daily moment of darkness, of heaviness. My moment of nostalgic terror is a glimpse at what my life is not, what it was, what it could be: contrast. When I smoke my morning cigarette, it is the beginning of my prayer of thanks, my ablution. My moment of terror is not just payment for my blessings, but reassurance that all things pass, and all things return.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Leave a Comment
Taming Our Habit Creatures
Riding habits like a king, imagination reigns.
Every grown-up man consists wholly of habits, although he is often unaware of it and even denies having any habits at all. ~Georges Gurdjieff
I’ve been thinking a lot about habits the past three days and I think I’ve come up with a great way to look at them…
We are not merely creatures of habit, we are also riding our creatures of habit bareback, fingers wrapped in their hairy manes, holding on for dear life. We are both jungle and wild thing, kings and beasts.
Culture, genes, instinct, and chance wire our brains to trigger behaviors that we repeat. We need habits to survive and function in society. Take food. We are born with the habit of suckling, we learn the habit of eating, then get used to making food for ourselves, then buying food for ourselves…If we are conscious about our health, we learn to make shopping lists and buy healthy food. If we aren’t, we get into the habit of buying Big Macs.
The difference between a good and bad habit can sometimes be slim, but when you tame the wild ones by “staring into their yellow eyes without blinking once” like Max in Where the Wild Things Are you climb onto the back of the habit creature and regain control. Of course, staring into those yellow eyes is scary. And while your trying to tame one habit, another one is gnashing its terrible teeth and rolling its terrible eyes, holding back its terrible roars so it can jump you and kick your ass.
Here is one great way to not blink when trying to tame a habit:
- Don’t do it. Don’t try to get rid of an old habit. Create a new one. We aren’t going to dismantle any neural pathways, they are built to last. What we can do is create new pathways. For example, this month, I am getting into the habit of not drinking. And the cool thing about creating new habits is that it creates new pathways in the brain. The ability of the brain to grow new pathways is called neuroplasticity and it is yet another example of science catching up to “mystical” or spiritual traditions that have been around for ages. Here is a NY Times article about it.
…brain researchers have discovered that when we consciously develop new habits, we create parallel synaptic paths, and even entirely new brain cells, that can jump our trains of thought onto new, innovative tracks.
If you are into neuroplasticity, check out this great episode of The Infinite Mind radio program.
Here are 18 other tips on creating good habits from Lifehacker, an amazing and award winning blog. In the past three weeks I think I’ve used at least 10.
Even better, go to Zen Habits, a blog all about creating good habits as a path to happiness. If you only click one link in this blog, I recommend Zen Habits.
Just for fun, here are some of my favorite habits:
- GTD - Getting Things Done is a productivity system that was created by David Allen. It has reached cult status on the internet, so google it. It actually requires a few habits such as: collecting every piece of “stuff” or thing that needs doing/putting/fixing in one place (I use a stack of index cards) and regularly processing and reviewing the list of stuff.
- Pacing while on the phone - What is up with this? Does the radiation in the phone affect the pacing center of my brain.
- Identifying feelings and their causes – When I was using a lot, I could identify when I was happy (high) and when I wasn’t. During the 7 years I wasn’t using, I learned that there are a few feelings, and that when you identify them, you could usually do something about them, even if it was just acknowledging that they were ok to feel. This habit is probably the greatest of all my habits, because it has spurred a lot of self-improvement. If I’m feeling angry at myself, or anxious about something, there is usually an improvement I can make.
- Cigarettes – Sweet, sweet cancer.
- Sweets - Sweet, sweet, sweets.
- Televison – I am mostly into tv series (seria?seri?) that have some sort of mystery to be uncovered. I just watched the first few episodes of Fringe which satisfied the great hole that the X-files left in my life. Another great show that I thought had died with the writer’s strike is Life.
- NPR – Or any informative radio. I love John Lydon’s Open Source Radio. This American Life, of course.
Music – I tend to put on music all the time, sometimes in the middle of a conversation. I also collect music like a fiend. Right now I have about 230 Gigs of music. - StumbleUpon – This is a button that you install on your browser that produces magic. If you don’t know about StumbleUpon, please do yourself and your freetime a favor, and forget that I mentioned it.
Habit is habit, and not to be flung out of the window by any man, but coaxed downstairs a step at a time. ~Mark Twain
Filed under: Uncategorized | Leave a Comment
I started this blog with a question. It is about time I take a shot at answering it. Excuse the facetiousness.
So.
Why do I drink?
I drink to…
- Have a fire to gather around. – Booze is a social drink, a pool that all fellow drinkers swim in, a fire to gather around. Of course, a fire is also a fire to gather around.
- Be someone else. – My high school English teacher described getting drunk this way, and it has stuck with me. I often drink to be different.
- Be dumb/surprised. – Things are funnier, things are more fun, when ur dumb, when ur dumb.
- Be numb. – Be still brain, be quiet pain.
- Be brave. – see #2 and #3
- Hang out with people I don’t like! – They ain’t so bad, especially when their buyin’.
- Be Like Bukowski! – Or Kerouac, Hemingway, Dylan Thomas, Fitzgerald, Dorothy Parker…
- Waste money! – Tip a bartender for a drink that already costs 10 times more than homemade version or buy a six-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon, you’re still wasting some green.
- Lose at poker! Lose some teeth! – Two things drinking has allowed me to do. You may want to add, lose your license, self-respect, or if you hop behind the wheel, your life.
- Lose my lunch! – I haven’t done this for 11 or so years, but I have felt the room spin a couple times.
- Go to rehab! – Amy Winehouse did it. So did I.
Bonus reason to drink: Beer goggles!
I’m not sure why all the worst reasons deserve exclamation points, but they do!
Update:
Day 17 – I’ve been doing work on my business plan and the blog for about 7 hours. I’m going to push it for another half an hour, and then do some biking before the sun sets.
Day 16 - I hung out with my girlfriend today. She is on day 9 or so. How cool is it that she decided to quit for 30 days too? Very cool. We walked up and down the Black Hills, near Olympia, WA, until our legs were sore. Even the constant hum of motor bikes and ATVs couldn’t bring us down. Thank you, girlfriend.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Leave a Comment
Experience not Expertise
The 30-day Nephalist began as an experiment to help me quit drinking and to explore how I felt about it. I am not an expert and my greatest nightmare is to provide fuel for someone's rationalizations about their drug or alcohol use.
What I am:
- A 32-year old who has stopped drinking but continued smoking nicotine and marijuana.
- A former member of Narcotics Anonymous who once abstained from all drugs, including alcohol, for about 7 years
- Someone who wants you to do the right thing, even if it is hard
What I am NOT:
- An expert.
- An enabler.
