The Dinosaur Post

Several months ago (November, to be exact) I talked about a post I wanted to write called "Why Jurassic Park is Like Christianity."  The premise of it was derived from one of my late-night Wikipedia excursions where, instead of going to bed at a reasonable hour like a sane human being, I flitted from link to link about random, disjointed subjects; from people who have recently died to string theory to GWAR; like a bumble bee of information, pollinating anything bright and colorful that seemed interesting to look at.  I had landed on the entry for Jurassic Park (the book) and spent some time thinking about what a great book it is and how long it had been since I read it and wondering whether or not I could find it in the avalanche of books and papers strewn about my home due to an extreme lack of sufficient space to organize them all.

The thing that stuck out to me most, though, was a statement that the article made about the idea of Jurassic Park (the fictional place) being "an unsustainable simple structure bluntly forced upon a complex system."  Maybe it was due to the fact that I was 10 the first time I read it, or maybe it was because the last time I read it was five years ago when I was high, but I never really thought about that as being a major theme of the book.  I always kinda just read it as a really creative story in which a lot of people get eaten.  In fairness, the novel never explicitly states the "unsustainable" idea in those exact terms and it's difficult to latch onto something so abstract when you're 10 (or high).  But, thinking back on it, I think that's pretty much the whole point of Jurassic Park.  The entire story is a description of a very tightly-controlled and closely monitored operation descending into complete and utter chaos for no other reason than the simple fact that things don't always go according to plan.

I thought about that idea in relation to my faith: "an unsustainable simple structure bluntly forced upon a complex system."  I really like that phrase.  I think it's a very accurate description for how I tend to view a lot of things.  I want to have a very "A + B = C" kind of life, where it doesn't take too much brain power to figure out how things add up.  I want to have successful relationships solely through making friends with the right kinds of people who are easy to get along with and add value to my life because of how rich and powerful and generous and kind they are.  I want to be wealthy and comfortable without having to put in more than 40 hours a week or operate outside the boundaries of a dead-end job where I punch a clock and get paid to stand around and look busy.  I want to get all the things I want and give up very little in return and have everything work out for the absolute best in the end, without pain or misery or suffering or loss.  In short, I want everything to function on the terms that I determine to be best and never be outside of my control.

But life doesn't really work that way.  Like, at all.  Nothing cooperates.  Nobody listens.  Every conceivable change I've ever tried to make has met with incalculable, and in some cases unconquerable resistance.  On my best days, I can make it about fifteen minutes without a real problem.  Something always comes up.  There's so-and-so who I was supposed to e-mail back and never did.  There's that thing I've been telling myself I would do for days/weeks/months/years, but continue to put off until later.  There's that one friend who I made plans with that flaked out on me.  There's that other friend who keeps bugging me for time I don't have or money I shouldn't spend or kindness I can't fake.  There are a million other things that, for a million other reasons, are asking for more than I can deliver and stretching me beyond what I can bear.  And that's not even mentioning all the "God stuff."  So I keep going back to my system, keep trying to reduce things back down to my "A + B" way of living, and keep telling myself that one day it'll work.

I've been sticking with the CR stuff and it's been helping a lot.  Not so much in the "I'm a totally different person now who operates in a completely different way than I used to" sense, but more in the sense that I feel like I'm finally starting to get my head wrapped around this idea of accepting my life for what it is, not what I wish it was or what I think it should be.  In the book, the people trying to control Jurassic Park didn't realize that there was a problem because their computers were programmed incorrectly.  Since they assumed that the dinosaurs couldn't breed, they designed a tracking system based on the total number of dinosaurs they were supposed to have, as opposed to tracking the total number of dinosaurs they actually had.  It was only when they calibrated the program without a predetermined limit that they realized that the dinosaurs actually were breeding and the situation was a lot more dire than they originally thought.  The CR stuff has been kinda like that.

I don't really know what all of this means, and I think that's why I never finished the original post.  I really want to resolve everything with the helicopter flying me off the island and away from all of the people-eating craziness.  I believe that one day I'll get to that part of the story, but I won't be around to 'blog about it when I do.  And, given everything that this post is about, I think I'm okay with that.  I don't need to have a neat little story arc that works itself out in a predictable way.  I can exist in the middle, where everything is up in the air and genetically engineered killing machines may jump out of the bushes at any moment.  That's just life, I guess.

An Open Letter to All of My Ex-Girlfriends (Or Whatever We Were)

Dear All of My Ex-Girlfriends.

For many years now, I have operated with the assumption that you all meet together on a weekly basis in some secret location (it probably changes every week) to talk about what a stupid jerk I am and how much you hate me.  At least, if you don't all physically meet in one location, you've started a Facebook group or are planning to write a collaborative-effort book or something.  There are many reasons for my belief in this, not least of which is the obviously sweet group-rate discount that would accompany a membership so vast.  But I think I might have thought up a couple more reasons why I believe this to be the case.

First of all, most of you seemed so angry and hurt when we broke up (or fizzled out, or burst into flames, or whatever you want to call it) that it just makes sense to me that you would somehow gravitate toward each other and be able to deal with the pain better by  not having to go through it alone; a kind of a support-group, if you will: find enough people who have been or are going through the same thing you are and build a sort of family out of it that helps you work through your emotions.

Second, as you probably learned throughout the course of our dating-relationship, I'm something of a paranoid individual in the first place and a secret committee of all my exes just plays well to that part of my brain.  I like to picture myself as Batman (again, something you probably picked up along the way) scrolling through a super-computer of his rogue's gallery and all your mugshots and bios, strengths and weaknesses, current and/or last known whereabouts, etc. in the event that I end up in a face-off with you again.

Third, finally, and more seriously, I think I tend to picture you guys like this because I'm selfish.  Not only do I regard most (if not all) of you in an antagonistic sense, I think of myself as some kind of innocent bystander who just happened to get caught up in something he didn't understand and can't really be held responsible for that unintentionally didn't work out and has now become some weird, female-driven conspiracy as a result.  I never set out to hurt any of you.  Honest, I really didn't.  Whether you believe me or not, it's the truth. 

But it's also the truth that I did hurt a number of you, and rather than face that truth and ask for mercy and help or anything at all, really, I usually shuffled the blame off on the circumstances and shrugged my shoulders because... well, honestly, because I didn't know what else to do.  At the time, things didn't seem to be working out, and "things not working out" was like a death sentence to me.  The fear I feel from watching my parents "not work out" for the majority of my life has driven me to chop the head off anything I thought was heading in that direction.  It's basically crucifying someone for someone else's crimes.  That's a shitty and horrible thing to do to a person.  I'm sorry I did it to you.

I wish that there was something I could do to fix the damages I've done over the years.  I should probably offer to pick up the tab for next week's dinner-meeting or whatever, but a.) I couldn't pay it if I wanted to and b.) I assume that part of your nefarious scheme is to run up a huge tab in my name anyhow.  I guess I just wanted you all to know that I'm not the heartless pig you probably think I am.  I still remember all the promises I went back on and all the stupid things I said to try and minimize the damage and I still feel guilty for all of it.  You probably think I deserve to and, heck, maybe I do.  Maybe this is just another reason for you guys to keep meeting up like you do. 

But for whatever it's worth, however badly I screwed up with you, I really am trying to get better.  I really am looking for ways to make amends and I really am trying to make sure that your membership doesn't keep growing.  Some days I feel like I'm a failure on all accounts, some days I don't.  But I really am trying. I hope you believe me.

So on that note, and in lieu of saying something cheesy and trite, I'll thank you for your time and bid you farewell.  "The LORD grant that you may find rest, each of you in the house of her husband!"

Sincerely,

Pairsh Wiggins

Priorities

Normally, I would make a huge deal about the whys and wherefores about the priorities I'm trying to set in my life because it's always easier to talk about what's important than it is to actually work things out that way.  I thought that, instead, I would try making a list of what ought/I want to be the things in my life that matter enough for me to be working on and systematically checking off as "done."  Plus, I need to start getting ready to go to work soon, so I don't have time to bore your socks off about the philosophical ramifications of being a man of principle.  So here goes.

First thing of importance to me is getting Bryan and Claire's wedding present together and having it ready for them before they get married in two weeks.  I'm notoriously bad about starting projects that I don't finish ("...he typed as he stared guiltily at the stack of half-made art lying like a dead pet in his closet...") and, for once in my life, I'm going to give myself a deadline and work a little bit every day so that I can hit it.  The wedding is April 2nd, so I don't think it's unreasonable to expect to have everything together and in working order by the end of the month.

Second, I am going to stay committed to my Celebrate Recovery stuff.  In similar fashion to the wedding present, I'm going to work a little bit every day at covering the material for the study and having it ready on time.  I'm not going to wait until I have a full day off to get it all done in one sitting and I'm not going to just let life beat me up between Thursdays.  I am going to work this stuff out if it kills me.

Third, I got a notice in the mail last week that I've been cleared to take my real estate license examination and I have until August 22 to do so.  I went through an online service provided by the brokerage I'm attached to and was given, shall we say, an abbreviated education sufficient to get me through the certification materials, but nothing in the ballpark of "extensive."  I have been assured, and am continuing to operate on good faith, that leasing apartments is nowhere near as complex as selling houses, so the need for me to retain all of the information covered by typical real estate license education classes is extremely diminished.  Thus, the monetary cost and time table difference between what I went through versus what people looking to get into home sales go through was significantly reduced, but I still feel unsure that I could pass the exam if I were to take it today.  I purchased materials to help prepare me, but up until now, I've been kinda dragging my feet about studying.  I don't exactly have a track record of studiousness, but I'm absolutely confident in my ability to appropriate information given in such clear formatting as the study materials I have in my possession.  There's no reason I can't spend three weeks or so covering the material and get to a place where I feel like I know enough to pass my licensing exam.  I am going to work steadily on this a little bit at a time until the wedding present is complete and then hit the thing with a full head of steam once I get over that hurdle.

Lastly, (I have more, but I still need to shower before work) I've been asked by my church to condense my life story down to a five minute video for use as part of a 25-year-anniversary celebration.  I'm not the most concise person in the world, so it feels a little overwhelming to try and whittle my life down to a five minute display.  I almost feel like an interpretive-dance montage would suit me better.  Regardless, it's something I've been asked to do, something I've committed to doing, and something I feel like could be useful  in the lives of other people.  I haven't really done anything solid on it yet (even though I was asked almost a month ago), so I feel kinda guilty for putting it off.  I need to start making time to work on it.  Like, this week.

That's it for now.  I've got more, but like I said, I gotta go get ready for work.  I guess my selfish desire is to be more motivated by actually stating, in clear language, what goals I want to work toward and how soon I want to accomplish them.  My desire for others is to challenge you to come up with your own goals and figure out whether what you're doing with all your time and money is putting you any closer to achieving them.  I know that, for me, it's easy to talk about all the things I'm gonna start doing later and really difficult to turn off my computer and go do them.

Ciao...

The 75% Rule

I mentioned last time that I've been going through a 12-step program at my church and I had my second real, "sit down and answer the questions" small group meeting tonight.  Among the reasons stated in the last post, part of the reason I haven't written much lately is because the material we're covering in my small group is very emotionally intense and I've been getting my tear-your-living-guts-out-and-painfully-expose-yourself-to-others fix through that.  I still kind of hate the idea of sitting in a group of people with "real problems," because to do so is basically admitting by association that I am one of them; that I belong there; that, somehow, my problems really are as bad as I've always feared them to be.

Even though it's only been a few weeks, I've stuck to the process pretty faithfully and it's not totally without reward.  I started going to the open group stuff at the first of the year and realized two things pretty early on.  One, even though it feels like every molecule in my body is screaming out against my being there throughout the entirety of the program, I always leave being glad that I went.  Two, I always realize something about myself or my situation(s) in life that I wouldn't have stumbled across on my own had I not been there.  I've never felt like it was a mistake for me to have gone and I've always left feeling more enlightened about (or, at least, better adjusted to) my circumstances.  Tonight was no exception and I wanted to take a few minutes before I go to bed to reflect on something that dawned on me mid-meeting.

I am, for those unaware, not an athlete.  With the exception of my dad signing me up for little league, I never played sports, I don't watch sports and the idea of doing so holds absolutely no interest to me in the slightest.  I would literally rather slam my hand in a door than watch a football game.  Literally.  I reiterate the point because most people think I'm being hyperbolic or facetious when I say that, but I would honestly be more intrigued by a Discovery channel show about the artificial insemination of cattle than anything including and/or pertaining to The Final Four (a reference, itself, that I'm not entirely sure I get.  I think it's college basketball, but I genuinely don't know [or care]).  One of the main reasons I've never had any interest in sports is because I'm not interested in doing anything that I am not immediately, on some level, good at.  If I don't have an inherent aptitude for something, if I have to spend any time at all working to grasp the fundamentals or, particularly in the area of sports, working to get my body into the proper condition to be able to do whatever it is I'm trying to do, I will have gotten bored and quit long before they get to the part about explaining the rules.

I'm especially bad when it comes to practice.  In fact, I don't even like the philosophical concept of "practice."  I don't want to practice.  I just want to do.  I despise repetition, and how would one go about describing the acts of running drills and ironing out plays without using the word "repetitive?"  Don't make me start over and do the exact same thing again.  If I'm just going to do it again, why did I do it the first time?  Let's get the thing done and move on to something else.

Tonight, I realized that the thing inside me that makes me feel this way is the same thing that berates me with guilt and shame over my own past mistakes and failures.  There's a voice in my head that I call "The Perfectionist Little Shit" (let's call it the P.L.S. for brevity's sake) that screams at me for everything I've ever done wrong.  I screwed this thing up or I ruined that opportunity and I can't ever go back and make it right.  It was the P.L.S. that was with me the day that I "ruined" my cousin's wedding at 12 years of age by flubbing the wedding march on the piano after having only two weeks to learn and memorize it.  The P.L.S. still reminds me of that time I didn't tell my grandfather the truth, and concludes, based on my every other failure to disclose any sort of information, that I am a liar and have been since time immemorial.  The P.L.S. is constantly carrying on about all the horrible things that will happen whenever I finally mess everything up (as, in the mind of the P.L.S., I am inevitably bound to do), and is the voice I struggle so hard to shut off before I can finally relax enough to sleep at night.  According to the P.L.S. I will never be happy because I am going to be single forever because I will always ruin every relationship I ever try to have.

Tonight, though, the P.L.S. was the one who screwed up for a change.  I was listening to some of the other guys in the group share their struggles and admit their own fears about recovery.  Because confidentiality is so important to the recovery process, I can't repeat what was said, but I can tell you that the P.L.S. spoke up and started criticizing someone else in a way that was completely untrue and uncalled for.  Not out loud, mind you, but in my head, I heard the P.L.S. condemn another man for not being hard enough on himself for his failure.  The P.L.S. believed that this man should have been sorrier and more self-deprecating for his misbehavior, and that's when I caught on to the lie that the P.L.S. is based on and operates out of.  The lie I caught on to is the same thing that I spoke on before: that if you haven't done it perfectly, you've wasted your time; that if you can't get it right right away, you shouldn't bother.  And, although it doesn't change my attitude toward sports in the least, it's important to me that this be recognized as a lie.

I'm not entirely sure how it took me 28 years to realize it, but tonight I came to understand that one defective component of a thing DOES NOT make the whole thing worthless.  Having a bad spot on a piece of fruit doesn't automatically translate into throwing out the entire piece of fruit (at least, for most people).  You cut away the affected portion and eat the rest.  So this is where I came up with the 75% rule.  The 75% rule says that 75% good is still pretty good.  In fact, it's mostly good.  If, out of $1,000, I give $100 to charity, save $100, invest $550 and spend the rest on junk I don't need, I did a lot of good with my money.  I didn't waste $1,000, and I certainly didn't waste the portion I invested.  I wasted what I wasted, which was only a portion of it, but I put the rest to good use.  I can make the statement "I handled that money well" without having to make any disclaimers or qualifications or beat myself up for blowing part of it on useless stuff.

I don't know how many of you will be surprised to hear it, but contrary to popular opinion, I am not a perfect person.  In the last two weeks, I've downloaded porn three times.  It was stupid for me to do it and, in hindsight, I really wish I hadn't, but I also did a lot of other really good things and I would diminish those by not acknowledging that, on the whole, I had a pretty good couple of weeks.  It doesn't make pornography any less disgusting and it doesn't excuse my choices or behaviors, but the 75% rule still applies.  Honestly, I wish I could live up to the standards that the P.L.S. tries to hold me to, but I can't.  Even the Bible says that.  As it is, I have to do the best I can with what I have and let grace fill in the gaps.

There's a part of me that worries about whether or not 75% of this is worthwhile material, or if 75% of you even read 75% of the way through it, but I hope this idea helps you in the way I feel like it's helping me.  I love you guys dearly (75% of the time, anyway).  Goodnight.

Out of the Silence He Speaks

Greetings from the wild blue yonder!  It's been a while since I've done any real writing and I'm eager to get back to it.  My last couple of posts came from a fairly down place and, though I must apologize for dropping off at such a bleak moment, I got really wrapped up in using the month of February to put some vitality back in my life.  I spent much of the time converting my apartment/living room into a miniature art studio, expanding my collection of tools and materials, building an easel and, to a somewhat diminished degree, working on moving ahead with my real estate license.  I also started attending a twelve-step program through a ministry in my church called "Celebrate Recovery," which has kinda filled in the remaining gaps of my disposable time and energy.  So I'm sorry for not being as disciplined with my 'blogging, but I'm not sorry for what I've been doing instead.

I just got back from my friend Seth's wedding and it was a beautiful thing.  As with most occasions dealing with other people and their significant events, I spent a lot of time thinking about myself and internalizing the process.  I spent time thinking about how many of my friends have been or are getting married lately and how weird it will be when it's finally my turn; how unfair it is to be a recovering alcoholic in a place with an open bar; how apropos it is to use a wedding banquet as an illustration for heaven.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not so narcissistic that I wasn't able to focus on celebrating the idea of marriage as a concept, or my friend Seth's in particular, I just tend to internalize everything, and weddings are no exception.

I think, too, it has a lot to do with wearing a tie.  Ties, as far as I'm concerned, are a horrible invention and I wholeheartedly refuse to ever be married or buried in one.  They're difficult to coordinate, uncomfortable, and in the grand scheme of things, utterly useless.  I tried to think about how many times I've worn a tie in the last five or ten years and I could probably count them on one hand.  In fact, I can only remember five occasions on which I've worn a tie since I graduated high school and three of them were funerals.

I think it's good for me to reflect on these kinds of things, though, because it forces my memory to reach back further than it typically operates.  In fact, I've been thinking a lot about my memories over the last week or so because today marks four years since "The Calamity" happened.  I won't go into it here because I don't have the time or energy, but basically, my life came apart at the seams and I washed up in the lobby of Hill Country Bible Church.  I don't want to characterize it as some magical day where my life completely changed, but it was certainly the start of something I wouldn't have believed to be possible if it hadn't happened to me.  

If you'd told me then that I'd be where I am now (not only back in school, but graduated, sober, etc.) I would've thought you were joking.  And not just in the way that everybody who says that kind of thing means it.  I mean I really wouldn't have believed that it was possible for the kind of change you were describing to actually happen in my life.  Back then, I lived my life the way that people sometimes describe patients with terminal diseases responding to finding out they're sick: it was like my life was just a foregone conclusion, so nothing really mattered.  I didn't have intimate friends or people around me who would speak the truth to me, even if I didn't want to hear it.  I didn't have anybody close to me who really saw my life as valuable or important at all.  I just kinda did whatever I wanted to do or whatever seemed to be good to me at the time and didn't really ask myself how my actions or behaviors would affect anybody, least of of all me.

It's weird to think back on those times because it seems like a whole different life ago, like some weird, alien brother of mine who died but still gets talked about a lot.  But I like it.  I like being a guest at a really fancy wedding without an RSVP.  I like that celebrating isn't really a celebration unless it's shared with other people.  I like having moments that are dedicated to building an altar and planting a flag in the ground as a time of change and new commitment.  I like remembering that the person I was is not who I am and that there will come a day when who I am is just as distantly gone as the other guy.  I like calling to mind that the Bible describes the whole of the human affair as beginning with your parents' divorce and ending with the wedding of the Man who loves you most in life.

I've done truly horrible things in my life that I extremely ashamed of.  Perhaps, another time, I will describe them in some detail.  But my life exists as it is today solely through the compassion of others whose trash I am not fit to take out, and yet I am invited to sit among their guests and eat at their table.  It is a lesson in grace for which I am thankful to have taken part in today and will forever remain eternally grateful.

Seth, Claudia... Mazel Tov!

The Marshmallow Experiment

If you haven't seen this video yet, watch it now.  Like, right now.  I'll still be here when you get back.

Done?  Okay, good.  Yesterday's post was pretty heavy and I feel like I need to balance it out by at least starting this one with something light.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not done processing through the fallout, but I'm at least in a bit better mood than I have been for a few days, and I'm ready to get on to something less serious and dense.

I saw this video last night after I got done 'blogging and it gave me a lot to think about in light of recent events.  For one thing, it basically sums up the entirety of Wednesday night for me in a few short minutes.  I'm not sure which kid I looked like most at which moments, but between driving to three different grocery stores and pacing their beer aisles for 20 to 30 minutes a piece, all while actively talking to myself, I'm sure the expression on my face was more than slightly similar to several of them.

Even though it's a couple years old, I'd never seen it before.  A webcomic I frequent talked about it in a recent podcast, referencing behavior in their own kids and saying they have no concept for the future.  That idea is funny to me, like every little kid is sort of like that guy from "Memento," constantly stuck in the present with no ability to connect their current situation to any sort of meaningful experience.  I thought about kids as caricatures of the adults who created them, or maybe even self-parodies of the adults they would become.

It's cute and funny to watch little kids struggle through the inner-turmoil of delayed gratification, but it's something else entirely to think of those same children, years down the road, seated in front of a beer or a cigarette or a crazy ex-girlfriend who cheated on them.  There's something innately hilarious about the idea that a child would suffer such anguish for something as trivial and cheap as a marshmallow, but how many times have I allowed myself to run the gamut of depression over a job I hated or a girl I didn't really love or some possession that I didn't have the money for.  I think the truth is less that children can't comprehend the future and more that adults just develop a taste for something other than sweets.

I guess that's the thing that makes me sickest about lapsing.  In total, I went off the radar for less than 36 hours and I was only out maybe $40 by the end of it.  Admittedly, I don't exactly have $40 laying around to waste right now, but this is coming from a person who spent $200 a bar tab for three people in less than four hours.  In short, I've done a lot worse.  The thing I'm really kicking myself for, though, is not just how easy it is for me to buy in to the lie that I'll be happy if I get whatever it is I think I want, but how often that temptation shows up in my life and how often I fall for it.  I don't stop to think that what I want may not be good for me.  I don't consider how often and easily "things" will break and how nobody ever cares about your job as much as you do and that people will always let you down in some way or another.  It's like the adult inside me dies for a minute and all that's left is a kid and his marshmallow.

I dunno... it's a cute video and I like it, but it made me think a lot.  Just thought I'd share it with you guys.  G'night, all.  Here's hoping for a better tomorrow for all of us.

- P -

The Last Few Days

Somewhere between being totally out of practice and not wanting to write about the only things going on in my life, it looks like January is going to go down as one of those "two-post" times where there's a traffic spike mid-month when I actually do post, but everything else is just two or three people checking to see if I've died or something.  For the record, I am not dead.  I just smell a little funny.

There's not a really great segue for it and I don't have some plucky lead-in, so I guess I'll just go ahead and say it: I lapsed last week.  After one year, one month, 28 days, 22 hours (and some change) without a drink, I got a running start and jumped off the wagon.  I wish I could say there was some huge difficulty in my life that pushed me over the edge, but there really wasn't.  It was a combination of a bunch of little things that just kinda caught up with  me, I guess.  It's kinda like the way a tornado works.  There have to be certain and specific weather conditions in place for a funnel cloud to actually form, and even more certain and specific conditions for it to touch down, more specific ones to perpetuate it, etc.  Everything lines up in just a certain way and, suddenly, the sky's all dark, the wind is blowing every which way, and this massive storm is now ripping through everything in its path and cutting a swath of destruction through what used to be a really nice neighborhood.

I remember actually seeing the aftermath of a tornado up close when I was in high school.  I was at a church camp in Nebraska and there had been one that cut right through the middle of the campground.  What used to be this really nice, heavily wooded path had a weird, ominous feel because of all  these big, beautiful pine trees that had been knocked over only a few days before and the camp hadn't had the man-power to get it cleaned up.  It was crazy how odd it looked to see all of these more or less healthy trees uprooted and lying on the ground, like my brain could only handle the thought of one or two old and rotting stumps and wasn't prepared to see this instead.  Also, just thinking about the strength of something that could tear down that many trees was kinda scary.  I've grown up in Texas all my life and have "survived" a number of tornado warnings/watches, but I still don't think I can really wrap my head around the idea of a spinning cloud that rotates with a wind speed anywhere between 100 and 300 miles per hour.

Regardless, I didn't sit down to write about tornadoes.  I guess, ultimately, my point in all of this is that I've pretty much spent most of the last year studying/battling my drinking as a phenomenological object and not really examining (or, at the very least, doing anything meaningful to try to affect change in) the factors that created it.  I can sit and talk about how I've used my drinking in the past to punish myself or to self-sabotage my life, but I can't really tell you why.  For one thing, I don't really have any good reasons as to why, but for another I don't really want to.  I don't want to admit to living a life that isn't meticulously planned and diligently executed.  I don't want to say that I have a drinking problem because I have a living problem.  I don't want to have to look people in the eyes and tell them that I made mistakes that are responsible for their pain and I don't have anything to give them to make up for it except an apology.  I don't want to have to come to the table and admit that I can't make any promises about who I am and what I'll do because I'm weak and unpredictable.  I don't want people to know that my word is next to worthless.  I want to act in a trustworthy manner and have people like me.  I just don't know how to stop doing and feeling the exact opposite.

I took my last drink Thursday night around 10:30.  I'm not sure why the time is important, but I remember during the first go-round feeling it to be a very vital and necessary detail.  I feel discouraged and sad that I fell down this way, but as my friend Cliff told me Friday morning when I called to 'fess up to it, I can't really change what happened.  I can only start where I am with what I have in front of me and work my way out from there.  I don't have any excuses and I'm not really even sure they would make much difference if I did.  I will say this, though: I need to be really careful not to take my sobriety for granted.  I may have worked really hard to get where I was before I kicked it all over, but I didn't earn it and I certainly don't deserve it.  For someone with a drinking problem, sobriety is a gift and a blessing and I never should have thought of it as anything else.

I'm going to try to make February a more consistent 'blog month, but who knows what will happen.  I'm closing January on a good note, though, and I can be proud and find hope in that.  I love you all.  See you 'round...

- P -

Hello, 2011, You're Right On Time...

...three weeks after the actual occurrence.  God, what a terrible way to ring in the new year.  Better late than never, I suppose, but jeez... it's like I graduated from college and forgot how time works.  Some days I feel as though the best I can ever hope for is to apply direct pressure and hope that time doesn't bleed out completely before the paramedics arrive.  I guess this is what all those old people were always trying to tell me about enjoying my youth while I have it, but I can hardly see how this could be enjoyable.

Regardless, it is a new year and with it come new opportunities.  Over the course of the last month, I've had to slough through a death in the family, the holidays, and moving, three of life's biggest stresses that I can think of off the top of my head.  Despite feeling myself to be behind or at some kind of disadvantage for having squandered the first three weeks of the year, I'm not going to apologize or make excuses for it.  I spent three weeks relaxing and getting settled in to my new apartment, sort of taking a break and recovering from a really hectic month of December, but I'd really like to keep from making it four.

I shaved my head on Monday night as part of a cleansing ritual for the new year.  I hate making resolutions and trying to convince myself that I'm turning over a new leaf and everything is going to change and be different effective immediately, because a.) it's never true and b.) it's such a waste of energy.  There's little use for me to talk about what I'm going or ought to do, because it never seems to turn the corner into actual behavior.  I feel like shaving my head is a good physical metaphor because it's kind of a down-to-business action for me.  I have a lot of hair that takes time and effort to manage (unless I'm going for "The Lyle Lovett," which still requires a nightly shower and sleeping on it just so to come out right), so cutting it all off is kind of a reminder to stop fussing around about the aesthetics of my life and get down to action.  I dunno, maybe it's dumb, but I like it and it works for me.

Also, I meant to say something about the idea of resolutions.  I always scoff at making resolutions because everybody always makes the same ones: I'm going to quit smoking, lose weight, exercise more, etc.  I hate anything that's pre-packaged or expected.  But I always seem to end up making them, because I always think "Why not?  It's just as good a time as any to <fill in the blank with whatever thing I'm trying to do/quit doing>."  But there's always this slump that happens toward the end of January where it's been three weeks and I've either abandoned the willpower necessary to not do whatever it is I was trying to quit or lost traction on the new thing I was trying to start and only ended up doing once or twice.  I'm a pretty easily discouraged person anyway, so being confronted with my own inability to make a decision and stick with it pretty much guarantees a week of puttering around my apartment in a bathrobe and eating nothing but carbohydrates and simple sugars.

I've been thinking a lot, though, about the principles around which my life is centered, and I think that's why resolutions don't work for me: I'm expecting some out-of-the-blue decision to compensate for a lack of discipline in whatever area of my life I'm trying to change.  I want to chart my success at a 45-degree angle of growth (or better) and not have to experience any sort of setback or overcome any kind of difficulty.  I feel like I should start developing better principles in my life, ones that I work hard to live by and afford myself enough grace to fail and be okay when I don't.  So what if I don't floss every day or lose as much weight as I wanted by my target date?  Who's going to punish me for my failure?  What difference does it really make?  If I floss more than twice a month for the entire next year, that'll still be more consistent than I ever have been in my life.

I saw The King's Speech recently and if you haven't seen it, you should.  It's about King George VI working to overcome a stutter in the years leading up to World War II.  Besides being a great film with superb actors in it, I really like the idea of a stammering king.  There's something attractive to me about seeing someone wrestle with what it is about their lot in life that qualifies and/or disqualifies them from being effective in it, I think maybe because of what I just described about myself.  It's hard for me to remember, sometimes, that I am the sole authority when it comes to making decisions in my life.  There is a way that is right and good and godly, to be sure, but I'm the one with his finger on the button.  I'm the one who has to decide what today is going to look like.  I'm the only one with any control over how orderly and productive I am.  And if I'm not as productive as somebody else thinks I should be, or if they think I did it all wrong, then to hell with them.  I don't know why I can't hold that thought in my head longer than five minutes at a time, but sometimes it's good to be reminded.

I'm back, baby... whatever that means and whatever it looks like from here, it is what it is and it will be what it will be.  Until next time... Tata!

- P -

I'm a Terrible Rule Follower

Rules are a lot like fruit juicers.  Everybody thinks they need a new one, but nobody ever really uses theirs.  I realize that as soon as a statement like this gets made, somebody immediately stands up and says "But I use mine every day!" and somebody else should punch that guy.  I've never met anyone who actually owned a fruit juicer that wasn't stored on a high shelf under several layers of dust.

Whatever.  My point is that rules seem like great and useful things until it comes around to actually adopting them and sticking with them.  Yes, we all know one or two freaks who live by some rigid code that dictates everything from which direction their bed has to face before they can relax enough to sleep in it to how many brush strokes they use to comb their back hair.  Those people are clinically insane and not to be trusted, as some of them may be serial killers.

Just like with fruit juicers (with exception of the crazies) I've never met anybody who really followed all the rules they'd made for themselves.  I was raised with a fairly high degree of cynicism in relation to people who start off sentences with phrases like "This year, I'm going to try..." or "You know, I think I ought to..." and, looking back, I can understand why.  It seems like there's always some new genius idea or fail-safe plan lurking around every corner, waiting for some dope to come along who's trying to change their lives, only for it to rob them blind of their time, money, and energy.  I can't tell you how many self-help/educational books I've purchased with the intent of learning a new skill or trying a different approach to relationships or finances, only to have it stare at me from my bookshelf like a neglected girlfriend I made a bunch of promises to, resenting me for my lack of dedication.

I read someone else's 'blog post today that brought this all to the forefront for me.  So far, I count 11 of 14 rules that I'm actively breaking, even as I write this, and I didn't even bother to look at parts one or two of the three-part series to see what else I'm not doing right.  Even though I don't think it was the author's intention to do so, I hate being condescended to, and it's hard not to feel like that's exactly what's happening when you're told that you've screwed something up completely from even before you started.

Okay, I lied.  I did read the other two.  I suck at this.

I guess the thing that gets to me about it is that everything she says makes complete sense and I don't know why I didn't realize it before.  Worse still is the fact that, realizing the truth of it, I STILL BREAK ALL THE RULES!!!  And it's not like this is a fluke occurrence in my life.  Everywhere you look, I'm going back on all the things I said I was going to do or that I believed were important to me.  Heck, it's been almost three weeks and I still haven't gotten around to that dopey "Why Jurassic Park Is Like Christianity" post I said I was going to write.

The aha moment for me in all of this is why it's so easy to want to fall back on a checklist, primarily because I don't want to have to think about what I'm doing.  It's hard to adopt principles.  It's easy to make rules.  If I can measure my own efforts against somebody else's template for success, I can pat myself on the back and feel better knowing that I'm doing the right things.  The difficulty is coming to grips with the fact that I'm not a very disciplined person; that I don't know everything I need to know yet; that my wants are all screwed up and I'm probably gonna suck at this for a while before things get any better.

But it doesn't do any good to stop pushing myself.  I made up my budget for the month before I went to bed last night.  I'm going to make breakfast and clean the kitchen and go to the bank today.  I'm not going to crumble just because I can't do everything right all the time.  I can still make a difference in how things turn out and it's time to go get started on it.

Later all.

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

I'm back in Austin after almost a week in Dallas.  I can't remember the last time I was there for such a long stretch.  I think probably the summer before my last year of school.  Which would've made it the last time I saw Grandma alive.  Interesting.

I'm not gonna post much today.  Honestly, I'm still pretty wiped out from the trip and, hopefully, I'll be in better shape tomorrow.  It feels like the last couple of weeks have just been one big, emotionally-draining experience after another and I feel like I need a day-long nap or something to get my head back together.  Well, that, and pretty much everything I ate over the last six days was somehow cooked with bacon and covered in salt.  It's probably gonna take me close to a week for the food coma to wear off.

I will say, though, that it was good to have some time away from work and responsibility and just be around my family to navigate the thing together.  We're a hard bunch to be around at times, but we've got each other and sometimes, that's all that counts.

I'ma go nap before work now.  I'll talk at you guys tomorrow. 

Laters.