Struggles

I really like drinking, guys.

I also like being healthy.

I also like smoking cigarettes.

I also like being able to run a few miles without feeling like my lungs will explode.

….

These interests do not exactly conflate well. Since I moved, I’ve been pretty good… well… I *was* doing… good…. (sorry about that grammatical error but my desire for symmetry prevailed). And then I made friends.

Not that I’m ungrateful.

The group I’ve found has been welcoming and wonderful, and they make me feel as at-home as I could, while still being 5 states removed. They are hilarious, and creative, and delightful, and completely in-step with the kind of people I cherish most. The downside, is that ugly proclivity of mine has raised its head once again, like an unwelcome blemish on my self-control’s carefully curated facade. I spent the bulk of last week socializing, imbibing, and regretting the next morning as I struggled to re-hydrate, a task ultimately futile when you pour that next cocktail less than 24 hours after the last one. It’s a frustrating, constant battle for me, to keep that balance. I’d like to think that everyone has that problem, but somehow I reallllllyyyy don’t think that’s the case. And after 6 straight nights of drinking (my general goal is max 3), you’d think I’d be more than ready for a break. But it’s an enticing routine that is so hard to break once it’s established. At least for me. The first… 1-2 days intended as sober days are… they are more difficult to accomplish than I like to admit. And I know why, but I hate why. It’s because the change in my mood is positive, with alcohol. It always is. I equate it with a good time, however that manifests. Coming off of it, that inevitable drop in mood, is hard to deal with. Even when I recognize the pattern, it’s so hard to break…

Maybe I could chock it up to another “routine” of mine: For every 3 weeks that I’m on “good” behavior, I’ll have 2 weeks where I’m “bad.” These labels are completely self-ascribed and probably a little harsh, but I can’t seem to keep a lid on my discipline. It’s like an unruly teenager hellbent on getting laid in a 10-year old Honda Civic. Ugh. GOD. Case in point: last night. I couldn’t sleep, my insomnia most likely an aftereffect of a week’s worth of fermentation sliding through my system. I could have worked on my first ever conference presentation, I could have cleaned my shower, I could have finished this fucking blog post. What did I do instead? Said “FUCK IT,” took a bunch of shots of vodka and furiously danced around my apartment to Less Than Jake, growing more homesick with each passing Gainesvillian lyric, until I collapsed, finally spent. I awoke this morning, not with a hangover, but a head-bang-over… because once again my tolerance is creepin’ on up there, as my distending liver swells my omnipresent lil’ gut.

My friends back home used to joke that my catch phrase should be “don’t worry about it,” accompanied by a mischievous grin. I guess it’s still relevant though, since my friends here have finally discovered that I… I am the worst/best/worst again influence you will ever have. I’m almost thirty goddamn years old, and yet I still make the worst decisions sometimes. Jebus… at what point do you accept certain aspects of your personality, instead of vainly tilting at windmills, Don Quixote style?

Current Jam: “Overrated – Everything is” LTJ (classic rock is soooo outdated; though, in truth, I’ll *never* consider sex to be “overrated”)

And this…. because we’re allll just tryin’ to turn hard work into chicken nuggets, amiright?

BEST. WEEK. EVER. And Horoscope stuff – DEAL WITH IT.

Last week…. damn y’all, last week was fucking AWESOME. I had all the bases covered: feeling good, looking good. Kicking ass at work, social butterflying for days, making some money. Got lots of positive attention. The only downside is I’ve barely carved out any time to write… which sucks, because when I don’t do that I end up ADD as hell. My ability to focus is thrust into hyper-difficult-drive, and I can’t keep a thought in my head, let alone follow a conversation. So tonight, god dammit, I said to myself, “SELF. GO. GO WRITE NOW.” And here we are guyz…. ok so,

I know, I know, I’m new age-y and dumb. I *KNOW*, now let’s move on. I treat horoscopes kinda like Tarot: no, they don’t tell the future. Yes, they are incredibly, ridiculously vague. But they give me shit to think about. They provide entrees into brain trains, brain trains which force necessary introspection, and in my personal opinion introspection is a good thing. It fosters self-awareness, and occasionally, change. So. Two things:

1: My horoscope for today read like this: “Do you see yourself the same way others do? At today’s deceptive Sun-Neptune opposition, you may want to borrow someone else’s high opinion of you. Your so-called flaws can seem distorted and magnified—yet they are virtually invisible to others. So why the heck are you fixating on them, Pisces? Be stern with yourself and stop this time-wasting habit. It’s just a way of procrastinating so you don’t have to own your greatness. You’ve been busted. Now cut it out! The world needs your compassionate heart to shine.” (Aaaand obligatory plug: See yours here).

Yeah: despite coming off a stellar week, I felt a little low today, a little off. I was distracted, frustrated that I was so distracted, and I felt anxious… and since I’ve successfully kept that anxiety at bay since I’ve been in PA (like a victorious lion tamer, giddily keeping that lion (Baby?) in the corner (oh wait no, I’m not supposed to do that)), I felt even more anxious. I was scared it was coming back… but eventually it passed. Running helps. I guess that’s something I’ll just have to continue to deal with. Like any stubborn disease it may never ever truly go away… Ugh, anyways…

2: For all you with way better things to do than read up on astrology stuff, Venus has been in retrograde lately (specifically, from July 25 through September 8). Ok so, what the eff does that mean, L’s? Well, you can read extensively about it here, but the gist is this: Venus retrogrades, supposedly, are periods of intense reflection, specifically regarding the worth of your relationships, past, present, even new ones. As my buddy Fran would argue, this can cause exes to come back in droves, for better or worse. Everyone’s wrapped up in their own shit, re-analyzing how they’ve acted, how they’re acting, and sometimes that manifests in people from your past making a re-appearance, even ones you never thought you’d hear from again.

And so, tonight I got an apology… one that I needed. One that I had been waiting for, for a very, very long time. Tears ran down my cheeks before I was finished reading it… because… well, because that particular person hurt me so badly… and I had resigned myself to never, ever getting closure. I had finally, finally, released that aching need. And now, here it was, completely unexpected and without any pretense, no preamble. I won’t relay the entirety of the convo, out of respect for privacy, but the one line that stuck with me was, “I hope you find a really cool person, because you were really that cool.”

*Takes bow.*

Thanks, man. I hope so, too.

Current Quote: “Everything will be ok, whether you like it or not.”  -My new PA uncle, Chip

Current Jam: “Whatcha got?” Red City Radio

Oh, and this: (Because my friends have the best senses of humor)

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