Sep 29, 2009

Understanding Sober

Anyone out there ever watched someone get sober?  I don't mean "right now, clean the chemicals outta your system" physically sober.  I am referring to the "whole body-mind-spirit priority makeover" when people basically reinvent themselves.  Or find themselves for the first time.  I think I am in it right now.

I quit smoking a couple six weeks ago, and yeah, I've cheated a few times when we go out, but basically, lifestyle-wise, I am really a nonsmoker now.  So there that is.  Pat me on the back.  Except I don't think I've done the hard work yet.  Kicking the physical habit of smoking was accomplished with the help of Chantix and the realization that I'm getting too old for this shit.  So I quit.  Bf and I quit.  Done.  No longer smokers.

Now we have to figure out wtf is going on.  **snort**  Yeah, go ahead and laugh because it sounds like trite bullshit, but I am serious as a heart attack.  WTF is going on?  The last time my brain functioned without nicotine was 1990.  It's like starting over and learning how to be a grownup again, sans addiction.  And THAT is where I draw a parallel with watching someone get sober.  They act fucked up.  Yay for them, they're not drinking, so at least they're not gonna die today, but they DO act fucked up.  They don't know WHY they are acting that way.  They read the Big Book with religious fervor, and they cling to their sponsors and their meetings with their last shreds of sanity.  I think I get it now.

It's not that you want to drink, use, smoke, or (insert your addiction here) again.  You're so over that.  Your body and brain just don't know what the fuck to do without the substance.  Your whole lifestyle, personality, and meaning is bent and shaped by your addiction.  Sure, addicts know they need to steer clear of old friends and old haunts in order to maintain their sobriety, but that's not what I mean.  Everything... every act, every thought, every word, every motivation... my entire adult life has been ruled by cigarettes.  Subtly, yes, but ruled nonetheless.  Now that I no longer serve that master, I am at a loss.  I can't find focus or direction.  What now?

I feel like that newly-sober annoying freak without the "rock bottom" story.  I am uncomfortable in my own skin, in my own life.  I am angry and sad and empty and spazzed and freaked the fuck out all the time.  My fuse isthislong.  I will take your head off for no reason, and I won't even notice it's missing until hours later.  I want to cry all the time, sometimes.  I want to yell at someone because it really is satisfying right now.  I am waiting, sitting here, hoping and waiting for things to improve.  Where's the fucking magical revelation?  Why aren't the clouds parting and angel choirs singing?  Where's my reward?  I quit smoking, you assholes.  Yeah YOU.  The people who've been tsk-tsking at me my whole life, been telling my how disappointed you were in me, telling me how it was ruining my health (like that was a news flash).  I did what you, society, my doctor, my kids, and everyone else of the planet has been telling me to do:  I quit.  So where's my reward?  I'm tired of feeling like shit.  I'm tired to feeling like emotional scrambled eggs.  I am tired of being useless and mean to my family.  I am tired of not being able to control myself.

How about that irony?  Now that I had enough will power to quit smoking, I feel like I can't control myself.  More like, I have no control over my life.  I feel overwhelmed a lot.  Maybe, just maybe, I was a better person when I smoked?  Ever think of that?  Maybe it's worth trading 15 years of my life for sanity?  Quality versus quantity?  Don't worry, there's no rationalization there.  I'm not starting up again.  I'm just sayin'...  what if my brain chemistry and personality were better, more friendly, more organized, more fun, and clearer when I smoked?  I liked myself before.  I miss that.  I am tired of not liking me.

Sep 27, 2009

Stupid Wedding Shit

Yeah, so I'm sitting here googling "stupid wedding shit" while my bf plays guitar.  We went out tonight, at my insistence, and sang some horrid karaoke.  That's ok, cuz we ROCK at horrid karaoke.  So anyway, we put back a few drinks in celebration of our team's victory, and then I got bored and bugged bf about going out.  We changed shoes (cuz yeah, we are THAT classy) and we went up the street to our local karaoke shithole bar.  Except we kind of like the shithole, and they have great karaoke.

So there were were, singing, and we finally decided to retire the song we ALWAYS sing together.  Lest you think it's showtunes, I assure you, it's not.  We just retired it.  It's over.  One can only do so many renditions of "If I had $1,000,000" until it gets tired.  So it's retired.  We'll be working on a new song soon.  Stay tuned...

We cabbed it home, and now we're sitting in the living room while bf jams on his sweet Taylor that I got him for his birthday.  It is a gorgeous guitar.  Love it, and love that man.  He totally deserves a great guitar.  But now we're both hammered, and when I tried to tune my guitar, he was just obliviously playing his random made-up shit.  That's totally cool and stuff... I mean, that's what one DOES when one is hammered.  You just get lost in your music bliss and annoy the shit out of everyone else within earshot.  It's ok.  I've done it before.  It's all part of the circle of life and crap like that.  Karma is a bitch mistress.

So I'm sitting here googling "stupid wedding shit" to see if there's anything I forgot to obsess over for our upcoming wedding.  Yeah, you heard me right... the princess has found a new prince, and he's making an honest woman out of me.  Go figure.  I am so caught up in the minutiae that I brought home 3 different kinds of wedding card boxes for him to review.  Three.  Luckily we both liked the same one, so the other two are going back to the store tomorrow, but that is the low-level detail bullshit that I've been obsessing over.  Yup.  I guess I need something to do.  Tonight I worked on my I/E statements for my business, but that got old fast.  I need to shuffle through  the shoebox of receipts and put some order to the chaos.

Bright spot:  a couple of dudes at the bar tonight thought I was 26 and 30 (respectively), so hey, that's a bonus!  I guess I'm not falling apart at the seams like I thought.  I guess all that Olay is paying off.  I worship at the house of sunscreen and good moisturizer, in case you didn't know.  I don't want to look like a saddlebag with eyes when I'm 50.  Just sayin'...

So yeah, I'm about at headache level maximum with this guitar blasting in my ears.  He's RIGHT NEXT TO ME pounding the shit out of the poor strings.  I'm gonna try to entice him into the bedroom.  Wish me luck, and if anyone out there is an audiologist, please shoot me an email with your prices.  At this rate, I'm gonna need a hearing aid before I need eyeglasses.  Ciao baby!

Sep 22, 2009

WORLD PEACE! It's your duty!

Ha ha ha!  After many years of being shaken from sound sleep each morning by the jarring notes of some obnoxious alarm (and really, it never works, does it? There's always the snooze button...), I have found THE WAY to energetically raise myself from the dead each morning...  MORNING SEX!

Yeah, yeah, we've all had morning sex.  But you're not listening!  I am talking about DAILY morning sex as an alternative to the crapass alarm clock you want to throw across the room every morning.  No more hate, no more loathing, no more cursing the sunrise... just sheer, unadulterated morning sex.  Nothing fancy.  Some skin-on-skin to warm up from a deep sleep, then no-frills, just-pound-me, jesus-christ-this-feels-good caveman morning sex.  The modern couple's answer to the old fashioned quickie.

Oooooh yeah!  Maybe you'll cum, maybe you won't.  Who cares?  You have a hard cock pounding the bejezus out of you for at least the time it takes for the snooze button to reactivate your alarm.  Generally, that's about 10 minutes.

I think I've stumbled onto something.  I want to try an experiment...

All of you... everyone who reads this... have morning sex tomorrow.  Instead of popping out of bed like a piece of toast, I order you to hit snooze and languish beneath the sheets for 10 minutes with your lover.  I think I might possibly have stumbled upon the answer to world peace.  If everyone had sex every morning for 10 minutes, there would be no anger or hate or jealously.  We'd all be running around with "just got laid" grins on our faces.  Priceless!!!!!

Sleeping alone?  So the fuck what?  That's no excuse!  Get yourself off every morning before work.  See if that doesn't put a little spring in your step.

I'd love some feedback.  Let me know how your little "experiment" is going...

Sep 21, 2009

No quiero a leer en español

Yeah... so I was surfing around Blogger getting reacquainted with some of my old haunts. Is it just me, or is every other blog in Spanish?  Cripes.  They should sort the blogs by language so readers don't have to waste their time. Y sí, hablo español. Sin embargo, yo no quiero a leer acerca de telenovelas y problemas de emigración.  Me gustan tortas de carne asada.  Envíe por favor una receta de cocina.

Neener Neener

I called in sick today and had sex all morning. You went to work. I win.

Sep 20, 2009

Damn, I suck!

I don't really like who I've become since I quit smoking. Really. This isn't some addict's rationalization for starting up again. I have no plans to resume smoking. I just don't like my attitude or behavior since I quit. I am a bitch. I am mean to the people I love. I've been quit for over a month now, so this isn't "getting off the juice" crabbiness. It's not PMS. I am just a bitch, and I am kind of disappointed in myself. I am seeing old relationship behaviors emerge in me, and I don't like it. I have been nagging and yelling. ICK! Who wants to be with someone who nags and yells? Who wants to be with someone who makes your life less pleasant? Not me. I don't even want to be with myself. I'm not saying "I'm a bitch" like it's some badge of honor. I'm embarrassed. I didn't realize how angry and mean and unhappy I was until I quit smoking. This can't be the real me, can it?

Maybe it's like the people who are more fun when they're drinking? My baseline personality sucks, but damn, give me a cigarette and I'm the coolest chick on the plant. Go figure.

Sep 19, 2009

She's baaaaaaaaack

Yeah, so I took my attorney's advice and deleted all of my online accounts. Except I didn't. I let this one lie dormant for awhile. Everything else is gone. I have been feeling the need to write again. I still loathe my ex, but a lot has died down since I last blogged.

By a stroke of good luck, I discovered that my ex got a job. A quick phone call to the child support enforcement people, and some nice, fat garnishment checks started coming my way. ***siiiiighh*** that's the sound of me breathing out.

Moved to a new place. It has more bedrooms but waaay less storage space, so we're trying to adjust. The yard is great, and the kitchen is sublime. Cheers to new beginnings.

Got a part time job. It's doesn't pay the bills, but it helps.

Started my own business. It doesn't pay the bills, but it, too, helps.

Got engaged. Trying to scurry and pull this wedding off in December. Yeah, that's 3 months from now. I'd have my head examined, but I don't think insurance would approve. By the way, once I get married I won't qualify for medicaid anymore. Fiance doesn't have insurance. We'll both be outta luck chuck.

So here's my rant:

I am so sick of people. Yeah, people in general. My kid is being a turd at school, and I'm tired of dealing with it. Tired of dealing with him and the principal and all that crap. WTF? I'm sick of the dumb bitch I work with who's the biggest loudmouth negative person on Earth. I have to pretend we're friends. I'm sick of my bipolar, freakazoid, micromanaging, can't-ever-say-I'm-wrong boss. No explanation needed there, eh? I'm sick of the fucktards who post "deep and meaningful" Facebook status messages about the economy, health care reform, taxes, or anything remotely related to Ayn Rand. If you were really that smart, then you'd be in office. Shut up. I am sick of dirty clothes and messes and having a house that's 70% trashed all the time. I am sick of kids who don't do what I say the first time. I'm sick of kids and their entitlement mentalities. I'm sick of feeling like ass because I quit smoking and the Chantix makes me tired and nauseated. I am sick of jonesing to smoke and not being able to. I am sick of the stupid bar skanks and jackballs who frequent our little neighborhood dive. Really, who do you think you're fooling? I am sick of stupid clients who couldn't find their ass with both hands and a map. But most of all, I am sick of the wretched, heartless bastards who decided to cut off my financial aid permanently. Ever hear of an exception to the rule? Douchebags.

As you can see, I'm dumping all the negativity that I've been carrying around. Good therapy, and it's cheaper than a shrink. My favorite team lost today, and all I want to do is shout "FUCKITY FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!!" and break shit and throw things. I really could beat someone up right now. I won't though because I'm too damn good of a citizen. I'd bitch-slap the coach if he walked by right now, though.

So anyway, there that is. I just needed to blow my stack, and I can't do it on Facebook. Too many people that I have to make nice with. I can't do it in real life because it would erode and eventually tank my relationship. I love my fella, and I don't want to use him as a dumping ground. I can't do it on girlfriends because then I have to listen to their sodden bullshit, and really, I could care less about their problems right now.

You are my selfish release. Today this blog is my verbal toilet. I don't intend to proffer wit, provoke thought, or enlighten the masses. Today is just about me. ONLY ME. Fuck you.

I'll be back from time to time. Please don't comment unless you have something really great, funny, or interesting to add. No critiques please. Gayass comments will be deleted without a second thought. I have to be politically correct in real life; thank goodness this blog isn't real life.