sober musician post

gratitude shout-outs

....done Dr. Seuss-style.

• To G. for talking to me about M.P.
• To A.B.
• To S.S. for turning my day around.
• To M. and D. for coming all this way and being so generous.
• To G., S., J., and M. for not judging me.
• To J. and L. for telling me you love me.
• To C.A. and L.C. for keeping me employed.
• To S.H. for taking such good care of J. and L.
• To L.S. for referring your friends.
• To A.A. for my sobriety

I have made the decision that, apart from a 40th birthday trip to Peru or Marrakesh, I will also begin making plans for a celebration of my sobriety. Last year, Gabriella Moonlight and I took a day trip into Ohio to visit Dr. Bob's house in Akron. This year, I would like to kick it up a notch. I am setting my sights on the AA International Convention in San Antonio, Texas. Members of my home group in California had attended the 60th anniversary convention and returned home saying that it was a spiritual experience unlike any other.

See you there.

trash day

Feel free to follow me on a post that goes nowhere. A meandering of mental nothingness that needs to be sorted through and tossed in the mental dumpster to free up more space in my head. This happens about once every six months. Sort of like defragmenting a hard drive. But not.

-Contrary to popular opinion and what this blog might represent, I don't think about recovery related issues all day long. I have a life because of sobriety and I enjoy living it. I don't stand on a street corner with tambourine and Big Book in hand. Although that would be funny.

-I'm quite certain that in an alternate universe, I live next door to this man:

-And across the street from this guy:

-Does everything taste better with Ranch Dressing?

-I love eating at Mexican restaurants and yet hate listening to people chomp on tortilla chips

-There is someone at one of my meetings who is so funny that sometimes I go just to listen to them share.

-I crave seafood every day.

-I want scallops right now. RIGHT NOW.

-I went somewhere in a dream last night and I want to go back.

-I really do believe there is an 'i' in 'team.' I just think its really tiny and we can't see it.

-When I was a social worker, I once had a client go off on a ridiculous rant at me. I responded with, "You must have me mistaken for someone who cares." I kind of regret that, but not too much.

-I think people misinterpret my kindness as 'doormat.'

-Fall and winter is House of Blues season for me. There is no venue too far away for me.

-This weekend, my five year old went through a pack of gum in under two hours. She stood right in front of me and attempted to justify it with a straight face. She was so convincing that I almost bought it.

-The problem is not so much the quantity of gum but the fact that the gum somehow flies out of her mouth and ends up in bizarre places around the apartment.

-This kid is such a con artist that she triggers my inner addict.

-I'm leaving for a meeting right now.

-I'm walking there.

-Bye.

for L.

lucky prayers

I will kick this one off by saying I have the bestest blog friends EVER. If you don't believe me, then slide down to yesterday's post and read how many people wished me luck on a test that I firmly believe 3/4 of the city of Charleston showed up for. Don't believe me? Well, it's true. Remember the post where I told you that 400-500 people apply for this nursing program and only 40 get chosen? Yeah, well, I got an eyeful last night.

Now, see, if I was in charge of the selection committee, then I would be chosen based simply on how frigging cute I was dressed for the test. Seriously, people. The brown leather knee high boots I wore would have been an instant qualifier for entrance into the program. Not to mention the form fitting jeans and fitted, brown corduroy blazer. I would post a picture, but you know, with this blog being all anonymous and stuff....

So, half of Charleston shows up and apparently they are all math whizzes, because everybody finishes before me, while I am still laboring over why Juan would bother spending 33 1/3 % less for socks when he could just wear sandals year round. Word problems need to be outlawed. But as Gabi will back me up on, few in this community can put together a coherent sentence, so I'm thinking I might have an edge on language and writing. Just saying.

But the test is now over and the next step is to await the results coupled with a preliminary acceptance based on transcripts and work history. The whole acceptance system is based on points and apparently one gets points simply for being married or related to a hospital employee? Can you believe that? I should tell the director that "acceptance is the answer to all my problems today." Really, I should. I should tell her that the Big Book says that; so if she would just accept me into the nursing program, then everything will be perfect.

Again, just saying.

wish me luck

1. Apply to program



2. Submit transcripts



3. October 15, 5:30-9:30 PM: take entrance exam



4. Wait...

nothing ever changes

Last night's topic was Putting Our Program First.

Good topic.

It was a small meeting. One of those meetings where everyone has a chance to share, room for burning desires, time to shoot the breeze after, and still make it home by 9:00 PM.

D. relapsed.

I have never shared about D. before, but I have been watching her for many months. She's older and rough around the edges. Not particularly attractive but sobriety put a gleam in her eye and did wonders for her posture. Last night the eyes were dead and she slouched in her chair. She went back out on "everything."

That is what she said to me as she got in the car for a ride back to the homeless shelter where she is now living. Relapse caused her to lose her apartment.

She went back out on heroin, cocaine, and alcohol.

I asked her how that worked out for her. She said that it was fine for an hour. Then it got worse. Then a little better. Then it just got bad.

This just in from Research and Development: Nothing ever changes.

She bought her score from the same dealers in the same alleys that work my old neighborhood. She bought her booze up the road from her old apartment which is one block from the homeless shelter. On the ride to the shelter, she spoke less of her relapse and more of what she lost as a result of it. She said to me:

"My apartment is right up the street from the homeless shelter."

The sadness, pain and hopelessness in the car was palpable. Had my brushes been handy, I would have painted a picture of blacks and greys; cut with searing reds to represent the blood of recovery lost on the streets of our neighborhood ghetto.

Nothing ever changes.

resurrected (part II)

Because I am nauseatingly bored with myself and lack any desire to post anything of substance, I will offer up my second most hit upon post: a link to the saddest excuse for food prep known to man. Nothing says "Let's never revisit the 70's ever again" like these gems. Enjoy.

P.S. If you're looking for recovery reference within the link, it's not there.

resurrected

I've been blissfully busy at work and resultantly, too brain dead at night to post anything of subsbtance. My recent AA birthday and the completion of a long overdue amend has brought on a renewed tone of gratefulness for sobriety; and when that happens, I like to reflect back on where I've come from.

So, from the archives, comes my most ever hit upon post. Enjoy. Kind of.