Saturday, February 24, 2007

An Update Has Been Successfully Installed What I want, I know, is to make a decision.  Any decision would be pretty nice.  I just want to cross something off the list as done.  The joke on me, of course, is that the list is pretty damn long, and getting longer. What I'm feeling, I know, is impatience.  I got stuck and stayed stuck, in many, many ways, for a long, long time, and now I'm unstuck and I'm not used to it.  I think there should be more action going on.  *sigh*  Sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly... What I'm missing, I know, is a mission statement.  I'm not talking about divine inspiration, or a sign -- if I told you how many times a week I become aware of signs, of directions popping up all over the place, you might be concerned and/or pushing pharmaceuticals.  It's as if someone has shoved a spotlight into the woods.  But I still wouldn't mind having it spelled out for me.  I'm not asking for elaborate.  A burning dandelion would be OK. What I've been doing, I know, is writing. -------------------- I kept dancing around the idea of killing off this blog.  I don't seem to have the time, or inspiration, or patience.  I also don't want to be Wistful Dad anymore, or Nice Husband or Troubled Man or whatever I've seemed for the past few years.  There were times I hung on to all that, and I apologize for nothing (especially sentiment; shame on you if you think sentiment is something to be stomped on, and some of you do), but there's a time and place and I'm not all that interested right now. Still, the blog is my primary Web presence, and that's a practical thing.  And it belongs to me for another six months anyway, all paid up.  So maybe I'll hang onto it for a little while longer, just to see what might happen. -------------------- Six months ago today, I headed over the mountains.  It almost seems whimsical, now; I had really no idea what to expect, or what I wanted, or why I was going other than people who cared about me said it was a good idea, and I was going to die anyway so maybe I should at least have one last road trip.  Such was my state of mind. I can't describe the changes.  Oh, I can, in the sense that I could give you a laundry list, but it wouldn't be much in the way of an explanation.  Just sort of a memo, maybe, the nuts and bolts of newness.  And everything is new, believe me.  I wake up in the morning and want to introduce myself to me, that's how new. But I can tell you physical stuff.  My skin is better.  My body has lost bloat, if not a lot of weight.  My sense of smell, oddly enough, seems enhanced.  My sleep has improved. And a couple of weeks ago, my brain woke up.  The circulation returned and my whole head tingled, and that's how I knew I'd been writing all along. See, I had this idea of writing a book about a year in the life of a guy who got a pardon at the last minute.  I would be an apologist for addicts, I thought, explaining and making jokes along the way, but then that's probably been done enough.  I also came to the conclusion that I have no advice to give at all, just a story.  This is where I was, this is where I am, this is where I went, this is how I came to be here. The trick, of course, is to make it interesting.  Your guess is as good as mine, but I've been writing it anyway.  Give me another six months and we'll see where we are. -------------------- The other night I sat in an AA meeting and listened to this kid talk.  He's about John's age, and I've known him for a while now.  He makes me smile; he's rigorously honest and serious, and he swears like a sailor, the way young people do when they think everybody talks that way. He described his life now, some of his struggles and frustrations, and then he mentioned that he'd been sober for seven months and that he was proud of himself.  Everybody clapped, and I leaned over and said, "We're all proud of you," and it was suddenly like an out-of-body experience. It's just unlike me.  I'm a nice person but I'm reserved with people I don't know that well. He looked at me, and his eyes got big and he mouthed, "Thank you," and I had an epiphany. No, not an epiphany.  More like a whisper. you made a difference And then stay alive OK. 8:12:18 PM    comment []

© Copyright 2007 Chuck Sigars.