Yesterday, I made 93 cents advertising for Google on my blog
which is awesome because it’s so slow at work, they gave me the day off. Now I
can afford to buy nearly two postage stamps. Keep clicking those ads for me
people! Fortunately for me, I found out on a Tuesday that I would be off
Wednesday. This means that I was able to put in for shopping and community
service on my schedule. Honestly, I don’t mind taking the day away from work.
It’s been slow for a few days, and I much prefer to be moving around and having
a lot to do.
Tonight is the start of a fourth step workshop that my
sponsor advised me to attend. Oh, I’ve gone through the first three steps this
past weekend, and am starting the big one: Made
a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves. Yikes. Although I
feel that I’ve done a fairly decent job of doing that over the last almost two
years of writing, this goes deeper, it delves deeper into things I’m just not
comfortable sharing on my blog for a couple reasons. One, I don’t want to hear advice
on my sex life from my mom every morning after I post a sex-related blog. And
two, there are just some things I’ve done that I will never make public because
they may incriminate myself or others, and the statute of limitations has not
run out yet. If it helps, I can tell you that I have never raped or murdered
anybody.
It’s going to be quite a process. The workshop lasts for, I
believe, six weeks. So for one hour every Wednesday before my home group, I
will be digging up the past, even deeper than ever before. This is what I was
unable to start doing while I was on restriction. Can you believe that shit? I’m
using four hours of free time to go to a workshop, a meeting, and fellowship
with sober people afterward. I don’t mind using free time for recovery, in
fact, I use over half of my 16 hours in sobriety related activities because I
know that if I don’t immerse myself in this thing, I’ll have no free time at
all.
On a lighter note, I’m on day 24 of my postcard
extravaganza. If you put in a request for one and have not yet received it,
something went dreadfully wrong and I apologize. You’ll have to resend your information
to me please. I’m still taking names, too. I have two weeks left and I’m
getting low on the list, so if you want one, please raise your hand. Higher.
Thank you.
10 minutes later: Sometimes I just stare at the screen. I
don’t want to force anything out because it will appear to be just that.
Sometimes I say that I can’t think of anything to write about, but that’s
getting old. I look around me, to see if maybe something on the table will
inspire me, and there it is. I just got paid today, I’m going shopping, and I
think I’ll buy a new shirt. Thank you, Michael’s Sunday newspaper
advertisement. Sorry, I won’t be shopping there, because I don’t want to buy my
clothes from a hobby store.
And on to an even much lighter subject, the word “won’t.” It
bothered me because it’s a contraction. I did some research and I’m going to
tell you why. It’s not a contraction of modern day words. Our linguistic
ancestors had two forms of the verb willan
(to wish or will)-wil in the
present, and wold in the past. For
centuries, there were so many variations on this word that it became
complicated just to keep track of them: wulle,
wole, wool, welle, wel, wile, wyll, and even ull and ool. There was
less variation in the contracted form. From the 16th century, the
preferred form was wonnot from “will
not” and the occasional departure to woll
not and the inevitable, willn’t. In
the ever changing landscape that is English, “will” won the battle of the “woles,
wulles, ools,” but for the negative contraction, “wonnot” simply won out, and
contracted further to won’t. So, if you’ve ever wondered like I have, there you
go.
