I was well into my second paragraph on the subject of me
taking a break from blogging, when I had the Idea to publish that post about my
brother the other day. I had the thought that I had been straying from my goal
of helping spread the word of recovery, but the thought was fleeting, and I got
back on track right then. Of course, I’m in recovery, so it could be said that
everything I do in life could be presented in a way that reflects that
lifestyle. That said, the plan is to keep going until some immovable object
forces me to quit like Carpal Tunnel, Leprosy, or perhaps an acute paper cut
from the laminating factory.
I’m going to work for the 9th day in ten this
afternoon, followed by a glorious four-day Thanksgiving break that I feel as if
I’ve earned. I’ve already written about my plans to go to St. Croix Falls, WI
with my mother who is returning from her trip overseas today, so I won’t recall
that story other than to write this sentence. After the four days, I have to
head beck to A.M.G. Laminating for a full week that I’m not exactly looking
forward to, but is necessary to live the Rock-N-Roll lifestyle that I desire.
Blech.
In all the years of loneliness and absolute isolation that I
put myself through, I developed a pretty good imagination. I can drift in and
out of my fantasy world at will, but I have found that these days, my life is
good to the point where I can live here pretty much all of the time. My
fantasies are not always portrayed in a friendly sunshine; there is dark in the
light. Here is an example of how my brain thinks: For years, I have been
fascinated by plane crashes. Probably since the somber aftermath of 9/11, I
have thought that probably I would be involved in an air disaster, in which I
would be the lone survivor, thus having an excellent story to share on my soon
to be world-famous blog. Very briefly, when I discovered that I was going to California,
I wondered if this would be it; my time to shine. Very shortly after I received
my tickets via e-mail, I thought through the whole scene of the crash, and became
famous for my harrowing story of survival, (the book would have a cover-shot of
me caked in soot and wrapped in one of those shiny emergency blankets) I
found out that my cousin Hannah and her boyfriend were going with me out on the
same flight, so I had to change the whole story to include an amazing Christmas
in San Diego with my family, followed by the inevitable tail-spin-plummet.
Now, this all occurred inside my head in the matter of a
minute or two, and I don’t actually believe there are any real elements to it
other than the time spent with my family, but, when we go on vacations,
specifically on airplanes, don’t we all say the same little prayer? God, just let me make it there alive, we can
crash on the way back. Or is that just me at my most sadistic? For me, I
never die in my brief made-up worlds; I survive and become well-known for it.
So, now you all think I’m weird, and I think you’re kind of
shallow for that, but I have to let that go. I can’t control how others view me;
I can only control my actions, thoughts, and feelings, and act on those in a
manner I feel comfortable with. I talked about this the other day with the girl
I’ve been seeing, and I’m positive she thinks I’m a loon. I’m okay with that; I
need to have some element of idiocy about me in order to keep this blog stimulating.
And that's how you blog about recovery.
