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| THE BLEAK WORLD OF SOBRIETY |  | Category: Personal
Monday, February 18th, 2002 @ 09:45 pm
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Oh Yes, You Will Be Mine...
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I've been forced into a long haul of sobriety recently. Somewhat like Ian part of if is self inflicted, and unlike him, part of it isn't. Allow me to explain...
When I first started smoking, its was cool, I could have a cigarette when I was in the mood, or I could pass; no biggie. After about three years of ever increasing addiction, one day I tried to look back on the last day I could remember where I didn't smoke a cigarette and guess what, I couldn't. I couldn't even remember a day where I didn't smoke half a pack at the least. It was an extremely shocking experience. Unfortunately for me at the time, and presently, I enjoy smoking way too much for me to ever try to take a leisurely dent in my consumption.
Snap to the present. About three weeks ago, after a particularly harsh binge, I woke up for work on a Monday, drunk off my ass from the night before. I went through the motions of my job with head pounding and stomach churning, regretting all of my actions from the previous night. That day at work I tried to think back to the most recent day in which I had not imbibed the devil's brew. You know, hooch, booze, firewater, whatever your personal pet name for the spirits are. Once again I was floored with the revelation that I could not even glimpse a day in recent history that I had not sought out to alter my frame of consciousness. I know this is starting to sound like my intro speech to a 12-step program, but trust me, its a lot more shallow.
This revelation, combined with me being sick of going to work hung over, or worse yet still drunk, along side of the fact that I was in ship shape physically before I started drinking around the house, I have decided to lay off during the week, and target my mind altering chemical abuse on the weekend. I think it should all in all be a good venture.
Then comes another catalyst to my already shaky situation with alcohol: antibiotics. I got strep last week and ended up having to take antibiotics to get it under control. The good lord saw fit to stretch this arrangement over the weekend, thus effectively voiding my self allotted poisoning during my free time. Not done yet. Then Peter calls and asks me to go fishing on Saturday. Have you ever gone fishing without drinking? I think I may be the only soul on the planet that has had to endure such hardship; its almost an impossibility.
So, here I am. Monday. A whole week ahead of me before I can allow myself to do what unfortunately comes naturally now: drink heavily. Its going to be hard, but god knows, with the help of my friends, I'm going to bring myself to the brink of death this weekend, clinging to walls and wallowing in my own sick. It should be fun.
PS: after loading that picture up, along with a brief conversation at work today, I realized that I've never had a martini. So, I think I'm going to break my designer drink hymen this weekend and pick up a bottle of gin and vermouth (if that's even what goes in the bastards, I guess I'll look it up) and have a go at it with martini in hand. Cheerio mates.
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