It's been rattling through my head for the past few days:
If not now, when?
It applies to all the aspects of my life, the good and the bad.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Happy birthday to me -- or none for me and one for my homies
I love the lyrics from Cracker's " Happy Birthyday to Me." As someone who doesn't get too excited over his own birthday, I get a little geeked singing Cracker.
Especially today.
No, I'm not turning 40. That is still a few weeks off.
No, today, I'm 17. It's a birthday that will probably pass under the radar, with maybe mom calling to remember. Other than that, who knows. Maybe Chris, who enjoys this birthday more than the bellybutton one because "you have to do something to get this one, all you have to do for the bellybutton birthday is keep breathing."
After all, most people don't really remember your sobriety birthday.
That's right, 17 years ago today I embarked on a life-changing journey -- one I thought utterly impossible at the time.
But here I am, nearly 40 and still sober.
It gives me pause to think I've done something so difficult for the better part of two decades. I remember sitting on Paul's couch, smoking joint after joint until I was sure I couldn't get any higher. I remember wasted mornings sitting next to the Raley's in Antioch, drinking for hours after my graveyard shift ended. I remember rocking up an 8-ball of coke and sitting in a circle with two buddies as we freebased all fucking night, anxiously waiting (fiending) until our turn came around. I remember driving back into Reno from the Fallon Naval Air Station peaking on LSD with six guys in my 1976 Chevy Nova.
There were good times.
There were bad times.
I can't lie.
It made me who I am and I wouldn't trade any of it. But, as I near 40 and somehow look back on the what-ifs of my life, I wonder who and what I could have become if I wasn't a partier, if I wasn't an alcoholic, if I wasn't a dope fiend.
Maybe that's the course I would have ridden down regardless, just at a different point in my life (I did get sober at 23).
It's funny how 17 years can seem both like one day and an eternity. I remember things I've done, places I've been during the party years.
But I also look at who I am today. He isn't that same guy.
He's a little less fun, more reserved and a lot heavier.
Getting sober made me grow up, the arrested development (and that's an accurate term of how my life's seemed to go) unleashed in a confusing array of love, marriage, the baby carriage and starting the single life over again.
I think often, lately especially, of who I am and where I've been. If I could have taken a different path - one less traveled, perhaps? Sadly, it's the nature vs. nurture question, and it's unanswerable.
I am who I am, and my world helped shape me.
So today, I will sit back, celebrate quietly and know where I am is because of where I've been.
And then turn my attention toward 40.
Especially today.
No, I'm not turning 40. That is still a few weeks off.
No, today, I'm 17. It's a birthday that will probably pass under the radar, with maybe mom calling to remember. Other than that, who knows. Maybe Chris, who enjoys this birthday more than the bellybutton one because "you have to do something to get this one, all you have to do for the bellybutton birthday is keep breathing."
After all, most people don't really remember your sobriety birthday.
That's right, 17 years ago today I embarked on a life-changing journey -- one I thought utterly impossible at the time.
But here I am, nearly 40 and still sober.
It gives me pause to think I've done something so difficult for the better part of two decades. I remember sitting on Paul's couch, smoking joint after joint until I was sure I couldn't get any higher. I remember wasted mornings sitting next to the Raley's in Antioch, drinking for hours after my graveyard shift ended. I remember rocking up an 8-ball of coke and sitting in a circle with two buddies as we freebased all fucking night, anxiously waiting (fiending) until our turn came around. I remember driving back into Reno from the Fallon Naval Air Station peaking on LSD with six guys in my 1976 Chevy Nova.
There were good times.
There were bad times.
I can't lie.
It made me who I am and I wouldn't trade any of it. But, as I near 40 and somehow look back on the what-ifs of my life, I wonder who and what I could have become if I wasn't a partier, if I wasn't an alcoholic, if I wasn't a dope fiend.
Maybe that's the course I would have ridden down regardless, just at a different point in my life (I did get sober at 23).
It's funny how 17 years can seem both like one day and an eternity. I remember things I've done, places I've been during the party years.
But I also look at who I am today. He isn't that same guy.
He's a little less fun, more reserved and a lot heavier.
Getting sober made me grow up, the arrested development (and that's an accurate term of how my life's seemed to go) unleashed in a confusing array of love, marriage, the baby carriage and starting the single life over again.
I think often, lately especially, of who I am and where I've been. If I could have taken a different path - one less traveled, perhaps? Sadly, it's the nature vs. nurture question, and it's unanswerable.
I am who I am, and my world helped shape me.
So today, I will sit back, celebrate quietly and know where I am is because of where I've been.
And then turn my attention toward 40.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
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