We made it to California in one piece. I can already feel myself decompressing. I can feel the old, soft me cracking through the tundra crust. It has been a year. A very very weird year. I am now permanently cured of any feelings about wanting to be "home", meaning the Midwest. I have some idea of why I decided to go through all this shit moving there and moving back. Some of the reasons are good, some of them are bad.
I needed to get clean of the heavy drugs to see if I could. I can. I could not have done that alone out here in Cali, and so on that point, good call to go back where the fam is. That is how I did it. I imagined I was going to be doing the St. Vitus Dance 24/7, and in other circumstances I might have. I didn't. Yay me. I now know I can do it. Again, I needed to be back where my peeps are to have a chance to do that. Now that it is over I am not saying I don't love or need my family, but if what is being talked about happens, none of them are going to be there anymore either. It will leave me with my oldest, dearest friends still there, and I will always want to see them, but from where I sit today, I am gonna try to coax them to visit me here out west! We shall see.
There are some darker motives behind this past year, and I had a wave of shame overtake me when I finally put some things together and had a narrative come together around it in which one of my goals was to go back to the place where I formed all of my ideas of what work and work life should be and prove to myself I could do it. Literally, this is some juvenile shit in which I had to prove to myself that I too - like my dad, and every man I saw as I grew up - could work "downtown" in one of those big buildings and not completely fail. Pretty f'd up, but there it is. I had to demonstrate to myself that I too was "good enough" to do that stuff too. Even typing this is making me blush. It's done. I guess I can now say "I can do that" too. Chapter XL. Guffaw.
OK, so I went home and proved to myself I could do something hard and do something stupid. Time to get on with having a meaningful life. I think I sit somewhere and utter that idea to myself every other fucking day, but at some point, something has to happen, right? If not, I will literally be able to look back at my existence and shrug and say "nothing really happened...' Absurd.
Happy happy to be back. We arrived on one of those magical warm days in the Bay Area, and all is right with the world. I finally have an apartment that is nice - much too nice for needs - and I think I will quickly find myself a little routine I love. From there, it really is time to get on with the writing. I still think this is the last year for Ye Olde Weblogge, but I would love to go out with a bang. I have been slacking worse than ever, but it isn't because I lack the goods. I simply lack the motivation.
Motivation. That is gonna be the magic word. I got fat as hell in Chicago (had a good time doing it too), but that was the last of that. I am gonna git myself rollin' in the direction of clean living, post haste, and I think I can lose most of that weight by year's end. That's the plan anyway.
I have to buy a car. I have to either move or toss out all the shit I still have in Illinois, and I face that with some dread. It will come and go like all that shit does. I am gonna do a few last Goodbye To The Midwest tour spots (still gotta see Grandpa Rudolph Grahn's grave and still gotta go to Grahn Kentucky, but after that - and a round of goodbyes to the oldest, dearest and related - I hope to never leave the Pacific Time Zone again except in an urn. If I do that - if I really kick the restlessness - and I finally get my personal shit together, than this won't all have been for naught. Again, I say this to myself thousands and thousands of times. I make progress, but like the frog who always jumps half-way to the pond, I feel like I never get there. It isn't boasting or anything at this point to relate that I believe I now can do anything I have to do. The big monster under the bed for a decade was getting clean. I now have all the info I need on that, and I can roll with whatever (there is a VERY good chance I am simply gonna be put back on Fentanyl by my doctor here, and if that is the case, I hereby tell the world, I will be a user for life...fact is, I feel like shit most days, and simply have become used to it - I can't say in my heart of hearts that I prefer this to feeling nothing at all, which is what the dope does - and I don't see a time EVER where I will not be on drugs of some kind. TBD.)
An interesting year for sure. I believe it ended where it should have, and I think I finally have a real chance at a real life. I am just happy to have made it here in one piece. I miss the kittens (this presents some operational difficulties at this point - they are gonna be delayed in arriving and I am not sure what the next few months for them will be - details to come.) I am very happy to have the pup with me. He is a great companion. He seems very happy with the new arrangements too. The importance of that can't be overstated.
More to come chums. Lemme settle a bit and hopefully I can field a Logge worthy of the visits, and perhaps go out with a bang.Posted by rudayday at May 05, 2012 06:52 PM