I was driving home tonight and had come up with a really kick ass title for today's blog. I think it was one or two words and rather apropos to all the stuff going on in my life right now.
Given the hour and day of the week you would have valid reason to assume that a multitude of libations were the reason for my sudden loss in kick-ass-term-memory. But I'm not sure that a Graeter's chocolate malt (made with the Less Indulgent Vanilla Bean) and a mystery pint could be cause enough for me to forget the title that (I thought) had burned itself in my brain.
That was it. Disconnect. Or maybe it wasn't. But it is now.
I know I've posted about this, but it's weighing on my mind, so feel free to skip ahead to the Instant Camera Segment of the post if you must. But I'm gonna dwell on this for a few minutes before I let it go. And by let it go, I mean, bury the feelings deep again and hope no one actually asks me about them at some point in the future.
Speaking of drinks.
It's now the next day. And I'm not sure what the hell happened, but apparently the mix of Terryaki Chicken Wings, Graeter's Chocolate Malt, Mystery Pint, and mini-Bomb produces a wicked hangover-like feeling the following day. I didn't feel drunk (hardly even buzzed) and woke up feeling like I went on a 3-Day Bender. Not sure how that all worked. My guess is the excess sugars in my system coupled with not enough water. But I digress.
Last night at Brew-Stirs (As has been the case nearly every time I've been there since I left the ex), it was just weird. It didn't feel like 'my spot' anymore. And the people were people I didn't know. The staff (my friends) were there and that's honestly the only reason I go. Otherwise it's just too weird. I think it's too much of a pull back in to that time and frame of mind that no longer applies to me.
I realize now the reason I bonded so much with that place. And for lack of a better term, it's the "Norm Syndrome." Every time I walked in on a Friday or Saturday night I was greeted by the bartenders and bouncers with a 'TOOOOODDDDDDDD!!!!!' And everyone in the place turned to see who walked in the door. The regulars knew me. I knew them. The people who weren't regulars looked at me like 'who is this shlub?' but they figured I must be somebody.
It really was my Cheers. And with the lack of any attention/affection at home, it was something I fed off of. It helped me feel good. It filled a void. In short, it was the intimacy in my life I lacked.
Odd to think of a bar full of people that way I suppose, but it's what it was. It was a place in time that helped me balance out the feelings of inadequacy at home. At home I was a sofa cushion (at least it felt that way most days). At BrewStirs, I was somebody. I got a discount when I ordered from Classics. They knew me. It was like I was big time.
But that's not my life anymore. Shit at home doesn't suck. I have a place I really love Uptown. I have a job where I feel valued. I have people in my life that give me deep friendship and there may even be a hookup or two from time to time. It's definitely the opposite of what it was when I was married and going to BrewStirs every weekend.
So the disconnect is, now every time I go, regardless of the people there, part of me is taken back to that time when shit sucked. And I wind up feeling in some way melancholy.
I'm pretty sure that's why they tell addicts not to go to the same haunts they went to while they were using. The memory of that feeling is so strong that it's too easy to lapse back in to patterns from before.
And I'm not that guy. Not anymore.
So...I think I'll have to find another venue to hang out with my peeps from BrewStirs that I still want to hang out with. Because I can't really go back. A part of me is sad about that, but the part of me focused on becoming the best me possible knows that this is the right way to go.
I have a new chapter of my life to focus on. New pages to turn. New stories to write.
I'm hoping some of the characters from previous chapters will come along with me as I meet new ones.
Oh...and that section on the Instant Camera Love? Turns out that's going be its own post in the very near future.
Have a kick ass day my friends!
There is a long and storied tradition that writers have to be tortured or crazy. Or any sullied variation that deals with being plagued by ...
It's 5:40 AM on a Wednesday. I have been up for an hour. I have an outline for a work in progress that I intended to work on this mornin...
Greetings from SkaggleRock and the Gallifrey Annex. It's almost Fall. Well, technically it is Fall, but it's almost that magical 3 ...
The house lights are down. The audience an invisible mass gathered with a low jumbled murmuring sit restless, somewhere out there in a cloud...