Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Where Have I Been?

I enjoyed my final binge for the year — at least until Festivus — and when I binge I tend to disappear and avoid doing arduous things like typing coherently. I also tend to blow off responsibilities, not eat anything, and allow my neighbors to set fire to my beautiful carpet. In short, as far as alcoholics go I'm not a functional one, and in fact I'd go so far as to say that if I continue marinating myself with such enthusiasm I'll end up dying beneath an overpass in between a shopping cart and a pile of bottles. It's a huge part of why I've never held jobs and consequently have a lousy résumé, and also why I've lost a lot of friends and have never been a decent boyfriend; it's the reason behind so much that's gone wrong with my life that it would make too long a list for this post. No, I'm not feeling sorry for myself, nor do I blame my upbringing or society for my errant behavior; while it's something I dislike about myself, all I'm doing is telling it like it is.

But, tomorrow I'm going to start working — in a manner of speaking — and this was when I'd planned on starting getting my act together in earnest. The stars are favorably aligned, so to speak; oftentimes self-betterment requires favorable circumstances or hopeful prospects, lest the will falter after the first couple miles ventured into the foothills. By "in a manner of speaking" I mean I'll be receiving a monthly stipend for volunteer work done for the community for three months. Not a “real job”, but a sight better than returning collected bottles and cans for their deposits. It's a Central City Concern program called Community Volunteer Corps (an obvious homage to the New Deal Civilian Conservation Corps) and it's probably the only Central City Concern program that strikes me as being truly beneficial and not geared toward domesticating mental illness and addiction. Besides, it's nice to do things like paint over graffiti and assemble food boxes; much more gratifying than dish-dogging or swishing mop water around a floor. I've always thought it a shame that most jobs don't seem to entail doing anything to better our ailing world or long-suffering peers, rather in many cases the opposite.

I'm sure I'll miss getting drunk periodically, especially when a neighbor staggers up to me with a silly grin on his face and spouts off some mirthful nonsense while I'm fussing over something on the kitchen stove. I remember dancing with the Pope a few nights ago, promenading in the hallway after she saw me break out into the running man ... I don't think I've danced once in well over a decade, and not convincingly since I was fourteen. It was pretty damn cute, actually.

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