Tranquil Or Meek

Last night Nicole and I went to Willie Nelson at Ravina, all-in-all a nice evening. A great venue, cool to see Willie, old but still playing, good to get out and do something a little different. However the night started with an odd, potentially night-killer type interaction.

For a long time I had quite a temper, unable or unwilling to put up much resistance whenever I felt anger, justified or otherwise. It got me into a lot of trouble over the years and strained or alienated a lot of people I had relationships with. When I got sober it's something I worked(and work) a lot on. Not lashing out, feeling and processing emotions rather than stewing, letting go as opposed to fostering resentment, communicating rather than arguing. And for the most part I'm successful, most things don't bother me much anymore, things pop up but I'm mostly able to pause and let go and not react. But that's the thing, sometimes letting something go isn't the right thing to do.

A couple months back Nicole and I had an interaction with a door guy where he made some inappropriate comments, totally out-of-line, and neither her or I really reacted, just felt bad, were made to feel small by this guy. Afterward we talked about it and we felt like we should have said something, as difficult as it may have been it was important to say something and we didn't.

So, we took the Metra up to Ravina and while we were getting off the train this guy and the woman he was with were behind us. I heard him say "Get over it hon, it's the weekend" and then something else, more aggressive and sharp in tone. Nicole was behind me and I wasn't sure who he was talking to, remembering our interaction with the door guy I thought if he was saying these vaguely threatening things to Nicole it was important I say something. I turned around and said "Are you talking to us?" Clearly drunken, with blood-shot eyes the guy said "I'm not talking to you. But I can be." I felt a crash of adrenaline, nerves electrified, ready to fight, an old but familiar feeling. I knew that if I said anything else the situation would escalate needlessly. I turned and we kept walking and he said something else under his breath. After we were out of the train and separated from the disembarking passengers Nicole told me he was talking to some lady on the train and then the poor lady he was with. Ultimately it didn't matter and I didn't really need to say anything to him in the first place. The guy was drunk and irascible, rude and unpleasant looking for an altercation but not worth engaging with.

Point being there are times to pause and be silent and let things go, most times I think. The potential for violence or confrontation almost never has any value. But there are times when it's important to stand up and say something, when threats or denigration or abuse are not to be tolerated. The trick is knowing the difference, something I continue to try and figure out.

Do The Right Thing

Sometimes the right thing to do is easy and obvious. Hold the door for an old person with a cane, give up your seat on the train for someone with a kid, show up to work on time, take out the trash, what have you. Other times it can be more elusive, more complicated. Taking responsibility for your action while still advocating for yourself, making compromises or not making compromises, standing up for yourself, letting something slide, taking into consideration the wants/needs/desires of friends/family/employers, not sacrificing your wants/needs/desires in the service of people-pleasing. It can be murky.

But even on the small scale it can be difficult. We may be exhausted, irritable, myopic, unwilling or unable to give of ourselves for even the most basic kindness on any given day. And that's OK. Some days are good and some days are bad. What we can do is do our best on any given day and realize that that won't always look the same.

Some days the right thing will be a missed opportunity, something we just overlooked. Some days it will pass us by because, in that moment, we were incapable of taking action. Some days will be all success and triumph. We will lay our heads on our pillows at night with a sigh of satisfaction and a sense of unbridled fulfillment. Some days we won't even notice that we are doing the right thing, we simply will be. Some days we will endeavor greatly to do the right thing, to be honest and true and things will get all mixed up and we'll be left feeling like emotional hamburger, all twisted up and pounded out and spent. Some days will be a struggle and in trying to do the right thing we may end up doing the wrong thing. Some days we'll be confronted with deceit or pain and the path may be unclear. Some days require action, others stillness. Some days require talk, others listening. Some days require confrontation, others quiet acceptance.

Morality can seem, at times, so abstract it is not applicable. But some simple practices may provide definition for the theoretical. Pause. When confronted with a person or situation pause before reacting. Investigate your feelings and think through your response. Talk. Consult with friends and loved ones when you're in need of direction. By taking in the input, suggestions, and perspective of others we gain clarity. Pray. Or meditate. Cultivating an internal calm will pay dividends in the external.

In this our modern age of irony the idea of being a good person seems quaint, uncool. But given the current climate of socio-political upheaval, of dissent and protest and injustice, now more than ever we should aspire to do the right thing. To breathe meaning into cliched words like hope, courage, and tolerance. To forsake internet rhetoric for real world empathy. To try, to attempt, to do the right thing. To be ruled more by principle than knee-jerk reaction. To seek understanding rather than being understood. To seek to love rather than be loved. And to always do the right thing.

Penultimate Blockbuster: Goodbye Meaghan

Tonight was the second to last Blockbuster and Meaghan's last night in Chicago. The house was packed with friends and family and the show went the best that it's ever gone, a wonderful send off for Meaghan. The process has been challenging and fulfilling and I've learned a ton from it. I'm proud and nervous each week for the show and each week the cast makes new discoveries and the audience reacts to different things in different ways. One of the greatest pleasures of the whole experience has been working with Meaghan on one final project before she leaves for NYC.

We met when we got put on a Playground team together back in 2010 and have been friends and collaborators since. She's one of the most talented people I've ever met and one of the most generous and kind friends I've ever made. As a collaborator she's pure energy, eliciting inspiration from the people she works with and garnering the attention of any audience who has the pleasure of seeing her.  As a friend she's caring and hilarious. Always supportive and ready to offer her insightful perspective, creative time, or share opportunity however busy she is. I'll miss her deeply.

I wrote her a letter offering some suggestions on her move and telling her what her friendship has meant to me. A portion below.

"Ask for help. This is a tough one for me because a lot of the times I feel like I have to do stuff on my own, to prove that I’m strong or independent or whatever. And this is OK up to a point but ultimately in almost all aspects of life you can’t do it alone. So ask for help when you need it whether its finding places to eat, places to perform, calling family or friends when you're lonesome, looking for work, what have you. Do not hesitate to reach out to people for help, they will want to do so.

You’re very brave. People talk and think about courage typically as a reflection of how we see it in movies. Usually in regards to confrontation or like overcoming a life threatening illness or some really dire circumstance. The reality is that life isn’t that dramatic often. But it still takes courage to get up every day and live life with joy and principle despite how, at times, it seems somewhat impossible. You walk through life with, what seems to me, a real don’t-give-a-shit attitude. Not like the kind of attitude young improv dudes have where it is clearly petulant and partially if not entirely posturing. And its not like you lack compassion, you’re incredibly empathetic, but you have a true sense of doing what you’re going to do, living your life how you’re going to live it, regardless of how people view you. And that’s brave. That’s impressive. And I know you, like me like everyone, have insecurities and fears but you go on and you keep moving forward despite those. You don’t use them as a crutch, you don’t lash out, you don’t blame, you take responsibility when you’re at fault, you keep going. From where I sit that’s real courage. Now you’re about to/are taking a big step and that’s brave too. Whether you stay in NYC long or not. Whether you move to LA or not. Whatever happens. Action takes courage and never forget, never question, how brave you are."

Kralahome

I was a large teen.
Embarrassed by my gut, rolls and double chin.
I hid behind baggy clothes,
volume, bluster, and aggression.
I was forced to confront
my low self image
when presented with my costume
for The King and I's Kralahome-
a skirt.
Held up not by a belt
but by the protrusion of my belly.
At the time
I didn't even swim without a shirt
so a bottom-only outfit
left me angry and exposed.
After lashing out
at my director
and costume designer
who were stunned by my vehemence
and tears
I took the shame between my teeth
and truculently acquiesced
to the fearsome garb.

An adolescent challenge
I over came with almost no grace
but a modicum of courage.

Sweaty Steve

I've always been a sweaty guy. In seventh grade after dance class I'd be sweating the entire period after it, this kid Ian called me Sweaty Steve. Thankfully it didn't stick. When I first moved to Chicago I worked at a coffee shop in the loop and I'd ride my bike there. I'd have to build an extra twenty minutes into my schedule for a cool down. If I didn't I'd be pouring sweat for the first hour of my shift. To quote my childhood inspiration Angus Bethune from the movie Angus "I don't sweat, I rain."

Profusely sweating at inopportune times has been a problem I've had to deal with periodically over the years. At auditions, rehearsals, dates, whatever, always because I ran or rode my bike before and didn't allow myself time to sit still for a bit before whatever it was I had to do. For a time being incredibly disproportionately sweaty in situations I most definitely shouldn't have been made me very embarrassed and uncomfortable. As I've gotten older I've been much better about avoiding those situations. Unfortunately at my job interview today I fell into this old trap.

My interview was at 10, I went for a run at 8:30, my typical run is about 25 minutes, I did not allow myself enough time to cool down. Walking to the office I was sweating a lot. When I sat down for the actual interview I could tell it was not going to miraculously stop. I'm sure natural nerves had something to do with it. I was sweating so much the guy that interviewed me repeatedly offered me water which I declined. After a couple minutes of conversation he forced water on me and gave me a paper towel to dry off with. A pretty mortifying situation.

For whatever reason it just didn't bother me. I was able to, for one of the first times, just own it. The interview went well, my sweating wasn't really a distraction, I think the two folks interviewing me maybe thought it was a bit odd but nothing more. In a very small low-stakes way it felt like I put pudgy sweaty insecure seventh grade me to rest. A small victory is still a triumph, a tiny success still progress.

Graffiti 166

"Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not." -Dr. Seuss

"It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness." -Eleanor Roosevelt

"Empathy is about finding echoes of another person in yourself." -Mohsin Hamid

"Loyalty and devotion lead to bravery. Bravery leads to the spirit of self-sacrifice. The spirit of self-sacrifice creates trust in the power of love." -Morihei Ueshiba

Anti-Cruise

When I was fifteen I happened to turn on HBO when they played this documentary called The Cruise about a double-decker bus tour guide named Timothy "Speed" Levitch. Its shot in beautiful black and white and follows Levitch around as he waxes philosophically and inspiringly about life, love, and NYC. It altered and elevated my outlook on creativity and the human condition.

One of his main points of discourse is his ideology- The Cruise- compromising adventure, experimentation, experience, and basically living life to its fullest. The force, he says, opposing this is the anti-cruise manifesting itself in things as small as roadblocks or detours to organizations as large as law enforcement and the government itself. The anti-cruise is to be evaded and thwarted at all costs.

A couple years ago I noticed these signs going up around Chicago "No Cruising Zone". Upon some investigation it appears it is in reference to an ordnance which makes people who drive through these neighborhoods more than once in an hour subject to a written warning and eventual fines. The stated intent is to relieve congestion. Any time I see these signs I can't help but think of Levitch.

This sign is a very clear manifestation of the anti-cruise. And I have no doubt the intention of the Chicago Municipal Code is to restrict its citizens sense of adventure and exploration. To restrict, contain, and control.

Chicago, the sprawling metropolis of the middle west, holds untold mystery and beauty if you are brave enough to seek it out.

Triumph And Defeat

Came across this quote this week. A good metaphor for artists and creative expression.

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles,
or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.
The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena,
whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs,
who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming;
but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions;

who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat." -Teddy Roosevelt

Awareness & Acceptance

Since getting sober one of the things I've been taught and cultivated is a sense of self-awareness. Developed habits to pause before reacting in anger or frustration, to investigate the origin of feelings of discomfort, to bounce ideas and decisions off of others in order to clearly see motivations, destinations, and ramifications.

One of the most clear cut and institutional feeling tools is the acronym H.A.L.T.(hungry, angry, lonely, tired). An easy way to give yourself a quick once over if you're feeling restless or irritable. Sometimes the solution is as easy as a snack, company, or a nap. The key is simply getting in the habit of investigating how you're feeling if you find yourself acting unreasonably or saying mean stuff or generally doing things that are out of character for you that you may come to regret. If you can create a small window of reflection between thought and action you can generally live in a happier, more tranquil way.

This idea extends beyond immediate physical and emotional concerns to broader instances and circumstances. For example, currently I feel a bit over committed, there's a thing I'm apart of that I'm not getting much joy or fulfillment from that I'm thinking about quitting. Instead of making a snap decision I've talked to a couple people, flushed out my feelings, desires, and responsibility regarding this commitment, and got some suggestions and some guidance on how to proceed. After getting others' perspectives I can move forward with a lot more confidence and comfort than had I made some quick emotional decision and then immediately regretted it which was my MO in the past. By breaking down the how and why of a situation with another person I can get a clearer idea of what the right path is.

The other thing I've tried to work on is an attitude of acceptance. For a long time control, or more accurately the illusion of control, ruled a lot of what I did. I wanted to control people and situations, I wanted the world around me to conform to my selfish wants. I discovered this was not only impossible to do but an untenable way to live.

I can only control myself. I always feel my emotions but I can choose to process them and react with either grace or ugliness. I can walk through my life stomping and affronted or lightly and contented. Through practice, discipline, and guidance the choice is now mine to make.

I Am The One Who Knocks

there is an eerie pause
before the rolling thunder cracks,
the coiled snake strikes,
the stalking lion lunges,
before two men collide.

fear sparks on skin
the world slows yet speeds
thoughts of death pull lips
into dry grins
prescience of metallic blood
fill nostrils
chaotic desperation clashes
with savage glee.

there is comfort in destruction,
seduction in violent acts.

The Subtlety Of Feeling

When I was drinking my emotional range was limited: elation, despair, rage. They didn't mix and although I felt each with some depth it was never terribly complicated. I used my dependable and constant friend Jim Beam to dampen and curb any other feelings, channeled them into my three acceptable modes of operation. To make things simple, to make them manageable, to curb my constant fear. When I was active in my addiction there was no texture to my mental state, no nuance, no variety, no range. I numbed out because I didn't know how to deal, all emotion, on some level, was too overwhelming to deal with.

A therapist once told me you stop maturing when you start using. That your emotional development is suspended by heavy use of drugs and alcohol. I certainly found that to be the case for me. Two years ago upon getting sober I felt like I had been reborn. Not in a religious sense but in the sense that almost all feelings and experiences were new. I had to learn and sometimes relearn how to navigate and deal with situations, people, and emotions I had never encountered with a clear head before. It's been a sometimes difficult, frequently surprising, always fulfilling journey.

This past week has been a rough one. A situation outside my control and experience has brought on a torrent of complicated and confusing emotions. Many feelings bound together- grief, regret, sadness, hope, absurdity, community. Each existing simultaneously with the others. None of them glaring and steady but each subtle and mystifying, flaring at times then cooling. Humming quietly but not diminishing.

As a sober man I have no recourse with substance. I cannot cushion or escape, I have to feel. It can be taxing or bewildering, being overwhelmed with this parade of emotional colors, but ultimately I am grateful. I have prayer, mediation, and many loving people I can talk to. I have the ability to feel my feelings, I no longer sit in fear of them. I can be present in this moment which seems so large and uncertain. Work through the shadows and shades of my feelings, participate and process, stand firm and witness. Be there for others to lean on and lean on them in return.

The Big Apple

Took this picture of Tisher's street as I was heading to the airport. It was a great to see Tisher and spend some time with him in his new city. It's a good fit for him, sprawling and romantic, cosmopolitan and bizarre, full of freaks, hipsters, and affluent douches. We did everything I wanted to do, saw some shows, hit tourist hot spots, and had some great food. It was a full experience with lots of stuff to ruminate on and unpack.

At the beginning of the trip I was nervous, scared that I would get overwhelmed in the utter tumultuousness of the city. On the bus from LaGuardia to Tisher's it was packed and I could feel myself getting worked up, prepping for a freak out. My bus stop finally came and no one really moved, people were just shuffling in place. I called out loudly but calmly "coming out!" and people made way. I had a little breakthrough, I realized the MTA is just like the CTA, the same etiquette, the same mix of confused/belligerent patrons, the same protocol. Realized over the course of the visit Chicago and New York aren't that different. Of course NYC is bigger, faster, more intense but when it comes to actually functioning, the day-to-day stuff, they're similar enough for me to be able draw the parallels and make it work. Chicago operates at an 8, NYC at a 10, they're not the same but on the same end of the spectrum.

The culmination of that realization was that I could live in NYC. I'd be able to establish a routine, be able to make my way around, carve out my little part of the city, be able to endure and figure it out and make a life. I have the ability to do it, it is not outside my capacity.

My second realization after talking to people about their lives, work, classes and shows was that I do not want to. I applaud my friends for making the jump, I have faith that not only will they be happy but they will attain the comedy success they deserve. I won't move there unless I have a gig, I have no desire to move there blind and start taking improv classes over again. No desire to take on a big city again from the ground up. Don't see the benefit in struggling to make rent let alone get stage time. Not to degrade that choice, I'm sure they are making longer and firmer strides towards a comedy career than I am, but it is comforting to come to the conclusion that that is not my path. The line between delight and despair is paper-thin in NYC. For a while there I felt left behind, confused, lost as to what I wanted to do and how I was going to do it. Going to New York and seeing it I know I'm where I'm suppose to be.

The trip, although not particularly restive, was inspiring. Creatively invigorating. I'm back in Chicago more balanced than I have been in months. Grateful for the opportunities I have, the loving friends that surround me, and Chicago itself.

Deadwood

"Pain or damage don't end the world, or despair, or fuckin' beatings.
The world ends when you're dead.
Until then, you got more punishment in store.
Stand it like a man- and give some back." -Al Swearengen

The past two weeks I rewatched my favorite TV show Deadwood. From the aesthetic to the acting to the dialogue itself it is an incredible piece of storytelling. Not only is it a great western it's a poignant allegory for civilization.

I've watched the series now a couple times, each time more layers unfold and I can spot more subtlety. Each time I learn something, not in an after-school-special kind of way but in a broad life lesson type of way. Themes of compromise, communication, violence, empowerment, corporatization, contrition, justice, revenge, and many others are explored. The show has taught me a lot about people, individual ambitions and desires and how they meld with society at large. How to soldier on, how to weather adversity, how to negotiate, how to conspire. In an almost antithetical way its characters, despite their deficiencies, work toward the greater good.

It's a fearless show that advocates courage. Despite all the booze and the swearing and the prostitution it's a show about people standing strong against the dark.

Winds of Change 2

With Tisher gone, iO moving, and Nicole and I cohabiting in the near future my life is in a state of flux. My dad is fond of repeating that old saying "The only constant in life is change." Which is certainly true. And change can be fun and exciting or it can be challenging and scary, either way it is always unknown. Sometimes its difficult or overwhelming when outside forces or situations break your established patterns or routines. Upset your comfort. But most of the time change is for the good. Prevents you from becoming complacent, propels you forward. We are all on our own journeys with individual pitfalls and promise. But we get no where if we don't continue, there is no progress without effort, no triumph without risk, no courage without fear.

I am excited for these changes in my life and the decisions on the horizon that will influence its ultimate direction. I'm on the cusp of 30. It feels like a real watershed moment, its both thrilling and terrifying. The seasons keep passing, the moon keeps cresting and waning, and the Chicago comedy machine keeps churning. And I, I just keep taking it one day at a time.

"The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, join the dance." -Alan Watts

"If we don't change, we don't grow. If we don't grow, we aren't really living." Gail Sheehy

Sink Or Swim

I don't like change.
Or variances in routine.

I like things controlled.
And ordered.
Predictable.

Moving homes or moving friends
open the door to flux.

Possibilities endless and far reaching.
Fill up the quiet moments with a deafening
uncertainty.

An abrupt future weighs
on the mundane.
And courage is required

to leap into the void.

Ridicule

Easy Target

I was listening to Radiolab on the train ride into work today. It was an episode which tangentially mentioned bullying, during a segment a middle aged woman broke down describing being made fun of by her sister years before in high school. Memories from far away came trickling unavoidably back to me.

I was a chubby weird kid. I got made fun of for being chubby and weird. Kids poking my little belly or pinching my junior love handles. I liked books and had a vivid imagination. Boys called me girly, sissy, gay, would push me down or slap books out of my hands. I was sensitive and so when I was bullied I would cry and be made fun of even more for crying. I didn't, and to this day don't, brush my hair. "You stick your fingers in a light socket?" "You forget your bath?" "Dirty dumby doesn't know what a comb is!" I have a black birthmark on the side of my head. "You rub poop on your head?" "You stick your head in an oven and get burned?" as I got older stuff like "You toast shit and use it as mousse?" back when mousse was a common hair product.

I vaguely remember being chased to the bus. Pinned down. Not attacked necessarily but made immobile while things were yelled in my face. I remember being pushed, thrown, and checked into lockers. I was once chased with dog shit, another time with a squirrel corpse.

These weren't every day occurrences but happened often enough to have a significant impact.

I got older, grew, and these incidents stopped completely. I don't imagine my experiences are singular or terribly extreme but it does breed a certain amount of resentment, anger, and at times strength. People who sailed through their childhoods didn't have the same kind of tempering that kids who've been bullied had.

I don't regret the past, I don't blame a soul. I am the sum of my experiences, I don't know who I would be had the social aspects of my childhood not been difficult.

Sometimes though.

Sometimes I wish I could wrap my arms around that chubby little nerd and tell him he's not alone.

Graffiti 90

Recently I've felt a little bogged down. By negativity and judgement. I know these things will get me nothing but they are easy, slippery, sucking things. I have to remind myself daily to avoid them. To expel them. To keep my heart open and inviting. To keep my mind clear and kind. To keep my spirit hope filled.

"The mind can calculate, but the spirit yearns, and the heart knows what the heart knows." -Stephen King

Confidence Of Youth

For a long time I thought I was invincible. I think that's normal for kids in their late teens and early twenties but I had that sense before then and long after. I've been in a lot of situations where I came away virtually unscathed. Car accidents, bike accidents, motorcycle accidents, fights, falls, cuts, burns, illness. No lasting damage, no broken bones, no real hurt. I did something real dumb today which made me realize that time in my life has passed.

I came home a couple hours ago and realized I had locked my keys in my apartment. I contacted my landlord but was told someone wouldn't be able to let me in for a couple hours. I figured, ok no biggie, maybe I can figure a way in while I wait.

There's an access door in the building to the roof and I have a balcony. I went up to the roof and looked over the edge, there's no real lip or anything, and my balcony was about 10-12 feet below. I swung my legs over the edge and thought. Didn't seem that far. I thought maybe I could dangle and cut the distance but there was really no place to grip. I distinctly remember the thought 'just do it' and I did. I slipped off the roof onto my balcony. I tumbled into a heap on my balcony after bruising my ankle. I almost said aloud "I'm too old for this shit." which I didn't because I thought that'd be dumb. I'm not old I'm 28. I limped inside found my keys and went about my day.

It was stupid and unnecessary. I'm not that badly hurt but it's an inconvenience. And I realized I am too old to be pulling stunts like that. My body certainly isn't deteriorating by any means but it doesn't have the bounce back capability that in once had. There's no need to risk but sometimes I find myself drawn to it.

Patience is something I still need to work on.

The Unknown

I use to be really afraid of new things and situations. It was difficult to go to places I had never been before. Meet new people. Ask for help or directions. I liked things that were known. That way I couldn't be surprised, taken out of my element, made to feel uncomfortable. Recently I've turned a corner. I don't feel that way anymore because I discovered, you never know. You never know what the unknown will bring. Most of the time its good or interesting or helpful or not big deal or easy or, worst case scenario, boring.

The past couple weeks I've challenged myself to go to new places meet new people. And I discovered that once I started doing it, it became very easy. Most people are helpful, you don't know where you are going ask. Most people are welcoming, you don't know people introduce yourself. I figured out that all the stress and anxiety I associated with that stuff was coming from me not from the situation. And ultimately it was a waste of my energy. There was no reason to be stressed. There was no reason to be anxious. For the most part life takes care of itself. Do what you do. Make a plan and follow it and you'd be surprised what falls into place.

Today I went to a meeting I had never gone to before and it was kind of hard to find. At the very back of some building out of the way. I found it eventually and was welcomed by a lot of people and it was great. A month ago I would have freaked out not knowing where I was going. Now it's easy. In the grand scheme of things it's nothing to be upset about. Things work out. Later I went to catch some random shows, met an acquaintance and had a great conversation. We had some real talk and found out we had a lot more in common than I would have thought. You never know what can happen when you show up. And that's a good thing.

Suit up and show up.

Down But Not Out

I'm no longer working. I've been unhappy at work for a long time but I felt like I was sticking it out through all the drastic changes they were making. Evidently not well enough. When I first started working there I loved it. I was with friends, it was low pressure, it was fun, which resulted in what I think was high productivity as well as high moral. Since then everything has been down hill and devolved into something gross and grimace worthy.

I'm between jobs and the uncertainty is stressful. But it does afford an opportunity which I may not other wise have had. I can go to meetings and work out every day. I want to get healthy and stay sober. Right now it feels like that's the most important thing, not getting a job, but putting myself in a position to being the best me I can be. I've been overwhelmed for a long time. I'd like a week or two to sleep in, get my mind and body right.

Everything happens for a reason. Sometimes it takes a while for us discover why.