Wednesday, March 26, 2014

      Had a First step meeting tonight and I can never think of things while I'm in the rooms but always have some decent thoughts afterwards. Recently I remembered that I relapsed in July and had an experience with a friend the morning after. I quit drinking the day that I woke up on jail but really struggled for a while because I lived with an alcoholic and didn't really have anything better to do. On July 11th I went to a show with some friends and was not going to drink because I was broke and I really didn't want to but my friend said that he was going to pay for my drinks and the flood gates opened. I put like 8 PBR's on his tab and the went home pissed off and proceeded to drink a bottle that I had bought for a friend for her birthday.

      These are all great excuses but I was not in control and was in-fact powerless over alcohol and needed help. When I woke up in jail I knew I had a problem, but when I had the feeling of no control I knew I was an alcoholic and that I needed help from others. I immediately called a friend when I woke up and asked her to have coffee with me. She had been sober for 10 years and we sat and talked for 3 hours about whatever came to mind, she told me about the program and invited me but I still didn't go.

      I didn't even remember this until this week when a friend reminded me of the show, kind of broke my heart but guess what? I'm human, SURPRISE! Today I have been sober for 8 months and 15 days. I couldn't be more proud of where I am today and what I am doing with my life than I ever have been. I get my license back this week and the feeling is un-explainable. I am however still on the fence of whether I should find a sponsor and work the steps, I know I should but sometimes the program drives me nuts. The same people, in the same rooms, telling the same stories.

      I thought about that tonight and I am just being ungrateful, I am lucky to be alive. Those same people can bring joy to my life, those stories can bring me back down from my pedestal, and those same stories are just drilling into my head why I am there and how important it is for me to stay sober.

Thanks, that's all I got tonight.
Stay prepared
Keep That PMA

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

A narrative I had to write for class, thought it came out well.

    I Guess My Race is Run

A tapping on glass woke me up from a frigid and miserable sleep on a thin 

mattress; utter confusion filled my head as I pulled the thin wool blanket over me to 

block the fluorescent light that persisted on keeping me awake. I wanted so badly to 

close my eyes and wake up in my own bed and believe that I was not sitting in a jail cell, 

but the harder I tried the more I started to remember glimpses of how I had gotten there 

the previous night. I sat up and pulled the rough grey blanket around my shoulders to 

face the correctional officer who was trying to tell me that my bail had been posted and I 

was to be released within the hour. 

    Thoughts started to race through my head faster than I could comprehend them. 

The faster they appeared the more fleeting they became. How did I get here? How am 

I getting released? Do I still have a job, when I had no way to call out? As I curl back 

up into the corner of the cell to look out of the window and watch the new arrests start 

to trickle in for the night I started to analyze my physical state. All of my jewelry and 

personal possessions were gone, my mouth was dry and tacky, and then I turned my 

gaze down to my hands. My left hand was stained with blue chalk between my middle 

and forefinger, but that was not surprising since I had been playing pool at the bar the 

night before. What caught my eye next was the state of my wrists, which were covered 

in scabs and swollen, I must have been fighting the cuffs the night before. 

    While starring down at my hands I blocked everything else out, nothing seemed to 

be able to break me from this trance. A stern voice spoke “Fields,” and broke my gaze, 

the Corrections officer told me he had been calling my name for a few minutes, he was 

ready to escort me outside. The cuffs were put back on with a dull pain as scabs were 

re-opened. I was taken to the gate just as the sun was setting, the heat of the day was 

melting away. I was handed a bag with all of my possessions as I starred in confusion 

with no idea of what I was supposed to do. I quickly snapped back and walked out of 

the fence still in a haze of disbelief. 

    I looked towards the parking lot to see my roommate Tom and my girlfriend Alex 

standing outside of our white Buick Lesabre. I felt the first hint of freedom as a 

tremendous burden rose from my shoulders, but weighed heavy on my mind. The 

doors of the car were open as I approached, and I heard the song that was playing 

from the stereo, “I fought the law, and the law won” by The Clash. As happy as I was 

for being out I could not hold a smile for long. Tom noticed and handed me the bottle of 

whiskey, and for the first time in years I handed it back without taking a sip. I, along with 

everyone, was in utter bewilderment as I heard myself say “This is the last hangover I 

am ever going to have.”   

Thursday, February 6, 2014


              I am going to go on a self entitles cyclist rant because today on my way home I had a guy open his door and start yelling at me about getting out of the road and I am proud of the way that I handled it instead of yelling at him or getting off my bike to beat the shit out of him. He yelled at me to get out of the road and all I said back was "I have the same rights you do."

              I do not think people understand that cyclists have every right that a car does, I can take up a whole lane if I deem it necessary. I am nice enough most of the time to stay as far to the edge as possible but not if I do not think it is safe. I do not think people will ever learn that you are in no way in so much of a rush to endanger another human being... nothing is so important that you need to yell at someone for doing something completely within their rights. Would you drive on the sidewalk and mow down people walking just because you're late for work, which is your own fault in the first place? Maybe I just care too much about other people to understand how these ignorant, for lack of a better term, fucks that cant wrap their head around the fact that if I do not take the space that I need while riding I could seriously get hurt.

             That's all I have for today, gotta go to work, had about 5 minutes to write this between class and work. Keep That PMA. Be kind to others, put them before yourself.

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Some call it talking shit, some call it being honest. Stop, Think, Then react.

      I was told recently that I am the type of person that will tell you what you need to hear not what you want. At first I didn't know how to take it and was quite confused and taken back but as I thought about it, it means that I act the way that I say I am. Constantly telling the truth, telling you if you're over-reacting, even telling you to shut up if what you are saying is no where close to constructive. I know I have offended more than my share of people with this in my life but most of that was under the influence of a whole lot of alcohol. If that is the one trait I keep from being a drunk I guess I cant complain.

      Posting on here has been tough for the past few weeks because I haven't felt as if I have much to say in regards to struggling or needing an outlet to purge my system of complaints. Bought a new bike, all kinds of new winter riding gear, had a fantastic Christmas with my family that didn't make me have the urge to drink at all. It seems like as long as I abstain from the thought of it or even when I do think about drinking that I can get myself out of the mood extremely easily. Today is 257 days sober, a little over a week and I will be 100 days till a year. This amount of time baffles me, A year ago today I was most likely sitting on my purple couch with some girl, Tom and Rob on the other couch, watching some pointless thing on tv. Splitting an 18 of PBR and passing around a Liter of Henry Mckenna and laughing to myself about Rob being the oldest one there and him having the hardest time taking a shot. We didn't have shot glasses though, well we had a few for special occasions where toasts were necessary, or we got an expensive bottle, I don't know, It rarely happened though. I can still picture the room perfectly, dingy walls from cigarette smoke, tv loud, my red coffee table with a white boarder covered in beer cans from who knows how far back, all of us laughing and making fun of each other with beer and bottle in hand. if it wasn't for the rare expensive nice things in the room it would be the epitome of a punk hole in the wall.

       It really amazes me how far I have come in 6 months of living here but I am extremely good at putting on a face and not sharing things that would put a lesser image of me in someone else's eyes. I will openly tell anyone that I have a drinking problem and do not drink but it always turns into a contest of the crazy shit that I've done. I generally walk away after smiling and laughing. I am not proud of who I was so why would I want to tell anyone about the skeletons in my closet? I read a quote recently and i appologize that I do not remember where it is from or who said it "Speak your mind, anyone that minds doesn't matter, and anyone who matters does not mind." Stop caring what people think, do you, have others feelings in mind and do your best not to trample on them but there is no good that comes from a white lie or hiding the truth to protect someone.