Life is hard-period.

Why do people feel the need to persecute and stifle other people throughout time?  Life is hard enough, and that goes for everyone, without constantly trying to fight with other mortals to live.  Last night I saw Milk, the bio-pic of Harvey Milk, the first openly gay man to be elected to public office in California.  He and the mayor that supported him were assassinated while, literally, in their offices by a defeated coward who opposed them and their steps towards fairness and equality.  I'm sure the timing is no coincidence--California just went through a similar fight with Propostion 8.  Fighting for equality in the face of religious zealots.  

Life is hard--everyone feels lonely, confused and questions their purpose.  Why can't we see that everyones life would be better if we stopped bashing and judging.  Two men want to marry?  Why not?!  I might be able to empathize with the conservative argument over up-holding the sanctity of marriage if there were still such a thing.  Marriages now only have a measly 50% chance of making it.  We heterosexuals have dissolved it into merely an extended relationship instead of a life-long journey and union.  It is not uncommon for heteroseuxual people these days to divorce and re-marry without any social stigma.  "Till death do us part", " through sickness and in health", and "for better or for worse" have only become words repeated but not promises made.  Gay couples are no better at staying together than us, but they are no worse either.  

Marriage should mean something deep and personal to the two people involved, but it should have nothing to do with anybody else.  The condemning masses are not going to live those lives and fight those battles, so they should have nothing to do with the commitment in the first place.  The law says nothing about allowing sexual offenders or ex-cons, or convicts for that matter, to marry--do they represent the purity and sanctity of marriage?  Religion should uplift and forgive, not persecute and stifle those that already have to struggle with society to be who they really are and not who we want them to be.  

-These last few posts have been a little heavy so I'll try and bring some levity into the next ones.

Expectations.

Is it so bad to have expectations?  How else are we supposed to know what we want?  But is it wrong to have expectations with human beings and in relationships?  I don't know and that's why I'm asking.  I feel like I've been on an emotional roller coaster for a while now and I'd like to get off.  How do you apply former relationships and what you like about them to your new one(s) without getting tripped up?  Perhaps you don't, but it's hard to separate true, honest desires from unrealistic expectations.  When is it unrealistic?  Unconditional?  And maybe that's why I love my dog so damn much, I don't expect anything out of her except some mild manners and soft fur.  Why can I not apply that to my relationships?  Maybe I could blame the media, the magazines, the fictional relationships of screen and tube that present this belief that you will get everything you want.  When do you bend?

Deep down I know that you can't really judge anybody because you will never truly understand where they are coming from.  You will never know how it feels to look out of their eyes, piecing what they see together with their brains, and interpreting it all in their own way.  You can really try to listen, try to dissect it and try to empathize, but you will never fully understand.   I know this.  I know having another piece of pizza is bad for me too, but unless I remind myself of  all of the reasons why it's bad (factual reasons and my own) then I'll most always grab another piece.  Maybe it's the same way with people, unless, I take a step back each time, I will probably react immediately--and that can lead to sticky situations, not to mention, a pizza gut.

So how do you meld two completely different lives into one harmonious future?  I know I should say here, "with total acceptance of the other person."  Ok.  How do you cross out all your expectations and arrive at that 'total acceptance.'  And is that what we really want?  If you 'totally accept' a child and place no expectations on them to succeed, then they will have no bar to clear or to raise and will probably waste their potential--we need expectations with kids, but what about others?  Do we throw out our expectations for love delivered in the way we want it, or do we learn to recognize it in different packaging?  

Obviously, this one's not over...

  

Mickey knows.

Thank dog.  Yeah, that's right, I didn't misspell anything.  I think it's awesome that the come-back 'dude' Mickey Rourke actually thanked his dogs during his Golden Globe acceptance speech.  "Sometimes, when a man is alone, that's all you've got is your dog."  It's so refreshing to have someone not praise Jesus for their golden statuette, but instead, take a humble step back and thank that which helped him keep it together--his beloved dogs--even if it might make him sound like a dope at first.  

Any dog lover knows that bond between man and dog is irreplaceable and profound.  I, personally, know exactly how Mickey feels.--my little soulmate has been by my side for the past four and half years and she's my best friend.  Looking to heal a broken heart from the recent death of my puppy, I found her at the local shelter.  She filled my gaping heart and then some.  

Our bond was not immediate, but there was something in her that made me take her home.  She didn't want to show me her supposed potty trained skills for a while, testing my patience and, regrettably making me sometimes wish I never took on such a responsibility.  And now that I try to think about other things that aggravated me, I cannot recall a single one.   I adopted her when she was one year old, she didn't have a name or a history that anybody knew about--my sister and I like to joke that she fell from heaven when I needed her.  Now that's a little gushy, but I've turned into a total puppy-love-sucker.  The bond that you can create with a special, intelligent animal is unbelievable.  It truly is unconditional--well, as long as you fill the belly and stroke the head once in a while.  The only expectations that they have of you is that you, hopefully, will take them around the block, and better yet, to the park.  I can't project expectations of my financial success or how I should look in bathing suit into her brown eyes--my poor boyfriend gets that bag.  She's just there for me, plain and simple, anytime, anywhere. 

She's also an inspiration--seriously.  She was a stranded, orphan pup who opened herself up to receive love and to give it back, whole-heartedly.  Being only 28 lbs., she's a little on the smaller size of 'big' dogs, but she doesn't let this hold her back at all.  She conquered her fear of the water and learned to swim across rapids, dive fully emerged to the bottom of creeks to retrieve rocks, and then leap fearlessly from cliffs into the depths below.  My friend and I would throw pieces of dead tree trunks out into the river for my friend's 120 lb. lab to retrieve, but when he saw how far he would have to swim she would leap over him and take it on herself.  Gripping any part she could, she would tug-boat that tree trunk all the way back to us on shore, shake off the water, look up and ask us to do it again.  She can climb trees like a mountain cat and you should see the scared-shitless squirrels flee for their lives.  

Basically, she doesn't let her being a dog define her, and I need to realize that nobody defines me either, except myself.  I have let this city and the pressures of trying to hold it all together overwhelm me from time to time, but then I look in her eyes and immediately feel better and brought back down to earth.  

She knows just how to put it all in perspective.

Dancing Martinis.

Maybe I'm being naive or overly optimistic--but I really think I can do this--kick the hold ole' booze has had over me all these years.  The 'life of the party' (well, until she passes out on a couch, a bar top, or even crouching against a wall on the street) is getting redefined.  That crazy, go-lucky girl has always been inside, and now I just need to harness her without loads of libations.  

It's not even like I like the taste of it all that much--although over the years I've really honed in on that 'acquired taste.'  Usually if it takes you getting over not liking it the first several times you try it, then it might not ever need to be 'acquired.'  Also if you have to douse it in sugar or it requires a chaser, maybe you shouldn't be bothering with it in the first place.  But what is sort of funny is now that I've made this declaration I feel like I notice it pushed everywhere.  It's like when you think you might be pregnant and then you all of a sudden you notice pregnant women and babies everywhere.  

Just watching t.v. or taking my dog on a walk and I'm inundated with references, advertisements and new bars just seem to pop up out of the blue.  Yesterday a noodle shop, today a bar/lounge.  True story.  My grocery store has holiday window paintings that include two larger than life martini and cocktail glasses painted at different angles like the glasses themselves can't contain themselves from having a good time, dancing along with the holly in the window.  Restaurants have permanent advertisements cemented into their windows proudly telling all that they carry that kind of beer.  'Food is fine, but the alcohol is better' sort of thing.  

Embarrassingly enough, I was recently watching MTV's new show The City and just about every scene started with a camera shot on a drink, being poured, toasted, etc.--and this is marketed to teens as the 'glamourous, good life in NYC.'  I know that over the past three years that I've been here I've romanticized about being carefree, young, and partying into the wee hours of the night.  But it never payed off.  

  Alcohol really does seem to be placed here specifically to keep us from thinking too much and organizing to overcome that which eats at us.  I know that's what it did for me--wasn't happy at work, drink a crap ton and you'll forget about that--you'll also forget to solve the problem, too.  Just put your hands over your ears, close your eyes and yell loudly so you can ignore everything thats going on that you would like to forget--just like a child having a tantrum.  The next day you feel so bad that you're registered equally as useless and then it's back to work.  'Oh fuck work and all this bullshit, lets just go get stupid drunk,' and on it goes until you look up and realize all the time, money and brain cells you've wasted.  

It had become such a matter of habit--going to the park, who can grab some beer, careful, gotta hide it from the cops.  Going to over to a friends house on a weeknight, grab two bottles of wine--just to be sure that we don't run out before we are ready.  Movie theatre?  Sneak in a jumbo bottle of wine for the two of you, or load that purse with a six pack of tall-boys.  Feeling tense?  Fat?  Bored?  Drink up.  Face the facts tomorrow- they'll still be there and hopefully you will, too.

It's funny, too, that it's only been 5 days but I feel like it's been a month--not because I'm jonesing for a drink but because I've consciously decided to make a change and that feels immense--and great.

Just the beginning.

So basically, today is the first day of the rest of my life--my life without abusing alcohol, blacking out or related regrets.  Every social activity or outing seemed to circle around alcohol-- and not just a little, but as much as would flow through my wallet and into the wee hours of the early morning.  Definitely not a desire to drink day to day but a social crutch, one that I would turn to in times of boredom, frustration or for social lubrication.  All of that would be fine from time to time, but once 3-4 drinks happen all bets are out the window and I'm headed to Blackoutville, where I'm the mayor.  

Alcohol has never given me anything good.  Well, maybe, those few glasses of wine or margaritas when everyone smiles more and laughs more and enjoy themselves more are good--but other than that--not so good.  Splitting headaches, lack of equilibrium and areas of my life that have been erased permanently are all consequences of my escapades with booze.  I think I can basically say that everything that I truly regret ties back to those liquid nights.  That is terrible.  I'm still haunted by what I remember from the past ten years while 'having fun.'  I used to think, or told myself anyhow, that is was kind of funny how I would fall or yell crass things or gyrate in the corner to a sound system only I could hear.  But the truth is, I never thought it was cute or funny, I just couldn't bear to think that I honestly couldn't handle it.  I'd go on rants of 'keeping a handle on it,' 'not shots, just beer, 'only on special occasions', or the best, 'only in moderation.'  

Well I found out I can black out on beer, so that was out, thanks to Stella Artois, the ubiquitous beer of the bars in New York City.  I guess it doesn't help when you have twelve, either.  And special occasions? Ha.  Any day can become a special occasion when you're looking for a reason to let loose.  Stressful workday? Check.  Friday, now thats an occasion, check.  Birthday?  Who's birthday, because I can know a lot of people when I need to.  Check.  Saturday- well, we all have to get back to the grindstone the next day, so that's an occasion. Check.  Cramps? Check.  The list goes on, and on...  And that whole 'keeping a handle on it' and 'only in moderation' thing- ha!  I am not a moderate person and in the moment when a friend, or anyone for that matter, offered me another, I seemed to break every time.  I would always think inside, "Ah, fuck, why the hell not!" 

I seemed to think, 'oh it's not that bad--you haven't hurt anyone or yourself too badly--yet.'  And I would load that rifle time and time again, always narrowly missing my life, but each time I knew that one more slip up and something irreparable and catastrophic was looming on the horizon.  

My drinking life has consisted of too many close calls, lucky breaks and miracles to count.  I feel and felt like I should have died, ended up in jail or killed someone else.  But I would suppress those feelings when it was time to party again... and then another lost purse, another bruise, another string of apologies to make.

I mean, it's crystal clear, and I'm a thick skulled moron for ignoring it. 

My abusive relationship with alcohol must be ended.