So... things are changing. Life is interesting. I am slightly inebriated.
The last few times I've been sick, alcohol has managed to cure me. Now, I am particularly too lazy and paranoid to become addicted to alcohol despite being much more apt to drink it than when I was younger.
Tonight I decided to test the healing power of beer again. I've been hacking my lungs out all day. My allergies are horrendous. Props to cedar for being so blatantly evil and destructive. Kudos to the enemy. It was also a particularly bizarre day with politics, intrigue, vendor food, and Uncertainty. Throughout it all, I sniffed, snorted, hacked, and cleared my throat. It's like I have become a snot factory serving the greater North American continent.
After work, my good pal John Smith (that's his real name) and I went to Chili's Restaurant for some final work and relaxation -- to get away from the crowd and responsibility. The beer was tall and strong, and the chips were crispy and salty. Queso runneth over.
We drank, we laughed, and we could have composed mighty missives on napkins (which are sacred contracts and all-powerful in the context of bar-noise, beer, and the quiet sussurus of waitress-folk).
Oddly enough, I do feel better. It's like Shiner Bock can do what pounds of Allegra-D and Nasonex cannot: halt the destructive Satanic tide of cedar. Oh, the cedar with its miniscule sharp protein molecules. Bastard. You suck so bad.
OK a couple of beers are not enough to toast me that much anymore, but I haven't coughed in a couple of hours now and that's a freaking improvement. My throat is still sore, but the continuous tide of nasal lubrication has eased. Perhaps I will sleep tonight; perchance to dream. One generally needs more than 12 hours of sleep across 4 days. It's all that keeps blithering stupidity from reigning.
While I'm at it, here's a shout to John -- one of the cooler guys I know. (Ok, he's pretty much the only one who is not blood-related or paying me to be friends). John's one of those guys who has a giant heart and a mind nearly as lethal as cedar. From the movie Grand Canyon: "How do you know he won't be your best friend until the day that you die?" Well -- he's that kind of guy, and I'll be lucky if we are friends for good. He saves my ass continuously at work and challenges me to be better. Props to Smitty!
So, back to the original unmeandered thought: transition.
Beliefs are changing, reality is altering. It's for the better, if slow in coming. It's been a hard year so far, and it's so trite to be reflective now, but since I'm playing the game, might as well play it. Change will be welcome. We'll see how the rest of the year pans out, and how next year starts.
I've been slower on the workout this week because of Cedar (KHHHHAAAAANNNNN!!!!!), but am dedicated to becoming closer to the slimmer me in the picture at the top of the blog. I just need to remember what it was like to be creative and original, motivated and artistic. Funny how it's that, rather than exercise, that makes it so. Exercise is the method, the beliefs are what matters.
Keep coming back and thanks to all my peeps for providing comments along the way. Off we go to create a better personal reality.
The cats are looking at me with "You'll feel even better if you come pet us" eyes and Dawn has forgotten what I look like. Off to do the next thing.
Dec. 28, 2011 - Day 656
6 years ago