It's Not Always About Me...I hear.

There will come a day when I will wake up, go about my entire day...maybe work, maybe run errands...and I'll go to bed...and I will have gone the whole day without hearing someone bitching about how badly they've been screwed over and how tough their life is.

The problem is that I'm around ex-cons and addicts every day, whether it's at a meeting, at a class, at probation or at my sober house. I am around people who are trying to get better or pretending to get better to appease probation...either way, their old way of thinking is still there. I still have it...I fight it every day. We love playing the victim in order to elicit sympathy and to convince ourselves we're in the right.

What it is, really, is a lack of gratitude. We forget what we have and focus on what we used to have or don't have at all. That's no way to live. It is a way to live, actually...a really, really, shitty miserable way. Something you'll rarely hear in lockup or rehab, "How are YOU doing, man?" They don't care. It's all about "me".

I should point out the glaring irony here: I'm annoyed by something I've been guilty of for years. I have been an extremely self-centered asshole. Ask any of my close friends. I would hang out with them, gloss right over  their lives and get right into the Let's Talk About Me portion of the conversation. I hope to make this up to the people I care about in time. I can imagine a few of them thinking, "Aww...you have to listen to another asshole ramble on and on about their life and problems? Karma, bitch." I really should begin every day by looking into the mirror and saying, "It's not always about me".

There is a difference between sharing the ups and downs of your day with friends and family, and just full-blown victim stance. I encourage you to be mindful of this and to listen as much as you speak in your interactions with others. I'm also not referring to serious issues, tragedies and struggles you are facing. I hope I'm clarifying that. Please don't avoid sharing your problems with me based on this...I think going a full day with empty conversation would be just as bothersome.

As for those who are still cluelessly vying for sympathy and trying to manipulate others with their skewed vision of their lives, I think I have the perfect response:

Next time I have to listen to a certain individual in my probation class complain about how hard it is to find a job because of his record even though he hasn't utilized any resources offered to him, and how nobody wants him to succeed, he's going to get the response, "Lighten up, Francis."

30 in 30

In the 12-step world, they recommend newcomers go to 30 meetings in 30 days. Some say 90 in 90. I think some just like to top other people in everything they do. Regardless, the idea is to get that newly sober person into rooms with other recovering addicts/alcoholics every day...get them around sobriety and the program on a daily basis.

Well, I'm going to steal that idea. Starting tonight/this morning, I will post 30 blogs in 30 days. I need to write on a daily basis, and if I scribble in a journal that no one will look at, I'm going to half-ass it. If I publicly say, "Hey, I'm gonna blah blah", then I will be more motivated to blah blah.

I find myself saying regularly, I need to write more. I then respond to this by not writing. Sometimes it's because I don't feel inspired, but I think I miss opportunities to put ideas to words frequently because I do not write habitually. Fuck...that...noise.

I'm in the process of a major life change, so let's work on shit.

Oh, and this post doesn't count. I think announcing that I'm going to do "something" shouldn't really be included in said "something".


(#1 is here - http://johnrabon.blogspot.com/2013/04/its-not-always-about-mei-hear.html )

No, I Don't Know What You're Saying.

In addition to alcoholics and drug addicts at the Travis County treatment program, there were also these "kids" (17-20 years old) who were avoiding doing time. One of them was in my group. Despite using the phrase "know what I'm sayin'" as a comma and thinking he was a hardcore gangster, he was an okay kid. Decent person for a half-assed dealer and a horrible criminal.
When introducing ourselves to new members in the group, we had to state our name, what got us here and our DOC (drug of choice). This guy would say the same thing every time, and the following is a fictional exchange...what would have happened if the state of my probation was not at stake at the time.

Him: My name is XXXX...I'm here for 2 possessions of a controlled substance and then I pissed dirty, you know what I'm sayin'? My DOC is promethazine...with codeine.

Me: Um...I think you mean your DOC is codeine. Promethazine is an antihistamine and an antiemetic.

Him: Huh?

Me: It keeps you from puking so that you can consume the codeine. The codeine is what fucks you up.

Him: ...

Me: Just say "Drank", you cough-syrup chugging pussy.

Excerpts of My Journal Entries in Travis County Custody

IX-13-2012 (Day 2)
Reading "Simulations of God" by Dr. John C. Lilly. I've been put in the trustee tank...it means I work every night and get my own cell vs. getting shipped out to Del Valle for fuck knows how long. I work 11pm-4am on the paint crew...then I sleep all day.

IX-14-12
Reading "The Cleaner" by...who cares. Guys in here like "Two and a Half Men" way too much. Saw half of "Ocean's Eleven" in spanish. I think I can take this nicotine patch off (he said, 4 days later).

IX-16-12 
State of realistic indifference. Court in a couple of weeks? Who knows. This is the worst summer camp ever.

IX-17-12
"Da Vinci Code" by Dan Brown. The phone system we have to use is bullshit. It's expensive AND unreliable. Double threat.

I get no commissary because Travis County took 3 days to post a credit card transaction onto my books. No coffee or snacks. The Pony Express was faster than Travis County Jail's mail system. An old lady with a walker could have delivered a letter from Luling to Austin before the mail room would.

IX-20-12
An hour of "rec" 4 days a week. The rec yard is on the roof of the building. I wasn't going to go today, but why not?
Watched the sunrise...then we were able to see the space shuttle Endeavor's tandem flight directly over the building. I told the sheriff near me that this was the real reason I screwed up my probation. The fruits of my master plan...
Reading "Twelfth Night". Shakespeare on the roof. "O Time, thou must untangle this, not I. It is too hard a knot for me t' untie!"

IX-21-12 (Day 10)
Playing chess every day. The skill of a chess player in County is directly proportional to the amount of time they have done or are doing.
Everyone tells me I'll probably go to court next week. Good...then maybe I can get the hell out of here. I feel like they just threw me in here and forgot about me. They can't tell me anything. That's for my "attorney" to do. Sure...my attorney. I'll give that imaginary fella a call and throw wads of imaginary money at him.

IX-24-12
No internet or cell phone...just basic TV and newspaper. I feel like it's 1994.
I do not have any faith in the Travis County system. I need to set my expectations realistically. It's okay and normal to be disappointed...to feel let down. Just don't let it crush my spirit. Fate/Karma keeping me in place as long as is needed.

IX-26-12
"Much Ado About Nothing" -- because there's plenty of Shakespeare to read here, and it beats the fuck out of Dean Koontz.
What the hell is "50 Shades of Grey"? I miss Google.

IX-27-12 (Day 16)
I have court today. How does one sleep when waiting for court?
Here I go.
---
There I went. I will be waiting for a bed in the SMART program. 2-3 weeks they say. 5 months in the SMART program. Then I'm a goddamn resident of Austin again, against my will, it seems. I get to miss my birthday, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Valentine's Day...hooray.
Do you know what's it's like to lose everything? How about twice?

What do you want to do, John?
Who do you want to be, now?

IX-28-12
Boy, this quitting smoking program doesn't fuck around.

IX-29-12
RIP, Hunter. 4 years. Miss you, bro. I need to complete all of this for you, in addition to doing it for me.
---
Lot's of time to just think. I have a good time-killing schedule down. I scrape paint from 11pm to 4am, eat...sleep...get up and eat lunch at 10, sleep...get up and eat dinner at 4pm. Work out. Watch shitty TV. Read. Write. Eat snacks. Repeat.

IX-30-12
I need to make myself write...about anything...just to do it. I'm starting to let little things annoy me.
Everybody in here has a story. Habitual criminals will tell it multiple times to whoever will listen...or whoever doesn't stop them from telling the same story again. It's the story of how they ended up here. It's almost always not their fault. The cop was being an asshole...bad luck, bad timing...their friend fucked up. The more times they tell the story, the bigger the lie gets. They tell it repeatedly, I believe, so they can convince themselves it's true. "I'm not here because I screwed up...Somebody's out to get me, that's what's up!"
Every day, a new group of people come into TCJ. They're all the same.
There's the young kid who asks a million questions because he's been popped for his first DWI and "doesn't belong here". "When am I going to get out of here?" You've been here half a fucking day. Settle down.
An older career man weeping who thinks his life is over because of his DWI. It's fine, dude. It's just going to cost you a shitload of money. You'll be back to drinking recklessly at happy hour in no time. You're out in 36 hours. Must be nice.
There's the loud-mouth defiant asshole who is trying to make a big show for...who exactly? We're all in county, slick...there's no gangs to join.

X-1-12
Reading "Richard III". I convinced myself I'd be back in San Antonio by now. I should have known I would eventually have to pay. Karma is a bitch.
There's no Buddhist/Taoist/Zen literature here. I put in a request anyway. Maybe the post officer will get a big laugh out of it.

X-3-12
My friend in here Hudson is going to SMART too. At least I'll know someone.
There's no explanation as to what SMART stands for. The post officers don't know...it's not written anywhere on the info they gave me. Scared Monkeys Ate Ripe Tomatoes.

X-4-12
Two reasons to call the cops on a drunk guy: 1) He's becoming violent (Call the cops!), or 2) He's becoming a mess (Call the cops, gross).

X-5-12
Justin: Second cousin...hmm...Hey John, what do you call your cousin's daughter?
John: Dateable?
Justin: Dude...

They shipped off my chess opponent to TDC. Oscar's off the grid for 2 years at least.
When you have limited access to art, you appreciate what you see/hear more. It's hard to stay an elitist or hipster in lockup.
Who am I without drugs or booze? How do I have feelings and emotions like a normal person again?
SMART program...20 weeks...Sometimes My Alcoholism Ruins Toasters?

X-6-12
Reading "Mythology" by Edith Hamilton. Dionysus - God of Wine. The Greeks saw the duality. Wine is bad and good - a power that made men commit frightful and atrocious crimes as well as wine being a merry maker. Man's benefactor and destroyer.
Every moment I spend in my cell (I call it my dojo), I'm enveloped in thought. I don't want to drink again. I've learned my lesson (again). Blah blah blah. 20 weeks. So Many Assholes Receive Treatment. We have a winner!

X-9-12
Been here almost a month and I just now finally have socks. Never thought of socks as a luxury.

Nick Curran died on Saturday. I got to find out via the newspaper. Shitty. Hudson's right...slaps you in the face that life is short. I prefer "fleeting". Appreciate what you have. Stop wasting it.
RIP, Nick.

X-10-12
There's a loud inmate who just got here that is completely full of shit. It's guys like this that make me wish we had access to just Wikipedia...just to look stuff up and say, "BULLSHIT!"
30 minutes of me overhearing how Jesus had a wife and that she was in the original photo of the Last Supper. Yeah. Somebody watched the "Da Vinci Code" fucked up and remembered that (kinda) and that Tom Hanks was in it.
Leonardo Da Vinci, time-traveling photographer?

X-12-12
Been here a month. It's not always about you, John. I wish I wasn't a burden to my family anymore.
Regarding the VP debate last night: In-depth knowledge of something I cannot control or change and that I have no interest in is a waste of my time.
----
What do I really think? I think time served and a scram device to detect booze should have been enough. I think someone here should have talked to both of my probation officers in San Antonio to see how I was doing. Maybe take into consideration the meetings, good reports and 15 month employment after voluntarily going to rehab! Instead, they want me to pull $1400 out of my now unemployed ass, pay for an alcohol monitor while living in this fucking city for at least 6 months, finding a job and residence and ignoring 14 years of drug and alcohol history that every inch of Austin reminds me of. Hell, maybe I can go back to sleeping on Windy's couch and revert to full-blown depression while I'm at it.
Yeah, I'm angry. No worries...I'll be wrapping myself in a lukewarm blanket of indifference shortly.

X-15-12
"A dark world aches for a splash of the sun"
Be honest with yourself. You can fool everyone else (pretend you can), but to thine own self be true. Yes, I need this program...regardless of how good or bad it is. It's run by the county...I'm sure it's not bureaucratic at all and is managed logically.
Vacation from responsibility...here I come. Let's "grow".

X-18-12
"Why do you drink and do drugs?" Because I'm an alcoholic and a junkie.
Long answer? To numb feelings and emotions. This protects me from being hurt again by love or feeling pain and sadness. I also get drunk/high to attempt to recapture the past as I do not like the idea of getting old.
But that's all my Intro to Psych analysis.
Talking about Lance Armstrong in the newspaper. Do the ends justify the means when you think about the cancer foundation? I think it would be a warm change for someone to have some fucking integrity...because at the end of the day, you know you've sold your soul.
...said the guy in county jail.

X-21-12
They're going to transfer us (me and Hudson) tomorrow, on my birthday.
There is a threshold that one crosses when they get arrested/convicted one too many times where they go from a person trying to be good to becoming a repeat offender. Their mindset changes...everything they say is tainted with bullshit to make themselves look better. They are always looking for a way to get something for nothing. Everything is an angle, a grift. I thought like this as a junkie.
One can continue in this mindset all the way back here...or to prison...or you can have outside thinking...where you think like a free person. Elevate over the shit or be trapped deep in it. Inside thinking will see you right back inside.

X-22-12
Meaning of Life: This movie that's my life...I want my movie to have a well-rounded plot and character development. That's about it.

Happy birthday to me.

(Transferred to the SMART Program)

Lowest Common Denominator

Okay, so yesterday I wrote about where I've been, and I covered serious matters. This is about a "trivial" one. I use quotations because most would consider entertainment trivial, but it was important to me at the time.

I was in the SMART Program, which is Travis County's treatment thingy for offenders like me who repeatedly screw up. I still don't know what "SMART" stands for...I figure it's meant to be ironic.

I was able to get the most out of the program I could, but it unfortunately was lacking in activities. Luckily, family and friends sent books. I read about 30 over the past 6 months and am now a Douglas Adams and William Gibson fanatic.

I wasn't expecting to be busy...and I sure wasn't. However, I was encouraged to find new hobbies and activities that are prosocial and healthy. They pushed this...and then they sent me back to the tiny dorm with 6-7 other guys with the TV for 6 hours a day (12 a day on Saturday and Sunday). The good news: DirectTV, with limited channels, but including the Science channel. The bad news: TBS, USA, Discovery and History channel show the same shit over and over. After 5 months, you've seen every episode of "Friends", "Two & a Half Men", "Rules of Engagement", "King of Queens", "Fresh Prince of Bel Air" in the morning, and all those Tyler Perry shows. Fuck Tyler Perry. TBS...'Very Funny' my ass.

And you don't get to watch the Science Channel because the asshole who hogs the remote says there's not enough chicks on that channel (I didn't make that up). Then he watches "Big Bang Theory" for the girl and doesn't get the jokes...but keeps it on.

And fuck "Pawn Stars". I GET IT. You need to buy things that will sell at next to nothing so the seller can pay off gambling debts or drug dealers, and so you barter with him. You don't have to narrate to the camera what's going on every minute. It's also annoying because they are taping that narration way after the deal has happened: "This is a really nice item...and I'd love to have it in the shop. But he's going to have to come down on that price." Wait, slow down...you're losing me. I'm not sure I grasp the complexity of buy low sell high. Oh, and you don't have to ramble on about the entire history of said item like a fucking Wikipedia article, egomaniac. We know a lackey looked all that up (probably on Wikipedia) and then gave it to you to recite like an expert.

It's hard to ignore the TV and read when someone continuously changes the channel, too.

Me: Please stop changing the channel.
Him: I don't like commercials.
Me: So the alternative is you watch 2 to 3 things incompletely? You have the attention span of a gnat on meth.
Him: What do you care, you're reading.
Me: Trying to read. I almost tune out what you're watching then you change it and it impedes my shit.
Him: Whatever, man...I ain't trippin'.
Me: If you have to say it, it means you are.
Him: Huh?
Me: Exactly.

So yeah. I'm no rush to get TV time at the sober house. I'm good.

And any music I've heard was on Hot Jams channel. I watched the Grammys and I knew who everybody was for the first time ever. "Oooh, Bruno Mars is nominated...Ugh, I need some Radiohead."

I'm better now.

6 Months.

My back and shoulders are killing me, and I'm exhausted. It's the end of an 8-hour shift of dishwashing during SXSW, and it's my first night at my new part time job. It's official...My ass has been kicked.

I'm perfectly comfortable with it.

For the past 140 days I've been in a treatment facility run by Travis County...not a privately funded rehab, but a weird mash-up of jail, alcohol/drug seminars and daycare. Before that I was a trustee in Travis County Jail downtown for a month and a half. 6 months of no internet, cell phone, cigarettes or real coffee.

I've been out of the loop.

Last summer, I was arrested for public intoxication at the end of a 14-hour string of alcohol consumption during my 20-year high school reunion. Arrested in Luling? During the Watermelon Thump? It was a dream come true. It was shortly afterward that I quit drinking...see my August 7th blog (or don't...your web surfing is your business).

Karma came calling. FYI, you shouldn't get arrested when on felony DWI probation. Motion to revoke probation, so I turned myself in. I left for what I thought was a couple weeks...I haven't been back to San Antonio since. That was September 12th...my mother drove me...on her birthday. I changed my sobriety date to 9-12, because I want my 1-year to make her next b-day better than the last. That was just shitty.

In jail, I became resentful that I was waiting around for multiple weeks to go to a 5-month treatment when all they needed to do was put an ankle monitor on me! I only had a year of probation left. I've been doing really well...if you ignore that whole "heroin addiction" thing and drinking.

I lucked out and had great counselors in that treatment center. Despite being run inconsistently and sans logic, I worked on myself, my control issues and my fucked-up thinking. I thought I was ready to go back to my life...and then 4 weeks ago I found out I would be staying in Austin.

Fear hit me. Hard. All the old memories, old hangouts...14 years of craziness, and I'd be right back in the middle of it. I wasn't happy.

But the more I thought about it, I needed to face this city, my history and the burned bridges. The old drug contacts were gone, I'd be under supervision and I'd have some serious support. So I mentally prepared myself, and so far it's working out. I've never lived in south Austin before, and I moved into a sober house on S. Lamar. (The term "soberhouse" means "the state of smoking cigarettes in awkward silence with other guys who have fucked shit up as well".) This city has changed in 2 years...and there's a bunch of things here I never checked out in my previous lifestyle. It's like a different city...or a different perception of this city.

I've always been honest about what's been going on with me, so I wanted to explain the last 6 months. Sure, I didn't relapse on needles...but I went back to booze like that wasn't a bad thing. Socially acceptable self-destruction is still self-destruction.

I have to complete 6 months of meetings and probation. I have to use this time to develop the clear-headed me, and I'll have help: good friends, family, a portable breathalizer, classes, meditation (I'm Zen as fuck) and desire. I have some work ahead of me. Expect to see me out and about as you drive around in south Austin. I'll be the skinny older guy on the skateboard.

Don't know what else to tell you. I need to look for more work, play some chess, learn some Tai Chi, smoke less, pay off Travis County, read, write...

Breathe.

Grabbing at Straws

Clever, eh? The title of this blog describes drinking for me now.

Let's placate my ego for a paragraph. 8 alcohol arrests. 15 years of drinking. 4 fights...about 12 near misses, fight wise...2 totaled cars...countless great moments...and double that in scary awful nights.

Let's be real.

I am a huge fan of alcohol and drugs. I am the Charles Barkley of drugs. Big fan...just can't play the sport anymore.

Yay for me. I haven't done hardcore shit (aka heroin) for a long time. But yet, I'll drink after work like I can do it normally. Guess what? I can't.

I came to San Antonio to get away from drugs. That makes my friends here laugh, but hey, I don't have contacts here. And seriously...White guys in their late 30's can't just wander around going, "Hey, do you have the drugs?" here.

But you can drink, can't you?

I went to Austin last week for two days. I visited the bars I wanted to, did a show, and hung out with good friends.

Some of these friends bought me alot of drinks upon my request. God bless them for pretending I was the same guy from 2005-6. Turns out I'm not.

I'm not going back to Austin. Not to avoid drug dealers...although I couldn't find them if I wanted to. Seriously...I used to buy junk on east 6th...but dealers have been replaced by white hipsters. Weird, man.

Not going back to Austin until I get sobriety in check. If you ask any friend of mine about the worst they've seen me, they'll tell you about the dark time I was a shadow...a junkie...a leech on anyone that came around me. And thanks to Lifetime Recovery and people who truly love me, I pulled out of that life that almost killed me 4 times.

But if you analyze shit right...I have never been arrested for drugs. 3 DWI's. 5 PI's. Heroin may have destroyed my job and relationship in 2010, but alcohol bumped and setted that shit way beforehand.

I forgot that this past year. I slipped...started getting drunk like a "normal person" again...sure, they don't have syringes on display at Valero, so it's easy to avoid that demon...but man, ain't beer great after a hard day?

Tonight was the last straw. That really sucks because technically last Monday should have been the last straw. Last Monday I saw all my Austin friends for the last time, and wow...they got to see me...they got to see me be self-centered, drunk and douchebag-ish. (I'm sorry Steph, Tim, Roger and especially Jen)

Even posting this blog is dangerous to my probation, but I've already told my p.o. about shit...and as much as the truth hurts...it's better than to continually lie to yourself.

A week ago today my friend blasted me with truth. It was not anything that I already knew...no revelation...but it sucked because someone else other that myself knew it. "Hey, you sucked and you know it." Fuck.

A week later...Doing great, then I decide to dabble...and I discovered something.

I am emotionally detatched. I used to think I drink because of boredom, but I actually drink to avoid any possibility of experiencing feelings because past heartache may arise and I'm avoiding pain.

That's just my intro to psych analysis.


So tonight...I say goodbye Jameson...I say goodbye Lone Star...goodbye Irish Carbomb, you inappropriately titled motherfucker. I'm done, assholes. Otherwise, my friends will organize pallbearers instead of bar friends for a half-assed intervention. Oh, and seriously...You guys really should stop worrying about me and then have a shot. That's fucked up. Hahahahaha...

Goodbye booze. See you when I see you.

"I'm down on the upside now. Turning back around..."