Lisbon

The other day when I was writing about Disneyland I mentioned my trip to Portugal in 2001 and said I should tell that story. Today seems like as good a day as any for that. Originally, the trip was my friend's idea. It was when I was living in Philadelphia and smoking pot with the Duchess of Broad St. (not his real name) every day. When I say we smoked every day, I'm exaggerating of course. It couldn't have been more than six nights a week at most. I know that because I remember smoking pot with other people when the Duchess wasn't around.

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious

Note: The one-word title thing is starting to tax my imagination.

Last night I posted the top ten songs from Disney animated films as sung by the characters in the films. Tonight it's my top ten songs from those films sung by pop singers. Some of the songs on the list are the official versions from the end credits and some are covers. They were all fun to listen to again. I might need to make a play list.

200

Tonight's post is the 200th post on psquared to the nth. [Balloons fall from the ceiling.] To celebrate, I thought I'd choose a topic I'm really passionate about – Disney music. I love it. It's really ridiculous too, because I don't generally love Broadway musicals and I typically hate movie musicals (with the exceptions of Grease and Xanadu). For some reason though, cartoon characters breaking out in song works for me. I'm going to do this post in two parts (part two tomorrow night). Tonight's list will be my favorite songs from Disney animated features – sung by the characters in the movie. Tomorrow night will be my ten favorite pop versions of songs from Disney movies. To keep it interesting, the rule is that a song can only go on one list. So you won't see the biggies on this list tonight because they will most likely be on tomorrow's list. These songs are as much about the movies as they are the songs. Enjoy!

Stuff

We moved in to our new apartment in Los Angeles last month. My boyfriend drove all of his belongings across the country and we moved many of my belongings from the house downstairs where I was staying to the apartment about 200 yards away. Not everything was here though. We then had to drive down to San Diego to get the stuff that I had left in the attic in the house I lived in there. This is the first time since I left Brooklyn in March of 2010 that none of my stuff is in storage. I lived in one (pretty large) room in San Diego. My friend already had a fully equipped house when I got there so a lot my stuff wasn't necessary. Then I moved to LA to go to school and from January to July, it was pretty much the same deal only I had room for even less stuff.

Belinda

The summer is almost over and I haven't seen Belinda Carlisle perform live yet. Two years ago today I got back from a trip to Atlanta and went directly to the Go-Go's concert at the Greek Theater on Belinda's birthday (which of course is today). Then last year I just happened to be in LA in June for something recovery related and I learned that she was performing at the Gay Pride festival that night. It feels like a Southern California tradition now to see Belinda in the summer.

SBS*

If you don't count one semester at the University of Tampa when I was 17 and two months in Monterrey when I was 21, I've lived in four cities in my life – two of them two separate times. I was in Philadelphia the first 23 years of my life, San Diego for the next nine, Philadelphia for five more, New York for seven and a half (two years in Manhattan, two in Astoria, one in Manhattan and two and a half in Brooklyn), back to San Diego for almost three and now in Los Angeles since January. If nothing else, I am good at moving. You'd have an easier time keeping track of someone in witness protection than of knowing my whereabouts from one year to the next.

Disneyland

I went to Disneyland by myself today. I had never been there alone before and since I have an annual pass, I decided to see how different it would be solo. I knew it wouldn't be weird or uncomfortable. I go places by myself all the time – the beach, the movies, Portugal. Hmm. Maybe later in the month I'll blog about that trip. It's a pretty good story. I wholeheartedly recommend going to a European country alone. One of the two or three best vacations of my life. But I digress (there's a shocker).

APPeal

I realized something as I was sitting around doing next to nothing today. Here I am two-thirds of the way through my master's program in digital strategy and social media, and I haven't posted anything relating to those topics yet this month. I know I posted about school, but I feel like I should at least be talking about some of this stuff that I spend all my time looking at, thinking about, learning and using. Don't worry though. I'm not writing about anything intellectual (god forbid). What I'm going to do is show you some mobile apps I love that you may or may not already know about. I'll try to stay away from the really obvious ones like Instagram. Who knows, maybe one of them will end up on your phone tomorrow.

Miracle

There is something that people “in recovery” say to other people in recovery on the anniversary of their sobriety date. Yes, congratulations and happy birthday. Not those. I haven't heard it quite as much recently, but as my life has gotten bigger and more busy I suppose I spend less time around people in recovery as I used to. I say it as well. “You're a miracle.”

Anonymous

A friend on Facebook shared a link to an interesting article today. The article is a month old now, but since I just saw it today it's new to me. It's from The New York Times Television section. It's written by Kristen Johnson, who apparently is starring in a series on TV Land these days. I remember her from 3rd Rock from the Sun, a television show so old that it's from a time when I didn't realize Joseph Gordon Levitt was hot. I'll summarize, but in case you want to read it for yourself, here's the link:Turning Addiction into a Sideshow.

Hell

I'm buried in my final paper for my Research Methodology class, which is due tomorrow. Trust me when I tell you that you don't want to read anything I'm writing tonight.

Witches

I was scrolling through the stats of my blog today. Recently I've begun looking occasionally to see which posts have gotten the most attention. I used to only look at the five or six that were on the screen when I posted the new one, but since I've been in grad school studying digital and social media strategy, I've tried to be more aware of what engages y'all and what doesn't. Of course, internet metrics are tricky. Sometimes weird things cause can cause glitches in the stats. For instance, according to the blog stats, on July 29 my blog had over 1700 pageviews. That would be awesome, if there were any real chance it were true. I question it because all the days since (when there have been new posts) have averaged between 75 and 150 pageviews (there aren't a lot of you reading this thing). So it's always risky trying to draw any conclusions from the data. But what the hell? I don't have anything better to do today.

Whitney

I was sitting here completely blank. I literally couldn't think of one thing to write about. For all the gaps in time between blog posts, you might think that happens all the time. In reality, it almost never happens. The gaps occur because I'm not disciplined enough to sit my ass down and demand that I bang my fingers on the keyboard to produce something other than a pithy (in my opinion) status update. Usually, within a few minutes of sitting down something comes to me. Tonight, panic was almost setting in. I resorted to just aimlessly surfing the web for an idea. Guess what? It turns out Whitney Houston would have turned 50 today.

Boi-cott!

I've taken some heat recently (and in the past) because of my belief that boycotts, while having their place in society, are now the lazy man's tool of political action. I've stated several times that I feel like in most cases boycotts are all for show, a way for us to feel and look like we care about civil rights causes without actually doing anything about it. I'm doubling down on that statement now. I now think boycotts are becoming detrimental to social and political change movements.

Doubt

When I started writing this blog in November of 2009, I had a couple of goals. One was just to start writing again. I had this notion that I couldn't write unless I was high, so for the first two years of sobriety I barely even tried to write. Every once in a while I would post something on my old blog, but in two years I think I put up five posts. Then Friendster, where my old blog was hosted (god that sounds ridiculous now – I had a blog on Friendster), changed its server or something and my entire blog got erased because I hadn't paid the $2.95 a month to keep it active. Just about everything was gone.

Tweenybopper

So the first four days of the month I was trying this “one-word title” gimmick. But I'm having trouble condensing the idea for tonight's post – Five Songs I Love that I'm Pretty Sure I'm Supposed to Hate – into one word. I'll think on it while I'm writing. If I do come up with a one-word title, I'll leave this paragraph here so at least you'll know what the hell this is supposed to be about.

Remarkable

For as many times as I tried to smoke meth under a blanket to avoid detection by “them”, it's actually a miracle I never set anything (or anyone) on fire. Of course there was the last time I did it, which was the last time I used almost six years ago. But that was not even close to the only time. In fact, by the time that happened I was getting pretty good at it. I'd figured out that two chairs was better for draping the blanket over rather than one chair and my head. Actually, I might have just realized that now. I'm fairly certain that never occurred to me when it would have been a useful thing to know.

Sloth

Tonight's post looks to be mostly just a placeholder so I don't fall off the writing-every-day wagon two days in. To be fair, I am writing today. It's just that I'm writing a report on the time capsule survey I fielded a few weeks ago. You may remember an earlier post where I asked you all to complete it. Much to my surprise and delight, 243 people responded.

Crazy

There are two (at least) reasons I like to write every day in August. One reason is that I tend to get a little crazy at this time every year. Not only is my sobriety date in August, but my father's birthday is this month as well. The combination seems to knock me off kilter just a bit. The good news is that now I know it's coming. As I approached my first sober anniversary in 2008, I was a madman and I had no idea what the hell was going on (I suppose for those of you that insist it is wrong to end a sentence with a preposition I had no idea on what the hell was going).I was just filled with anxiety and had a knot in my stomach almost constantly.

Imperfect

Well, I guess all the pressure is off this year. Regular readers of the blog might know that I have a tradition in August (the month I got sober) of trying to post something on the blog every day of the month. In 2011 I did it – 33 posts in 31 days. Last year, I only actually got something up on the blog 28 of the days. Since I completely spaced on yesterday being August 1, I blew it right from the get-go. But one of the biggest differences in me today from six years ago is that I no longer am willing to let the inability to be perfect stop me from making an effort. So, I’m going to give it a go and see if I can do better than last year and hit 30 of the 31 days this month.

Please Do My Homework for Me

Just a quick post today to ask for your help. As part of my master's program in digital strategies and social media at USC, I have to field an online survey. The survey looks at the correlation between physical time capsule* participation and the use of online photo-sharing websites and mobile apps. Obtaining responses from a large and diverse group of people is essential to ensure the results are representative. The survey should take approximately five minutes to complete. No, really. The average completion time is under five minutes.

If you could take the survey and share the link with any friends or family you think would be willing to take it, that would be awesome. I'll post the findings here in case you're interested to see them.

Time Capsules and Photo-Sharing Websites and Mobile Apps

*For the purposes of this survey, a time capsule is described as a collection of objects and information contributed by a group of people as a means of communication with a group of people (either that same group or a different group) in the future. Time capsules are often created as part of a ceremony or celebration (high school graduation, the bicentennial anniversary of a city, etc.). A time capsule is sealed and buried (or otherwise stored) with the intention of having it opened at a later date.

You Probably Won't Like This

I have a feeling I'm going to piss some people off tonight. We've become a country that will not only shoot the messenger when we don't like the message, we'll try to make sure he can't get healthcare for the gunshot wound. Anyway, I've been thinking about (like just about everyone I know) the impending decisions from the Supreme Court on marriage equality. There was a sentiment on Facebook today that because the Court issued a ruling that flagrantly hurts non-republican voters (giving southern states that previously had to get pre-approval from the federal government to change voter registration laws the go ahead to just do as they please from here on out), we might be in trouble tomorrow. After thinking on it a little bit, I feel like that ruling may (MAY, not will) be good for the marriage equality rulings.

Slumber in the Grass -- 2013 Wimbledon Women's Preview

Chris Evert / Martina Navratilova

Tonight we look at the women's draw. Unfortunately, I can't only preview the women who have a real shot at winning the tournament because then it would just be a blog post about Serena Williams. And while there certainly is enough material to fill an entire blog just about her last few weeks, this post is about Wimbledon. So, we'll run down most of the usual suspects (and maybe one or two unusual ones). Onward.

The Men of the All-England Club -- 2013 Wimbledon Preview

Feliciano Lopez

It's been a while. I haven't written about tennis since last August (hell, I haven't written about anything here since March). It's strange though, because being in grad school has given me the opportunity to watch way more tennis this year than I have in about the last three. Spread the textbooks all over the bed and pretend to read them while watching eight hours of the Tennis Channel. Sadly, I won't get to watch as much of Wimbledon because: A. Research Methodology (or whatever the class is called) is sucking the life out of me; and 2. I'll be in Philly the first week of the tournament for my nephew's wedding.

Since we all know how bored I get writing about players I don't care about, I'm not even going to bother listing the ones that don't matter this time. It's just a waste of a strike-through. Enough chit-chat. Here we go.

What I Learned ...

… from Gretchen Fox, owner of the consulting firm, grtchfx.com, who was our guest speaker for last week's class.

(with a shout out to Esquire magazine for the format)

Note: I wrote this for my Intro to Online Communities class. I'm sharing it here for two reasons: A. I think y'all will find it useful and interesting; and 2. I've always wanted to do a What I've Learned (it's my favorite Esquire feature) so I'm not passing up the opportunity to post it on my blog.

p²'s Favorite Songs of 2012: Time Travel Edition, Part Two

Previously on p² to the nth: p² traveled back in time to post part one of his favorite songs of 2012. If you missed it, you can read it here: Part One

Without any further fanfare, here are the top 11 songs on the list.

p²'s Favorite Songs of 2012: Time Travel Edition, Part One

We're getting in my time machine today. When I should have been writing this blog post I was applying to grad school, running around like a crazy person trying to get admitted to grad school, irresponsibly driving to San Francisco for NYE and running around like a crazy person trying to get moved to LA in time to start grad school. So we're just going to pretend I posted this in December and you're just getting around to reading it now.

Something else I was doing in the months since I last wrote anything for this blog (I posted my grad school application essay but I didn't write that for my blog) was falling in love. I mention that because you'll probably notice a proliferation of love songs and “I'm super happy and bouncy because I'm in love” songs.

In fact, even though this song is from 2006 it's probably been the most-played song on my iPhone since October. As if I didn't love this song enough already.



So, you'll find periodic references to someone named Michael. That's him.

While I was time traveling, I decided to write this backwards this year. Usually by the time I get to the number one song, I'm so done that I can barely think of anything more to say. This year, I wrote the blurbs starting with number one and worked my way down. However, I'm not posting it that way. I love a big reveal. The only reason I even mention it is to reassure you that part two of this post is already written and waiting to be posted tomorrow. I know I sometimes promise a part two and then take my sweet time getting to it. You can enjoy this knowing you won't be left hanging.

15 More Songs to Add to Your Christmas Collection

It's been three years since my last Christmas music post and it feels like it's time. I might even update the other post with some fresh comments so I can repost it later this week. Back then I didn't know you could embed the videos right into the post so I can definitely do some revising on that one.

The first post contained 26 of my favorite Christmas songs (my favorite versions of those songs actually), but it was by no means exhaustive. And in the intervening three years I've added several new favorites. You'll be shocked to find American Idol contestants dominating this list I'm sure. They are listed by the play count on my iTunes. That feature is notoriously unreliable, but with a couple of exceptions it did a pretty good job of ranking them (if only because some of the lower ranked ones are the most recent additions to my collection).

Purpose

Since so many people are at least partially responsible for me having the guts and the ability to apply for grad school, I thought I would share my statement of purpose with y'all.

I agonized over how to do this for weeks before I finally sat down Thursday afternoon to start writing it. Six hours (and 600 breaks and distractions) later, I had 800 dreadful words written. On the advice of a friend, I decided to just start writing it like it was just another blog post. In two hours I cranked out 2100 words. Success. Ish.

I turned it over to a couple of friends whose opinions I respect totally and asked them each to edit it. Here's the thing. I have almost never been edited in my entire writing life. When I worked at the newspaper I was the editor and the only one with a journalism background, so I had to edit my own stuff. At the HR website, I was the editor and did very little writing. And of course no one edits the stuff I write for my blog.

So when suggestions came back that required me to rethink parts of what I'd written, to say I was freaked out would be an understatement on par with “Lindsay Lohan is a bit spoiled.” I spent about two hours needing to be emailed and talked off the ledge. Ultimately, I took the suggestions (because they were good) and the end result is probably 30-50 percent better than the original. So here's what I submitted. It's basically my whole blog in 2000 words.

Quitter

So, just this morning I posted on Facebook that I wish I had a job where I had to write something new every day. I still feel that way, but I wish I didn't have to do it at 10:30 at night. The only downside to having a really full life is that my life is really full. I haven't stopped all day. So now I'm here trying to thing of some way to entertain you and I've gotta tell you – I got nothin'.

But you know what I do have. Something I wrote when I was high about writing every day. I haven't posted anything from back then in a while and I think y'all might find it amusing to see how different my brain was back on Halloween 2006 (which is when this was written). Technically it's not a repost because it never made it to the blog. Not because I didn't think it was any good (I actually CTM'd – chuckled to myself – a couple of times while reading it just now); it never made it to the blog because I never finished it. In fact, it just stops. And I'm not going to add anything. So when you get to the end, well that's the end. Enjoy.

Bitch!

Tonight, I'm going to give you a taste of what my days sounded like at the end of August and the beginning of September in 2007. You may think I'm cheating because there won't be a whole lot of writing involved, but after two very long days in a row (one awesome, one frustrating), this is all I've got tonight. And it's a blog post I've wanted to write for a long time.

Always a Place

I hardly know what to say. I know that tonight I'm going to sleep sober for the 1827th night in a row; I also know that's a friggin' miracle. Oh, and I know I didn't come close to doing this myself. ADD alert – I just noticed that my sobriety date is 8-27 and today is the 1827th day. Cool, huh?

I must have cried a half dozen times today. Thank god I'm not one of those queens that wears makeup. I would have looked all Tammy Fay Baker and shit – because a couple of them were on the verge of being ugly cries. But in a good way. I'm really overwhelmed with gratitude by this. I think I'm supposed to be saying things like, “It's just another day.” And “We all only have today.” But what I feel like, “CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS SHIT?? I'M FIVE!”

August 26, 2007

I’m in San Francisco this weekend, for the very first time sober. Lots of strange things happened whenever I was here back in the day. One time I smoked and drank so much on the first day here I lost my voice for the rest of the weekend. That was an interesting visit. So this trip is not really like any of the ones before.

What did happen tonight was I ended up at a meeting in a room that was strikingly similar to the studio apartment I was staying in the last time I used crystal meth, five years ago this weekend. I was sitting there tonight looking around as the memory of that last night came back vividly – not in a bad way though. In fact, I was really grateful to be having the flashback (which was good because the topic of the meeting was gratitude).

2012 US Open -- Women's Preview

As I was making the video to go with this post, I realized that after this tournament Kim Clijsters will be gone. I know she retired once before, but I'm pretty sure it's for real and forever this time. She made the statement that she her body won't let her play the way she wants to play anymore. I feel ya girl! Getting old sucks and she plays a game almost as physical as Rafael Nadal.

With Kim retiring and Venus Williams only good for two or three wins a tournament now, I'm down to rooting for Maria Sharapova and hoping Sabine Lisicki can learn how play on another surface besides grass. Honestly, it's pretty depressing. But we still have one more chance – however slim – to see Kim and Jada holding up the US Open trophy, so let's get on with it.

2012 US Open -- Men's Preview

The Olympics sure did crowd up the schedule. Usually by the time the US Open rolls around it seems like Wimbledon was ages ago. Thanks to the fact that they essentially played it twice this summer, it seems like it was just yesterday. Anyone who showed up to the blog today looking for more wacky adventures of psquared will have to wait until Saturday for that to resume. Men's draw analysis tonight, women's tomorrow.

I'm not as excited about the Open as I usually am. I'm not sure if it's because how quickly it seems to have gotten here or what. But on we go anyway. I'll try to make it as “me” as always. You'll notice that the player's home country is in parentheses. There is no reason for that except that when I copied and pasted the list, that's how I got it. I listed all 32 seeds, but I'm sure you'll figure out quickly who I'm not impressed by.

ReTox

When I got out of detox (see The Crucible, Part III – Reality Check for the story story of how I got there -- strangely enough, I still have never written the story of what happened there), I was high again within 24-36 hours. I knew I needed to get sober (for a while), but I also knew that there was no way it was going to happen without something way more structured than a four-day stint in detox. I was still in Philly that first day, so I went downtown to meet with some counselor or something. I don't really remember the details, but there was some place the people at the detox hospital told me I had to go within 24 hours of getting out of detox.

Doctor Smiley Surferdude

After almost 1500 words last night, how about a shorty tonight. I've had a ridiculous headache all night and apparently the cortisone shot that the doctor gave me in my elbow yesterday caused something called cortisone flare. We'll get to that in a moment or two.

First off, friggin' ADD strikes again. I had this whole plan laid out that I would wait until the middle of September to go to the doctor because I knew when I went I was going to have to stop working out for at least a couple of weeks (turns out it's longer). I have a couple of trips coming up and being a gay man, I certainly didn't want to have to stop working out until after all my gay travel was done.

COPS! Part 3

The one nice thing about writing every day is that it's easier to just write the Part 3 to a blog post trilogy the day after Part 2 instead of waiting three months like I did between parts 1 and 2. This was my final attempt to “turn myself in”.

[About the song: I always thought it was more than coincidental that Addicted was on the album

 she released when my drug use was escalating and Sober was on the album 

she released the summer I got sober. But it was ironic that I used to play this song over and over 

on my iPod and not have any idea I could have written it.]

COPS! Part 2

Reminder: sentences in italics are the voices.

OMG! I finally remembered the third cops story. In fact, the third story is actually the second incident chronologically so I'm going to tell that one first.

This happened the day before the voices chased me out of NYC to Philadelphia. I'm not going to tell the story of that whole saga, just what happened toward the end. If I ever decide to write that whole post, this saga will be featured prominently near the end.

What Was I Just Doing?

Well, it took this long but we've finally come to the night where I just don't have anything to say or any excuse to not say it. What does that even mean? In other words, I have no good reason to not write a blog post tonight (like being at Disneyland for 16 hours) but really I have very little to say.

That's not completely true. There are some things that I could probably write about if I wanted to stay up for two more hours and really work on something. But I'm exhausted, it's been a pretty long day and I have a ridiculous headache. So, staying up until two in the morning isn't really an option right now.

Psquared Can't Be Still

Over the last couple years (if you've read my blog that long) you've probably learned a lot about me. I guess the first thing is that I'm willing to reveal a lot (not all) about myself pretty easily. But a couple other things you might know about me by now are that I have ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder) that is more than just a little bit difficult for me to manage and that I just forgot what the second thing was. Hold on. I'll read the first two sentences and it will come to me. Oh, right. I have a Facebook obsession. Come to think of it, you might only know that if you're my friend on Facebook. Now I'm not completely sure I've ever made that clear on my blog. Whatever. Let's move on.

PvD, PvD, PvD!!

Tonight's post is all about the song. Five years ago tomorrow marks the infamous “PvD in Central Park” debacle. If you read my blog regularly, you know the story of what happened when I decided to go to the Paul van Dyk concert in Central Park in August, 2007. If you're new to the blog or just don't remember, you can read about it here: Phree or here: Saturday in the Park. Yep, that's right. There are two separate blog posts about it (August 26, 2010 and August 14, 2011). That's the awesome part of having ADD. I just keep doing things over and over because I don't remember I've already done them.

It Takes a Village, Part Two

Last night I wrote about my first two sponsors. Tonight, as promised, I'll tell you about the other three. It's amazing (and a little magical) to me how incredibly different all of the guys are and still each of them was exactly what I needed at that point in time.

When B told me he was moving, I became pretty frustrated. I was feeling like the universe was really trying to make my recovery difficult. In three months' time, I had lost two sponsors and had a potential sponsor snatched away before I even got the chance to ask him. Clearly, I just wasn't supposed to have a sponsor. This is the way addicts think. Oh, it's hard. I must not be supposed to do it. And they was my outlook on life for all the years before I got sober. I had this notion that the easiest thing was always the thing that was “meant to be”.

Right Back At Ya Makayla

I saw this picture at the zoo over the weekend and the first thing I thought was, "He looks just like Makayla." It wasn't till I got home that I realized his name was Silver. How awesome is that?

Silver appears as unimpressed with Makaya as she was with Silver.

This doesn't count as today's post. I just wanted to put it on my blog.

It Takes a Village, Part One

I was planning on writing this post later in the month, but since I gave my sponsor his 15-year cake tonight, I think it's appropriate to do it tonight. In the just under five years I've been sober, I've actually had five sponsors. I know people who have had the same sponsor for eight, nine, ten years. I also know people who have gone through sponsors like Kleenex. I guess I'm somewhere in between. But I feel really blessed to have had (and still have) each of these relationships. So, tonight is dedicated to thanking them and letting you know a little bit about what each one of them gave me. In the interest of anonymity (and because I don't feel like coming up with five suitable pseudonyms), I'm just going to call them by their first initials (with a number to distinguish between the three Cs) – C1, B, C2, C3 and T.

Illogic Model

You would think that if you heard voices all the time, in the most impossible places and situations, your brain would figure out that it was a delusion and you'd be able to move on from it. Wouldn't you? Somehow that wasn't my experience with drug-induced auditory hallucinations. The more far-fetched they became, the more I found shreds of logic to convince me they were real.

Moments of Clarity

People in recovery often talk about their moment of clarity – that moment when they knew it was over and they couldn't keep going on the way they were going. I had one final moment of clarity the morning of August 27, 2007 and it was pretty simple, almost mundane. It was something along the lines of “OK. If this wasn't fun on Sunday night, how the hell is it ever going to be fun on Monday morning.” And with that, I took my stuff and headed off to my outpatient program to really start trying to be sober.

But that was just the final moment. I had several other moments along the way – both small and large – that culminated in that moment. And they were things that may or may not seem like they would have been significant, but I held on to them. And I continued to think about them as I spiraled downward. These moments I believe were the universe laying the groundwork for what was to come. The way I always describe it in meetings is, “God speaks to us where we are, in the language we understand.”

I'll Remember

Sorry about yesterday. We left for Disneyland at 6:30 am and when we got back at 11:30 pm there was just no way that anything was getting written. I drove the last 50 miles home at 90 miles an hour. I figured if I was going to fall asleep at the wheel it didn't matter whether I was going 65 or 90, so I might as well gamble on making it home before I nodded off and killed us both. Don't get me wrong. I don't have a death wish or a disregard for my life; I was just seriously exhausted from running around two theme parks for 12 straight hours and didn't have any real choice except to do everything in my power to get us from Anaheim to San Diego in one piece. Mission accomplished. Anyway, what it means is that I won't be 31 for 31 this month. There are other obstacles coming up along the way – trip to San Francisco, my five-year birthday (which I'm planning on celebrating in LA), the sober round up I'm on the committee for – but I'm going to do my best to be 30 for 31 at the end of the month. The good news is that the old me would have just given up because I wasn't perfect. Now I realize that the real victory is not letting the setback completely derail me. So on we go.

The Tale of The Chocolate Party

The next couple days are going to be shorties because I have a friend here from out of town and I gotta get up at 5 am to go to Disneyland.

One of the things I used to like to do before meth was have parties. None of the other drugs really ever interfered with that. In fact, pot and ecstasy often facilitated the process. I remember getting stoned with one of my best friends in Philly (well, we did that every day so it's kind of hard to forget) and going to see the movie Chocolat. If you are not a recovering drug addict, I highly recommend seeing Chocolat stoned. It was awesome.

Spanglish

How about one more short post about Schmoo? What the hell? We were together two-and-a-half years and good or bad, every day was interesting. The ingredients were just too perfect to not create masterpiece after masterpiece. What have we got here? Two giant egos on two smart guys who both think they're never wrong (and even when they know they're wrong will try to convince you that they're not). Add Schmoo's absurd storytelling ability – every story had three completely separate arcs that would all dovetail together like a Seinfeld episode just at the point where I was screaming, “What the fuck are you talking about?!” Stir in his impeccable timing with tossing out some fractured idiom or syntactically bizarre gem right in the middle of a vicious screaming match. Then top with literally pounds of methamphetamine.