Every time I log into WP Admin to write a post, which isn’t often lately, I see the button at the bottom of the login screen that says Remember Me.  I chuckle.  I wonder if my website wonders where the hell I’ve been.

Certainly not on social media, that’s for sure.  I’ve cut down my FB usage to a bare trickle.  I have a filtered group of five or six people I deign to follow, but beyond that, it’s done for me.  It became a sickly cancerous place for me; I’ve got a chat client that I use to for daily communication with certain unnamed individuals, but beyond that, I’m not interested in the feed anymore.  If someone has something cool they want to show me, hey, I’m game, but I like the interaction that goes along with, “Hey, I saw something I thought you might like and wanted to send it to you.”  It makes me feel that I’m on people’s minds and that’s a far healthier relationship for me than trying to drink from the firehose of people’s thoughts.  It just got to cacophonous and it’s not for me anymore.  Not that I’ve had the time anyway.

I just wrapped up my second term of school with nary a point lost in this last class.  That puts my First Year Composition aggregate grade at a 99%.  I’ll take it, even though I don’t think aggregation matters to the school; it matters to me, though, so fuck it.  Nice work, me.  I’ve got a couple weeks off before I start the mid-level English classes, but then it’s a few curveballs:  I gotta get this fucking math class booked, but I’ve gotta bone up on my skills first.  No joke.  I’m remedial.  This makes me happy in a really sick way.  But the best part is the four-term Spanish program that starts in two months.  Ivonne is gonna have a field day correcting all my shit.  I’m hoping it satiates her desires to tell me how to drive.  (I LOVE YOU!)

Speaking of which, this last Tuesday marked fourteen years of marriage.  Despite the bouquet of flowers that arrived without the god damned card it was a pretty phenomenal day.  We went to dinner at Born and Raised, I ate the best steak I’d had in years – but I’m not a steak guy, so that might not mean much – and we came home to a quiet night of long-term digestion.  To Full To Fuck is real, kids.  But that brings up a good point:  We’ve never been ones to insist on sex for holidays, like anniversaries, birthdays, christmases, and the like.  We didn’t fuck on our wedding night so non-fucking is more of an annual tradition than fucking.  Not that I’d have a problem with it, of course.  I’m just saying; this is what we do.  With that in mind, though, I’m not being hyperbolic when I say that this was one of the best anniversaries that we’ve ever had for a myriad of reasons, but those are ours.  I’m just really proud of us.

Yet, I’m proud of me, too.  I’m not perfect in any way but I’ve made a lot of significant life changes since a year ago.  I was worried that I’d fall back into patterns of commitment and change, only to see them fall away as I lost momentum.  Not this time.  Sure, I’m not doing yoga as much as I should but in reality, that’s the only piece that’s waned as other commitments wax.  Having a healthy fear of going back to the past keeps me focused; this is something I bring up quite a bit in my AA group.  Lots of people have ‘higher powers’ they use to keep themselves going.  Mine is memory.  I remember what it felt like to have everything I cherish almost lost.  I keep that front and center.  I vacillate between not wanting to care about a sobriety anniversary and recognizing how important it is to the people around me.  I’m glad for them; I’m glad for me, too, but this is a dichotomy I need to explore in more detail later.  For now, though, I’m a year in and I’m proud of myself.  I know they are, too.

So yeah, that’s where we are.  Jason’s wedding is coming up, I’m knee-deep in work shiz and we’re right back to it.

Not much going on at all. 😉

 

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