A drunk pretends that he can change

Here's how drunk I've been: I recently thought about blogging for the first time, but it wasn't the first time. I started this blog maybe eight years ago, around 2010, but completely forgot about it. I began my first post back then and never published it until today, the fifth of November, 2018. I forgot a lot of things in my haze. I don't even remember what the title of that post was supposed to mean. Time to close what gap? Writing I guess, which I used to be able to do.

Matrimony didn't happen as I had predicted in that first post, thankfully. It might have been drinking that brought that relationship down, and if so, I'm glad I had whiskey on my side. At times it has saved my ass. Like Mojo Nixon used to say: "Why do I drink? To take away the pain of living." That's the trouble I've had with it. I genuinely believe that it actually saved my life. Maybe that's why I never let go of it until yesterday, but that probably won't last. I'm trying. I've got to find success, because now it hurts more than it helps.

Obviously it changes people, but I haven't wanted to admit that for at least 18 years, maybe a lot longer. I don't want to dwell on that now, though. I'm in an entirely different place, space and frame of mind. I once had a powerful brain in my head, and I want it back.

The different place is Albuquerque, New Mexico, and what brought me here was discontent. I left behind that career as a telephone cable splicer because it bored me to death and because I was surrounded by complainers. Long story short, the company paid for my education (a union benefit), I got it and left them. I am now a soil scientist who must master that discipline along with botany, geology, climate, and ecology. An f-ing scientist. Sometimes I can't believe it, but I'm here. I've got a long way to go to legitimately lay claim to that professional label, but it is indeed my job title, and I'm going to own it.

The different space is maybe not so different. It's actually quite familiar. I'm at the bottom looking up, and I feel like I've been here, off and on, for years. But something is different now. I don't know what, though. All I know is that I'll blow it if I don't change. And I guess that's the different frame of mind. Here in my mid-50s I've got the opportunities of a young person with a new career in a new town. A good old-fashioned American second chance. Now to overcome the forces that seem whiskey-bent and hell-bound to hold me back. It's not just the bottle, but tonight, at least, I'll go to bed completely sober for the first time in a long time.