When possible, I like to get computers into the hands of hobbyists rather than recyclers. When I worked in computer recycling, we’d take electric screwdrivers to these cool, old school computers and rip out anything valuable. What once processed software now was processed for aluminum and copper. Nothing wrong with the changes of time. We should advance even if it means getting rid of things that still have value; we should just try recycling responsibly.
Writing this five-part series about passing seven years of sobriety has been exhausting. Anxiety over current events hasn’t helped. Although I don’t see a reason why my sobriety would be broken between now and year eight, this degree of self-examination has left me feeling exhausted. When I write essays normally, it’s guiding along my perspective, rather than addressing my own inadequacies. I try to do this whenever possible to bleed out false pretenses and arrogance.
In previous entries into this series, I wrote about the events that inspired my sobriety – seeing Clutch. I’ve taken some meandries because how many thousands of words can one write about any topic? Well, there is still the matter of addressing the question of how often do I want to go back to those simpler times? Although my life is much better “clean and mostly serene,” there is one major disadvantage: you can’t fully relax.
I don’t have any media – video or audio – from my sobriety date where I saw Clutch live. The event happened. I’m not looking for evidence, rather, reinvigorating memories for pleasure. When people would trash-talk others for taking videos that they’d never watch, well, that might have been true for most, before, but now with minimum two-week self-isolation orders around the US and the world, I think we would look back at that media fondly now.
Without looking, I forget how many times I’ve seen Clutch live, just like many times I forget my sobriety date. Both, and many other examples, exist nebulously in my mind, imagination, and memories as events that happened that shaped me into who I am. Going outside, even trivially to throw out trash, can shape us, so not everything we do is overly serious. Still, the most noteworthy events tend to exist outside of arbitrary pedantries.
I was irresponsible, in mostly small ways, throughout most of March 2013, leading up to seeing Clutch at Showbox at the Market on the 29th. I drunk enough to not notice someone else do something more embarrassing than anything I was doing, to not notice the show, but to notice it was time for a lifestyle change. Over the years, I’ve returned to this event, as I will in years to come. Let’s instead consider totalities.
Before Tripping On The American Healthcare System, I generally thought most published medical information was good enough. Shouldn’t a book from the 70s about healthcare still be relevant today? Human bodies haven’t changed much, right? It’s our understanding of the human body, the mind, and how all that intertwines that has changed. If the doctors of today are reliant on the information of yesterday, they will be more likely to make harmful assumptions about patients.
I woke up uncharacteristically unmotivated. I wasn’t sick, headached, or otherwise hurting from anything major. If anything, the fatigue of a long workweek was dragging me down into subtle slumber. These are the times when I’m OK with detaching from reality for a short spell. How long depends on how long it takes to conjure up the mental resilience against the silent distractions that prevent me from working. About one hour or two, typically, suffices.
I’m winding down in the amount of new information I’m learning from physical therapy. It’s good because my headaches are a mirage from two weeks ago, but that means I’m spending a majority of my hour, heavily-discounted thanks to my insurance, going through the same neck, shoulder, and arm exercises until I reach fatigue – solo. That’s fine and I’m glad I’m not dotted on, but still, it’s different than it was before where I was…
I have many items around the apartment-mansion I want to sell, more to get rid of than to turn a profit on, yet there will be weeks at a time where I won’t post anything to sell. The biggest reason for that is just the lack of motivation toward getting out there, being social, and experiencing new situations. The question becomes, then, how many more weeks can I afford not posting anything new to sell?