Thursday, June 9, 2011

I'm In Love Alright, With My Crazy Beautiful Life.


Here's a little misuse of the word "Irony". Or maybe it will be proper use. I neither know nor care enough to look it up prior to getting on with this.

Anyone who's known me for a decent amount of time knows that I've always, ALWAYS kept a journal in some way shape or form. That I have a box of diaries from my childhood (hey, wait, where'd that go? Shoot, I'm 26. Oh yea. That happened) and then eventually a Dead Journal (ha) and then a Live Journal (double ha). Which then brings us to this. Although this isn't necessarily a daily log of my oh-so-interesting life (I'll get to the "How To Set Your Microwave on Fire...Twice" entry another time), it's a place I put down words. It's a sporadic record of my life. I've always felt the reason I do this is because (and I've even mentioned this here) sometimes it's hard to believe that the past actually happened, and I like to have proof that it did.

Which brings me to the irony part. Or potentially ironic if used correctly part. After my last entry, February 5th, 2010, where I was saying how content I was with life, I haven't written anything down anywhere. Probably because between then and somewhat recently, everything that was going on in my life involved having a drink in my hand. Kinda hard to type with a drink in your hand. Yea, you can go on vacations, take road trips, canoe, go bowling, watch movies, host parties, go to brunch, play scrabble, put together a puzzle, etc. etc. etc. All while having a drink in your hand. But typing, or at least actually writing, requires one to have both hands readily available. And a somewhat clear head on their shoulders.

I played kick ball in Astoria Park last Sunday. Four hours, with about 40 awesome strangers. Not a single person was drinking anything alcoholic. This is not something that would have happened in my life two months ago. Maybe the kick ball part, but not the sobriety part.

It's nice to not always have that drink in my hand. And to write again. This was short and sweet, but I'll be back. And not in a year and a half.