Personal Journal

Heavier Things

Heavier things is the name of that John Mayer album that brought me back from my out of body experience the other day. If you read my journal long enough, or you know what I'm interested in, you'll see themes.

Work, as I attested to, was hard today. I'm unaccostomed to this level of stress just trying to deal with my thoughts and also perform my required duties. But that's not what this entry is about.

In my uncharted mind, I decided to go for a walk today. It's 32 degrees and somewhat windy. I haven't excercised in inclement weather in probably 3 years. I dressed for exercise and cold, and I brought along my one-hitter marijuana pipe.

Bringing along the pipe, and the necessary combustibles, I have to admit that my addiction is playing a big role in my life right now. I really don't care. I'll stop this in the short term, just like I did last time in the long term. But for now, it helps, and I need help. I also popped the new Blues Traveller CD that I bought used at the headshop where I bought the one-hitter. It's an incredibly powerful blues album.

It made for a great walk. I stopped off the trail at one point and practied with the one-hitter. It's not the most efficient device, and I probably should have practiced with it at home before this. But I got two good hits out of it in the snow, and my walk was bolstering to my soul.

I wasn't really that stoned, to tell the truth. As I say, it's inefficient, and in that level of cold, you really don't notice being high. I just know that I breathed a little harder, and the music was incredible. But I didn't have much in the way of body buzz because the cold and exercised dominated what little signal the weed was communicating.

I really felt better during the walk, and after to a point (see below) because... well probably just because of endorphines. But I remember being the man who went bike riding on the ice in 17 degree weather and had a blast. I remember feeling so close to what god intended me to be. I got that feeling again today, out there. And I had a realization that exercise is going to be one of the key tools in me winning my life back.

Yes, I realize the marijuana is unhealthy. That's why I won't wait years to quit like I did when I was 24, when I took my health for granted. If MJ helps me rebuild the plan and my life, it's truly not harming me.

I had a lot of thoughts about my future miniature painting. In addition to being a better player at Warhammer 40K, I also have to take my painting to the next level, so I was thinking a lot about that, what I can try to get done between now and the next tournament, in March. I hope my depression allows me (if that's the proper word) to find the peace and tranquility in my soul that I need to do it.

After my walk, I drove over to Danielle's restaurant for my usual giant beer, fish n chips, and water. New waitress, so I had to teach her the deal. When I say I want to finish my beer before I order, I don't mean that I want to have 3 sips and then order. I mean I want my food to come after I've had my last drink.

I drink excellent beers, and food ruins the flavor of a rich beer, so out of a need to get the most out of my beer, I always refrain from eating when drinking one. So I've taken this out of the server's hands. I refuse to order until I am sure I'll be done with the beer when the food is ready. I've got it down to a science at Danielle's restaurant.

Gave her a dollar extra on the tip, though, because she used my first name when she said thank you after bringing me the bill. I like that.

Then, I had promised to hammer my testicles into the floor if I forgot to go get an envelope to mail a death certificat to Jean's mom. That's all she's asked of me, the death certificate, and I had been procrastinating.

For the whole time Jean has been gone, I knew that I had to get Jean's mom a sympathy card. With everything I feel and the hell I live, I knew in my heart that only one person feels worse than me about it. Minnie (Jean's mom).

But I could not do it. I could walk into the store and see cards, and I couldn't go near them. I knew they would send me into a tearful fit.

Tonight I decided to do it. Since I'm sending the DC anyway, I wanted to get her the card I knew I owed her. I was very careful - I needed to have something that properly reflected my soul and the message I wanted to convey to her.

I peeked through 5 cards before I grabbed the sixth. The front cover read:

"Perhaps they are not stars in the sky"
The inside read:
"but rather openings where our loved ones shine down to let us know they are happy" - eskimo legend.

I lost it.
What a beautiful thought
How dearly I hope to know that she is happy, my Jean. How I pray for that more than to have her back. And so I started sobbing heavily in the card isle of the Target where I was shopping. A woman who was about to enter the aisle stopped and went to another.

I got myself under control temporarily, and she passed by me with sympathetic eyes. A young woman, younger than me, who must certainly have wondered what makes a man cry so. And I started crying again, because it was too hard not to. She stayed in the distance behind me, and I was comfortable with that. What could she have said? What could I?

But I knew I had the right card, then. And as I finished my shopping and headed home, I started thinking of what on earth am I going to write to this woman.

I've been journaling so heavily, I have some good ideas. How I'm so empty. How I miss my friend. How every day has a burned out hole in it. And that I know with as awful as my days are, her beautiful mother must certainly grieve more for the daughter she only kept half a lifetime.

I do not know how to write that note yet. I consider it one of the most important I can ever write. And I'm going to do a soulfull job of it, so that the mother knows, I beheld the full beauty of her creation, and she was perfect.

It is never too late to be what you might have been. -- George Eliot
Courage to start and willingness to keep everlasting at it are the requisites for success. -- Alonzo Newton Benn