Blogging Sober

Good god how does one navigate all the choices on this thing? When I first started blogging I was in a relapse and spend days, literally (drugs: there is no clock) online and tweaking my blog layout. I lack the patience for such a thing now. Also, I leave the house.

I decided to start a blog in order to consolidate my reports into one place as I have friends who are not on zuckerbook. It sounded easy - I've blogged before, right? 

No, it is not easy, not while sober. It requires patience and most of all, focus. It also demands risk. I've been tailoring my output to different audiences and a blog means that I will have to unplug the part of my psyche that (classic of all charlatans) keeps track of what personae I have presented to whom. 

If I ever needed more evidence that I was or am a big fat phony then there it is. Thats the thing about telling the truth - it is real simple, and a simple way to live. Simple in a good way. I dunno if I've told any actual lies to anyone (like I'd tell you) but it is more the bluster I exhibit that concerns me. It's OK if that goes though. It never did me much good anyway.

So to get back to technical (if you've read this far): 
As I have failed my goal of documenting my daily accounts I will instead post the trip report in sections such as Money, Possessions, Language, and other categories descriptive of just what is involved with getting rid of nearly all of one's possessions and packing up to move abroad for grad school at the ridiculous age of 50.

I should have titled this Coffee and a Melatonin because that is what I had tonight at 22:45 when I walked in the door and set to write a blog post. At present the two are battling it out with each other.

That I promised to write a blog is the one thing that made me avoid doing it - along with not knowing whether I could do this shit sober or not. Pfff. I write on facebook all the time. I stopped doing that though, the way a parent would remove TV privileges until the child does their homework. Nothing wrong with fb it just has the power to distract me. I log on to do or see one thing and end up three tabs over watching hurricane videos. That sort of thing.

The other more fear-inducing (read: cold shot of fear up the back of the neck) motivator for writing these entries is practice for my upcoming coursework. I am here for school after all. It's a one-year long Masters program. that means a shit load of writing whether I feel like writing or not. 

Day 26

Today was a day of several accomplishments. I've already forgotten the first two. I'm so goal-oriented I move on quickly, haha. The second two were that  made it to a meeting not just on time but early and I did so without a navigation program. Yep. The second accomplishment was that I got lost on the way home by missing one turn but I now know my way around well enough that I a) didn't panic or reach for my phone and b) enjoyed the new scenery as I made my way home. At one point I crossed a bridge over a freeway. I rarely see freeways. I think there is just the one. I stopped and realized I live in Europe.

That's right, I now live in Europe. I moved to Europe.

I stopped to let that sink in. It is easy to get lost in the daily struggles, tasks, achievements, goals, bummers, confusion and whatnot and forget to take a moment to stand back and look at the big picture. When I remember why I am experiencing the temporary discomfort of settling in to a new place then I am no longer a victim of misfortune. I made the decision - had a dream -- to go to graduate school and later, to do so in a country that was not America. Not even on the NA continent. Asia would be wonderful but I really cant stand the heat. Europe seemed just right. And now here I am. Thank you freeway overpass.

I also picked up a service commitment tonight at the meeting. I am now the literature person for the Saturday night speaker meeting, though I only spoke with the chair and lit persons after the meeting and must still be voted in at next Saturday's meeting. There weren't any takers for the position tonight but to me no dream can ever be called come true until after it happens. If someone else stands up for it next week I'm ready. I'm American. I fight. I win.

It took me moving abroad to re-appreciate AA again. It was on August 9th that I woke up and realized  had not had a hug in nine days. That scared me. I am convinced that the single most important thing that contributes to the well-being or illness of a mammal is social contact. And touch is even better. Hugs are the best. I aimed for seven per day back home. Single best thing one can do for their immune system. Beats fucking up two lives anyways, which is how I frame my getting into a romantic relationship - a thing I have managed to avoid for some years now. But I need my hugs. I hugged at work a lot, as just a way to say hello, if OK by the other person (like I asked).

Since I got to the meeting early I took twenty minutes to walk around. Saturday night in A'dam central there are a lot of people out. I got off the bike and got to amble for a bit, which I really enjoy. I see more at that pace. It has been warm out - for here that is in the 70s (like my wardrobe) but by golly it's humid and if you are from the US east coast may I reference the concept of relativity here. Compared to what I am accustomed to - this place is fucking humid. And it will rain every day. It may be three minutes or two hours, but it will happen. But gosh darn the flowers are sure purty. And they are just everywhere.

But here are some not-flowers...

 Cups for every mood. I need these.

I have to look up what an immigration doctor is.

That's right, express yourself. Ride on, mopeder.

That's a life-sized stuffed animal in there. I've quit eating meat.

Day 22

Riding out to the coast today. Need to get out of this area.
This is not the way I wanted to begin my new blog. Really I have a beautiful template going - sections, order, bulleted areas to fill in describing various sections of my first three weeks here. But that makes it hard. And really, I just want to write.

So, I've broken the ice.

[UPDATE]

Rode out to Zandvoort. It was supposed to be a 2h10m ride but I was in no hurry and happy to indulge my desire to follow my psychic white rabbit down whatever path, lane or street that felt warm. Hard to explain. Have you ever just felt beckoned? In a gentle way? A concise explanation would include the words "a sense of wonder".

After years of work-school-work-school-work-work-work I am in no rush while riding my bike around the Netherlands, with no homework due and no shift to get up early for. Though it's not quite a vacation. I'm now on a grad student budget and that is better than OK. My appreciation for things increases the less I have and my resourcefulness and creativity go through the roof. It's always the getting and not the having that I cherish the most.

So, a bunch of pics from my three hour journey to Zandvoort, which I think translates to Sanford. Included are rather functional pics just showing what the paths look like, or an intersection, or a boring ol' street. When I am interested in checking out a place I want to see what the every day normal boring parts are.

Something about large cement structures e'er draws me in. Underpasses, bridges, old military forts. I think it is the angles. So much potential for coloring. I'd like to make a Freeways coloring book.

I said, A FREEWAYS COLORING BOOK.

This is what the bike roads that traverse the country look like. Actual roads. In the Seattle area there were sections of I-5 that permitted cycling, briefly, and only until the route re-gained an arterial road.

Flowers!

More flowers! (you should leave now. It does not get any more intelligent than writing Flowers! over pictures of flowers).

Um...

Oh, okay!

Maybe a calendar instead featuring this one shot in 365 different color schemes.

These red and white directional signs quickly shot up the priority ladder of my internal navigator. They are cycling path signs and are extremely well thought out. After just a couple of days I was able to start finding my way around using them. OK,three weeks.

 

Hi. I am an over-excited sunflower. It reminds me of Bill the Cat from Bloom County

Nearing Haarlem. Having been to Haarlem via train on my first trip here I knew right where I was. It sounds like a small thing, but let me add that it took two long days to really nail down how to get from which elevator in my building to my apartment. So knowing where the nearest free public toilet in Haarlem, Netherlands would be is a goddamn comfort.

The lone figure sitting on this bench is why I preserved the image.

As I neared my goal (as evidenced by everything around me suddenly become sand) I stopped to snap a pic of this graffiti...

...when out come a' rushing this train of horses!

I love graffiti. It's enduring presence should, in my view, keep art theorists on their toes. 

On closer look this appears to be the work of a school or some other legitimate body. Although it is pretty, and I love anything colorful, getting permission to spray paint a public area disqualifies a piece from being graffiti.

Zandvoort: Ventura on The North Sea.

 This magnificent white house.

I ride around a lot so we go from beach to streets to beach etc.

This tiled house.

The Vegas style residential complex for beach lovers. I think it's the tallest building in Holland.

 Estrima.com if you are interested. This electric car has a 60-mile range, a fact which stunned the passenger, who it turns out had no idea that he had been riding since Belgium in an electric car. That's what I love about being in a country where pot is legal. Well, one of the things. That and the soundness of it, from a social policy perspective. 

The car goes for about €13k if you are so inclined. My phone died before I could get pics of the interior. It really is a compact little deal. They are permitted to drive anywhere cars or bikes can travel.