Time for a reboot.

I had a conversation with a friend a few weeks ago about the destructive forces that still find ways to slide into my life and we tried to figure out ways to tackle these problems. It became apparent that the majority of the damage tended to come from a single source, and while it certainly wasn’t all that surprising it was still a bit of a shock because I realized I was finally going to have to face – and deal with – a behavioral tendency that some (including myself) tend to see as a singular part of my personality. I realized that the impetus for almost every bad decision I’ve made has been recreational drinking. This isn’t to say I haven’t done stupid stuff when stone sober but the number of dumb things I do while boozed up makes all my other mistakes look inconsequential.

Now I don’t think drinking alcohol is a bad thing. I see nothing wrong with a glass of wine with a nice dinner or a single margarita with a few tacos or a champagne toast at midnight on New Year’s Eve. I don’t even think that folks getting fall down drunk at a bar or at a show on any given night is in itself a bad thing. I can speak from first-hand accounts that drinking can be lots and lots of fun, no doubt! However I’ve come to the realization that for the time being, at least for me, recreational drinking is no longer worth the hassles it ends up causing.

Aside from the stress it causes on my interpersonal relationships (Photogal being justifiably upset because I stayed out until all hours at a bar or party, Rudy having to bail me out from some impending fisticuffs with a drunk jock, feelings of many and various acquaintances being hurt because I just can’t keep my big mouth shut) there are a number of other good reasons to lay off the sauce. Now in the last year I’ve gotten really good about getting into the gym six days a week to undo all the damage I’ve heaped upon my poor body in the last fifteen years or so. As you can imagine it’s been slow going but I’m really starting to see some results for all my effort. One thing standing in my way of what I would imagine to be fairly dramatic changes are the thousands of empty calories and pounds of bad sugar I pour down my gullet on those evenings when one or two drinks turns into ten or twelve. I mean, Jesus, that’s just ridiculous! I may never be destined to have a Brad Pitt style physique but I do want to know that, at least once in my life, I was in tip-top shape. Also, every time I’ve had a cigarette since I’ve been trying to quit smoking it has been directly related to an urge I decide to give into after a few drinks.

Man oh man, just think of all the money I'll save when I don't have to pay for cabs or drinky-drinks. Yow!

I also think that my writing has suffered because of booze. I may now only go out drinking once a week or so, and I still don’t get hangovers in the classic sense, but I am certainly not in top form the next day. The most annoying thing is the general cerebral fuzziness that follows me around after a particularly boisterous evening. Since this fuzziness invariably presents itself on a weekend, when I should be sitting down and working on a short story or something like that, I’m beginning to think that part of the reason I haven’t gotten off my ass and gotten something published in an anthology or anything like that is because booze has sapped my resolve.

Here’s the biggest reason to quit though. The reason I drink is because I have fun while drunk. However I’ve noticed that the fun-factor seems to be abating dramatically. Maybe drunken fun is purely the domain of the singles scene and since I’m not a part of that anymore it doesn’t make much sense for me to try and ape its traditions and rituals. Maybe I’m just no longer “that guy” and it’s time for me to move on and try something new.

I’ve reached this decision through weeks of thought and internal debate and I think I’m making the right decision. Like I said, the occasional glass of wine is no problem but shots at the bar followed by beer after beer after beer have overstayed their welcome.

It’s time to se if I can still be “fun” without any crutches. It's a little scary -- okay it's actually a lot scary -- but I hope it'll be worth it.

Looks like I picked the wrong week to stop sniffing glue too, huh?