Looking over my left shoulder as I type this... in Diary

It’s just past 1:00 AM. I can tell I’m tired, but I’m so used to being awake all night. That’s a habit I’d like to break at some point. That’s an alcoholic’s schedule. Sleep all day, drink all night. It’s only been a couple weeks, I guess, since I quit drinking, so my body still wants to do all the same things it used to do for all those years. Mostly unhealthy things.

One thing I’d like to do is start reading again. Reading is something I’ve always enjoyed, and I all but gave it up while I was drinking because I knew I wouldn’t remember what I’d read the next day. Or I was too drunk to read. I bought a book by Stephen King about JFK that’s sitting right on my head board. I’ll probably start with that. One random piece of good news that’s book-related: After more than 5 years, I was able to recover three e-books by Tad Williams I’d purchased back when I bought my first iPhone which I thought were lost forever when I got a new phone and a new carrier. There’s another 2000 plus pages for me to read.

I’ve probably talked about wanting to get back to writing, as well, here, but since I can’t remember I’ll just write it anyway. My novel has sat dormant for months once again, and it’s beginning to nag at me to finish it. Being my first attempt at a novel, there are obviously tons of problems all over the place, but I still feel it’s a project worth completing, and then perfecting to the best of my ability. Something I read from one of Stephen King’s books (I think it’s “On Writing”) has stuck with me ever since I first picked up the book. “If you don’t have time to read, you don’t have the time (or the tools) to write. Simple as that.” That’s the quote. And as much as I’ve internally argued against the idea that you need to read in order to be a writer, I can’t put that quote out of my mind.

After I had covered up the bird for the night and I was walking up the stairs to go feed the outside cats (and raccoon), I was struck with an intense feeling of loneliness. It sounds melodramatic, or it reads that way to me right now, but I definitely couldn’t ignore it. When I’m around the bird (which is almost all of the day), I don’t ever really think about whether or not I’m lonely. I’m too distracted by his cuteness or his ear-piercing screams. On that note, I bought a new pair of wireless headphones at Radioshack (a small electronics chain store) because my Beats are falling apart. There were black guys all over the packaging, so I knew the headphones were legit. But seriously, they’re really nice and seem like solid, long-lasting headphones. I feel like I need them because of the times the bird is noisy. My ears are more sensitive than most people’s to loud noise. Good thing I have a wild African grey parrot.

I need to find a hobby so I can meet people. Right now I have no friends, and I naturally make friends quite easily and I enjoy being around people, so it’s kind of killing me to feel so lonely every day. The reason why I’m friendless is complicated, but it’s not because I’m antisocial or anything. It’s because of relationship changes, job changes, moving, among other reasons. Lifestyle choices.

I smoke cannabis every day, now, speaking of lifestyle choices. Not that I can afford it on my zero dollars a month salary. But at least I’m not drinking. I’m using it mostly to help with anxiety and depression, even though it’s not legal here. If only I moved one state away… I also enjoy the way it makes me feel, but not to the extent I used to when I was a teenager. I wouldn’t have been able to quit drinking if it wasn’t for cannabis. And that’s the truth.

There is a podcast I’ve been listening to called Alison Rosen Is Your New Best Friend where lately the people on the show have been doing a segment reading semi-embarrassing excerpts of their journal entries from years ago, like when they were in high school or in their early 20’s, and it reminded me of how I used to write in my 20’s back on OD (Open Diary) and how most of my favorites did as well. On the podcast everyone is laughing and lightly making fun of each others journal or diary entries because of the overly emotional and immature nature of them, but I miss writing that way. In my opinion, I was a much better writer when I wrote without worrying about what anyone else would think when they read it, or whether or not I was using correct spelling, grammar, or formatting, when I wouldn’t worry about using the same word too many times on the same page. I’ve hated my writing ever since it changed from a stream of consciousness style to the style it is now. Just with my writing here (diary or journal style), not with my fiction. I write so slowly with it that I make sure I’m happy with what I put down before I move on to the next sentence, or paragraph, or page. I allow myself to write however it feels most natural when it comes to fiction.

I think this entry is long enough. It’s been almost an hour since I started it. Anyway, take care, everyone who reads this. I really appreciate all the notes even if I don’t always respond. Be happy. Bye for now.