I got home from the gym a little while ago and since then I have taken a shower, got dressed and did my makeup, took out the trash, recycling, and compost, done the dishes, wiped down the kitchen counters, and taken my vitamins. Not to mention that when I first got home I smoked a little weed and ate some waffles. Back when I was the old me, living in that nasty house on the highway in Nice, CA, I used to be one of those stoners who couldn't do shit. I'd just sit there and eat and surf the internet. Or drink and surf the internet. I couldn't exercise, pay a bill, make dinner, clean the house, or clean myself. I was a waste product. Needless to say, I felt like a loser. Today, I figure, if I smoke weed, it's okay, as long as I am still a functioning human being who is able to take care of business. I've found that I've actually become more productive stoned than I do just normally. I used to tell myself I couldn't write stoned, and it was probably just an excuse I told myself so I didn't have to write. Or exercise. Although I wouldn't exercise stoned because that would just be counterintuitive, I also wouldn't let it come before a work out. Nothing comes between me and the gym. I'm there rain or shine, heartache or bursting at the seems with love, whether I'm angry, depressed, way too full from over eating, sick, or in pain. I always go. I can't imagine anything other than HAM being as important as the gym. I guess school. School takes even more time than the gym and balancing the two is difficult. I don't know how HAM does everything that he does. He'll make a good marketing executive someday, or whatever he decides to do. I remember back in my senior year of college, I was newly married, in school full time, working part time, applying to grad schools, and smoking crack on the weekends. I mean, not every single weekend, but if it wasn't crack, I was getting drunk, popping Xanax and Oxycontin, snorting cocaine, or even dropping ectasy. Who knows how I made it through all of that with my degree and a 3.9 GPA. Of course I didn't get into grad school, and I'm sure it was because I was delusional from the drugs. But I still accomplished a lot while I was handling a million other things. So I wonder, was it not being accepted to grad school that really pushed me over the edge as far as "partying", or was it just the natural progression of addiction? In AA, they say that's what happens - you can never maintain. One is too many and a thousand is never enough. I guess I don't know yet. I do know the year before I quit drinking and getting high was the worst year of my life. I definitely don't want to end up back there again. So maybe that's why I become so overly productive, trying to prove to myself that It's different this time. But is it worth it? Because if I am truly an addict, this won't stay manageable. It will become unmanageable and I'll have to stop. If it turns out I was just misguided and had some impermanent dependency issues, then I guess I could go on forever feeling satisfied with a little evening weed smoking and one glass of wine. That would be fine. Honestly, I don't know why I ever liked getting drunk. It's much better to just slowly sip one glass of fabulous wine than "get fucked up". I don't like being out of control, doing and saying things I normally wouldn't do and say, and waking up feeling like shit, dehydrated and ashamed. No thank you. One is just right, actually. I don't ever feel like I'm stopping myself from having more. All I care for is one, and then I feel done. Damn, AA really fucks a person't head up, doesn't it? It's so weird, because AA helps so many people, but it's also a brainwashing cult. It's just that the brainwashing helps a lot of people. But it hurts people, too. It hurt me and I've heard stories about others. I guess I just don't have the answers on this. I guess I'll just have to watch and see what happens, and hope it's nothing I'll regret.

I just watched this doc about weed growers in Nor-Cal. I don't know why I torture myself by watching something that just reminds me of my dream. My whole life I've been trying to get to California, and every damn time I get there, something fucked up happens that sends me back to Bellevue. There is no place on earth as beautiful as the Northern California mountains. Those sun-dried rolling hills, the twisting, dense forest. I've never slept better in my life than I did when I lived in a tent off Bell Springs. It was so dark and peaceful, zillions of stars in the sky, only the sounds of the mountains themselves. I miss it so much. I pray for the day when I can buy my Nor-Cal land. Acres of property in the mountains, my yurt, my wind turbine, an organic garden, a well. My dogs and chickens, all that privacy! I realize I have a bit of a social phobia. I always think I want to hang out with people, and get really excited when someone asks me to do something, but the closer to the time when we're supposed to hang out gets, the more I start to think I really don't want to do it after all. What I want more than lots of friends or being invited out to do things I don't want to do, is just to have my acreage, my dream home, my dogs, and HAM. I don't need many people, or things. I would need a car with four-wheel drive to get to and from my home, and I'd love to have a gym. But that's the one major luxury item that I desire. I don't need a home theater or an olympic size pool, I don't need leather furniture (in fact I would NEVER own leather furniture) or whatever kinds of things rich people require. I don't need a huge TV or a tennis court, or even a hot tub (although I would like a hot tub). What I really want is to be peaceful and happy in the mountains with my little family, possibly growing weed, writing, sewing, growing my own food and raising chickens for eggs (not meat). The simple life. And a home gym. And not a lame "all-in-one" machine, but an actual gym, with mirrors, cardio machines, benches, free weights, a big mat, and various other workout apparati. Maybe a sound system and a TV mounted on the wall. That's my one luxury desire - not that big of a deal. But if I couldn't have that, I'd at least like to live close enough to a gym that it isn't an hour drive to get there. It took an hour to ge anywhere from Bell Springs. But it was way out in Laytonville, and Laytonville is already such a small town that even when you finally get to town, gas is about 500 thousand dollars a gallon and everything in the grocery store is inflated by 50%. There's one restaurant/ bar, a deli, a post office, a couple motels, a grocery store, a gas station, and a coffee shop with (surprisingly) wireless internet access. I'd rather live in the Ukiah mountains because Ukiah has more going on than Laytonville and Willits is so hick it might as well be Texas. But since my ex-fiance, ALL, is from there, it's really not a safe place to live. That's so unfortunate because I truly fell in love with Mendocino County and never wanted to leave. It's so beautiful there, and there's no traffic. I never had to wait in line at the post office and I never got stuck in rush hour. Granted, it takes about an hour to get anywhere in Mendo (if you're not just going to the grocery store down the street), but it's so majestic and filled with nature that I don't care how long it takes to get somewhere - the drive is like meditation. Not like rush hour, where sitting in my car makes me want to murder the person in front of me. Taking a long time to get somewhere due to distance is fine, it's taking a long time to get somewhere because of congestion that gets my skin boiling. But the fact is, that won't be a reality for several years. It's my dream, and I can't let it die. I will get there someday. Until then I have to learn to grow food and raise chickens, sew my own clothes, ferment my own Kombucha, use public utilities to run my appliances, and keep the hippie dream alive.