Twenty-One: Little Cartoon Mouse Holes

Currently thinking about the place alcohol occupies in my life.

As it is, I customarily have a beer with dinner. I'm not a big drinker, of course. Not only is one drink usually enough to last me through an entire evening, but it doesn't take much more than that to get me quite inebriated, and that's not my goal. My intention in having a nightly beer is to have something to drink with dinner that isn't sugary and won't keep me up, but will in fact undo the coffee I usually drink throughout the day. I always feel like I need a beverage with my meals that isn't water, and beer fits the bill for dinnertime. I used to always have pop with dinner of course, back when getting to bed on time... mattered less? Or when my body metabolized it differently? Now I'm trying to stay away from the stuff as much as possible, drinking no more than one a day and often not that. (To aid in this, I keep a carton of juice in the fridge at work, Five Alive.)

This is something I went back to doing after we moved to Toronto, after I spent many years not drinking much at all. Back in my twenties (wow, there it is,) I would have a beer at the end of every night, for the same line of thinking as the above (except that it was generally after dinner but definitely to offset the caffeine in my life) because I found it hard to get to bed without it. With no small amount of irony, I started calling this my "nightly medicine."

This started happening less and less the longer I was with Mel, opting for root beer or iced tea most of the time, and for a while the sleep thing wasn't an issue, until it was again and I was like "Okay, beer would probably fix this." So back came the, uh, "medicine."

Now, I've been assured by impartial outsiders that this habit does not represent any kind of addiction or dependency. It is very hard to look at "one beer a night" as a problem, even if my mentality is that I "need" it. - at least, in the same way I "need" coffee to wake up in the morning.

At times I do think even that small amount of alcohol has a more insidious effect on me, my mindset and my body. It's likely that it pacifies me too much, and when I call upon my body to provide - ahem - certain biological duties - I find it does so only very unenthusiastically. Part of this I chalk up to just being older and more tired, and partly, I have to say is because I've been drinking. If I don't drink - I'm not saying the problem goes away, but if I stay away from alcohol for a few days, I definitely feel more spry.

And anyway, it's a cointoss whether the booze makes me feel "sleepy" or "groggy," the kind of tired that keeps you up, you know?

The other day I bought a case of non-alcoholic Radler (fundamentally, just a very sour lemonade). I used to drink this stuff a lot before we moved to the city (and I was in that non-drinking phase). It does the trick as far as going with meals. It provides a little more heartburn than regular beer (what with the citrus) and has left me feeling........ very awake.

I'm not saying that's a good thing or bad thing, or a better or a worse thing. But it's a thing I'm thinking about. This has nothing to do with quitting drinking socially, only with how I use alcohol in my life. Right now I feel very awake. Hence, here I am.

There are a lot more important things to think about - and probably my brain wanting to both think about them and ignore them are why I am awake and why I am writing to you now. The wedding is getting closer, and we have powered through a certain amount of setup but there is still more fine details to put in place. I have a lot of vendors to pay and a lot of things to oversee. But we got a couple of biggish things done tonight so I was feeling triumphant. In bed, I made a big speech to Mel about how it has been tough but I have been trying to be with her every step of the way, because I do care and it is important and this is going to be a day we always remember and what's more, it means the beginning of our life together (well, the next part of it.)

The weekend was chaotic. She went back to Oakville Friday morning because she had a makeup appointment, and was staying overnight. I stayed in Oakville that night because in the morning dad was gong to come to the city to help me transport a mirror that we are going to use for our seating chart. I specifically wanted this because Mel asserted some weeks ago that her parents do oh-so-much for us, and I had to contextualize - not wrongly I don't think - that we use her parents as a home base because she has a very close relationship with them, and I have a different relationship with m parents because of my upbringing so I don't seek to rely on them too much (especially not since we are getting so much from her parents) but that if we needed them they would be here for us without question. And I was right, although I didn't make a point to put two and two together for her.

Our original idea was to take the mirror all the way to the girl's workshop in Hamilton. Actually, my original original idea was jut to take it to Oakville and get it to Hamilton later, but I had said to Dad that the girl was based in Hamilton so he interpreted that as that we were going all the way to Hamilton.

So I thought, yeah, why not? Knock that task out.

I got Mel to message the girl and see if that was cool. Alas, she refused to take it without a fully complete seating chart, which we don't have because the last few RSVPs have gotten lost in the mail (strangely mostly people on my side, which for some reason Mel has taken out on me - maybe not intentionally, but these are people I care about so when she gets frustrated with them for things that are not their fault, I take it personally.) I might have seen this coming when we opted against electronic responding, but we thought it would be cute.

 So, we could only take the mirror as far as Oakville, which was fine. That interaction dulled Mel's interest in working with this vendor, so she found another one in Oakville who will take the mirror this Saturday. I had also wanted to visit my storage unit, which I hadn't been to since we moved stuff in. I wanted to put a few books and DVDs in there, and maybe look for some stuff to take out. I had idly been saying I wanted to do that for months before finally seeing this opportunity. I wasn't able to get rid of a lot of stuff, much to Mel's chagrin (she has become obsessed with the idea of clearing off space on our shelf for, well... other stuff I guess. Technically she wants books on there but all the books not on there already are ones I'd sooner put in storage themselves, and keep the DVDs I may want at hand! A paradox!)

The night before, I pressed Brandon for the passcode and he seemed annoyed at me because he had emailed me this info two years ago, but you go hunting through your old emails for a storage unit passcode. Plus, we had changed lockers the following week to a big one, and I never got that locker number, so I would have had to ask for that anyway, smart guy (this entry is taking on a very me vs. the world tone.)

I got all the way to the unit, and dad dropped me off to go check out the British Grocer. I told him I wouldn't be long and I was right - because I had forgotten the key. Classic Scotto. I had had the key in my hand only weeks earlier and thought I had moved it over to my new backpack (a thought I had thought earlier that day - should I bother checking? Nah, it's in there. Only in the brain of Scotto.) So there I am in front of a storage unit locker to which I had no key, cradling a rapidly deteriorating Indigo L08 box I have only folded whose side has become unglued. Sigh.

Well. I wouldn't settle for two busts in one day, so at Mel's behest I reached out to Brandon to see if I could borrow his key. Dad had some running around of his own to do so he lent me his car and took Deb's. I stopped off at Mel's parents to drop off the mirror and have a coffee and eventually Brandon woke up and said sure, you can have the key, no doubt begrudging me.

So I got the key and I went through the storage unit, and guess what - it's mostly old crap I don't need anymore. Oh, don't get me wrong, there are books and DVDs, and I did find a few to liberate (The Room, Manos, Muppets Christmas Carol, and Eerie Indiana, which I had specifically wanted to watch on Halloween.) I pondered taking a few other specific movies before opting not to. Maybe later. I should feel more comfortable coming and going from there, and I know where the good stuff is now.

One or two boxes of DVDs I had misplaced - the end of the alphabet for movies. I have wanted to watch Wayne's World 1 and 2 for a while now. I do have them on Amazon Prime, and I can hook my computer up to my TV, but having the DVDs would just be easier.

One other thing. I had been thinking recently about my old Brooklyn shirt, and it bothered me that I had not brought it into my wardrobe and left it in storage. I thought maybe, if I found it, I would bring it back, despite the years of funk and grime that would be baked into it. But what would be the odds of finding it? I made sure not to specifically look for it..... but fortune was in my favour, as the bag it was in was right at the front, and that shirt was right on top of the bag.

I felt weird taking it. Like I shouldn't. Like it was wrong. Because that shirt in the past? Or because it's so funky and forgotten? I don't know. I felt like I needed to be sneaky, because I didn't want to have to explain it to Mel, that I had bothered - not gone out of my way, but found a convenient opportunity - to get it. You ever feel guilty about something completely innocuous?

Mel and I rendezvoused (sp?) at her parents place, but our paths were only crossing briefly again. After her nap, Dad, Unc and I went to play pool at Crooked Cue in Port Credit for my "guy's night" - the make-good half-bachelor party I had rigged up with Eric to spend time with people that were not inherently included in my first stag. I didn't want it to be a "big thing" and it wasn't - we didn't wear the shirts or the hat. But we short three hours of pool and got a lot of people who are close to me to mingle - Cam and Unc, Randy and Brandon, good times. I drank lots, on Eric's dime.

Edit: I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the lowlight, which was running into someome Eric knew from his bar (because we can't go anywhere without that) who then felt comfortable telling me I was "dropping too much ass" on this side of the pool table. Hey, I don't have the kind of buttcheeks thst clench and bar food no longer agrees fully with md. Sue me. You'll never see a cent.

I came home to her, drunkenly falling asleep, and the next day she had another dress fitting. We had a quick omelette breakfast with her mom, who had thoughtfully brought waffles, before parting again. I took the day to go to the mall and get one (1) wedding thing done, buying my shoes. I contemplated getting wedding party gifts at Indigo, but at this point I have no idea what to do. I also ran an errand for Mel, getting her a new screen protector. I had entertained dreams of using the day to write, but honestly it was not to be.

We met back up at home, decorated our little condo Cypress tree, had nachos for dinner (the girls helped) and watched How I Met Your Mother for a few episodes of season 1 - Mel had started her mom on it for the first time the night before, cute. Then we parted ways again, because Mel had a hair appointment in Oakville this morning. Go figure!

Again I thought I might use the night to write but I was bushed. I flopped on the couch and watched Happy Endings on DVD. I did actually end up staying up late to do some X-Cerpts work, so it wasn't a totally unproductive day for creative Scotto. My thinking is that even though I can't not-want to write while we're prepping the wedding, I need to be okay with not having time or motivation to do so. Today at lunch presented a perfect opportunity to try, but I had no state of mind to do anything.

Sunday morning - doubling back here - I stumbled on a new-ish journal comic from a cartoonist worse work I followed years ago, when he was a teenager doing his first journal comic. I vividly recall reading about how writing about the people in his life was affecting him because he wouldn't tell them about the comic before putting them in it, which is a huge no-no. I always felt I had a kinship since that was a lot like my experience with SWP, back when I obsessively wrote every detail of my teenaged life here, and never deliberately told people I was doing it but they found out anyway. Jess and Angela of course became briefly fixated on their appearances - generally people liked being featured here and, as it was a journal blog and not a creative comic, I could be tactful about what I was sharing about whom. Plus I didn't have any relationships to screw up.

That said... I do now.

Huh.

Well, that all linked in my mind to the storage unit, and the past, and my baggage, and where I've been, and where I'm going, and my Brooklyn shirt (I also found my crusty old London Calling short that I wore every Monday in high school without fail and almost never washed so it's basically brown... yikes.) I also thought about this blog and my other blog and what I should  e doing, both with them and my creative every in general. It was a fun morning!

I'm thinking about all these things but I'll have to find a way to settle my brain down as I try to go to bed now. I've already been up way later than I should be, and I never took my medicine tonight.

Huh.

Well, this was a fun one. Let's have more of this sort of thing in the future.

Remember that just because you've met someone, doesn't mean they're not a stranger.

I just thought of that earlier and tweeted it.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto

Twenty: You're wearing the wrong shoes

I was thinking today, as I often have in life, about what would happen if I got amnesia, and completely lost my identity?

Arguably, I have more to lose at this point in my life than I ever have before of course, but even leaving beside all that, what I've often thought of is the resources at my disposal to learn about who I am and was. Things like Twitter, my writing, and this blog.

Naturally, I hope it never comes to that, because if I were to rely on those sources to rediscover my sense of self I would probably get the impression that I was miserable, that nothing made me happy, that life was full of complaints.

Of course this is not true. Not fully. Generally life is good. I do have pains and doubts about my place in the world, my relationship, my career path. I have my stresses and frustrations. I can be lightly misanthropic. But I am trying to enjoy my time here on Earth and spend it with a person or people who make me happy.

The upsetting things have always been the bread and butter of this blog of course. It's very hard to quantify when you're having a good day and examine why exactly it is. It's usually pretty self-explanatory and thus not usually worthy of record. Which is sad. All the bad days, the sad days, the frustrated days, those get noted with interest, in great detail. And of course there's the occasional seasoning of a navel-gazing entry like this one where I just write about how I'm always writing about how sad I am, written when I'm not sad.

I'm really only writing this because it's not yet 11:00 PM and I can't get onto Marvel Unlimited to source material for my next X-Cerpt (I'm planning on taking December off but that doesn't mean I can't tee up some of my posts for January.) But the reason doesn't matter.

I shouldn't stay up too late working on this love-fest, mind you. We have to get up early, Mel has a meeting, and I go with the wind. But my brain has not yet settled. Honestly, if I knew I couldn't have done any X-Cerpts, I would have tried to do some of my Slade writing but the "moment has passed" if you know what I mean.

We are getting closer and closer to the wedding. I am excited to have it done with. There are still details to put into place but by and large everything will be what it will be. Mel doesn't seem like she can be happy not worrying about the wedding. It does cause us friction. In fact lots of things cause us friction. That's nothing new - mostly our relationship is frictionless because I will it so and when I take the guards off that, sparks fly. Rugburn. Know what I'm saying? It's all on me, and maybe it shouldn't have to be, but I know what I need to be to make this relationship work and I am far too invested in it to let that falter.

A few weeks ago we had a massive fight because some of our wedding prep had coincided with what was going to be Eric's birthday. Fine, well and good, but the attitude with which this was conveyed really rubbed me the wrong way. A nerve was exposed and remained as such all weekend even as I agreed - not unwillingly - to go along with the plan. It just all played into a negative perception I have about Mel, perhaps unfairly but not (I insist) without evidence, that her feelings toward my family aren't as important to her as mine towards hers. I won't get into it any further than I already have. It will live in my memory like the rest of our important fights, part my fault part hers. I said something I really, really, really should not have, but when a nerve is raw, when you just can't fake it, the shit gets real. So be it.

We made up of course, although not without a tense night. Sometimes when we fight it really physically strains me. And you know, they say you should never go to bed angry but I do believe in sleeping it off.

That night we made our pinecone centrepieces. Mel had this whole conclusion drawn that these things weren't important to me, and it hurt that she thought that, I was determined to prove her wrong. In fact I was always very excited about the centrepieces, and the S'Mores, and anything else at the wedding that is ours to do and make. It's the co-ordinating of other people, of outside forces, that wears on me. That's my work, and I don't enjoy bringing it home, especially since at work I'm mostly left to do it on my own agenda. Well, when things are going well.

I liked the centrepieces, and am proud of the work I/we did. Mel wasn't as natural at assembling them, but Sherlie and I killed it.

The next weekend we met with our venue rep to finalize some details. The venue was set up for a wedding very much like ours, so it was easy to visualize what we are thinking of. From there we worked on getting a few other items. One thing that had been on my mind was a cake topper. I had thought I'd seen at Michaels, a cake topper of a bear and a bee, which are our codenames for each other (codenames sounds cooler than pet names.) But searching high and low turned up no such product and time was running out.

I had a crazy idea that we could do them ourselves. Out of clay, based on the drawings I always do in cards I give her. Even thought we have had only modest success working with clay in the past, to do the beehive honey pots that turned out all smooshed.

To her credit, Mel was game, so we bought a ton of bake clay and took it home. With only a little bit of input from me, Mel soon had her bee rolled and decorated with little stripes and wings and a stinger. My bear came together soon after, with a happy teddy face (I had envisioned blank, but went with Mel on that) and a big bear gut (not a reflection of my own self image.) They look great separate and together, and we're honestly so proud of how they turned out. Works of art, perhaps not, but impressive for our skill level and the time we took to make them. I made sure to reach out to our baker to confirm they would sit well atop the cake.

That made me happy. The winter weather makes me happy - a fine transition from the glum fall feeling I always experience. Being nearly through with holiday execution at work makes me happy. Getting ready to be married to this person makes me happy.

Altogether, I feel good, and I want to bask in it.

The conflict does feel a little more interesting on this blog. You don't need to know I came home today and made a good meat loaf after having our gym session canceled, then we watched 90 Day Fiance. But the good times are worthy of observation in their own way. Those subtle, sneaky good times. You hear about the times we fight because those are action, but you don't hear about the endless hours cuddled on the couch, constantly kissing and saying I love you and you're beautiful and feeling good. That's my reality. That's what I'm here for.

Keep on rockin'
Scotto