Call it hubris, call it confidence, call it anything you like so long as you don't call it late for dinner. I'm fairly confident there's some folks here who still remember me, so I'd like to check in and say hi, and also fill you in on what's been going on. Don't know why I feel so sentimental, or why I feel inclined to drop this on y'all, I just kinda wanna.
Now, the question is where to start.
I honestly can't remember where my life was at when I posted here last. I was probably still working that dead-end job at the glorified liquor store, aka BevMo. Well, I quit that. I took a summer off in order to revisit my old haunt of Sitka, Alaska, and worked in the seafood processing industry up there. I had the greatest summer of my entire life while I was there, made some amazing friends, made some equally amazing (and sometimes equally stupid) decisions, came home in one piece, and immediately found a girlfriend and a different job.
The new job was at a coffee shop in the middle of the downtown area of my town (at the time). I'd been going there for years, had some friends who worked there. The previous management (with whom I'd had beef) had quit, which afforded me the opportunity of getting my foot in the door. Got the job, no problem. Things were cool, until I realized just how poorly the place was run. I used to come home from work and literally collapse onto my bed crying, it was that bad. And this was just a couple months after I'd spent a whole summer in Alaska getting coated in fish guts and fluids, working 16+ hour days, taking Adderall in the mornings just to wake the fuck up and getting obliterated on cheap plastic bottle whiskey so I could numb my aching body enough to go to sleep. That's how bad this coffee job was, it actually was worse than Alaska.
I wound up losing that job because I took to the store's employees-only Facebook page and compared him to Hitler in a hilarious meme. I regret nothing.
Literally the next day, after posting a status on my personal FB page about having two thumbs and being jobless, I was offered an interview by a friend who was the GM of the restaurant across the street, which is a local landmark and institution. I aced the interview, I quickly worked my way into being the kitchen expeditor (expo), and worked there for a year.
Some of y'all may remember that my dad and I didn't always get along. Well, during this time I spent working at the restaurant, we had both started making earnest, genuine efforts to fix that. It was working beautifully. Holidays first, then weekends, then weekdays, occasionally just shooting the shit over the phone or via text. Then, we found out he was sick. And shortly afterward, we found out how sick: pancreatic cancer. If you don't know much about pancreatic cancer, let me school you some: It's fast. It's efficient. It's everything you want from a machine or an employee, and nothing you want from a lethal disease. From the time he was diagnosed until he drew his last breath, it might have been six weeks. I don't know who had it easier, me or him. Because at least he isn't hurting anymore, and I've never stopped hurting. But at least I'm alive, so I've got that going for me? Who fuckin knows man. It gets easier to deal with, but it's no picnic, I'll tell you that.
Two months passed, and after two roommates had come and gone from my then-girlfriend's and my apartment, my living situation became more complicated: she left me. The $2k/month lease was entirely my responsibility in fact, even though she was still on the lease. This led to some complications, and when the lease was up to be renewed, I couldn't. So I moved in with a lifelong friend in nearby Oakland, California. If you're wondering, I still haven't entirely forgiven her for leaving me, but I also was well aware that I couldn't have really blamed her anyway. But yeah. Oakland! Not a small town. A city. With three major league sports teams and a reputation for violent crime, which is often exaggerated but not entirely without precedent. It's Oakland. You live here or you don't. I live here.
So I moved. The commute became economically burdensome, so I found a new job at a restaurant nearby, and dropped the one in my hometown (which pained me greatly; during my personal difficulties, especially my dad's sickness and death, they had treated me with the utmost love and care, for which I am eternally grateful). I've been working at my new restaurant for about half a year now, and it's not horrible, but it doesn't have the same homey feel. It can't. It's a totally different beast. But it's endurable, at least until I can find something I'm passionate about, that pays better, that has more stability, maybe benefits if I pray to the right god, all that fun shit.
At the end of September, I found out that one of my dearest, oldest friends, with whom I'd lost touch for about a year, died of a heroin overdose. I returned (as I often have) to Livermore, this time to visit an old haunt of ours, and poured out a 32oz Miller High Life at the top of the hill where we'd spent several fun times together. Afterward, I visited a mutual friend of his and mine, to maybe share some comfort together. After that, I went to my favorite bar, the same one where I still work once a week. The last place I ever hung out with him. I ordered two beers, one for me and one for him. I downed mine while I poured his out onto the back patio. I ran into another friend of his and mine, who wasn't informed of his passing yet. I did my duty and shared this horrible information with him. We embraced as brothers.
While my friend and I held each other, a stranger walked up to me, a young woman with blue-green hair. My face was soaked in tears. I saw her walk out, and was immediately somewhat embarrassed to have been seen by a stranger in such a state. All she said to me was, "Can I give you a hug?" I accepted.
She and I have been dating for about 6 weeks now.
To fill in some other details, I have my own band now. Some of you may remember my old band Troubador, and I recall that a fair handful of you contributed to our Kickstarter for our first (and, unfortunately, only) album. Well, sadly, we're no more. But I have a new band called Save Laika. I write all the songs. I have a bassist and a drummer who I love immensely, and who are also incredibly gifted naturally. They don't have the time to be as disciplined as me, simply because I have the luxury of being a working musician, and they have to supplement their musicianship with Work That Feels Like Work. Regardless, they're great, and they're my brothers.
Overall, it's been a hell of a last few years. There isn't much that remains the same in my life as the last time I checked in, aside from the fact that I'm still a music addict, I'm still in California, I'm still a cis-hetero white dude who does his best (and sometimes, regrettably, fails) to make space for folks who aren't like me, and I still have absolutely zero tolerance for bullshit.
In any case, I don't imagine I'll be spending much time here. Not because of the heated way in which I left the forums last time, and not because I don't love the folks I know who are still here,, and honestly not even anything personal at all. It's because I lead a pretty busy life, and because I've been working on paying less attention to Greater Social Media, and more attention to the people I can interact with more intimately. I feel like my meat-life persona has historically been more of a micro thing while my online persona has been more of a macro thing, and I have been enjoying some nice results by reversing the two, and also maybe finding a good middle ground that favors meat-life a little more.
I sincerely hope that all of you are doing well. Whether we've historically gotten along or not, whether we agree on anything or not, I hope you're all happy, and that you're being the best people you can be. Preferably at the same time