soberly aware

Being sober is strange. I hadn't realized how much I liked being hungover, slightly dopey, slightly indifferent to the world at large. I would leave my apartment, miss the bus, shrug my shoulders and simply wait for the next one while reading a book. I would have more time to read! Or more time to watch people wander past my view. Or less time at work.

I think for the last two years or so I have been drinking at least every night of the week with perhaps three months or so of random days that I have not. That's a really long time. And of course, I never just had one, or two, but often six or seven or more. Some of the best times I've had in the last couple years were centered around alcohol, the consumption of it, and whoever happened to be around.

Being groggy the next day, being half unaware, being out of it meant I never had to listen very hard to anyone, I never had to really care about anyone because half the time I was too worried about getting food in my system or trying not to puke up the booze from the night before.

Everyone has an opinion. It's pretty rare that my opinion and someone else's actually matches, which means I often have to either swallow my opinion like a bitter pill while the other person goes on and on about what they believe they are right about. Oftentimes they are trying to convince me that I don't know what's best for myself. Or tell me how I'm feeling about something.

Sometimes I value these opinions, especially when I solicit them, but for the most part, being sober has made me aware of just how much people talk and how little I listened.