kazatasupa

my 83 year old grandmother has arthritis so bad that she can barely walk. she's fallen 11 times (so she recalls) and has a difficult time getting back to her feet. after dinner, i helped her to her car door, walked back around the front of the car, stepped off the curbed sidewald and fell flat on my face.

"shit," my grandmother yelps, "are you okay?" bouncing back up i reply, "oh, yea... i do this everytime i have too much to drink."

i'm good. i'm real good.

Last night, Jason and I sat at the Marmot Mesa Brewery, far too long, in wait for the others. We ate appetizers and went through 4 pitchers of beer. The pitchers, which had come at a price of $5 per before the Olympics are now $10 - but once the bill came, we were in no shape to care about the increase in price.

My lack of tolerance for alcohol would be nice on my wallet, if I knew how to gage my limit. I'm used to drinking all night long, without much thought as to the physical repercussions...

As with two weekends ago (the last time I drank), I had too much by having less than I'm use to drinking. Strange, indeed...

I love drinking, but the knowing how sensitive my body is to alcohol now... I'm worried about falling into another cycle of drawn-out, intense drinking. I'm almost 30 (a reoccurring theme in my journal as of late), and am in need of a personal drinking ethic... I can't be careless with my body any longer. I can't risk losing the health that I do enjoy.

I've always had a huge appetite, for many things... and, in the course of my growth as an individual, i have had to employ moderation as a rule of thumb for various activities (eating for instance). I know that I have made a tremendous cut in the frequency of my drinking, but the volume that I drink when I do go out is still too much for my body. I suppose it is time to learn moderation in drinking. I can't waste brain cells any longer.... and I like being a light-weight. It's good for my soul (and my liver).

Once the others arrived (and enjoyed a few pitchers for themselves) we left in search of a jazz bar. Our first stop, at The Bull and Bear, we found kareoke night and were accosted by a drunk singing "Califorication." We left quickly and headed south, ending up at the Cabana where we found a warm fire place a one-guy entertainment center... he was playing a Frank Sinatra song, so we decided to stay. After Frank, he broke into an Elton John frenzy... Shit. I liked it.

Ruth had too much to drink. She was sitting behind me in the booth, as I was faced towards Jared, when she told me that she loved me (she meant it in a friendly manner - as she really has a thing for Jared) and I, drunk and rude, turned to her and let lose a monstrous belch (which left jared in a hysterical fit of laughter). Poor, poor Ruth... After Jared and I were able to wipe the tears from our eyes, and straighten out our faces, I turned to Ruth and let her know that I loved her also. She is a good kid, really... and a good sport.

Sometimes I have few, if any manners.

I'm at the damn school. So much for my fucking Saturday. I hate this place. I have to help run a concession stand for the philosophy club (fund raiser). I thought I would come early, check my e-mail and write a few things before I waste my night away by handing out popcorn. I wish I didn't work here. I wish I didn't respect the people who hover above the club (professors). If I had no connections to this silly outfit, I would bring a flask with something potent... getting drunk on a Saturday night, isn't that what I'm supposed to do. God, I'm frustrated with certain processes and commitments in my life.

I made myself go hiking this morning up Rock Canyon. It's a beautiful place, minus all the people. The mouth of the canyon opens up right behind Provo's Mormon temple. And, although you can not drive through the canyon, it is easily accessible by foot. Lately, I have been able to see big horned sheep and mountain goats around the mouth, and I have seen moose occasionally... but all I saw today were a pair of grouse (which shouldn't be considered insignificant, for I have never seen a grouse up there). Hiking is good for the soul... I know old Pirsig wrote about having the Zen within, or something... but being in nature, with my heart working to push my body up the hill, usually helps me sort through all of the shit that is going on in life. One of my professors calls it meditating. I think I am just forcefully pushing the logjam out.

So, while I was hiking I could only really think about how fat I have gotten. It's a joke to me, really... and some people would say that I am not fat. However, I've been working on a beer Buddha for a couple of years, and minus the aesthetic bliss I have achieved from this round mound, I feel terrible. There was a time, only three years ago, when I could run up rock canyon. Now I have to stop in order for my breath to catch up with my will. At one time, in my early twenties, I weighed 305 pounds and, after a year of hard work, I got down to 208. I had so much energy back then. I'm sitting at about 252 right now... not much energy. So, here is the plan (yes, I devised this on my little hike). I am going to start working out three nights (Monday, Wednesday and Friday). Tuesday's and Thursday's I am going to either go hiking, or snow shoeing, or workout in the gym. Saturdays and Sundays will be reserved for hiking, or snowshoeing. Also, I plan on walking to the coffee shop every morning (briskly, for a nice wake up stretch of the legs) and paying close attention to my caloric intake. I've got to start feeling better. So, I guess I'll keep people posted on how I am doing. A public diet, if you will... (kind of like that Wilson girl having her stomach shrinking surgery broadcast across the Internet).

Well... I'm off to serve popcorn. I'm looking forward to coffee tomorrow with d. and a. and whomever else.