The Closing Speakeasy

I’ve fallen off the wagon.  I realize that my posting schedule has gotten to be way off.  I could sit here and write that it’s all because of the holidays and the travel I had to do over the holidays, and that would be partially true, though I did manage to post twice while I was traveling.  Which means, I guess, that that argument doesn’t hold water.  I could also blame it on my astigmatism, which has gotten much worse of late, but now I have contacts that correct that – so that doesn’t really hold water either.

I can’t blame it on anything but myself.  I’ve been out, visiting people, living my live, and in doing so, running into things that I can’t write about, either to preserve the privacy of my family, the safety of some of my friends, or because some of it I don’t even quite understand well enough to write about yet.  You could say, “Well, Victoria, you could go back to writing about STDs.”  I intend to.  Very shortly.  Because I made a promise and because it amuses the hell out of me to make up those ridiculous titles (and then, later, to see how many SPAM comments I get from Porn sites that find me on Google due to the tags).

But for now…

Things should pick up some.  I’m throwing some parties.  I’m not the sociable type, but I sort of have to.  Not the wild, Military Ball parties that I wrote about several months ago.  Those days are behind me.  I’ve made a commitment to back off the dating scene (and, consequentially, the sex scene) for several months, and I’m sticking to it.  Thank god for vibrators.  But this time because I have a LOT of alcohol to dispose of.  And I don’t drink alone.

There are, in total, eight bottles of Cider, one bottle of wine, and four bottles of vodka sitting on my counter and/or in my freezer of the following varieties: cake, chocolate, whipped chocolate, and cotton candy.  The Cotton Candy was left here by Metalhead.  I can’t even smell that stuff without wanting to vomit.  I may just give that back to him.  The rest I have to figure out what to do with… and since I don’t drink alone, I need help.  My friends have, generously, offered to help me dispose (drink?) of it all.  Albeit not at once.  It’s going to take awhile to get rid of all of this.  Why am I throwing parties reminiscent of the closing of a 1920s Speakeasy?

Because Botboy is back, to one degree or another.  And he doesn’t drink.  Things are different now, they are not moving very fast at all – creeping, more like, and I do not expect him to move in here when he gets back… however, if I’m going to be spending any time with him at all, or if he’s going to be spending any time here with me, I want this place devoid of alcohol.  I don’t need it… I barely drink it.  But, I hate to see it go to waste.  As in, I hate dumping it all in the sink the way that I did last May after I got disgusted at myself for getting sloppy shitfaced on cheap vodka out of a loss for coping mechanisms when he ran out of here.  It was cheap.  It was the same stuff I’d been sending him, and I could not for the life of me figure out how one could drink that stuff like water after I tried it.  But since I’d gotten rid of all the good stuff, leaving only this bottle behind because I’d totally forgotten it that morning when I gave the rest to Jaye at work, it was all I had.  And sometimes you have to do what you have to do.

That said, I’m not just doing this for Botboy.  I really don’t drink all that much anymore.  I do when I’m out with people who are drinking… oh, it’s very easy to get me in the drinking mood.  And I do a lot of ridiculous things when I drink – I sing a lot.  I dance a lot.  I go swimming in very cold pools in my clothes (or my underwear if I think it through a little).  I get carried through parking lots by men in uniform because I don’t want to walk anymore.  I get kicked out of beach-front parking lots by Homeland Security because I wasn’t thinking and decided to go for a walk right in front of the building after dark.  I’m a rebel when sober… it becomes problematic when I drink.  But I’m realizing that while all of this is fun, for a minute, until the hangover the next morning, it’s time for a change.  Time to grow up.  I have goals.  I will reach them, one way or another, and those goals will require me to lay off of the alcohol.  I need a clear head to finish them.  And a fuller wallet.

So… the second purpose for these parties is to try a new Tarot strategy.  I finished my CHTR class a month ago.  Passed with flying colors.  I learned a new layout, one I really like to use, but I’m realizing, the more often I read that layout, that the cards seem to be choosing to speak to me in a different way than what was prescribed during the class.  I discovered this when I was reading for myself.  But that’s the thing about reading for yourself.  You can do it, but it’s really, really hard to do – when you read for yourself, you’re either your own best friend or your own worst enemy.  Some things are clear as a bell.  Other things have double meanings.  And the two cards that fall in those two positions didn’t mean quite what I thought they meant.  But before I utilize what I think they’re doing on others, I need to test it.

So, I did my first experiment about a week ago on a guinea pig.  It seemed to work out.  As in, it seemed to help tell the overall story of the layout – and by the way, after being certified, I can honestly say that it is MUCH easier to read for someone else than it is to read for myself… even without knowing what I’m reading, exactly; that’s about letting the cards speak to me rather than trying to decipher what they may or may not be saying.  Anyway.  Once those trials were completed, I realized I needed to do it for more people.  Sadly, a lot of people I know think that the cards are the devil (they aren’t).  So my sample will be limited.  But… doable.  Doable enough to make me confident in that I’ll be able to tell what they are or are not saying.

So there it is… my plans for this new… hiatus… as it were.  And the question you ask, if you’ve been here since the beginning, may be the same question as the ones my friends have had since I told them what I was doing:  What happens if he does it again?

The answer to that is simple.  I’m doing this, mostly, for me.  I need a break.  I need the time off.  I want him, yes.  I don’t want anyone else, and I may never want anyone else (and I have a backup plan in place for that, too – because that’s how I roll). If what happens in a few months is the same as what happened before, it’ll be disappointing, yes.  But not devastating.  I have a feeling that I’ll know which way the wind is blowing long before the storm approaches and I’ll be able to do what I need to do to prepare for it – if in fact that is necessary.  But I also know what I know… I go with my gut.  My gut tells me to do this, the voices tell me do this, and I listen because they’ve never been wrong (like ever – and I have the written channel writings to prove it).

And anyway, if they are, I can always buy more alcohol.

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