I drove to San Diego today, put Deezy and Saucy in the car for some quality end of the year adventure time. The main goal was a haircut, my sister has this guy Travis who works at Arc Robert Cromean Salon in downtown SD who uses her as a model and gives fantastic cuts, and as money is tight I figured I’d like to get in on this model thing too. I was up for anything, ready to be made over into a new woman, a new outside to match the new insides. I suppose the insides aren’t really new as much as they are simply cleaned off. Everything inside is the same, just rinsed of alcohol, drugs, the things I’d participate in that made me feel not so good about myself. I’ve been trying to grow my hair out for over three years now, obsessed with the idea of having long hair and it being what makes me feminine, just like I was convinced that acrylic nails are what made my hands look feminine. I brought Deezy with me because he had a little side adventure and is fantastic moral support when it comes to change, and Saucy because Dog Beach is in SD and happens to be one of her most favorite places on earth.
We left early this morning and drove straight in, hit up Deezy’s old place and then down to get California Burritos and on to Dog Beach. We spent about an hour walking around the beach, trying our best to protect the delicious wrapped delight from hungry wet dogs, and Saucy ran top speed the entire time. She ran with her mouth wide open, her tongue flying back past her ears, she underestimated the depth of puddles in the sand, and where the beach drops off into ocean, and went swimming plenty of times when she didn’t initially intend to do so. She body slammed other dogs, unsure of her own size and weight, and never stopped running once. No way. No brakes.
After a good toweling session, we hit Arc to meet with Travis, and when I sat down in the chair, I told him I’d like to close my eyes and be his canvas. I asked him to make me new, to make me different, to make me beautiful. I walked in the door at 3pm and out at 7:30… beauty takes quite a while, and thankfully he was patient. My hair is shorter than it’s ever been, and I’m in love with the lines of the cut. I feel like an adult, yes I know I am an adult but now I look in the mirror and I feel like one. He’s the only man I’m going to from now on…. and if you are ever in San Diego I highly suggest giving him a ring.
After the cut, Deez Sauce and I hit OB to visit Bleeze, show him the cut before we hit the highway for LA. Bleeze loved it, always loving Bleeze, and we were in desperate need of pizza so we hit Newport St. I know I had mentioned how difficult it is to imagine these holidays without drinking, and I’ve been doing the meetings and reaching out thing, but Newport was my stomping grounds for quite awhile, I’ve drank at every single bar on the street and I had no clue what a big trigger going back would be. I’ve driven through, no problem, but getting out of the car, hitting a pizza place I used to hit when drunk food was the only answer, it’s amazing how much fun I had on that damn street. It’s amazing how the fun is all I could think of.
Deez and I talked about it on the way back, and I told him Newport was always fun for me. He said that may be true but drinking is not always fun, and that I basically shouldn’t be confusing the two. Newport represents the rare occasion where I didn’t get thrown out of the bar, where my life didn’t spiral out of control, where I could have a few drinks, eat a burrito and go home. One street in my entire career was safe for me, and I’m sure it eventually became unsafe, and I’m just failing to remember the bad times.
That’s addiction, working at it’s finest. It’s the voice inside that says “it wasn’t that bad” or “boy we sure had fun,” it’s the flood of memories that wash through my veins when I step off the curb and look down past the bars to the ocean, and those selected memories are good and fun and light and fluffy. It’s the desire to jump back in that comfortably numb zone, where nothing changes and it’s easy and I go to sleep right away. Addiction tells me “maybe I’m not at addict.” but the truth of the matter is that people who aren’t addicts don’t question whether they are or not. The end.
So we left OB, we left Newport and the smell of beer, the laughter and weed smoke that wafts in from the beach. We ate our pizza and left, me in my new hair and Deez and Sauce in my soon to be old car. It leaves the 2nd, I’ve lined it all up, the surrender, and figure the second day of this new year is the perfect day to give up the symbol of my old lifestyle and let go of the ideals regarding independency dependent upon a car. I’m spending tomorrow thinking about the past year and setting goals for the year ahead, a more structured list of resolutions, and I’m glad to be out of the old haunt and into the new me.