To anyone curious as to where I’ve been, buckle the fuck up...

To anyone curious as to where I’ve been, buckle the fuck up. When we last left our hero, I was stuck in rehab. My time there was cut short, however, at the beginning of September when I received a very curious phone call. Prior to being locked up, I signed a contract for a new job that would require me to relocate, my start date was October 4th. My soon-to-be boss knew I was in rehab so he called me to see how I was doing and make sure that I was ready to start work on the 13th. I said that I was, and that I appreciated him pushing my start date back, but that it wasn’t necessary because I still planned to start on the 4th. He seemed surprised, saying “Are you sure? I mean, that’s in just a couple of days.” I asked if we were still talking about October. We were not. We were talking about September. Apparently a new start date was agreed upon while I was in rehab and no one was able to reach me in order to tell me. Not wanting to be one to let down a company that had been so very nice and accommodating toward me, I got to work on moving within the new time frame. I still didn’t have an apartment lined up (I planned on spending the month of September doing that) so I made that my top priority. I actually found one about two days later. It was the earliest available one I could find (available October 8th), and was going to cost a fucking fortune, but I got it. ... I had about a week and a half left to spend in Birmingham. That time was spent thusly: -I went out with some of my friends for the first time since being home only to find out that one of them had died in his sleep from heart failure while I was gone. He had actually texted me the day of his passing. I never responded. We drank for him that night. -I went to an art show with my friend, Jess, and we got to see a couple of local punk bands that happened to be playing. One band played a cover of “bonzo goes to bitburg” by The Ramones and I rushed the stage, stole the microphone, and sang it myself because I fucking love that song. The singer was impressed with my tenacity so he didn’t mind. -I went to my favorite bar, Lou’s Pub, and some lady recognized me from somewhere so she invited me to go to a hardcore show with her. I went and the bands were incredible, so raw and unapologetic. I got my nose broken in the mosh pit and some e-girl came over to sit with me and help me get my bloody mask off. -I went to a goodbye dinner with Jess and a couple of other friends. We got trashed on saké and stuffed our faces with ramen. After that, we walked the sidewalk of a downtown area where the city had imprinted on it the names of people who were important to Birmingham. They clearly forgot two names because we never saw ours. -I finally went to see The Queers for the first time! Someone I dated for a while, who I fell extremely hard for and then was ghosted by, showed up. We talked for a really long time until we made amends. Then we drank tequila and moshed until we were black and blue while our faces were being rocked entirely off. It’s gone, I have no more face. ... September 13th came and I started my new job. Because I was still waiting for the new apartment to be available, I had to commute an hour and a half to work every day. It was exhausting but the job was worth it and I did so happily. My body, however, did not give a shit how happy I was. Three days in, I fell asleep on the drive home and hit an RV on the interstate. It was raining so I slid from one side of the interstate to the other and ended up in the median. My car was totaled but I managed to make it out without a scratch on me. A tow truck came and got my car, then they dropped me off at a bar in the middle of nowhere. I called my boss to tell him what happened. He came and got me, we had a drink, I had five more, then he drove me all the way back home. The next day I fell ill with what turned out to be a kidney infection. I thought I might get better on my own (before I really knew what was wrong) but after a few days I realized I was only getting worse. When I finally went to the doctor, they gave me some medicine and sent me on my way. I ended up having an adverse reaction to the medication and actually got twice as sick as I was before. After going back to the doctor and getting a different kind of medicine medicine, as well as about a week of recovery, I was finally back to work. I chose from that point on to stay at a hotel near my job until my apartment was available because I was now afraid of the drive. I also didn’t have a car to commute with even if I wanted to. Coincidentally though, I had actually been planning to get a new car, I just wasn’t expecting to have to so soon. After only a few short days, and an approximate fuck-ton of paperwork later, I was able to get the car I’ve wanted for years now: a black Jeep Patriot Sport. It has a practical body, but also looks nice, while still being affordable and is probably going to break down in about five years; it’s just like me 💅 The night I got my news wheels, I was back out on the town...and that is when I learned that this new city I am in really doesn’t have much to offer. I did manage to find these three bars that are somehow connected into this amalgamate ultra mega bar. That was where I met Alex, the sergeant/general/whatever it is that is in charger of an Air Force unit. He and his unit were out drinking. He and his unit were also very attractive. They were all very nice and friendly to me and, even though the night didn’t end with the Uncle Sam orgy that I was desperately hoping for, we all had a great night sitting and sharing our stories with one another. The next night I accidentally crashed a wedding. Not much more to tell about that to be honest, it was very short lived. I was back in Birmingham, packing for the move, when across the street I heard a band playing “footloose” by Kenny Logins and I instinctively ran toward it. I found where the band was playing, hopped the fence to get in, and ended up in a wedding. I un-hopped the fence as fast as possible and went about my night, greatly embarrassed. ... I spent the next few days frantically trying to get everything squared away for the new apartment (power, Internet, insurance, etc.). I even had one company tried to tell me that I didn’t exist, meaning I was not a part of the universe, despite having used their services before. After much tribulation, and much more patience from my boss because of all the extended lunch breaks I took trying to sort this all out, I finally moved into my new place on October 8th. I couldn’t be happier with it. I have a living room with a fire place, a dining room, a kitchen with a small bar, a laundry room (like, an actual room), an office, a guest bathroom, a bedroom with two closets, and a master bath with sooo much counter space. Oh, I even have one of those old wood panel built-in wall stereo units. All of that is mundane and trivial, I know, but I have never really had any of it. Now I do though, and all because I nailed some 2x4s together. Well, also because I showed the internet my titties. ... After my first night in the new apartment I was already getting antsy as the fear and anxiety of domestication began to set in. I thought maybe going out and making some questionable decisions might help, so I went up to Birmingham to see a friends band play and maybe get into trouble. By the time I made it to Birmingham, the band had already stopped playing. However, bar they were playing at was having a watch party for a football game, so I decided to stay. I don’t really give a shit about football, but I do enjoy the camaraderie. I found a seat at the bar where a man introduced himself to me. His said his name was Alejandro, that he was from Portugal and very excited to be in America, experiencing the culture and sharing his own. Something happened in the football game that excited Alejandro and he raised his drink for a cheers. He saw my glass was empty, so he offered to buy me a pisco sour, which is apparently a very popular drink in Portugal. He told me it would give me bigger boobs and a bigger butt. I told him that I would take two. The bartender made my drink then made a couple of extra shots from the mix for anyone else that wanted to try it. A man sitting to the other side of me spoke up and said he would take one. I looked over to see who this man was and, when I did, Berlin’s “Take my breath away” started playing in my head. The man and I discussed the drink, as well as any and everything for the next three hours. I was completely enamored with him and would have sat there for another three hours talking but the bar was closing and they kicked us out. After that, we both decided it was time to go home so the man walked me to my car and said goodbye. I was afraid he wasn’t going to ask me for my number so, for the first time in my life, I asked a man for his. He gave it to me. His name was Jake and he is my future husband...he just doesn’t know it yet 💅 ... Yesterday was the first full day in my new apartment and today was my first uninterrupted day of work. I finally feel a sense of consistency, normalcy, and longevity in what I’m doing. It scares the hell out of me, but to that I say: “If it weren’t for the constant motion of work I would have blown out years ago. It’s the only way to get rid of the pain that follows me. I’m not an artist, I’m a reaction to life. I know that I’m not as strong as life though. Perhaps that’s why I drag it kicking and screaming down the road. It’s mine but also it’s not; I can control life to a certain extent. The parts I can’t control rip me up and keep me moving. I want to get old and disappear without at trace. Take years to learn and unlearn, or learn to forget. Impossible for me now, a challenge for later on. You can go as far as you want in this mother fucker.”