Thoughts of a Former Blackout Drunk

Words are generally meaningless. I’ve found it much more helpful to ignore what people say and look at behavior. It is only after I’ve spent significant time evaluating my social environment that I can find any significance in the things people say. Most of it is post modern. It sucks, because language has the capacity to communicate logically, especially with the help of a means of directing the flow of communication. I can see how a really simple programming language like python could help people understand ideological divides, so that they can ultimately conclude the problem is the emotions we attach to our values from experiences and trauma. It took me a long time to figure out how to relate to the people around me. It is still a struggle. It is one of the reasons I love a foriegn polyglot wife and produced a son who is very proud to be a social floater. I miss good dialogue. Most people can’t go more than three layers deep into a conversation without me accidentally upsetting them or them wandering off into word salad. I wish I had more time in life. I feel like I wasted a good chunk of it trying to obliterate my consiousness, because I just hated myself so bad. I think the weirdest part of truly recovering from alcoholism is understanding I drank because I hated living and suddenly really wanting to live. In the end, I’m not an alcoholic so much as a recovering nihilist who found an existential way to transcend the absurdity of my situation of being a bunch of self aware chemicals and microorganisms.