Currently, there are two versions of me in circulation.

Version 1.0 is the hardcore party girl. She�ll drink you under the table and then do all your drugs. She�s part of a tight-knit circle of like-minded hedonists but is more than happy to get fucked up at home alone too. She can stay up for days on end and regularly goes to work on two hours of sleep. The observer may see her as amusing, depressing and/or pathetic, and perhaps all three at once.

Version 2.0 is a dedicated volunteer, working at feeding programs for homeless people. She trained for a marathon alone and when it was cancelled she ran it alone. She is close with her sister but seems to have few other friends and not much of a social life. She sleeps nine hours a night and sometimes goes to bed at 8:00. The observer may find her inspiring or maybe boring, or she may make the observer feel kind of crappy about himself.

My old friends, the ones I�m no longer in touch with, have Version 1.0. My sister and the couple of friends I�ve carried over have both versions. My new roommates only have Version 2.0. That�s the most updated version, but it doesn�t really provide them with all the information I think they need to understand me.

My new roommates have expressed some admiration for my volunteering and my fitness regimen. (I should note here that they are no slouches in the public service and personal fitness departments themselves.) But every time they compliment me, I feel a need to explain or disclaim. I want to say something like, �But you don�t know what I�ve got to make up for!�

Huh. Is it true � am I just trying to make amends? To my body, for the years of abuse, and to society at large, for various small crimes? I�d like to think that I am naturally drawn to exercise and volunteering, because of their inherent rightness. But would I be leading volunteer projects and running marathons (okay, just the one marathon) if I had not spent the last ten years drinking and doing drugs? Maybe not.

I�ve avoided thinking much about what my life might be like now if I�d made different choices. I haven�t thought about what might have been if I hadn�t been so drunk. This is mostly because up to this point I�ve refused to admit that maybe there were better ways I could have spent the last ten years. Rather, I�ve preferred to believe that I�ve merely shifted from one way of life (drinking) to another (sobriety), kind of just for fun, without making value judgments about either lifestyle. What a crock of shit. I�m amazed at the crap that continues to flow out of my brain. I need a brain enema.

So, admitting that I�ve spent the last ten years in an emotional sinkhole and an isolating social milieu that deformed my personality like a bound foot, who am I really, and what might have been? Strangely, my first thought is that I might have had kids by now. For someone who claims not to have much interest in breeding, the idea of a non-alkie version of me toting a baby around an alternate universe is kind of breaking my heart.

Okay, time for that brain enema.

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