Writer Interrupted

At last; a chance to write from "home."  Isn't it funny how some routines are so important to our overall sense of happiness and well-being? Even a simple routine as waking up, brewing coffee and blogging? 

It hasn't exactly been the easiest task; wandering around from one end of the city to another looking for a place to write.  Most coffee houses are packed with fellow writers or simply a dozen or so people with little battery life.  The outlets are a hot commodity to come by; as almost every person wants to charge... something. 

I would attempt to write from my Mini i-Pad from a crowded Starbucks or other local spot offering free wifi.  But unfortunately, that is not always the most ideal environment.  And I have yet to find my own little writers corner... my spot.  Furthermore, I am always in between appointments or am off to the grocery store, catching a train, fiddling with my new work materials or simply lying down to catch some much needed zzzzzzzzzzs. 

So today, I finally feel comfortable enough to brew coffee and write from the apartment I am sharing for the month.  It's quiet this morning and I don't have to go into work until 8 p.m. tonight. 

You see, I was in in a terrible funk the past two days; unable to find a place or a good time to write.  I am just the type of person who really enjoys a certain amount of structure.  So when I knew I had pretty much the entire day to myself before heading into the city to work, I jumped at the opportunity to write: still in my pajamas and sipping pumpkin spiced coffee from Trader Joe's market.  

In some ways, I can't believe I have only been in New York a week.  I've been training at a new serving job and reconnecting with friends who live here.  Almost every moment has been filled in some way, even if only by the long walks I would take around Central Park.  

I realized something just before falling asleep last night; constant creativity produces more creativity.  It isn't something that dries up.  Creativity is rather like a muscle that only gets stronger the more it is flexed and exercised.  And so, I must continue my creative pursuits.  As steady as ever, I must nurture creativity as best as I possibly can.  

This is such a creative place.  And everywhere I look I am surrounded by the people who are actually "making it."  

If only that were me.  Another bottle of Champagne please... 

This is all part of serving the bigger picture though. And from the bottom of my heart, I wish to get there one day: sitting at the table rather than standing before it.  

But for now, I am on my way to writing a new chapter; a new story.  

This past week of moving and getting a job has most certainly interrupted the steady flow of creativity that I suppose I had, in some ways, taken for granted.  Let's just say I was a writer interrupted.  

But I believe that now, more than ever, is the time to protect and serve creativity as best as I can; establishing a sense of structure in an otherwise volatile but thrilling moment in time.  

Today:

Gin Rickey

1 1/2 oz Gin

1/2 oz Lime Juice

Splash of Soda

On the Rocks in a Highball Glass

Serendipity

If I could describe my first day in New York, I would have to say that it has been nothing short of surreal.  I pretty much cannot emphasize that enough. If you read along, you'll no doubt agree.

What if I told you that on my very first day in Manhattan, I literally ran into someone I once loved very much? Someone I haven't seen for nearly fifteen years... Would you believe it? Yeah... I couldn't really either! But I did... and it may be one of the craziest experiences of my life.

Allow me to explain.

I woke up bright and early today in an attempt to tackle a very busy day in the city.  I had to meet up with my friend to grab his set of apartment keys and then get ready for my job interview.  I was way way ahead of schedule though; leaving me with a few extra hours to kill beforehand.

So I walked around the block to the Chelsea Market to grab a quick snack and say hello to my friend who works there, when I was suddenly caught off guard by a man who was giving me a very perplexing look.  The place was very crowded; people were everywhere.  But for one split second, it was just us. He stopped dead in his tracks: frozen, wide-eyed, hands visibly trembling.  It took a few moments, seconds really, to recognize each other.  And I could not believe my eyes.

Could this really be happening??

And there, in the middle of one of the busiest most crowded cities in the United States, I embraced one of the first guys I ever really loved.

I was sixteen years old when I first met him.  He was older (naturally)... and had that kind of edge about him that makes every good girl suddenly feel like a little rebel.

He was an artist, a poet and a musician; otherwise known as a triple threat.  He brought out creativity in me that I practice to this day. He also introduced me to Indian food, which is probably one of my favorite souvenirs from our time spent together.  It was so "mature."

It was a really dramatic break-up... as almost all teenage romances certainly are.  And I've often wondered what had become of this person who meant so much to me all those years ago.

If he hadn't seen me, I would have just missed it completely.  And now, a rather small conceived idea of killing some time, actually transpired to one of the most intense mind blowing, cataclysmic moments I have EVER experienced.

Everything that we've said to each other today is too personal to really share here; and anyway, the details wouldn't really make much sense to people who didn't know us when we were together so long ago.  We were so young when we last saw each other. But he was the kind of person who really stuck in my memory: he helped shape the artist, the writer and character I am even to this day.

I can hardly find the words to  describe what an amazing and life changing moment this was for me today, but the reality of this bizarre twist of fate has left me completely and utterly awe-stuck.  And dare I go so far as to say, inspired. 

I went about the rest of my day in an absolute haze.  I was abuzz with shock and bewilderment by this serendipitous encounter.

And as I lay my head down to wander away into a quiet reflection of the day, I  have made a rather startling discovery; there is magic in Manhattan. And I just got one huge, healthy serving of it.  

I'm certainly 'Not in Kansas anymore.'

Today:

Apple Martini

1 1/2 oz Vodka 
1 1/2 oz Sour Apple Pucker
Splash of Sour 

Shaken and served up.

Get Serious...

Sometimes in life, you just have to get real.  Get serious.  It is part of the growing process; knowing when to put away certain fanciful dreams or unrealistic aspirations... right?  

Isn't that why it's called reality?

Well, lately I am struggling to grasp this entire philosophy.  I am in a process of juggling "reality" with my desire to pursue a (hopefully successful) career in the Arts.  

Yesterday, I sat around for a long time, thinking about this whole business of writing.  I have been engrossed in this medium for a very long time and most recently, developed some regularity with it.  But then someone said I ought to really write, you know, seriously.  

This left me almost short of breath as the word "seriously" washed over me.  Am I not taking my writing seriously... or rather, myself seriously? 

I've only just begun writing again on a regular basis, but lately I have been wondering if I should I apply all this creative energy to a more serious pursuit: like maybe a screenplay or novel.  

But then, I go into a really negative zone and begin to feel (dare I even utter the word) blocked.  And then the blockage seems to creep into the other free flowing creative outlets, spreading a foggy haze.  

And it makes me feel frightfully inadequate. 

So that is where I am at tonight; feeling a little blocked, a little foggy and seriously concerned that nothing will amount from any of this.  

I suspect we all have days like this; and today is just one of those days for me.  

Hopefully, I will snap out of it soon and get back to my regular old self; you remember the one, full of positivity, witty anecdotes and metaphors galore??? Yup, that's the one.  

Seriously... that's about as serious a writer I am gonna get tonight.  

Today:

1 oz Malibu

Splash of Pineapple Juice

Pushing Buttons

I once heard it said that 'it's our family who are the most capable of pushing our buttons, because they are the ones who installed them.'  I don't know about your family, but in mine, I would say this is quite true.  People tend to think of this phrase in a negative way, but I am fairly certain that my family's circuit boards are well equipped with all kinds of buttons: some extra sensitive, some are capable of great destruction, while others are mostly pushed to send a resurgence of warm thoughts, shared hopes and love.

It's funny how we tend to carry on whatever our parents, grandparents and favorite uncles instilled in us.  When we are young, we think we are so different from our parents.  And yet, as the years go by, the similarities creep in more and more.  I can only imagine how this will mold and shape the generations to come.

It can be a scary thought; passing along whatever nuggets of wisdom or peculiar traits we pick up from our upbringing.  How much do you borrow from your parents? And which things are you better off checking at the door??

Is it like a recipe that we feel the need to keep secret and follow to the very letter? Or, should we attempt to improve upon the recipe all together??

It's a sticky subject, but in this day and age, I think it is a rather necessary one to consider.

As a writer and storyteller, I tend to sit back at observe others whether I am consciously aware of it or not.  And I can't help but get some sort of bizarre satisfaction over the dialogue that I overhear on a daily basis.  The things people do and say while at work vs. their home environment is rather amusing.  And I am sure, the same can be true for my own little quirks and sense of humor.

Some characteristics are intensified while surrounded by my family.  And I truly believe it has a little something to do with those buttons I mentioned earlier...

The truth is, I think I've finally come to grips with how similar I am to various members of my family, and on the flip side, how very different I am as well.

The most unfortunate souvenir we carry along with us is this business of needling the people we love the most.  I am not sure who decided way back in the day that picking on their loved ones was some fascinating display of affection, but it seems quite common not only in my nuclear family, but also among other families and within relationships that I see all around me each and every single day. Maybe its the way we manage to stand the people we share our past, present and future histories with. Hmmmm...

But overall, I think we could really do without it.  I wouldn't mind if instead of needling one another, we tried harder instead to build each other up.  Now that is a button I wouldn't mind dusting off for the betterment of all our sanity.

Why not try a little harder to keep our hands to ourselves and leave other peoples'
(more sensitive) buttons the hell alone! Or in the very least, press some positive buttons to build each other up while your're on a roll...

I think that would be a refreshing change of pace for sure!

Today:

Gin & Tonic! 
1 oz Gin
Splash of Tonic 
On the Rocks with a Lime Wedge!!
Delicious, refreshing and so simple!!!

Here with my big brother... the ultimate picker and best friend!!!  

Below: Two future buttons pushers (my nieces)!!

The Greatest of These is Love

For a very long time, I have been engrossed in a constant dialogue with the Divine.  It is a very personal conversation we've shared all these years, so I would rather not attempt to quantify what this exchange has meant to me.  What would be the point of that anyhow? As I said, it's a rather private conversation.

I am not someone who has the desire to set out to change other people (for the most part anyway). Ask my ex-boyfriends and they may argue otherwise. And perhaps that says more about me than I would like. Oh well... I guess I can live with that if the shoe fits (me).

What I mean is this: I cannot pretend to understand what life is like in your shoes.  And I would certainly hope that you would extend to me a similar offering.

But what I have come to understand with relative certainty is that the most Supreme force in existence is love.  From where I stand, it is love that is the ultimate trump card.

From love stems the most bountiful and gracious elements of our beings (and furthermore, beyond our beings). From a place of love we may also be so humbled to encounter true compassion, forgiveness, honesty, awakening and surrender. The rest are just the details.

I suppose I am moved to write about love tonight, because from where I sit, I am fortunate enough to be surrounded by so much of it: my family.

Last week, a very good friend of mine suffered a great loss in his family.  And when I went about completing the mundane tasks of my daily life, I couldn't help but notice the sinking feeling I had on my shoulders that hovered about me like a heavy winter jacket.  There was a sadness looming in the air that I couldn't shake.  But what I came to realize over the ensuing days, was the undeniable fact that I was not alone in this feeling... far from it.  All of the friends who know and love this person, felt a weight of sorrow for the experience he is facing.

There was a collective feeling of loss that we felt for our friend.  Though we may not know the loss in the same way as he who had directly suffered it, that did not prevent us from feeling the gravity of it all and carrying it around with us too. Why?  Because we love our friend.  We love him so much that we are profoundly affected by what happens to him whether it is good or bad.

Now imagine that you love your country, your heritage, or even better: our planet... What collective state of mourning, of joy, and unity, would we feel if we could all relate to one another under such a common thread of pure goodness?  I imagine that the effects would be quite profound.

I guess I am coming from that insane and innocent idea that we should all really, really, really, really try to get along.  And that in the end, bitterness, resentment and hostility only serve to corrupt our own inherent goodness and spiritual growth.

I'm on a tangent here; I seek to promote and become a great advocate for true, honest, forgiving, relentless, tireless, simple, sweet, compassionate and unwavering love.    

Because there is no greater human emotion than this in my humble opinion.

Love comes in many forms.  And love is tested in arguably many more forms. But what we do when we are given such a tremendous offering of the heart speaks volumes to our own spiritual journey with the Divine, as well as within ourselves.

To my parents, I have to offer all my gratitude, for showing me a very real and unvarnished path to love and in love.  Theirs is a love story that I have no doubt Shakespeare himself would've envied the chance to have committed to the page for future generations to romanticize, memorize and repeat.

And even better... they have passed on to me an appreciation for such a love.

Whether it is a love of your family, your friend, a country or even better yet, a neighbor, my sincerest hope is that we may all experience love in its most real form.

You know, I'm just a simple person.  I have hopes, dreams and aspirations.  I am not afraid of working hard.  But what I truly wish with all my heart for my time here on Earth, and for yours too no matter who you are, is to have experienced ample and honest love in this life.

Like I said before; the rest are just the details.

Wishing you all lots of love, wherever you may be. And know that you are never alone.

Today:

Cuba Libre
1 oz Rum 
Splash of Coca Cola
On the Rocks!
Garnish with a lime wedge!!

A Case of Cold Feet

You can be sure it is going to be a rather stressful day when every thought that crosses your mind upon waking ends with a question mark.  

When am I going to come back from NYC? When am I going to see my dogs again? Will they miss me when I am traveling? Or will they forget all about me?? Where will I get a job? If I get a job, will I end up staying through the winter in New York? Or will I go back to California in January? How long before my funds run out? Am I making the wrong choice? Is this a crazy plan? What if...? Where to...?  How much...???? When??? Why??? How??? Where??? 

I have to tell you, this is not a great way to start out the morning.  I sat in bed for nearly an hour as these questions ran through my mind; similar to the way the numbers on the stock market ticker race by with endless flux. 

And I couldn't help but ask myself one last question before getting out of bed: 'Am I getting cold feet?'  

I've had months to plan this excursion.  I have had ample time to carefully deconstruct every nagging fear or question.  And yet, out of nowhere, I am suddenly overcome with nerves.  

With nearly one week left to go before my impending journey, I feel more anxious than ever about taking this trip.  I know it is going to be such a good thing for me to experience, but the weight of the unknowns is a heavy burden to lug around... along with my huge suitcases. 

All these questions simply cannot be answered until I get there.  

And so, with that in mind, I am trying to look at it as a long vacation...  I have no clue what I will want to do after I arrive.  I am not sure if staying for more than a month or two will pan out.  But how can I know? I simply can't from where I sit right now.  

I guess this is just how life goes.  You have to take some chances and just hope for the best.  We can't always have all the answers laid out perfectly before us on a silver tray, but we can do our best to handle whatever may come. 

I'm just going to have to double up on the socks and slippers this week, suck it up, take a deep breath, pack my yoga mat... and try to keep my feet roasty and toasty...

Getting all worked up over the many variables isn't really doing me any favors.  Time to live and let go.   Let go and let God.  The rest are just the details. And who needs them anyway? Oh shoot... another question mark! 

Guess my feet are still a little chilly after all. Oh well... Better just enjoy what I have right now in front of me; two warm little dogs who love nothing more than to make every moment count. They are the zen masters of living in the present moment. Their paws are always nice and warm. 

 Today:

Absolut Stress

1/2 oz Absolut Vodka

1/2 oz Malibu Rum

1/2 oz Peach Schnapps

Equal Parts Cranberry

Pineapple and Orange Juices

On the Rocks!

Something Out of Nothing

Guess what I am doing at this very moment? (Que Jeopardy music for a ten second pause.) Did you guess blogging?? Well duh.  Aside from the obvious answer, I am actually sitting in a Little Caesar's Pizzeria enjoying my very own large plain cheese.  I am a girl on a budget remember??

In a last ditch effort to shake the money tree, I have gotten fairly... ummmm -----.  Not desperate! No, no... CREATIVE!!  Yes, let's call it creative.

I rounded up about ten years worth of winter jackets, skin tight blue jeans, boots, wedges and host of other miscellaneous accessories and hauled them off to a resale clothing store.  They estimated that the sorting process would take roughly forty-five minutes and so I decided to kill a few birds with one stone.  Eat some lunch, write my blog and hopefully, turn a decades worth of laundry into some cold hard cash.

Let me tell you something folks; I'm getting really good at this part-time business of turning a little somethin' something out of a whole lot of nothing.  

Here's a few tips and tricks I have learned under the gun... or more specifically, a budget. 

1. Someone may actually pay you for those 6" high heels that were a complete mistake/impulse purchase.

2. Little Caesar's Pizza always sells "Hot 'n Ready" large pizzas for $5.00

3. If you want to insure that your $5.00 pizza is actually fresh, make sure to order a plain cheese pizza instead of the pepperoni.  They typically only have pepperonis sitting on stand by, and not plain cheese.  So if you have ten minutes to spare, then you will have a fresh large pizza right out of the oven for five bucks!

4. All that spare change stuck together in your vehicle's cup holders actually amount to something! And if you are patient, and can multitask while watching a movie, you can roll about six hundred pennies in about thirty minutes.  Well six bucks, may not seem like much, but it does buy you that large cheese pizza we were just talking about.

5. A smile and friendly small talk goes a long way.  (The lovely manager at the pizza shop threw in a free drink for me after I told her what a great job she was doing.)

Sometimes it really pays to get creative!!!

This summer I bought a brand new pair of running shoes, an airline ticket to NYC and a full tank of gas, all with the loose change I had stock piled around my apartment in jars, purses and yes, my car.

It just goes to show that you can make a little something out of what you may have thought was nothing.

So if you'll excuse me, I have to pack up the rest of this pizza and walk over to the resale shop and see how much all that loot has earned me!!!

Just one more small step on this road to the big city.

Count your pennies and your blessings!!!! And by all means, get creative!


Today:

Woo Woo

1 1/2 oz Vodka
1 1/2 oz Peach Schnapps
3 oz Cranberry juice
on the rocks!

Another Man's Treasure

All week long I have been dreading the task of going to the Social Security Administration.  Can you blame me?  It has been my own personal experience that any government run institution is a royal pain in the ass; long lines, unruly and impatient children and an either boiling hot or freezing cold climate.  Almost sounds like a dreaded trip to the Verizon Wireless store eh? 

Well anyway.... I finally mustered up the strength to tackle this errand head on today.  Having been fully caffeinated and determined to accomplish this task, I set out armed an ready for a long and unpleasant afternoon.  

When I walked into the local Social Security office I was surprised.  It wasn't nearly as treacherous as I had anticipated.  In fact, I was only one of three people waiting in line. Thank you God.  

"Number twenty-one please, " the man from behind the window called.  That's my number!!! 

After answering a few basic questions, the man looked down at the paperwork and sighed.  I must have looked concerned because he almost immediately explained his long winded exhale.  He looked at my former address and revealed how much he absolutely loved Nashville, TN.  

Before I knew it, we were engulfed in a conversation that reminded me of my own affection for my former residence.  He asked me why I would leave such an amazing city; what had brought me here, and if I ever thought of going back.  

And over the following few seconds, my entire Nashville experience flashed before my eyes.  I thought of my apartment, my favorite hangouts, my wonderful friends and even a few unforgettable memories.  I swallowed hard and cleared my throat as I suddenly remembered where I was: in a government office about a week and a half away from heading off to New York City.  

I suddenly felt a sinking feeling that I had no idea if I would ever have a real reason to go back to Nashville.  Of course I have about a hundred great reasons to visit.  But the thought of actually moving back there one day, washed over me in complete bewilderment.  

I looked up at the man on the opposite side of the counter and gave him the most honest answer I could think of on the fly; "I would have to have a really good reason."

This guy was enamored with and determined to move to the very city I had just departed.  And I couldn't help but hope the best for him.  See, I loved Nashville. I still do.  Perhaps I always will. 

Nashville is the kind of city you can simply exist within without having too much pressure or strain. It is a simpler kind of life.  There is plenty of the world's greatest entertainment, delicious food and some genuinely nice folks.  It is the kind of city that doesn't require much from its inhabitants.  And to be perfectly honest, that was precisely my angst. 

I am not ready to sit idle in a city that allows me to do so with relative ease.  

Perhaps one day, when I am tired of meeting the demands of the world, I will go running back to the South just as fast as my feet can carry me. And living there, I will feel very little push and stress from the rat race.  That isn't such a bad picture; sitting on the front porch in my later years, sipping on a sweet tea.  

But the conversation did refresh my memory of all that I loved about Tennessee.  And oddly enough, the brief exchange between two complete strangers is exactly why Nashville is such a treasure; it brings out the neighborliness in people... even government officials.  

Today was the first pleasant and dare I say, painless, experience I have ever had while at a government run institution.  It was even more pleasant than a trip to the dentist, which is shocking because I pretty much hate having metal tools anywhere near my tonsils. 

It just goes to show that one man's past, just may be another man's treasure.  It is comforting to know that there are always more people lined up eagerly to experience things I have held so dear.  And maybe, one day, I will go back there and have another go 'round of Southern Hospitality.  

In the meantime, I am hungry.  And I think a Big Apple a day is just the medicine I've needed for a long time.  Well that, and a social security card.  

When I turned around, there was suddenly a very long line behind me.  And I couldn't help but smile as I walked out the door,  having accomplished more than what I bargained for in record time. 

Today:

Mint Julep

2 1/2 oz Bourbon

4-5 Mint Sprigs

1/2 oz Simple Syrup

Muddle Mint and Syrup in a collins glass and then

fill the glass with Bourbon.  Stir with crushed ice. 

 

  

  

 

Connecting the Dots

From as far back as I can remember, I've always had a different way of getting the job done.  Didn't really matter what the task at hand was, nor was I really trying to do it differently from everyone else, but I couldn't help it...  The earliest memory of this 'do it yourself' attitude, probably goes back to when I first started kindergarten.  

We were introduced to those "connect the dots" assignments; you know, the ones where the dots are numbered and you follow each one with your crayon or pencil until you reach the end and reveal some kind of animal, vehicle or other basic shape? Yeah, well, apparently I even did that... eh, differently. 

The teacher (bless her heart) stood over my right shoulder and studied my methodology.  I held my pencil steadily in my right hand, without moving an inch.  Then with my left hand, I guided the paper from dot to dot... So I was still completing the picture, just not the way everyone else was.  

"No, no sweetie, move your right hand to connect the dots, not the paper..." 

What's the problem lady? As long as I get it done, why do you care how I did it? Jeeesh!

And so began my plight with formalized education. See, I realized that I do NOT possess that brain cell that is the most adept to short cuts, or common sense...  In fact when I see these types of people who bust out crazy one handed, multi-tasking trickery, I stop and stare as if they are a magician. If left to my own devices, I oftentimes take a more creative, outside the box approach.  But if you put a book in front of me and say, 'study the history of the universe,' I will...

Which leads me to the much dreaded/feared U.S. constitution exam in the eleventh grade.  It was legendary and 'impossible.'  Or so everyone thought.  But I, the weirdo, locked myself in the basement of my house with flash cards, highlighters and way too much candy, and didn't come out for almost four days.  I went to school, took a deep breath, and was the last person to finish the exam. 

By the next class, everyone protested that test.  It wasn't fair.  It was too hard. They all failed miserably...  Then the teacher said, "Well I know for a fact it was possible to pass this test, if you all had studied the material. Because there is one student in this class who not only passed, but she got an A."  He looked at me and I immediately slid down into my chair.  When he held up my exam to class and then walked over to my chair, he set it down in front of me with the most subtle grin I'd ever seen; "Well done. Very well done." 

Oh God, it's going to be a mutiny.  You should have seen the way those kids looked at me; like, 'thanks a lot bitch.' 

My score completely blew their collective protests right out of the water.  There was one other girl in the class who passed and she looked at me like we were the most awesome geeks ever!!  She actually was kinda nerdy though, so I knew she was loving every second of this academic torture.  

I had ruined it for the rest of the class.  But you know what? I'm glad.  It kind of made me feel like a super hero or something.  Because the memory of being "corrected" that day in kindergarten for the way I had completed the assignment always bothered me.  I remember feeling so confused and embarrassed.  I didn't understand why I had to be called out for the way I was connecting the dots.  Especially since the end result was still the same... 

And if my way was harder, why not let me figure it out on my own?  Oh gosh, I can't help but laugh at the image of my pint sized self, moving the paper around and not my right hand... Awww... Bless my heart.  

Those two scholastic memories are obviously the ones that made a huge impact on me.  I learned from a very early age that I might have a different way of doing things... not exactly wrong... just different. And that one day, doing things my way, would pay off in the long run.  

I think there are probably a million ways to connect the dots in life.  It may not be the most obvious or standard approach.  But it's not only okay to be different, it may just be the very thing that separates you from the rest of the class.  And that's not such a bad thing after all.  

I suppose I just need to remind myself every now and then of that girl who has managed to get by just fine by connecting the dots in her very own, unique way.  Who knows what that picture will be? Maybe, when I connect that last dot, what I will see, is just me... 

Or an A+... yeah, that would be okay too. 

Today:

Teacher's Pet

1 1/2 oz Blended Whiskey

1/2 oz Dry Vermouth

1 Tsp. Sweet Vermouth

2 dashes of Bitters

Stir on the Rocks

Garnish with a cherry and orange

Substance Abuse

I have a shocking confession.  This morning, much to my dismay, I did not pour myself my usual cup.  Perhaps there are just some moments in life when you need to look in the mirror and recognize when there is a problem.

Yesterday, after my regular dose of daily brewed wonderment, I couldn't help but notice how my hands shook over the black keys of my macbook.  What is wrong with me?? My stomach had burned and ached for the past week.  There was a steady pinch in my lower back, in what I presumed to be my kidney. And I have had a harder time falling asleep at night.  

And then yesterday happened.  The shakes wouldn't subside until nearly three o'clock in the afternoon. It was bad...

Now, as I have mentioned before, I am no stranger to when it comes to spotting someone with a problem.  When you pour drinks as a means of making a living, there are certain tell-tale signs you look for; especially among the 'regulars.'

When these bar-flies overstay their welcome, you have to swat them away with relentless vigor and tenacity.  While you may be tempted by the thought of a few extra dollars, you ultimately have to look out for the person's best interest and just say no.   

And so, with as much self discipline as I could muster, I turned away from my normal routine and beloved breakfast blend.  

Ladies and gentlemen, friends and readers: today, I have made the heart wrenching switch from my most favorite beverage in the world, coffee, to what will have to suffice until I can hopefully recover... Today, as I type my daily offering, I sip a cup of (brace yourselves) hot tea.  

I really don't know how I feel about this decision.  I think, for some reason, the coffee I couldn't seem to function without, turned on me suddenly.  I could no longer ignore the cold hard truth anymore.  I needed to be cut off.  

I have to be honest, I don't enjoy my hot tea nearly as much as my coffee.  In fact, I am baffled that an entire country could have such strong affection for it.  They even delegated an entire afternoon around the ritual of tea time.  Amazing. 

I wonder... could this be the start of something new?  Will the bittersweet herbs and leaves of black, white and green teas ever grow on me the way the richly bold flavor won my heart long ago? I don't know.  I'm willing to give it a shot though, seeing as how my physical body is protesting the coffee addiction.  

I do not want to wake up one day, with a hole in my stomach, yellow stained teeth, and a dried out complexion due to consistent abuse of my beloved drink: coffee. 

The honorable thing to do, is to take a step back and sip on something a little more gentle and refined.  Ugh, who am I kidding?? I am desperately missing my coffee right now.  

But I do not condone substance abuse.  And so, here begins the first step.  I need to detox.  I am in recovery, one day at a time.  No more coffee... for at least a few days. 

Until then, you may not want to tailgate my car, cut in front of me in the grocery lines, or even ask me to operate heavy machinery... No sir, the next few days may not be too pretty. 

Consider yourselves warned.  This girl has been severely decaffeinated. And it's shaping up to be a pretty rough day.  

Today:

Espresso Martini

1 oz chilled Espresso

1 oz Vodka

1 oz Kahlua

1/2 oc White Creme de Cacao

Shake and strain. 

(Un)Limited Time Offer

Okay... it is time to divulge some seriously embarrassing personal information.  I've considered long and hard whether or not to tell you this, but today I woke up and thought that after two months of reading my blog every day... You've EARNED this juicy bite-sized morsel of autobiography.  Don't worry, you can thank me later.  

Once upon a time, I used to be a Vampire Slayer, a Warrior Princess and a Crime Scene Detective.  (See... I told you it was pretty juicy).  That's right ladies and gentlemen, I am a certified badass.  Or at least, I used to be.

I am pretty sure it was around the fourth or fifth grade when I took up secret training in the backyard of my childhood home.  I understood the risk of ever being found out, so I would pack up some snacks in a backpack and a few good pieces of wood and I'd set out on my own for a couple hours.

Since Vampires were actually a little scarce in my neck of the woods, I practiced my spear throwing at an old, dried up Christmas tree that was out by our horse barn.

I would practice doing flips and kicks while trowing these spears hard into the tree (aka "vampire").  When it occurred to me one day that vampires didn't seem to be as big a threat as my fellow man, I turned in my cross and wooden spears for a horse and a sword and deemed myself a warrior princess.  It seemed to be a natural progression for a slayer like me, and I rather enjoyed my newly regal warrior status.

I would take off on horseback and gallop up the side of the mountain just looking for a villager to rescue.  I spent a long winter scouring the valley for a battle or a villain, but never really found one.  And after months and months of this exhausting search and rescue effort, I decided to retire my sword.

Hmmm what role shall I play now??? 

There was a rather famous person on trial for murder at the time, and so I thought it best to try my hand at investigation.  I was already a skilled tracker and was not afraid of vampires, so how bad could a little detective work be??

I donned a white robe, I mean, a "lab coat" and went to work on the case.  It was a tireless effort of checking under the microscope and examining all the evidence.  And after all my efforts, and the glove didn't fit the suspect, well then I figured I ought to turn in my lab coat for my homework anyway.  After all, I was going to be in the seventh grade soon, and I knew my crime fighting days were numbered...

Or were they??

By the time I was twelve years old, I was already a skilled rider, spear thrower, and investigator; why should I give up on all these remarkable skills??

I suppose I just assumed that the days of make believe were a luxury I couldn't afford in the years ahead.  And in a way, I was sort of right.

To me, playing my hand at the imaginary mellow dramas of the 90s was just not a practical pursuit later on in life.  It was as if playing these various roles had a limited time offer.  

I almost believed that nonsense to be true; that I would someday have to give up on the thing I loved the most... storytelling.  Until one day, when I looked at myself in the mirror and made a decision.  I decided that if I had the discipline to practice my hand at all these roles each and every day after school, perhaps I could also be disciplined enough to never give up on my imagination.

I was correct that in some ways, life as a storyteller was a luxury I couldn't afford. That is, if I wanted everything that my peers could afford.  Classmates and friends have accumulated many things that I would surely enjoy: a house, a brand new car, a consistent paycheck.  Sure, those things would be nice.

But the day that I looked in the mirror and could still see myself as a warrior, a slayer and a street smart investigator, what I really saw was an Unlimited Time Offer.

And I made a decision to do what I love, no matter the cost.

Sure, sometimes I feel kind of like a loser.  To be perfectly honest, life as a storyteller isn't the most glamorous when compared to say, an Architect, Engineer, Doctor or Real Estate Tycoon.  But when I am faced with a severe care of "the flunkies", as I have dubbed it years ago, I can't help but remember the girl who felt like an indestructible BADASS circa 1995.

And it is the very spark I need to keep the fire ignited.

It is a choice.  I could either DO what I love or I could have the things I enjoy.  And what I have come to grips with is that as long as my imagination remains intact and I have the simple company of a few friends and readers... I actually have everything I need at this point in time.  And I am happy enough with that.

When you are passionate about something, well I believe that passion is to be honored.  Because passion and ability are God given gifts, not limited time offers.

So, if I have to imagine myself as the warrior, a servant, or the brave and fearless explorer... well then guess what; that is exactly what I shall do in order to press on and honor the Unlimited Offer of unlimited imagination.  

It doesn't get much juicier than that! 

Ok, now you can thank me... For you see, I am a fool for you; my friends on the other side of the page, the screen, and theater seats.  And to be honest, I don't see that offer expiring any time soon.


Today:

Vampire Slayer

1 oz Peach Schnapps 
1 oz Vodka
1 oz Grenadine
Fill with Orange Juice
Layered over Rocks! 

The Golden Ticket

I love to travel.  No, more than that, I love experiencing making a life in a new place.  As difficult as it may be to arrive somewhere new, I have found that it is typically much more difficult to leave.

So many places have changed my life and shaped the person I am today.  Because it isn't necessarily the geography alone that I have found inspiring, but the people I have met in those various places.  It just goes to show that there are truly amazing people everywhere.  People whose lives become intertwined with yours.  It is a truly magical thing.

Some of my best friends are scattered all across the United States.  They are people I met seemingly by chance, in unexpected places: craigslist, restaurants, and other random encounters.  They are like family to me now, having proved their friendship in a number of generous ways.  

If life were similar to any means of transportation, well then I would say that I have the Golden Ticket. I have been fortunate enough to hop around from place to place every few years and set up camp for awhile.  It hasn't always been easy.  In fact, there were days that were incredibly lonely.  But the overall experience of meeting new people, tasting different foods, working at different jobs and even struggling to get by, was so beneficial to my existence that I wouldn't have traded one minute of it; even the very worst minute. 

The most difficult aspect of having the Golden Ticket, is the moment when it is time to depart.  I do not enjoy saying goodbyes.  

Goodbyes make you think back to your first hello, and how sweetly satisfying the encounter has been.  They are bittersweet. But each person has a different calling.  And for whatever reason, mine has been to slowly travel from one end of the country to the next; accumulating a wealth of friendships and experiences.  

Where it is all heading, I'm not entirely sure.  

Yesterday, with the spare change I rolled all last week, I purchased a ticket to New York City.  It is my next stop on this ever unfolding journey.  I have no idea how long I will stay there: two weeks, two months, or maybe even two years.  Who knows...

I'm exciting to reconnect with some friends who had said goodbye to me once upon a time.  Their paths took them to New York, and we didn't know when we would meet again.  So you see?  They had a Golden Ticket as well.  And when you are fortunate enough to get your hands on one, you'd better climb aboard.  

My friendships make it difficult to leave a place.  But they are also the very same reason I am all the more determined to make my way back around.  I understand that their Golden Ticket may be much different from mine; a marriage, a career, a new baby... These are the factors that play into a person staying settled in one place.  They are the greatest reasons I can think of to stay in one spot, and it is exciting to see what each person accomplishes in their given cities and states.  I love these friends of mine.  I love and respect all that they have achieved.  

In that respect, I am homesick.  Because home to me is wherever my heart is.  And today, my heart is with each and every person I love and miss across the United States. 

Hellos may one day mean that you will have to say goodbye.  But goodbyes can be sweet, when you realize that the next time you see those faces... it will be much happier than when you last saw them.  

This path of mine can sometimes feel a little lonely.  But then I remember how much love I carry with me wherever I go.  And it is a comforting thought; to know that I can go anywhere and feel right at home.  

So the Golden Ticket is in fact, so much more than a way out: it is also the way back.  And it never ever expires... 

Today:

Southern Comfort Manhattan

1 1/2 oz Southern Comfort

1/2 oz Sweet Vermouth

2 Dashes of Bitters

Stir and strain over rocks 

Garnish with a cherry

Pick Me! Pick Me!

Remember those games we used to play in school at recess?  We would line up across the lawn in a long row and wait anxiously to be called.  We were at the mercy of the person choosing the teams and I never much cared for this routine.  How lame do you have to feel just standing there, waiting to be chosen? Pick Me, Pick Me, Pick Me... Those are the words I would chant under my breath while standing at attention.

I was the name usually chosen midway.  Especially if it was Dodgeball.  The team captains always sized me up and chose the bigger, tougher kids first.  I was just girly enough to be called into question...  Every. Damn. Day.  You're gonna make me just stand there at the mercy of the other team?? Really?? Didn't I prove my athletic abilities at lunch yesterday?? 

Regardless, I would stand and wait for my name to be called just like everyone else.  The worst part was getting into the bottom three.  I'm pretty sure this only happened a few times, when the team captain was my ex boyfriend from third grade.  Catch up everyone, we were in fifth grade now, and he is on some kind of power trip.

So I'd wait...

Day after Day, the process would start all over again; and in one way or another would continue throughout the course of my life. High School dances, Equestrian competitions, college crew races and post grad job hunting all left me with that similar feeling of hoping to be the chosen one.  Pick Me, Pick Me, Pick Me.     


Perhaps that is why so many people fresh out of college are in such a rush to nail down a spouse, a home, a career and a family; the feeling of standing in line, hoping to hear your name called is simply exhausting after so many years.  So you declare yourself team captain and decide that there is no more waiting around.  Hmmmm... I wonder...

As for me, I've rather grown accustomed to repeating the words 'Pick Me' silently to myself over and over again.  As I watch the Emmys, the Academy Awards and various Special Bonus Features on my favorite films or television series, all I can think of is how badly I want to be chosen to play with them.

The actors, screenwriters, producers and directors all run around the set, playing tricks on each other and are having a blast.  They are living the life I have dreamt of since as long as I can remember.  And I just want for them to call my name more than anything.

Pick Me!!!!!! Pick Me!!!!!!!! Pick MEEEE!!!!! 

I want so badly to join their team.  It is what motivates me to keep writing each day.  It is my way of sending a message in a bottle every morning, hoping that one day my name will be called to come out and play.   To write, direct, act, produce... please, one day... pick me!!


Today:

Hollywood Martini

2 oz Vodka
1/2 oz Black Raspberry Liqueur 
Splash of Pineapple Juice
Shake and Strain into a martini glass

Someday...

My favorite Actress

Grace Kelly

Rear Window

My favorite film. 

Change: I Can Roll With It.

Do you know what I've been up to this past week since turning in my bartender keys?? Aside from the obvious answer of blogging and consuming unhealthy amounts of coffee each morning, I've been steadily taking up a collection from my personal supply of spare change.  I sit on the floor each night and a few minutes every morning, sorting, counting and rolling.  Bet you didn't see that coming did you??

Hey, I'm no slouch when it comes to pinching pennies.  In fact, I've always been teased for the way I squirrel away every last cent.  But desperate times call for desperate measures! 

It didn't take long for the relief of leaving my last job to wear off.  The deep sigh of relief has now progressed into shallow breaths of anxiety.  How am I going to pay my bills now? I need to make just a little more money before heading to New York.  What am I going to do?

These are the kinds of thoughts that are probably amplified by the obscene daily dose of caffeine brewing from my kitchen each morning.  If there was ever a weakness of mine, it would have to be coffee.  Of course, if you've been reading along since July, you probably already know this to be true.  

So as I stumbled into the kitchen sometime last week, newly unemployed and plagued with this terrible bug to travel, I poured a cup of comfort in a cup and made an assessment of my situation.  

The dilemma is, I wasn't able to reach my financial goal in the three months I spent behind the bar this summer.  It was a seasonal position, as most jobs are this far up north.  In fact, once Labor Day had come and gone, so too had all the people! 

This place, as aforementioned in my earlier posts, is an idyllic summer retreat.  People travel far and wide to this town to soak in the summer sun and swim in the aqua blue waters of the Great Lakes.  Until late August that is; when the leaves begin to show signs of the impending cold that promises a six month long deep freeze.  

That's when the town's numbers are cut in half and along with it, the job opportunities. That was not a surprise to me.  That was part of the plan.  I had a deadline.  I had an exit; an escape plan of sorts.  

But as we all know too well, things have a way of changing.  Plans change.  Seasons change.  It's okay; change is how I roll.  I've figured out how to handle change much better than I used to... Huh, changes... Change. Roll with the changes. Now there is an idea... Roll some change!

Okay, so it's not exactly going to solve my problem entirely.  But, it has given me something productive to do while I figure out the bigger picture.  

In case you were wondering, yes I am rolling the change myself.  There are machines that sort and count change of course, but they take a huge percentage! And since I've become an amateur coin enthusiast anyway, I really don't mind the tedious process of picking through the piles and periodically checking the dates the coins were minted.  In fact, I would even say that I enjoy it.  

Go ahead and tease me.  I realize that this information only amplifies my super nerd status.  Blogger.  Film Geek.  Roller of spare change and collector of wheat pennies.  

While I'm on a roll (pun intended), I might as well tell you that I have flash cards for all these drink recipes that I carry with me to the bar.  So I guess that makes me a nerdy bartender as well.  

While I still haven't figured out how to solve my financial woes, at least I've made a small dent this past week by accumulating all my spare change.

I can rest easy, knowing that my time away from work hasn't cost me anything yet.  After all, a penny saved is a penny earned.  

I believe now more than ever that change is a good thing. 

Today: 

Cosmopolitan

2 oz Vodka

1/2 oz Cointreau

Splash of Cranberry Juice

Splash of Lime Juice

Shake and strain into a martini glass. 

Don't Rock the Boat

All Summer long I have been completely mesmerized by the sailboats that zig across the bay in the most swift and elegant fashion. When their sails are full and gleam bright white in the sunshine, it is utterly perfect.  The contrast of color against the deep blue water is like something out of a Hemingway novel.  

The sailors who charter these boats are like characters from the novel as well; adorned with classic nautical shoes, striped shirts and crisp pants.  They would often sit at the bar and keep to themselves.  I would always give them their space to sit on their own in what was presumably a state of quiet reflection before heading back to sea.  

I thought of how carefree and easy the whole picture appeared and I imagined that one day, I too would set sail.  In my next life, I will be a great sailor and set out on the high seas... exploring alongside giant grey whales and bottle nose dolphins... 

Hey...WAKE UP.  That ship has sailed! 

You see, there is a reason for the expression "Don't rock the boat." You would think it had something to do with capsizing, but after a few days out on the boat, I have arrived at another conclusion. My theory is that the saying is the result of sea sickness.  Even as I slouch here in bed, awake and typing, all I can feel are the rocking waves.  Up and down. Up and Down.  Did I mention that I am on dry land???

When I close my eyes it is much more intense... The rocking sensation hasn't let up for two days now and I am longing for the moment when I can lay down in bed and not feel like the ship is sinking!  

I bet those sailors weren't in a quiet state of reflection after all!! They were probably trying to concentrate on not falling off the barstool amidst the ceaseless imaginary rocking motion of rolling waves.  

Ugh, I can hardly stand the feeling much longer.  If there is some trick or magic cure to make this feeling go away, I haven't found it yet.  

Perhaps this is why we become so fascinated with one another as human beings.  We all have strengths and weaknesses.  I can't imagine how amazing it must feel to step aboard a great ship and not lose my lunch the next day.  I romanticize the experience because it is one that I am quite sure I won't ever be able to physically endure for prolonged periods of time.  Maybe; maybe not.  I wonder... Could I ever change my nautical ways?

Perhaps people can change if they really set their mind to the task.  I suppose if whatever they are attempting to change for matters enough, it is almost certainly possible.  But honestly, I don't know how much people can actually change.  I would like to think it is possible, but I'm just not sure.  Is it mind over matter? In this case, the obstacle is a physical sickness, which seems to be out of my control. So even if I wanted to change this; could I? 

Nope, I just don't know how much people can change.   

Maybe one day I will attempt to set sail.  But if I ever try, please do me a favor and don't rock the boat.  Trust me, it will be rocking enough all on its own. 

Today:

Classic Sailor's Drink

Rum and Coke

1 oz Sailor Jerry

2 parts Coca Cola

On the rocks in a highball glass

Lime wedge to garnish is optional. 

   

  

Opposing Forces

I've just spent the past five minutes reading an article published by Northwestern University about how a battery works.  You know, the kind that power that pink Energizer Bunny who rolls along, beating his little drum.  We know that the battery charges the Energizer Bunny; but what is charging the battery?

While I knew full well that a battery possesses two opposing forces, a positive end (+) and a negative one (-), I did not however, entirely understand how the opposite ends serve to charge the entire body and produce energy.  It is quite interesting... if you've had at least two cups of coffee before reading.

The article was extremely informative; going on to explain that there are in fact, three sides to a battery. The obvious (+) and (-) sides make up the two opposite ends of the battery of course, while the the third side is actually the middle.  I won't begin to articulate the painstaking process of how a battery works. You're welcome... 

If you ever do want to find out for yourself, I trust that there are far more informative articles online than the one I am writing here.  However, the gist of it actually serves to make a point that I would like to expound upon that promises to be a tad more entertaining than a Science Guy's explanation...

Basically, a battery is powered by the positive and negative thing-a-ma-jiggers that interact within the cell and are trapped in the middle.  That's about as scientific as I can get at 9:30 a.m., pre second cup of coffee.

What got me on this unusual subject you ask?? Well, it has a little something to do with the past two weeks. You see, yesterday I was informed that my perspective in life as shared in my blog,  appears to have taken a somewhat negative turn as of late.  While undoubtedly entertaining, the last week of blog posts have most certainly observed the world around me through less than rosy colored glasses.

So... what gives?  My dad seemed to find the shift of perspective rather amusing; suggesting that I become more and more like him every day.  Hmmmm...  

I thought about that statement all day yesterday.  Was he right? 

While my dad is not exactly Darth Vader, and I sure as hell don't resemble Luke Skywalker, it would seem that I have in fact turned to the dark side. Que the music: dum dum dum dum da daaa dum dum, doot doot do doo doot too doodle doot...  If you aren't familiar with that haunting score than you are forbidden from reading any further and are instructed to go watch Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back immediately.

Okay, the truth is, I may have had an unhealthy dose of (-) charges overloading my circuit these days.  But in all fairness, I was not blind to that phenomenon.  I could sense it too.  And that is when I decided  that it was time to put in my two weeks notice and take a break from life behind the bar.  My default mode is rather positive.  Honestly!

Look back to the posts in early July and you will read super charged (+) positivity.  Life Un-Stuck is a great example of my lightened up, enlightened point of view.

I definitely do not want to turn to the dark side.  And I would argue that a battery needs both opposing forces (+) and (-) to produce a charge within.

I believe that my positivity is simply re-charging as a result of the (-) negative ions floating around me on a regular basis.  The opposing forces of positive and negative perspectives actually serve each other in the long run.

This battery of mine is simply regenerating power, thank you very much! 

Do not fear.  I am certain that life with continue to shift between these two opposing forces for the rest of my days.  I am also certain that I will do my best to hopefully stay charged within my third side: the middle ground.

Until then, just enjoy the ride.  If not super (+) positive, it will be at the very least,
(-) entertaining!

Enjoy this Labor Day weekend and MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU!!!!! 

Always-


Today:

Jedi Mind Trick

1 oz Dark Rum
1 oz Amaretto Almond Liqueur
1 oz Kahlua ® Coffee Liqueur
1 oz Bailey's ® Irish Cream
3 scoops Ice Cream

2 Cherries

Combine all contents (except cherries) in a blender until smooth. Pour into a mug and garnish with cherries.

For this and other recipes Click here!