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. 

Divided We Stand

I must say, last night's presidential address from the White House couldn't have come at a worse time.  And from what I gathered from his speech, it would seem as though that is the overwhelming consensus of our nation.  On the eve of the anniversary of the terrorist attacks that occurred over a decade ago, killing so many Americans, I couldn't help but sit and watch the address and cringe at the thought of yet another war.  

No matter which side of the debate you stand, you can't help but feel the weight of the September 2001 attacks.  It is as if the ashes and dust from the fallen two towers still waft and linger in the air: it just hasn't settled yet.  

For a moment, I almost imagined that I was seemingly the only one still greatly affected by that horrifying day.  How naive. 

I walked into a small market yesterday afternoon and overheard a few employees gathered around the register reminiscing the day that our country changed forever.  As is almost a cliche anymore, they asked one another a very common question;"Where were you?"  They each had a different story, but each person remembered that morning with absolute precision and clarity.  

And I couldn't help but remember too.  

I think what is so unfortunate all these years later, aside from the glaringly obvious loss of so many human beings no matter their nationality, is that we cannot seem to move past the climate of terror at home and abroad.  

I remember the thousands of posters and flags that were proudly displayed almost instantaneously after 9/11 and how so many boasted a common slogan of patriotism: 'United We Stand'. 

How far from that sentiment we are today.  We are a nation fiercely divided.  And as much as we bicker amongst ourselves and split hairs over the future of our country, it seems more apparent than ever before that we are at war, with each other.  

I really don't like to dwell on the negative.  In fact, most of the time I am hard pressed against taking jabs at the "other side."  I'm just not a fan of political satire, because at the heart of almost everything comical in life, is a deeply rooted undercurrent of heartbreak and disjointed, opposing ideals.  Kind of like a comedian who pokes fun at the most depressing aspects of humanity.  We are divided.  

And I am not sure how to begin working to close that divide.  I may not agree with everything that is happening in our country, but who is??? Can everyone be satisfied? When has it ever been possible to make everyone happy?? 

Perhaps the only thing we can agree on, is that we aren't over what happened on this day in Manhattan, twelve years ago. I do not want to go backwards.  That is the honest truth. 

I know it may be wishful thinking, but I certainly do not want our country to enter into yet another war.  At the same time, I am horrified at the thought of what other human beings are enduring abroad.  

I don't have the answers, and I will not pretend to fully understand the various negative implications on either side of the debate, or for that matter, even the positive ones.  

But I do understand enough about the art of war to know that a divided front is much easier to manipulate and attack than a united one.  We are not standing together.  At least we can agree on that.  

It is as though we are in the greatest identity crisis of our time.  Who are 'Americans' anymore?? What do we stand for? How brave are we? Is corrupt intent of greed operating under a mask of 'bravery'?  Are we the world's policemen?  Do we want that job? 

We cannot seem to agree on any of those answers.  And yet, we must continue to live our lives.  We may have just so happened to have been born a U.S. citizen... But is citizenship born or made?  Both perhaps?? 

I'm sad today.  

I'm sad because I feel at odds politically with some of the people I love and admire the most; my friends and family.  Is that what makes our country weak or unique?  Hmmm, I just don't know anymore. 

I am slow to want to define myself on this issue because I do not see a clear picture on either side.  I do not see positive or constructive resolve either way the political wind is blowing.  

I just see my friends and fellow citizens at odds.  And all I can be sure of is that we are very far from where I hoped we would be.  

Today, I just hope that while we "Never Forget" what happened, or what could happen, I hope we also never forget how fortunate we are to simply be alive.  No matter what country you call home.  No matter where you live, what you do, who you imagine yourself to be; if your stomach is full today and you are able to mindlessly enjoy the warmth of a cup of coffee, well then we can agree that life is pretty good. 

Let's please, practice compassion and an act of kindness on this day, so that we may stand united, if only from that shared sentiment and action.  

Today:

Red, White, Blue

1/2 oz Grenadine

1/2 oz Peach Schnapps or Vodka

1/2 oz Blue Curacao

Layered in a shot glass! 

Salute and shoot! 

Live a Little

You know how people have bucket lists; all the things to see and do before you die?  I often wonder how mine would compare to someone else's.  Would it seem unrealistic or crazy?  Probably not.  I guess to my way of thinking, it is really quite simple.  I don't really have items to check off that are super dangerous or exotic.  In fact, you might even say it was kind of... a short list.

A short bucket list.  Huh.  Well I suppose that is the good news...  Shouldn't be too difficult to accomplish, right?  Eh, wrong! 

I may not have any desire to climb Everest, parachute from a plane, or anything extreme like that, but I do want to live a little.  

The older I get, the more I realize how difficult it is to accomplish all the things you imagined for your life, when you were young.  And although I am not old per se, I am old enough to understand that my bucket list may be a lot more difficult to execute than I had initially anticipated.  

Not every item on the list is something solely within my own power to procure.  Having a family for instance; it all sounds pretty simple, but it isn't something totally in my power or control.  Or is it?  You know, I will have to cycle back around to that one later.

In any case, having a basic outline of things you wish to see, do, experience or accomplish in your life is a good thing.  Checking those things off, is even better. 

In some ways, it's deflating to recognize how little I have actually done thus far to check off this list.  The Seven Wonders of the World for instance, may take years to see.  Seven widely distant, far off places; all requiring time, money and a current passport (if you want to see them all).  Anyway, you get the picture. 

After much consideration, I have made a minor tweak to my list.  I simply challenge myself to experience life (a little) outside of my comfort zone.  You know; try eating weird things with squishy textures, stay out walking with friends until sunrise, wear red lipstick like a fearless fashionista, audition for a broadway play, paint a portrait in the gardens of Versailles or Central Park, eat gelato on the back of a speeding scooter through Rome, or maybe even go on a blind date... 

I think it's time to savor the sweetness of life.  I've been a little scared.  I've been cautious. Because I have already fell on my face financially and romantically a few times this past decade, this shouldn't be too difficult a task.  

Life is for the living.  And I do believe that while we certainly cannot control much, we can do what is within our power to expand our horizons and push our own perceived limitations.  I think it's time to get out there and live life... if only just a little.

There's no time like the present.

Today:

Dirty Gin Martini (one of my favorites)

2 1/2 oz Hendricks Gin
Splash of Olive Juice
Swirl and strain into a chilled martini glass
Garnish with three olives.

Bucket List: Live in an Airstream

Fearlessly Eat Exotic/Squishy Foods

Have a little fun...

  

(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. 

The Compassion Complex

It is so strange; sitting here today in the comfort of a quiet home and an otherwise simple life.  My worries, relatively speaking, are quite small and insignificant.  I look around, and I see abundance.  When I read the news, I see despair.

It is difficult to express the impact those images have on my heart.  The pain I feel for those in need, who are suffering and fighting to survive, cannot adequately be surmised.  But I can assure you, it is a heartbreak unlike any other.

The long lines of refugees wandering through the harsh desert in search of some shelter and safety is an image that I awoke to this morning.  They walk along, carrying very few belongings.  Most women hold the hands of their small children who are sprayed and whipped by the blowing sands.  How can I not weep at the sight?

They are homeless.  They are terrified.  They are human beings.  And I am never so ignorant to think for one second that their fate couldn't someday be ours too.

'Us' and 'them.'  'They' and 'we.'  'You' and 'I.'  I beg for all of us to foster acceptance and compassion. We are only separated by geography.  We have different cultures of course, and perhaps we pray much differently from one another.  But your faith is not much different than mine; when it is the only thing getting you through the otherwise sleepless night. 

I never really know what I will write about each day.  It isn't something overly planned or thought out.  But no matter what it happens to be about from day to day, there is some common thread; they are some basic daily offerings of who I am and how I perceive the world around me.

I love life.  Even on the worst days, I genuinely love and appreciate my life.  And even on the worst days, I appreciate yours too.

Sometimes I fear that I am losing that sensitivity.  The world is home to the corrupt as well as the compassionate.  And while it would be nice to hear of all the wonderful acts of generosity and kindness that are surely operating in various parts of the world on a daily basis, I wonder if it would make a difference?

The horrific acts of terror abroad, as well as the grotesque violence in our own country, all have a way of overshadowing the most heroic of efforts.  While we [Americans] may judge the chaos of warfare abroad, I wonder how it is that our own country can be so overly wrought with senseless acts of violence, rape and murder.  And for what?? What cause, other than some twisted pleasure or selfishness could these mongrels have? I've said it before and I will say it again: hate begets hate.  But violence doesn't necessarily have to beget violence.  There is always a choice.  

We are indeed a nation of plenty, and with that, it seems that there are some barriers as to how we relate to one another; whether in a foreign land, or the neighboring state.

Thank God, I don't understand the nature of killing.  I don't understand how more killing, could improve any situation.  But perhaps that is why I am not at the table making those types of decisions.

But it doesn't mean that I have to be immune to it either.

I'm sure by tomorrow, I shall resume my otherwise comical, insightful, quirky hopes and diatribes about my own daily pursuit of all that I desire for my time here on earth.  Wait a second... this is still an essay serving that aim. 

Compassion serves the dream.  

If I ever wake up one day and find myself too numb to shed a tear at the sight of mass graves in a foreign country, then I will be truly ashamed.  To feel sorrow, only if it is happening directly to ourselves, is a tragic loss of empathy and compassion.

It is important to strike a balance in life; think of it as the Compassion Complex.  You cannot get so affected that you stop living your life.  But immunity and numbness are not compassionate either. To those who are suffering: I am not immune to your pain.  I am so sorry for all that you are faced with today.

I recognize that this life is a gift and with that comes an obligation to honor it; getting up each day and living life to the fullest in the face of despair. That is what I will continue to do.  Press on.  The fact that I have been so blessed to only write about what I see, and not actually be stranded in the desert, means that I owe it to the very breath of life to keep on believing, dreaming and living each day with gratitude and courage.

And one day, perhaps in some unexpected way, I too could have changed the world for the better.  To have shed compassion and hope: I couldn't ask for much greater purpose than that.


Today:

White Russian

1 oz Vodka
1/2 oz Kahlua
Splash of Cream
On the Rocks