Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Life lessons: red, red wine.

Saturday night, I pulled out the Casillero Del Diablo wine I bought from Blanchard's. The Cabernet Sauvignon was a good buy - about $10 if I remember correctly, and flavorful without being overwhelming, full-bodied without being punchy, with a light oak background. For my first foray into the world of Chilean wine, I was quite pleased.

So anyway, Saturday night, I'm in bed, reading and drinking a glass of red wine. I guess I fell asleep at some point, but in the throes of some nightmare, I seized while waking up and knocked the glass of red wine off of my bedside table and into my bed. All over my favorite sheets that I've had since freshman year of college.

If that doesn't wake you up fast, I don't know what will.

In a 4 AM stupor, I somehow realized that the best course of action was to get the sheets off of my bed as soon as possible and get them into the washer. I would have liked to let them soak all night, but 30 minutes was the maximum. So I soaked them with Tide, then ran a full washing load a few hours later. I was quite pleased with myself when I pulled the sheets from the machine and they were almost completely free of stains.

I was not so pleased with myself, however, when I glanced into the full-length mirror on my bedroom door on my way to take a shower before work. In case you were not aware, red wine stains your skin, and considering I was laying on my back when the glass spilled all over the bed, I now bore purplish stains that literally covered the entire back side of my body, from my neck to my calves. The shower I took then didn't help, and it took several more to get all of the stains off.

So if you do happen to take an accidental bath in red wine, get any clothes or sheets directly into the washing machine... and remember to at least rinse yourself off.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

This part of my life is called working harder.

In hot pursuit of happiness, I have made a choice that is... there's no other way to say this: ballsy. I hardly even recognize myself because I don't usually do things this ballsy. Inspired by the ballsy nature of the decision, I very nearly - on the spot - called a guy in whom I am interested to ask him out. I was hindered by the fact that I deleted his phone number from my phone some weeks ago.

So, what is this happiness I am pursuing? How do I personally define it? Happiness is different for everyone, I think. If I'm going to be putting serious effort into capturing it, making it mine, I sure as hell had better know what it looks and feels like, so I have a target. It looks like madness, with a method, always. It feels like my heart swelling with all things good in appropriate amounts. It is a pancake breakfast filled with laughter with my roommates. It is working hard, but not excessively. It is a smile that shows in my eyes. It is a cute dog on a leash that I hold. It is waves crashing on a beach while I watch from the warm sand. It is a hot cup of quality coffee early in the day. It is a college degree in my hands. It is enough money in my bank account so that I don't have to worry too much about bills. It is a job I enjoy that puts that money in my bank account. It is reaching my dreams in this lifetime. It is me, in Texas. It is a hug from my mother.

How do I get there from here? Well, to start, I need to be saving money. A lot of it. Money doesn't buy you happiness, but unfortunately, happiness does cost money. College degrees aren't cheap, and neither is moving across the country. Can I make it in Boston? Yes. I am not homeless, not hungry, and not insane. Do I want to be here that much longer? No. I am a Texan to the core, and it's difficult for me to be in a place like this. I don't know how long it will take me to get out of here - it could be 9 months, it could be a couple of years - but this decision should accelerate the process.

This is going to be the hardest I've ever worked. Harder than this past fall, when I averaged 60-65 hours a week. Harder than almost two years ago, when I averaged 75-80 hours a week. Harder than full-time school on top of full-time work. This is full-time work, on top of full-time work, with intensive training. In order to excel at both places, I will be doing homework and research whenever I'm not at work. Oh, and I still have to eat, sleep, wash my clothes, and run errands.

If this all goes through, and I hope it does, I have a couple of weeks to get organized. This basically means that I need to get my eating habits under control - so actually eating every now and then - and get my room together, organized, clean. Get my bed put together. Get my desk properly set up to accommodate plenty of books, papers, and whatever else applies. I need to cultivate habits to encourage consistent patterns of taking good care of myself without having the time to think about it. I need to set a schedule for myself. I need to actually use the planner I got.

I do love to work hard. When I don't take good care of myself, I can't work hard. I'm kind of taking a big risk here. It's a big investment of time and energy. I'm going to have to work hard just to set myself up for success well enough so that I can get up every day to bust my own ass. So I guess this part of my life is called working harder.