Professional Mixologist

I'm an -ologist, as in a mixologist. Not just a mixologist, a professional mixologist. Around 6:30 pm Friday evening I passed my written and speed test and officially became a mixologist. I even received a diploma. Now it's decision time. What to do with my new skill? Where to work? How many days a week? Decisions...decisions...decisions. I'm pretty excited about the possibility of working a little part time job as a bartender. I think I'd make a pretty good bartender in the right place. I'm glad the course is over. I can leave work and go home. I don't have to detour and spend an additional 4 hours in Arlington and then come home between 11pm or midnight. I'll have to get a little familiar with some drinks that weren't required for class but were given to us in supplemental handouts...ie red headed slut.

So much for a recharge

It was my plan this past weekend to do absolutely nothing. Sadly, I showered but I did avoid brushing my teeth. They felt very gross. I played hours of video games and watched plenty of shows and movies. I made the morning run to Starbucks and a Saturday night run to India Palace (yum!) Unfortunately, I'm still tired and worn out. So what if I traveled the galaxy, fought off the Empire and revived the Washington Huskies football program. I never left the house. Why am I so tired? I still get the same amount of sleep even though I'm going to bed at midnight instead of 11. I get up at 6 instead of 5. I suppose the 4 hours I spend in bartending class is draining my energy/brain power and messing up my eating schedule. I basically get up, go to work, leave work, go to class, leave class, go home, eat, sleep, wake up and go through the same thing again and again. I dream about making drinks and wake up thinking about what I do with rum, triple sec and juice. Bartending school might be a whole helluva lot of fun, I'll be glad when it's over. I can go back to my normal routine. I think this next weekend, I'm sleeping more. It'll probably do nothing to help and even may make things worse but I will have spent the past two weeks dreaming and thinking about shooters, cocktails, highballs, specialty drinks and lord knows what else and I just want to dream about something else.

On a side note, I think I might try this bartending thing. I don't want this knowledge that I've gained to go to waste. It may not be my money that went towards this class but why not use this as an opportunity to earn a little extra even though I really don't have to. Hmm, an upgraded home theater sporting a projection tv. A larger tv in the game room to go with a new xbos 360 perhaps. But then reality sets in and I'll be paying someone to finish the stupid flooring project my wife and I started in January. Oh an someone will need to be paid for fixing a leaky roof. Painting is not a problem nor is putting up shelves, blinds, curtains, pictures or other wall decorations. Just need the floor in place to move along with the housing upgrades. The cool technology gadgets will just have to wait.

Mixology 101

I'm uber excited about my new little adventure. I just started my 40 hour professional bartending course at, you guessed it, The Professional Bartending School in Arlington. It's a serious chunk of time (4 hours a day), especially after a full day of work but it's a whole lot of fun. My brain is working overtime trying to remember 24 different drinks that I learned in one night. I think I've got them down so bring on another batch of drinks.

I really have no idea what I'll do with this new skill. I'm just excited about learning all sorts of drinks and how they are made. One short fall, I have no clue what these drinks taste like because we use colored water. Boooooooooooo! Makes sense because alcohol is expensive and how could anyone learn if they're drunk.

Soon I'll know what to do with those two bottles of vodka and bourbon and they actually might taste good too! Apparently vodka mixes well with everything but I'm too chicken to test that theory. I know why it's called a screwdriver. I also now know that the names of these drinks actually mean something and certain words have meaning. A sloe (yes, its spelled like that for a reason) comfortable screw against the wall has all the ingreidients listed in the name. Sloe=sloe gin, comfortable=southern comfort, screw=orange juice and wall=Galliano (a licorice and vanilla taste, which supposedly tastes nasty). You can even take out screw and insert doggy style which is grapefruit juice. I learned what's in a spicy bloody mary and I'll be skipping that drink. Oh, and I know the name for a free shot at the bar. However, I'd advise against ever really ordering it. Well, it's off to class. Hooray bartending!

Missing that little space

I really miss that little space I called a bedroom when I was growing up. It was my personal safe haven. I'd play my music and write in my notebooks. I even had the glow in the dark stars all over my ceiling and two stuck on the ceiling fan. I could turn off the lights, stare at the fake me out stars and dream away.

Unfortunately, I don't have that kind of space in our house. The game room is too distracting and crowded. The living room is too big and open. The office is under construction. The spare bedroom might work and even the master bedroom might work. I just don't feel the creative energies in those rooms. In fact, I really don't sense them anywhere in the house. Poop on the creative energies. Why are you so hard to find?

I never seemed to have this creative problem back in my youth. I was never that distracted by television, video games, movies, sports or anything else that I can't think of right now. I always found the time to write. One reason could be that writing was an escape for me and I don't need that escape now. I love to write but that love hasn't produced anything in a long time. For the first time, I've cooked up a complete story. I know exactly where the story begins and ends. I know my cast of characters and what awaits them. I've played the story out in my head and reworked it several times. Now I just need a gadget that can take my thoughts and put them in a notebook or a word document. I could just shut the hell up and stop whining about a "comfort" space. I'm not scared of writing. I never have been. This is the easiest form of communication for me. I wish I could write to everyone and never speak a word. I hate talking, especially verbal conversation.

My nickname during my brief stint on the high school wrestling team was "mute." I didn't feel the need to speak to anyone. I was there to wrestle and that's all I wanted to do. I didn't want anything to do with anyone of the team. I didn't particularly like them even though I knew most of them from my days on the Jr High team.

At work, I prefer emails. I really don't like picking up the phone and talking. I only do it because I have to and its not that terrible. I simply prefer email.

I feel like I missing something in my life and it's that little space where I feel comfortable enough to write and eager to get back to that space when I have to leave for whatever reason. Of course, it will all have to wait for two more weeks. I'll be extremely busy with bartending school. Thanks to my job, I'm going to bartending school which will eat up my nights for the next two weeks. I have this feeling I won't be in the mood to do anything productive on the weekends. However, I do see myself writing furiously, listening to music and sitting in the bedroom. Hmmm, maybe it's a vision of the future.