Unfinished

Editor's note: This article was written a year ago, to the day. The basis of the article remains the same, although characters have changed throughout the past 12 months. The story of self-discovery is an unfinished work, as the eponymous title.  Everything written in italics is a post script in 2016. Like sedimentary rock. At the end of this post, there's a post script (and post post script *INCEPTION*) regarding the hedonistic treadmill that we're all on and it's worth a read. 

In a tangent, I have taken a League 2 team to the Premier League, won the title, cup and Champions' League before setting down the controllers. My intention is not to play again until I buy myself a PlayStation 4 and the latest edition of FIFA. However, as the article goes on, I may lack the resolve to hold myself to such standards.

     "If you had one thing, what would you want?" That's a question I was asked during an interview. Outside of the glib and obvious answer of money, I took a more tactful approach. My house was replete with things unfinished. I had unfinished books, unfinished chores and unfinished projects. So, I told the interviewer, time. I have been working two jobs the past few months (as of 12/12/2016 - just 1 job) and I saw my apartment (2016 - yes, still) and relationships remain untended to. My garden of life was becoming cluttered with weeds. No one likes things unfinished. 

     If you are like me, you start things with the best of intentions. For years, I would play my soccer video game wanting the dynamically change the face of my favorite team in ways that I couldn't do in real life. Things would start out masterfully, almost like former Manchester United manager Sir Alex Ferguson would handle the same situation. I took an objective look at my squad, looked for weaknesses and tried to play to its strengths. I'd transfer list some of my higher valued players and look around for up-and-comers or old stars that could have something to contribute. Then, the wins started rolling in. Success! Then as the seasons rolled on, the ritual became tedious. How many times can I beat the same teams in the league. Then, I was Jose Mourinho - outdone by my own genius. What seems to happen - I don't know because I've never been a professional athlete, but a new manager comes in with a new ethos. They come in with a new tact and depending on the circumstances it could be quite inspiring. Some of the "old guard" may reserve judgement but people open to the message receive it and perform. Then something happens, the players' effort attenuates. Fans notice that players aren't giving their all and they ask for the manager's head. They usually get it.

     Often, I'll go to the bookstore and pick up a book on a topic that I'm interested in. I have books about a myriad of subjects and study guides and other books explaining current events. Since moving to Portland, I have fallen in love with Powell's bookstore, where I use to spend an afternoon leafing through random books in the multiple floors that make up the Burnside location. During the week, I'd listen to a podcast and become interested in a subject. That was the trend….get aroused by an idea, buy the book of the podcast guest, read it with fervor the day that I got it then set it down. Something happens though, either I fully lose interest or I get distracted. It's easier to blame work or getting caught up in a Netflix series or play mindless video games. However, while listening to an old School Sucks podcast, I heard my favorite psychologist, Phillip Zimbardo talk about evil at a TEDtalk. He had a book out called the Time Paradox, so my mission on a particular Saturday was to get a cup of coffee and head to Powell's and get that damn book.  I finished that book that week. Now, it's beginning to come to a head. Maybe it's not time I need...  

     When is it the hardest to work out? Personally, it's after a few days of not working out. Habit and discipline are necessary to complete things. I am finding that I am lacking of discipline.  When I was working out with my friends, I found myself finishing the reps and actually adding more weight. When personal trainers are trying to sell their time, they're doing it to make a living but also tapping into something that a lot of us don't have: discipline. I lacked positive discipline when I was a child. When I was younger, I did most things so I didn't have to hear anyone bitching, chores, school work, etc. While at work, between calls I check social media and look at soccer jerseys. I have the time to hone my craft and gain product knowledge. So, it's pretty evident, how do I become more disciplined?

     First, stop making excuses. Whatever happened in life can't be changed. I can lament on a childhood or relationships lost because those are done, there's nothing more I can do about it. However, those past failures can be used as a motivation to work toward better things. I like Joe Rogan's Be The Hero of Your Movie ad from Onnit. Overweight as a kid, don't wait until January 1st. Stop lifting shitty food in your mouth and start lifting weights. Do you have a job as a temp or looking for a promotion? Put the phone down and cut the bullshit. Want to learn something to make your life better? Turn off the TV and finish that book! Write a summary of the key points on the back of the front cover so if you forget something you can use it as a reference instead of having to reread the thing over again. These are still daily struggles, even after a year writing the initial article. There has been marked improvement. I am more settled in my job since becoming full-time a few months after writing this in 2015. The woman I was dating while writing this has since gone and I have dated. It's those past relationships that I've had help me in my current one. I've acclimated more to my new hometown and I work daily to remain physically fit. this past year, I joined an indoor soccer team and became more involved with jiujitsu. 

Don't ask for an easier life, ask for the strength to handle the challenges. Still true.

Post script: The concept of the hedonistic treadmill is an interesting idea. Introduced by Michael Eysenck, the idea of the hedonistic treadmill is that humans are predisposed by genetics to plateau at a certain level of happiness and the occurrence of novelty only gives it a temporary bounce. This certainly explains my attention span to my video game - get success and stop when it comes to developing a legacy, if that is at all possible within a video game. If you're working out and on a diet, you'll hit a wall after about 6-8 weeks because your body adapts. It also speaks to relationships where the first few months are amorous and no one can do any wrong. Then the first fight happens and people are either looking to bail or to work around it.

Another take away from this past revolution around the sun is that nothing happens in a vacuum. Your success is directionally proportionate with your human connections, barring the one autistic genius that creates a life-changing technology. When I heard Barack Obama's "You Didn't Build That" speech, I was mortified. Of course that entrepreneur made that business! What I neglected to think about was the supporting cast of that entrepreneur. I didn't get the idea to move to Portland, Oregon. That came at the suggestion of my best friend. That same best friend also let me crash on his couch and then told me about multiple job opportunities - most of which that has worked out. My blogging has come through another muse. It was an early release from a shit job and half a bottle of Old Hickory Whisky that made this whole thing come together. Almost 3 years later....

Post post script: This was fun to write. I got to review a lost thought and embellish it with more nuance. It was non-linear. Something like this could be a regular feature in the upcoming year....

Red, White and Booze

     "To Alcohol! The cause of... and solution to... all of life's problems." - Homer Simpson     

     Portland, Oregon had its first snow of the season. The Cascade Mountains see more snow, Mounts Bachelor and Hood being popular ski destinations. 2016 has been fraught with lamentations. Celebrity deaths shocked a lot of people who have macabre Celebrity Death pools. If you had Alan Rickman and David Bowie, you cleaned house with those sleeper picks. As I type this, the Electoral College confirmed Donald J. Trump's 2016 Presidential win. It's like we all went skiing, picking up speed down a black diamond course and kept hitting the moguls until we went ass over tea kettle and lost out balance. We bounce off course, away from the other skiers. Your party is worried and send out ski rescue to look for you. You awaken out of a stupor with a big Saint Bernard licking your face and a mini keg brandy around its neck.

     The beginning of the year starts with a New Year's Eve celebration that leaks into early the next calendar year. For the younger readers, it means waking up with no issue. For grizzled veterans such as myself, it takes a day to recover. More like 4 PM and hair of the dog for me. At the top of the mountain, the moguls aren't that bad - the first one being Valentine's Day. If you're single, it's the reminder that you're single. If you're in a relationship or married, it's much ado about nothing. Overpriced dinners, not being able to afford diamonds or other knick-knacks of feigned sentimentality. No one really hears about fights around the Easter table. The real hilly terrain started in November. This year was especially rough with the highly incendiary rhetoric of partisan politics.  Everyone dreaded the Thanksgiving meal, because we forgot who we actually were, not which political team we think we belong to. Even if you weren't a card-carrying member of a political group, you saw dissenters as enemies; not as people you once cared about who may have had a different outlook on life. You engaged at ever retweet and poorly made Internet memes. I know I've had a few drinks and took to social media to show my righteous indignation.  I don't want to live in a make-believe world, maybe you lot never had a beer or glass of wine and picked up a dagger to fight in the War of the Left/Right paradigm. Let's face it though. We all know of fights that start because with people that have had too much to drink. Alcohol lowers inhibitions which cause us to lose our filter and say things we shouldn't or normally wouldn't. It may escalate to fisticuffs or it may end relationships. However, sometimes, having a beer between aggrieved parties can alleviate the situation. Nary a fan of Obama's politics or policies, you may remember early in his administration, The Beer Summit, where Henry Louis Gates was arrested in front of his home outside of Boston. It was an acrimonious situation wherein both sides of the conversation were heard but not understood. One side cried systemic racism, the other was a lack of understanding and respect for the job of a police officer. Obama decided to deescalate the situation by inviting both parties to the Rose Garden to have a drink and talk it out.

     I hound on it time after time. Some people drink for the sport of it. "What can I tick off my list on Untappd?" "It's Saturday and I have no where to be. Let's piss away a sunny/rainy Saturday either in a bar or on a patio." Drink responsibly and make sure you have a ride home. However, there's a subset of people who drink "against the grain of the liquor" or those who drink as a social anesthetic. While visiting home for Thanksgiving, I invited my mom to my favorite Irish pub for a drink and catching up. When she showed up, I knew she had a few pops before visiting. I was thinking to myself, "Fuck, how bad is it to meet up with your son you haven't seen in nearly two years?" I didn't think I have turned into that much of a bore in that amount of time. At first, I was upset. After thinking it out and with the help of my aunt, maybe she was feeling ashamed or inadequate for essentially being in the same place she's been in since I left - and even before that. Maybe Uncle Jerry is 5 martinis in because his life is in a rut and he doesn't know how or why but those goddamn liberals keep wanting men to use the same bathrooms as his daughter. AND IT'LL BE A GODDAMN COLD DAY IN HELL IF HE ALLOWS THAT TO HAPPEN!!!

     We all think we have the answers, don't we? Opinions based off of facts and if you don't agree, you're a dullard and we don't have time to explain ourselves. I have no idea how difficult it'd be to come out to your parents as a homosexual, but why the dinner table while your sister is passing the lima beans? Get a full meal in you and make sure your laundry is done before you drop the microphone. I'm saying this jokingly, but why not drop some heavy news at the Labor Day party? Mention that Jennifer should never wear white after Labor Day and let that settle in with your mother. Or, even better, we can diffuse bombs before they even blow up! Whether we like it or not, it's those difficult situations that make us better people anyway. More often than not, life is not a Disney movie or a Norman Rockwell painting. We all have our differences, but that's kind of what makes us the same.

     So, the Saint Bernard is here. Cask of brandy around its collar. Take a hit and wait for help to arrive. If you're walking around feeling persecution, realize that most people don't care what your race or sexual orientation is. Most people don't care about how you vote. They've got bills to pay and a family to make happy. I do think that when in distress, most people come to the aid of people who are in actual distress.

If I don't hear from anybody, have a Merry Christmas and New Year. Chances are I'll hack out a piece before the New Year.

Riddle of the Liquor, part 4: Something Blue

     Over the past few weeks, I spent time reviewing the old Victorian-era wedding adage; Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed and now Something Blue.  In "Something Old" I touched on brewerania, old pieces of advertising saved over the years of brewing and marketing. In "Something New" I covered a renewed interest in craft brewing vis-a-vis the bounty of options and styles of beer now available. "Something Borrowed" expanded on "Something New" rehashing the recent history of craft brewing as well as the story of Jack McAuliffe and his brewery, New Albion and how pieces of his brewery became either the physical or mental pieces of other breweries. Now, for the ultimate part of this series: Something Blue.

     Looking back, my first sip of beer was an O.V. or Old Vienna. OV was a sassy beer, even as a 4 year old walking with his mom down a country road. I remember a lot about that time in my life. I was living in what's technically Royalton, NY in an old farm house. I lived there with my mom, my aunt and grandparents before my mom met my former stepfather. It's super easy to look back at times with rose colored glasses. My grandfather had retired from truck driving soon after I was born but my grandmother was still working at a GM radiator plant. The girls lived at home and I felt like we were a close family unit - until my mom met my stepfather. I remember going to dinner on Friday night with the grandparents, stuffing myself on dinner rolls and fried fish.  As I write this, I'm trying to text my aunt to remember the name of the places we went. Oddly enough, some of those places still exist. Restaurants from my neck of the woods in Western New York (as well as other Rust Belt cities) can bank on tradition. We have places like Chef's in Buffalo that which is just a "red sauce" Italian restaurant with no real special flavor, yet has stayed open generation after generation because that's just where the family went for pasta. Living in Portland, Oregon - you'd be hard pressed to find places like that. Not only are the inhabitants relatively new, there's something about being the cutting edge, offering something new at every turn. Barely any tradition at all. However, Murph's back in Middleport would offer simple diner food at an easy price.  As a kid growing up, all I heard about was my grandparents taking my aunt and mom to a local "gin mill" called Brauer's in Pendleton NY. Just as you may expect - it is still operational! I wouldn't be surprised if they barely changed anything about that place. It lived in mythical lore, because my grandparents stopped going when I was a kid. After a few years as a legal drinker, I revisited Brauer's with my aunt and had a drink for Norm & Mary!

     Speaking about generational things, Labatt Blue is one of those things. My grandpa drank Genesee "Genny" beer and Honey Brown (from the same brewery.) I'm not quite certain what my mom drank growing up, O.V. for sure though. Me, though, it was either Molson Canadian or Labatt Blue. My first case of beer pilfered was Molson Canadian. Me and my longtime friend paid a comrade in the take-out portion of the grocery store we worked in to buy cases of that amber hooch. I had to drive the guy all over Lockport because he said he was ex special forces, but worked in subsidized housing and didn't have a car. Whatever. Just needed that sweet drinking juice. This would continue until my 21st birthday where I magically become old enough, as deemed by the State. My first legal drink was a Black and Tan from O'Lacy's in Batavia, NY. To this day, it is my de facto favorite Irish bar, if not favorite place to drink. Mes Que in Buffalo is close to first in my book. Anyway, money being an issue, my new favorite drink became the Labatt Blue, which is a Buffalo staple. Because Buffalo is a den of iniquity, Labatt Blue is the easiest drink to order when you're absolutely shit-faced. Or you order it because of of your draught options are scarce. But it was incredibly easy to slur out "BLOOO" in a large, noisy bar as opposed to, let's say, a Ninkasi Total Domination. A Blue isn't going to tip the scales in drunkness. A Labatt Blue is between 4 and 5% alcohol by volume. It would take an army of Labatt Blues to put you away and that's usually the case.

     Writing this now, I can look back laughingly at the past. At 33, I want to judge my 23 year old self as a drunken, depraved asshole in a perpetual hunt for pussy. Getting loaded up on cheap Labatt Blue and driving to a bar with friends to find someone to hook up with was incredibly irresponsible, but in a weird way, it was incredibly fun. Through all of it, forces greater than myself or just simply the odds didn't catch up with me and I survived those incidents without either venereal disease, a DWI on my criminal record or hurting anyone outside of a few feelings. I'm not an overly religious man nor superstitious, however I would like to think my grandparents are somehow looking after me.

     Through it all, everything is just a learning process. The hope is that through heartbreak and mistakes that we learn something that makes us better people. For the most part, I can draw a line from my 20s and 30s, developmentally. My 20s were a hedonistic era, seeking novelty. New friends, new beers, new girls. Nothing was ever enough. I even enjoyed my Dostoevskian poverty. I reveled in being piss poor, drinking shitty beers and waking up on 3 hours of sleep to grind out 12 hours worth of workday in order to party once again. Being Blue meant being the working class guy I revered my grandfather was.  Ol' Norm. A man's man. A sportsman. A hardworker. Someone you could trust for anything but someone you could also enjoy a few drinks with.  

     Needless to say, I look back at my Blue period fondly. I hope, you the reader, enjoyed this 4 part series. I know that it's not quite how I expected it to turn out, but that's kind of the fun of this website. Over the next few days, I'll let you know the direction of this website. As always, feel free to leave comments here on the website as for what you'd like to see in 2017.

Na Zdrowie, bitches.

Riddle of the Liquor: Part 3, Something Borrowed

     In this Riddle of the Liquor series, I've been exploring the Victorian era wedding tradition of a bride wearing something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue. Three out of those four were easier than others. What do you borrow in brewing or craft beer in general? You buy equipment, you create recipes and you sell product. You really don't borrow anything. While visiting home, I came across a book I didn't finish before I moved to Portland. The Audacity of Hops was recommended reading from a craft beer enthusiast. In that, I came across the stories of how many craft breweries got their start.

     Before reading this book, I knew nothing about Jack McAuliffe and the California connection to the craft beer. I had grown up on the East Coast and came into the craft beer scene relatively late in the game, in 2004. I thought I was ahead of the curve, but after reading about Anchor Steam and Jack McAuliffe making a splash in the late 1960s/early 1970s, I was humbled. Not that I claimed to know a lot of the "ancient" history of craft brewing, I knew of Sierra Nevadas and the Boston Beer Companies of the world, who were "second wave" brewers. Fritz Maytag (of Anchor Steam) and Jack McAuliffe were pioneers, when going up against Big Beer seemed silly and it was illegal to homebrew. If you wanted to start a brewery, you would have to have brewing equipment sent from Germany or make your own. McAuliffe, whose first foray into homebrew was during a tour in Scotland with the US Navy and finding books about homebrewing. It's a story better told in The Audacity of Hops. The brewery he started which he endured 14 hour days and limited resources but rich in brewing knowledge and product quality.  He even created a gravity brewing system, which he then lent to Hopland, now known as Mendocino Brewing when New Albion Brewing folded in 1982. Hell, there are stories of kids finding their uncle's homebrewing equipment and borrowing it to make their own libations.

     As you know, one of the key ingredients to beer is yeast. That being said, yeast is often lent out, sold or even stolen, to be put into beer to give its alcoholic kick and flavor.  Just like yeast that eats sugar, you can say our minds eat knowledge and produce a product.  After the cursory introduction into the world of beer through drinking and tasting, some of us move onto homebrewing. Most kits are bought new, anywhere from a Mr. Beer kit playing with extracts to an intermediate kit from Midwest Supplies where you boil grain to make the wort, a lot of the recipes are borrowed. The American Homebrewer Association has message boards where users share recipes, not trying to make money and occult the information, but to lend knowledge to fledging brewmasters. Not only do we share recipes, sometimes brewers become so good that they start breweries. They hire on people willing to learn the process and apprentice. Sometimes they hire people who went to school for fermentation or other engineering backgrounds and they learn the recipes and become good at what they do. Eventually, things bottleneck and a master brewer can be plucked away from a brewery for the next upstart.

     From reading this book, I learned how hard it was to get funding to start a brewery. Perhaps it's the anti-borrowed part of this article. Just like McAuliffe and other first and second wave brewers, it was impossible to get funding for breweries. Banks refused to lend money to small, start up breweries. The hegemony of Anheuser-Busch stymied growth. Despite craft beers being popular with the consumer,  Anheuser-Busch could strong arm distributors into not carrying new beers. Distribution is super important in the craft beer game.  Since Prohibition and until the homebrew/brewpub legislation was past in the late 1970s/early 1980s; breweries could not sell directly to the consumer - it had to go through a distributor.  Why is there a measly kitchen or food truck near a brewery? Laws, stupid.  We can't have people getting shitfaced without putting a burger in their belly to look like we're trying to keep drunks from getting 110% drunk. Tangent aside, banks wouldn't lend to breweries because they thought that it was all a fad. Big Brew would swallow up subsidiary suds slingers. That is a topic to be pursued in another article however. Needless to say, banks are a little more friendly but that's to say you don't have to worry about a candle because it won't burn down the house - only because of the Beer Pioneers.

     In the depths of capitalism, how much can one lend without being bitten in the hand? In any walk of business, consumers will follow their feels. Tell a good story and have a good product, people will spread the word and eat/drink your product. Borrowing things forces us to become better at what we do. If I'm giving you something that you can use and is surplus to my requirements, it typically means I'm doing bigger and better things. Giving you a tidbit to start your own batch is just good practice, because if you're good it's going to make me better. Entrepreneurs are fighters. Sometimes, it's a friend who will one up a story, which means you have to tell a pretty amazing story to keep ahead of the curve. It's because we lend, we have a plethora of choice in beer. Peach goses. Berliners. IPAs with IBUs over 85. They exist because someone gave something and someone had to go above and beyond to make the new next best.

Na zrowie!