Now, I’m quite partial to a good glass of red wine. Actually, scratch the good and add an extremely and a bottle in there. Yes, I’m extremely partial to a bottle of red wine ($7.99 Onecard specials of a Chilean Merlot don’t taste too horrendous if you concentrate elsewhere as the red elixir meets your tastebuds).
When I was younger (oh mercy me, I’m turning into one of those that looks back fondly at “the good old days” at the ripe old age of 24), I could do a four night bender and carry through with an eight-hour day of work in between. Hangover? What was that? I still arose at 7am even if I’d just set down to slumber at six.
But now hangovers are becoming pretty chummy with myself, though I think it’s a rather one sided friendship. (I.e. I’m not quite so keen). And they just don’t take the following day, oh no; it takes me a good three or four full sun ups and downs to get over the aftermath.
Whilst away on the SS, only having a handful of beers felt fantastic. No ragers or binging on shots (why is tequila always the best idea ever when one wine in?) had my body and mind feeling sensational. When I got back, my first two weekends of double-up nights out rendered me in a dark space (under my duvet with the curtains shut for a nap mid afternoon). I felt complete and utter shit, which spurred the following.
My friend Ashleigh (also a great fan of the wine, but more a Savvy girl) and I have decided to forgo the consumption of alcohol until Decmeber 24, or the infamous Xmas Eve. We started Novmeber 1 and aside from one little slip up (hey, when you’re bought a glass of red it’srude to say no), we are going strong. One weekend in and it looks promising. We are taking off to Whangamata early Saturday to counteract temptation in the form of The Stables.
Unfortunately, timing wise it isn’t the greatest; December looks set for a few reconciliations, staff parties and just simple sunshine Ronas. At a 21st a couple a weeks ago a lovely friend told me to not set hard fast rules (as I stood knee deep in a bowl of rather toxic punch) so should the occassion arise, I may just embrace her advice.
There’s also the secondary reason, compelling enough in itself. Often I use the wondrous sensation of being just a tad tipsy as a blanket of confidence and/or escape. But I don’t want have to rely on a bottle of beer to encourage me to engage in chat with a stranger or a sip of cider to take me away from my worries. While the relaxation effect is fantastic I’m the first to admit, I don’t want to utilise it so it becomes a dependency.
I have an article I brought home from an Indian newspaper that talked about the so-called connection between intoxication and spirituality. It asserted the main aim of human life is to attain transcendence by detaching from feelings of insecurity, jealousy and desire to enable exploration of the subconscious. It claimed that drunkenness allows such an experience for a temporary time. Drinking gives the ability to attach from the drudgery of everyday life, a reprieve from insecurity and a release from the constant pressure to perform. Alcohol causes the submission of the right parietal lobe allowing the drinker to focus on things beyond themself, activating the pleasure pathways of the brain and providing reward or positive reinforcement that leads to feelings of euphoria. But, while being a “spiritual high” it is not self integration. Therefore, it can be said alcohol is a vehicle for instant “spiritual” gratification.
Can see why a wine sounds – and feels – bloody fab.
So! To nip less November (that’s nip less not nipples) and desert dry December (until the 24th, and a potential few exceptions along the way).
An aside: the book writing is coming along rather well.The only writer’s block encountered so far is that of my posture brick I perch on as I type away. And the outfit which brings the inspo? My pale pink rabbit pj pants, cuddly navy dressing gown, pink crotchet Nepalese headband and school teacher specs complete with new New Balance running shoes. (Although more than once after a brief jaunt outside for fresh air, I’ve realised a good hour later I’m rocking the stunner shades and not the specs). Definitely pulling off the look of spinster, especially when a momentary bout of wordlessness threatens to attack and I launch off for a brief go on the swing set. But never fear, loneliness shall never overcome me as Otto the schnauzer joins me in his role as assistant.
Second aside: I have been so unfortunate as to either strain/pull/[other-injurious-word-here] my groin, so should you see me about clutching the fanny area it is not in distaste. (But seriously, it is excruciating. If I complain this much is a simple thigh pull, imagine me in the throes of childbirth).
Aaaaaaand a P.S: Have just made plans for a wild girls night next weekend. This no-alcohol thing is looking a little less alluring.