Clarity25 has tagged me yet again! And then she laughed wholeheartedly while apologizing half-heartedly! What's up with that girl?
She will regret asking me the first question. I doubt very many DiaryLanders will be fascinated with it. The rest of the answers, with one exception, are very short. Keep in mind as you read "Ten Years Ago" that I am mostly a pacifist; however, I am totally fascinated with stories of survival against overwhelming odds.
Ten years ago:
Intro:
After stumbling onto some 1940s newspaper stories about a young World War II naval officer from South Dakota (a graduate of Annapolis Naval Academy), I simply had to learn more about him and the 82 men with whom he served. My college study habits would serve me well. These men were all stationed in the doomed Philippines when the war began in December 1941. After being attacked repeatedly for months, American and Filipino forces surrendered in April and May 1942, due to severe starvation. Then began almost four years of humiliation, torture and death in Japanese POW camps and on POW ships.
The young officer from South Dakota was among an incredibly lucky few (50 out of 15,000) to be selected for evacuation aboard one of two seaplanes shortly before the surrender. However, his seaplane was damaged while still behind enemy lines on Mindanao. The passengers were stranded. Most were forced to surrender. He chose not to do so. Instead, he tried to sail 1,500 miles to Australia in a native boat. After going only 200 miles with another officer, they were captured and executed (July 1942). He was only 26. You can barely imagine my disappointment when I learned of his fate (after I had done so much reading and research). I felt as if I had gotten to know this man and his family through those articles. I had been praying for his safe return (although 52 years too late).
Roughly half of the 83 men in the squadron became POWs. About a quarter escaped to Australia. Most of the remainder hid in the jungles of Mindanao and fought as guerrillas until the Americans returned almost three years later. From 1994 through 1996, I wrote and phoned various historical archives around the country; I read a vast number of books and military documents; I made contact with 13 of the surviving veterans of the squadron (man, was it ever hard finding them).
My Point: At about this time in 1995, I found the 89-year-old sister of the South Dakota officer (like finding a needle in the universe). Amazingly, I had lived in the same town of 1,000 people with her in 1994 and had not known it! When I returned to meet her, I discovered that she had Alzheimers. In her only lucid comment, she told me where her son lived. I contacted him, and he gave me the address of the man's only surviving brother. So, in 1995 I hopped on a Greyhound Bus (that LAST TIME I will EVER make that mistake again!!!) and went to San Marcos, CA, a suburb of San Diego, to meet him. He and his wife invited me to stay with them for a few days of research. Coincidentally, the top-ranking enlisted man on the South Dakota officer's boat lived in nearby Coronado. He, too, invited me to stay with him and his wife. I introduced the brother and the former navy man to one another over lunch at an upscale restaurant in Coronado. It soon turned into one of those wonderful moments you only get to see on a PBS documentary. And I had been the instigator of it all! I couldn't believe what I had accomplished.
Regrettably, I soon learned why most published authors are independently wealthy before they write their books. I didn't have the money to continue doing my research, and I was nowhere near the end; so, in order to get the money, I had to go back to work. Once I had a job again, I didn't have the time to do the research anymore; and the vicious cycle began.
Aren't you glad you tagged me, Clarity? :-)
Five years ago:
I had been working for two years as the Network Administrator and Computer Lab Manager at a middle school here in western Nebraska (all Macs, of course). I was soon to be promoted to handling duties at the high school also. I was so busy all the time that I had forgotten what it felt like to be free. I certainly no longer had time for the research mentioned above.
One year ago:
I had just returned to Nebraska from living on that "desolate" ranch in Wyoming. I was still burdened by certain responsibilities pertaining to that ranch (from which DiaryLand was initially my only "escape"). Not long before I had moved to that ranch, severe budget cuts (and a very slimy, sleazy and unbelievably unqualified superintendent) caused me to be laid off from my Network Administrator's job (for which, however, I was secretly grateful). Some day soon, I'll have to tell you what the entire staff of the middle school and half the staff of the high school did regarding that sleazy super's decision...
Yesterday:
Aside from writing my last diary entry, absolutely nothing happened that is worth remembering. I had a headache yesterday morning from having drank those three sixteen-ounce beers the night before without eating any supper (I forgot to eat).
Today:
Do I really have to answer these embarrassing questions? Among other things, I wrote a long email and am filling out this survey. I am enjoying the gorgeous temperature of 65 degrees (late afternoon) after having suffered through two or more weeks of 100-plus-degree temperatures with minimal air conditioning.
Tomorrow:
I don't have a clue. I should quit being so picky about the sort of job I want, and where I want it to be located, and just take a low-wage affair in this less-than-appealing town. Sounds horrible.
Five snacks I enjoy:
1) Ice cream sprinkled with dry-roasted peanuts and crushed Butterfinger Candy Bar.
2) Peanut butter cookies.
3) Dakota Style Potato Chips, made near Clark, SD (no other potato chip comes close).
4) Excellent homemade hamburger beef jerky (sorry, you vegetarians).
5) Smoked oysters.
Question for Clarity on her 5th snack choice: What if you are a few miles off the Swedish coast and cross a few feet over into Finnish waters. Do the fish there not taste as good? ;-)
Five bands where I know the lyrics to most of their songs:
I don't mean to wiggle out of answering this part (nor do I mean to brag), but I know the lyrics to so many songs by so many groups that I wouldn't know where to begin.
Five things I would do with $100,000,000.00:
My vindictive, justice-driven side is displayed, for all the world to see, in one of these answers. Forgive me, please. I'm only human.
1) Continue the research on the veterans I mentioned above (including doing some heavy research in Washington, DC).
2) Start businesses for people in my home towns in South Dakota (which they would own entirely). I would do this in order to revitalize those towns.
3) Give to family, of course.
4) Give to certain charities, of course (obligatory answer).
5) Offer the historical society in my home county in South Dakota something like $500,000 to $1,000,000...., but ONLY if they remove the name of a fraud from the several-hundred-thousand-dollar granite veterans' memorial in front of their museum (and, NO, I don't mean a veteran's name). Six months before said memorial was built, that fraud visited with me during a big Christmas party in a local restaurant (I didn't know he was a cheating fraud yet). At the time, I was preparing to return to college in Nebraska to begin my student-teaching semester (after being out of school for three years). He asked me if I had any ideas on how the proposed veterans' memorial should look. I thought for a while and drew my favorite design on a napkin and handed it to him. It was a design that I had been doodling all my life. I thought it would accentuate the new giant flag pole very nicely. I went away to college the day after the Christmas dinner. When I returned six months later, the memorial was completed, and there, etched into one of the four $80,000 sections of that granite memorial was that man's name (along with his wife's name) as its designers. That was the day I stopped trusting most people. I told many residents of the county what had happened, and they all said, "We could have warned you about him." I asked, "Then why didn't you!!!??" The members of the historical society pulled a coup a year later and nominated me to replace the fraud as president of the historical society, a position I would normally never have taken (because I hate being a member of anything). It was sort of satisfying watching him squirm very uncomfortably due to my presence in that room, but not satisfying enough. I'm sure he suspected that I had told everyone what he had done.
If the future members of the historical society want my giant donation, then they will take that fraud's name off of the memorial and replace it, some day, with some deserving veterans' name (certainly not my name). If they refuse to take that name off of it, then they can live with the knowledge that they were "this close" to being wealthy and blew it.
After what you've just read, you may be amazed to learn that I don't think about that "theft" most of the time. I only think about it deep in the night sometimes (or after I've visited the museum again). I then begin to worry that no one will know the truth fifty or one hundred years from now, and that really bothers me.
I was there two weeks ago, and completely forgot to take a digital picture of the memorial to replace the one blurry copy I presently have. You can see that blurry copy by clicking here: Veteran's Memorial [The link has been updated.]. It's hard to make out the design, but I try to describe its design below the picture.
Five locations I'd like to run away to:
1. Australia (I've wanted to move there ever since I was a little kid).
2. Greece (I've always loved islands, and the Greek islands are just too perfect).
3. Czech Republic (to do family history research).
4. Italy (Some of my favorite European movies, especially Il Postino, make me want to go to there.
5. Alaska (warmer southern parts).
Five things I like doing:
1. Writing
2. Taking pictures (either for myself, for National Geographic or for Playboy :-) [I'm kidding.] Actually, Playboy models are so coated with makeup and suntan oil that they are totally fake in my opinion; but you get the idea).
3. Sitting on a lonely hill in the middle of nowhere with someone I love.
4. Doing historical research (reconnecting the pieces of a long-forgotten mystery).
5. Darn that Clarity! If I put "sex" here (which I was going to do!), it will look like I am just copying her; if I leave it out, especially now that it has been mentioned by someone else -- her, I will look like a... a... What would I look like? Well, I'm not about to find out, so: Sex.
Five things I'd never wear:
This isn't my sort of section, so I will do the best I can.
1. An earring (well, I guess I wore some at a Halloween party in 1989, which I will forever regret, because it gave one guy the wrong idea about me).
2. baggy gangland jeans (or gangland anything).
3. Men's Olympic-style skimpy swimming suit (I mistakenly bought one of those once; never wore it outside of my bedroom after I saw it on me; how on earth do those swimmers manage to make "themselves" look..., um..., concealed?).
4. a training bra.
5. white gloves.
Five TV shows I like:
1. Desperate Housewives.
2. Grey's Anatomy.
3. The Simpsons.
4. Gilmore Girls (don't give me any grief! It's funny! Or, at least it used to be funny).
5. Everwood (an extremely well done program).
If I were to name shows from a few years ago, the list would be five times as long as it is now.
Five famous people I'd really like to meet:
I'm not into famous people at all.
1. Steven Spielberg (to convince him to produce the World War II story mentioned earlier).
2. Shania Twain (although I don't like country music, I do like one of her songs, and she has a heck of a personality, if I can judge her by her appearance on The Larry King Show a couple of months ago).
3. Jewel (maybe not so much now as I did a couple of years ago; another seemingly great personality).
4. I cannot think of anyone else.
Five biggest joys at the moment:
You cannot be serious! I'll give it my best shot.
1. That I am no longer burdened with certain responsibilities (sort of involving that ranch) that have been alluded to in the past. The sense of "freedom" (for lack of a better word) is just wonderful.
2. That the temperature is bearable for the first time in weeks.
3. That I am actually in constant touch (or the next thing to it) with a bunch of the nicest diarists. Just one year ago, I could never have imagined such a thing. It sort of makes you wish the world was a smaller place.
Five favorite 'toys':
I don't really have favorite things (such as toys) anymore, and I'm not obsessed with the following, but...
1. Both of my computers, Power Mac and PowerBook (really! I'm not obsessed with them).
2. My digital camera.
3. My scanner.
4. My video camera (although I need to upgrade to digital video, so I can take clearer shots of the inside of this sensory deprivation tank that I inhabit).
5. This is a struggle... I'm not much of a materialist, so I give up.
I tag the following and hope they had as much "fun" filling this thing out as I did: katm_6, f-girl, nikib and whereibgin (even though "where's" mind is definitely on other matters right now; maybe this will be a pleasant diversion for her).
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Monday, July 25, 2005
In-Depth Analysis of Inebriation
Sunday, July 24, 2005, 11:25 PM, Mountain Time
[There is a 2020 update at the end.]
I just drank three 16-ounce beers, and barely felt a twinge of silliness (still, it was more than the usual twinge, though). That is very annoying.
Luckily, I still have a fraction of that twinge in me as I write this entry.
There are three possible reasons for my immunity to alcohol:
1.) I'm tough as nails. No! Really!
2.) I didn't (yes, past tense) want to be laughed at.
3.) I didn't (yes, past tense) want to get caught.
I think the first choice is probably the correct choice, but the other two are worthy of some consideration.
Not Wanting to Be Laughed At
I never touched alcohol until the summer before my senior year in high school. Until that time, I had not been trying to be a saint. I just didn't hang out with the wrong crowd, and, furthermore, I had had no need or desire for alcohol. As a kid, I seemed to have been still half crocked from whatever moonshine I had drank in my last life on this earth. It didn't take much to entertain me in those days, and I seemed always to be laughing about something (although there were exceptions).
When I finally returned to my old home town in South Dakota the summer before my senior year (a story in itself), I promised myself that I was finally going to become a part of the crowd. I did this for my sake (or rather for the sake of my social life), not because I was caving in to any peer pressure (being incredibly stubborn, I never caved in to peer pressure, and they had long ago given up on trying to pressure me). In late July or early August, someone hired a rock band to entertain us at a keg party (kegger) in an obscure pasture by the creek a few miles west of town. It was an evening straight out of a Hollywood movie. If I remember correctly, I had five beers that evening, and I don't remember feeling drunk. I just remember feeling incredibly athletic and coordinated. I proved it by quickly climbing, hands free, up the corral and some other woodwork leading into the loft of my friends' giant barn. Even though I was a beginning drinker, I didn't have a hangover, or even a minor headache, the next morning. The lack of a hangover probably gave me the wrong idea about drinking to excess.
I drank again two months later (in September) at another kegger in the country (these were major affairs, with people showing up from seemingly everywhere). I drank so much that evening that I bravely, yet staggeringly, went hand in hand with a pretty girl straight into the back seat of my friend's car (with another friend's younger sister in the front seat letting me know how offended she was --- normally I would have cared). This girl had been trying to get my attention for a few weeks and I had not been brave enough to talk to her until I was thoroughly drunk and she was thoroughly drunker. Within three minutes of landing in the back seat, a girlfriend of my female companion knocked on the car window and told her it was time to go. Little did my companion's busybody "chaperone" know, but my companion (her friend) was far more "worldly" than I was. She was rescuing the wrong person. Needless to say, I was a bit unhappy.
Soon thereafter I threw up, and I didn't stop throwing up until about noon the next day. I swore I would never drink again.
Two months later (late November), I attended the girls' basketball team "kegger" (celebrating the end of the basketball season). Since three-fourths of the girls on the team were very appealing, there was no way I was going to miss that one. A number of my classmates, who had never seen me in a drunken condition, and who remembered that I had previously been far too innocent, said loudly, "We want to see 'younameit' drunk!" I happily obliged them. As soon as I had achieved drunkenness, I informed them of that fact, and they were not impressed. They politely pushed me away, not liking my uninhibited silliness.
The liars! The hypocrites!
However, I still had a blast visiting and stumbling around with one or two of the drunken girls on the team (no back seats this time, darn it); but my classmates' snubbing of me, because I was too drunk and silly, bothered me a lot, especially since they had specifically wanted to see me drunk (just not silly).
That night and the next morning, I did the requisite throwing up. What a nightmare it was, having to get up long before dawn to go to my dishwashing job at the local restaurant (all that scalding hot water, dirty, smelly plates, leftover scraps; the smells of frying bacon, sausage, eggs, etc.; I get nauseous just remembering it).
I did not drink again until I attended my high-school graduation party six months later (I had been at the "kegger" after my prom, but I didn't touch the stuff). Another random few of my classmates expressed an interest in seeing me drunk. Once again, I was happy to oblige, and once again I was too silly. As they gently nudged me away from them, they said, "Thaaaat's nice, 'younameit.' Naturally, I got sick again that night, but it was the last time I did so for several years. I had finally learned my lesson about drinking too much.
I had also learned my lesson about showing my drunkenness outwardly. I swore that I would hide my intoxication from everyone from that time on (on those rare occasions that I chose to drink, which was about twice a year during the first half of my college experience). And I did just that. I was quite intoxicated when I did drink, but I was very reserved on the outside.
Side Note: Unexpected Side Effect
There was a totally unexpected side effect of suppressing my drunkenness: My sense of humor increased dramatically. Why? Because my good humor was still in me, only I had become very, very careful about what parts of it I actually spoke out loud, and I thought very carefully about just how to say whatever I wanted to say; and I kept it short). I had not been known for my sense of humor in junior high and high school (except around my cousins), because so many of my classmates had hilarious senses of humor. In fact, one of my best friends was (and still is) easily the funniest person I have ever known (I'm not alone in that assessment). I had always been intimidated by that, figuring I could never compete (although I tried a lot and usually failed miserably).
................ However, I had watched those funny people very closely, and I had been continuously taking mental notes................
After leaving that crowd and settling in a more humorless part of the country (western Nebraska), there was no one to "intimidate" me anymore, humor-wise; so my own sense of humor, aided occasionally by alcohol, had a chance to see the light of day. In fact, the first time I sat and drank with my family (at age 21), I had my parents rolling with laughter while we played "quarters." I had never even tried to be funny around them before, and they had never suspected that I even had a sense of humor. That day probably will always be my funniest day.
-----
Not Wanting to Get Caught
I had first begun tending bar during a brief hiatus from college (age 23). This first bar was located in a tiny town (125 people) in the middle of nowhere in far northwestern South Dakota. Traditionally, the customers in these small-town bars tip the bartender by buying him free drinks while he is on duty. If the tipping continues, then the bartender keeps on drinking. However, at that age, I absolutely did not want to be known as a regular drinker. Instead, I drank only on very special occasions, so I almost always politely refused their tips (which seemed to offend some of them, but, as I say, I'm pretty stubborn when it comes to being my own person).
Shortly after college (age 26), I put my teaching degree to good use by becoming a bartender again. This new bar was located in a small town (about 3,000 people) in Montana. "Drink tipping" was the tradition there, too. Having just recently suffered through that "Iranian Affair," with the loss still being keenly felt, I was a sitting duck for customers who wanted to buy me a drink. I drank their tips and thanked them profusely.
After spending only five months in that small town, I soon moved to Sioux Falls, SD, population of over 100,000, and began tending bar in one of the three nicest restaurant/lounges in town. It was a very high-class establishment. I still don't know what possessed me to go from a small-town dive to a large-town lounge that specialized in all the most "sophisticated" drinks. Drinking on the job there was expressly forbidden. So there was definitely no "drink tipping" allowed. Regrettably, I had still not been cured of my depression, so this no-drinking rule didn't hold much weight with me. On Friday and Saturday nights, when I was hidden in the service bar all alone (where only the waitresses picked up their drink orders), I would occasionally drink secretly. My long experience at hiding my inebriation paid off very nicely there.
You may be wondering if I stole from the inventory. No, I did not. I drank the drinks that were made by mistake. For instance, if a waitress ordered a "Long Island Iced Tea," then said, "No, no! Wait! I'm Sorry! I meant...!" I would sit the mistake down below the counter (instead of dumping it out) and drink it when no one was looking. Three or four such mistakes in an evening made for a pretty pleasant time. And not a single soul had a clue.
How do I know that not a single soul had a clue? Because one day I made up my mind to stop drinking for several months (or however long I had determined was appropriate). One of the waitresses was sincerely baffled when I told her this. She said, "Why, 'younameit'? You hardly ever drink!" Smiling slyly, I said, "Oh, you'd be surprised."
[Another side note: Almost immediately (maybe within five weeks) after I had quit drinking, I lost 10 or more pounds. I didn't even have to reduce my intake of food.]
So, in conclusion (somewhat of an anti-climactic conclusion, since it is now Monday morning), I don't know if I have built up an immunity to drunkenness (I mean the part of it that I feel) because I used to drink a lot (although nowhere near as much as the average person), or if I became so good at hiding my drunkenness from everyone else that I eventually stopped "feeling" the drunkenness myself. Either way, alcohol is a complete waste of time for me anymore. The vast majority of the time, it only makes me feel worse physically rather than better mentally. And it is incredibly unhealthy. All in all, it is disappointing that I no longer have alcohol to rely on as an easy "escape route." This means that it also does not enhance my sense of humor the way it used to, although there is still a trace of silliness left in me ;-).
Sincerely yours,
younameit
Highly recommended reading (along with her previous entry): "Robin Smith: 'Battle of La Belge: part two'.
Update: Thursday, April 23, 2020: It has now been five years and four months, to the day, since I last drank any alcohol. I din't miss it 95 precent of the time. I've been a proponent of supplements for the past 8 or 9 years. Certain ones of them make me feel very much at peace and help me sleep very soundly.
[There is a 2020 update at the end.]
I just drank three 16-ounce beers, and barely felt a twinge of silliness (still, it was more than the usual twinge, though). That is very annoying.
Luckily, I still have a fraction of that twinge in me as I write this entry.
There are three possible reasons for my immunity to alcohol:
1.) I'm tough as nails. No! Really!
2.) I didn't (yes, past tense) want to be laughed at.
3.) I didn't (yes, past tense) want to get caught.
I think the first choice is probably the correct choice, but the other two are worthy of some consideration.
Not Wanting to Be Laughed At
I never touched alcohol until the summer before my senior year in high school. Until that time, I had not been trying to be a saint. I just didn't hang out with the wrong crowd, and, furthermore, I had had no need or desire for alcohol. As a kid, I seemed to have been still half crocked from whatever moonshine I had drank in my last life on this earth. It didn't take much to entertain me in those days, and I seemed always to be laughing about something (although there were exceptions).
When I finally returned to my old home town in South Dakota the summer before my senior year (a story in itself), I promised myself that I was finally going to become a part of the crowd. I did this for my sake (or rather for the sake of my social life), not because I was caving in to any peer pressure (being incredibly stubborn, I never caved in to peer pressure, and they had long ago given up on trying to pressure me). In late July or early August, someone hired a rock band to entertain us at a keg party (kegger) in an obscure pasture by the creek a few miles west of town. It was an evening straight out of a Hollywood movie. If I remember correctly, I had five beers that evening, and I don't remember feeling drunk. I just remember feeling incredibly athletic and coordinated. I proved it by quickly climbing, hands free, up the corral and some other woodwork leading into the loft of my friends' giant barn. Even though I was a beginning drinker, I didn't have a hangover, or even a minor headache, the next morning. The lack of a hangover probably gave me the wrong idea about drinking to excess.
I drank again two months later (in September) at another kegger in the country (these were major affairs, with people showing up from seemingly everywhere). I drank so much that evening that I bravely, yet staggeringly, went hand in hand with a pretty girl straight into the back seat of my friend's car (with another friend's younger sister in the front seat letting me know how offended she was --- normally I would have cared). This girl had been trying to get my attention for a few weeks and I had not been brave enough to talk to her until I was thoroughly drunk and she was thoroughly drunker. Within three minutes of landing in the back seat, a girlfriend of my female companion knocked on the car window and told her it was time to go. Little did my companion's busybody "chaperone" know, but my companion (her friend) was far more "worldly" than I was. She was rescuing the wrong person. Needless to say, I was a bit unhappy.
Soon thereafter I threw up, and I didn't stop throwing up until about noon the next day. I swore I would never drink again.
Two months later (late November), I attended the girls' basketball team "kegger" (celebrating the end of the basketball season). Since three-fourths of the girls on the team were very appealing, there was no way I was going to miss that one. A number of my classmates, who had never seen me in a drunken condition, and who remembered that I had previously been far too innocent, said loudly, "We want to see 'younameit' drunk!" I happily obliged them. As soon as I had achieved drunkenness, I informed them of that fact, and they were not impressed. They politely pushed me away, not liking my uninhibited silliness.
The liars! The hypocrites!
However, I still had a blast visiting and stumbling around with one or two of the drunken girls on the team (no back seats this time, darn it); but my classmates' snubbing of me, because I was too drunk and silly, bothered me a lot, especially since they had specifically wanted to see me drunk (just not silly).
That night and the next morning, I did the requisite throwing up. What a nightmare it was, having to get up long before dawn to go to my dishwashing job at the local restaurant (all that scalding hot water, dirty, smelly plates, leftover scraps; the smells of frying bacon, sausage, eggs, etc.; I get nauseous just remembering it).
I did not drink again until I attended my high-school graduation party six months later (I had been at the "kegger" after my prom, but I didn't touch the stuff). Another random few of my classmates expressed an interest in seeing me drunk. Once again, I was happy to oblige, and once again I was too silly. As they gently nudged me away from them, they said, "Thaaaat's nice, 'younameit.' Naturally, I got sick again that night, but it was the last time I did so for several years. I had finally learned my lesson about drinking too much.
I had also learned my lesson about showing my drunkenness outwardly. I swore that I would hide my intoxication from everyone from that time on (on those rare occasions that I chose to drink, which was about twice a year during the first half of my college experience). And I did just that. I was quite intoxicated when I did drink, but I was very reserved on the outside.
Side Note: Unexpected Side Effect
There was a totally unexpected side effect of suppressing my drunkenness: My sense of humor increased dramatically. Why? Because my good humor was still in me, only I had become very, very careful about what parts of it I actually spoke out loud, and I thought very carefully about just how to say whatever I wanted to say; and I kept it short). I had not been known for my sense of humor in junior high and high school (except around my cousins), because so many of my classmates had hilarious senses of humor. In fact, one of my best friends was (and still is) easily the funniest person I have ever known (I'm not alone in that assessment). I had always been intimidated by that, figuring I could never compete (although I tried a lot and usually failed miserably).
................ However, I had watched those funny people very closely, and I had been continuously taking mental notes................
After leaving that crowd and settling in a more humorless part of the country (western Nebraska), there was no one to "intimidate" me anymore, humor-wise; so my own sense of humor, aided occasionally by alcohol, had a chance to see the light of day. In fact, the first time I sat and drank with my family (at age 21), I had my parents rolling with laughter while we played "quarters." I had never even tried to be funny around them before, and they had never suspected that I even had a sense of humor. That day probably will always be my funniest day.
-----
Not Wanting to Get Caught
I had first begun tending bar during a brief hiatus from college (age 23). This first bar was located in a tiny town (125 people) in the middle of nowhere in far northwestern South Dakota. Traditionally, the customers in these small-town bars tip the bartender by buying him free drinks while he is on duty. If the tipping continues, then the bartender keeps on drinking. However, at that age, I absolutely did not want to be known as a regular drinker. Instead, I drank only on very special occasions, so I almost always politely refused their tips (which seemed to offend some of them, but, as I say, I'm pretty stubborn when it comes to being my own person).
Shortly after college (age 26), I put my teaching degree to good use by becoming a bartender again. This new bar was located in a small town (about 3,000 people) in Montana. "Drink tipping" was the tradition there, too. Having just recently suffered through that "Iranian Affair," with the loss still being keenly felt, I was a sitting duck for customers who wanted to buy me a drink. I drank their tips and thanked them profusely.
After spending only five months in that small town, I soon moved to Sioux Falls, SD, population of over 100,000, and began tending bar in one of the three nicest restaurant/lounges in town. It was a very high-class establishment. I still don't know what possessed me to go from a small-town dive to a large-town lounge that specialized in all the most "sophisticated" drinks. Drinking on the job there was expressly forbidden. So there was definitely no "drink tipping" allowed. Regrettably, I had still not been cured of my depression, so this no-drinking rule didn't hold much weight with me. On Friday and Saturday nights, when I was hidden in the service bar all alone (where only the waitresses picked up their drink orders), I would occasionally drink secretly. My long experience at hiding my inebriation paid off very nicely there.
You may be wondering if I stole from the inventory. No, I did not. I drank the drinks that were made by mistake. For instance, if a waitress ordered a "Long Island Iced Tea," then said, "No, no! Wait! I'm Sorry! I meant...!" I would sit the mistake down below the counter (instead of dumping it out) and drink it when no one was looking. Three or four such mistakes in an evening made for a pretty pleasant time. And not a single soul had a clue.
How do I know that not a single soul had a clue? Because one day I made up my mind to stop drinking for several months (or however long I had determined was appropriate). One of the waitresses was sincerely baffled when I told her this. She said, "Why, 'younameit'? You hardly ever drink!" Smiling slyly, I said, "Oh, you'd be surprised."
[Another side note: Almost immediately (maybe within five weeks) after I had quit drinking, I lost 10 or more pounds. I didn't even have to reduce my intake of food.]
So, in conclusion (somewhat of an anti-climactic conclusion, since it is now Monday morning), I don't know if I have built up an immunity to drunkenness (I mean the part of it that I feel) because I used to drink a lot (although nowhere near as much as the average person), or if I became so good at hiding my drunkenness from everyone else that I eventually stopped "feeling" the drunkenness myself. Either way, alcohol is a complete waste of time for me anymore. The vast majority of the time, it only makes me feel worse physically rather than better mentally. And it is incredibly unhealthy. All in all, it is disappointing that I no longer have alcohol to rely on as an easy "escape route." This means that it also does not enhance my sense of humor the way it used to, although there is still a trace of silliness left in me ;-).
Sincerely yours,
younameit
Highly recommended reading (along with her previous entry): "Robin Smith: 'Battle of La Belge: part two'.
Update: Thursday, April 23, 2020: It has now been five years and four months, to the day, since I last drank any alcohol. I din't miss it 95 precent of the time. I've been a proponent of supplements for the past 8 or 9 years. Certain ones of them make me feel very much at peace and help me sleep very soundly.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
If I Were to Guess...
How many of you have seen an episode in a TV series (no particular series) in which a group of good-hearted kids has an encounter with an angry old recluse, or hermit? Most of you? Good. In such shows, there is always one kid in the group who decides to befriend the hermit in order to show him that the world is really a magical, wonderful place. The hermit only wants to be left alone, but the kid won't give up. Finally the hermit has to surrender to the kid's persistence, mostly because the show is almost over, and the audience needs a neat conclusion to a formulaic plot.
When I was a kid, I always rooted for the kid to teach the hermit a lesson in happiness. As a child (and even in adulthood) I befriended my share of cantankerous elderly people, usually with the same goal in mind. Then one day, when I was in college, I think -- and a bit more experienced on the unpleasantness of life --, I was watching yet another "kid-befriends-angry-hermit" program (obviously a popular plot line in Hollywood). As the naive kid (a girl in this episode) tried to befriend the world weary old hermit, I suddenly had a premonition: "I bet I'm going to be one of those angry old hermits some day. If that turns out to be the case, then there is no way some kid is going to feed me a line about how wonderful the world is. Hermits (the non-insane kind) usually become hermits for very good reasons."
It turns out I was right. Every once in a while, and in spite of my not being a senior citizen yet (thank gosh), the hermit in me struggles to take over. I do my best to resist, but I don't always succeed (living in this town hasn't helped matters, either). For the past few days, I've been in my hermit phase (although not in an angry way), and it is a struggle trying to keep in touch with the world, including all you DiaryLanders and Bloggers. Every once in a while, in both the past and the present, one of you will "drop by" and try to drag me out of my isolation. My instincts are to say, "Shoo!" and "Scat!" but I know it would do no good. :-)
So I guess I will honor katm6's request and try to dredge up something insightful for this entry. By the way, she is new a new reader of my diary, and she found me without any help from me! I also have to thank her for "stopping by in person," so to speak, to check up on me. She is pretty persistent (just like one of the kids in the analogy above :-), pretty entertaining and very kind with her compliments.
OK... So... Ummmmmm... Let's see...
? ?
Well, dang. I can't think of anything to write about.
What was the last exciting thing to happen to me that I haven't already described in detail? Let me think... Well, there was this girl in 8th grade...
Too long ago? Well, not much happens to hermits, you know. :-)
OK, then, what was the last boring thing to happen to me that I haven't already described in detail? Well, there was this... Nah, I couldn't do that to you.
The Truth (not that the above isn't true, too; because it is... mostly)
One of the reasons that you haven't heard from me in a while is because I was in South Dakota for almost two weeks and returned last Friday afternoon (July 8). This time I made the trip to see if I could qualify for a particular job (it will be quite a while before I hear from them). I stayed with relatives for a week and lazed about visiting and talking and visiting -- and drinking too, while talking -- and that was about it. I also collected more old family photographs from one of my aunts to scan into the family history. The last time I was there, she was in the process of moving, so she wasn't able to find all of her photos. After she had finished moving, she found the box that contains the really old photos (some going back to almost 1900 -- one even earlier than that), and I now have them and will soon be scanning them. [Side note: Genealogy is very addictive once you get into it. It requires a lot of detective work (much of it on the internet), which is definitely the fun part. It is fun even when I do it for other people. Some of you might want to give it a try sometime. I think you will be pleasantly surprised.]
After saying good-bye to my relatives, I spent two days in one of my old home towns in central South Dakota visiting an old classmate and his mother (she lives across the street from him -- "Thaaat's right..." :-). Actually, she was sort of a second mother to me for a few months when I was a senior in high school (I'll write about it sometime). It was the first time I had been back there in several years and just missed the town's centennial celebration by one day. Strangely enough, I wasn't in the mood to see anyone else while I was there. This makes me wonder if I have finally lost touch with the "magic" that I used to feel when I lived there, or whenever I visited my friends there in the past. The depressing part is that it didn't depress me to feel that way.
During the final two days of the trip, I stopped in the town here in western Nebraska where I used to work for the school district. A state agency there had purchased a new Macintosh and wanted me to transfer all the files from the old computer (the lady who received the computer is the wife of a teacher who knows me). I thought it would be as easy as it always is, and it was; however, they didn't tell me that it also had to be connected to an ancient network with an ancient server (a server for two computers! talk about overkill). After ten hours of work (requiring an unexpected overnight stay) they are now computing with much greater ease than ever before. I showed them that they could abandon the server completely, as well as a Windows computer that some bureaucrat had mistakenly told them they needed for certain work, but that bureaucrat was completely wrong).
After finally returning home last Friday, I logged onto the internet for a few minutes (I wasn't able to do on a regular basis while visiting my relatives). I was too tired to do very much at that time, though (my car's air conditioning had not worked at all during the entire trip, so I was very, very tired from too much heat). When I tried to log on again later that evening, my internet company had had a malfunction, which they didn't get fixed for three days; therefore, I couldn't even check DiaryLand to see what you people had been up to; nor could I let you know that I had not abandoned you permanently. On Monday, I went to a local non-profit genealogy place (I think I've mentioned it before), where the owner -- a friend -- lets me connect to his wireless network with my PowerBook. Waiting for me was a very nice message from katm6 (mentioned above), in which she informed me that I had been tagged by Clarity25 on July 6. Due my having been away and the internet malfunction at home, I had not known this. Once again, I am amazed. Out of eleventy-hundred people in her favorites, Clarity selected me!
As for my having been tagged with that particular survey: After reading Clarity's and Eric's answers, I am somewhat intimidated. Their answers are excellent and mirror my own in most cases (not the excellent part, just the "gist" part). Eric's comment on patriotism is practically identical to what I would have written, except that he says it so much better and in far fewer words. And to think: He wrote his comments in English! His second language! How can I compare to that?
Now, for that survey:
This isn't the sort of survey at which I normally excel, so I hope you will forgive me if my comments are a bit weak.
1.) Cell phones - I agree completely with Clarity with regard to cell phones; however, I don't want to copy her comments, so I will go in another direction: I got my first cell phone in early 2002. If it had not been for the constant pestering by friends and family who wanted to call me all the time, I would never have done so (then, when I got it, very few of them ever called me). It had been three years since I had last had a telephone of any type. The lack of a phone had been unintentional at first, but then it became incredibly refreshing not to hear that thing ringing all the time (oops, there's some of my hermit tendencies surfacing). I wish I had never gotten it. For the first two years that I had it, it seemed that every call involved bad news. I came to dread hearing the thing ring (even more than I dreaded hearing the regular phone ring back in my "soul mate" days); and I still cringe when I hear that irritating "ring," even though there has been no bad news for quite some time. I just wish someone with whom I would really enjoy visiting would call me sometime.
As for this popular movement to ban people from talking on cell phones in cars, I find that a bit silly. If they ban them, then they should also ban passengers and radios. Just think about it. When a passenger is sitting next to the driver, the driver is not only carrying on a conversation, but he or she is also constantly looking at the passenger during said conversation. Tell me how a cell phone is worse than that. As for radios, how many of us have looked up at the road and wondered how long it had been since we had last paid attention to our driving?
2.) SUV's - Now that gas prices are criminally high, I don't feel even the slightest bit sorry for those people who bought giant vehicles for the shallowest of reasons (or for the mere sake of convenience if they used their kids as an excuse to buy big). They get what they deserve (no offense to any DiaryLanders who bought big ;-). This goes triple for the companies that manufacture these monstrosities (even more so since they've outsourced thousands of jobs to third-world countries). These companies have had ample opportunity in recent years to be mass producing hybrid (gas/electric) vehicles, as well as vehicles that run on other alternative fuels, such as hydrogen (my personal favorite); but they were lazy and greedy and probably in cahoots with the oil companies.
3.) Return to the Eighties - It was in that decade that shallowness, coldness, rudeness [...] became trendy, and it has gotten progressively and dramatically worse since then. In general, though, I don't think of decades in terms of national and international trends or fads. I think of them with regard to my own life and what I would do if I could go back for a "do over." I've been trying for many months to write an entry about a "do over," but it has proven impossible to find the right words.
4.) Patriotism - The following two quotes echo my sentiments for the most part:
"Patriotism is your conviction that this country is superior to all others, because you were born in it." - George Bernard Shaw
"Patriotism. To me, it seems a dreadful indignity to have a soul controlled by geography." - George Santayana
There is another very long editorial, which I may post sometime if I can find out if the copyright has expired (it was published in The Ladies Home Journal -- of all places -- in July 1916). It states the idea of true patriotism better than anything I have ever read before.
5.) Buffy the Vampire Slayer - I've only seen bits and pieces of it, but it was more than enough to say, "Yuck!" every time I see it. What more can I say about it? I have always hated horror movies, so why on earth would I want to watch a show about a teenage girl fighting vampires, and other evil demons?
6.) Reality TV - It is an absolute embarrassment to humanity. It exemplifies the shallowness, coldness and rudeness that has become so trendy since the 80s. Sadly, since that crap is so cheap to produce, and people inexplicably like it so much, it won't be going away anytime soon.
When I was a kid, I always rooted for the kid to teach the hermit a lesson in happiness. As a child (and even in adulthood) I befriended my share of cantankerous elderly people, usually with the same goal in mind. Then one day, when I was in college, I think -- and a bit more experienced on the unpleasantness of life --, I was watching yet another "kid-befriends-angry-hermit" program (obviously a popular plot line in Hollywood). As the naive kid (a girl in this episode) tried to befriend the world weary old hermit, I suddenly had a premonition: "I bet I'm going to be one of those angry old hermits some day. If that turns out to be the case, then there is no way some kid is going to feed me a line about how wonderful the world is. Hermits (the non-insane kind) usually become hermits for very good reasons."
It turns out I was right. Every once in a while, and in spite of my not being a senior citizen yet (thank gosh), the hermit in me struggles to take over. I do my best to resist, but I don't always succeed (living in this town hasn't helped matters, either). For the past few days, I've been in my hermit phase (although not in an angry way), and it is a struggle trying to keep in touch with the world, including all you DiaryLanders and Bloggers. Every once in a while, in both the past and the present, one of you will "drop by" and try to drag me out of my isolation. My instincts are to say, "Shoo!" and "Scat!" but I know it would do no good. :-)
So I guess I will honor katm6's request and try to dredge up something insightful for this entry. By the way, she is new a new reader of my diary, and she found me without any help from me! I also have to thank her for "stopping by in person," so to speak, to check up on me. She is pretty persistent (just like one of the kids in the analogy above :-), pretty entertaining and very kind with her compliments.
OK... So... Ummmmmm... Let's see...
? ?
Well, dang. I can't think of anything to write about.
What was the last exciting thing to happen to me that I haven't already described in detail? Let me think... Well, there was this girl in 8th grade...
Too long ago? Well, not much happens to hermits, you know. :-)
OK, then, what was the last boring thing to happen to me that I haven't already described in detail? Well, there was this... Nah, I couldn't do that to you.
The Truth (not that the above isn't true, too; because it is... mostly)
One of the reasons that you haven't heard from me in a while is because I was in South Dakota for almost two weeks and returned last Friday afternoon (July 8). This time I made the trip to see if I could qualify for a particular job (it will be quite a while before I hear from them). I stayed with relatives for a week and lazed about visiting and talking and visiting -- and drinking too, while talking -- and that was about it. I also collected more old family photographs from one of my aunts to scan into the family history. The last time I was there, she was in the process of moving, so she wasn't able to find all of her photos. After she had finished moving, she found the box that contains the really old photos (some going back to almost 1900 -- one even earlier than that), and I now have them and will soon be scanning them. [Side note: Genealogy is very addictive once you get into it. It requires a lot of detective work (much of it on the internet), which is definitely the fun part. It is fun even when I do it for other people. Some of you might want to give it a try sometime. I think you will be pleasantly surprised.]
After saying good-bye to my relatives, I spent two days in one of my old home towns in central South Dakota visiting an old classmate and his mother (she lives across the street from him -- "Thaaat's right..." :-). Actually, she was sort of a second mother to me for a few months when I was a senior in high school (I'll write about it sometime). It was the first time I had been back there in several years and just missed the town's centennial celebration by one day. Strangely enough, I wasn't in the mood to see anyone else while I was there. This makes me wonder if I have finally lost touch with the "magic" that I used to feel when I lived there, or whenever I visited my friends there in the past. The depressing part is that it didn't depress me to feel that way.
During the final two days of the trip, I stopped in the town here in western Nebraska where I used to work for the school district. A state agency there had purchased a new Macintosh and wanted me to transfer all the files from the old computer (the lady who received the computer is the wife of a teacher who knows me). I thought it would be as easy as it always is, and it was; however, they didn't tell me that it also had to be connected to an ancient network with an ancient server (a server for two computers! talk about overkill). After ten hours of work (requiring an unexpected overnight stay) they are now computing with much greater ease than ever before. I showed them that they could abandon the server completely, as well as a Windows computer that some bureaucrat had mistakenly told them they needed for certain work, but that bureaucrat was completely wrong).
After finally returning home last Friday, I logged onto the internet for a few minutes (I wasn't able to do on a regular basis while visiting my relatives). I was too tired to do very much at that time, though (my car's air conditioning had not worked at all during the entire trip, so I was very, very tired from too much heat). When I tried to log on again later that evening, my internet company had had a malfunction, which they didn't get fixed for three days; therefore, I couldn't even check DiaryLand to see what you people had been up to; nor could I let you know that I had not abandoned you permanently. On Monday, I went to a local non-profit genealogy place (I think I've mentioned it before), where the owner -- a friend -- lets me connect to his wireless network with my PowerBook. Waiting for me was a very nice message from katm6 (mentioned above), in which she informed me that I had been tagged by Clarity25 on July 6. Due my having been away and the internet malfunction at home, I had not known this. Once again, I am amazed. Out of eleventy-hundred people in her favorites, Clarity selected me!
As for my having been tagged with that particular survey: After reading Clarity's and Eric's answers, I am somewhat intimidated. Their answers are excellent and mirror my own in most cases (not the excellent part, just the "gist" part). Eric's comment on patriotism is practically identical to what I would have written, except that he says it so much better and in far fewer words. And to think: He wrote his comments in English! His second language! How can I compare to that?
Now, for that survey:
This isn't the sort of survey at which I normally excel, so I hope you will forgive me if my comments are a bit weak.
1.) Cell phones - I agree completely with Clarity with regard to cell phones; however, I don't want to copy her comments, so I will go in another direction: I got my first cell phone in early 2002. If it had not been for the constant pestering by friends and family who wanted to call me all the time, I would never have done so (then, when I got it, very few of them ever called me). It had been three years since I had last had a telephone of any type. The lack of a phone had been unintentional at first, but then it became incredibly refreshing not to hear that thing ringing all the time (oops, there's some of my hermit tendencies surfacing). I wish I had never gotten it. For the first two years that I had it, it seemed that every call involved bad news. I came to dread hearing the thing ring (even more than I dreaded hearing the regular phone ring back in my "soul mate" days); and I still cringe when I hear that irritating "ring," even though there has been no bad news for quite some time. I just wish someone with whom I would really enjoy visiting would call me sometime.
As for this popular movement to ban people from talking on cell phones in cars, I find that a bit silly. If they ban them, then they should also ban passengers and radios. Just think about it. When a passenger is sitting next to the driver, the driver is not only carrying on a conversation, but he or she is also constantly looking at the passenger during said conversation. Tell me how a cell phone is worse than that. As for radios, how many of us have looked up at the road and wondered how long it had been since we had last paid attention to our driving?
2.) SUV's - Now that gas prices are criminally high, I don't feel even the slightest bit sorry for those people who bought giant vehicles for the shallowest of reasons (or for the mere sake of convenience if they used their kids as an excuse to buy big). They get what they deserve (no offense to any DiaryLanders who bought big ;-). This goes triple for the companies that manufacture these monstrosities (even more so since they've outsourced thousands of jobs to third-world countries). These companies have had ample opportunity in recent years to be mass producing hybrid (gas/electric) vehicles, as well as vehicles that run on other alternative fuels, such as hydrogen (my personal favorite); but they were lazy and greedy and probably in cahoots with the oil companies.
3.) Return to the Eighties - It was in that decade that shallowness, coldness, rudeness [...] became trendy, and it has gotten progressively and dramatically worse since then. In general, though, I don't think of decades in terms of national and international trends or fads. I think of them with regard to my own life and what I would do if I could go back for a "do over." I've been trying for many months to write an entry about a "do over," but it has proven impossible to find the right words.
4.) Patriotism - The following two quotes echo my sentiments for the most part:
"Patriotism is your conviction that this country is superior to all others, because you were born in it." - George Bernard Shaw
"Patriotism. To me, it seems a dreadful indignity to have a soul controlled by geography." - George Santayana
There is another very long editorial, which I may post sometime if I can find out if the copyright has expired (it was published in The Ladies Home Journal -- of all places -- in July 1916). It states the idea of true patriotism better than anything I have ever read before.
5.) Buffy the Vampire Slayer - I've only seen bits and pieces of it, but it was more than enough to say, "Yuck!" every time I see it. What more can I say about it? I have always hated horror movies, so why on earth would I want to watch a show about a teenage girl fighting vampires, and other evil demons?
6.) Reality TV - It is an absolute embarrassment to humanity. It exemplifies the shallowness, coldness and rudeness that has become so trendy since the 80s. Sadly, since that crap is so cheap to produce, and people inexplicably like it so much, it won't be going away anytime soon.
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