untitled

If there's one thing I've learned repeatedly is that you can't change people unless they want to change themselves.  You can't control the way they will act towards you and you cannot control the outcome of various decisions.  But you can control your own actions and that's just the beginning.

The biggest struggle I come up against daily is the "labeling game".  We all play it.  I am guilty of it myself and I've made a commitment to fight my unconscious inclination to do so.  The way I see it, it sucks being on the side of being labeled.  As a server, it's an addicting way of life.  As a sociology major, I am appalled to have realized that I did so often, but no more.  This nonsense and waste of energy stops now.

It's funny how a negative or absent reaction can change your perception of one person or a personal belief.  I have this thing about following up.  I worked in the corporate sector for a number of years and responding to emails and voice mails is a huge part of this field.  The reality is, you can apply this courtesy in any job or situation.  Quite honestly, nothing bugs me more than when I leave three messages for someone (personal or professional) and they fail to return my call.  My first reaction is disbelief, followed by anger.  Then it's up to me to decide to let it go.  You can't change these people and if they don't properly follow up then it's time to move on.  I could label you as I've done so in the past, but I choose instead to make more of an effort to ensure I always follow up.  It's called taking the negative and turning it into positive reinforcement.

So what is the moral of this blog post?  I'd given it the name "untitled" in honor of my stance from here on out to forgo my habit of labeling.  We are all set in our ways, maybe it has to do with how you fold your socks or how you hold your wine glass or how you respond to your server's greeting (in reference to the lady over the weekend who kept her eyes fixed on the menu the entire time I spoke to her).  For all I know she could have had a horrible week at work or felt intimated by the wine list which caused her and her companion to walk out.  Next time I'll make an extended effort to read such a guest and make the experience feel less pretentious.

I recently wrote a friend to tell her I wrote a blog post regarding a recent conversation we shared in mind.  It began as an inspiration and grew from there.  I was happy with its completion so I thought to share my joy with her.  I received no reply.  It left me stumped, but eventually I got over it.  I believe my post inspired or touched someone else, if not her.  We are owners of our time, moving forward you can decide how to delegate yours.  Don't dwell on past incidents when the present is much more valuable and invites new opportunities to grow.

Whatever is true and noble - think about such things.  If you fill your mind with positive thoughts, the need to label people or fret over uncontrollable situations will leave you.  Life's too short to think of such titles.  Look ahead, turn the corner and take a few steps...I feel confident when I say it will lead you to areas that attract the same mind sets and concerns.  You will find others that will respond and show interest in what you have to say.  Then suddenly this repeated lesson learned won't matter as much and you'll realize you've grown up.

We don't need a world of titles, we need a world that cares.  Make that change.  It'll bring on contagion - and in this day and age, we need it more now then ever.

My true hue

It's been a while since I've realized who I really am.  I thought I knew myself best when I was a stoner, but once I kicked that habit, I realized it was just a masked calm version of a girl who's had nervous energy ever since she was a kid.  I thought I knew myself best when I started drinking more heavily these last five months, mostly alone.  When I thought alcohol was my best friend because all the girlfriends I previously had showed their deepened selfish side and I knew I was done with them for good.  Truth is, alcohol only numbed my pain, the hurt feelings I had been hiding.  So when it rained early this morning and I stood in my driveway, soaking up the drops and feeling as if all had been washed away, I realized only then my true hue was showing through.  I discovered that the only person who could make me happy, is me.  Not substance abuse, not a job I've always wanted, not a friend who's not really a true friend, nope - none of these entities could fill the position.  Only me.

Of course there's arguments to this point.  Most of which are purely subjective.  To name a few, doing yoga again has helped me feel better about myself physically and emotionally.  Eating more raw fruits and vegetables has caused me to feel stronger.  I also cut out coffee and espresso......whoa, that was huge for me and the transition has gone remarkably smooth.  Finally, I cut down on drinking drastically and as a result have developed a new found love for sobriety.  When I got in touch with my inner self, the one hundred percent completely sober person that represents my true hue started peeking out.  I felt as if I won my battle and was on the road to discovering happiness.  The journey will shock me, I have no doubt, but it'll also help me remember how to smile meaningly.

And not cause I'm posing for a picture.

So what is your "true hue" you may ask?  It's when the sense of calmness evolves and you listen to yourself rather than use other particles to filter your feelings.  Let yourself feel what you do, don't repress it, it'll only kill you slowly.  Let go and take control of what you know is truly of you.  You'll hear that voice, you'll remember it from way back and it'll say, "It's good to have you back."  And you'll smile and say, "It's good to be back."

when the thrill is gone

I overheard someone explain to their friend how she compared the faded excitement of her year old job to falling in love only to have the sizzle die.  We've all been there.  However I, for one, am tired of people telling me when things should be rocking as opposed to rolling away or vice versa.  Why does the initial start of anything resort to a day-to-day regime that insinuates the thrill is gone? Why must that be?

Although I was never a daddy's girl, if there's something to be said about my relationship with my father is we are very much alike and we understand each other's artistic side.  He'd tell my mom things about me that he was always able to read and I'd jump back in shock of its validity.  Is it because I show my colors through or because I don't hide behind the lines?  As I remembered a dear friend today, I was reminded of how much I'd go out of my way for her, she whom I lost at a very young age.  She was compassionate beyond reason and she still, to this day, leaves an impression on me whenever I think of the way we should love and not deconstruct.

Don't give up on the grand finale.  Sure, the excitement of "brand new" dies (this is not meant to sound dramatic), but it can coincide with other great things that surface.  I relay this to my love for wine and its existence in its ever-growing community.  I never bore from it.  Every time I learn something new, or watch the look on a guest's face when they are trying a grape variety for the first time, or figure out the difference between day bright and starlight when blind tasting in a room with minimal natural light, or pick up slate over clay or chalk in its nose, or being able to pin point the vintage by its hue and the maturity of its flavor profile.  I get off on this shit and that is why this thrill is not gone for me.  It's called passion.  Once you have it, you can apply it wherever you choose and so desire and that magic you crave will never die.  This is truth.  Make that choice to live for each moment unconditionally and don't ever look back with regret.  It will only age you.

Could you please rewind that?

I began serving 13 years ago for a catering company up north as a second job to raise some extra cash.  Catering is a whole different ball game, but for what it's worth, I am thankful for having this prior experience before joining the restaurant ranks.  It taught me to hustle and keep quiet.  When you do catering, you don't talk much with the guests as you would in a restaurant environment and you move like your life depends on it.  This was a valuable lesson obtained because once I switched to one-on-one service, I learned how to hone the skill that makes a true server:  humble hospitality. I take serving very seriously.  I talk to my guests about food and wine like it lives within me.  I'm not saying I know everything because I don't, but as a server you are learning every minute you cover your station.  When dining out, I often think about the way the server had done this or that and I constantly use those experiences to improve my game.

Here's the deal.  I dread reading food reviews because so much focus is either lost or overplayed on the service aspect.  Just recently, there had been coverage on particular restaurants that actually did the latter - it offered rough criticism on the service.  And every time I read such reviews, I want to jump into that very moment, change the entire ambiance and ask them to "please rewind that" and give me a chance to prove you wrong.

The first time I was a part of a review was less than six years ago and I was nervous as hell.  It was rumored the critic would show up and I was picked by the executive chef to wait on her and I honestly felt he chose the wrong person.  But I stayed focused and went over all the details with the sous chef running the line and he assured me I would be fine.  I took a deep breathe and dived in and I never looked back. The review was a great success.  I can't recall the actual wording used to describe the service aspect, but it did exert positive feedback.  I was very happy with the results and since then, I made a pact to myself to strive to labor those experiences with great passion.

The truth is, every experience will always be different.  If a concept of a restaurant is one that fares differently than the norm, that should most definitely be taken into account.  The review I read recently mentioned something to the effect of the server setting up camp, well maybe this was true, but when the idea behind the theme is completely different (aka the road less traveled), servers will over prepare instead of neglect.  I feel I have a good sense of when to observe, when to chat and when to walk away.  I owe many thanks to my Sociology degree for teaching me the mechanics of human form and how to interpret the personality of each individual.  And that is the true secret to serving, knowing how to read your guest.  It is power and anyone who wants to make the service experience one the guest will never forget, you must master the art of social interaction.

Here is my final message to food critics, "be a fan, but don't pick sides" - each restaurant is its own creation.  I work with very passionate people, both front of the house and in the kitchen.  They don't mess around.  They show up because they love what they do and they do what they do with heart.  It's not easy to work the kitchen.  I'll be the first to admit it.  That's why my role as a server must counteract with their labor of love that is born amidst kitchen space of high heat indexes.  The guest doesn't get to hear what the line cook has to say, so the server must indirectly speak for them. They must show them the way.  The beauty of serving is having the ability of creating a two hour experience that showcases the efforts of the executive chef, kitchen staff and the restaurant theme as a whole.  I would like to invite anyone who's had a miss experience anywhere to come see me and show you how I roll.  After all, as my Twitter bio reads:  love food and wine, serving such, then devouring it myself.

anger is served

I heeded a lot of advice this past year from breaking up with myself, letting go of disappointments and expecting less.  Each one born from an experience, a time and a place.  I won't repeat myself, but I have floated through reprises most recently that brought about a lot of anger.  A few weeks ago I saw someone, I thought a friend, for who they really were.  It blew me away, but in hindsight I believe this entire year prepared me for this because instead of crying, I became angry.  I felt my heart harden again and forced a smile on my face because I knew deep down inside it would make me stronger.  Then just yesterday, I heard from a common friend that an industry peer spoke bad words about me behind my back.  Right then, I wanted to land my fist on her face, but internally I knew my manners would make the best of me and I turned the other cheek.

For now.

I went to the movies the other day and watched the Avengers.  I was in awe of Bruce Banner's character.  I am not a comic book fan, but I watched the Incredible Hulk often as a child.  My favorite line in the movie was when Bruce replies to Captain America, "That's my secret, I'm always angry."  The timing of my seeing this movie and the most recent events in my life are not coincident, as I am a true believer of everything happens for a reason.  We may not want to admit it, but we need to get angry.  It's a healthy way of letting off steam.  Remember yourself as a child, how you never held back, how if you felt strongly about something, you didn't thinking twice before you said anything.  As a result, you didn't feel stress, your health didn't deteriorate and the next day you felt great.  Well, ladies and gentlemen, I want to feel great again.  Admit it, you do too.

The Incredible Hulk gets stronger the angrier he gets.  Granted, it's a fictional character, but one we must regard in times of need.  These days, there's lots of things I'm angry about.  Yet when I repress my feelings, I don't accomplish anything.  This produces a hidden box inside of me that grows and in turn, is never healed.  But if I take that box out and release my emotions, I am doing a greater service to myself.  It's not to say that I may never make someone or something a victim of anger, but don't be afraid to admit you're mad because you're the only one who defends you.  You're your own hero and if you never unleash your hero then life's not worth fighting or living for, is it?

I'll get back to the supposed colleague, and I'll have chosen words that will definitely make her reposition what she speaks of in the future.  I won't turn green or start throwing punches, but I'll serve her my anger and believe me when I'm done...it won't be coming back to the kitchen.

Double identity: when the enemy becomes your best friend

The wine I'm drinking tonight was opened then corked about nine days ago.  I forgot about it, but it sat in my basement which maintains a constant temperature of about 60 degrees, give or take a few degrees so I ventured out to try it in hopes its longevity proved it viable stance.  A wine from Languedoc and consisting of four red varietals, it was a bit past its prime, but still somewhat drinkable.  I decided to put a chill on it so that any signs of oxidation would be masked by such and it proved to do just that.

My morning began as usual.  Scrambling up at half past seven - attempting to wake up children, one who responds easily and one who prefers to stay in bed all day.  After dropping them off for school, I started to take in my night's past.  I was elated to be off from work, yet painfully dumbfounded by news that I still did not know how to decipher.  I craved rap music that possessed nothing but swear words because my new year's resolution would then be tampered.  What the fuck, I thought.  Then I quickly decided a need for a bloody mary in my near future would sedate me and my thoughts would vanish.  The bloody mary appeared but my thoughts' vanishing never happened.

The afternoon rolled around and after attempting errands for over an hour, I rushed home to chug a beer.  Not good, especially considering I had an event to attend at my children's school four hours later and I didn't wish to feel bloated.  Didn't matter because the harm had been done, but I made up for it by making a kick-ass dinner in a matter of 30 minutes.  The highlight of my day.

Dinner came and went, so did the event at school which turned out to be very successful.  I was much impressed with the efforts my children had put forth in their presentations in their homeroom. And as you could imagine, feeling the joy as a mother of two children with honest hard work put forth, I was beyond proud.  We returned home to an after dinner snack and a bit of TV before I sent them off to bed and that brings me back to the bottle I rested in the fridge.

Wow - it's amazing what chill time does to a bottle that should have been consumed five days earlier.  It did its trick and continues to do so, but here I am writing this entry, without having gotten to my original point that spawned on the idea of my title.

In all honesty, it's about how I feel right now.  I feel like the enemy is closer to me than those I call my friends.  I am getting too tired of the bullshit of one-sided kindness, of passive aggressiveness (an overly used term that yet describes most people I meet), of no one taking the fucking time to put themselves in my shoes.  Really?  I feel closer to my enemies sometimes because there's no pressure to impress or devote - and in the end it's all the same.

It's all about expectations.  In an earlier post I extended the advice to "expect less".  In my human state, I forget to apply this tactic in a continuous fashion.  So here I go, once again - telling myself to let go, drink wine and turn to my enemies.  They don't expect much from me and vice versa.  The interaction is easy and I drink painlessly.  It sounds like a double identity issue, but let's be honest: we all have another side to our groove.  When I don't stress about life then life doesn't stress on me and when I add wine to the equation - it makes it all better.  Minus the emotion - wine is the only one who really gets me.

Blend of Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon, Carignan and Grenache "Vintage" 2010

no limit to kindness

Two months ago, I did the unthinkable.  I dropped my car keys on a side street without my knowing and didn't notice until three hours had passed.  I freaked, quietly.  No really, I did.  If you know me - you'd know that I have a keen sense of calmness when things get crazy.  I have been complemented on my ability to digest situations rationally.  I don't know how I came to be this way considering I grew up in a family that did not teach me to do so.  Maybe it's the Sociology degree I acquired, or my being a parent - whichever the case, I'm here to tell you the story of my mishap.

I began by retracing my steps.  I crazily remembered my morning shot of whiskey and how my giddy presence overtook my sense of thinking straight.  I had ideas to write of and my biggest goal for the day was to submit a review for a local newspaper I was trying to land a gig with.  I remember walking to my car with feelings of content completion because I finished the article with good feelings inside.  That's when I noticed I didn't have my keys.  Okay, I will just check my coat pockets - nope, not there.  Maybe my laptop case side pocket - no, not there either.  Alright, I'll retrace my steps exactly as I remember.  Well, that's not gonna happen because I was buzzing just a bit and since I was feeling extremely gleeful in the morning - I didn't know one hundred percent sure where I crossed the street, when I thought I put my car keys in my purse and how I was gonna locate the keys in the mist of scattered snow and mud on the ground.  Good times, huh?

I finally came to a conclusion.  I reviewed my steps over and over again and yet the keys never resurfaced.  I called my brother who lived nearby.  He offered to assist me in my search, but I kept thinking it would be useless.  Then he made a suggestion that maybe someone picked them up and turned them in to the taco joint located nearby.  After considering the possibility, I asked him to join me so he could watch my car while I ventured out to taco land.  He set out to drive over.

As I waited, I tried a few more times to search the grounds.  I looked under cars parked, I asked a neighbor nearby if they noticed any keys on the ground.  I even dug my shoes into patches of mud that were layered in various spots just in case somehow they were buried within.  Nothing turned up.

I stopped in the middle of the street and took some deep breaths.  For one crazy moment I thought maybe, just maybe, there was a good Samaritan who found the keys and without knowing who I was or where I went, decided that he would turn in the keys where I could find them easily.  I looked up from where I stood and at that very moment I saw my car keys hanging on one of the fence bars right there in front of me.  All I had to do was walk a few steps to my left and soon they would be in my hands again.

I still can't over this act of kindness.  This stranger - someone whom I never met, put my keys on the fence bar and they sat there for three hours until I came back to claim them.  This is honestly the most sincere act of kindness that I have ever encountered.  I wish I knew their name so I may thank them graciously, but finding that out would probably be ten times harder than finding a needle in a haystack.

I shared my "story of goodness" with others because I wanted them to believe in hope .  There are good people out there.  This was a very positive occurrence that probably happens everyday in some way, shape or form yet goes unnoticed.  These stories need to be told - in conclusion:  don't give up.  Return kindness to others.  Offer help when someone needs a hand, hold doors open for everyone, say thank you and you're welcome, extend compliments, go out of your way to let others know you appreciate them.  There's no limit to kindness.  It exists within all of us - we just have to express it and I believe that the more we do this, the more random acts of kindness won't just be random anymore and this crazy world we live in will become a peaceful place.