The Spirit of Christmas

With Christmas being only less than a week away, it's been hard to really concentrate on the season at hand with the tragedy that recently happened in Newtown, CT.  No amount of words can really put into perspective how devastating this event is to our nation, and to the families who lost loved ones.  I'm not about to try to say how horrible this event is, or whether there needs to be a renewed debate for gun control, or any other of the numerous topics that have been thrust into the spotlight.  I most certainly have never been subjected to the kind of emotions that those families are currently feeling, and pray I never have to.  My friend Will offered a good perspective of it in his latest blog, which you can find here.

But for me, while these events are certainly fresh in the minds of everyone, it is still the Christmas season, and I wanted to get a chance to write about what truly makes this time of year special.  It is my hope in reading this, that we are able to take stock in what we have, and to cherish those times and memories we spend with our families, realizing that at any moment they can be taken away.  While many of us are still shell shocked from this tragedy, let ourselves to be reminded what this time of year usually means for everyone, and maybe we can allow ourselves just a little bit of an escape from the hectic world we live in.  Happy holidays, and enjoy.

The Spirit of Christmas

Snow covered sidewalks.  Windows with lights.  Reindeer on the front lawns.  It’s the pure embodiment of the Christmas season.  Something that is to be viewed as a time to get together with those you care about, share the memories of seasons past, and enjoy an atmosphere that for a brief, shining moment, puts all the differences and disagreements aside.  Well, that is what the season is supposed to be about.  It seems nowadays, Christmas is more of a stress-inducing holiday than the one we knew growing up.  There are gifts to buy, parties to attend, travel plans to be arranged, and making sure your mother-in-law approves of the cheesecake you made for the family Christmas gathering.  We all spend so much time worrying about how we will be presenting ourselves, that it feels like the spirit of Christmas has really become the popularity contest of Christmas.

When I was growing up, Christmas was something special.  My family and I would go to this little shopping bazaar, where my three younger siblings and I would pick out gifts for us kids and our parents, take them home, wrap them in a room separate from each other so we wouldn’t know what we were getting, and place them all under the tree, not knowing what my diabolical little brothers might have thought I would enjoy that particular year.  Granted, those Lifesavers storybooks were great when I was 8, but when you’re 14 and still getting them, that’s a little overboard.  But it was something we all got to do as a family.  It brought us all together for a common goal: to make our family Christmas the best one yet.

But that was almost 20 years ago.  Times change.  People change.  This is the first year where not one of us four kids is living at home.  I’m acting in Chicago, my younger brother is going to grad school in Florida, and my youngest brother and sister are off in college, at schools at least 3 hours away from my hometown.  And to be honest, that distance from everyone seems to make this season a little less welcoming than it used to.  Maybe it’s because we’re finally adults who have to make a living on our own.  Or possibly because it’s the week before Christmas and Chicago still has yet to have any snow on the ground.  Call me old fashioned, but growing up in northern Iowa, if there wasn’t snow on the ground for Christmas, it was a disappointment.

Either way, the idea of families together at Christmas is one of the staples that make the entire holiday season truly special.  You get a chance to reconnect in a way that makes time move just slow enough.  Granted, maybe you’re not a big fan of certain people in your family and can’t stand being in a room with them for one hour, let alone one day.  But for me, one day is what I feel is needed to truly enjoy everyone, getting a chance to sit around over a meal, banter back and forth about school, or the Vikings playoff chances, or why they thought giving you a pawned copy of Due Date as a present was a good idea.  You get to feel like a family again.

Now let me pose this question: why is it that people use only the Christmas holiday to feel like they need to act like better people?  As we all know, Santa knows who’s naughty, he knows who’s nice, and he knows who the bitter pricks are.  But for the minority of people who DON’T believe in Santa, why do we all take this time to give to charities, say yes to holiday parties, and just behave better in general?  The cliché response is that it shouldn’t just be around this time of year, but it should be a year round behavior we should emulate.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I completely agree with that sentiment.  However, the reality of the situation is that the majority of people think that they just aren’t able to afford the holiday spirit year round.  And that, for those of you who may not realize, is complete bullshit.

The idea of the spirit of Christmas is not some commercialized way of saying Thank You, or I Love You, with Furbies, or Uggs, or Tickle Me Elmo’s.  The spirit of Christmas, to me anyways, is to be kind and considerate of others, and wanting to do the best for them that you can.  Gifts are nice, but are not the only thing that can communicate that feeling of caring.  How else do you explain why Christmas Cards are so popular?

There is a picture my parents took when I was probably about 4 years old, where I am holding onto this little John Deere tractor Christmas tree ornament.  That, for me, is a picture that truly captures the joy of Christmas.  Not a Power Wheels (which were a BIG deal back then), not a GI Joe, and not even a new sled.  A simple little Christmas ornament.  That’s all it took for me to be completely content.

It may be a little bit cliché, but one of my fondest wishes for this Christmas season is that everyone can find that one memory that allows them to be completely content.   Whether it’s sledding with your siblings, seeing your extended family for dinner, or just a walk down a snow covered street with the ones you love, remembering and enjoying those memories are part of my grown-up Christmas list.  Happy holidays everyone, and Merry Christmas.

*What is your favorite Christmas memory?  Feel free to share in the comments section below*

The Cost of Happiness

It's the holiday season, and everyone is getting out the lights, setting up the tree, wrapping the gifts, and preparing for the one night out of the year that everyone wakes from with a feeling of complete, unadulterated joy.  Sorry Hanukkah, you've got eight nights, so I'm naturally talking about Christmas.  As people are out shopping for the perfect gift, one thing permeates every thought they have: is this gift going to make this person happy?  We try to associate money with happiness, whether it's through our jobs, through our education, and through the gifts we buy.  But does all of that spending really buy us a happy life?  Just one of a thousand questions I attempt to answer through this blog.  Read on and enjoy.

The Cost of Happiness

I was recently surfing around on the Internet, and came across an article on Yahoo! that caught my eye.  It revolved around a study that tried to determine the perfect income for happiness.  The article talked about the amount of income earned and it’s correlation to people’s perception of happiness.  Granted, the United States wasn’t in this particular sampling, but the other 13 countries that were part of the study ranged from Austria to Singapore to Peru to Hong Kong.  The average income for happiness went as low as 86K in Germany, all the way up to 276K for Dubai (as if we should expect anything less from them and their fancy shaped islands)

After reading that article, which you can check out here, it got me thinking about my own life and the correlation between what I make and how happy I am.  Growing up in Iowa, I was actually not very frugal (mom and dad, you can vouch for that).  I had a part time job, but I never really understood the concept of saving money.  OK, I understood the concept, but I never put it into practice.  As if the majority of teenagers really understand the practicality of saving money for the future.  Admit it, if you’re reading this blog, you know I am right because you went through that phase.  But it begs the question:  What is it that creates such a huge relationship between money and happiness?

Is it the perception of power?  The idea of success?  The ability to blatantly disregard responsibility because you can pay your bail after deciding to ‘borrow’ a cop car for a joy ride?  I have no idea.  But I do know that no amount of money can tangibly define happiness.

I’ve found that just because you have money doesn’t mean you are living a healthy and fulfilling life.  I work at a restaurant where my personality is what I sell.  I don’t have a fixed income, and what I make is entirely dependent on the business we get every night.  It sucks sometimes.  You can have a week where you make $1000, and turn around and maybe make $200 the next week.  This job fluctuates so much that I have no choice but to attempt to save what I think will be necessary.  Now, that doesn’t stop me from going out and doing stupid stuff with what I make.  I like to call those times ‘Risk-Assessed Impulse Decisions’, or RAIDs.  These decisions to say 'Yes' have led to some of the greatest adventures and memories in my life.  And even though I make less in a year what Albert Pujols makes in one game, I can honesty tell you that I am happy with my lifestyle and living situation.

It all comes down to the experiences and adventures that define how you have lived.  Granted, if you are well off, it makes it easier to go out and have those experiences that can create truly legendary memories.  But clothes wear out over time.  Vacations will always come to an end.  Your job can be taken away from you in a heartbeat.  But a person’s ability to appreciate what they have is what makes their life a truly happy one.

I was having this conversation with my roommate a few days ago about what amount we would need to make to feel happy and content.  Both him and I agreed that if it were in the range of 30K annually, it would be ideal.  Granted, we’re both single guys living in a cheap basement apartment in a new city where the price of everything is higher than what we grew up with.  But really, if you think about it, why is the idea of having so much more cash at hand a driving force behind the way society behaves?  You don’t need to have the newest car, the most technologically advanced phone, or even be on the VIP list at the Signature Room at the top of the Hancock Building to have a sense of self worth.  Granted, those are nice amenities to be able to afford, but they are not make or break experiences for life.

My friend Ryan is the embodiment of being happy with no money.  The guy has spent his time since graduating college living the stereotypical bohemian experience.  He has travelled to both coasts, has couch crashed for months on end, carries his possessions in 3 bags, plays guitar on the street to pay his bills, but I honestly have never seen the guy upset.  His blog is called $16 Dollars A Day for a reason; read that story here.  But he not only is never-endingly happy, but makes all those around him exponentially more cheerful.  It’s a quality that is completely intangible, and one that no amount of money can ever buy.

That ability to look past the superfluous need of having a large income is a rarity in today’s society.  We value progress and hard work, but usually at the cost of looking to increase our net worth in order to feel happy.  It’s not necessary, and not healthy.  Each person will have their own balance between the work they do to get paid, and the quality of life that allows them to feel happy.  So you have to ask yourself: how much are you willing to spend on your own happiness?

*What amount do you feel is the perfect amount to balance your income and your happiness?  Feel free to post in the comment section below*

My Week of No Vices

I have no idea why I got this idea in my head.  Maybe it was because I was getting tired of the same after work activities I’ve engaged in since I started at Rock Bottom.  Maybe I wanted a reason to keep myself engaged in my writing with some fun challenge.  Maybe I was sick of the way I kept waking up tired, hung over, and physically drained.  Maybe I was just bored.  Regardless, I decided that in order to counteract the lifestyle I’d fallen into of drinking after work, smoking while drinking, and spending money I knew I should be saving, I have decided to give up all my vices for one week.  Not just alcohol or tobacco mind you.  I mean ALL the major vices I subject my desires to: alcohol, tobacco, sex, fast food, masturbation, laziness, I’m sure there are a few things in there that can be considered vices, but these 6 are the main ones that have been constant themes in my life for the past few years.  Now I have no idea if/how this week of purity will affect me, but I will be chronicling the details of each day in a running diary of sorts.  Wish me luck, and see you on the other side.

Day 1:  Detox

I wake up thirsty as hell, tired as hell, but surprisingly not hung over.  Last night, I had the great idea of getting drunk since I knew I was going to be going a week with out alcohol.  Stupid decisions: story of my life.  I lay in bed for a few moments randomly texting people, looking at what I had said last night, and realize how cheesy I sound when I think I come off as charming.  Alcohol does that.

At noon, my friend Gigi asks me if I want to go to Portillos, which is an awesome food court style restaurant in downtown Chicago.  Here is the transcript:

            Gigi:  Hey what are you up to?

Me:  Just chilling at home.  What’s up?

Gigi:  I wanted to go to Portillos and need a buddy.  Want to come?

Me:  Dude, I totally would but I swore off fast food for the week. No vices include drinking, smoking, sex, fast food. Basically everything that makes my life go.

Gigi:  Ooo man! But Portillos is bomb! And it has salads and good stuff for you. I mean it’s more of a restaurant lmao





Me:  Lol, truth.  And I know, its soooooo good.  But I really am going to have to pass :(  This convo is totally going in my blog next week after this no vices thing is over.

Two hours in, and I already have to turn down something.  I have a feeling this is going to be a much longer week than I anticipated.

My first craving for a smoke hits me around 2pm.  No big deal, I can suppress it, I’ve done it before.  I make lunch, read, write, and get ready for work.  I head to the train at 5, at which point my routine dictates I have a cigarette.  Not this time.  I’ve left them at home where I will not be tempted to light one up, and feign forgetfulness or stress.  If I’m doing this whole week without vices, then damnit, I am not going to cut corners.

I make it to the train just fine.  Sweet, I can do this.  As I get off the train some 30 minutes later, I stop into Chipotle for dinner.  I’m still in recovery mode from the night before and I need some real food before working.  Now, Chipotle is not falling into the fast food vice category for two reasons:

1.              There’s no drive through window

2.              They legitimately use high quality ingredients, not prepackaged mystery meat with saw dust in it.

Now eating at Chipotle will not be turning into a regular thing this week.  Otherwise it would be reduced to something I depend on, which for all intents and purposes, is my definition of a vice.  So I go through work and it’s quite busy in comparison to the previous few days.  I’m going about it all just fine, when someone makes a mention of a smoke break.  Fuck.  There goes my resolve and concentration.  Now I am just thinking about how good a quick smoke sounds.  But I tell myself I can’t.  I’m not going to wimp out after less than 24 hours of starting this challenge.

Now a few people from work whom I mention this challenge to think it’s admirable.  They say how they have done it before with one of theirs.  I think drinking at work was a major one.  But they kept their smoking vice.  Sorry, I’m not playing that game.  As much as I want to go outside while waiting for these fucking Brits to pay their tab, I want to prove to myself that I can do this.

So I’m done with work, and as per routine, I usually stay at Rock Bottom to grab a beer or two.  It’s a good way to unwind, converse with my co-workers, and just chill out in general.  Well, guess who is pissed about the fact that not only is he not allowed to have a beer here, but also he can’t have one after he gets home?!  If you guessed this guy, you would be correct.  This is so stupid, I tell myself.  Why did I make such an idiotic decision to give up EVERY SINGLE VICE at once?  Well, hopefully by the end of the week, I’ll have an answer to that question.

Day 2:  Remorse

I think I’ve realized a problem that I have only suspected, but never realized to be true: I rely on alcohol to help me stay asleep.  No, this is not something I’m proud of, and makes me think I may be slightly alcoholic.  I woke up this morning at 9, and was simply uncomfortable as all hell.  I remember laying in bed at 2 last night, trying to fall asleep, absolutely could not, and maybe got there around 3.  Normally when I come home from work, I simply go to bed and I am asleep within five minutes.  Now it’s taking me an hour to get there?  Fingers crossed this week will help me counteract this reliance.

So the day has gone smoothly enough.  I go on a walk to deposit my cash from work, over to CVS for a CTA card, and down to Target to get some jeans.  This entire trek runs about two miles round trip, where over the course of this walk, I can usually get three, maybe four smokes through me.  I manage to get through my errands with only minimal instances of wanting.  I’m damn proud of myself.  It’s been a while since I’ve gone this long with our smoking.  Maybe I’ll make it through this week after all.

3pm rolls around.  I am PISSED!  I tried to wash my jeans I bought this morning before I went in to work.  Lo and behold, the dryer isn’t working.  I had put them through a second time to see if maybe I just had the dial on the wrong setting.  Nope, the dryer is officially broken, and I’m left with a wet pair of jeans.  I settle on a secondary pair that isn’t exactly up to code at Rock Bottom, but they can’t say I didn’t try.  I need a smoke, or a shot.  Something to calm me down.  But then I decide that instead of trying to bury that frustration with tobacco and alcohol, I might as well just be proactive about it.  So I get my clothes out of the dryer, place them on clothes hangers/my laundry basket/my keyboard stand, bring out my fan, and dry them the old fashioned way.  Success.

I get to work, and even though I’m having a decent enough night, the urge to have a cigarette is a lot more intense than last night.  What’s worse is that some of my co-workers are trying to get me to break my fast and have a drink with them after work.  In the words of R Kelly, ‘My mind’s telling me no, but my body is telling me yes.’  Sorry guys.  As much as I want to shake this off, I just can’t fail myself.

In a bit of a side bet with myself, I decided earlier on the train ride to Rock Bottom that I wasn’t going to leave work as soon as I was done tonight.  Removing yourself from temptation is just a cop-out; you don’t have to deal with the immediate impulses of your vices.  No, I’m going into the lions den: the bar area after work where my co-workers are enjoying a cold, post-shift beer.  I hate them all so much, as they taunt me every once in a while with their pint glasses, as I sit there sipping on my ice water.  But as time progresses, I come to a realization.  Just because I’m not DRINKING with the group doesn’t mean I’m not drinking WITH the group.  I’m still talking just as I would as if I had a beer in my hand.  Don’t get me wrong, alcohol is a great way to break the ice when you first meet people, but you don’t need to continue to use it as a social lubricant.  If you make a connection with someone, why would you consider alcohol a necessity in order to interact with them in the future?

I leave the bar after a while, confident in my victory.  I have triumphed over one of the main hurdles in this quest.  I’ve conquered not only my ability to enjoy hanging out at a bar with out consuming alcohol, but I’ve also stared my peers in the face, and despite their bartering and pleading, I stood my ground.  Wow, this confidence is definitely not something I expected to gain from this.  I wonder what other surprises are in store for me this week?

Day 3:  Bargaining

So I’m finally learning to curb my cravings for beer and tobacco.  It’s an interesting feeling to say the least.  One, I am waking up more rested physically and mentally.  Granted last night, I still was tossing and turning all night, and took a while to get to sleep, but progress is progress.  I don’t really have any errands to do this morning/afternoon before work, so I think making some breakfast sounds good.  I’ve been subjecting myself to the same cereal/oatmeal/nothing breakfast for quite a few weeks, but today I’m making eggs and coffee.  It’s weird to say, but even with this being one of the first things I’m doing in the day, I have this great sense of accomplishment already.

Breakfast is had, the afternoon begins, and I decide to write a little bit.  I don’t get very far when I get a call from my GM at Rock Bottom.  They’re getting absolutely slammed and he is wondering if I can come in.  He will even ‘buy’ my dinner, aka, comp what ever it is I decide to eat.  I don’t have anything else planned until I leave for work, so sure, I’ll be there in an hour.  I get just the slightest urge to have a smoke on the way to the train, but it’s nowhere near as bad as the first few days.  Progress is happening I can tell!

I get to work and the place is packed.  I mean I haven’t seen this many people in a restaurant on a Saturday afternoon since Justin Bieber was in town.  So I hop right into the fire, bussing tables, running food, starting to take drink orders, the usual stuff that happens at shift change.  It’s constant running around, but I notice I’m still not dying for a smoke break, even when it starts to calm down around 10:30.  This is great I tell myself.  I’m almost done, I’ll get my meal, and it will be a satisfying conclusion to a satisfying day.  But lo and behold, it isn’t that simple.

My friend Gigi asked earlier if I wanted to split some Mac and Cheese with her (Rock Bottoms is to die for, by the way), and I told her no.  She thought I was saying no because I had given up going out to eat.  I corrected her by saying I had given up fast food.  She says I’m a hypocrite.  I tell her to shut up.  But it brings up a good point: am I substituting all these harmful vices (smoking, drinking, etc.) for a more socially acceptable one (eating out)?

Now, if I hadn’t been offered a free meal from my boss, I would have just had a couple glasses of water at the bar to reinforce the lesson I was practicing yesterday, and gone home.  But I’m not spending any money on this meal.  It was a gift, so I will use it.  My apartment isn’t quite stocked like my mom’s pantry, so a large meal like this is more than welcome.  I operate on a scant enough diet as it is, usually consisting of cereal, juice, tortilla chips, and beer (from which usually accounts for half my daily caloric intake).

Eating out isn’t necessarily a bad thing when it’s done in moderation, as is anything.  A rocket scientist isn’t needed to figure that out; it’s just fucking common sense.  So even though you can consider eating at a restaurant a vice, the times I do are few and far between in the first place, so you cannot really say that I rely on it.

But as I sit here typing, I’ve immediately gone from semi-sleepy to super-pissed because I tried to pick up a shift at work tomorrow, and in the minute between when the shift was posted and I tried to pick it up, someone else snagged it.  Motherfucker!  This is normally a cigarette break considering I know I won’t have to go into work tomorrow, but instead, I’m going to take a drink of water, lay down, and think about ways for her to be miserable at work tomorrow while I’m enjoying my day off.  I haven’t experienced this kind of mental clarity before bed in quite some time.

Day 4:  Reflection

Well I’ve made it halfway.  The dire wants and urges to break my fast are recurring much less than a few days ago, and it’s reassuring to know that I am making a positive difference for not just myself, but for my roommate who decided to embark on this challenge with he.  He’s my accountabili-buddy.

So I have the day off today, and really don’t plan on doing anything but watching football, keeping track of my fantasy teams, and maybe shooting off a couple theatre related e-mails.  But those were my thoughts before I checked my e-mail in the morning.  There’s a shift available at work.  I don’t have any plans for the evening, so why not?  Plus, my Vikings were playing in the morning, so I really don’t have that much of a vested interest in the afternoon games, aside from fantasy purposes.

Work goes about as well as can be expected for a Sunday night, and I’m done by 9pm.  I decide to engage my co-workers at the bar, which I’ve noticed has been made much easier by my acceptance of water as opposed to beer as my drink of choice.  Now, I find out that a few people at work still have not been informed about my week long hiatus from my vices, and I once again go about explaining it to them.  Little did I know that my challenge of just one week would be put to shame.  Big time.

My co-worker Jamie, upon being informed that I was giving up booze, tobacco, and sex, dropped this nugget that blew my mind:

“I once went 2 years and 7 months without sex.”

For some people, this might not be the mind-blowing quote that it was to me.  If you’re 22, wear glasses, carry around an Advanced Particle Physics book at all times, and got laid when you were 21 because the girl was equally as desperate as you, two and a half years isn’t out of the question.  But Jamie is nothing like that.  She’s probably 5’ 10”, blond hair, blue eyes, fair skin, Chicago born and raised, models, and is one of the most legitimate and welcoming people you have ever met.  That's not to say she’s a prude.  She may come off sweet and innocent at first, but have a five-minute conversation with this girl, and you’ll realize she’s just like one of the guys as far as her filter and her humor.  So for this girl to say she had gone two and a half years without sex was unbelievable.  I asked her why, to which she responded:

“It was a test of my will and I just didn’t see the point in worrying about it.”

Talk about perspective.

Like most people, I love sex.  It’s not only instinctual, but is a healthy activity for the body, mind, and soul.  I looked it up, and one hour of sex is the equivalent of a 30-minute jog (click here for other activity comparisons).  I knew you burned calories during sex, but that comparison paints a pretty clear picture.

The last time I had sex was just after I moved to Chicago, so I have to admit I don’t know if I can consider sex a vice I’m giving up.  That’s not to say I haven’t been looking.  As I mentioned, it’s healthy and since I really haven’t had a chance to work out at a gym since I moved here, some under-the-covers cardio wouldn’t be turned down.  Maybe I will have to go to a club stone-sober in the next three days, try to get laid, and then write my summary of turning down getting laid to fully incorporate sex as a vice.  But for all the trouble that sex presents itself, I really haven’t been crippled by the lack of it.  Not this week, and not in the past two months.  It’s an extracurricular activity that doesn’t need to be there 24/7 for you to be ok.

As I get home tonight, my roommate has just gotten back from doing some laundry and said that he was noticing a difference in himself during this week of sobriety.

“When I self medicate, I find myself being pretty happy and can deal with all 
the bullshit that comes my way.  But now that I’m sober, I hate everything.”

I have also noticed a change in my demeanor, but not in the way my roommate has.  I have found myself to be considerably more clear-minded, willing, and motivated to get work done.  I still wonder from time to time why I decided to take up this burden, and I still can’t see past the day it will end.  But I’m becoming much more aware of how well I function as a cleaned up individual.  And to be honest, that scares the shit out of me.

Day 5:  The Turning Point

By now, a mere recapping of my day really isn’t all that interesting, both to myself in writing this or to you for reading this.  It continually gets easier to not engage in any of my vices, much the same way a marathon runner finds running a mile continually easier, or how Kim Kardashian finding a way to make it into the tabloids easier.  It just takes time, dedication, and will power.

Last night, I was sure I was going to be working this evening.  One of my co-workers messaged me, asked if I wanted to work, and I said yes.  I find out this morning that he has given it to someone else.  This doesn’t sit well with me.  I’m from a small town where your word is a promise, and if you say yes or no to something, you follow through with it.  I was pissed to say the least.  Thankfully, fate has decided to give me a freebie, and through a convoluted series of events, I am now working this evening.

As I tell my roommate this, he makes the remark that I have been working a lot lately.  And thinking about it, he’s right.  I have.  I have worked every single day since I’ve started this challenge.  And surprisingly, I am not burnt out about working five days in a row, with two more in the chamber.  I have just as much energy on the fifth day of work as I did the first day.

I am thankful my family raised me with a good work ethic.  And I am equally thankful for the job that I have and enjoy going to, when so many good people are without any sort of income.  I think it is the combination of these two blessings that make me such a good worker.  Now, I suck at interviews and building resumes because I hate heaping praise onto myself.  As oxymoronic as it sounds, I am a very humble person.  If you want to give me accolades, that's fine, but they sure as hell better be because my work has spoken for itself.  Whether it’s picking up shifts, coming in early, switching to a closing shift, it doesn’t matter for me.  I have this job and it’s my responsibility to do what is required to the best of my ability, not only because it benefits me monetarily, but also because that is what my employer expects of me.

When this week first started, one side effect I anticipated would happen, and many of my friends echoed this sentiment, is that my bank account would grow a considerable amount during this week.  And it is absolutely true.  Rather than being content with walking away from work with $50 a night (which is my Mendoza line to pay bills, rent, food, etc.), I am now rewarded with the satisfaction of knowing that I am keeping every single dollar I make.  I am not wasting it on needless consumables, especially when I’ve found out it is just as easy to enjoy a night at a bar without beer in your glass.

As I was hanging out with my friend Jamie after work at the bar, she posed this question:

“Why do people feel the need to drink?”

To which I answered:

“People drink to allow themselves an escape from their daily lives, by releasing their inhibitions and filters, which would normally keep them from saying and doing things that would be socially unacceptable if they were sober.”

Translation:  they feel alcohol allows them to be free.

I realize that this conversation is a little off topic considering everything I’m writing about today so far, but it has gotten me thinking: why can’t people simply be the same person sober as they are when they’re drunk?  Don’t get me wrong, my cajones grow twice their size when I drink, but I’m still the same social, outgoing, friendly person sober as I am when I’m drunk.  And in lieu of that, maybe that’s one reason I have written about this conversation.  It's my hope that maybe people will read about my experiences, and will inspire them to realize that they don’t need to drink or smoke to be seen as social.  And it's my belief that every person has that ability as long as they are willing to put themselves out there in a vulnerable place, whether they may like it or not.

Day 6:  Reconstruction

It’s been six days since I’ve started this no vice challenge, and I have to say, I don’t know what the future is going to hold for me after tomorrow.  Every day has been a strengthening of spirit and will, and I have to say, it’s a great feeling.  By this time, I think I have touched on all my major vices I set out to counteract this week.  And with the end in sight, only 24 hours away, I feel like a kid on Christmas Eve.  I can’t wait until the end of work tomorrow when I am able to finally enjoy a beer guilt free.  Yet there is one question I have raised to myself: what am I going to do after this self-imposed exile is over?

I thought my roommate was going to hold up with me through all seven days.  Sadly, he broke down yesterday, saying that five days was an adequate enough time to engage in such a challenge.  Now, he wasn’t chronicling this week in the way that I have, so I’ll allow him to part ways sooner than myself.  Slacker.

Seeing how the week is almost over, I’m finding how completely arbitrary doing this for one week is.  The fact that I set this challenge for only seven days is pointless.  What is the reason for setting a time limit on something that ultimately doesn’t need one?  There are people in my life who have stopped smoking cold turkey and are still going strong.  My uncle stopped drinking before I was born, and is still sober, 27 years later.

You don’t need to set a time limit for things in life.  If you really want to accomplish something, choose what you want to change and just do it.  I’ve discovered that it’s really a matter of will power when facing a challenge like the one I have undertaken this week.  Unlike some people, there was no life altering event or change that made me want to eliminate all these vices for a week.  I just wanted to see if I could do it.  To prove to myself that my will power is stronger than what I imagined it to be.

Now to answer the question I posed earlier, the only conclusion I can think of is: I don’t know.  Will I go back to those vices?  Almost certainly.  Will I find new ones?  Probably.  But will I allow my life to be dictated by them, as I suspected was starting to happen when I began the week?  Absolutely not.

Every person is unique in the decisions they make, the adventures they go on, and ultimately the life they live.  I can say that this week has given me a great perspective on not only how grateful I am for the life I have, but that I am in control of my life a lot more than I previously thought.  And as small as that realization may be, it’s a win in my book all the same.

Day 7:  Acceptance

It’s finally arrived.  My last day of celibacy, so to speak.  But instead of waking up with the notion that today will be balloons and confetti and a possible parade, it’s about the most anti-climactic feeling you could imagine.  I’m not getting on a plane to be taken back home from Iraq.  I’m not walking down the aisle getting married to the woman of my dreams.  I’m not even finishing a 5K.  I’m just going through another day in the life of Rick Adams, the 27 year-old actor from Iowa.

Oddly enough, I don’t have this urge to drink to the point where I could be confused with an Irishman on St. Patty’s day.  Or smoke enough that I would put an Iroquois long house to shame.  Or have so much sex that Californication should be recast with me instead of David Duchovny.  No, I am honestly just looking forward to having a cold beer after work with my co-workers.  It’s something seemingly so small, and insignificant that I’m surprised at how nonchalant I am about the whole thing.

If there has been anything I’ve come to realize about this week, it’s this: I don’t need these vices to survive, but they sure are nice to have.  If you want a drink, get a drink.  If you want to get laid, find a college bar and work your magic.  But you have a choice when it comes to your vices, and you can choose to act on them, or simply ignore them.

It seems so simple to say, but the lesson I have come away with from this week is that we all have a choice.  For me, the key to a happy life includes the ability to choose when and where to act upon my vices.  The problem arises when those vices overpower the attributes that make me a good person.  As I have proved this week, it’s entirely possible to live a rich, fulfilling, and engaging life even without your vices.  But I have to admit, having them makes life much more interesting.

After work tonight, I went to the bar, smile on my face, and ordered my usual White Ale from the bartender.  As I sat there, taking a sip of alcohol for the first time in a week, a single thought crept through my mind.  That thought?

“This tastes like my first day of college.”

I was doing the math, and I think the last time I had gone a week without a single vice was 2004.  That’s all the way back to when I started junior college eight years ago.  Wow.  Sometimes I even surprise myself.  But that's the great thing about life.  It's always going to be full of surprises that you never see coming.  And that's how it should be, because once you make the choices that lead to those experiences, there's no going back.

In those eight years that have been full of vice, I have had great times, crappy experiences, a couple epic adventures, and a lifetime of memories.  And after today, I can add one more thing to my life’s scrapbook: My Week of No Vices.