Gaiman’s View of Success

I watched a commencement address from one of my favorite authors. It is actually an old speech and honestly it is funny to say Gaiman is one of my favorite authors, because I have only read one of his books. I have always found him to be fascinating though, and I love to read the blog he keeps. A friend who knows that I admire Gaiman, sent me this video, and it quite possibly made my week. Gaiman has such a way with words-and story telling, like any imaginative and word lover would. I think it is a inspiring speech, whether you consider yourself an artist, a wanna be artist, or for any field you may be going into. I wish I could memorize this speech, and pull out quotes when they are needed. Two parts are especially wonderful, where he lays out three traits one must have to succeed…and then demonstrates how two out of the three are really all that is needed (ANY two out of the three). How he verbally demonstrates how to face both fear of failure and mistakes-and the the fear of success and it’s own failures. The ending statement “be wise, for the world needs wisdom..and if you dont think yourself wise pretend to be someone who is and act in the way you think they would” the ultimate “fake it till you make it”. It is uplifting and fitting for my “Appreciation of the Arts” blog and I share it for everyone who is looking to get closer to the mountain in which they desire to climb, and for those who have already made it part way up the mountain and sometimes feel like a fraud. We all need like minded voices who say “enjoy this”.



August 24, 2013 · 4:46 am

Shocking! FBI finds no evidence Zimmerman’s a racist!

I really shouldn’t get into this but the more I find out and the more that is written (only by blogging and free thinking people) the more it becomes clear that we have been duped. No, I don’t think that justice was fully served-but then none of us were there. One thing is for certain, Zimmerman has been misrepresented by all of the media…all of it. Another thing is for certain, all the powers of authority that be, have been using this case as a pawn to stir emotions and drive an agenda. We better pay attention and pray for the peace of this country to exist. Google “the truth about Zimmerman” and there is ample back up, the hispanic male did allot of foot work for the Obama campaign and now he is being lynched in character by the President himself. The DOJ has a special email for the good citizens of America to send in tips on how to further this case so justice is served? REALLY? This is too much, I need a vacation. I’m going to start playing video games and hiding out on a imaginary island.

Shocking! FBI finds no evidence Zimmerman’s a racist!.

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The Bartender’s View

 A few weeks ago, I found one of the funniest video’s I had seen in a while. See below for “Sh** People Say to Bartender’s”

and laugh with me..or at yourself if you have ever asked for a “FUUNN DRINK…For REAALLZZ”

  I work at a Country Club,so the clientele is pretty much the same people day in and day out. Except for weekends like the one I just finished where the young members (between 24ish to five years older than me) bring their guests and they pay a fee for open bar and golf all weekend. Fun times…fun times….We the bartenders get to watch them binge drink the night before the game and then give them Bloody Mary’s at six a.m. and all the beer they can drink on the golf course. When the games are over they hit the pool…and clear out whatever is left at the pool bar. Even though it is a different sort of atmosphere then a pub or a bar, the experience provided to the paying party is the same, just in a more posh environment. The girls talk the same, from the time they are ten until they are …however old they get continuing to talk like Kim Kardashian. Sometimes it is more than my ears can stand.

  “Can I getttt a Orange Crushh”?(ten year old)

  “Can I gett….do you havvvv cranberry?? OH FUNNNN, can I get a vodka cranbarry?”
  The tones and added vowel sounds cannot be typed out but any reality show featuring heiresses or uptown girls or valley girls has the same voice. It is like they cookie cut themselves to look alike and somehow in some form of weird osmosis they acquired the same voice. 
  Then there are the medical school reunions or award ceremonies. Ever hear the bar joke that starts “a sailor, a soldier and an airman walk into a bar”? Well I have actually seen that happen…on two occasions. The same event every year. A marine officer, naval officer, and an army officer. The interesting things never really come from them, they just do what they do-flirt and use their super polished manliness to get us to make drinks that we are actually not supposed to make at the country club…and of course we do it. “Honey, I’m serving my country here, you mean I cant get a scotch neat…I wont tell *wink*. A girl would have to be a stone to not give the man his drink. It’s the wives…or girlfriends or fiance’s of those men that always cause the scene. they get drunker,louder and overall just obnoxious while the men are in their circle probably insulting each others branches. I often wonder what exactly is holding those relationships together, then I see the women dancing together in curious ways and I shut my mind down in order to not ponder the thought a second longer.

   Diet Coke. The only non alcoholic drink that the place would fold without. I hear them discuss how it has been proven that aspartame kills, causing Alzheimer, cancer and the like but please give them ten more and their children too…cant have those calories…

Calories…need a fun drink, without too many calories, not allot of juice there are too many calories. Can you make a “skinny” drink? Do you have “Skinny Girl” vodka? The boss finally gets Skinny Girl but he only gets the tangerine flavored for some reason.
 You cut yourself on something every day…opening champagne, opening Grey Goose (aluminum foil wrapper cuts), wine opener cuts-or stabs. If you have natural nails, you cant grow them too long you might lose one painfully after opening five hundred beers at a wedding or ball. Alcohol and soda spill on your hands all the time also dries them out no matter how much lotion you use. I had to break my life long trend of just having great nails and shamefully subjected to paying for a manicure once a couple of months ago. 

   Polishing glasses for the night shift because they pretty much refuse to. I polished glasses for three hours today. The budget wont allow for one of those bar glass steamers that would cut the time to a minimum of…um…never heaving to polish glass wear again..but year after year management tells me we cant have one, yet they come and find water spots on glasses and sigh in desperation…I just stare off in the distance and act like they are invisible. Hey at least I am the bartender that does the glasses..otherwise you would be forced to get a glass cleaner right?

  Then there are the monotonous things that we hear. Every day. “You guys are so great” Thanks you are awesommmmmeee” “What do you have that’s good? “Can I see your wine list? (then they order a wine that they order all the time anyway) “Do you have a drink list?” (Then they order a vodka tonic..the staple of the club). People also have the perception that a bartender gets trashed every weekend. You know,,,because that is how we keep our jobs as responsible bartenders…by getting trashed all the time. If anything, as a bartender my whole perception of alcohol and getting drunk and the “fun” therein is tainted because of my job. As a bartender who sits through classes on how to perceive if someone is intoxicated, and how to slow the process of intoxication and the measures to take if someone IS intoxicated, I very rarely can say that I have actually been intoxicated. As a person who bar-tends for a living, I generally drink wine maybe one-three glasses, after a hot bath at the end of one of these long weekends, only that much if I’m not working. I have only been “out” for drinks three times with my girl friends. Even then, there is that moment that I internally know..if I have one more I will be sick…and I hate being sick. We know the tricks to keep from getting sick. Take a break from the drinks, and drink water for a while. Bar nuts, pretzels etc. If you haven’t drunk an enormous amount, eat something. If you plan on getting drunk don’t drive and again…drink water through the night and you might just wake up with a head ache and dehydration for days after but you wont be hugging the porcelain god the next morning. If you are out with people you don’t know well enough to know how they hold their liquor..don’t drink just watch might have to drive (or maybe that’s just me). Maybe the job of bar tending makes getting “trashed” not seem like all that much fun, we don’t want to look like silly or ridiculous like some of what we see. All though, I have not had to deal with a bar brawl or some of the things I have seen outside of the bubble of the country club scene, where every one is a professional drinker and sometimes I don’t know how they can walk out of the building alive, I have seen intoxication and people oblivious to their surroundings. Once we were hosting and bar tending a non member party, an old man fell and likely broke his hip. People walked around him and the medics to get to the bar. I shut the bar down. 

A side note here…
 A recovering alcoholic told me that alcohol was an amplifier. It is. I don’t know how some people numb or drown their sorrows or regrets with it. I tried that but it didn’t work. Anything you try to forget just gets louder. If I was embarrassed or hurt then whatever had embarrassed me just replayed in my mind…over and over. If I tried to stifle an emotion than that emotion just came out louder. If I just wanted the thoughts in my head to be quiet..they just got louder and found their way to be expressed to people who really did not care to know, and who might have lost respect for me. Never write someone dear to you a drunk email…it might ensure you never see that person again. Thank God that I am not prone to alcoholism, two drinks is really all I can handle and that is the truth. Getting drunk to forget you are sad only makes you sadder. Getting drunk when you are happy just makes you obnoxious.That is what I see too, if people are happy they get happier and they love you (the bartender) If they want to get drunk and that is their goal -they have a mission and just keep coming to you. Once a man was so intoxicated I gave him plain soda water and lime for the rest of the night. He was so drunk he didn’t notice and he kept telling me how awesome I was. That actually was kind of funny.

     Being a bartender is not to be taken lightly, and it’s not a super fun job. We aren’t all rock stars, and in Alabama with all its archaic rules that have nothing to do with preventing intoxication, it can be stressful. Some think that it must be awesome because they think that “I don’t have to do the same thing every day”. Yes I do. See video above. People are the same everywhere.In my environment I often think of the Miranda Lambert song “Only Prettier”, in all honesty some people may hate my thick southern dialect, and given that I work in the end of service industry that is catering to people who HAVE more. I could be anywhere, and they are just having their escape from their monotony…(all though they ARE at the club almost every day) Every job has its monotony. So without further ado, I’m off to have my second Captain and Coke (spiced). Here is to the moments in this year that were not monotonous and to the people who made that so. You know who you are.


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Stand in the Rain

Stand In The Rain

I was out of cigarettes today. It is that time of the week where I am counting the hours until my paycheck comes in…”OK I have enough gas to last until Friday morning”. The embarrassment of it all. Only smokers can relate to the remainder of the day. OK I have been without all day, I can make it till Friday-heck if I make it till Friday, I can just keep going and quit. I HAVE done it before. Twice I have truly quit-for up to four years the first time, and one year the second time. I KNOW how to quit. Yoga and juice and listed reminder of the reasons to quit…that was the first time. The second time was sheer will power, along with my list of reminders. This time I know all the reasons, I don’t need a reminder, yoga is frequent part of my life (though not for several months now, I am just scrawny with no muscle tone) and I just really am not in the mood for exerting that kind of will power. I have determined that the next time I quit smoking, it will be with the e-cigarette. Many, many people I know have unintentionally quit using e-cigarettes. It is just water vapor and nicotine. It satisfies the nicotine craving, but that is all. There is no head rush that follows a drag after not having a cigarette all day. I have used one for up to a week and the cravings left, but then when I had ten dollars and needed more than an e-cigarette from the store, opted for the carbon monoxide poison sticks. Point being…I am gonna quit and I know how…just not today :) . I remembered that I have to navigate to the courthouse side of town EARLY in the morning for a test…in fact I have to study for that tonight. This is not the night to quit. So…I did what broke smokers do…I dug for change. I even had some gold dollar coins and then the wanna be investor in me said “That is GOLD stupid”, so I took the six bucks worth of quarters and nickels and went to the store for some cheap BASICS which I have not smoked in about eleven years, and got a single role of toilet paper. Yeah…definitely that time of the week. I was about to have a one of my self hating moments, when memories of counting change and being broke and miserable over a decade ago haunts me”…you are a loser -you aint no better than a loser, your brother buys you lunch and you dig for change for your cigarettes.

It had rained suddenly and forcefully before I had left. Lightening and thunder, the whole works, with flash flood warnings all over the place. It was so fierce that I had unplugged everything. It was the sexy kind of rain. I don’t know why. I’m weird like that. There are different kinds of rain. The aggravating drip dripping kind that doesn’t do anything but mist your windshield enough to turn the wipers on. Then there is the dreary depressing kind, which is just above the rain forecast that never actually happens. Then there is the kind that lets loose and if it isn’t lightening you want to play in it. If it is you wanna curl up with your guy somewhere…ok so that is another blog but you get the picture.

When I got back to my building I lit up under the awning over the back door and watched the sky. I thought of my state of affairs and how I had not progressed a whole lot in life. I will be thirty one in two months. A voice came to my head that said “you ain’t no different, you ARE special -but you ain’t no different”. A good man and mentor in my life for years, said that to me just last week. I think he was saying that I am not above pain or heart break, I’m not above giving into my demons or reacting in ways that I shouldn’t. But someone who loved me would accept that about me. Watching the rain, I equated the saying to the old saying “it rains on us all” (or something like that) and I accepted about myself. Everybody has their demons, every body has their weaknesses and makes their mistakes. I do too. I finished my cigarette and stood in the rain and subsiding thunder. It felt crisp and more refreshing than a shower. We all have rain in our lives, and just like we have to face ourselves-cause ain’t none of us so different that we are not affected, or infected-we sometimes can stand in the rain. I stood in the sexy rain ;) . If one solitary person doesn’t think I’m worth seeing through the rain…well somebody else will think I am. Because I ain’t so different that I don’t have it, but I am special enough to stand in it with.

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The moment

“The moment you cry out to The Lord, your life will change”
I made myself go to a small group meeting with my pastor in Birmingham. At this point in this year I was feeling like a real phony and didn’t want to go. It’s been one of those rough spots. When you forget who you are and where you are going and why you are going there. While others simply and quickly make peace with themselves and for some reason you can’t and you feel like a fool. A real and true blue moron. I was sure walking in the pastor knows I’m a fool. The people around me probably know it. Heck with my work schedule there is no thing what they think when I walk in ” oh she is making her MONTHLY visit to church. Today the topic of the sermon was freedom… Independence Day is this week after all. Pastor Mike makes a visual as only he can… How when he gets to Heaven he hopes God will just take the top off the world so he can see the parts on the inside no one has seen. How he hopes God will let him walk in the bottom of the ocean- after all he will be in Heaven right so he could breathe down there! The things only God has seen…
He went on in his demonstration that even we as Christians get into places where we are not truly free. We pray and feel nothing, we go to the alter and say yes I’m sanctified but we know we aren’t … And then we leave. We leave because we can’t bear to wear the face saying that we are. We live in our own dungeons in our own chains that we are afraid to take off. There was already a sacrifice there was already freedom given to us, but we somehow think its too much… or too little for God to care for. He told a story about a man he knew who couldn’t stop drinking and whatever else he was doing. This man had one of those ” ok God if you are real” moments and was physically set free from his addictions. He related this story to be as anything else in our lives …God doesn’t differentiate the substance addictions from the anxiety ridden or despair burdened. We all want or need forgiveness – for something or from someone. Maybe even from ourselves.
I sat there knowing he was speaking the truth. I have accepted anxiety, fear and general self loathing for months now. I have made a moron of myself and became someone I never knew I could be. Deep remorse settled in me and turned to guilt … And the various ways I have tried to numb the pain hasn’t helped they just created symptoms in other areas of my life. CRYING?….someone make it stop!!! So drink something so you will sleep… Still no sleep. Spend…get a makeover…just make it stop. Just feel better…feel normal. Normal… Over sleep and come to work looking a wreck and further feel like a fool. Pray. God doesn’t care about this you are the one who messed up you have to fix it, take responsibility and stop “accepting” the depression. That’s what your psyche book for school says. By the way you are gonna make a crap counselor you fool, look at yourself you screwed your own life up, singlehanded in a matter of three months. What is WRONG with you??
I sat there thinking of the past few months and all the ways I had analyzed and strategized my life and I just got tired. “I’m tired”I thought … How did I get here? I’m a smart person – known for doing the right thing .. The best thing. The example … The older child. “I’m tired…and its ok…I’m screwed and its ok…thats what it takes sometimes for us to remember that we were never in control to begin with”. I cried and prayed on the back row at the end of the service and left as soon as it was over, but not before Pastor Mike invited me to small group tonight. I told him I would come but I was internally debating on whether I would make it or not.
I made it. I drove thirty minutes to a town I never have visited and watched a video on prayer. The testimony from a member of Brooklyn Tabernacle about a hairdresser who made thousands of dollars a day and lost his job on moral grounds ( drugs) and cut up all his documents and lived on the street, his sole reason for living was heroine and he nearly died. He went to an ER and had been hearing voices for months. In the middle of the voices that had plagued him he had a memory of another voice, one of a model who he worked with who told him ” the moment you cry out to God will change your life”. He did cry out, it may have been quietly but the voices stopped and his life changed. His heart changed and he went through rehab and gave his life to Christ. The voices never came back.
God makes no distinction between who he rescues… But He does wait for us to cry out. Sometimes I think it is harder for the ones who claim to be Christian to admit they need Him and to cry out. After all, we are the ones who know He has the world in His hands. It is hard because we already know that He sees everything – like the caverns in the earth that no one has seen. He sees what we are depending on other than Him to get by. He sees the longings and desires we have that we hide. He sees the depth of despair we are in when we are forgotten or hurt or ignored and we just want the pain to stop. He sees the way we proverbially duct tape our lives into place and smile and say that we are fine. In other words- no matter what chain it is… He already knows. I reached out for prayer tonight and it was an humbling thing to do. I didn’t give details there is not allot of need for it. Just knowing there are people who have your back in prayer. I realized that I don’t owe anyone the face I’ve been playing. I’m not doing great and it’s ok that it is known. God already knows. I’m not fooling Him so why try to fool anyone else?
Moral of the story … It’s time for a reset and restore. Nothing is impossible. Prayer changes things, it really does. The moment we cry out.
This has been a personal account from a Christian blogger.

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Hey honey where you going?

I really should start a third blog. Not about art and poetry, and not about passion and politics. Just about the I random sequences of events that plague my single and thirty life. It might be humorous if I read it ten years from now.
I’m walking down the street… It’s around five and it’s bright and hot on a Birmingham Saturday. I’m going to chic filet to meet my brother who has arrived in the city two hours early, so he won’t be late for his date with my best friend. I’m hungry anyway and am used to walking in the heat… And the day light. Someone is parallel parked and I hear him out the window ” can I come widju?” Thinking he is yelling in a blu tooth I can’t see and won’t stop to investigate, I keep walking. A few feet further the nice red SUV is slowly riding parallel to my sidewalk … ” hey can I come wid u” … It is day time and still a good walk to my destination and thus is gonna get awkward… ” come with me where ??? ” wherever you going” the forty something black owner of the SUV replies. I keep walking ” I’m just going to meet my brother” yes there is another male close by dude so drive away… At a faster speed please- do I look like a game player? ” well I’ll come meet your brother too”…
” no thank you”
Well how bout dinner after you meet your brother?
” no thank you”
” I promise it’s a good deal”
” that’s alright no thanks”
” well how bout I give you my number you put it in your phone and call me when you want dinner… No string attached”
This would require stopping and walking closer to get said number… Do people really DO THIS???
” I… I have somebody, it’s alright thanks”. I heard a murmured discontent but non interpreted phrase.
” well… I tried”.
I was only half lying, the half that was truth was “No thanks”… I must say there are some either really brave souls or some really desperate hearts. From the moment of the attempted pick up I was thinking of an incident a few weeks back, the third day after I had given up my paid parking spot and took to parking in a lot across from the fancy restaurant close to my building. I went out one morning to leave from work and found a note on my car…


” tony bishop- call me”
I took the note to the land lord who had no idea who ” tony bishop” was and neither did I…. But heck if I’m calling him so he can have my number saved in his phone… Apparently he already has been watching me. Creepy. Or maybe I just think differently. No face name and number…. No name face wants to buy dinner.
Them there is the maintenance guy at my building who has suddenly tried to get brazen by suggesting a place for me to wear my ” new red white and blue bathing suit” …. Which he saw when he did some work in my apartment … While I was away. The plumbing was his job … Not taking notes of my apartment and then giving me “advice” but somehow he thought I would be pleased that he was … Um… *cough* concerned about where I would wear that thing. He also thought I would be amused that he missed seeing my truck in my former parking spot.
“But now I won’t know when you are here or not”
” maybe that’s a good thing” I retorted… My patience is wearing thin with this one. He is one more bitch look away from a report … I try to give people the benefit of the doubt. I really do, and I hate causing problems or drama. I really really do. Sometimes I wait too long to be sure a spade is a spade.
Point being, are all these men just the loudest guys in the room- hypothetically speaking. Or do they get more brazen with age and have zero to lose. It’s interesting from a study perspective, but down right scary when you are walking along minding your own in your own time – and in your own space.

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Weather Musings

It’s hot

Like step outside once and your hair mats,

step outside twice and you are also taking two showers today hot

Like three layers of clothing as a work uniform is cruel punishment hot

It’s hot like it only gets down here

Where it isn’t the heat, but the sticking hovering and smothering humidity

The humidity that people north of here don’t even understand

The cut the air with a machete and watch it separate with your own eyes hot
Where you inhale on your cigarette and exhale and the smoke just stays right in front of your face because there is NO BREEZE

Your eyes sweat

No use in wearing make up because it looks like you have face planted some soot by the end of the day.

The kind of southern heat that writes fantastic country songs about “bare foot blue jean nights” and dancing on Chevy beds…except I live in Birmingham and nobody has time for that kind of nonsense,they just congregate on the back step and discuss the heat-then go to a pub.

It is that time of year I set my air conditioning unit to 80 and the fan to high and pray to God that Alabama Power will look over it…because it is too hot to breathe on my twelfth  floor. The time of year where I have to be cold and wearing as little as possible in order to be able to sleep. Yeah, it is that kind of hot.
The wishing you had a perfect shade, an ice cold water all day long and no work because work makes you mad kind of heat. The heat that make you feel lethargic when you are still, and like you might die if you move too fast. The kind of heat that makes you jump in that nasty lake that your northern friends make fun of. Hey we are gonna shower off chlorine if we get in a pool, so whats the difference? Showering off is showering off.

So mix a drink of honeysuckle vodka, real lemonade and name it “it’s too damn hot for this”. Yeah…welcome to the south, sorry gentleman but all the southern belles have wilted, come back around December.

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