Heart Openers

PSY 121 was an important class. An undeclared Psychology major, I had looked forward to a serious introduction as long as I could remember. That's not what was waiting for me in Strong 001. I'm still praying that the class itself was some sort of experiment- the subject of which is so groundbreaking that it was worth the sacrifice of half of my respect for academia.

The hypothesis must have involved intrinsic motivation. Lectures were a stream of consciousness occasionally distracted by a set of unattractive PowerPoint slides and aggressively solicited class participation. The better received comments from my fellow students involved experiences with unprescribed pharmaceuticals.

In PSY 121 we learned that if one experiences a brain injury on the left hemisphere, one permanently looses the ability to see the right side of any room. We learned that schizophrenics see the world as a colorful abstract painting covered in eyeballs. We also learned that it was physically impossible to love another person until the age of twenty-five. I ended the semester with a grade of 141% after the optional final, and a declared course of study in a "more scientific field".

In the interest of popular positivism and with the aid of hindsight, I have convinced myself that a few hundred dollars bought a lesson in curiosity. In what sort of universe do I live in which THIS situation with THAT comb-over and THOSE cargo pants is possible? What made such an impression around the twenty-fifth year of this weirdo's life that he publicly deems all of humanity incapable of the most subjective emotional state until then... with academic authority?

A hopeless romantic, I kept that question in mind. What seems different about my relationship to other people at twenty-five? Have I finally aggregated enough challenges, failures, successes, betrayals, and recoveries to forge stubborn electro-chemical patterns of identity? Is calm more reflexive as my acceptance of the things that I like is no longer plagued by the value judgements of more desperate years? Effective choices are interpretations; so why should one human's choices ever threaten another human's capacity to do well?

The more people I meet- and given my occupation that can be a lot- the more my definition of love has evolved. My definition today? --An accessible undercurrent of respect for beliefs and opinions in the face of the uncertainties in life INCLUDING the interpretation of our actions and hearts by the people in it-- Sure it's not the emotional high I had been chasing since my first Disney movie, but it seems to me that something as universal as LOVE should not be an isolated event for anyone. I'm not claiming that this is an original idea, only sharing how I got back here. 

Every time I publish this blog, I experience anxiety. Prone to over-analysis, I imagine negative responses- mostly to my lack of tact or a youthful naivety. Submitting involves trusting that I am not alone in my curiosity and capacity to enjoy seeing myself in others. If you made it this far, I'm at least right about the curiosity thing. :)

Crow!!!

Joseph, a friend of mine and an amateur astrologer, shared critical moments with me over the last year along with candid descriptions of his own methods of understanding and experiencing his long life. From them came what little I know about the guitar, my alternative view of all medical knowledge I gained in undergrad and patient care, and an obsession with Normal Rockwell. He gave me wonderful art supplies he no longer has the sight to use and was the subject of my first portrait. He is the reason why I can use my continuing education to entertain imposters like popular media and conspiracy theories with a grain of Himalayan Crystal Salt. I will refrain from a more detailed description of my friend because he is still out there somewhere and would most likely prefer to remain as far "off-the-grid" as possible, but my twenty-fifth year, he predicts, is to come with blessings that rival some of the challenges of the last two. That forecast in mind- bring it on 25!

My father and stepmother will be vacationing over my birthday, so I welcomed an early well wishing for the "quarter-of-a-century-mark". It was the first reference to my own age that has ever produced a sensation of its relativity to death. I am far from preoccupied with my own mortality at this point, but I have noticed more of a motivation to cultivate skills of long term benefit. I have stuck with an exercise routine for about a month now; I feel healthier than ever, and I am determined to keep it that way. I'm pinning and attempting new recipes that reflect the kind of diet and culinary skills I would like to share with the rather functional family I project for my future self. I have a ton more to learn and even more strength to gain in just about every area of my life; focus and discipline are apparently the first of many hurdles, but little seems possible coming from a lethargic and toxic perspective.

The subject line refers to a basic yoga pose I considered hopelessly impossible until the moment it wasn't. It involves supporting my entire body weight with my arms. Granted, my body weight is relatively little, but my arms are relatively even littler, and my balance and coordination... I leave it to your imagination. BUT Yesterday I lifted one foot and then the other without falling on my head. I think that's the best we can hope for sometimes. Have a good day everybody.   

Happy Birthday Buddy and a Pleasant First Firday

It's been a while since the last update, but hopefully I will have a bit more content for this post. Last time I wrote, Grape Fest had ended. I had just finished throwing together my first studio, and was anxiously awaiting my first night receiving money for portraits. Since then I have really taken advantage of the flexibility afforded by a part time schedule at the winery. I have been on staff for a few events in addition to tasting room duties; As a result I feel much more productive and familiar, my wine knowledge is developing along with relationships with the great people with whom I work. The weather is finally cooling down and becoming much more bearable. This only improves the outlook for a server at a venue as beautiful as the one Mom and I stumbled into six months ago. But how I do miss my home town and the changing leaves.

Life-giving work takes little energy from several free-time adventures I have added- I am enjoying a new gym membership- something anyone who knows me(myself included) will be surprised to hear. Social media has been huge- seeing what other people are creating and sharing is inspiring. Pinterest is mostly responsible for recent bouts of working out, redecorating, new books to be read, baking, cooking, new concepts for art work, dreams to make room for and effortless free amusement. I am not ashamed. I've also had a chance to catch up with a few very special people I had really been missing since the move, and though I cant wait to see them again, phone calls will do. :)

Distractions aside, First Friday loomed. Unsure how to prepare or what to expect, I was extremely nervous. Anxiety prone as usual, I kept preparing myself for the worst case scenarios. What if I was terrible? How will I position myself? Who is going to sit still for twenty freaking minutes for a monochromatic image of themselves in 2013? I'm not in a suspense generating mood. Today was my grandmothers 88th birthday so it was freaking awesome and included one of the best yoga classes ever. The night went wonderfully.

First of all, I learned a TON and met some great people. I had no idea what or how to accomplish... what? So I sat. The gallery owner paid for the first portrait of a sixteen year old girl who I learned was an accomplished musician and singer.

     She asked hesitantly, "Will I... be able to move?"
     "...... Umm... Do you want to be able to move?"

Apparently, this wasn't the first time she had sat for a portrait. This didn't exactly add to my wavering confidence.

     I couldn't help myself, "So... The last portrait you had... Did you like it?"
     "... I mean, Yeah. But it didn't really LOOK like me. I was too pretty."

Turns out most people would prefer to fidget uncomfortably and look around(or in the case of a gorgeous high school Texan- text) while a stranger stares at them.

After that first drawing, I was able to relax considerably. I discovered I could finish an acceptable image of a stranger in ten minutes. By the twenty minute mark, I was pretty much wrapped up. Also, I could maintain active conversation with my subject and spectators the entire time(with the exception of the last minute or so when I would prompt certain characteristics I deemed especially important).

Capitalizing on this knowledge came naturally. Most people on a Friday night outing will not agree to sit still for half an hour, but ten minutes in a chair with conversational freedom is less daunting. By the ten minute mark, most people found themselves having a nice enough time, enjoying a little attention, and appreciating what I was able to produce; so it wasn't difficult for them to agree(often under social pressure of observers and my mom lol) to hang out with me a bit longer- at the rate of a dollar a minute of course.

The people I met in Denton seemed exceptional, and my portraits of them seemed to delight everyone. I couldn't help but draw the parallels between the special relationships that arose between myself and my "subjects" and the connections I have been lucky enough to make waiting tables. When short, potentially awkward, transactions like these are enjoyed, both parties have something to be proud of. 

Grape Fest

Grape Fest. What can I say about Grape Fest? As it turns out, not a whole lot; we were pretty dead. On the bright side, I was working at a wine tasting room two blocks from a wine festival all week. There was great music, crafts, art, food, and WINE. Main street in Grapevine is really cool without these things, but add them, a few hundred drunk people and MAN- talk about a recipe for a good time.

We ran a special on seven glasses this week. A cab, tempranillo, port, viognier, house sangria, dry rose, and a white table blend along with a special on mimosas. We always have the best patio in town, and our musicians rival those at the festival, but in the end a two block trek was too much for people. I cant stand being bored at work, so one of the best parts of my weekend was spent handing out fliers. It reminded me of petitioning for Planned Parenthood in Southwest Missouri, but the audience was considerably more friendly; unfortunately, they were about equally receptive.

I finally consider myself completely unpacked and uncluttered. Keepsake boxes were the last items to find their place in my room, and within minutes many of their contents found places tacked to my walls along with magazine clippings and some sketches from high school. My sentimental heart feels MUCH more at home. We also had a neighborhood garage sale this weekend which benefitted my studio greatly. I'm very pleased with how it's coming together, and the light is even better than I expected.

Most else I have going on probably wont excite. I'm developing an idea for new business cards, a short bio, and photographs for branding with which my sister Ty has been a tremendous help and support. In addition to the portraits themselves on the agenda, there are a few books I'm reading to prepare for the sales side of the operation. My creativity is a little zapped as a result of all the constructive activity, but I have made a promise to myself to keep this updated. Thank you as always, friends near and far, for the views.
    

First Friday Art Walk

I woke up this morning for the second time at around ten-thirty. There are a lot of things to miss about starting my weekdays making people's coffee; waking up at five am is not one of them. I gave Mom a call. She was running errands around town- something about a cool little art gallery with a nice lady who LOVED hearing about her daughter's skills because she was looking for a portrait artist.
"Alright Mom, sounds good... Is there any food in the house?"
"No."
"Okay, I'm going back under my rock."
"Okay bye"

...2 minutes later...

"MOM! Someone with a full studio and gallery is looking for a portrait artist?"
"Yes. Come down here."
"............ugh... fine. Can we eat?"

We ate at the best burger place in town. I had a chicken salad sandwich with beer and cheddar soup. Afterwards we approached the cool little art gallery, but it turned out the nice lady eats around noon too. Humph, it's not like I was carrying a large sketch book around or anything. So with time and now sufficient calories to burn, we and my sketchbook checked out a nearby café and vintage clothing shop. The café had a good hazelnut latte. The vintage clothing shop had nothing. Thank God.

When Nice Lady returned, she liked my drawings(including two of Obama I had cranked out the night before) enough to offer me a job on the spot. It's nothing crazy; one day a month at First Friday Art Walk drawing portraits and invitation to do my thing whenever she has an outreach, but STILL. A little money=cool. Practice and exposure, access to a professional, her studio, supplies, and contacts= awesome. Feeling like I'm on the right track... don't really have the words for that one. I'll keep you posted. Grape Fest soooo soooooon YAAAAY!

The Catcher in the Rye

I'll be taking the first real steps towards building my studio tonight. It has been one of those projects I had been afraid to talk about. I did not want to jinx myself mostly. I can't say I haven't done well in the last five years, but I can confidently say nothing has gone according to plan.

For those of you unfamiliar with my life and care to stick with me, I'm a twenty five year old Cum Laude graduate with a Bachelor's in Science of Psychology from Missouri State University accompanied by dual minors in Biomedical Science and Religious Studies. That's what happens when a degree plan does not go according to plan. This combination happens to be attractive to graduate schools as are high scores on standardized tests, a clean record, successful internships, and employment history that includes years working with cancer patients. What am I doing now? I'm sitting at my Grandmother's house blogging, drawing pictures, and reading novels assigned in adolescent lit classes until the football game starts. That's what happens when graduate school plans don't go according to plan.

Around the time I moved to Dallas, I didn't have much of a plan. Without one, I was distracted by trivial BS. At my age (maybe at any age), BS-no matter how trivial- can be a serious threat. I was getting sick, loosing weight, attempting to self medicate with diet and sleep, jerks... Luckily my vices don't fall in the substance or self-mutilation category, but needless to stay I was not reflectant of the model healthy early adult of which I had such an extensive expensive testable comprehension.

So I made a new plan. I moved for the first time ever. I got a job. I made money which I saved and used to expand my credit limit. I traveled and saw how many ways this life thing I had been having such a hard time with was lived; I realized that no one, no matter how disciplined or knowledgeable, has ever created an entire successful human life without adjusting course or taking a few hits.

So that's what I'm trying to do. Navigate using talents and resources fate has granted me at this point. Turns out I can draw people. Really I can draw a ton of things, I just like people the best. I appealed to several friends via social media and from the few projects that have resulted, it has become apparent that I need more space. Space that isn't my bed or the floor in front of someone's couch. Good thing I've been working for tips every freaking second of my life since I moved to a higher income area without the burden of rent or debt! Good thing I've shacked up with a member of my family successful enough to secure a home with unoccupied rooms! There seems to be a ton of things in my life to be thankful for after a time where I became very good at feeling sorry for myself. So I guess what I'm after more than anything else with this post is a psuedo-physical manifestation of a grateful heart and maybe a level of social accountability.

Grape Fest is next week. In case you're missing the wine content hang in there!      

Tip Share

For eight months I have worked full time at a very special place in Dallas. Between my time there and the winery, I have had precious little free time, but have somehow been blessed with quality family time along with the benefits of completely new relationships. Arguably I have taken more from Dallas than four years of college.  

I came home this week to visit the only place I had ever lived before the move, before Coffee House Cafe, before La Buena Vida. My Uncle passed away last week- a loss which compliments many I have experienced recently. Most of my peers have experienced similar feelings as we create lives for ourselves.

Lucky for me, my grandparents chose the city of Springfield Missouri to create their life with my father and his three brothers. Shared experience as a family imparts the burden of a common "who we are". As do shared experiences in the town you attended college, the workplace you contributed, or even the nationality or religion you claim. These bonds weigh more heavily on some members than others.

Tip share: The money a server will bring home is a result of the combined reward being split evenly. Optimal in high volume drawn from specialized tasks with aces in their places. Relative to the degree these qualifications are met, dependents stand to gain and suffer together. Anyone who has tip-shared has a strong love/hate relationship with this concept. Often the intrinsic motivator of pride can not out-way the cost of consistently carrying a team when you are a stronger player. Sometimes what happens in our lives make even the minimum requirements of a busy night difficult to meet, and the risks- even of letting others down- seem negligible. We have all put more into something and felt resentment build when others don't seem to value our contributions. We have all entered social contracts with low expectations and benefited from the generosity of others.

It comes down to how much responsibility we are willing to take for outcomes that benefit the group we are in. Being an adult gives you a greater degree of control over the associations you choose to recognize and the degree to which you develop and maintain them. As a member of the group of people following, your interest has benefited me greatly. As always, thank you.            

The Macchiato Gap

 

Customer's vary most in their expectations. That's not to say anyone coming in the front door expects a poor experience, but definitions of a satisfactory breakfast vary considerably. Some diner's fly by the seat of their pants. They expect to be seated, ask and take recommendations, and refuse condiments, refills, and change. Some diner's move several times before they are satisfied and are even willing delay the carnal gratification of eating for a more pleasing position in which to do so. They must taste house wines on happy hour, they use the menu only as a tool to decipher what is in the walk-in, they request explanations behind upcharges and don't bat an eyelash while reciting ritualistic substitutions.

This is especially true with people and their coffee. A sincere apology to fellow hipster baristas, but coffee making is not complicated at all. Everything and I mean EVERYTHING on any coffee house menu is a combination of five things- espresso, coffee, milk, hot water, syrup... but mostly espresso and milk. Italian, as Latin, lends itself to confusion, confusion lends itself to the illusion of complication, the illusion of complication lends itself to sophistication, and sophistication lends itself to money making potential(ask anyone in the medical profession).

Sophistication leads to outsider trust. The novice coffee drinker often asks, "What's good?" "What's sweet?" "What do most people get?" The answer to all of these questions is usually a version of the latte, but several variables effect what transaction eventually takes place. Most people prefer sweet drinks, men prefer not to admit it. If I feel a connection to a customer I will make bolder suggestions. There are several drinks I prefer to make. Sometimes I'm just out of something or my espresso is pulling funny.  

Sophistication also attract sophisticates. Academic style arguments, emotions flaring, exacerbated by caffeine or lack thereof. Wine sophisticates are prevalent as well, but far more tolerable. Wine sophisticates are usually satisfied more easily by more wine and perceived agreement. Coffee sophisticates are often more difficult to pacify, usually because they don't have clue what they're drinking in the first place. The word "latte" has not been integrated with "espresso" and "steamed milk". And unlike wine, coffee drinks often taste good. So when someone who craves a Starbucks style Macchiato is surprised to receive a shot of espresso with a spoon full of milk on top, the world seems like a very bitter and quickly cooling place. 

When first dealing with the macchiato gap, I would ask, "Are you sure?", which was almost completely ineffective at gaging customer's "sure-ness". I then would explain the difference between the two using words like smaller, more bitter, and very different. Eventually I found that the best approach was prompting guests to explain their expectations and then use my extensive milk and espresso experience to avoid disappointment. As it turns out, most people would prefer to remain oblivious to their own lack of knowledge in favor of conserving learning resources for more important things than coffee.

It takes energy to maintain illusion for others. But perception is reality and the truth is: as people, we experience restlessness wherever we're at. Only upon realizing this can we ever hope to grasp true freedom: the ability to choose to push the envelope or accept things the way we perceive them. The danger of acceptance is vulnerability to the ambitions of others. The danger of personal ambition is personable responsibility.

Its not that any field or life is more difficult. It comes down to the details in life that we are truly willing to pay attention to and take responsibility for. That's why respect is important. Thank you again for your attention and respect. Three hundred views guys! Thank you. 

Thanks for reading guys

Thanks for reading guys. If you find in the next couple lines that you would rather return to classier reading material, I wont have any idea you did.

This is my blog. It's about what I'm doing with my life after graduation. Right now I wait tables. I make coffee, pour wine, and mix drinks. Basically, I am a professional liquid artist and distributor. I'm only half joking. We have such high hopes and expectations for the things we put in our mouths- a lot like things we are willing to stop and really examine with our eyes.

Anyone who has ever worked in the service industry has a bit of an insider's perspective. <<more valuable than gold>>. We know nothing is as it seems. We respect it. The success of a restaurant, however short lived, is based on the ability of staff to exceed high and mostly unrealistic expectations. It is a moving target. That's life. Whether you realize it or not, you go to a restaurant or bar to be impressed... by something. Otherwise the decision to spend frankly a lot of money out of the comfort and warmth of your own home makes little since. The truth is, its an escape, because homes are not always warm and comfortable enough. Familiar things become mundane, so we escape into a good labor-free meal, a drink, companionship, and semi-personal relationships with waiters and waitresses.

Wine is the best example of this sort of illusion I have encountered. A friend of mine once said matter-of-factly, "Wine just tastes like dirt, all of it." IT DOES. That's what's so great about it. Here's something with --yes I'm going to say it-- NNNNOOOO health value. It is alchohol, it is poisonous, it makes people more likely to wreck cars, get in fights, conceive unplanned pregnancies and worst of all send embarrassing texts to exes. This whole one glass a day thing is BS. These experts are basically telling you that a "glass" of wine (give or take based on factors few people can dream to understand) is the amount to ingest at which point the benefit of relaxing out-ways the costs of damaging your body or unborn fetus. Just about every neuron in your body is literally screaming, "WTF?!" That's why it's freaking awesome.

Do you remember your first taste of wine? Not Arbor Mist or Yellow Tail Moscato.... I mean WINE. I guarantee it tasted like dirt, or worse. ......................My stepmothers merlot at Zio's.......................... It was blood red, thick, too warm to drink, no ice, no straw, and I was fourteen. All I could taste was cigarette butts. Cigarette butts and blood, Zios in Springfield Missouri... elegant indeed(favorite restaurant EVER BTW). If I had the same merlot today, I would probably love it.

Would I love it because it would have aged longer? Has my molecular structure changed so much in ten years that the neural signals I am receiving are different? No. It would be the same wine, but I would revel in the smoky undertones of tobacco, is that strawberry? No! Raspberry. Bask is the density... gorgeous deep scarlet. I might sell it to you. You might buy two bottles for you and your friends, have a great time, take some home, and leave an excellent tip. But I guarantee the power of the sale had nothing to do with that wine tasting good. It doesn't. It's the fact that we just made the absolute best out of something mundane, even unpleasant; we escaped for a moment, and we did it together.

Great escapes are about being brave, but not being a big jerk about it. You have to push a little deeper sometimes(and if you're like me, those times usually involve blushes). It's a social thing. It's a heroic moment to be shared. Just a moment; there's no good times to own, no matter how many pictures you take, and agendas spoil everything. Refusing to taste something you have never tried isn't rude, its not stupid, it just limits possibilities.

So if you made it this far and you liked it, next time you see me, tell me how difficult it was to hold yourself back from impersonal commercialized mumbo-jumbo or political views well developed enough that they become Facebook eCards in 28 hours. Or just read next time. :)