Wednesday, September 26, 2012

a little meander from white to red, and back


So you go through wine (and life) and have these phases, all these different phases.  School, work, love, heartbreak, depression, hope; white wine, red wine, oaky wine, dirty wine, fruity wine, to finally, beer.  And sometimes, if it all shits on you particularly hard, you go through several all at the same time.  It all works to toughen you up a bit, harden you, mold you, and ultimately, make you a wiser and better person.

I don't relate to people all that well sometimes.  I'm often in my own world, daydreaming . . . fine if I'm actually alone.  Not so much in the middle of a conversation, or dinner with someone I'm actually starting to really care for.  But I can't help it.  Here I am, in my mid-twenties, trying to figure out what kind of career I want (finally!), and suddenly, a grenade gets tossed in the middle of it all.  It's just very overwhelming when you're trying to get your (professional) shit together, and your personal life suddenly feels wanting of some attention too.  I dream a lot, but sometimes, it's hard to dream when it increasingly becomes apparent that it takes an extraordinary amount of hard work and courage to get the ball rolling, on what you really want to do.

My drinking started early.  I was practically weaned on hard Chinese liquor, sitting on my grandfather's lap, as he'd stick a chopstick dipped in a fiery baijiu in my mouth.  Allowed to sit at the adult's table during family dinners, beer came first - a bottle, at most, in one sitting.  Then slowly, a bit of wine.  But it probably wasn't until I was 15 or 16 that it really clicked; that clouds parted, sun shone through moment in wine.  I pretty much started devouring any and all wine-related writing: books, magazines, newspapers, online publications.  It wasn't for a few more years that I could buy wine on my own . . . but I was already well on my way to becoming a wino.  A preference for white wines came first, then a sudden change to brawny wines from the south of France: Rhône and all that.  Then came Germany and the wines of Mosel, and I was truly off into the wonderful world of European wines.

These phases are cyclical.  Happiness, sadness, despair, then joy.  It all tends to balance out.  I drink more Old World wine, but in terms of a specific genre, it all seems to rotate on a carousel.  And that's the whole point, right?  You can't always just drink riesling or cabernet, just like you can't always be happy, or always be upset.

My old roommate's favourite saying was hey, shit happens.  Not particularly creative, but it's incredibly useful.  Shit does happen, and you realize you have very little control sometimes, even in your own life.  You don't know who you're going to meet at a friend's usually uneventful birthday party.  You don't know why you start getting all hormonal about her.  And suddenly, even though the timing just isn't right, you realize that yeah, maybe she's what you've been looking for.

We meander and stumble around, and while there is no real clear path, it's important to recognize and capture opportunity.  I make a fool of myself on a regular basis - why should my dating life be any different.  My friends try to steer me straight and true, but really, maybe I just want to fucking torture myself.  Truth in wine, and in all things.  So as long as we're truthful and honest with ourselves . . . our messy lives just might start to untangle a bit.


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