Happy Hour

You don’t really have to go to school, but you do have to get a job. Once you get a job, you have to maintain it. In that maintenance you start to find the things that work for you, and those that don’t. Typically, this reflection occurs in those hours after work: on the drive home, while cooking dinner, after midnight when you can’t sleep. But it gets deeper than work – it gets into your skull; into the caches of your consciousness and the slow simmer of your sanity. So if, in those hours, you add alcohol to the mix, you get something less inhibited and more fantasia. And it feels good. But it also drives you crazy.

As a late-twenty-something in San Diego, California, I’m discovering my deal-breakers and an open mind that almost comes across as a fault. This blog is my process of uncovering these things as I prod and run into the world around me.

It will get better. It will get saucier. It will get brassier. It will get smarter. But for now, grab a drink and marinate with me.

And show me yours.