…lost: the moment between hating and liking WINE

Now I love you, now I don't, now I love you. (cred: wiki)

Excuse me, I’ve lost something. It’s an important memory I’ve misplaced. Locating it could mean discovering the basis of all human nature, or being an addict. If you’re drunk, this is the perfect moment to ponder your chosen vice.

I wonder, have you seen the moment in life when I transformed from wine-hater to thinking there’s nothing better in this world than a full-bodied red? I know. You’ve just realised you lost it too.

Maybe we can look together.

Most of us remember our first sip of wine (with the exception of those with parents who used alcohol to induce screaming-baby-sleep-comas). It was disgusting – bitter and vinegary – and made you want to spit (unless you were, as mentioned, an alcoholic baby).  And then it all fast fowards through blurry nights and sloppy hangovers. And suddenly, as you put down the glass of wine in your hand, you realise you ADORE wine. That’s more than mere love.

But when did the changeover happen? When was that exact point where a conversation like this should have happened:

“Wow. Oh my gawd! The last glass of wine I had was disgusting. I HATED it. But this. Oh My GOD! This glass is amazing! Wine is amazing. YOU are all so AMAZING. I love you guy(sh)…and I love thish.. thish glassh of wine in my hand.”

More importantly. Why did you keep drinking it when you hated it?

What does this fact of human nature tell us? I hated coffee too. I remember the first time I stole a sip from my mother’s cup.  I couldn’t resist the temptation seeing ground beans smelt so damn delicious.

It tasted like dirt. Really dirty, dirt. You know what I’m taking about – we’ve all tasted dirt.

Now I anticipate mornings by the mere thought of coffee.

Hello? What? Did I subject myself to torture by drinking something I hated until I loved it? I must have, because I can find no other explanation for transforming from coffee-hater into don’t-talk-to-me-before-coffee-addict.

My bite is worse than my bark before coffee. And I will bite.

And cigarettes. The first cigarette I smoked was the result of a friend who forced me (she was on a teenage mission to start the world smoking due to her profound passion for cigarettes – I kid you not). I took a small puff… and yelled ‘HALLELUJAH’ (inside my head).

As a smoke-induced cough forcibly tried to remove a lung, I was gloriously happy that the disgusting, expensive, and uncool addiction that is smoking will not be added to my list of addictions.

Sure. That didn’t last. Two years later, I was puffing away like those kool kids on Grease. Why…WHEN? Maybe I was forcing down a cigarette with the coffee I hated. Now I have another addiction I have to kick. Sigh.

I took this perplexing problem to the streets for consultation. And by streets, I mean a table full of friends who were smoking and drinking wine at that very moment. It seemed appropriate. They told me not to be so deep.

But we did get philosophical, as you do after three bottles of wine. We decided it was the following:

Step A: taking hated substance awakens a deep-seeded desire we were unaware of, proving our body is perceptible to addictive substances before our brain catches on. You could chuck in chocolate, vodka, gin, or whisky (which I haven’t yet learnt to love, but aspire to be someone who orders whisky, no ice. Aim high, mum says). Don’t get me started about smelly cheeses.

Step B: we force it a few more time due to social pressure (yes, drinking straight from a bourbon bottle at the age of 16 while sitting in a gutter will have its consequences). The deep-seeded desire spasms your hand to grab another glass, even though you choke on it as it slips down your throat. You are a puppet to it.

Step C: The deep-seeded desire we were unaware of travels from somewhere below our stomachs (where else would it live?) and fixates itself in our minds. It drives you for more. You LOVE it. GIVE ME MORE NOW!

Is it that we can’t say no, even to ourselves?

We were strong once. But those years were lost with childhood.

And you thought you were in control.

P.S. If you find my lost memories, please post them with fragile written on the box. Many thanks.

and the blogging award goes to….EVERYONE

Oh, me? I don't even have a speech prepared

Wow. My very first award. And you know, I’m aware it’s a chain-letter award that soon every blogger will have, but I’m still gonna puff my chest and pretend it’s the blogging equivalent of a Grammy. Minus everything the Grammies offer.

That is, except the reason to celebrate. You know I love to celebrate.

My very special thank-you for this award goes to Annette over at Ink. who writes an inspirational, creative blog. Plus she lives on a boat, which is awesome by any standards. Without her, I wouldn’t have this award.

I suppose WordPress should get a big call out, you know, as the equivalent of a producer.

Without wordpress, I would be using blogger.

And finally, I would like to thank my procrastination. Without it, I wouldn’t be blogging and achieving much more meaningful life goals. In fact, I should be studying right now.

And with this award comes the gracious acceptance that people want to know 7 things about me:

1. There’s a massive Valencian street festival happening right outside my window. It’s Las Fallas now, so soon I’m going to roam the streets, light crackers, throw empty beer cans on the ground, and watch thousands of dollars of fireworks erupt over my head. Lucky the government didn’t add it to the budget that got rejected by the EU. It’s so fricken’ fun though. The Spanish know how to party without limits (or rules, for that matter).

2. I am prone to sickness.

In fact, I’m sick right now.

I guess that comes as no surprise seeing I just told you I was prone to sickness.

3. I’m getting married this year. To a spaniard. I can claim to have a Spanish lover for the rest of my life. Sweet.

4. I love celebrations, especially birthdays. I tried to pretend it didn’t matter, once, and organised a ‘non-party’ small gathering. But I just couldn’t live with it. I freaked, and had a second party. With much more noise and alcohol.

5. I had a month long farewell party when I left London. I think that’s my record. What’s yours?

Then again, I also packed up 6-years of living in Istanbul in 3 days, so maybe I’m getting quicker. Or older.

Maybe I should shut up and address the fact that I keep moving country. Clearly I have problems staying still. And definitely I have issues returning to my Australian home soil (way more rules than Spain).

6. I have an addictive personality. I prefer to see it that I just like to enjoy everything in excess. Huge excess.

7. I can count to seven.

And now to bestow this award on 7 peeps! Just in case this chain awards brings bad luck or kills fairies.

So, the Grammy goes to….

The Laughing Housewife - a good natured, funny blog. It’s her no-frills self description that makes you want to know more.

Nailsbails – writes in code, but at least it’s not computer code, so you can all have a good laugh.

For Better GENiUS – ramblings that reflect my own thought processes sometimes.

Girl on the Contrary – well written, funny musing about ‘living life contrary-wise’ as she puts it.

Topiclessbar – funny, random, had some ‘totally get it’ moments

BAExpat - He’s an expat, I’m an expat, you can work it out.

Healthy Takeover - just check out the banner picture to get you intrigued

The Magnificent Something - quirky writing and you get pictures too!

Did you realise I chose 8? Do I get in trouble for that?

And that’s all folks! I have wild partying to get to!

Just have to convince myself out from under my ‘sick blanket’ and leggings

…women’s world domination for International Women’s Day

Yippee! It's International Women's Day (www.internationalwomensday.com)

The trade-off from centuries of inequality and oppression is a day designated just for women. Yippee (with a crooked hand-held flag).

Personally, I had no idea today was International Women’s Day (yes you can say IWD). The onus of my lack of knowledge could fall on me. Or perhaps they should sack their PR. Did you know about it? It’s been around for 100 years.

Now, I could go fetch my feminist alter ego and bitch complain about women’s struggle in the workplace, the lack of cuddles from my boss, and why there isn’t a damn chocolate machine that spits out free candy on PMS days! But I’m unemployed, so my office-politics rage is a little low.

The problem of un-awareness could easily be resolved, however, if women were given reign of the world on International Women’s Day. We could give it a catchy slogan like ‘Women Rule the World Day’ or ‘Women World Domination Day’. WWDD has a ring to it, don’t you think?

And if you won’t stop bitching about it, we would at least wear black leather and studs as a compromise, so nobody should be complaining.

Black leather for WWDD International Women's Day (credit: http://www.fightersgeneration.com)

By the way, USA celebrates IWD for a whole month.

Think about it:

• When political tensions rise and leaders get frustrated, women would quickly diffuse potential war crises by yelling ‘I just can’t deal with you right now’ and storm off.
• When men say ‘Honey, I can’t find the nuclear warheads and terrorist bombers’… we would say ‘if I come in there and find it!’ and point out that it was right in front of their faces the whole time.

• 

  If I come in there and find it....!! (image via Wikipedia)

• We could control global tensions with an evil look alone.
• Women’s obsessions with diets would decrease food budgets, essentially solving world hunger with all the leftovers.
• Women would check credit-card statements and balance banks’ check books, so they know exactly when an $80,000,000,000 expenditure didn’t end up as a present for them. Crisis solved.
• ‘Time outs’ would be allowed in congress. The ‘T’ hand shape is an international signal, so translation wouldn’t be needed.
• Our experience of inequality would ensure our commitment to being fair: men would also get PMS sick leave.

The lack my awareness does highlight a simple truth, however. As I sit here enjoying my voting rights and being let off my kitchen-chain, I forget the hardships and protests of women who fought before me.

To them, I sincerely thank you.