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According to Wikipedia according to the International Bartenders Association, the standard ratio of a margarita is 7:4:3 for tequilla:Triple Sec:lime juice. Now, I had a 400ml clear plastic cup, so using the same ratio I just mentioned, and converting them into percentages (50%:29%:21%), we can therefore know that we would require 200.0ml of tequilla and 116.0ml of Triple Sec (and therefore 84.0ml of lime juice, by the way). As tequilla is 40% alcohol, that means 80.0ml of alcohol came from the tequilla. That's simple arithmetic. Duh. And as for the Triple Sec, it's 30% alcohol, so 34.8ml of alcohol came from the Triple Sec. (I calculated this in my head by rounding up 116.0ml to 120.0ml so the figures were easier, giving me an alcohol volume of 36.0ml, then I subtracted 30% of the difference that I added [which was 4.0 milliliters], which turned out to be 1.2ml, giving me the final alcohol content in milliliters as 34.8ml.) So if there is 80.0ml and 34.8ml of alcohol, there are 114.8ml, and just doing a quick calculation of 114.8 divided by 400ml, that is roughly 115/400 ml, which is roughly 23/80, which just trust me, is around 0.2875. (If you really want to know how I did that in my head, I basically multiplied both numbers by 1.25, since 80 times 1.25 is 100. This essentially gave me 28.75 when I multipled 23, so all I had to do is move the decimal place back two digits and that was it.) I am now proud to announce that what I drank was 28.75% alcohol. My initial guess of 30% wasn't that far off, was it? Isn't that neat?
You see, alcohol makes my mind run faster, my understanding of everything around me lucid. My perception may be a little bit impaired. I'm sure I wouldn't be able to taste or smell anything if it was pressed up against my face. I can't really feel my legs, but maybe it's because they're crossed. And my arms feel tired, I have no idea why. The only thing that hasn't changed is my level of visual perception. My eyesight is never affected, it's 20/20 vision all the time. As for my hearing, I can't hear a damn thing other than my music. I sure hope there aren't zombie lurking behind me, moaning and roaring at me. I wouldn't be able to smell them or hear them. I also hope that the whole building situated behind me isn't burning in flames. I don't think I would be able to smell or feel that either.
Music is a funny thing. People always ask me what kind of music I like, and I tell them 'Mainstream' is my thing. But I don't think that's what it is. I think I like songs which I know the lyrics to. Maybe because all my favorite songs just happen to be mainstream, that is why I know the lyrics to everything in my iPod. It's easier to practice as it plays in clubs and shops and stuff.
The title of this post is 'Alcohol, work and loud music go well together', because I know that once I've had some to drink, and once I've placed my earphones in my ears and turned up the music to the maximum volume, I become extremely efficient when I work. Alcohol works as some sort of fuel for me. They always say that alcohol doesn't change who you are, it reveals who you are. And perhaps the sober me doesn't like to do anything, doesn't like to work, to be proactive, to be lively, to be talkative, to be ranty. The sober me feels the need to act quiet, repressed, submissive, doesn't want to take chances, risks, initiative, action or a hold of his life.
Maybe the sober me will read this after the hangover and learn something. Good luck, Mike, living the way you do. If your way of living doesn't work out for you, you could always invite me back to be your substitute.
It's been around three hours since the drinking ended. I still have half the bottle of vodka in my schoolbag amongst my books and that, in itself, is just hilarious because I have alcohol, illegally purchased, consumed and possessed, in my room, at the end of my bed, amongst my studying material. I seriously need to shower because I smell like a tequilla factory and looking in the mirror, it is clear that the drunken escapade tonight that concludes this week of school has made me look like shit. Simply looking in the mirror now, my hair is all shaggy and glistens, presumably from the sweat as the alcohol warmed up my body. My cheeks are not red exactly, but they are redder, and my facial color is fuller rather than paler. At some angles, my eyebags seem to be wider and darker than they actually are. I just stuck out my tongue and I felt like gagging/throwing up. Probably not a good idea to do it again.
Yes, looking in the mirror. We all need to reflect on our own personalities every once in a while. If not, we'd just be very egotistic.
I don't know where I'm going with this, this post lacks direction, which I hate. But anyway, I had a good time tonight, I know I have two or three very good friends, at least, and I need to go to sleep now. I hope all of you are very happy too, and will find what you are looking for if you are, indeed, pursuing happiness. Don't feel bad, look on the brighter side of things, ask for help from those you trust if you're finding it difficult, and never, ever give up when searching for what makes you happy. It isn't that difficult if you really believe.
Guess who had alcohol once again? And it's only Day 3!
I wanted to take this wonderful opportunity to write a post because I often write the most splendid stuff when I'm under the influence. Let me just tell you about my drifty mode, because it's something very special to me and I love myself when I'm in that mode.
When I'm in my drifty mode, I talk very fluidly, flowingly, fluently, fluttery, floozy, flimsy, flaky and freely. My vocabulary is more vast and my thoughts are more lucid, yet deeper. I love the way my voice sounds. It's graceful and swift and it makes me feel good and (I'd like to think) others feel relaxed as a bonus. People don't see me drunk often enough. I really despise my sober self. He's more judgmental. He's more worrisome. He doesn't like to bond with others, yet he does at the same time. He thinks too much and he needs to learn to control his damn mouth because nobody wants to listen to those thoughts.
The drunk Michael... boy, I'm cool. It's like I'm mature and trustworthy but fun, free and natural about it all at the same time. Emotion at its best. You could just fall in love with him, want to be his best friend, proud to have him by your side drinking with you, being frolicsome and flirtatious, as well as puckish, in the playground. I should get drunk more often. Woo!
I'm back from my vacation in China and I've done the whole countdown thing. It's twelve hours into 2009 and it doesn't feel much different.
I was going to write a post yesterday night in the early hours of New Year's Day. I was inebriated from the party. I know my thoughts are clearer when I'm drunk. When I say this, I mean my inner feelings, and what I want deep inside seems more evident when I've had some alcohol. Whether I would have been able to describe those inner emotions in words is another matter, but nonetheless, yesterday night, in my head, everything was so clear, everything filed in neat compartments in my mind. That's the kind of thing I see when I'm drunk. I see everything organized, structured and less confused. I hate messes. I hate eating spaghetti for this reason. I like lasagna. The layers. The procedure in making it is so methodical. And now I'm hungry.
But before I digress any further, or go out for lunch, I want to write about last night.
New Year's Eve is interesting, to say the least. Everything's awkward at first as people arrive, as people scan the room quickly to see who made it, as people greet each other politely and observe how formal everyone else has dressed. People stare at the stranger friend if there is one. People inquire about the liquor available for the rest of the evening. They laugh if the class clown makes a joke - whether it's funny or otherwise. They ask each other how their Christmas went. They want to watch a movie, they want to play the Wii, they want to listen to music, anything to escape the first few minutes where everything is awkward, where everything isn't celebratory yet. But one thing is for sure, we know we are all meant to be happy. It isn't the time to be angry or miserable because it's New Year's Eve, goddamnit! We want to meet 2009 with smiles on our faces, with laughter in the air, with warmth kindled by each of our friendships and our collective class spirit.
Although it's awkward at first, we then all sort of melt into it. The caps come off the drinks, the movie's on and people no longer talk about how their Christmas went because that's in the past. 2009 is approaching and so we talk about the future. Our new year resolutions and where we all plan to go for university.
On New Year's Eve, everything is in this weird transitory Limbo where the present time doesn't really matter. We only concern ourselves with the 365 days we call "two-oh-oh-eight" and the 365 days we call "two-oh-oh-nine". We don't care about the 'now' on New Year's Eve. That's why we drink. That's why we smoke. That's why a guy would wear a girl's jacket, and why a girl can wear two-inch heels. That's why we scream off rooftops. That's why we hug whoever is there, or accept a hug from whoever offers it. That's why the dancers stretch their muscles in their tight jeans. That's why the guys give each other piggyback rides. That's why we all make stupid faces in photos. That's why we just don't care. We don't care that we're alone, angry, let down, rejected, out of place, insignificant or heartbroken because it's the New Year, damn it. Nothing matters because it's time for a change. Because we all have had our setbacks, our pitfalls, our mistakes, our tears and our troubles in 2008. It all changes after we count down to zero. It all ends here and now.
But then comes the real test. After the countdown. What do you do? Be sad that it's over? Be thoughtful and apathetic? Be happy and hopeful? Because that's what we all have to face. You can be the guy who leaves the party with a frown. You see everything wrong with your life on a dirty platter in front of you and you sigh, you cry and you feel the same as you did the miserable night before. You can also be the guy that leaves the party with your composure, a neutral view toward the party and a lot of thought. Emotions aren't there, it's just reason. You just like to reflect. If those two aren't for you, you can be the guy that leaves joyous with faith, who looks at the new year as a golden opportunity where dreams and goals can be achieved, where love can be felt and bliss can surround you.
Who do I want to be this year, or on New Year's Day? That's what you have to ask yourself after the countdown.
For me, it was strange. At first, I was sad that it was over. Then I was thoughtful and apathetic. I went to bed and woke up happy and hopeful. I feel like Dante in The Divine Comedy, going from Hell, through Purgatory and on to Heaven. I confess: I did leave the party crying. I missed the friends that weren't there, and when I left, it hurt to leave the friends that were there. But I left because it hurt to remain there as well. It hurt because I felt alone, even in a crowd. I felt out of place, like I should have been somewhere else. Like nobody wanted me there.
I left the party crying. So what? I called a friend. She brought me to Purgatory, where sadness slowly turned to a hopeful outlook on things. It allowed me to wake up feeling like this. Not happy necessarily, but content, restive and peaceful. Things have changed and I won't live like I did last year. That all ends here and now. (It's cool that I get to say 'last year' for the first time.)
I have been saying that for two weeks now. It all ends here and now. What exactly does that mean?
Well, I've made my resolutions, and I'm going to try my best to stick to them. 2008 was tiring.
Very tiring. And I think my resolutions will allow me to get some rest.
You see, people have told me that I am too negative, pessimistic, cynical and/or misanthropic and this has led to my exhaustion. I have to disagree. As I said in my introduction on Do you hate it too?, I like to think of myself as critical and observant. That is all.
Because I can also see beauty. I can experience joy, especially with the people I love. But I'm sorry, I like to fix things. I like to solve problems and only by identifying the flaws around me, I can then find answers to difficult questions. I will always be critical of others, judgmental and a keen observer. That will never change. But it was putting my emotions into my criticism that drove me to exhaustion. Not just negative emotions, but positive ones as well have led to my downfall. Seeing too much beauty in other people made me lust, yearn and care for people 'til my time and energy was wasted, until other people got sick of it. And seeing too many flaws in other people made me unappreciative, selfish, mean and disdainful. Controlling these emotions and my own personality is something I need to learn to make myself a better life.
I've been through Hell. Now, I'll keep on going. It's the foundation of this blog. It's my philosophy (and Winston Churchill's, of course). I want to live happier. I'll readjust myself to make that happen. Hell (Hell, I tell you!) ends here and ends now!
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