My Relationship with Alcohol

It's been politely pointed to me, there are some indications, I am being obsessed with an alcohol. I have no need or a desire to explain myself, primary because I couldn't care less what somebody else thinks of me and beside that, I firmly believe, to take such a course is silly and completely necessary. That is to say, I subscribe to a notion, your friends don't need any explanation and your enemies won't believe it. However, an aforementioned remark inspired me to write a following account of my attitude toward alcohol.

 

First of all, rather then obsession, I'd like to call it a life-long lasting passion  Yes indeed, I
am not afraid to admit I admire alcohol, but just the same, I've been fortunate enough to avoid developing a physical dependence on it.

 

My intimate relationship with alcohol went through its phases over the years, but we never forsaken each other. In the beginning, there were my explorative times of an indiscriminate approach to alcohol, when I would drink anything, anywhere and any amount available (ahhh, those sweet, confusing days of  an innocent soul-searching, experimenting and discovering). Then, later on I became an occasional social drinker, still not particularly selective in terms of varieties (of both: the booze and the establishments I would consume
it). And finally, after all those happy years, our close-knitted partnership with my good old buddy alcohol evolved to its current refined form, the best described as: "quality over quantity". I learned and graduated to appreciate a significant distinction between a $20 bottle of commercially produced grain spirit and the unparallel depth and character of an agreeably tasting fine French cognac or a scrumptious single malt Scotch.

 

These exquisite times of a pure satisfaction, when smooth, soft and lasting flavour of Dalwhinnie rolls on my tongue are precisely those rare moments, that are worth living for. 

 

Milo.

 

 

If I only.....

 

 

Quite obviously, I've been uttered by some kind of curse that's been forcing me to follow the same crazy perpetual pattern: No matter what I do, I always find myself a couple of tiny steps behind. Not by much, yet far enough to miss every golden opportunity thrown in my direction.
Just take this latest example: I could have easily become a new Canadian Governor General, if I only (how embarrassing!) haven't forgotten to mail in my job application.

 

The whole issue surrounding a governor's significance (or rather a lack of), is a classic case of this proverbial huge elephant in the room. Everyone sees it, but not a soul would dare to say it loud. Lets be honest and admit, that we, Canadians never express our opinion, if
there is just a slight risk we may sound impolite or inappropriate in any sense. We're simply not carved that way. And guess what - I also am the Canadian (occasionally even a proud one), but I've never been able to shake off that trace of my vulgar unsophisticated European origin. Therefore, I don't mind to raise my voice for all the others:

 

Yes, and there you have it: No matter how hard you rack your brain, you won't find a job as worthless as the Canadian Governor General.

 

No dispute there. However, since I've been involved in many pointless activities in my past and this one (unlike the others) comes with a very generous paycheck, I would, for the good of our country, lower my ethical standards and take the gig. Am I sufficiently qualified for the job? Please! What kind of question is that? If that woman from Haiti was capable to pull it off, then who wouldn't? It's just a matter of getting there, but that nut might be a bit tough to crack. My English is almost bad as hers, so I could score some points there, but realistically viewed, should I compete against someone like her, I'd probably won't stand a chance. Who am I kidding? A black female from developing country - who can beat that three-combination?

 

Well, it doesn't matter now, the job is taken and a David Johnston already has moved to his office. But that's fine, let him have it, I've never liked a desk job anyway. It's just another addition to a high pile of my missed opportunities. I haven't become a celebrated ballet dancer either, have I? Well, that's another story altogether. But, since I mentioned that, I must add, just for the record, I've never excelled in any physical activities, probably due to my clumsiness and a hopeless body and limbs motor discoordination, and not to mention I don't fancy a ballet at all. So, in a way I consider my failure to become new Baryshnikov a lucky break. I'd be most likely quite miserable going to work every day, should I succeed. 

 

Milo.