Exhaustion

 I'm done, drained, pooped, hit the wall, worn thin, run ragged, exhausted.

I love my job. I love talking to folks about my job, my company, my field of expertise, my zone. Finding that common ground, making a quick connection, making a bond. It's fun, exhilarating, exciting, it validates myself and my work.

It's also hard, scary, makes me nervous, gives me mild panic attacks. 

I'm, as my boss has told me jokingly, a "reformed" introvert. I gain peace from solitude, from a book and an old record, from zoning out and letting my mind wander to strange and scary places, from lying on the couch on my porch and listening to a spring thunderstorm, from staring out the window of my hotel while sipping a beer.

Crowds, people I don't know, odd situations, pushy extroverts, chatters on planes, professional events outside my area of expertise. All these things drag me down. I can "turn" on as needed to get things done, to do my job, to teach people, to do my best not to be the awkward quite person. I've learned to push back against the voice in my head telling me to run away, to find a dark  and quite corner. I can push it away, but it empties all my reserves, cuts my soul bare, turns my mind to mush.

I'm ulgy when I'm worn thin. I snap, say shit I don't mean, act awful to the people I care about. I wish I could help it but the  damn has burst, the filter gone, my internal 5 second delay and dump button is short circuited. 

So if you know me, and catch me just back from a work trip, give me time. Let me build my defenses back up, regain my wit, my sense of humor. Tell me I'm being an asshole, make me self aware.

I have to learn, to help, to direct, to train. Why? Because I know one of my sons is like me. Thoughtful and deep but dark and moody when invaded. I hope one day he will let me into his world and we can just sit and listen together.

The "College Bar"

What makes a College Bar? 

It used to be cheap beer, cheap food and loud music. Craft beer has changed this. More and more I stumble upon good local bars and brewies offering really good beer and really great prices. Sure, there is a time and a place for keg races using Coors Light or Milwaukee's Best but more and more college kids are getting exposed to good beer earlier. 

I find myself sitting in the Moscow Alehouse in the edge of the University of Idaho campus. It's a Tuesday night between semesters and the place is hopping. An odd mix of professors, students and other locals gives the place school vibe. The Tuesday night special is called "Tap a Keg Tuesday". $1.75 pints and $6 dollar pitchers of 2 kegs of microbrew until the blow. Tonight the legs are a Fat Tire Snapshot and Big Sky Itty Bitty IPA keg. Good choices on and standard night and excellent choices for a special night. Back in my younger years we were lucky to get a $5 pitcher of Amstel Light (yes, get off my

Lawn and take your empties while you at it).

So Bud look out. Keep catering to the folks that don't know better. Keep insulting craft beer drinkers and your employees. Let the little guys keep bringing in the college kids, showing them that really great beer isn't inaccessible, in fact it's right down the street. Served and made by their own class mates. Ready to show everyone that you want to cheer the guy hauling the new local brew keg and not the distributer showing up with 10 kegs of Bud for the weekend rush. 

An Ode to the Dive Bar

As I sit here in my favorite dive bar, my mind ponders a question, "Why do some bars just feel right?"  The answer? Truthfully I have no idea. I've been all over  most of these United States, visited countless bars, breweries, speakeasies, holes in the wall and dives. Had a great time at lots, a decent time at some and terrible times at a handful (a BW3s in Lawerence KS comes to mind hazily). But for what ever reason there are maybe 2 that I can feel like they fit my like a well worn glove. They slip right on, the beer comes quickly and cold. The music is always just right but keeps me in my toes. I can feel the blood pressure and worries drop away and my spirits lift. Why do they fit me this way?

One I've been to countless times, spent way to much of my small amount of cash on hand during college. Had multiple days where I would show up right when the doors opened and stay until they closed up shop. Sang along (poorly) to countless one man bands, had my first tastes of Guiness, Harp, Boodingtons, Jameson and Bushmills. It was my college bar, my stress reliever, my mind eraser, my get drunk and bitch about life place. It felt more like home than many an other place in my adopted city of Atlanta.

The other? Strangely I've probably been to no more than 20 times yet it's has hooked me. A hole in the wall on the edge of downtown in my hometown of Savannah. A strange little place with an odd mix of cheap macro and excellent micro. Funky music and an eclectic crowd pull me in. Bare brick, old wood, exposed beams and comfy reclaimed chairs. I prett much modeled the basement in my first house after this place. I could bring a cot and live here. 

So here's to the dive, the hole in the wall, the local joint, the place where everyone may know your name. Here's to Limerick Junction and Abe's on Lincoln. May I haunt your halls for the years to come and may I always find a cold beer and good time.