Happy Memorial Day Weekend! Off to celebrate with family, enjoy! Look for posts upon my return!

I seem to have fallen a bit behind on my blog, no? I promise to play catch up though! Strangely enough these first few weeks of "summer" have been keeping me quite busy between a wedding, an internship, and catching up with certain friends before they return to school for summer classes. Honestly though, why must everyone abandon jersey for the summer? At least it has finally decided to stop raining for the first time in two weeks!

"I'll be yours if you'll be mine. I tried to change, but I changed my mind, think I'll have another glass of mexican wine"

Never done this before, but I'm posting a short essay I wrote for my creative nonfiction writing class this past semester. I thoroughly enjoyed that class, and it was one of my favorites I've taken at Mizzou, probably because I got to read other's writing as they did mine. Their feedback, compliments, and criticism have proven so valuable over this past semester and I look forward to workshopping with many of them next semester. No one in that class was my best friend, but I really felt like I got to know a lot of them through their writing, and that's refreshing. Enjoy!

Judgment

He was just an assignment for a class, an interesting conversation to be had and recorded. He was nothing more than a predicted fifteen minutes of my life sacrificed in the pursuit of a journalism degree. “Interview someone and write a personal profile about him or her, focusing on something interesting.” I knew, sitting there awkward and stiff on a bar stool next to Sean Burke that he was going to earn my much coveted ‘A.’ After all, a twenty-something guy who, after dropping out of art school in Colorado, ended up in Columbia, working as a cook at the Heidelberg, spending his nights playing in his band at The Blue Fugue and nursing a rambunctious alter ego, known as John Locke-Jaw, is sure to deliver a great story. His “C’est la vie” lifestyle intrigued yet infuriated me. How could he keep responding to my “Why” questions with a reply of “Why not?” Irritation began creeping in, but was instantly numbed away by the amusement of it all. We talked for more than fifteen minutes.

I sat straight up, legs crossed guarding my notebook close as I scribbled notes, all the while observing this stranger who I was determined to unravel in one conversation. I strived for strict professionalism in the dark, relaxed bar of the Heidelberg, as the myriad of locals and college students enjoyed their beers and light games of darts. The ‘Berg’ is as much a local landmark as it is a restaurant in Columbia, iconic of the relaxed college-town atmosphere. The references to the alcohol and the crazy nights seemed normal at first, as he would slyly retell stories that, not surprisingly, were absent from my article. His eyes twinkled behind his oversized rimmed glasses as he suggested ordering drinks, on Monday night at 7:30 p.m. Although the class syllabus neglected to comment about alcohol consumption with one’s sources, I thought it wise to refrain.

I professionally dragged the conversation back to a normal state of sobriety, realizing that perhaps Burke’s intrigue could be attributed to more than just an interesting, fa-la-la-ing through life mantra. His small frame lounged on the stool, turned toward me, decked out in a band t-shirt, jeans, and worn sneakers. Not only was he completely comfortable with being interrogated, he seemed amused, casually playing with his hair, never breaking eye contact with me. I was fascinated because I was talking to an emerging alcoholic, and I knew it. I don’t think he has quite figured that out yet.

He casually waved his hand when retelling tales of times when he drank until he just passed out. Which, I learned, was every time he drank. The discussion of his alter ego drove me, unfortunately, to the same conclusion. “I don’t know, maybe its normal, maybe its schizophrenia. He shrugged and then smiled slyly, “Or maybe John Locke Jaw is really who I am, and Sean Burke is the alternate ego.” As deep and profound as I found that, sitting on the edge of that bar stool, I couldn’t stop my judgmental mind from screaming, “Or maybe its just the persona you take on when you’re drunk beyond recognition.”

His worst fear is driving drunk and killing someone. Because he has, on multiple occasions, driven drunk. I smile politely and nod my head, like a good little journalist should, hiding my appall, remaining as nonchalant as he. I wonder if my face can hide my resonating thoughts of, “I am interviewing an alcoholic.” I would never dare ask, but apparently I don’t have to, Burke asks himself out loud, “Do I think I’m an alcoholic?” “No.” Shocker. I play along, pretending to agree that as long one does not start his day with a glass of scotch, he could not possibly have a problem. Do I think he asked himself that question just so he could be the first to deny it? Yes.

Is it my place to even form a judgment about a stranger’s habits? Do I believe his confident attitude, that he is simply having a good time? Do I have a right to diagnose quirky, hipster guys I interrogate for a journalism class? Maybe I’m the one with the problem, after all his life is colorful and hysterical as he bums around Columbia without real direction, just a desire to have fun and be happy. My palms sweat at the thought of interviewing some guy at a bar. Perhaps I’m too straight-laced I realize, as I scootch off the stool in my buttoned up pea coat to get ready to leave. I shake his hand, and thank him. And then he asks me to stay. So that he can buy me a drink.

"Easy come high, easy go low. Make a little change, let it grow. Easy be young, soon grow old. Easy to love and not to let go."

With only one more final to go, I think, just maybe, I might have time to dedicate to this blog...let's hope so because my consistency is appalling.

"How people treat you is their karma; how you react is yours."

"Ever notice how "What the Hell?" is always the right answer?"

"And I never wanted anything from you, except everything you had, and what was left after that, too."