The dubious effects of alcohol

The thoughts of one blogger, on the state of mind induced by the consumption of alcohol.

In an effort to erase all doubt, yes, I have knocked back a few beers as of this writing. While this has made proofreading more challenging than usual, I am still relatively coherent. As someone who is aspiring to one day write on a professional level, is writing while slightly sauced, well, less professional? Maybe, but this personal blog o’ mine is all about exploring not only my personal life, but humanity in general. And boy oh boy, does humanity love its alcohol!

The title of my post is lifted from a quote by Mr. Spock from Star Trek, and is in reference to the fact that his species does not consume alcohol, and has thus been spared its dubious affects. Aside from this line allowing Spock to play the straight-man to the casual drinker that is Dr. McCoy, it is also an apt way of describing my typical stance on drinking. I usually find it, at best, to be a distasteful waste of money and brain cells. This is further reinforced by the fact that I never even touched a drop of alcohol until I was 23, and even after I had tried it, I never drank with any seriousness until I was in a relationship with my first girlfriend. My very best drinking experience ever was while I was with her, and my very worst ever was in response to my losing her as a part of my life. I have, since the worst of my worst alcoholic indulgences, gone mostly chaste towards the stuff, punctuated by brief periods of getting semi-smashed, but I largely stayed away because it was so hard to disassociate the act of drinking alcohol from thoughts and memories of my ex-girlfriend.

But now it’s not so bad. As silly at is may sound, I feel like it is a good sign of recovery that I can have a few drinks and not have my mind overwhelmed by grief. Just because she was the first person to introduce me to many things on the “wilder” side of life, doesn’t mean that I require her presence, or even her memory, to participate in any such things which I derive any genuine enjoyment from.

And… that’s it. I will very likely post a much more in-depth article about alcohol, its history, and its affect on our culture, at a later time. But right now I am merely a happily buzzed guy, who is just glad to be at a point where I can drink some beers and not be on the verge of crying my eyes out over the grief that I have been dealing with these last months. Even in my semi-sloshed state, I still think drinking is a pretty big money pit, but in moderation, and on special days like this, where work was especially taxing, I don’t mind letting my proverbial hair down, and having a few rounds on behalf of my ancestors.



  1. I’ve never been too enthralled with alcohol. I’ve had my share of drinks, but I don’t like being drunk. I hate the vulnerable feeling that comes with it.

    1. I do drink sparingly, there are just those select few nights where my stress level reaches its breaking point, and I think… “ah, yeah, I need a beer.”

      I usually do it alone, or with a very select few friends whom I trust, because I also don’t care to be vulnerable around the wrong people.

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