When to quit, when not to

One Friday night a couple of weeks ago, Random Girl read through Allen Carr’s, The Easy Way to Stop Smoking, in one sitting and just like that, launched herself back into the land of the non-smoker, for good! I wasn’t even in a place where I thought, “I have to quit”. It was more of a case of hearing of the book and thinking, “Let’s see if this works”. What do you know? It did!

I always thought, "Yes, one day I’ll be a non-smoker again, but I’m enjoying this today and I’ll see how I feel tomorrow." While never a particularly heavy smoker, I still struggled to let go of the ‘luxury’ of that one cigarette which would relax or calm or stimulate blah blah etc etc etc. Mr Carr reinforces the fact that cigarettes do not actually do any of these things for us. In real terms, they have a purpose tantamount to chewing on a piece of newspaper, and an effect even less appealing. He says it is this misconception that smoking provides us with something we need - be it physical or psychological – that keeps smokers smoking, irrespective of its entirely bad aspects. So instead of emphasising the obvious reasons why smoking is bad for you (which never stops smokers from smoking, as any smoker can tell you), the book devalues the ‘weed’ completely by debunking these misconceptions that help to perpetuate the smoker’s impulse to continue smoking (including, I might add, the myth that quitting smoking is 'hard to do'.)

Such logic resonated with RG. Suddenly, instead of this rebellious little act, I now see smoking as a useless exercise. It’s not about smoking being 'uncool', it has just suddenly become…purposeless. These past couple weeks I've breezed through what would historically have been the ‘tests’ of my will – a period of heartache, the night out with your friends who are still smokers, the erstwhile essential pre- and post-work fag, and even just seeing smokers while walking down the street – I’ve managed to turn a surprisingly calm blind eye to it. And rather than feeling any ambivalence, I actually just feel indifference. Gone is that familiar pang of ‘oh, maybe just one’ or ‘maybe just one drag’. The emotional connection has vanished thanks to Mr Carr’s sound logic which underlines how quitting something so useless means we are not actually giving up anything at all. At the point when you’ve had your last, the goal is to know that you have not only quit, but you have just had the last cigarette you will ever have in your life. Thanks Mr Carr! Quitting smoking has been, as you say, liberating.

Meanwhile, as you may well know by now, I have spent many months working through my thoughts for the near and distant future. Life in London or life in Copenhagen? I’ve decided to set down in Denmark for a while. I’ve decided it’s time to quit London.

Reactions to my big decision have been super positive. Then again, is it even a decision that I’ve made? Here again, like smoking, life in London just doesn’t seem to make sense to me anymore. In one way, I think you could almost compare London life to being a nicotine addict. It gives you a ‘rush’ then drains you completely waiting for you to replace the rush all over again, while leaving you tired all the time. Being a non-smoker leaves me feeling I have more energy. Being in Copenhagen leaves me feeling I have more peace and balance.

Two days ago I took my guitar to a place called KMC Musik to replace a busted string. I ended up meeting the owner Harry who spoke of how he used to have eleven similar shops across Denmark, but now only has the one saying that downsizing had simplified his life in a good way. He told me that his wife had passed away three months prior and went on to explain how this turn of events had changed his perspective intensely, leaving him more relaxed about things in general.

We spoke of many things while he replaced the broken ‘A’ string and tuned my guitar. We sat together and compared different guitar models and playing styles. We talked about how much we loved the blues. He told me how he had always worked in and been around the music industry. Back in the day, he had lived in San Francisco and had actually spent time with the likes of Janis Joplin and Jimmy Hendrix ("No way!" Way!) He showed me the epic 1957 Gibson Les Paul he is selling for the bargain price of one million Danish kroner (he said he hoped no one ever buys it). He surprised me further by telling me he teaches Shindokan Goju Kai karate and that he was, in fact, a 7. Dan sensai and ordained priest of some Japanese temple…I can’t even remember all the details but it's on his website :). In the guise of this soft-spoken, 60-something spectacled man re-stringing my guitar, was an entrepreneurial monolith who could very well [gasp, dare I say it] give Chuck Norris a run for his chest hair, and who, in all likelihood, had probably re-strung the guitar of Jimi Hendrix! I was stunned. Enter RG’s new hero!

Subsequent to our lovely conversation, Harry graciously gifted me the new string, as well as a spare plectrum and a key-winder for the road, so long as I agreed to never to quit playing my guitar/learning. In fact, he encouraged me never to quit doing what makes me happy, no matter what. Truth be told, it’s always been RG’s way, but I’ll take that reminder from the likes of sensei Harry any day!

Sometimes, yes, you just have to quit and move on, other times you stay and fight the good fight. I think life is about learning how to discern between the two. There are many times I wish I had just walked away, but then I would have been the lesser for it. There are definitely times I wish I'd fought harder! It can be difficult to work out whether we really are on the right track sometimes, but I would also argue that the road of integrity is usually well-defined...it just isn’t always the easiest road to take.

The key is to ensure that you are not ‘quitting’ what is essential to you today, for the sake of some idea of tomorrow. Living today is what counts. The rest will take care of itself.

Random Girl

p.s. - Best wishes to any smokers wanting to quit...try reading that book! Thanks to A, for inspiring me.

Lifting my spirits (pun intended)

The past week and a bit has been all about cocktails. I’ve been working at the bar more than usual and have also been doing my fair share of copywriting for my peops in the approach to the Copenhagen Cocktail and Spirits 2012 bonanza that ran over Sunday and Monday. Only its second year, the show has already garnered a strong reputation and in a town this small, with a community this small, it was bound to wind up being a big shindig for the lot of us. It was...oh yes! It was! Random Girl felt more than at home amongst a collection of both new and familiar faces – my new peers, it would seem – as we criss-crossed the exhibition hall to attend masterclasses and seminars, and was especially happy to see some familiar faces from my London days. 

But what a whirlwind it has been. I’ve had to digest (and ingest!) quite a lot in terms of new flavours, new ways of combining them, and new ways to describe them. I’ve been privileged to meet (over the years, not just in Copenhagen) a number of those individuals deemed influential in this circle, but in such a wholesome and spontaneous way so as not to create some artificial, sycophantic atmosphere, but a place wherein it’s easy to share a laugh with peers and mentors alike. Imagine a room full of high-fives, hugs and, well, highballs! Looking at the many different specialty areas and specialised individuals, I am attentive to the fact that I am witnessing, and now participating in, the start of a new epoch in Copenhagen’s drinking culture. This industry is still very young here. It’s exciting as hell and at the risk of sounding smug, damn cool being a part of it all as it begins to pick up momentum! 

I have always found this creative community to be, in equal measure, inspiring and humbling (at least insofar as the London and Copenhagen sets go). Most of the people I know who work in cocktails and spirits, while incredibly hard-working, maintain an ongoing awareness that there is always more to learn, more to do. No one, even those at the top of the game, seem content to rest on their laurels. They all want to learn more, develop and expand. It keeps things pretty cosy. And if you have a genuine interest in what these people have to offer, you are welcome. For my part, while a newcomer still, I do feel I have something to contribute to all this. What’s more, I’ve got the time, opportunity and inclination to identify the best ways that I can.  

It has only made a satisfying job even more so that I am able to exercise my writing skills in addition to enjoying the more interactive aspects of the job. I have been adopted as the token English writer/editor at my work and enjoy the challenge of distilling (pun intended, yet again) my words aiming to pinpoint the character of any particular drink, for example, as I continue to develop my palate for different tastes and aromas. I have been able to share in my process (from a writing point of view) with my colleagues as much as they have shared their process. I’ve also had the benefit of interacting with a cross-section of creatives who have visited us as guests, who share a love of ‘the craft’ of cocktail-making, and the joy of cocktail drinking (of course!).

So here it is plain and simple, for any doubters: being a cocktail waitress in a renowned bar is an awesome job. It has presented me with a multitude of benefits and opportunities, not the least of which is a growing kinship with an amazing group of Copenhagen's finest. I never imagined this would become my life, or that being good at something like this would instil in me such a strong sense of personal value and that I would get such satisfaction from it. I have seen once again how little things done well, and with passion, can have great impact and I am truly uplifted by the thought. An honest endeavour still has value. A sincere commitment to others still carries weight. It’s the little things that have counted here and they really have made the difference in the bigger picture for this random girl. 

I feel I’ve waited a long time for such ideas to manifest themselves in a way that was satisfying both spirit-ually (that's the last one, I swear) and practically. Love where I am, love where I work, love who I work with, and love how this has all enriched my life. Most of all, I love that this change is one I had not imagined for myself and that suddenly - with the help of a small leap of faith from myself and a few others - time, place and opportunity are all in alignment (and probably for the first time ever!) They say we're all only one or two degrees off our true path. I'll drink to that! Skål!

Random Girl 

Writing is HARD (and other excuses...)

Ah, so THIS is winter in Copenhagen. The snow lines the bicycle paths, the canals have frozen over and my hands are cracked from the cold. Then again, winter is blasting Europe with vehemence at the moment and everyone is seeing the big freeze. I’ve biked when the snow was dumping. It left me looking like a snow-woman on wheels as the giant flakes clung to my parka. It didn’t strike me as odd to be on my bike in what would elsewhere be considered ‘you’re-on-your-bike-are-you-nuts’ kind of weather. That I didn’t think it was odd was odd in itself, but then I don’t plan to make a habit of that either.  A taxi home from work the other night made a whole lot of sense. 

Random Girl is also battling a head cold. It has floored me somewhat leaving me feeling a little forlorn and a little useless. Much like the appendix; that useless flap of skin attached to the large intestine. It just hangs there, relevant only if it becomes infected and requires surgical removal. But I am just feeling sorry for myself. Being ill and unmotivated only highlights to me how lame-o I have become with my writing. I have written, but not half of what I thought I would by now. I am Random Girl’s unwritten play/novel.  

There are many excuses lined up in my head but the only real answer is lack of focus. I have not fully committed myself to the process. I’ve allowed myself to be too distracted by the ‘new life’ I’ve built for myself here so far, though to be fair, I have drawn much more from life here than I ever could have anticipated. But a more industrious person would be documenting that more effectively than I have, I believe. I've sat down and stared at the screen until my bum cheeks were numb. I've scribbled ideas on post-its which are strewn about my table and in my handbag. I've had moments of great clarity and many other moments of anxiety, fear and despondency with regard to what I had originally envisioned would be my 'process'. A part of me still believes the whole thing will ‘kick in’ soon and I’ll one day find myself tied to my computer for three weeks, word vomiting like Kerouac did with On the Road. Three weeks of non-stop typing (and as legend has it, a lot of pea soup) and that classic was born! Maybe that’s where I’ve gone wrong thus far...not enough peas in my life. 

That is not to say I have not benefitted from the efforts I have made so far. They have in fact yielded a great deal (only not in the form of fiction – dammit!). Writing is cathartic after all. For many, it is the best form of therapy and this probably holds true for me as well. Still, for my eight months away, I have ultimately found it difficult to take myself to ‘those places’ wherein I am withdrawing from a bank of memories, some painful and others difficult to extricate from the recesses of my psyche. To revisit those places - to take myself to that emotional place – I find difficult to do in long stints. So I work in short bursts and find myself unable/unwilling to go too far into myself for too long (for fear of not being able to pull myself back out). Thus, what I do get on paper is limited. It is a painful process for me. Some will say the only thing that makes writers write is a deadline. For me, writing is not fun. It is, however, a compulsion and I cannot lie, I KNOW I will need to get this done. Eventually. I actually feel that the only way I'll find satisfaction with this process is when I find the strength to endure those 'difficult' places (or become an alcoholic?) long enough to get it all down in writing. Ah, there's the rub!

I imagine this must be so common amongst fledgling writers. Finding a rhythm, finding a discipline. I saw an interview with Philip Roth recently who has written some 30+ books. I am Random Girl’s dropped jaw. I look forward to breaking through this crippling adolescent phase in a writer’s life when the need to exorcise one’s demons or to dissect the minutiae of everyday life remains the main motivation. I long to find that place of pure creativity where ideas just come from the blue. What I write will always be a composite of real people or events, sure, but it will be good once I get to that place where it needn’t be so personal in order to be purposeful. I would like to find that level of expression, if it’s possible for me, if it exists. I wonder whether that form of creation is a purer art form or not to that which is more directly drawn from one’s life. Maybe it doesn’t matter a damn.

I suppose it’s time to get angry. Anger is a great motivator, to be sure and truth comes too readily when I’m at my most angry. I do often ask myself why I should be so compelled by this notion of speaking the truth, when so many others feel that silence is golden. Random Girl is still working on that one. Sometimes it seems that most people will opt for whatever’s easy over whatever’s true. That’s a discussion for another time perhaps. But it does make me doubt from time to time whether there is a point to any expression of truth when people seem to embrace the other so readily. It doesn’t take long for me to answer that for myself though. 

All I can do is persevere and try to find my motivation every day. I wish the best to anyone else out there who is in a similar situation. Perhaps you could forward me some pointers? 

The rest of my life here in Winter-hagen has rounded out quite nicely so far, so now I feel I must pull up my socks with this. In the meantime, I just have to try to stay warm, see out this cold… and stock up on some pea soup. 

Random Girl

Resolution or revolution?

“Are you ready for the new year?”, I asked the man at the kiosk. “Yes, I am. Can’t wait for the new year. Hope it’s better than this one.” 

I smiled and asked, “Isn’t that what we said last year?” “Yes”, he replied, “and we’ll say the same thing next year.” “Do you think even if it IS a better year that we’ll even realise it come this time next year?” “No. We’ll just say the same thing.” “And it has nothing to do with whether it was a bad year or not…” “Nope.” “It’s just the time of year isn’t it?” “Yes.” “Hmmm, isn’t that funny?” “Yes.” Smiles. “Well, have a good one anyway.” “Thanks, you too.”

Only a half hour or so before this, I was in the local laundromat (eller møntvask) contemplating my life’s cycle in the middle of the spin cycle. I considered my usual inclination for serious reflection at this time of year (as you do), and what could otherwise be described as apprehension in the approach to the big-bang celebrations due to take place. The shops are selling sparkly hats, party games and joke glasses. We are to wear sparkly hats, play party games and laugh at each other’s joke glasses, or indeed, the joke bowtie which can actually squirt water at people. Many get blinding drunk either to drown the woes of the past year, or throw abandon to the wind for the future (that is, before throwing it up in the neighbours hedge, if they are lucky).

I always like the first day of the year more than the last. It’s waking up after a good night’s sleep instead of sinking in at the end of a day’s work. The first day is about looking forward, while the last is about looking back. The calendar marks a time of shift when things change for us auto-magically…or are supposed to. We only have to look at a clock face and drink champagne and ‘poof’, the world is supposed to be different. Is this what this time of year is about? 

Imposed change is somehow easier to stomach than voluntary change. Now is the time to get a list together of all the things that we are going to commit to make happen. Resolutions. We’ve all tried to make them, meanwhile knowing that we are allowed to let that commitment slide. When the sparkly hats disappear, why then does our resolve become less resolute? This is just a small meditation on the ‘magic’ of this season and how it inspires us…even if it is only via a sparkly hat and a sparkling glass of something or other. Bear with me here, but aren’t we now just a bit too cynical about the cyclical sense of inspiration that this cycle reiterates because it’s so cyclically disappointing when the magic fades again and again? 

Today I saw an elderly woman wearing a silver puffy coat five sizes too big for her. Add to that the fact that her face/head was tiny and extremely wrinkled to the point where she resembled a dried apple wrapped in a blanket of tin foil. I wondered what she would wish for at this time of year…a puffier head? A less puffy coat? Actually, she looked pretty happy to me (and warm!). 

I suggest making a resolution to begin a revolution against the cycle. As 2011 rolls over to 2012, I am reminded that change can happen at any time of the year. On reflection, I know I made the most of 2011, for all its ups and downs. I feel I have stayed true to my commitment to pursue what I define as a happy life, and also to the task at hand as best I could. But then the whole year was about change for me, so maybe I’m just resolved to continue what I’m doing – keep growing, keep hoping, keep sharing and keep caring. Okay, and smoke a few less cigarettes. Happy now? ;)

Very best wishes to all those hoping for something better, and courage to those who decide they are going to just find something…different. For my part, I do feel that there are things I could take greater affirmative action on (more writing please), and I’m conscious of those shortfalls that have tripped me up from time to time. In truth though, I mostly just look forward to seeing how this year will expand who I am, while aiming to keep that ‘sparkle’ in my life all year round. I’m optimistic. Hope you are too.

Random Girl