Tagged with humor

Does this booze blog have a mission statement?

Mission Statement for Year of Living Sober

What’s it all about?

Does this booze blog have a mission?

What about a ‘mission statement’?

In answering the big blog questions, today I thought it’d be cool to come up with my own mission statement for Year of Living Sober.

Cool?

Yeah.

Hey, why should Cadbury’s and Coca Cola have all the fun? Why can’t a lone blogger with a taste for wine and self-mortification get in on the core-value act? He can. He will. Here he goes…

What is this booze blog all about?

This is my 98th post. Coming up to my hundredth post here at Year of Living Sober (see what a great name I chose for this blog is, I mean talk about ‘saying what’s in the can, on the can’) I thought it was about time to answer this question of what’s the point of writing a blog about a social experiment in temporary teetotalism?

Sure, I’ve got a great slogan (Year of Living Sober: When a year off is on) and I’ve already covered some of my personal reasons for going without alcohol for a year HERE but precisely why did I decide to blog about it too? Where the hell is the YOLS mission statement?

“Why, Ben? Why? What are you trying to achieve with your YOLS blog?”

The answer is simple:

More HAPPY, less SAD.

“Does this booze blog have a mission?”

“Yes it does!”

YOLS blog is about creating ‘More Happy’ and ‘Less Sad’—for me and anyone else who gets it. Hopefully, that means YOU!

Apart from the added, and personally welcome, pressure which comes from making a public declaration about a goal or intention, by writing this blog I hoped to make a bit of a ‘statement’ about how to increase your quality of life too.

By removing any shame around my old habit, and just accepting it for what it had become—drinking alcohol almost every night—I wanted to say:

“Hey, it’s okay to try something new. It might even be a lot of fun.”

I wanted more happy and less sad.

Through my blog I wanted to focus on writing—something that brings me a lot of joy—about something else I also love, drinking; maybe NOT drinking could make me, and, by way of my writing about it in a fun way, others happier than if I’d just continued with my habit unchecked?

YEAR OF LIVING SOBER MISSION STATEMENT:

Year of Living Sober is about healthy evolution. What started with a simple goal for one guy (me!) to give up drinking alcohol for one year has, through the YOLS blog (and other social media) grown to express a broader philosophy and attitude towards drinking which could be succinctly expressed as a mission statement, in slightly corporate speak, thus:

By valuing humor, honesty, acceptance, and our ever present choice to make a healthy change, Year of Living Sober’s mission is to promote an alternative and fun approach to enjoying life—with or without alcohol.

So there you have it. My booze blog mission statement. I’m not trying to change the world but I am happy to play my part in a chain of change. While I never want to come off in anyway preachy or, heaven forbid (see what I did there?) condescending, I would love to create positive vibes which start from my tiny corner of the universe and maybe spread out to, oh, I don’t know? USA? Canada? England?—and wherever somebody, somewhere is waking up with a hangover and thinking “Maybe I should cut back on the drinking for a bit? Couldn’t hurt, could it?”

“No, it couldn’t,” is how I’d reply. “No it couldn’t hurt to take a break from booze for a while. Going from my experience, it might even help.”

My name is Ben and I’m a dipsomaniac.

Today is Day 237 of my Year of Living Sober.

Little Booze Joke

How many booze bloggers does it take to change a lightbulb? One. But he’’ll have at least two links to other booze blogs similar but different to his.

:)

How about you? Have you ever done a ‘Mission Statement’ for yourself? Love to get your comment.

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Is today your ‘Soberday One’? Temporary Teetotaller or Alcoholic, you’re not alone.

For a lot of people, today will be their first day sober. You could say, for them, today will be ‘Soberday One’. And on this Soberday One someone, somewhere in the world will make a resolve to give up drinking:

for a day

for a week

for a month (Month of Living Sober=MOLS)

for a year (Year of Living Sober=YOLS)

And maybe even…drum roll please…

…for a lifetime! (a lifetime of living sober=saving a truckload of cash, brain cells, and face: you’ll never have to say you’re sorry for throwing up in the back of a taxi again.)

It all starts today—the first day sober.

And though for others their life of either temporary or permanent teetotalism will start tomorrow, or next week maybe, whenever they do begin, they too will start a new life with Soberday One.

There’s no other way except one sober day at a time.

While ‘#soberday’ is one of the main hashtag handles I currently use to hook up with other Teetotaller (both temporary and permanent) Tweeters, however you refer to the first day of a sober life—and whether you are simply a big drinker taking a break, or an alcoholic finally committing to a booze-free life—the one thing connecting everyone who’s made a decision to accept their habit of alcohol consumption and make a go at changing it is: we all do it one sober day at a time.

Depending on our personal situation and personality we might be aiming for a week, a month, a year—or more—free from alcohol, but we all get to our goal one soberday after the next.

And why shouldn’t we encourage each other? No matter our various motivations for abstaining, or how long we’re each off the juice? After all, for one day at least, we’re all in the same booze-free boat.

Though I’ve never been to a 12-step meeting, from what I’ve heard, read and seen (Hollywood can be educative) I gather the idea you should focus only on the present is a big part of AA’s method of dealing with what could otherwise be an overwhelming thought of NEVER DRINKING AGAIN!

Sheesh!

“NEVER?”

For myself, that concept is too much at the moment. I can handle the idea of a year of living sober alright but contemplating NEVER DRINKING AGAIN sends me into all caps terror.

“BUT I LOVE DRINKING!”

“HOW WILL I CELEBRATE MY FOOTBALL TEAM WINNING?”

“WHAT IF I WANT TO SAY SOMETHING INAPPROPRIATE AND NEED AN EXCUSE?”

As challenging as the thought of giving up booze forever is however, there is another thought which makes it a bit easier to contemplate:

I’m not alone.

Today marks the day when a whole bunch of regular folk—some younger, some older, but, in that they normally enjoy a drink or three, all just like me—are ‘trying on’ a life without any alcohol.

Especially Down Under.

As of today (1st of July), and for the next 31 days, many of us Antipodeans will be passing on the liquor. Pub-loads of people who’ve signed up to Dry July begin a month without drinking any alcohol: today they begin one month sober.

So, to all you Dry July-ers, may I wish you…

“Happy Soberday One!”

And while I am not officially part of Dry July (or either of the similar groups, Febfast and Hello Sunday Morning) I definitely share a close kinship with fellow alcohol lovers who partake in Temporary Teetotalism—periods of alcohol abstinence with increased mental, physical and spiritual health as the main goals.

I too have had my Soberday One.

Now, having gone 233 days without a drink, I’m looking forward to hearing from other former drinkers about how they’re going on their #MOLS (Month of Living Sober). If you’re doing Dry July I’d love to hear from you (either via a comment on this blog or send me an email). And I’ll be Twittering like a mad Twitterer (are there any other kind?) through all July.

And beyond. After Dry July it’s still three more months dry for me! I’m on my YOLS until 11/11/2012.

My name is Ben and I’m a dipsomaniac.

Today is Day 234 of my Year of Living Sober.

Little Booze Joke

A black sheep walks into a bar bar.

:)

How about you? Have you ever had a month off the booze? Was your ‘Soberday One’ a long time ago? Love to get your comment.

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Is a year too much? How about a month of living sober?

A ‘MOLS’ is not a lot of moles.

READ ALL ABOUT IT!! BREAKING HEADLINES…

Antipodean Alcohol Aficionados Give Up Drinking!

Ozzies and Kiwis Party Booze-free!

Big Banks Cut Home Loan Interest Rates To All-time Low?

:)

I know.

Some crazy headlines are impossible to believe. But it’s true. In a couple of days hundreds, maybe thousands of Australians and New Zealanders will do something they normally never would.

For a whole month.

No, they won’t stop poking fun at each other over how to say ‘fush un chups’—or who has a better rugby team (as an Ozzie I guess I should say us, but to be honest I don’t really follow rugby), or who can rightly claim Russell Crowe as one-of-their-own (one country bore him, the other ‘made’ him)—all those habitual behaviours will go on. However, another shared interest, perhaps shared love, will not continue. I’m talking about…

…drinking.

Drinking alcohol—to be precise.

Now, and as anyone who’s been to the Walkabout pubs in London (and their equivalent drinking barns in America and around the world) will attest to, Ozzies and New Zealanders LOVE a drink. That’s why it’s especially interesting how for a whole month, and as part of a ‘Dry’ July, big drinkers from both countries will voluntarily submit to a MOLS.

‘Dry July’ is pretty self-explanatory (and you can check out their website HERE for what they’re all about) but exactly what is a MOLS?

In this blog called Year of Living Sober I often abbreviate my personal current mission to not drink any alcohol for a year by referring to my ‘YOLS’. Obviously then, if you are not drinking for one month you are on the equivalent acronym of a ‘MOLS’: a Month of Living Sober.

“I’m not drinking for a month. I’m on a MOLS.”

But a word of warning for anyone thinking about using #mols on Twitter or updating their Facebook status to “I start my MOLS today!” Be careful not to let your MOLS be confused with ‘molls’ or ‘moles’.

In America a moll is a ‘gangster’s female companion’—but it is also the generic name for a mexican sauce (not sure if there is an ingredient relationship there!). And, although spelt differently, a ‘mole’ is also a cute creature that burrows underground (something some MOLLers might feel like doing after week one sober!).

In Australia a mole is a lady at her worst. The phrase “You f*ckin mole” was a common one in the suburb I grew up in (the fact it was so common possibly being a contributing factor to why I moved to London for six years. But I digress).

A moll and a mole may be animals of their own making but somebody—of either sex—doing a MOLS is a whole new creature, a re-created self, emerging from the pubs, clubs and parties to boldly go where no moll and few moles have ever been before:

Temporary Teetotalsville.

And for anyone thinking about doing a month of living sober (MOLS) some time soon (whether as part of Dry July which starts on 1st July—this Sunday) or like me, off your own bat) you might enjoy a post which became a page on this blog.

Early on in my YOLS I came up with a list of ’10 Reasons To Give Up Alcohol For 1 Year’. It occurred to me this morning how you can pretty much replace ‘Year’ for ‘Month’ in that list and it works just as well. Cool, hey?

And finally fellow drinkers-intrigued-by-the-notion-of-not-drinking-for-a-while, if and when you do decide to take a break from booze for a month, and if somebody should unwittingly tempt you off your month of sobriety by offering you a drink, simply look them in the eye, smiling as you reply…

“Thanks but no thanks. I’m on a MOLS.”

“Huh?”

“A month of living sober.”

My name is Ben and I’m a dipsomaniac.

Today is Day 232 of my Year Of Living Sober.

N.B. In a future post I’ll explore what it means to be on a DOLS. And for those on TWITTER using #mols, also look out for the hashtag #soberday whenever you feel like having one.

Little Booze Joke

A mole scurries into a bar and the barman says, “Sorry, we don’t serve animals here.” The mole, undeterred, claws his way up onto a bar stool and whacks a fifty-dollar-bill onto the bar and says, “That’s okay, I’m a VEGETARIAN. Besides, I’m not hungry. Now GIVE ME A BEER!”:)

How about you? Have you ever had a month off the booze? Love to get your comment.

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What is a Dipsomaniac?

Previously on this blog I’ve asked the question “Are you an Alcoholic or a Dipsomaniac?”. In that post I touched on what defined a dipsomaniac but today I thought it was worth expanding on some more, just to make sure I understand what I think I might be, which is:

a dipsomaniac.

But what is a dipsomaniac?

Is it someone who’s crazy about going for lots of quick, short swims?

Is it someone who enjoys rollercoasters but with an inordinate amount of their satisfaction coming from the “Weeeeee we’re going down now!!” part of the ride?

Or is a dipsomaniac someone who takes near erotic pleasure from checking the car engine oil?

“Hmmm. Might need half a litre? Better fill her up until she’s over the line. Yes! Yes!! Yes!!!”

Actually, no, no and….no. A dipsomaniac is none of those things. A dipsomaniac is someone who drinks alcohol. A lot. A lot of alcohol drinker is a dipsomaniac. You would say a dipsomaniac suffers from dipsomania which is defined thus in my dictionary:

dipsomania |ˌdipsəˈmānēə|
noun
alcoholism, specifically in a form characterized by intermittent bouts of craving for alcohol.

A dipsomaniac suffers from dipsomania which is a form of alcoholism. Therefore, going by this definition a dipsomaniac is a form of alcoholic.

That means, drum roll….

I am a form of alcoholic.

But don’t worry, unlike the full-blown Alcoholic the form of alcoholic I have taken is a socially acceptable form. I am the type of alcoholic who drinks every week (before my YOLS) but doesn’t think he has a habit; I am the type of alcoholic who drinks to heighten life’s highs and smooth over life’s rough and boring bits; I am the type of alcoholic nobody admits to being:

A part-time Alky.

But maybe that’s okay? Maybe a dipsomaniac can live a whole life just fine as only a bit of an alcoholic? And though I know many full-time alcoholics describe anyone who has any kind of urging to drink alcohol ever as an Alcoholic, I do not think of myself as a capital ‘A’ Alcoholic. I think of myself as a dipsomaniac, a capital ‘D’ Dipsomaniac.

Sure, by my own admission that is someone who suffers from ‘a form of alcoholism’ but I think there is an important—if slight—difference between the two; I do not consider myself an alcoholic because of my…

intermittent bouts of craving for alcohol’

When I was drinking alcohol I rarely drank before lunch time and I would occasionally have Monday or Tuesday (a couple of times both!) completely boozefree. Therefore, according to the definition, I am a dipsomaniac because I don’t (didn’t) drink all day every day but I do crave a drink intermittently.

Before my YOLS the ‘intermittent’ status of my cravings was what saved me from having to admit to myself I had any kind of problem with booze. My thinking was, and still sometimes is, “I’m not a proper, capital A alcoholic because I didn’t/don’t drink in bed; I wasn’t/am not an alcoholic because I have never wee’d in my pants (though drinking multiple pints of beer in London then catching the tube home led to many close calls); and I wasn’t an alcoholic because I had that belated weekend off, those two nights of the week I spent sober.

Two out of seven sober days? Hmmm, that means five out of seven nights drinking? Oh, wait—maybe I was a little more attached to drinking than I cared to admit.

Come to think of it I would occasionally even drink booze in bed too. I seem to remember finishing a stubbie in bed a couple of times—while winding down from a late gig, or after a party, or when the footy was finished and I was still going on a six-pack or…

Oh.

And pre-YOLS I also caught myself debating about whether to go to a party or function if there wasn’t going to be alcohol served. More than once I gave considered thought to how long it would be until I got home from said teetotaler occasions and would be able to open a bottle of wine.

But that’s normal isn’t it. Everyone loves a drink now and then. Don’t they? I mean, only intermittently.

My name is Ben and I’m a dipsomaniac.

Today is Day 229 of my Year Of Living Sober.

Little Booze Joke

A dipsomaniac walks into a bar and the barman says “You again?”

:)

What about you? Are you a bit of a dipsomaniac too? Or do you find labels too restrictive? Love to get your comment.

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What Everyone Should Know About Temporary Teetotalism

 

Goin’ a year without a drink ain’t all beer and skittles

Right now I feel like crap.

And a beer.

At 5:56pm—after bathing our two baby girls and preparing dinner at the end of a day which included visiting a relative in hospital and writing blog articles and editing my latest manuscript—I feel crap and I feel like a beer.

Do I feel like having a beer because I feel crap or do I feel crap because I feel like having a beer? Not sure? A beer would be great though. Then a glass of wine.

Or four.

But, since I decided many months ago on going sober for a year, I won’t be having any of those. There won’t be one alcoholic drink for me. Instead, I’m going to write. I’m going put aside my Day 221 cravings (mental? physical?) to write about what I think everyone should know about temporary teetotalism, which is:

Sometimes ya’ feel like crap.

Now, as I grew aware of my current inner struggle on my Year of Living Sober, and as I thought about ‘writing out’ the ‘negative energy, man’ a big part of me said, “Hey Ben, don’t write about the crap stuff. Stick to the uplifting, jovial posts about how good it is to be sober, about how much money you’re saving—or some other positive benefit that sounds positively twee when you’re in the middle of a craving. Don’t let your guard down and tell the world your old habit of nightly drinking has reared its snappy head demanding to be soothed with some booze—any booze, goddamnit! Make up another Little Booze Joke or something FUN!”

“Wow,” replied my other self (I am a Gemini!). “Seems like you’ve got a strong opinion about keeping mum on the down side to temporary teetotalism. Thanks for sharing, but if you don’t mind, I’m going to go ahead and write whatever I bloody well feel like—thank me very much.”

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said. “Don’t you want people to think you are handling your year off booze easily? Like, ‘boozefree is a breeze, man’?”

“Sure,” I replied to myself. “But only if that’s the truth. If the truth is sometimes on my YOLS I feel like a drink, then I reckon that’s worth sharing too.”

And so it went.

And here I am—sharing the crap.

In the end, the part of me that wanted to share everything won out over the protective, secretive part. After all this blog did start out as a daily account of how I was handling self-imposed sobriety. These blogging adventures into temporary teetotalism began as a daily journal: from Day 1 to Day 69 I didn’t miss a day.

And whether I was suffering from detoxification symptoms, pondering the alcohol level of overripe bananas or admitting how mowing lawns made me beer-thirsty, I wrote about anything that was on my mind.

After the birth of my second daughter, I eased off on the Post Publishing Pedal to about two or three times a week. As a result some of the posts ended up being more summaries of a week or so’s revelations. Other posts I even got a bit funny on (See Ten Funniest Alcohol and Bar Jokes Ever!). But today it’s back to the cold, hard reality of a wine lover without any wine.

And perhaps that’s a good thing? After all this whole YOLS business is probably more about the crap times than the good. It’s about the times when my habits reveal themselves for what they are: unconscious behaviours which have evolved to suppress normal fluctuations in every day life: some days are up, some days are down; some days are stressful, some days are celebratory; some days I don’t obsess about the fact I’m not allowing myself a drink, some days I do.

With a Year of Living Sober I wanted to see what life was like without alcohol. So far I’ve found out one thing I think everybody ought to know about temporary teetotalism: it’s hard. Sometimes it’s really hard. Almost like I imagine what an alcoholic feels like (not that I would EVER consider myself one!), and why so many capital A Alcoholics are encouraged to take it ‘one day at a time’.

That’s about all I can handle today too.

One day, one night.

Feeling…shit.

Though part of me didn’t want to write about how I felt tonight I’m glad I did. So I guess it’s lucky I don’t always listen to myself. Especially when the part doing the talking wants a beer more than anything else on earth.

My name is Ben and I’m a social experiment.

Today is Day 222 of my YOLS (Year Of Living Sober).

Little Booze Joke

A giraffe walks into a bar and the barman says “Sorry mate, we don’t serve Heineken here”.

:)

Badda boom boom bang bang!

What about you? Have you ever felt like crap when giving something up? Were you close to giving in to your desire but managed to survive a close call? Love to get your comment.

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Are you a happy, angry, lustful or know-it-all drunk?

I am lustful.

Not when I’m drunk (well, not always)—what I mean is I have a lust for life. I love life. And one thing I love to do in life is…drink.

That’s right. I love to have a drink. An alcoholic drink.

Drinky, dinky, drinky do doo!

“But why would someone who loves drinking choose to stop for a year?” I hear you wonder (ESP being one of the unsung benefits of sobriety).

Good question.

Well, it’s because I love to drink I decided to take a year off drinking. And not only would I not get drunk for a year, I wouldn’t even take a sip. You see I didn’t want to let da’ drink take over to da’ point where and when (hopefully never) I could no longer enjoy alcohol in moderation.

And that was in danger of happening.

When I began my YOLS I was lucky to have one or, at the most, two nights in seven off booze.

And that had to change. Because maybe I was missing out on something? Maybe not drinking alcohol for a year would give me more than a break from the odd (very odd?) regrettable drunken outburst or pig-out.

The way I figured it life is too short to stumble through unconsciously, throwing each foot out in a mindless march towards the grave, without ever venturing off the well worn track of habitual nightly intoxication to dance your own dance in the great garden of varied sublime sober experience.

For too long I had gone with the flow (a flow which began somewhere around the age of fifteen and my First Time Pissed) but now I’ve re-chanelled my kinetic energy and am in a new flow. A flow that is not controlled by a hungover mind, a flow that is inspired by a simple, yet profound change. I’ve broken a habit of drinking alcohol almost every night simply by deciding not to.

I woke up one day and decided not to drink for the next 365. And the nights too.

Year of Living Sober-Ben's sayings

But it wasn’t just my curiosity about what life would like be like if I didn’t drink alcohol at all—how would abstinence affect my social, work and family life—I wanted a break from wondering if after having a few too many I’d said or done something a bit angrier or more arrogant than I otherwise would have?

Maybe I wasn’t always a happy drunk?

And if it’s true what Rumi says in one of his poems, that…

“The source of your arrogance and anger is your lust
And the rootedness of that is in your habits.”

…then maybe I am not only breaking a habit bad for my health—by not drinking for a year, but I’m also breaking a habit I wasn’t even aware I had: a habit of arrogance and anger.

Me? Angry?

Moi? Arrogant?

Never. Surely?

Sometimes. Sure.

But maybe even less now I’ve been sober for 217 days?

And whether I was a happy, angry, lustful or know-it-all drunk—or a combination of all those and more—I haven’t had any excuse for anything I’ve done, said or thought in all that time. Except for being human. And maybe that’s all I need now?

My name is Ben and I’m a social experiment.

Today is Day 218 of my YOLS (Year Of Living Sober).

Little Booze Joke

A sex maniac walks into a busy bar and the bartender says, “What would you like?” and the sex maniac looks around the bar and says “Her. Her. Her. Her. Him. Her. Her. Them. Her. Her. Her. That. Her. Her. You?”

Badda bing a-ding-a-ling boom boom!

How about you? Are you a happy drunk or a know-it-all? Does alcohol make you a bit quick to anger sometimes? Are these questions too confronting to even consider? Do share…

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Do you like to make lists?

Sometimes a pen is not a phallus. It's just a pen!

Do you like to make lists?

I do. I like to make lists. And a driving force behind how much I like to make lists is how much I like to count.

Also I’m an Obsessive Compulsive.

Whether these urges are related or not I can’t say—but if they are I blame Sesame Street (and especially The Count*). And okay, though I haven’t actually been diagnosed with OCD that doesn’t stop me counting things ALL THE TIME occasionally.

I like to make lists and I like to count. To prove my point here is…

A Sober List of Seven Lists I’ve Made

“Ah, ah, ah, ah AHHHHH!”*

1. I made a list of all the places where I’ve spent New Years Eve, from my first, in Manchester (where I was born) to the most recent in Melbourne (where I’ve lived most of my life)—and every year in between.

From the age of sixteen or seventeen, for over two decades, I’ve been drunk going into the vast majority of new years. I think maybe half-a-dozen times I was sober (or close to sober) as the clock chimed twelve?

Come to think of it, it’s probably more like only two or three times when I didn’t get drunk on NYE. And one of those times I was flying with a Muslim carrier and the one plastic ‘glass’ of ‘champagne’ they gave out might have already got the cat who drank it (and pissed it out again) drunk but it wasn’t doing any of us western riff-raff any tipsy favors!

2. I made a list of all the acting jobs I’ve ever had.

It was called an Actor’s Biog and I only retired it when I took a semi-permanent-maybe-permanent break from acting a couple of years ago. Alcohol and acting never mixed for me. Unlike some of the old pantomime vaudeville-trained actors I met in England, I never was one to take a swig from a hidden flask before taking the stage. I did, however get wild drunk after the show. Lots of shows; lots of wilds. Will there be an encore? Who knows.

3. I made a list of all the schools I’ve been to.

- 9 primary schools (including multiples in Ballarat, Sydney, Perth and Los Angeles)
- 3 high schools (one in Sydney, two in Melbourne)
- 2 universities
- 2 TAFE colleges

Total ‘schools’: 16

Having experienced so many different curriculums I reckon I have a good excuse for any bad spelling and grammar I might still have. It is also my excuse for my hidden resentment of anyone who did hang on long enough to get their degree. Bastards. Educated Bastards.

My gypsy childhood may also have contributed to a belief I held for many years that I needed to do whatever it took to fit in with each new group of people I met. Often, that meant drinking alcohol. From high school parties to University orientation days, there was always another excuse to get blind and HILARIOUS!

4. I made a list of all the songs I’ve ever written.

Granted, since I’m up to about 267 songs, this one is helpful. It’s fun to look back and play some oldies (to me!) but goodies by picking out random titles. Interestingly, in terms of this YOLS caper, I have never written finished writing one song drunk or while drinking. A few have spilled out the morning after but most of my songs—and all my other ‘writings’—have emerged from a clear sober state. My quiet mind is plenty busy with creativity without being disturbed by da drink.

5. I made a list of all the books I gave away or sold when I moved back to Melbourne after living in London for six years.

This list was made with the idea I could replace all my ‘cherished but heavy’ books upon my ‘travelling light’ return (I haven’t yet but maybe that list will prove handy someday?). Reading is like writing for me—something else I can’t do drunk. In fact, mostly, I don’t even like to have one or two drinks when I read. I need me my focus.

6. I made a list of domain names I’ve bought thinking they might be good to use one day.

Still not exactly sure what I’m going to do with yisyot.com (though it did inspire the working title of a novel I’ve drafted). Also, though I try not to drink and shop online, I think I may have had a few bevvies when I considered buying www.whats-it-all-about.com and www.why-is-my-life-a-mess.com. Luckily I sobered up in time before typing in my credit-card number.

7. I made a list of all the girls I ever slept with.

It probably goes without saying how alcohol played a part in the creation of this list too. I mean, I can’t remember for sure (there’s a hint, Ben) but I reckon I was probably boozed up for, oh, let’s just say 90% (?) of my first sexual encounters with new lovers. I’m sure it didn’t affect my performance at all though (if any ex-girlfriends do feel the need to comment on this post all I ask is PLEASE remember the good times).

It probably also goes without saying that as I’m now a happily married man, these days my wife remembers that last list better than me. Especially the final number.

I’ve made other lists too. Many of which are useful lists which serve a definite purpose. Things like a wedding invitation list, a book launch invitation list and a list of things we were meant to take to the hospital in case of an emergency C-section (lucky we did make that list).

And then I guess this blog is a list too. In a way. It’s a list of the days during my Year of Living Sober when I’ve felt I had something to share about my booze-free journey which might be interesting, entertaining—or hopefully a little bit of both—to someone, somewhere out there in interworldwidewebdom.

So if you’ve come this far in today’s post, and especially if you happen to be interested in exploring the idea of disciplining your drinking a bit, maybe you’d like to start a list of your own? If you’d like a kickstarter for your list here’s another one of mine: Ten Reasons to Give Up Alcohol For One Year.

My name is Ben and I’m a social experiment.

Today is Day 215 of my YOLS (Year Of Living Sober).

Little Booze Joke

An obsessive compulsive walks into a bar and starts counting the pretzels. Then he counts the beer mats. Then he counts the light-fittings. Then he counts…

Badda boom boom!

How about you? How’s your NYE sober-to-drunk ratio? Do you remember many of them? Maybe you like making other kind of lists? Love to get your comment.

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Do you ever feel fractious? I do.

Yesterday was hard.

The alcohol withdrawal symptoms almost got the better of me. Almost.

Okay, my year off booze wasn’t the cause of one of those freaky cold-turkey scenes you see in the movies—like when some poor soul coming off smack spews buckets of black vomit and levitates off a sweat soaked bed, breaking the restraining chains and leather belts employed to keep the addict grounded while the evil spirits (Heroin? Ice? Sportsdrinks? etc…) squirm free—but I did have a detox moment.

I chucked a fit like a two-year-old girl.

Now hopefully I can say that without upsetting any mummys and daddys out there. After all I am a ‘Daddy!’ and I have been watching my eldest girl—who is not yet quite two—throw the type of fit I have been talking about, the type of fit I had.

Hers goes something like this.

“Waaah! Waaah! Waaaah!”

“What’s wrong darling?” I’ll say gently. “What do you want?”

“Waaah. Waaah! Waaah!” she goes again. “I DON’T KNOW!”

“Would you like some grapes?”

“NO!”

“Would you like a banana?”

“NO!”

“Do you want to go to sleep for a while?”

“NO!”

And so it continues until either a booga is found to be the cause of the upset or the television with colorful wiggly furry fun entices our child out of her funk.

“What was that all about?” I’ll say to my wife.

“She doesn’t know what she wants,” says Mrs YOLS wisely, “but she knows she wants something.”

That’s it exactly!

Same for me. Sometimes—like yesterday when I was overcome with a frustratingly difficult to pin-point feeling of unease and irritability—I feel just like my baby girl does. Even today, trying to find the right word to describe my frustration at not being able to have a drink (because of my commitment to a year off booze) and wanting one desperately (but not bad enough to really think about giving up my YOLS) is very difficult.

They say good writing is light on the adjectives but today—f*ck it. Today, and to describe my mood yesterday evening (between the hours of about five and seven) I need ‘em all. Yesterday I was:

irritable, tetchy, cranky, ornery, cantankerous, irascible, bad-tempered, grumpy, grouchy, crotchety, petulant, crabby, crusty, curmudgeonly, ill-tempered, ill-humored, peevish, cross, fractious, pettish, prickly, short-fused, waspish, snappish, snippy.

Like my baby daughter I knew I wanted something but I didn’t know what. So I had to frown and bear it. Luckily, my opposite of good-humored state didn’t last long. After a couple proddings from Mrs YOLS I enjoyed dinner, a little crappy telly, and some time on the couch playing with my new camera (a birthday present for the whole family really—considering I’ll be taking a zillion snaps of the girls as they grow through the many stages of intriguing human development).

“You should blog about this,” said Mrs YOLS. “Tonight, how you were feeling without a drink. You don’t write enough about the hard times, when you’re struggling. You should.”

“You’re right,” I said. “I will.”

And now I have. And now you know. It ain’t all plain sober sailing when you’ve spent a life drinking regularly and you wake up one day and decide to take a break for the next 365. But the good news is, if you are ever overcome by a similar urge to cut down on your alcohol consumption for a time, know this:
Even if you’re a man, sometimes it’s perfectly fine to be a girl.

My name is Ben and I’m a social experiment.

Today is Day 211 of my YOLS (Year Of Living Sober).

Little Booze Joke

A toddler carrying a rattle walks into a bar and the bartender says “Sorry, we don’t serve minors?” and the toddler says, “What does this look like? Coal?”

Badda bing zing!

How about you? Are there days when you know what you don’t want more than what you do? Are there other days when you don’t know what you want but know it’s something you haven’t got damn it? Always love to get your comments.

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Inspiration and Self-help for a Boozefree Life

Persian Poet, Jelaluddin Rumi (1207-1273)

This morning I got this message on Twitter:

“You’ve inspired me to have an AFD today! #Gottastartsomewhere”

Though being an inspiration for others to cut down on drinking alcohol wasn’t the goal of starting this blog (I’m assuming AFD means ‘Alcohol Free Day’), I’ve gotta say it is kind of nice knowing what you’re doing is having a positive affect on someone, somewhere, sometime.

I also recently discovered another blogger had been inspired by this blog too, having taken to including a joke in the same format as I do on my posts here on her blog (Obsolescence Project). She even gave me credit in a couple of posts, something I think was very kind considering I was, no doubt, inspired by someone else, somewhere, sometime to write the Little Booze Jokes in the way I do. And along with the Tweet it was another great reminder to me of something I think is true yet don’t always remember:

We each affect the other.

Positively and negatively. And so it goes on down the domino line.

As much as I believe in free-will and self-determination I know from my own life how others have changed me. And one of the most profound ways I have been changed is from things I have read, in particularly some great non-fiction.

While this blog post is DIRECTLY inspired by my two new social media friends (SMF’s?) mentioned above I’m not just talkin’ Twitter and blogs here. I’m talkin’ paper-made books too.

Over the years I’ve read a lot of self-help and human development books. From Louise Hay’s ‘You Can Heal Your Life’ to Stuart Wilde’s ‘Miracles’ I’ve read scores of different authors takes on how to live in the moment with complete acceptance of what you have created and what you are capable of creating (pretty much anything you concentrate on).

And while even if I don’t love each book or author in the same way, or to the same degree, I have always benefited from a new perspective. I’ve always taken away something positive from every good book I’ve read (and some of the bad).

But it’s not just non-fiction that has helped me. Fiction too has given me great insight into human behaviour, and therefore, my own habits, idiosyncrasies and hang ups. In this way I guess even the great classics like ‘Robinson Crusoe’, ‘Great Expectations’ and ‘1984’ could be seen as ‘self-help’ in that by putting myself in the hero’s shoes I learn how I might act under similar circumstances and how I might better my lot, by becoming more aware of my own and other’s human nature.

What wisdom did Shakespeare share about alcohol?

“O God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains!” William Shakespeare, Othello

Then there is poetry too.

Though I don’t own much, I do value the few books of poetry I have. Most of them are by Rumi. Often, when feeling a certain wistfulness or quiet melancholy I turn to Rumi for solace. He always comes up with the goods

Here’s one of my favourite Rumi snippets, one I think relates nicely to anyone thinking about taking a break from boozin hard.

“Diminish what you give your physical self, your spiritual eye will begin to open.” RUMI

Today, right now, I am concentrating on my spirit—or ‘soul’ if you prefer. I am open to experiencing more clarity and depth in my spiritual life and that is why I am diminishing what I give my physical self.

And as I said at the beginning of this post it’s not just the great authors and poets who inspire me, every message of support and comment from readers sharing something about their journey with alcohol and self-control spurs me on and inspires me with the knowledge this is a blog worth doing.

For a year at least. Maybe longer?

My name is Ben and I’m a social experiment.

Today is Day 208 of my YOLS (Year Of Living Sober).

Little Booze Joke

A poet walks into a bar and the bartender says “What do you feel like today?” and the poet says, “A shipwrecked vessel battered by storms off the very rocks which stranded me.” The bartender stabs his own hand with a cocktail stick. The End.

 

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Could you give up chocolate for a year?

If you look closely you'll see the packet is...empty. Completely.

Could you give up chocolate for a year?

My wife couldn’t.

I’m not sure I could either. Probably though. But the real reason I ask this question, other than to share one couple’s co-dependency on cocoa, is because I reckon giving up chocolate for some people, especially some ‘female’ people, would be the equivalent to the average bloke giving up his nightly boozin’.

At the risk of sounding slightly sexist, chicks love sweeties. Especially chocolate sweeties. And I think the female consumer of dopamine delivery delicacies would choose chocolate over alcohol almost every time. Whereas your average bloke (and aren’t there plenty of them around ladies!), if he had to choose ONE, would choose booze instead.

Gals love Cadburys like blokes love Fosters; birds dig Darrell Lea like boys dig Guinness; women pine for Ferrero Rocher like man mulls over whether to have a can of lager or a bottle of lager.

“Hmmm. Maybe I’ll have both.”

See for some women (and sure, plenty of men, too) chocolate is a habit. A bad habit. An ‘I-must-have-some-every-day-or-I’ll-punch-somebody-in-the-ear’ habit. While my habit under review here at Year of Living Sober is nightly drinking, for a lot a’ women folk (lucky I got over that worry about comin’ off sexist, hey?) regular boozing isn’t an issue at all. For some—my wife included—the issue is addiction to…

CHOCOLATE!!

And I see a relationship between the habit of drinking booze every day and the habit of eating chocolate every day. As I’ve said on this blog before you don’t have to be an alcoholic to find the habit of drinking difficult to break. For many people a couple of glasses of wine after work is just lovely. Others enjoy a few beers between getting home and going to sleep to prepare for another long day. But then there are others still who can do without a drink but wouldn’t think about hitting the hay without chompin’ down a couple blocks of Cadburys, nibblin’ on some Nestlé or manically munching through a mound of M and M’s.

Now I haven’t done any study to prove my claim but I’m pretty sure if you asked a hundred women which they’d prefer to give up out of chocolate and alcohol—for a year, at least 51% would say they would forgo alcohol. Like I said before, booze isn’t a problem for my wife. Without even trying she hasn’t had a drink since I started my year of living sober either. Alcohol just doesn’t do it for her anymore. But chocolate does.

Chocolate really does it for my wife. Chocolate does it for my wife like Debbie does it for Dallas.

Take what happened the other day as an example. On a break from my daily writing quota I took my toddler daughter up to the shops for a walk around (it’s winter in Melbourne and none of us—my wife and four-month-old daughter included—had been out of the house) and to pick up a few things. I got what we needed but also returned with a surprise. Along with an Apple Strudel for the next day’s morning tea guests I‘d brought home a pack of chocolate coated red liquorice bullets. They’re one of my wife’s favourites. But I was a little surprised by her reaction. The Strudel got a big thumbs up from the Mrs but the bullets received a mixed welcome.

“What did you get those for?”

You see da’ Mrs loves dem but she also hates dem. She has no control when it comes to these chocky bullets. Once opened, even a big packet won’t last beyond the good-television part of the night (somewhere between 7:30pm and 7:35pm). That’s why she said I was cruel for buying her chocolate bullets.

“It’s like me opening up a can of beer and putting it in front of you,” was how she put it. “How would you like that?”

Actually, it wouldn’t be a problem for me now. I’ve resolved to stick with the remaining 161 days of my YOLS and one measly can of beer wouldn’t be enough to tempt me off the holy-than-my-older-thou-self path. But what my gorgeous life-partner was talking about is of course…temptation.

For me the thing I used to be tempted by was alcohol; for my wife it still is chocolate.

“So why don’t you see if you can go a year without eating chocolate?” I suggested.

“And why don’t you see if you can stick both feet in your arse,” replied wife.

No she didn’t. But we did laugh together about the impossibility of her giving up chocolate for a year. And even if she could do it I’m not sure I’d want her to. Then I wouldn’t be able to nick a row of Snack, Fruit n’ Nut or whatever else has her fancy that particular night. I mean giving up alcohol for a year is alright but I don’t think I could live without chocolate for 12 months as well.

I’m only a man.

:)

My name is Ben and I am a social experiment.

Today is Day 204 of my Year of Living Sober.

Little Booze Joke

A block of chocolate walks into a bar, looks around and then turns, disappointed, to the bartender and says, “What? No nuts?”

HOW ABOUT YOU? WOULD YOU PREFER TO GIVE UP ALCOHOL OR CHOCOLATE FOR A YEAR? DO YOU THINK THERE IS A GENDER BIAS TOWARDS LINDT? DO SHARE.

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