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May 27, 2008
James M. Dean
I've just finished training behind the bar at a local restaurant for my summer job. I'll be helping the bartenders as a "barback" - an assistant that does everything from filling the ice wells to preparing garnishes to stocking alcohol. It seemed quite ironic to me that I ended up in this position - an AlcoholEdu blogger working behind the bar. I've come to realize that "barbacking" is just a job like any other, but quite useful in the sense that every weekend I witness the most IDIOTIC escapades from my bunker behind the counter. Not only that, but I also have the pleasure of watching most patrons work their way up to that drunken stupor in a haze of colorful shots and mixed drinks. And I can't even start to explain how annoying it gets when these same individuals mistake me for a bartender at least five times a night - THERE ARE ONLY THREE PEOPLE WORKING BEHIND THE BAR.
The usual Friday night begins with groups of twentysomethings pushing through the door around 11 p.m. past bouncers that look like Shrek - except without the green skin and a much longer criminal record. The undergrads - as well as an alarming supply of middle-aged, creatine-infused, artificially tanned "businessmen" - rush towards the bar like it's the last day before Prohibition. I've never seen so many underage drinkers - sometimes I catch a glimpse of an I.D. and want to ask the bouncers if they've ever heard of McLovin from Superbad. While the customers wait to order, many of them "scope out the scene" dotted with sorority sisters on a "girl's night out" or older women who still haven't found that sugar daddy. As the drinking commences, I have the privilege of moving from one end of the bar to the other picking up and washing glassware - I feel like I am only throwing fuel on the fire. The conversations become increasingly slurred and incoherent - of course, in between the frequent questioning of my status as a bartender - and eventually reach a yelling volume when the D.J. spins crowd favorites. From about 11 p.m. to 2 a.m. I never stop moving - there is always a used glass to grab, an empty glass to fill, or a broken glass to sweep up.
Sometimes I feel like the fruits of my labor are contradictory - at the end of the night I walk home with a pocketful of cash from tips, but I also feel like I played a part in the fight that broke out on the dance floor or the arrest of the staggering man who puked in the road after too many shots. I can't let myself feel this way; I'm only doing my job like any other respectable employee. These people have a head on their shoulders just like mine to make logical decisions and determine what may be going just "a little bit too far."
I see the bar as a testing grounds - the temptation to abuse is tangible, sitting there in those colorful, foreign bottles in the cooler or on the high shelves. Your friends are calling out drink names like they're ordering from the Dollar Menu at McDonald's. The birthday girl is being fed shots from every angle of her seat at the center of the bar. Now it's your turn to order. I'm watching.
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May 19, 2008
Owen O'Brien
Costa Rica
Last night, I sprinted a mile home through a tropical thunderstorm, soaking myself to the bone.Within minutes of the onset of the downpour, rushing rainwater had completely flooded the streets and sidewalks. Trees swayed every which way, dancing to the passionate beat of the wind. My eyes smiled and my heart raced with a newfound sense of adventure. I sensed something click inside of me: This felt right.
Last Saturday, the sounds of wildlife sang to me as I climbed the mountaintop trees of Cartago. The view from my perch nearly brought me to tears: ocean-blue rivers rushed through green valleys, roaring waterfalls carved their way through treacherous cliffs, colorful birds swooped fearlessly through the crisp air. I have been searching for this place for as long as I can remember. I am here.
Last week, I turned twenty years old. Last week, I took a leap of faith and flew to an entirely foreign country entirely alone. Last week, I began trying - and even cooking - foods that I didn't even know existed. Last week, I put my shy-natured fears aside and started friendships with some of the most interesting and adventurous people I have ever met. Last week, I moved to Costa Rica.
Before all of this, I had forgotten how fulfilling life could be.
Here, in San Joaquin de Flores, I find myself constantly inspired by the people, the culture, and the landscape around me. From dawn til dusk, I explore and observe this new world with childlike curiosity: the mountains that surround this town, the new language, the lively parks, and most of all, the pura vida.
Directly translated, pura vida means the ¨pure life.¨ But to Costa Ricans - and now me as well - pura vida means so much more. Pura vida is a way of seeing the world and living life. Pura vida is the best of the best, the most perfect existence, the calmest state of mind. Pura vida is the greatest happiness attainable.
Flory, the mother of the Costan Rican family with whom I will be living for the next two months, is the physical embodiment of the pura vida. She dances, sings, cooks, embroiders, writes poetry, and paints. Whenever we walk the streets of San Joaquin together, she makes at least one new friend. When she hugs me goodnight, she tells me that I will sleep with the angels. Calm and generous, always smiling, she is the friendliest, happiest, and most loving woman I have ever met. Had she not confided in me two days ago, I would have never known that she lost two children and a husband within the past seven years.
I was sitting with Flory in the kitchen, learning how to fry plaintains, when she told me about her lost loved ones. The spatula falling from my hand, I stood speechless. No matter how hard I tried, I could not find words of comfort -- words that would make it all better. I don't think I would have been able to find them in English either: her tragic loss was unimaginable to me. Through my silence, she saw the melancholy and fear etched on my face and knew exactly what to say.
"Owen, I know there are hard times, but you have to always be calm, you have to always be optimistic. Although I have experienced hardships, I still know that life is mostly good times. Life is so happy."
Flory smiled sincerely and continued.
"It is all about the way you look at things. If you let the hard times close you off from the world and let them convince you that the world is sad and miserable, you, too, will be sad and miserable. But if you can see how happy and how beautiful life is -- and allow yourself to risk pain by living life to the fullest -- then you will be happy. You will be truly happy. This is the pura vida."
With this conversation, with my time so far in Costa Rica, and with my own efforts to live the pura vida, I have confirmed what I was desperately trying to tell myself in my past seven columns: there is so much more to life than getting drunk. There is so much more to do with your friends than sit around at the same old place and drink cheap beer. There is so much more to experience than the different kinds of alcoholic beverages that the bars have to offer.
To be perfectly clear, the message I am trying - and have been trying -- to convey is not don´t drink. What is important is not whether you choose to drink or choose to abstain. Rather, what matters is that you don't let alcohol get in the way of you becoming who you are, that you don't let alcohol handicap you by allowing it to become your only means to fun and excitment, that you don't let alcohol stop you from living the life of your dreams. If you, too, are looking for the pura vida - I can promise you - you will not find it in a bottle.
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May 13, 2008
Lindsay Cole
For many of us, college is one of the first times we're offered the opportunity to do some serious self-observation and assessment; we choose our majors, nourish our interests, and establish ourselves as independent people. Aside from expanding our horizons academically and socially, we are forced to really think about what impact our life choices are going to have on us, and those around us, in the future. I'm sure this process is unique from person to person, but now that I'm approaching graduation, I've realized how important it is to get behind causes that you believe in. Academically, we're given a platform to express our ideas and choose classes that prepare us for the rest of our lives. We're required to think, and problem-solve, and express our ideas. However, many students float through their four-year college careers oblivious to the resources available to them, and the platforms for ideas and expression those resources provide.
I got lucky. I took a chance by submitting an essay to the 2006-2007 AlcoholEdu Media Competition and I was chosen as a runner-up. I submitted an essay to the contest because as an English major, it's important for me to practice writing outside of academia, and because I had an opinion about some of the impressions I'd gotten watching the way students let alcohol negatively effect their behavior and lifestyle. The prize money I received was an added bonus; that was my first time being paid for my writing. Taking that chance has afforded me opportunity after opportunity. I've participated in meetings and a conference that were educational and inspiring for me. AlcoholEdu (Outside the Classroom) has provided me with a platform to express my ideas and observations in monthly blogs. Through AlterEdu, I can connect with students from across the country in an online community of people also taking advantage of that resource's platform. AlterEdu allows students to connect with other students that are looking to enjoy college life without becoming a statistic. It's for students that want to live an alternate lifestyle to the one that treats college as a four-year binge fest.
One of the greatest outcomes of my connection with Outside the Classroom is my newly formed connection with UCLA's Student Health Department and the Drug-Free Schools Committee. Now I'm connected with a resource at my own school that is willing to provide me a platform to present my ideas and suggestions to a committee that serves a great cause. I feel like I'm contributing to a movement away from the misconception that college life should be like a scene out of Animal House. I think many students are getting tired of being perceived so unflatteringly. More and more schools are responding to students' needs for forums to discuss these issues, people to relate to and information on getting help.
Forget Animal House, college and university administrators need to adopt an idea out of scenes from Field of Dreams, and trust that if they build the networks, the students will come and engage. Taking advantage of Outside the Classroom's AlcoholEdu program is a great tool to get the ball rolling, but implementing it and dropping the subject is hardly going to keep it's principals in the forefront of the average students' mind, given that the average student is up against stresses and pressures that many use to alcohol to escape from.
At the Drug-Free Schools Committee meeting, I learned that the athletics department held an experimental mandatory assembly where a guest speaker whose life was tragically affected by driving drunk told his story. They had five hundred students gathered in a hall, and many students said they'd never have imagined that five hundred people could be so mesmerized that they were stunned into silence.
The Student Health Department plans to take out a full-page ad in my school's paper printing my AlcoholEdu Competition submission to get the word out about AlcoholEdu and AlterEdu. I'm proud to be a part of what needs to be an ongoing dialog about alcohol use and abuse between students, administrators and professors. I believe many students would engage in this dialog if they were made better aware of its existence.
Many schools have student-run organizations that address the alcohol issue by scattering posters on campus that convey statistical facts about alcohol, or statistical support for the percentages of students abstaining from alcohol or participating in alternate spring breaks.
UCLA recently implemented a text message alert system that notifies students on their cell phones in the event of an emergency. This may be a lofty goal, but I believe a similar system could reach students with messages that inform students about the resources available to them regarding alcohol and mental health issues. Many students scan their e-mails and automatically delete a lot of informational e-mails; lots of students flag these form letters as junk mail. Text messaging is the new e-mail, and could be used as a means to reach students with a gentle reminder. I realize this idea poses complications, but the idea is brainstorm, and the answers will require some trial and error.
If students reading this are wondering why their school doesn't have resources or people to talk to about these issues, why not take the initiative and approach administrators about it? I'd be willing to bet the resources and people you seek are closer than you think.
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May 6, 2008
Allison Brummet
This month has been hectic. That's the only word to describe it. My car brakes have failed, my aunt is sick and is going to have a tumor removed from her brain soon, and class has completely drained me. Even now I find it hard to focus on my computer screen and not think about how the cool comforter and pillows on my bed would soothe my aching body.
Almost all of my friends are out of school now. I'm jealous. Severely jealous. The sun is out and the perfume of the flowers outside my window lifts my mood with each waft of the warm breeze. I desperately want to be home and away from here. Class yesterday was a nightmare; I couldn't do anything right. I just wanted to yank my hair out, scream or do something to relieve the pressure.
When I came back to my room yesterday after class, I was so glad that the week was over. I wanted nothing more than to relax. But after awhile, I couldn't stand to be in my room any longer. So I went to hang out with some friends, naturally. While we were chatting away, we started talking about drinking on the job. I suppose drinking and cooking isn't as severe as say, being a surgeon and drinking on the job, but drinking while working in any profession is still shocking to me. To be honest, I don't know how people get away with it. I even heard a story once about students who drank in the storage room during one of their kitchen classes. I would imagine working in the kitchen would make it easier to sneak a drink or two while the chef isn't watching. I suppose having little to no desire to drink makes me unable to empathize with those who do drink on the job, but I still firmly believe it's wrong.
Between giggles and bites of chips and sips of soda, we started talking about our friend's 21st birthday celebration. She went out with friends and boyfriend who were old enough to drink to a local bar. She drank so much that she started cussing and yelling at her boyfriend. Consequently, he broke up with her. I mean, seriously, does anything good ever come from drinking?
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