Sips.

Another night, another glass of vino.  It’s a fairly new habit I’m trying to keep up with.  For the record, it’s not due to the possible health benefits that have been associated with drinking a glass of wine every night.  Rather, it’s a simple and easy reminder to consistently flirt with vulnerability.  If that sounds scary to you, you’re right.  If it doesn’t, then you’re lying to yourself.

It’s scary as shit, but that makes it a good thing.

Sips.

Throughout our lives we’ve been protected with careful rules and recommendations designed to keep both physical and emotional harm at bay.

Look both ways before you cross the street.
Be sure to visit your doctor often.
Don’t put foreign objects or substances in your mouth.
Don’t like Instagram photos more than four weeks ago.
Don’t do drugs… but didn’t Steve Jobs create Apple Computers from one or several trips to LSD? I’m just sayin’.

Meth. Definitely don’t do meth. Or heroin.

Sips.

Many of these rules are in place to control and prevent chaos, and I’m not oblivious to the fact that these are required to be in place to reach and maintain a good quality of life.  I’m also not insinuating that you go completely rogue on society and start sprinting through red lights while sucking on Tide pods as you continue to light up hearts on photos from that girl’s (or guy’s) posts from March of 2017.

I merely want to emphasize balance – when playing it too safe you’ll feel unfulfilled, and if you are vulnerable for too long you’ll probably die from eating the detergent.

Sips.

And as I get closer to meeting the bottom of this glass of vino, I can tell you this – I feel a healthy sliver of imbalance and drowsiness, increasing the frequency of typos.  My judgment, however, is very much intact; I just misspelled judgment (initially judgement) but immediately corrected this.  My mathematical prowess also remains flawless.  Check this shit out:

Sips.

To solve 31! you must multiply 31 (x) 29 (x) 28 (x) 27 (x) 26 (x) 25 (x) 24 (x) 23 (x) 22 (x) 21 (x) 20 (x) 19 (x) 18 (x) 17 (x) 16 (x) 15 (x) 14 (x) 13 (x) 12 (x) 11 (x) 10 (x) 9 (x) 8 (x) 7 (x) 6 (x) 5 (x) 4 (x) 3 (x) 2 (x) 1, which is 8,222,838,654,177,922,817,725,562,880,000,000.

Sips.  Damn I’m good.

My mental foundation is drilled into a bedrock of euphoria.  There’s a warm blanket of elation draped over my body and mind, making me impervious to bad thoughts and feelings.

Most of all, I’m poised and willing to fail.  Matter of fact, there is not a flying fuck on this planet that I give.  It’s like traveling back in time to assassinate Overthinking so it longer exists in the present.  And that’s where there is true magic in vino – rules that are scary to bend or even break in vulnerable situations no longer seem so scary at all.  Life is good, life is all right, and regardless of the outcomes from scary decisions made within that hour or so of drunken haze – whether you land on your feet or flat on your face –

Sips.

Everything is going to be perfectly okay.

One last reminder – do you know what overthinking is?  It’s a game of chess between a mind reader and a clairvoyant – it’s always one without a winner.

Don’t be stale, mate.

Sips.