I get by with a little help from my friends

Last year, one of my favorite posts for Blog Like Crazy was about the power of female friendship. Though the majority of 2013 has been better than 2012, it's been friends of both genders who have made sure I stayed as sane as possible. They have shown me what love can add to even the fullest life and have embraced me and all my flaws.

The people I call friends have been amazingly supportive during my transition out of 9-to-5s that I hated. They were encouraging and loving, but if I was miserable and wouldn't admit it, they were more than willing to give me the kick in the ass that I desperately needed. It's been this strength and high set of standards that's lead me to demand more for myself and my life.

Bartending is a largely male-dominated field, and here in the South that can mean that women in the industry are held to a different standard. It's not easy, but it's satisfying and surprisingly intellectual work that adds layers and layers of complexity to what would appear to be a straightforward basic skill set. At Octane, I was the first woman to successfully complete the barbacking process at Octane, and am one of only a handful of female craft bartenders in the city.

My female friends especially have been my biggest cheerleaders in starting to bartend, so it's been amazingly refreshing to be able to pass along that support. Jack Wyrick, one of my incredibly talented photog/blogging/creative/handy friends (if you don't know her work, check out this and this), started at Octane this past Saturday. Seeing her focused on learning and joking around with people made me proud and excited for the future of the food industry and, more importantly, my friends here in Birmingham.

Y'all, it's important to earn money, but it's just as important to make a life instead of a living. My friends have pushed me even when it wasn't comfortable financially or psychologically to work towards what would make me happy, not what would provide benefits or a set 401K. Their support in hard times has gotten me through any and all obstacles in my way. They enrich my life with their stories and their advice, and I can't really and truly can't thank them enough.

Happy birthday, See Clair Write!

It's fitting that my blog's birthday falls on the day where the Blog Like Crazy prompt is to talk about your beliefs. See Clair Write has become an outgrowth of those, and I love working to show them plainly.

For me, trust and belief go hand in hand. These internal markers are an excellent way to flesh out the relationships and conversations I have with others. As I've said before, I'm a compulsive list maker. Things as personal as beliefs are no different. Here are some random ones of mine:

• Cocktails are cultural artifacts. Whether through their origins, backstories or associations, cocktails are a great way to connect with the bright -- and sordid -- moments in our collective history. In a contemporary setting, asking a bartender about a drink's name can spark hours of discussion about their history (or the bar's).
• I'm a nerd. A huge, flaming, Doctor Who and Sherlock watching, China Mieville reading, football enjoying, drink mixing, cosplaying, music snobby nerd. I can talk for hours about all of these things. However, I'm also nerdy because I keep friends with a lot of people who are outside these fandoms because they have something to teach me and vice versa. It's part of why I fell in love with Adam.
• When I stop learning, I will die. Overdramatic statement? Maybe, but it's pretty much the truth. Anytime I stop reading or research or writing for more than a day, I feel much less alive. I hadn't realized how much I missed reading fiction until I read my friend Cecilia Dominic's book The Mountain Shadow in two days.
• I judge our friendship through hugs. I love hugs. They're a good barometer of how trusting and trustworthy an individual is. Though I understand that there's a boundary of not forcing too much physical contact on someone, a bear hug will almost always go a longer ways than a side-hug-slash-pat-on-the-back.
• Respect, respect, respect. Chances are that we don't see eye to eye on everything and are unlikely to change each others' minds on topics such as religion, politics, sex, etc. Judgment isn't going to win over my heart and mind. If we can't discuss them civilly or intellectually, we won't discuss them at all.
• Conversation is hugely important. Since the filter between my brain and mouth resembles a sieve, we're probably going to end up talking about religion, politics, sex, etc. I'm always fascinated by others' backgrounds and opinions...until they degenerate into proselytization or judgment. If it gets to that point, I'm out.

Five November Blogging Resolutions

This month, I'm going to Blog Like Crazy through Birmingham's See Jane Write blogging group. Our fearless leader Javacia has once again challenged us to blog daily for the entire month of November. Last year, after reading ten or eleven days' worth of amazing posts, I was itching to write my own, and this blog was born. In honor of the month's beginning, here are my five blogging resolutions:

1. Hustle. This month, I will actively work to grow my freelance writing clientele base. I will target new clients more intelligently and efficiently, even after a few rounds of unanswered queries. I will pitch more and write more as I prepare for the future.
2. Use my time wisely. I'm a master of lists, but I'm also easily distracted. Scheduling my writing, running and reading will create accountability and explicitly lay out my work time and free time.
3. Take time for self-care. It may not be a session with a professional masseuse or personal trainer, but exercising and being still now receive designated spots in my calendar. With bartending, tutoring and writing stretching me thin, it's absolutely imperative that I make time to unplug.
4. Loosen up. Last week, it was brought to my attention that I'm pretty serious which can translate into people thinking I'm unapproachable. As a bartender, that's not acceptable. I'm hoping to loosen up by lessening my stress levels through items 3 and 4. If not, I'll find another way.
5. Show more love. I have the most amazing support system -- to whom I rarely reach out. This month, I'm going to contact some of those people to let them know how much they mean to me. I've already tried to start doing so with Adam, and want to actively continue that trend through this month.

Blame Maldon Sea Salt

If I ever develop heart disease, blame Maldon Sea Salt. Blame it for my licked clean fingers

After each pinch drops into

The pan of symmetric vegetable slices.

Blame the flake shared from a fingertip

For lighting a slow-burning love

Of cooking and a freckly back.

Blame its pyramids for writing a fresh rhythm

That stirred two bodies to dance

Between a spitting pan and sticky ball of naan.

Blame Maldon Sea Salt for a full heart.

Where do we come from? What are we? Where are we going?

Yesterday I wrote mainly about what music has inspired me to consider. Today this blog gets the same type of consideration.

Write, Clair. Write! is not just a journal of my personal thoughts and experiences. It is the record of a passionately curious woman exploring social media's connectivity and her city. It is a place where being young, discovering new things and committing to live like a feminist should is accepted.

Write, Clair. Write! is a love note to the diverse and exceptional communities I call home and the men and women who make my life possible. Writing here is an outlet and a meditation on the subjects at hand. Words are the most powerful salves or weapons individuals can use, and I will use mine to do good.

Write, Clair. Write! is a journey of understanding about the world and people who surround me and the things that make them beautiful. We're all flawed, but true beauty is forged and strengthened through situations that build scar tissue. It is about exploring the depths of my beliefs and figuring out where I want to be in a few years. It is part of what I do for fun.

Title blatantly stolen from Gauguin's painting (pictured).

Man, I feel like a woman

Last July, one of my friends linked to this article from The Rumpus about the power of female friendship. After reading it, I sent it to those in my circle who might not have seen it otherwise. Then I sat quietly at my desk with a few tears sneaking out while I stared at a point somewhere behind my monitor. My mind kept circling back to Emily Rapp's description of her realization "how much people diminish and poo-poo the real power and strength of female friendship, especially between women, which is either supposed to descend into some kind of male lesbian love scene porn fantasy or be dismissed as meaningless or be re-written as a story of competition. Here’s the truth: friendships between women are often the deepest and most profound love stories, but they are often discussed as if they are ancillary, “bonus” relationships to the truly important ones."

Even now, this excerpt stops me cold. Growing up, my mom's best friend was like a second mother to me. She taught me how to knit when I was four while her sons were watching "Babes In Toyland" (it's creepy). For the first few years after we moved to Alabama, her house still felt more like home than ours. It was only after reading that article that I truly began to appreciate the scope and scale of the love in their relationship and that which was present in my own life.

A few years ago, I sat with a friend and knitted as she stared into the rosemary bushes in front of her porch. We didn't talk because we didn't need to. As another friend says, "That's what friends do. They sit."

They sit through heart breaks, painful anniversaries, new beginnings, medical diagnoses, grief and anger. They have a beer waiting and introduce you to Cake Wrecks and Hyperbole And A Half on weeks when you invite yourself over because you're about to explode. They laugh and cry with you and call you when they need support. They're family.

Being a woman (or a compassionate human being of any gender) in this society is not easy, but it can be beautiful. Today, women take advantage of opportunities their mothers and grandmothers fought for, even though they have to fight to keep the position once they're there.

We still have a long way to go as a culture. I am amazed that reporters will still seriously ask a female politician about her clothing or a mother about her daughter's fashion sensabilities. It frightens me sometimes that men have so much control over the political process -- with the number of issues that specifically affect women, it just doesn't seem right. I can say, though, that I look forward to seeing and contributing to moving the conversation forward.

Love me like a rock

According to Merriam-Webster, the term "nuclear family" was coined first in 1947. Because of its Cold War origins, the phrase has several layers of meaning. In an atom, the nucleus is tightly packed and contains only two types of particles, which might be considered analogous to the expected male and female roles within the family.

In a solid, the atoms are rigidly structured, much like suburbia in the 1940s (and today). However, outside of the nucleus, the electrons are most likely moving in a certain area most of the time. Young, newly formed families were moving far away from their kin, much like the particle movement in an atom.

The other layer is the explosive potential demonstrated by the atomic bomb only two years before the term was coined. Here, energy is generated by a particle hitting the nucleus of an atom, which induces a change in the nucleus. More on that here. During the 1960s and 70s, social movements started challenging this newly minted convention.

Returning Vietnam veterans and war protesters deepened the generational divide, women's rights became a visible issue and the Cold War dragged on. All of these factors were like particles rushing towards a nucleus to bust it open. With all these changes, typical family structures became, well, not so typical. Thus, the post-modern family was born.

Nowadays, some believe that non-nuclear families provide unsuitable environments for childhood development. I find this generalization simplistic. It assumes both that the entire concept of home is rooted in the Rockwellian vision of the nuclear family and that the households that don't fit into this vision do not -- could not -- provide the same things. Granted, there are some parents who cannot, either by choice or circumstance, but many of my beautiful friends grew up in single parent households or are raising children as single parents. They work harder and sleep less than any other group of individuals I know, and they do it all for their kids.

There's also another component to family that hasn't even been mentioned. To quote Eustache Deschamp, "friends are the relatives you make for yourself." Both my blood relatives and friends are beautiful, messy and imperfect and have taught me that love and home come in different shapes and forms. They have supported me while I learned the difference between love that inspires growth and love that burns away the edges of what you love about yourself. They have comforted me and helped me build back the singed parts with a stronger foundation. Love is everything.

Today's title comes from Paul Simon's "Love Me Like A Rock." When my family went on car trips, my dad would spend hours beforehand making mix tapes for different parts of the drive. Because all of us knew all of the lyrics to most of Paul Simon's songs, either a song or an album usually cycled through the mix during the trip.

Full disclosure: the first part of this post was adapted from an essay on the role of "Sesame Street" as a (seriously) post-modern family structure.

Should I trust this dialect to convey the right effect?

When I was young, I didn't have athletes as heroes, I had writers and journalists and scientists and explorers. NPR figures into some of my earliest memories, and I've grown into an NPR addict. Journalism was presented as the last bastion of impartiality--minus the 24-hour news cycle. That's why I, like my friend and sometimes editor Carla Jean Whitley, keep politics and religion out of my writing. It is not my business to define others' beliefs.

Through my writing, I can leave a record of the people and stories in my life. To my loved ones, I promise not to post too many embarrassing stories. I would like to leave a legacy of love, not embarrassment.

Through my writing, I hope to teach love and patience in dealing with difficult situations. I have learned from the best, and I will not covet that knowledge. If one person slows to consider their actions, I have left a legacy I can be proud of.

Title from Hellogoodbye's "Dear Jamie, Sincerely Me."

Another successful interaction with a man!

As a disclaimer, it takes a lot to keep my attention and I suck at flirting, so falling in love is a long process for me. Several friends have banned me from wingman duty after I got bored, started checking my phone and wandered off while on call. Follow these nine easy steps and you just might fall in love. It worked for me.

1. Meet new people. Whether it's through volunteering at a local film festival or through trivia, diversifying your friend group can lead to increased happiness on its own.

2. Take a chance. Did a cute guy just sit down across from you? Start the conversation. Is he interesting? Stay for a bit.

3. Judge their interest level. Is he smiling? Are there Lisa Frank stickers available? If so, aim for the forehead. Is he still smiling? Congratulations! You have just had another successful interaction with a man.

4. Connect on social media. Does he like Nickelback? If so, ignore. If not, proceed. Mention cephalopods, NPR and mixology.

5. Hang out with a group. Commandeer the hammock. Ignore everyone to discuss the Superman black bag issue and comics-based movie franchises.

6. Hang out one on one. Take over a six pack of stout. Watch R. Kelly's "Trapped In The Closet." Stay up til 4 talking. Sleep. Eat breakfast. Watch football. Repeat.

7. Plan a trip abroad. After a few months, you're going to need a little space to cement your thoughts. When you're dropped off at 5 AM, realize you don't want to travel alone for three weeks. Bawl. Repeat when you get out of cell range and again when you find that your Internet won't support Skype or FaceTime.

8. Come back. More importantly, share what you learned. Smile more. Flirt more. Sometimes it takes half a world's distance to realize the value the person next to you holds.

9. Be kind. Slip that tiny bar of bacon chocolate into his bag. Expect excited text messages two days later when he finds it.

Title taken from a recurring phrase on "30 Rock."

Love in the time of Facebook

Without exercise and a creative outlet, even the tiniest annoyances inspire a nuclear-level reaction in my brain. I start clenching my teeth, my core temperature spikes and my posture goes to crap as I start taking pot shots at the people around me. After almost a year dating Adam, I’ve had to start consciously moderating my behavior.

Adam and I met in person at a mutual friend’s birthday party. Our initial courtship began with a Facebook message thread about cephalopods, special effects, books, music and food. That was how I gave him my number. Since then, our relationship has continued through messages and posts on Facebook, by text messages, phone calls and in person.

These days, my crazy moments happen when I neglect my emotional health. When the thankful posts on Facebook and Twitter started, I realized that I had not been at all mindful of how my emotional state affected Adam. Thus began my exercise—every day I tell him at least one reason I love him. Redirecting my focus often makes me smile and helps keep my emotions more level.

Coupled with an increased focus on regular exercise, deliberately practicing love has helped me to treat him as a friend as well as a partner. After seeing my progress in this area, I want to try this exercise with other areas of my life. I hope that continuing this practice will allow me to focus more on what I love about my city and my friends and even to share it with others.