Self Defeat

Lately I’ve been drinking more. Not considerable amounts, nor enough that I’ve gotten drunk, but something like a couple of glasses of wine or a highball full of Bushmills (I’d be drinking Glen Morangie if I wasn’t on a budget). It helps me relax; it gets me into a more creative mood. For example I was writing debate notes this morning. I had maybe half a bottle of wine. The notes are done by any means, but they’re easier to write and of better quality when I’ve had something to drink. I’m not entirely sure if this is a psychological or a physiological effect. I’d like to think the latter, but it’s probably a mix of both.

Anyhow, the only problem with drinking is that it also makes me think. The neurons seem to fire faster in my head. I can make connections easier, and go through topics much quicker. Normally this would be a good thing but it also makes me think about a number of different random things. For example, for no particular reason, I diverged from thinking about eminent domain today (the topic of the notes I was writing) and got to thinking about Renell and Ryen again. At the moment I’m stuck thinking angry thoughts, wishing I had enough spine to have been the one to cut it off earlier. I like to image that it would have hurt less. Oh well, I suppose. It’s just one of many an opportunity lost in the name of trust and love.
The crazy thing about the drinking is that it feels like coming home. That might seem strange, but it’s like returning to a place I know. It’s not necessarily just a comfort thing, but I know that’s part of it. It just feels normal. I feel better with a slight buzz running, than without. I feel more capable, more productive, more constructive. And yet, I know it’s not something I should be doing. I guess without any external motivation for self control, I turn to self defeat