The Blame Game

Great…. Chantix, Quit-Smoking Drug, Poses Heart Risks (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/06/16/stop-smoking-drug-chantix-heart_n_878341.html )

So what right?  Except that I am currently on Chantix.  It’s the only thing I have ever tried that has actually worked for me.  And, it’s my second time taking it.

If you have ever tried to quit smoking, even once, you may have learned that it is easier said than done. Being different from doing anything else in life, smoking is something that is easy to start and hard to stop. That is the common characteristics of all addictions. It is undeniable that smoking is an addiction, and breaking off from an addiction is really hard.

OK, I take that back, quitting is actually very easy. I can stop for one day or two, which is not hard at all.  I succeeded in quitting for weeks once.  When I was pregnant with my daughter, I quit for eleven months.  The hard part is to not turn back. Only when you can do that can you say that you have quit smoking for good.  I have been smoking for twenty-eight years.  It’s way past the time to quit for good.

I try hard to be the most polite smoker in the world. I would never smoke in someone else’s home, or car, or in a non-smoking designated area.  I won’t smoke around children; I won’t even smoke in my own house (the one I pay the mortgage on).

Now I could run through the list of why I started to smoke, why each time I gave it up I picked it up again and so on and so forth but it’s really irrelevant isn’t it?  The bottom line is I did and this time I’m determined, more so than those other times, to put them down for good.

So I chose Chantix because when you first start it, you can continue to smoke – which absolutely appeals to a smoker of 28 years.  As the days go on and the dosage increases however, the desire to smoke starts to lessen considerably.  Around day ten or eleven, the cigarettes begin to taste really bad – doesn’t matter what brand (I tried buying others last time I did this), they start to taste like maybe a stick you’d pick up out of the yard.  Add a few more days, add a little dog shit or bear shit to that stick. Yuck.  The desire to smoke dog or bear shit?  Zero.

Now some of my readers know I am on vacation right now.  You’re probably wondering why I would choose to do this on vacation.  Well, Chantix also can give you insomnia and it definitely gives you very, VERY vivid and strange dreams.  I’ve never taken LSD or any other form of hallucinogenic but I’d have to guess that some of the dreams I’ve been having this past week would rival any ‘trip’ I’ve ever heard about.   So to me, it made perfect sense to do this while on vacation.  If I’m up half the night and tired during the day, I have no agenda, nowhere I need to be, nothing I have to do.  Hello nap.  There have been a lot of naps this vacation.  And there have been a lot less cigarettes this vacation.

When I do reach the end and when I DO quit for good (that’s assuming I don’t have a heart attack first according to the article), I vow not to be one of those reformed smokers that pounces all over every smoker I come in contact with – that’s assuming you are the polite smoker that I am of course.  Smokers are bullied.  They are bullied socially, medically and legislatively.  Here’s an example of the blame game I refer to in my title:

When a smoker gets cancer, people shrug and say “what did you expect?”  Just like when overweight people get diabetes they say the same thing.   It’s the Blame Game.  Blame the sick for causing the disease.  People behave as if smokers deserve cancer. Overweight people deserve diabetes. 

I am not denying that smoking is a cause of cancer. That does not mean smokers deserve cancer.  I am not denying that obesity is a cause of Type 2 diabetes. That does not mean overweight people deserve diabetes.  Do you see what I’m saying, what I’m getting at?  And here’s a newsflash – I have diabetes and I am not over weight – not by any stretch of the imagination.  I’m in the dead center in the weight category for my height and age, just ask my doctor.  

We all have shortcomings, we all have areas of our lives that need improvement, we all have some ‘vice’ or addiction – some are just not as easy to kick or control.  I’m trying to quit smoking.  Maybe you’re trying to get more exercise or maybe you’re trying to keep your home tidier, do more laundry more often.  Maybe you’re trying to conquer a fear of heights or spiders.  We are all just about always ‘trying’ to do something aren’t we?  Maybe you too are trying to quit smoking?

Take heart my friend if you are, I know what you’re up against.  

Oh, and if I try to bum a cigarette off you, don’t blame me for wanting it and asking, just kindly tell me no.

The Beach

With all the snow this past winter in New England, I sometimes felt as if summer and my beach time would never arrive… but it finally has.  I am sitting here in Pompano Beach, Florida in what has to be one of the hottest June’s in recent years, toes in the sand, drink at my side and trusty laptop on my lap.

I have been here completely alone for three days and a wonderful three days it has been; Very good for clearing the mind, re-energizing the spirit and personal reflection.  Yesterday, I sat in the warm Atlantic Ocean, just floating until my body grew completely limp with relaxation; until my mind grew silent with inactivity.  Yesterday, I rented a beach chair and umbrella and basked in the sun.  Now however, I have taken my beach blanket, shook out the wrinkles and have laid it on the sand.  I plan to sit here for a long time.  I want to watch the sky turn from light blue to pale yellow and pink and then orange.  I want to watch the day fade to evening and watch the moon crest over the ocean.

The ocean.  The ocean churns restlessly, white foam on the shore. The air is crisp and warm, the wind light and caressing.  I sink my feet into the still warm sand and look out to endless ocean. 

I settle deeper into the sand.  

Eyes open then closing again so I can use my other senses to inhale the scent of coconut and aloe from the sunscreens and lotions used throughout the day; hear the surf as it laps the shore; taste the salt on my lips from the ocean spray, feel the sand growing cool as the day slips away.

There is no one I need to be, no one that places demands on me or wants me to be any way, anyone or anywhere.  

Scanning the shore I see many sea shells that have been washed up.  Earlier this week I went snorkeling for them and found several that I found beautiful and gave them to my friend to take home to her grandson (who incidentally asked she bring him home a shell from the beach).  What a wonderful conversation we had about our God and our purpose while she was here.   There are not many people I could have a conversation about God with and feel comfortable having such conversation…

Do you ever wish you (when I say you, I mean me) could grow a sea shell around you to protect you from the elements and from everything and everyone out there looking to devour you?  That is the thought that currently comes to mind after several thoughtful and thoughtless conversations today.

But if we/I did grow a shell, it would likely be like the ones I went snorkeling for and found.  Whole.  Intact.  Unique.  Not necessarily pretty, but not broken like most of the ones I see before me along the shore now.  These shells are useless at protection because they are missing most of their structure.  They are still beautiful in their own way…

I wonder… if we did have the ability to grow outer shells, would that be good or bad?  Have we not ourselves, been created to be in fellowship with one another?  Does the kind of sea creature that lived in the shells I collected earlier this week not need fellowship, friendship, relationships?  I wonder if the kind of sea creature that lived in some of these shells didn't need fellowship and even though we sometimes think we don't need fellowship either, we do.   I’m just sayin' that while I was alone on the beach, feeling content in the solitude, I was wholly aware of the need for humans to be in healthy relationships and wholly grateful to God for His design.  There were and are times that, if I could, I would have donned a shell.

The waves crash again and again. The sun is gone for the day. I wait now in quiet for that first star to appear and then another and then too many for me to count. The sky will be full of little lights - billions of little lights. The world is big. So huge and vast and full yet empty; So beautiful, yet ugly; So loud, yet so quiet.  I am nothing but a quiet observer, in a quiet moment, fleeting and forgetful. Here today, gone tomorrow.  It's all pretty insignificant really, yet at the same time, so very significant.

What will I do here today that will still be here tomorrow? And maybe that's part of the problem--all the trying rather than simply being, with the warm sand, the foaming waves, the billions of stars and something I can feel but will never see.

It has been a long, hot day in the sun, and it feels nice to finally let it end.  For now, I am content to simply enjoy my evening here, alone on the beach.

Have a thought?  86 the bullshit and let me have them.  Talk to me...

Father's Day

So it’s Father’s Day… I’ve been absent from my blog here for over a month – so much for all that smoke eh?  I’m sure I’ll get back to it, after all, it’s still swirling around up there in my cranium somewhere, but as it is for all of us at one time or another, ‘life’ and responsibilities get in the way of what we’d really like to be doing (or in my case, writing).  Shit happens and life gets in the way.  But I digress, back to the subject at hand:  Father’s Day.  

I wonder if anyone else finds it as strange as I do that this day does not have the “emotional charge” if you will, that Mother’s Day has.  To me, it’s an almost casual day – an ‘I-almost-forgot’ day when good ‘ol dad gets a goofy card or another necktie.  There doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of emotional intensity (positive or negative) that plays out.  It just “is what it is”.  

For those of us who grew up with and knew our fathers it may be a little different; a slightly more ‘I-appreciate-you-and-all-that-you-did-for-me’, ‘thanks-for-being-there-and-supporting-me’, if not an ‘i-love-you-dad’ kind of day.  To those fathers, father-figures and step-fathers; the ones who read to, help with homework, toss a ball around, check for monsters under the bed, make you eat your vegetables, “Of course I’ll be at your ball game/dance recital”, “I’m so proud of you!” types - a resounding “Happy Father’s Day!”  

For those of us who did not grow up with their father or a father figure (I fall into this category), the day marks a sometimes painful reminder that my father had no attachment to me.  No sense of personal responsibility, emotional care or concern.  For some, perhaps our fathers were taken from us by an untimely death.  Either way, we grew up without them.

Sadly, having a physically or emotionally absent father has become somewhat common in our society.  Having established a somewhat recent relationship with my biological father, I realize he probably, for lack of a better phrase, ‘loved me in his own way’ but again, from a distance and without contact.  

With these thoughts in mind, I decided to pick up President Obama’s book Dreams of my Father.  Now whether you support President Obama or not, whether you agree or disagree with his politics/policies, health care reform etc., you must agree that here is a person who grew up without his father and quite obviously made something of himself and his life - and he did it without Dear Old Dad.

Yesterday, President Obama said during his weekly internet address when asked about Father’s Day, “I felt his absence, and I wonder what my life would have been like had he been a greater presence.”  Well, that just about sums it up now doesn’t it?  I couldn’t have said it better myself even though I have spent most of my life wondering the same damn thing.

President Obama writes in his book that “..Every man is trying to live up to his father’s expectation or make up for his father’s mistakes.”  He goes on to say that “…I suppose that may explain my particular malady as well as anything else.”  I highlighted these two phrases in the book.  Why?  Because although he didn’t have many ‘real’ interactions with his father to build from; these statements, in my opinion, are about his own quest and his own self-reflection.  

Speaking of self-reflection, which side of the equation do I fall on?  Quite obviously, I am living to make up for his (my father’s) mistakes.  Have I done a good job?  It all depends on how you look at it and the only opinion which matters to me is that of my daughter.  

Will she call me today to wish me a ‘Happy Father’s Day’?  Heck no – she also re-established a relationship with her (often absent) father some time back and I’m certain he will be the one getting the telephone call, not me.  As such, I will be calling my biological father, if not to say “Happy Father’s Day, Dad” to say hello, how are you, I was thinking of you today…

86 The Bullshit and tell me your thoughts on Father’s Day as I’ve told you mine… talk to me…

Appearance - Does Fashion Matter?

Fashion is one of those things that people can claim they don't care about. They can defend again and again that it doesn't matter what one wears, it's the person who wears it; That we shouldn’t “judge a book by it’s cover” and so on. But in all likelihood we will continue to judge and be judged, for the clothes on our bodies, as well as the shoes on our feet, the hairstyle we are sporting, number (if any) of tattoos and piercings and all the other preconceived notions of ‘normal’, ‘acceptable’ appearance.

I write about this topic after watching several recent segments on this topic on various news morning shows lately and because I myself judged someone on their appearance just last weekend.  I took one look at this guy when he walked in the door and thought to myself: “Well, here comes trouble.”  

Why are we a society that is most often drawn to the most popular, "cool" and "beautiful" people? Why do we describe ourselves first by our appearances and our personalities and abilities second?  Are looks and the way we dress really that important?  I dare say it is. 

Back to my own shortcomings:  Realizing that I was judging this man by his look, I took the time to speak with this person (and seeing as how he sat down at the same table as I was, it helped).  As it turned out, this gentleman and gentle man, was anything but what my first impression implied he was.

Picture this:  I’m sitting in a pub, the band is playing, we’re having our second drink (which means by now it’s after 10pm - I might be getting 'older myself here but who goes out and arrives at almost 10:30?!).  The door opens and in he walks, all 6’2”, maybe 6’3” of him.  He is older, I’d guess based on appearance, to be in his mid to late 60’s.  His gray hair is longer than mine and my hair hits the back of my bra strap just to give you an idea of the length.  If you look carefully, you can see the traces of  brown that his locks surely were at one time.  His gray mustache and beard are in serious need of a trim as are his eyebrows.  He is dressed head to toe in black.  Black boots, black jeans, black tee and black jacket.  Top that all off with a black, banded with silver studs cowboy hat.  He strides across the floor in what appears to be a very confident walk.  Damn if I wasn’t completely taken a back.  He sits down at my table.

Who was this guy?  Turns out, he had one of the softest, kindest pair of eyes I’ve ever seen and was very soft spoken and eloquent with his words.  Gentle and very charming, he also turned out to be very kind.  I was immediately ashamed of myself for judging him based on his “look”.

Here’s the deal folks, we (all) DO judge others based on appearance.  It doesn’t really matter whether you think it’s unfair or you think I’m a cold-hearted bitch for saying so.  (It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been called a bitch and I’m pretty sure it won’t be the last either.)  You can get all riled up about it, your undies all in a bunch and all, but the facts is it won’t affect anything.  Outward appearances – your clothing, your ‘style’, your hair, make-up if you’re female, shoes, all of it – project an image that make us and others, form an opinion about someone without even speaking to each other.

Think about it… you DO judge a book by it’s cover.  Let’s take this literally:  When you (or I) walk into a bookstore, surf Amazon.com or the like, there are thousands of books with hundreds in any given section.  You can’t tell me that you look at each and every book in the section.  No, you, I, we don’t.  It’s the cover and perhaps the title that catches our eye.  You and I look at and read the covers/titles, and maybe browse through a dozen? Half a dozen? Before making your purchase.

The same rules apply to people.  We interact with too many people to actually get to know them all.  What we do is look at the ‘covers’.  We optimize and judge based on appearances, just like we do with books.  I was told by a friend once that her boyfriend took one look at me when we first met and told my friend “I bet she’s expensive”.  Wow.  Really?  Trust me folks, I’m far from "expensive" and I’ve lived most of my life like the rest of ya’ll – paycheck to paycheck barely making ends meet most times. 

We “label” everyone.  How many times have we “assumed” that tall, thin, well-dressed female is either “rich”, “snobby”  and/or unapproachable?  The girl with the low cut blouse or the short skirt?  Well, she’s a “slut” or a “whore” right?  How many times have we come across the dressed-in-black, long haired, scruffy looking man like the one I met last Friday night and assume “trouble”?  How about the guy with the plaid shirt, glasses, the anime or STFU tee and jeans?  We assume "gamer"/"nerd" or "computer/IT geek" right?  The guy with dirt under his nails? “poor” or “blue collar”.

Disagree?  That’s okay, I’m going to tell you who judges you.  Everyone.  Potential employers, co-workers, potential and current mates, friends, waiters/waitresses, flight attendants, the cashier at WalMart, the police officer who pulled you over for speeding, your newspaper delivery person, the customer service representative at Best Buy, your doctor, the nurse, your neighbors, your children, your parents.  Everyone.  

Potential mates are evaluating your appearance even before they know your name.  Employers are judging your appearance the minute you walk in the door.  Waiters/Waitresses are deciding what you are likely to tip based on your clothes, never mind on how you order and interact with them.  Even strangers on the street are judging you as you walk by:  “Geek”, “Suit”, “Goth”, “Rich”, “Poor”, “Gay”, “Poser”,”Emo”, “Slut” to name but a (very) few.  It’s all about what we are all conditioned to think of as ‘attractive’, ‘acceptable’ and ‘normal’.  Anything out of this realm and we are immediately uncomfortable.

Even your friends judge you by your appearance a lot of the time.  Don’t think so?  Wear something completely out of the ordinary of your usual style.  Dress in big baggy clothes, an over-sized Tee, slick your hair back and put on some heavy black eyeliner and see how uncomfortable they become around you.  Still don’t think so? Go dye your hair purple or neon green and see what they say.  They might say it looks good (more likely they’ll tell you that you look like an idiot) but you can bet your bottom dollar they’re going to notice.  You can think, and even say, that you and your friends choose to be friends based on who you/they are and that it’s what’s inside that counts and that’s true – to a certain extent.  However, if you think your friends don’t judge you or that you don’t judge them on appearance as well then I’d say you’re disillusioned. 

Appearance says who you are.  You choose what appearance to present. I’m not saying that other factors don’t matter.  Good friends and your mate will judge you based on much more than your appearance but they are not blind; they will also judge you on your appearance often times as well.  First impressions (ie: “I bet she’s expensive”) IS based on appearance.

All this attention to appearances should not be taken to mean that other factors do not matter.  My point is other factors DO matter and SHOULD matter.  However, first impressions are very much based on appearances so don’t sell yourself short.  86 The Bullshit and tell me your thoughts on appearances and first impressions.  Talk to me...

Smell Smoke? It's just me.. I've been thinking...

Have you been watching the news lately?  I have.  Besides the death of Osama Bin Laden, there has been a lot of coverage recently (and rightly so) about things such as appearance, fitting in and bullying.  Case in point specifically, Pheobe Prince’s tormentors, their plea bargains and her mother’s gut-wrenching speech made in court. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wrAdxS2CZk&feature=player_embedded).  The Today Show ran a segment yesterday on a book written by Alexandra Robbins about teenagers who don’t “fit in” (or I like the word “conform”) in high school.  Show (http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/42885573/ns/today-books/t/whos-cool-after-graduating-high-school/).  I also saw a story this morning on childhood obesity and a controversial Anti-Obesity Ad Campaign to raise awareness on this subject.  (http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/42929825/ns/today-today_health/ ).  The negative and insensitive comments directed towards assault victim Lara Logan (http://abcnews.go.com/GMA/video/controversy-lara-logan-criticism-12950836); and coverage of Boston’s (and Toronto; Seattle; Chicago; Philadelphia; Reno, Nev.; and Austin, Texas) Slut Walk.  (http://boston.cbslocal.com/2011/05/06/slutwalk-saturday-in-boston/)

I’ve been having my own ‘hard time’ lately (log in to read my post To Whom It May Concern: http://eightysixthebullshit.blogspot.com/2011/04/to-whom-it-may-concern.html ) and you’re smelling smoke where you are because I’ve been doing a lot – a LOT of thinking lately.    

It begs the question:  Are we giving up ethics for hype?  Is what really matters these days how many times our Twitter, Facebook and blog accounts are hit instead of treating others with fairness and equality?

With that said, I’ve decided to begin a series of blogs this month dedicated to just that.  Please offer your comments if you have any on any of the upcoming posts this month.  (Remember, you can comment anonymously if you like.)  86 The Bullshit folks – tell me your thoughts, even if you think I’m full of shit, let’s hear from you.  Talk to me…

An hour at the lake

I am so glad to be sitting here at this moment.  I have been blessed with a treasured two days off and arrived here yesterday to spend some time with family.  

Hidden Lake is a therapeutic retreat hidden from the world, as beautiful as it is serene.  To get to the lake, I must cross the field.  The beaten down grass where I walk is hard enough but if I veer off, I notice that the ground is thick and moist.  The smell of the field is fresh and sweet and it relaxes me instantly. The field is not yet blooming with the wildflowers that will soon be everywhere waving its carpet of color like a ripple across the lake.  Many times I have picked the Black Eyed Susans that grow in abundance in the field and woven them together to make flower bracelets and crowns for both myself and the children.

A soft wind caresses my neck as the out-lying woods that surround this place close around me on the walk down the winding road through the field and into the woods as it tunnels to enter the lake.  Mirroring to me, the gates of Heaven, this is by far the closest thing on earth I will find near that sensation.  I am home.

The air is fragrant with pine and grass.  For some un-answerable reason, I feel it is important to turn down my cell phone here to maintain the silence and perfect cohesion with this outdoor temple.  Vegetation is all along the bank of the lake which will produce fruits such as blueberries, blackberries and raspberries later in the spring and into the summer months which can (and will) be picked to bake into goodies such as muffins and The Farm famous blueberry pie.  

Birds are flying making their presence known by beautiful songs; Squirrels are running abroad looking for acorns and such.  I await the return of the hummingbirds which hover consistently over the honeysuckle bushes and zoom in and out of the feeders along the front porch at the house up over the hill that I’ve descended from to get to the lake.  Woodpeckers are knocking out a tune in what feels like stereo surround sound.  A simple toss of some old crusty bread into the lake brings groups of fish giving their salutations to me.

Toward the shore, bullfrogs are croaking a tune as the daylight fades.  Looking above, the clouds are in a cumulus state.  Their formations can still be made into any number of animals, or shapes.  They drift by slowly on the wind like fond memories of days spent here with family and friends.

I come here for a variety of reasons at various times.  Sometimes to spend days and pass time with family and friends; sometimes to delight in watching the new generation of children take their own pleasure from this place.  Today, I am here for myself.  To be alone and dream with my eyes open admiring all that this place is.  I am here to listen to the wind, to breathe and feed myself with hope, forget my worries, troubles and fears, and to pray silently for those who mean the most to me. 

This oasis of comfort does pose a catch. The return to everyday life is waiting along the road on the other side of the field.