CLICK HERE FOR BLOGGER TEMPLATES AND MYSPACE LAYOUTS »

Monday, March 6, 2017

Cigarettes

I'm well on my way to quitting, finally, mostly.  I've had three in the past month. And because the three have been in the past week, i am quibbling and adding the 'mostly'... I started by having a sickness, a fevered inability to walk outdoors or imagine drawing a deep breath that wasn't for sleep... and it just rolled from there.  The kids have noticed, I have noticed.

I think about it a lot and the three that I've had in the past week have been wonderful, unfortunately.  I know that, if you haven't smoked at any point in your life, you just don't understand.  And i'm here to take a stab at helping you with that. (Because? Man, get out of here with your practicality. Get the hell out.)

Its possible you scorn the smokers, that you make that face when you smell that smell, that you feel a righteous indignation when you see the mom on the front stoop smoking while the littles play... but man... man...

My friends and I smoked cigarettes in high school when we could get a pack with the spare change we found on the floor of the car.  If you don't think that taxes have done anything, I am going to put a large glowing arrow on the beginning of my paragraph here... packs are ten to eleven dollars now and  we never could have started if that was the case when i was sixteen...

I smoked with alcohol and in bars when I was in my twenties, and it was cool. Bad girl stuff.... toughening up a suburban middle-class, okay family white girl, I suppose.  But the key point in that sentence was the DESIRE to be toughened up... because here it is... when i step out of the kitchen, the house and sit down and have a cigarette, I feel like a badass, I feel separate and distinct from the work of the home, the work of the mother, I feel my spirit RISE and get ready to do battle... and its surprising and not surprising how all the work of the home can really deaden that feeling of RISE.

Its like a sparkle light... (if you can manage to take Cancer out of it, and really, who the hell can?! I mean, come on ... this shit will actually KILL you.)...a tiny ember of The Who i used to be when i really was a badass.


But its on its way out of my life, like so many things this year.. and I don't quite know what to do to get in touch with my badass... i suppose i could start drinking whiskey but really I've had enough of that for awhile...
What do you do to feel your strength? Your badass?



1 comments:

Cynthia C. said...

"when i step out of the kitchen, the house and sit down and have a cigarette, I feel like a badass, I feel separate and distinct from the work of the home, the work of the mother, I feel my spirit RISE and get ready to do battle... and its surprising and not surprising how all the work of the home can really deaden that feeling of RISE."

wow. That is powerful knowing and the words you gave to it even more so.

What do I do to feel my strength? my badass?

hmmmm ... I feel badass when I can look back at see how I can get shit done. For example, I recently posted that photo on instagram of my 2013 journal and wrote ALL that was going on during that season ( and ALL that was going on and yet that teacher, the leader of that program told me that I run when things get hard ... Whatfuckingever.) ... and after reading all of that, I feel strong. I remember who I am and what I can do.

In the moment, I don't ever feel badass ... I just do what needs to be done ... even in my creative work. I show up. I think its shit. then later, I go back and realize its good work.

I used to smoke. over thirty two years ago. I don't remember what I felt like then. I remember one incident. My mother was a shy person and couldn't deal with many things in life, especially hospitals. When I was nineteen, my grandparents took a fall. They were taking their evening walk and the manhole cover that my Papa stepped on broke and he fell down into the hole and since they were holding hands, my grandmother fell too. I am the one who had to call the ambulance, answer their questions, get them settled in at the hospital.

Once all that was done and we were in the waiting room, I asked my brother for a cigarette. ( because you smoked everywhere then) ... and my mother was furious. I didn't say anything but I remember thinking, "Woman. I just did all the things at barely nineteen that you should have been doing. Cut me some slack. I'm having a smoke" LOL.

Anyway ... I love you and your words.