Irrewind, 20100904: Smoking

I'm a recovering smoker (and given how far in advance some of these posts are scheduled, I hope I still am by the time anyone reads this). I started smoking sometime in late 1999 and have been actively trying to quit since sometime in 2000. There have been high points (including a 10-month span completely nicotine-free in 2006) and have been low points (pretty much anytime else) in my efforts, and I often found myself whining (or whinging, pending your location) about it here at Irreverent Irrelevance.

Anyway, in light of a friend trying to quit herself (or, at least, claiming to want to), I figured to post some of my observations - both personal and otherwise - concerning the topic.

"One Billion Tobacco Deaths? Big Whoop"
I don't mean that in a bad way, but seriously, one billion people? Over the course of a century? That's not too bad, if you ask me. In fact, it helps out another "problem" that the World Health Organization is worried about: overpopulation. Not only that, these smokers are dying from something that, in all likelihood, THEY WANT TO DO... Read More

"Cigarette Musings"
Strangely, I didn't have another cigarette until two days later, when I returned to my real job and suddenly became very depressed. I know, I know... that's not an excuse, but it's what happened, so shut up. Since then, I've had about 40 cigarettes... not a high number, given the usual number of cigarettes smokers light up in a day, but... Read More

"Off the Wagon... Again"
Of course, I can always use the excuse "but all people on set smoke" (see: "but all soldiers smoke" for my military excuse), but the fact of the matter is I just felt like it. Maybe I just felt like it because I usually hate Atlanta (I loved it this time) and needed some edge off, but it's probably just because I'm a fucking moron... Read More

"A Cigarette When You Don't Want One"
 Smoking's a crutch in so many ways. It's an excuse, an abuse, and a reason to drink more coffee. People trying to quit, like myself, look for anything negative or otherwise not ideal to serve as motivation to light up a smoke. I had a bad day, for instance, which is why there's a pack of fresh Camel Turkish Silvers on my desk. And, yeah, I hate... Read More 

"Marijuana versus Tobacco: A Great Irony"
I fully believe that smoking cigarettes is bad for you. I fully believe that smoking marijuana is bad for you. And I fully believe that both should be legal, regulated as little as possible, and available on the open market to be enjoyed wherever someone (someone being an individual or a business) provides a spot for them to be enjoyed... Read More 

Marijuana versus Tobacco: A Great Irony

I fully believe that smoking cigarettes is bad for you. I fully believe that smoking marijuana is bad for you. And I fully believe that both should be legal, regulated as little as possible, and available on the open market to be enjoyed wherever someone (someone being an individual or a business) provides a spot for them to be enjoyed.

In a reverse of how I usually conduct myself in rants, I'll start with the conclusion: legalize marijuana and back the fuck off from tobacco. I mean, can society possibly be any more contradictory when it comes to these two topics? Given that there's currently a very strong push to legalize marijuana, and another very strong push to put the tobacco companies out of business, why aren't these two "industries" (that's in quotes because, well, marijuana isn't technically a legal industry quite yet) banding together and calling everyone (individuals and government) out on the obvious irony.

Note: I am now in pure rant mode and no longer feel it necessary to make logical transitional sense.

Here's where I'm at. I smoke cigarettes, somewhat reluctantly. I am addicted and am working on rectifying that particular shortcoming. I don't smoke marijuana and have no desire to. Not because I feel morally superior to anybody (I honestly couldn't care less), but because I'm attempting to 1) eliminate everything that I shouldn't ingest (be it tobacco or hard liquor or transfats) and 2) shift to a good, clean, wholesome, natural diet. That and, unlike most, I can't stand the smell of weed... particularly out of bongs.

Anyway, there are only two non-bullshit ways for myself to come to terms with this ironic substance-based political football: make both tobacco and marijuana completely illegal (which I don't personally support, but at least it obviates the contradiction), or make/keep them legal and allow people to fuck themselves up the way they want to fuck themselves up.

Honestly, it is far more difficult to me to name 10 people I know who don't smoke marijuana than it is for me to name 10 people who do. In fact, I can probably name 100 I know personally who smoke weed before I can name 10 friends who don't. And, you know, none of those people are criminals, drug addicts, or otherwise bad people (some are assholes, yeah, and others are idiots, but that's beside my point). They're more-or-less law-abiding, friendly, and hard-working folks.

And, no, I don't feel that marijuana is some dangerous "gateway drug" (no more so than cigarettes, beer, or... say... fetish pornography) that will lead to hardcore use of cocaine and/or heroin. And, no, I don't feel that all drugs should be legalized, either.

All that stated, I will only support the pro-weed movement if the pro-weed movement supports the pro-tobacco movement. Quid pro quo is the way to go! Not really, but you (hopefully) get my point: how the Hell can a society or counter-culture (counter-culture... love that term) support one, but not the other? It's all propaganda. We already know that both are bad for you, medicinal uses notwithstanding. But who gives a shit? Neither in-and-of-themselves leads to any sort of deviance or delinquency. And, really, they're both cheap and easy to enjoy. So who cares? Tax 'em!

Anyway, there's no real point to this other than pointing out the obvious irony. Legalize one; keep the other legal. Everyone's too uptight these days, anyway.

Things I Did On Thanksgiving

Well, another Thanksgiving has come and gone and, as usual, I didn't do a whole lot. I haven't had dinner with the family since 2006 (which was the first time I had Thanksgiving dinner with the family since 1995). Hell, I didn't even have dinner this year. I don't know why, but such things don't bother me. I get berated for my blasé attitude a lot by many people, but I just don't change. Okay, maybe I change a little, as I did actually have plans this year, but my change is slow (unlike Obama's version of it... oh, wait a sec).

Anyway... what did I do this year?

I slept in until very late... like, a few hours after noon late. I did wake up to let the dogs out this morning, but other than that I stayed on the couch.

I argued with the person I had plans with, since xhe (a ha!) summarily canceled on me on the account of being depressed. I was supposed to go to her sister's for dinner and I'm fairly certain she told her sister that I pulled out, rather than what really happened. I even turned down two other Thanksgiving invitations in order to go, so I'm a tad annoyed about this.

The following happened on the 25th: I learned how to juggle three balls! Finally! Yes, I'm way too happy about this.

I played a video game called Plants vs. Zombies (really... but it's awesome... you should check it out) until I collected one of every plant for my Zen Garden (play the game to find out what that is... or Google it).

I had one cigarette and a limited amount of nicotine. And I had two pots of coffee (and broke a coffee cup, to boot).

I listened to every song on my Sprint phone at least three times. I love Sprint Music. I only download the free songs, but they tend to be really good and from obscure artists I would have otherwise never heard of.

I wrote this.

'Til next year!

More Inebriated Profoundness

No, I'm not as blitzed as I was the last time I blogged drunk, but I'm still a bit loopy. So, in light of the fact that a friend of mine just passed out while on the phone with me, I'm going to attempt ten profound thoughts again.

Or, rather, not-so-profound thoughts.

We shall see what we see, won't we? (somebody please tell me what movie that's from... I can't think)

1. I do not sing. I cannot sing. I don't care what you heard or from whom.

2. One plus one equals two.

3. Blood is definitely thicker than water... and leaves a bigger mess when spilled.

4. I had two cigarettes in the past week. I think this makes me a bad person.

5. Whoever said "there's no place like home" never went anywhere.

6. Don't axe me a question!

007. James Bond is the shit.

8. Friends you've never met are less likely to judge you.

9. Damn you, Barefoot! Cheap Merlot isn't supposed to be good!

10. Jaclyn Smith and Cheryl Ladd were way better Angels than Farrah Fawcett ever was. Yeah, I said it. Got a problem?

Meh... I didn't drink enough, I think.

A Cigarette When You Don't Want One

Smoking's a crutch in so many ways. It's an excuse, an abuse, and a reason to drink more coffee. People trying to quit, like myself, look for anything negative or otherwise not ideal to serve as motivation to light up a smoke. I had a bad day, for instance, which is why there's a pack of fresh Camel Turkish Silvers on my desk. And, yeah, I hate myself for it. There's nothing worse than a hypocrite. Other than a liar, of course, but I guess hypocrisy is nothing more than lying to oneself.

It's strange, though, the first cigarette smoked after an extended period of not smoking tends to flood both the mind and the body with strange and enlightening memories. I can't explain it in words, really, but I'm fairly certain any smoker reading this will know what I'm talking about. There's that flash of innocence from the way ash overwhelms the taste buds. Maybe it's a reminder of innocence lost... a fleeting glimpse into a personal history before an initial cigarette was ever smoked.

Not sure I've ever written about it, but I started smoking for the most retarded of reasons: a girl. Yep. I'm an idiot. Now that I'm older I feel qualified to throw this piece of advice out there: don't ever do anything just to impress a girl. Or, if you are a girl, don't ever do anything just to impress a guy. It's just going to backfire anyway. In my case, it's led to damn near 10 years of lungs that should be a lot cleaner.

Actually, come to think of it, I didn't actually start smoking around this particular specimen of the female gender. That honor goes to a few soldiers I served with, and a few days of hedonism in Las Vegas. I mean, shit, what else are you going to do in Vegas other than be hedonistic? Then again, one can argue that the first few cigarettes one smokes are most certainly not pleasurable, so I guess there's that hypocrisy thing again.

I did mention that cigarettes make people justify the most inane of actions, no?

Adding to the ridiculousness of it all, I would tell people that I learned how to smoke while researching a role for a script I had written. Keep in mind that this was years before I was even peripherally introduced to the film industry. A young shit-talker full of shit. And, obviously, attempting to hide the real reason for the suicidal slow burn.

But, I've had a bad day. And it's too late to clear up the smoke in the room. So I guess I'll just have another cigarette I don't even really want.

An Age of Friends

His coffee didn't taste good to him tonight. Nor, for that matter, did his cigarette. It's as if decades of his old reliables had eroded any pleasures his pleasures had afforded him. But he didn't mind. He knew the time was coming. And, so, he wrapped himself up in his ragged Army blanket, barely noticing the pain in his chest, and returned his attention to trying to keep warm in front of the roaring fire.

His memories wandered as the flames ebbed and the embers cooled. Family would have been on his mind, but he had none to speak of. Instead, he remembered his friends. His ages of friends.

When he was a little boy growing up in a San Diego suburb, he remembered that all he had to do to see most of his friends was walk a few hundred feet west or east, down a few houses on his block, and ring a doorbell. Sometimes a mother or a sister who he would feel attracted to would answer the door, and his shy little voice would ask, "Can he come out and play?"

Occasionally the question would be answered with a seemingly heartless "no," usually on Sundays when one of his overly religious friends had to read from something referred to as "the Good Book" or some such nonsense. His agnostic upbringing couldn't discern the concept, so he would continue down the street and ring another doorbell.

Usually, though, the answer would be yes, and he and his friend or friends would revel in a game of street ball (either baseball or football, both of which often resulted in broken living room windows or dismembered rearview windows from an unluckily parked car) or mock costumes consisting of blankets for capes and last year's Halloween masks in an imaginary world of superheroes.

Later on in life, through high school, college, and the military, he remembered that hanging out with friends required a bit more effort. Plans had to made, times had to be coordinated, and walking places was generally out of the question. Everybody had to drive, since everybody lived in different parts of the city. Being friends with neighbors was in the process of becoming an afterthought, and camaraderie seemed to belong in the realm of the workplace or the classroom. Back then, though, he didn't even notice. It just seemed natural.

Despite being older and more "free," hanging out with friends was more limited. Occasional movies, more than occasional drinks, and frequent loud, crowded, yet ultimately boring parties rounded out his repetoire. Sometimes he and his friends would get more creative and actually go away somewhere for a while... perhaps a camping trip, or an overseas adventure, maybe a skydive or a scuba dive or two... or both.

Still later in life, his friends were even farther away from him, as most moved away, or back home, or to one of those countries they might have visited during the overseas adventures. Neighbors once again became "friends" of sorts, but only because his mobility was becoming more and more hampered. Acquaintances, more likely, as he knew who his real friends were. Those men and women he grew up with, when friends were made without prejudices, and those men and women he served with, when friends were made in spite of prejudices. Everyone else, it seemed to him, were just faces in the crowd. Touched and gone, as it were.

Walking was definitely out of the question this time, as was driving... at least most of the time. Usually, seeing a friend involved a few hundred dollars and an uncomfortable plane ride. He went through a period of time in which he avoided them, under the auspices of saving a little cash, but when the destinations starting becoming funerals... well, he had too much respect for his friends not to go.

He remembered how he used to love hopping into an airplane, either on his way somewhere exotic or new, or on a one-way trip to a drop zone. Now, he hated them. Airplanes merely became a symbol of seeing a friend that one last time... only the friend wouldn't remember him coming, or even know he was there, laying the flower on the casket, throwing the dirt into the freshly filled grave. His tears went unnoticed... so much so that he soon quit shedding them altogether.

The fire had died long ago. The coffee long cold. The cigarette burned to ash down to the filter.

He remained there, curled up in his chair, underneath his blanket. His face seemed peaceful, serene, and had a hint of a smile.

A smile one only has when with friends... forever.

Realistic Resolutions for the New Year

New Year's resolutions are bunk. We all know that. Hell, anyone checking at my resolutions for 2007 would know that I didn't keep any of them.

So, this year, I'm going to make some that I know I can keep.

1. I resolve to eat lots of food, ignoring any possible health risks caused by said food.

2. I resolve to pet my cats and dogs, even while neglecting their desire to go for long walks.

3. I resolve to imbibe in alcohol, smoke an occasional cigarette, and throw up once or twice.

4. I resolve to watch a lot of movies, keep up with certain television series, and play video games when I have the time.

5. I resolve to cuss out someone who insults me, making them feel really small and really stupid.

6. I resolve to waste a lot of time on the Internet, remaining oblivious to the fact that there are other, more productive, tasks that require my attention.

7. I resolve to drive on the highways like they are my highways, acting as though the rest of the drivers out there are merely borrowing my road space.

8. I resolve to forget birthdays, anniversaries, and other special occasions due to my own self-centered and narcissistic tendencies.

9. I resolve to spend more money than I should, buy more things than I need, and deplete my savings in the name of fun.

There... that's better.

Sitting Down

My ass hurts. My legs hurt. My lower back hurts. Hell, even my elbows hurt. And, no, it's not from every guy's dream of too much sex.

It's from sitting down all fucking day, every day, for the last two weeks.

You see, while I'm home I either watch TV or fiddle around on this piece-of-junk computer. While I'm work I'm either sitting in my truck, driving around, or sitting in a sound booth doing crap. Sure, there are those occasional breaks of standing Foley work and the PA run-around-all-day jobs, but it's been a while since I've had a PA position.

Okay, so I can play with my dogs, right? Well, given their slow decline back into being feral, that becomes a health-risk unto itself, and never lasts long. Combined with the fact that I no longer live near open desert or out-of-the-way canyons, I can't even hike with them anymore.

So what do I do? Well, like I said, TV and computer. Which means I do absolutely nothing productive. Oh, sure, I write, but I haven't been able to type anything significant as of late, and the imagination has been reeling... probably due to a combination of sitting all day, bad diet, complete lack of exercise, and smoking a pack of cigarettes every day. By the way, the previous blog was an attempt at "character-building" for a story that clearly went awry. But, hey, at least now I'm trying.

I'm just sick of sitting down.

Off the Wagon... Again

I hate smoking. Seriously. I hate the occasional nicotine-tobacco-tar-induced headaches. I hate the smell it leaves on clothes and furniture. I hate the health risk. I hate the cost. I just hate smoking.

Which is probably why I started again last Monday.

Yeah, that didn't make any sense, and as I'm deliriously tired from an insane month, don't expect any sense from tonight's boredom-inspired writing.

Anyway... so I headed down to Atlanta last Sunday night in order to work on a television show. When I got there, I noticed that I was dangerously low on nicorette, my primary crutch when I attempt to quit. As I chewed my second-to-last piece, I did the respectable, sensible thing.

Yes, I went to the nearest store to buy more gum. No, wait... like a fucking moron, I bummed a cigarette off of my friend Brad. Why? I don't know. Because I'm a fucking moron.

Of course, I can always use the excuse "but all people on set smoke" (see: "but all soldiers smoke" for my military excuse), but the fact of the matter is I just felt like it. Maybe I just felt like it because I usually hate Atlanta (I loved it this time) and needed some edge off, but it's probably just because I'm a fucking moron.

Since Christmas Eve of 2005 I've been a non-smoker for a total of 17 months and even managed to ditch the nicorette during that time, but I can't seem to shake the relapses. Oddly enough, those relapses always seem to occur when I work a reality TV show.

Anyone have any suggestions (other than quit working reality TV shows)? Send them my way ASAP.

Nicotine-Withdrawal-Induced Musings

I chewed the last piece of Nicorette I had yesterday. Today, I am going through regular gum like it's heroin. An entire bag of blow pops, two 60-piece cans of Eclipse gum, and a pack of Dentyne Ice have all met their demise. I'd chew on my fingers, but you can't blow bubbles with flesh... or can you? Hmm...

Scooby Doo was invented by a Japanese guy. Who'd have thought? Two things can be deciphered from this fact. One, he almost made up for the Japanese social debacle that is known as karaoke. Two, the Japanese, realizing their attempt to corrupt American culture via automobiles and electronics had failed, were trying to screw us up on cartoons. Given the proliferation of manga and anime, I'd say they're well on their way to success.

If I'm not making any sense, blame it on the lack of nicotine.

There's a pizza chain accepting pesos now. Good customer service? Maybe. Or maybe it's time we pulled a European Union and forced Canada and Mexico to adopt the US dollar. Or maybe it's time we just shut up and let a business do what it wants to do. It's called freedom. So be it.

The NFL playoffs heat up this weekend with the divisional games. The rub? My sister is throwing my niece's birthday party this weekend, even though she was born on December 30th. The rub's rub? Out of the four playoff games, my sister scheduled my niece's birthday party at 2 PM Pacific Time on Sunday. Right smack dab in the middle of the Chargers-Patriots game. Guess which uncle isn't going to the birthday party?

If I seem like a dick, blame it on the lack of nicotine. Okay, fine, I'm always like this.

I love politics. Democrats, who are supposedly for cloning, specifically in terms of research and development, are suddenly against cloned food. For R&D, they claim that what we discover can only help, not hurt our civilization. For food, it's the opposite. I'm sorry, I was under the impression that John Kerry was no longer the face of the Democratic Party. Oh, well... they'll change their mind next month, anyway.

On the other hand, the Republicans actually seem to think that adding 20,000 troops is going to help the situation in Iraq. I agree, it's going to help the insurgents find more targets. There is a solution to the Iraq problem, but I highly doubt we're going to figure it out. Neither major political party is in any position to dictate how another country rebuilds itself.

Michael Moore is an ass, albeit an intelligent and talented one. Case in point, he not-too-long ago published a piece concerning the "fact" that we have been in Iraq longer than we fought in World War II. Basically, he's trying to equate that it took us less time to "defeat the Nips and the Nazis" in less time than it's taking us to "tame the Hajjis." And, once again, he's attempting to confuse his followers and the public-at-large with apples and oranges. Mr. Moore, if you want to make a real comparison, please add the amount of time we stayed in Germany and Japan as "occupational forces," which, whether you agree or not, is what we technically are in Iraq right now. Hmm... I guess we're still ahead of the timetable, aren't we? What a dickhead.

An Air Force vet was relieved of duty due to her appearance in Playboy. The Air Force claims that she violated some sort of "honor code." How? By appearing nude in a magazine that is readily recognized as an American institution? By appearing nude in the only erotic magazine that is allowed to be sold on military bases? By appearing nude? You fucking censors need to get lives.

Speaking of censors, how is Irreversible, the French film with the most disturbing rape scene in motion picture history, allowed to be shown uncut in the United States, but Malena, one of the most unassuming erotic and sadly romantic films in history, can only be shown after 17 minutes of the original version are cut out? We Americans are a strange and contradictory culture, aren't we?

Let me clarify Irreversible... it's not just the most disturbing rape scene in motion picture history, it's the most disturbing scene in motion picture history, period. No horror or slasher movie you can think of has a scene anywhere near as disturbing and disconcerting as that one.

Let me clarify Irreversible and Malena... I don't think either film should be censored. In America, we're accused of fearing sex but accepting violence. Progressives cite Europe as the "more mature" society, because they fear violence and accept sex. Personally, I think we're both idiots. In art, there's nothing wrong with sex nor violence. I'd say we should all turn Japanese, whose art is rife with hardcore sex and hardcore violence... but those assholes invented karaoke, and I'm having a hard time accepting that.

I'm getting irritable. Would anybody care if I have a cigarette? Just kidding. Although, I am about to start chewing my fingers.

Go Chargers!

Cigarette Musings

Until October 30th of this year, I hadn't had a cigarette since December 24th of last year. In fact, I hadn't had tobacco of any kind since December 24th of last year.

But, on October 30th, I took a drag of a friend's cigarette while sitting in a hotel bar in Elko, Nevada, drinking beer.

Fuck me.

Strangely, I didn't have another cigarette until two days later, when I returned to my real job and suddenly became very depressed. I know, I know... that's not an excuse, but it's what happened, so shut up. Since then, I've had about 40 cigarettes... not a high number, given the usual number of cigarettes smokers light up in a day, but still 40 more than I hoped to have smoked in 2006.

Anyway, I only had four today, after having five yesterday. I'm going to try and keep tomorrow down to three or less. I hate being a smoker, I do. Aw, fuck it.

On the flip side of things, I'm getting real sick of cities, states, what-have-yous passing laws limiting where smokers can smoke. Seriously, at least provide loopholes so businesses can open "smoker only" establishments if they want to.

In California, I had an inkling to open a movie theater that would have one or two screens physically separate from the main cineplex and ventilated separately, and would allow smokers to smoke while watching the movie. But, no... the way the laws are set up this is completely illegal. Pretty stupid, huh? I can't fathom the idiot non-smoker that would complain about a separate building allowing smoking, but I guess they do.

That being said, even I admit that six feet between a smoking section and a non-smoking section in a restaurant doesn't quite cut it... but come on... if a business is willing to invest the money to ventilate and physically segregate the smoking section from the non, why can't they do that?

Ridiculous.

Good thing I'm temporarily broke, because I think I just pissed myself off enough to go buy a pack of smokes.

I'm so pathetic.

One Billion Tobacco Deaths? Big Whoop

I read an article a couple of days ago that claimed the 21^st century will see one billion people die from tobacco-related causes. One billion. The American Cancer Society and World Health Organization see this as a huge problem; one worthy of being declared an "emergency."

I say screw 'em.

I don't mean that in a bad way, but seriously, one billion people? Over the course of a century? That's not too bad, if you ask me. In fact, it helps out another "problem" that the World Health Organization is worried about: overpopulation. Not only that, these smokers are dying from something that, in all likelihood, THEY WANT TO DO. It's not like one billion people are getting run over by drunk drivers or getting thrown off of cliffs. It's smoking, which is an acquired habit, and which they can quit if they really wanted to (as a former smoker, I feel entitled to say that). But you know what, most of them LIKE IT.

I say let 'em smoke.

One billion people over 100 years really isn't that bad of a number. That's about 10 million deaths per year on average, which is less than 5% of the American population. Given that the birth rate is still high enough to blow the death rate out of the water, what is everyone so concerned about? Besides, wouldn't we all like a little more elbow room? I know those living in Los Angeles, New York, Seoul, Mexico City, Tokyo, and all of those other crazy places sure as hell would.

Now, I'm not claiming that the world is overcrowded, or is anywhere near it's "sustenance limit," but the fact remains that in 1950, the world's population was only about 2.5 billion. It is currently estimated to be about 6.5 billion. Think about that. Thanks to medicine, technology, and the like, we went from taking THOUSANDS UPON THOUSANDS of years to reach 2.5 billion to taking only 55 years to add another 4 billion more. And, at the current growth rate, the world is expecting to hit 9.2 billion by 2050.

Shit... let 'em smoke, let 'em die. Like I said, at least it'll be from something chosen, and not some fucked up accident.