Addiction

Addiction is a scary thing. The only drug I'm addicted to is nicotine. But I've seen firsthand what addiction will drive people to. Some of the worst addictions I've seen are behavioral not drugs.

Everything in moderation is a good rule. But one that's hard to stick to. We long to be happy and instead of working hard and making real accomplishments we often take the easy happiness.

The quick drink at the bar to calm the day away can becomes drinking every night to erase the day or just to feel the softnening of the world around you. People drink to alleviate real physical pain, emotional pain, and the pain of boredom. They chase the bottle because it helps at least temporarily. It stops the thinking the doubting. Everything just is rather than having to do something about it. I know a lady who drank her way through not just one but two livers. She died an alcoholic and in pain. I know a man who after 20 plus years of sobriety decided he could handle a drink which led to just one more until he stumbled to his car and on the way home hit and killed a kid on a bike.

Addictions cost us. The money for the booze or pills or cigarettes. The slow buildup of poison in the body. It can cost relationships. It can even cost a life.

All for an easy fix. A quick snort. Just one more time.

Why not just walk away from it? How hard can it be? As anyone who'll admit to addiction will say, harder than they think they can stand. The brain and body become so used to the toxins they begin to need them. Any reformed smoker can tell you, the first quit doesn't usually take. We backslide into the habits even after they no longer bring us joy or even the illusion of contentment. We start up again because we just need to feel normal. We need it to get through the day. Without it there's craving and temper and withdrawal. Which depending on your drug of choice can be agonizing.

And if we succeed in quitting and get past the withdrawal and all that comes with it. Then we can transfer onto something new. We ease off one then overdo on another. Quitting drinking means you're smoking like a fiend. Finally off the heroin, here's some methadone. Sometimes the cure is worse than the disease.

Someone once told me it takes three days to make a habit and seven to break it. That sounds about right. And we are creatures of habit. The vast majority of us stick to routine. Whether it's having our morning caffeine and nicotine or getting blitzed after work.

Am I saying there's no hope? Of course there's hope. It's hard work everyday. Stopping the habits as soon as you see them start. Remembering that quick fixes never truly fix anything. They just leave you more broken in the end. Support is necessary. We are fallible. We need help. Asking for it can be the hardest thing to do.

Take it minute by minute then hour by hour then day by day. Each minute counts. I'm truly proud of my friends who have managed to save themselves from their addictions. It's a hard hard task and I honor them for it.

My fascination with Hugh Laurie

Most of America knows Hugh Laurie as the acerbic sarcastic and injured Dr. Gregory House on House.
He rocks the part. Always bringing heart and humor however dark to every episode. House could easily be written off as just a jackass. But darling Hugh makes him lovable.

I've been a fan of Hugh's since I was a teen. I used to watch him playing the addled prince on Blackadder with Rowan Atkinson. A randy drunken dimwit who couldn't do anything not even put on his pants by himself. It was a role that called for blatant goofiness and Hugh filled it. Tall and gangly he wobbled thrugh his days held up by the dastardly yet oh so entertaining Rowan.

In a later season of Blackadder, his role was that of a gung ho soldier on the front lines of WW2 with not enough brain to fill a thinble. He was the moral compass of the group. Definitely a company man.

He made me giggle and laugh and even occasionally guffaw. Then I saw him in Jeeves and Wooster.

P.G. Wodehouse wrote the books the series was based on They stayed true to the spirit of Wodehouse.Silliness and antics and nothing more devasting than a broken engagement. And there were lots of engagements. It was the language that I loved. Jeeves in his livery when asked"Who's at the door?" would reply "I shall endeavor to ascertain, sir." It sounds so much better than I'll go see.

Hugh in his role as Betrum Wooster, a man of neglible intelligence would wander through life with Jeeeves the stalwart and ingenious manservant by his side.

So when he showed up on American TV playing a sharp as a tack mean spirited doctor, I was shocked. Then I fell in love all over again. I love his skills as an actor and as a musician. His singing voice needs some work but is still vastly entertaining.

Alas, he's married with kids, and I'll probably never meet him. But if I did, I would have to thank him for the laughs and the tears. Well played, sir, well played.

Museums

I grew up going to museums of all sorts. Art museums, science museums, natural history museums. The only one that left me cold was the Space and Aeronautics museum. I just don't appreciate technology as much as people and their history and art. I leave the technofilia to my Dad and brother.

I just want the technology to work but have no interest on how it does. Like cars, my favorite car I ever had was my Geo Metro. I'd rather drive a Smart Car than a Ferrari. I'm much less likely to get a ticket in the Smart Car.

Back to museums....

My favorite museum is The Metropolitan Museum of Art. I could wander for days in there. The Guggenheim while having amazing architecture is full of modern art. Blah to most of it. I want the renaissance section. I love portraits.

I don't get excited to see a yellow canvas with blue rectangles on it. I love texture and color and beauty in my art. I don't particularly want to be challenged by art.

The Met has a fantastic website that I wander through whenever I'm feeling culture deprived. I look at the old masters and marvel at art that has been seen by millions. I would love to visit the Louvre. Since all the french I know I learned from Beauty and the Beast. I may have a hard time of it.

Art museums treasure beauty and style and the grace of the brushstroke. Paintings are only to feed the soul. Or (blech) Modern art which challenges it. Paintings to beautiful to be destroyed hang on walls. Sculptures and statuary even when damaged still stand and are admired. It's the history of what we think is pretty.

I need to hit up a museum soon.

Where did the poems go?

The poetry has a new home at kythanaipoem.blogspot.com Please check it out. New and old stuff keeps getting added.

Perverted Squirrel

I was eating indian food at this really good little restaurant with my brother. Saag paneer and aloo paratha yumminess. It was a sunny and mild day so we had chosen to eat outside at a little two top. We noticed the squirrel immediately. He was fat and fast. He was also totally unafraid.

We talked about taming wild critters as we ate and that squirrels and seagulls were the worst at begging for food. Bob started tossing him little bits of naan anyway.

The squirrel kept coming closer and closer until it was right by my foot. Unsure of it's tempremant, I jumped up. This scared the squirrel. He darted for someplace to hide.

He choose my broomstick skirt.

I was yelping and jumping up and down as this squirrel ran laps around the inside of my skirt. My brother yelled at me to stand still. Which I did immediately. The squirrel dropped and ran for a phone pole and darted up it.

The little bastard was staring at me like it was my fault.

The waiter came out to check on us having heard my cries. My brother said" It was just a perverted squirrel that wanted up her skirt."

Wanting the End

I tend to write out whatever I'm feeling at the time. I came across some old entries in one of my numerous journals. Reading it shook me more than a little.

I had written these during my teenage years when I was suffering from a deep depression.

"Depression is getting worse. Almost burst into tears twice today. Reason: none. I can't stand not being able to control my emotions. I don't want them locked up in a little book, but I ... I just don't know what to do. Do you ever feel when in a crowded room no matter how many people are there laughing and talking that none of them knows anything about you? I'm a disturbed person. I need to go into therapy. Too bad my mom doesn't care. X stop strike that. I know she loves me. She just can't deal with a suicidal (at times) teen. She just says I read too much. Even when she said she'd get me help, she didn't. It just makes me feel like she doesn't give a damn. She is so convinced I wouldn't do anything against her will. She is always disappointed in me. Nothing I do is ever good enough. I'll never get it right so why even try? I don't want to die. I even have a stupid reason for that though. I don't want to make my boyfriend suffer. Sometimes, most times it would be best if I never existed at all."

It gets worse.

"I want to die. I don't want to die but I want to die. Depression does tricky things with your mind. I just want to sleep forever. Never cry again. Never hurt anymore. I've had my share. This is enough. I hate me. Why do I want to die? Realistically I have a good life. I can't control this feeling. I'm so scared I'll go through with it. Why can't I get into a car accident and just be killed? I want to end all this suffering. I can't go on like this. God, please kill me. I'm having a bad day."

" I was going to talk to my guy and tell him what I was thinking but I didn't want to upset him. He'd have been mad at me for even thinking about myself that way. I'm not worth getting upset over. All I do is cause trouble."

"I was driving around today and knew all I would have to do is turn the wheel towards a tree and it would be all over. I kept drifting toward the right and then stopping myself. I just want this to be over."

It's easy to block out the unhappiness of yesterday. It was so long ago. I was in a bad bad way for a long time. I couldn't see the light for the shadows.

I even had a plan on how I would do it. I would slice my wrists in the bathtub. It would be easier to clean up that way. I didn't feel I was worth cleaning up after.

What stopped me is a story I'll tell at a later time.

Four

Mostly this is four Jen.

We were working at the coffee shop and this moron was working with us. Jen being manager had told him to throw more bagels in the oven knowing it would be a busy morning. Instead of the regular dozen each flavor, he only put in 4 of each.

Jen pulled me to the side and told me about it. "Four! Can you believe it? Four!"

Four being said in an outraged tone is just funny to hear.

We started laughing.

"He must only have 4 brain cells."
"His pants are 4 inches to short."
"He has 4 strands of hair on his head."

"Four?" asked in mock outrage.
"Four!" replied in declaration.

The rest of the day every time "four" was mentioned, we'd laugh like crazy.

"Would you like 4 sugars in that coffee?"
"Oh, no! I clocked in 4 minutes late."
"I must've cleaned off that table 4 times."

Years have passed, way more than four, and we can still make each other laugh by simply saying the word.

That's why we'll be friends Four - ever.