‘fire on the mountain, run boys run’

Today, I am learning how to knit and how to blog. You read me right. The knitting thing is a direct result of my current (vain?) effort to quit smoking. What the fuck else am I supposed to do with my hands? The blogging thing that’s trickier. Er…what am I supposed to do with the voices in my head? I kid, I kid. I NEVER let those voices out.
I have been trying to complete the second stitch on my knitting needle for about four hours. It’s going well. At this rate I will have mastered the ‘art’ somewhere near the end of the millennium. I have no idea why I have decided to quit smoking. In part, it’s because of the haters. For real. Is there another vice which people in general feel so compelled to run their fucking mouths about? If I’m not smoking in your house (I’m not. I don’t even smoke in mine.)? In your car? Or near you for that matter is it any of your business ? If this is the part where the, ‘it is about my taxes paying your medical bills’ argument kicks in? I say, “Please, have another drink.” Sure, you can drive. Send me a bill for the cost of your incarceration. “How about another Big Mac?” I’ll buy and pick up the cost of YOUR triple bi-pass. The point is we ALL got vices but this one seems to be everybody’s business. Smoking and gay marriage are apparently the purview of everyone in the world.
The dying part, sucks. It seems to be a miserable way to go, OF COURSE, I can think of worse. The only reason I’ve heard FOR quitting which seems to have STUCK is the logic of those ‘small’ voices in my life. (While it is true that the aforementioned voices do resonate in my dome, they are not in fact “those voices.” ) I’ve yet to rationalize a method for explaining to the children in my life (Who, inexplicably LOVE me? They just DO.) that we are all going to die, so, just deal with it. “Go on, step outside. Let’s see what happens, Kid.” Seems a bit much for my three year old cousin to process, yeah? So, she wins. They win. For now.
Blogging. Writing when I was younger was how I processed everything. It was the ONLY way in which I would engage in the world on ‘my terms.’ My communications or at least my verbal aptitudes, left much to be desired, intentionally. Writing was safe. Anything else that needed to be addressed music conveyed for me. I’m not sure when I stopped writing. Probably, about the time I started using ‘big girl’ methods of communicating? Today , though…well not TODAY literally, just today generally, I’ve begun to try and process ‘my terms’ as they existed then and as they manifest now. So, it stands to reason writing has become compelling again. Thusly, today I knit and I blog. Did you follow all that?


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