I get by with a little help from my friends

Getting through New Year’s Eve without a cigarette was easier than I had expected.  Here’s the solution: don’t go out to the bars!  I was so tempted to, but I knew that it would end in catastrophe.  Not to mention that I saved a butt load of money.  I did go to a friend’s house for a bit, but left after a short while.  I ended up on my couch, watching “Planet Terror” and “Death Proof,” while drinking vodka and water with frozen strawberries in it.  I hate vodka, but there was nothing else to drink.

Why was there nothing else to drink?  Well, I had intended to stop and grab some champagne after work yesterday.  However, my car died in the Target parking lot.  I sat in the lot for about 15 minutes trying to rev up the engine until panic hit me.  It was about zero degrees outside, 5pm, and New Year’s Eve.  Who the hell was gonna be open?  I called my friend, Seun, who came out within 15 minutes to help me.  We tried to get the car to work, which it did for about 5 minutes.  I finally called the body shop that fixed my car after my last collision with a 19 year old who couldn’t drive.  They called a tow truck for me.

We sat in Seun’s car forever, but he is extremely entertaining company.  The tow company called me about an hour later and informed me that they would charge about $150 dollars.  Insane.  Seun grabbed the phone from me and tried to haggle down the price, unsuccessfully as you can imagine.  Instead we tried driving my car to the body shop.  It died less than a mile from Target.  He pushed the car to a parking spot (those huge Nigerian muscles do come in handy), and we left it there.  What will conclude will have to wait until this damned holiday weekend is over.

I am proud of myself that I didn’t beg him to take me to a gas station to buy a pack of Camel Lights.  Instead he drove me home and repeatedly told me not to worry about the car, and even devised a plan to get it fixed.  Damn, I wish all people in life could be that helpful.

So, no champagne for Maggie.  Instead, I have a vodka hangover.  I also didn’t get up until 3:30pm.  My Friday is wasted on exhaustion.  In my drunken haze I believe I did eat a bit to much to deal with the nicotine cravings…like…a bag of chips and hummus…and a bagel.  But, whatever, I plan on renewing my gym membership since it’s too freezing to run outside.

The next hump to get over is celebrating my birthday at a bar on Saturday without a ciggie.  And, yes, I can do it.

Happy New Year to everyone!  I hope it will bring new opportunities and joy into your life.  And I sincerely hope that we can all work toward our dreams, and do it with mindfulness and love in our hearts.

I think I just made myself vomit in my mouth a little bit.

Namaste,

Mags

Day 5

I just ate 6 samosas, veggie chips and garlic hummus, and a quarter of a pie. Yes, a quarter. That is this much:

of this:

The sad part is that I could totally eat more.  No cigarettes = gluttony. Ummm I need a new hobbie.

On the fourth day of quitting

I had a headache most of today.  It could have either been the stress or the nicotine patches, or just general withdrawal.  Either one of the three, the next rule is as follows.

Lesson three of quitting: ALWAYS CARRY PAIN KILLERS.

The first entirely stressful event happened today since I quit.  And, of course, what did I want to do?  I wanted to smoke smoke smoke.  I didn’t.  Please applaud.  Instead, I started crying.  Not sure if I prefer crying (I don’t at all actually), but I suppose it’s healthier…?  I would like to find something more constructive than turning into a blubbering baby.  But,  I suppose stress of no cigarettes compiled with the stress of STRESS just made me explode.  Needless to say, it was embarrassing.

I don’t have much of a lesson about that one.  Just…be prepared to cry I suppose.  Not much of an unexpected occurrence.

And now I will leave you with a very disturbing vintage cigarette advertisement.

Sincerely,

Your favorite cry baby.

3 Days Without a Ciggie.

I quit smoking on Christmas Eve.    After work, I inhaled two Camel Lights and handed the remainder of the pack to my roommate.  ”Give this to anyone who wants it.”  We have friends who smoke, so I figured it would be better to give away free cancer sticks.  It’s not like flushing them down the toilet would stop anyone from buying more packs.  I got in the car with my Father, and he drove me home.  Christmas was okay.  The day after you quit is usually the easiest day; this is my experience from previous attempts to quit.  Note that I had asked my parents to buy my nicotine patches for Christmas.  My Mother decided that this was a crummy idea for a present, and so she did not.  The day after Christmas, I was begging my parents for them.  My Father had to head over to Sam’s Club anyway.  $50 for the second step (I didn’t smoke enough for the first step) and $32 for the third.  How, might I ask, do people without health insurance AFFORD these things?  Christ.

Anyway, a friend of mine advised that I cut them in half.  I was about to do so, but my Father (because he is insistent that he knows everything) demanded that I use the entire patch, pointing at the words which read “DO NOT CUT PATCH” on the box.  So, I slapped an entire patch on my right upper arm.  About 1/2 an hour later I got nicotine poisoning.  Basically, I wanted to pass out and puke at the same time.  I couldn’t even stand up.  I removed the damned thing and cut it in half.  Within an hour, I just took it off.  There was way too much nicotine in my system to even go out to dinner with my family.  What worked best for the remainder of the night was a third of a patch.  The next day, duly noted Jennifer, I cut the poisonous patch in half.

Lesson one of quitting: CUT THE NICOTINE PATCH

I am cranky.  And when I say CRANKY, I mean cranky.  I arrived home this evening and our (Anna and I) smoker friends did not finish my cigarettes.  Now I know why people flush them down the toilet.  It’s not so that other people can’t smoke.  It’s for two reasons: people are unreliable, especially smokers; and, the sight of a cigarette on day three without a cigarette is just unbearable.  What made it even more frustrating is that one flush didn’t eliminate the enemy.  I almost (ALMOST) considered reaching in there to pick up the soggy cigarette.  However, my brain told me to piss on it.  So, I did.  I may be crazy, but I’m not going to smoke a soggy urine cigarette.  The second flush got rid of most of it, except for a few tobacco pieces floating around.  I am trying to think of them as pieces of shit until I have to use the toilet again.

Lesson two of quitting: FLUSH THE REMAINING CIGARETTES DOWN THE TOILET.

Apologies to my friends who are conscientious about water conservation and pollution.  I felt like a bad treekid today, but…those kinds of sacrifices HAD to be made…or at least they did in my mind at day three without a cigarette.

Yours truly,

Cranky Ass

Critics

I have done a lot of thinking about writing lately.  I devoted four years of my life to analyzing literature. Now, I can’t help but think that I should have kept my creative writing minor and majored in something completely different.  Don’t get me wrong: I gained endless amounts of valuable knowledge from studying English.  I don’t regret it.  However, I now realize that I want nothing to do with literary criticism.  I enjoyed it, but really it distracted me from my real connection with literature.  The true art is the creation of fiction.  And so I hand in my critiques.  Give them a grade if you must, but it doesn’t make much of a difference anymore.  I resign from wielding cold literary theory against thin paper pages; my only job has ever been to fill them up with ink.

This presents me with a new kind of blog.  I dare say that the general use of the blog on the web has gone through a major transition in the past several years.  It began as an on line journal, if I remember correctly.  Now it seems to be the new form in which everything appears from movie reviews to political commentary.  The argument has been made that “now anyone can be a critic.”  Well, everyone has always been a critic.  The difference now is the extent to which everyone can make their critiques public.  Everyone is a critic because everyone has turned their blog into mini newspaper.

I attempted to write a book review site, but now that I am quite sick of hearing everyones’ damn opinion on every novel, novella, short story, or poem, I QUIT.  I would say that it’s back to the on line journal, but I’m not even sure about that.  I suppose the best thing to do is to make it a free-form blog.  I’ll share my thoughts and experiences with you as they come and as they are prevalent.

Lots of transitions in my life have occurred.  I will share them with you soon.

Karma…?

I hit a semi last Monday.  More specifically, the wind blew my car into a semi.  According to the police this happens a lot. My response to that is: “…Uh, it shouldn’t…”  I don’t see how that is fair.  Nature vs The Weight of a Car.  I am poor. I can’t afford a Mercedes with a smash-proof heavy frame.  Nor do I want a huge truck or mini van that eats gas like a fat man eats Krispy Cream Donuts.  What are my odds against nature?  Well, apparently my odds are fine. I am miracuously alive, and just bruised.  I wonder why on earth my head didn’t fly off, or why I didn’t break something at the very least.  A crash like that and you figure that Dr. Gregory House would be trying to figure out why I’m bleeding internally in my toes and my lungs are filled with anti-freeze.  I didn’t take a picture of the car, but here’s what I found online that resembles it:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

FEAST YOUR EYES ON THAT.

My car is now obsolete.  And whose fault is it?  Nature’s.  Is it good karma, or bad karma I ask you?  I’m alive = good.  My car is dead = bad.  God called and she was obviously trying to tell me something.

I am kidding, of course. I am more important than my now deceased Saturn Ion.  I’m pretty grateful to be alive at the moment.  And I have a new appreciation for my recent healthy obsession with Lily Allen.  Why be ashamed?  She’s British.  She’s cute. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Someone pass me a napkin?  I just drooled a bit.

In better, less pop-music-y, news: I got a full-time job in Chicago finally.  I am moving closer to BBT (Bare Boned Theatre) so I can continue to write for them. YAY!  I am excited about the move. I love Chicago…even if it is freezing there…

I finished reading The Watchmen.  I liked it…I think…I don’t really know.  The concept of reading a book with pictures of characters who are talking is a bit surreal for me.  It’s just the visual age.  People can’t create images in their head from words on a page, they have to see it.  This new concept of the graphic novel (of course it’s not that new at all, but it is to me) makes me sad.  But I have to admit that The Watchmen is a good story.  I can’t imagine that the movie is any good though; I don’t see how it could work.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

See: Dr. Manhattan is sad that Hollywood has ruined his reputation. 

WOULD SOMEONE PLEASE MAKE AN ORIGINAL FUCKING MOVIE?!  I am sick of all these adaptations.

WoRdVoMiT

Everything is a carbon copy of a carbon copy of a carbon copy…

I have been all over the place lately – physically and mentally.  I find myself constantly en route to Chicago or to Lansing.  It’s a four hour drive that I can now do without batting an eye.  And yet, I’m quite aware that every time I travel I am upping my chances of a car accident.  Or, the fact that my mother is aware of this is making me more aware of it.  Familia Paranoia – is it contagious?  What is happening are two things: I write for a small theatre in Chicago AND I am searching for a job there.  I think some of you may sort of understand how important it is to me to keep up with my commitment to the theatre, but, no, you really have no idea.  It’s important enough that I am willing to drive back and forth constantly – that’s all any of you can really gather.  It’s an amazing experience for me – that much (I’m sorry, but) you cannot fathom.

Three of my friends have passed away in the last few months.  One I only met the other weekend at a party, and a day later he was gone.  Not much time to allow for any kind of attachment, but I did feel shock.  It’s quite complicated for me to wrap my head around it.  One day someone is having conversations about religion, philosophy, and film; they are making jokes, laughing, genuinely interested in everyone around them.  The next day, they have taken their own life.  It’s almost impossible for me to grasp at this moment.

I am entering a new part of my life.  People are getting married.  People are dying.  My thoughts are more lucid and I can articulate them much more clearly than I ever could.  Not to mention that I can articulate them to complete strangers at times.  Have I really spent that much time in my life not talking?  Or, maybe I can just hear myself these days. I haven’t written a blog like this in ages and don’t worry, I won’t do it too often.  My life just seems to be in upheaval. it’s not good, it’s not bad, it’s just a bit scary.

Stay tuned for more productive stuff when I have the time and the energy.

Skinny, or just privileged?

 

Review.Time

Skinny Bitch

Rory Freedman and Kim Barnouin

 

This book has a catchy title that the authors chose (and they state that they chose it) to make money. If people knew that Freedman and Barnouin were promoting veganism, I doubt they would purchase the book. Luckily, they’re not idiots. They’re skinny bitches.

I understand the push for veganism. The FDA has gotten a bit out of hand. Our health and our bodies are no longer their main source for concern. Note, furthermore, that our well-being was never their concern to begin with. I also do agree with their view on vegetarianism. I’ve felt the same way for years, and the book finally pushed me to cut it out of my diet completely.

However (and there is always a “however”), I was taken a-back by their claim that people often use their hard earned money on things that aren’t as nearly important as food. According to the authors, refusing to purchase organic, locally grown, vegan, and/or vegetarian products because they are too expensive is not an excuse. We should stop spending money on other things apparently. I have to ask these two young ladies – are you poor?

I doubt it. I also doubt that they’ve considered that some people don’t have the luxury of saving money that they could have spent on other objects. Some people can barely afford food from WalMart. Perhaps the agenda here should be to make good food more affordable, to challenge the Federal Government to take an interest in our health, not to insult us with their naively classist candor. The authors also seem to think that PETA is the main authority on all things pertaining to a “cruelty-free” diet.  Sometimes I do agree with PETA, but let’s face it – they are a bit outrageous.  Boycotting everything under the sun and exploiting it in a violently gruesome way is not always the right way to get your agenda noticed.  More often than not, PETA forgets that not all people think of animals as beings with rights.  They need to remember that animals do not have the same rights as human beings, they are simply entitled to them. 

I digress.

Most people will not finish this book. It is written by a model and a woman who has her master’s in holistic nutruition.  That’s enough to turn the majority of americans away from the message. Their main, and probably most important points in the book are as follows: trust no one and use your head.  I would suggest that anyone who picks up this book be quite suspicious of everyone’s opinion on food (especially the authors’), and take what they wish to from this collection of insightful (and sometimes nauseating) pointers.

“Once I was very brave.”

That Magnificent Part the Chorus Does about Tragedy

By Lisa Olstein

THERE IS A theory of crying that tears are the body’s way of releasing excess elements from the brain.  There is a theory of dreaming that each one serves to mend something torn, like cells of new skin lining up to cover a hole.  I’m not one to have dreams about flying, but last week we were thirty feet above the bay – this was where we went to discuss things, so that no matter what we decided it was only we two out there, and we’d have to fly back together.  I’m not one to have dreams where animals can speak, but last night a weeping mare I’d been told to bridle wanted me to save her.  We discussed what was left of her ability to take children for rides – how much to trot, how much to canter – but I wasn’t sure I could do it, having already bridled her and all.  I was once very brave.  Once I was very brave.  I was very brave once.  I boarded a plane before dawn.  I carried all those heavy bags.  I stayed up the whole night before folding the house into duffel bags.  I took a curl from the base of your skull and opened the door to the rusty orange wagon and weighed those heavy duffel bags and smiled at the airport official.  I boarded a tiny propeller plane and from a tiny window I watched you walk back to the rusty orange wagon.  They say the whole world is warming by imperceptible degrees.  I watched the rusty orange wagon go whizzing by.

With a sigh of relief, I exhale out 2008.

I spent my New Year’s with Rachel and Tom.  These fabulous two individuals. It couldn’t have been a better idea.  I hadn’t seen them in what seemed like ages, and in reality was about a year.  They introduced me to their new (and quite smiley) friends.

Lindsay and Gabe

Jim (and Rach)

Miriam

 

 

 

 

 

I met many more people than this, but it only lasted for a short three days.  I will have to return, however. Tuesday night I arrived after driving for 10PM hours. A long drive, but I am accustomed to it and absolutely can’t stand planes and trains. I met Nicole and Miriam, two of Rachel’s (dready) friends who attacked me with hugs the very moment I walked in the door. We wandered to her drum circle after eating a yummy magpie-style meal that Tom put together for us. I was a bit low key on the music-making since it was my first time, but I thoroughly enjoyed dancing about during drum circle.

The next day, while Rachel was enslaved at work, I drove out to Norristown to see Ms. Cory French.

 

 

 

 

 

I was also introduced to her wonderful doggie, Maya, and her boyfriend, Jeff.

Jeff and Maya

  

Insanely good and sweet people. Cory and I went out to lunch together at PF Chang’s and ate our body weight in delicious food. I then drove back in nasty traffic to Rachel’s place in West Philadelphia. She managed to get off work early. Lindsay, Gabe, Tom, Rach, and I went to get thai food, stopped by Tom and Gabe’s place for a bit, and then ventured out to greet our New Year’s party. I think we might have had the intention of party hopping, but didn’t budge from Meghan’s place.

Our wonderful hostess

Gabe and Alyssa

Tom fell asleep

We didn’t get to bed until about 4AM, as to be expected of a bunch of twenty-something rambunctious adults.  The next day Rachel and I had planned to go have breakfast together. We didn’t get up until 1PM.  And then we slowly tried to get up, but to no avail. We didn’t actually leave the house until 4PM on a search for caffine and some food.

Once our bodies were stuffed with wraps and beverages, Miriam and Jim came to pick us up. It was Jim’s birthday and so we celebrated by drinking and hoola hooping.

Dancing and Hooping

Tom and I went out the next day to find some presents for Anni, and to just generally hang out. I acquired a bunch of stuff, including my favorite incense and Truth is God by Gandhi. We then ran over to Melrose Diner with every intention of getting a slice of pie. What we ended up with was an entire coconut cream pie.

I left Philadelphia about half an hour later than intended, but was armed with dinner (a tofu hoagie that Rachel, Miriam, and Jim had highly recommended for me), which was quite difficult to eat while driving.  I pulled into a rest stop evetually so that I didn’t have sauted tofu stains all over my shirt. I made snail’s-pace time driving to Jersey, primarily because  it was during rush hour and getting dark. Luke literally had to come outside and flag me down when I arrived at his house.

 I unfortunately have very few pictures of the rest of my trip, but I figured it was better to be in the moment than ruin it with breaking out the Awkward Machine (this is what I call my camera).

Luke and I talked and hung out in his basement with his friend. It was nice just to sit and relax with him – something I haven’t done for longer than a year. I’m not sure what time we passed out, but I woke up sometime around 11AM. We grabbed some bagels (yummm Jersey bagels), and hung out a bit more before he drove to the Highway ramp with me following behind. Quite considerate.

I drove into NOWHERE (AKA Lewis Run, PA) around 6PM. Anni’s mom greeted me with dinner and chocolate birthday cake. Yes, Happy Birthday to me!   Anni and I had a blast exchanging gifts (I had lugged presents from Rachel over there as well) and doing some catching up.

Puffiness

We spent most of the night out at the bars dancing our butts off.  A very forthcoming gentlemen informed us, as the bar closed, that he respected “what we had,” and thought it was, “really beautiful.” He had assumed Anni and I were a couple no doubt, most likely because we weren’t dancing in our respective personal spaces. That might be putting it mildly

After the bar fun, we went to get food. In our drunken stupor we got pizza (Anni is vegan mind you, and I ordered pepperoni eventhough I don’t eat red meat), and Anni snagged some Texas Toast.  We unfortunately woke her Mother up upon our return. I’m surprised we didn’t wake the neighbors up as well. Again, to bed around 4AM and to rise around 12PM. We ate our purchased Texas Toast, sat around with her cat, Sam, and then it was time for me to depart.

All said and done, it was a great trip. Seeing these people specifically gives me a dose of happiness that I don’t get very often. They all know me better, love me, and except me more than almost any other group of friends. It was a great way to start off my New Year – with uniqueness and joy beyond compare.