My Life Without Cigarettes – Day 16

So far, so good.

That simplifies it quite a bit, of course.  For the first week, I was really testy and irritable, especially at work.  The driver I manage kept thinking he was doing something wrong, for example, and when I got around to telling everyone I was quitting smoking, they all said a variation on, “Oh, that makes sense.”  And here I thought I was doing a good job of hiding it (ie, the irritability).

The first week was the worst, though.  I was popping nicotine lozenges pretty regularly, and besides the irritability I was just generally twitchy.  Like, bouncing up and down in my seat, juggling pens, itching my face, darting my eyes… classic withdrawal behaviors I suppose.  I didn’t expect it to be that bad – or that physically apparent.  It’s an indication of how important nicotine had actually become to my system, I guess.  Who knew?

The withdrawal symptoms and the cravings have significantly decreased this week.  Although they’re not completely gone: I was moving this past weekend, and I found a cigarette pack in an old suit.  Without really thinking about it, I tore it open, desperate to find something inside.  When I found it empty, I calmed down, but had there been a cigarette (or a butt, or a few leaves of dry old tobacco), I would have sucked it right down.

Also, the few West Philly porch parties I’ve been to have been hard.  Porches and smoking go together like Twitter and naked congressmen, especially on Buckingham, and there’s no getting away from it unless you leave the party.  Luckily, I was prepared with one of the best ideas from my quit-smoking class – a small pack of bubbles.  Yep, bubbles – the little soapy things one blows from a wand.  Turns out, the actions of bubble blowing mimics almost exactly the actions of smoking a cigarette: taking the little pack out of the pocket, pulling a three-inch-long tube out, bringing it up to the mouth, exhaling…  And bubbles floating through the air go over a lot better on a crowded porch than smoke.  The porch-smoking craving passed, and everyone got a kick out of the bubbles.

Other positives:  I’m breathing clearer, I have more energy, I need about an hour less of sleep a night.  And lately I’ve been coughing and sneezing a lot, and waking up in the morning with snot and other gunk in my nose and throat.  This may not sound like a positive, but it means that my body is starting to heal itself, and clean itself out.  And I’m going to help it do that as much as I can – for example, Wednesday I take my first yoga class!  That might be a separate blog topic though…

My Life Without Cigarettes – Day 1

I’ve been attending a free quitting-smoking class, courtesy of the City of Philadelphia, and in addition to providing tips, advice, group support, and nicotine replacement meds, participants in the class pick their own day to quit.  Well, today is my day.  I’ve weaned myself from half a pack a day at my peak down to this, day one without cigs.  And the first few hours have gone quite well.

I learned in the class that, when one has one’s first couple of cigarettes, the brain’s panic centers are triggered.  This makes a lot of sense – after all, one’s lungs are filling with smoke.  But after the first few cigarettes, the nicotine actually flips that panic response around somehow.  So instead of the initial panic of smoke in my lungs, I now have a panic when I’m not filling my lungs with smoke.  This is what I can expect today, apparently.

Given time, the response will flip around again, back to normal – but this will take a while.  In the meantime, I’m gong to have panicky cravings, headaches, shaky hands, and I might be just plain grumpy and cranky too.  This could be a pretty miserable next couple of weeks.

It’ll be worth it though.  I’ve been smoking for about six years, while most of the other folks in the class are 30 years or so deep into cigarettes.  Hearing their stories is a good motivation to quit, but seeing their health problems is even more powerful.  I couldn’t say this in the class, but I don’t want to be 50 years old and unable to walk across a room without losing my breath, or 60 years old and having cancer surgery.  Just hearing the coughing and hacking around me every Tuesday evening is enough (I hope) to keep me focused on quitting.

So, armed with my lists of tips, and my mint-flavored nicotine lozenges, I’m setting off to face the first day of the rest of my life.  Wish me luck, Internet.  And don’t offer me a cigarette.

Smoke Free Philly

Profundity from the Seat of World Power

“I think we are building up to a place over the next couple of months where we are going to do something.” – Senator Bob Corker, (R) Tennessee

“We’re going to have to come up with something that makes sense.” – Senator Harry Reid, (D) Nevada

I don’t know what else to say, except to any first-graders out there who are thinking about running for Senator:  Wait a couple years.  You’re not quite ready.

(Quoted in the New York Times)

Punk Rock and the Civil War

“-At what point shall we expect the approach of danger? By what means shall we fortify against it?– Shall we expect some transatlantic military giant, to step the Ocean, and crush us at a blow? Never!–All the armies of Europe, Asia and Africa combined, with all the treasure of the earth (our own excepted) in their military chest; with a Buonaparte for a commander, could not by force, take a drink from the Ohio, or make a track on the Blue Ridge, in a trial of a thousand years.  At what point then is the approach of danger to be expected? I answer, if it ever reach us, it must spring up amongst us. It cannot come from abroad. If destruction be our lot, we must ourselves be its author and finisher. As a nation of freemen, we must live through all time, or die by suicide.”

This is a quote from a speech Abraham Lincoln gave in 1838.  Twenty-three years later, on April 12, 1861, one hundred fifty years ago today, the Civil War began when Confederate soldiers fired on Fort Sumter in Charleston, South Carolina.  This quote from Lincoln has been on my mind a lot lately – I think it’s a sobering, timely reminder for what’s happening with our current politics.  But I didn’t pull this quote out of some political weblog or a great archive of Lincoln studies:  I know it because I’m listening to punk rock.

“From whence shall we expect the approach of danger? Shall some transatlantic giant step the earth and crush us at a blow? Never! All the armies of Europe and Asia could not, by force, take a drink from the Ohio River or set a track on the Blue Ridge in the trial of a thousand years. If destruction be our lot, we ourselves must be its author and finisher. As a nation of free men, we will live forever, or die by suicide.”

Lincoln is thusly paraphrased at the beginning of Titus Andronicus’s The Monitor, a punk concept album about the Civil War.  Well, loosely about the Civil War.  Very loosely.  As soon as the Lincoln voice-over finishes, the guitar and drums  and raw vocals come crashing in,  beginning the story the album is really about – a pissed off New Jersey kid who can’t quite, and doesn’t quite want to, escape the self-destructive forces in his life.

On first reading, this might seem ridiculous.  But the record is really really good.  Titus Andronicus are some tight, skillful musicians, especially for a punk band, and the album flows, rocks, screams, grates, and explodes with the best of them.

Not only that, but the concept works.  You may be thinking, who do these kids think they are, appropriating imagery from the Civil War to release post-adolescent futility and angst?  Yes, it’s a cynical idea, but the album is cynical.  This character, or these characters, are reveling in their self-destruction even as they struggle to overcome it, drinking and smoking and speeding their way headlong into a desperate search to find some meaning in it all.  The band finds their metaphor, and finds it well, because cynical or not, the themes of young 21st century American twentysomethings struggling to overcome their upbringing and forge their own path, and a post-adolescent nation struggling towards its ideals in spite of its history, line up almost eerily well.

The album settles for its final image on the battle between the USS Monitor and the Confederate ship Virginia.  The two ships, the first iron-clad vessels to engage each other, fought the Battle of Hampton Roads, which is also the title of the last track.  They pounded each other for four hours but ultimately reached a stalemate for which both sides claimed victory, and that’s exactly how the story of Titus Andronicus’s The Monitor finishes too. The album takes us through a lot of mess and mayhem, and at the end there’s no clear resolution, just an assessment of damage done and a resolve to continue the struggle. And what better can America aspire to than that?

PoMo Comics I’d Like To See

One of my favorite things about the Internet is the proclivity of postmodern takes on classic and/or popular comic strips.  Garfield Minus Garfield is one of the funniest concepts ever, for example – Garfield the character is removed from Garfield the strip, leaving the ever-hapless Jon Arbuckle to wallow alone is his suburban ennui.  I also love the Nietzsche Family Circus, in which the captions to the saccharinely inane one-panel cartoon are replaced by randomly generated Friedrich Nietzsche quotes.  And just now I’ve been introduced to 3eanuts – Peanuts comic strips with the punch-line last panel removed, leaving 3 panels of despair.

These got me thinking – how else would I like to see the funnies remixed?  I don’t have the graphic design skills (or, more importantly, the software [or, let's be honest, the motivation]) to make them myself, but if anyone ended out creating any of these, they would win a Golden J, which is an award I just made up:

• “Smutts” – Besides “Fred Bassett”, “Mutts” may be the least funny, most boring comic ever created.  Why not spice it up by giving the characters lines from seedy romance novels and/or adult personal ads?
• “The Fresh Prince Valiant” – Prince Valiant’s adventures lead him straight into the West Philly projects.  Here the comic may or may not keep up its serious, epic tone by delving into the problems facing the urban poor in contemporary America, and there may or may not be a guest appearance from “Curtis”.
• “Dilbert Christ” – Dilbert’s lines are substituted with the teachings of Jesus.  It might work.
• “The Gay Lockhorns” – The bickering, wry one-liners that this husband-and-wife stereotype trade back and forth would take on a whole new meaning if, say, Loretta was replaced by a duplicate Leroy.  It could examine gender roles and assumptions in modern America, and there may or may not be a guest appearance from “Curtis”.
• “Marmaduke Minus Marmaduke” – I fucking hate Marmaduke.  Get him out of there.

OK, Photoshoppers, let’s see what you’ve got!

Garfield Minus Garfield

The Nietzsche Family Circus

3eanuts

Opening Day

Here in Philadelphia, we’ve been caught in a purgatorial pre-spring ever since that damn groundhog to the west got our hopes up about an early end to winter.  There was that weekend a few weeks back, where our jackets came off and stayed off into the evenings, but after it was over I almost wished we’d never had it.  It seemed a taunt: the lamb of March that’s supposed to lead us either into our out of the month maybe got a little drunk and surly around St. Patty’s Day, stumbled around in public a bit, and then disappeared out of spite.  The pending baseball season has been pulling me through these freezing lion temperatures he’s left us with, because you know spring is here when the Boys of Summer take the field for the first time.

So when I heard snow in the forecast for today, and then woke up to snow in the air, it was a blow.  To have the Phillies’ home opener postponed by this continuing crappy weather… well, it made me wish that Sarah Palin’s death panels had actually been created, and that we could put Old Man Winter in front of them.  Politicians across the spectrum could have come together in a spirit of unity and purpose by pulling the plug on the old curmudgeon and then heading to the nearest ballpark, making sure not to forget their sunglasses.

Throughout the morning, though, the snow changed to rain, and the rain gave way to light rain, and at the literal eleventh hour, the precipitation stopped.  I took the afternoon off and settled down to watch the Phils take the field right on schedule; the sky still cloudy and the air still cold, but above freezing and clearing.

As I type this the sixth inning is just about to begin, and it remains to be seen who will win the pitching duel between Roy “Doc” Halladay and Brett “My goatee more than adequately demonstrates the etymological history of the word ‘goatee’” Myers.  But the simple fact that they’re out there reminds me that winter can’t last.  Whether it’s ready or not, spring is here.  The boys are on the diamond, playing ball.

Happy opening day, everyone.

To Boldly Go Where Pre-Teen J. Mark Has Gone Before

I’ve recently started rewatching the complete episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation.  This show was a fixture of my childhood: every Sunday night at 7 I’d head down to the basement with a plateful of microwaved nachos to watch the latest voyage of the starship Enterprise (D), and I remember being enthralled by the stories, the spacecraft, and the universe.  So I decided to give it another go, as an adult.  So far, I’m two discs deep, and I have to say I’m really enjoying it.

I’m noticing a few things right off the bat.  First off, Deanna Troi is much less hot than I remember her in middle school, while Dr. Crusher is more so (as I’m typing this, I’m realizing the quasi-Oedipal choice of Wesley Crusher as my fourth-grade Halloween costume).  You may be reading this thinking, “What a typical guy – he goes right for the hot-or-not critiques.”  But the show itself is way more sexual than I noticed at the time.  Of the first seven episodes I’ve seen thus far, one is set on a resort planet of recreational sex, another on a planet with a free-love society, and a third’s plot centers around a virus which removes the crew’s sexual inhibitions.  For being such an advanced society, twenty-fourth century humanity are some horny buggers.

But beyond that, I notice that the show is at once more campy and more profound this time around.  Campy because of the production values, mainly:  1980s computer graphics complementing syndicated-television lighting and camera work make for a pretty distracting viewing experience.  But if one can get past that, one can see that the show is actually trying, in its fashion, to wrestle with some pretty deep subject matter.  For example, in the pilot episode, humanity is put on trial by a superior race for its savagery and brutality, and an act of compassion earns us an acquittal.  In another episode, it’s posited that space and time and thought are all facets of a higher reality, but we haven’t yet evolved to the point where we understand the interconnectedness of things.  It’s as if the show didn’t have the resources to really explore the ideas it wanted to, though.

I mean this not just in terms of production value (although trying to represent the intersection of space, time, and thought with matte paintings and moving lights leaves much to be desired): this is television where each hour wraps up in a neat little bow and, for the most part, the previous week’s adventure has nothing to do with what happens next.  This is in contrast to shows like Lost, or (a better example) the newer Battlestar: Galactica, where a plot and a cast of characters develop and grow and change over the course of an entire series.  If I remember right, Star Trek: The Next Generation does end out dabbling in this narrative television toward the end of its run.  But at the start, it’s purely episodic: we know who our characters are, and the entertainment supposedly comes not in watching them develop, but in placing them in new situations: letting Picard stay Picard, only this time he’s battling the Ferengi, or hunting a saboteur, or playing a 1930s detective.  It doesn’t seem nearly as engaging, or truthful, or complete.  But maybe I’ve just become a more sophisticated, refined viewer in the last twenty years.

No

Yes.

Well, maybe I haven’t.