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Now, dear reader, we've spoken of faith before: What is Faith?, Things That Make You Go Hmm..., Knowing is Half the Battle, A Proof of Faith, If You Don't Believe in Flying Pigs, and Creationism, Faith, and Proof, just to name a few!
But one of the recurring things that come up in any discussion with a rabid fundamentalist is something along the lines of, "I don't care what science says, I have faith in god and that settles it!" or "I don't care what you say or what the evidence is, god said it, I believe it, and that settles it!" You get the gist: Despite evidence and reason to the contrary, if they can think of a verse that "contradicts" the evidence (as if man's written word from 2000+ years ago could be considered "relevant" and "up-to-date" when it comes to man's wealth of knowledge), it must be the bible that is true (as it does claim to be the truly inspired word of god [actually, that statement refers only to the first five books of the OT, but most fundies overlook that bit of literalism...] and how could we argue with such circularity?).
But what about this verse?
Hebrews 11:1 Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.
Take a moment, digest it, think about where I might be going...
Let's highlight the most important portion there: faith is [...] the evidence of things not seen. One of the more wonderful and intelligent Christians I know put it this way: "[I]t should not be taken as justification for claiming what we see doesn't exist." He goes on to reiterate, "it may make room for Christians to affirm an afterlife, for instance, but it doesn't justify denying evolution."
To rephrase, faith is a wonderful thing for people to have (in fact, as stated in older posts, we utilize faith on a daily basis!) as long as that faith is based on something reasonable, logical, and based on experience and knowledge! The problem with fundamentalist faith, with baseless faith, is clearly seen in such silly arguments as "God said it, I believe it, and that settles it!" In fact, such a statement settles nothing at all and flies in the face of all things based on reality as we know it, not to mention it even seems to fly a little bit in the face of Paul (but that's another argument altogether...).
As our growing body of knowledge increases exponentially every day with breakthroughs in medicine and technology in science labs across the planet, one would certainly not be remiss in pointing out that the amount of things "unseen" gets relatively smaller and smaller (although our understanding of the laws of physics continues to add more and more questions which we then set about trying to answer as well), so it is no surprise that the God of All Things in Times Past has become the God of Small Things in Times Present (and the foreseeable future!)...
Of course, the most jolting thing at the beginning of this century has been the rise of not only radical fundamentalism in Islamic circles, but the rise of ideological fundamentalism here in the land with brought light to the enlightened! ("G.E.: We Bring Good Things to Light!!") When our last president fully embraced the ignorance of his religion (exclaiming that "creationism" should be taught alongside the laws of evolution, for instance), people's whose brains had much better things to do suddenly had to put on the brakes and figure out who misplaced the Enlightenment, and once found, how to bring it back to the masses so that humanity could continue its course on finding The Answer. That it happened at all in this day and age is a bit embarrassing--after all, who expected humanity to suddenly prefer religious ignorance to the sound logic, realistic knowledge of the new century? (The enlightened certainly didn't!)
Regardless of whether or not this resurgent fundamentalism is a backlash against globalization or simply a matter of poor educational institutions putting up with too much riff raff, the question remains: How does society go about bringing everyone back up to speed on the current body of knowledge, and then keep them there? It may be all well and good to claim an afterlife--but what is the underlying motive behind preaching a seven-day creationism? In what way do such arguments hinder or help humanity? Even Paul, a favorite among evangelicals everywhere, preached that the only thing one needed to believe was that Jesus was the son of god, and that he had died and risen again--where does a belief in the seven-day creation period have anything to do with that message? And for that matter, what does being "pro-life" or "pro-choice" have to do with that? Never mind that the evangelical movement has lost its "mission from god" in a dramatic and dangerous fashion (one only need look at the recent murder of late-term abortion provider Dr. Tiller to see the consequences of unchecked radical fundamentalism), but it seems to me they've lost their sense of decency. After all, in what way could all this mobilized effort against health care reform and "protecting the unborn" be used more productively than in providing care for the widows and orphans, as was one of Jesus' main concerns? What would happen if Focus on the Family and the American Family Association, instead of trying to prevent gay marriage, used all that time, money, and propaganda to instead feed the homeless? Provide prescriptions for the elderly? Shelter the orphans?
It doesn't take a Christian to see where fundamentalist Christians have it all wrong, and in more ways than just the false science of creationism... They've become the followers of the God of Small Details That Ultimately Mean Nothing, something considerably worse than just being the followers of the God of Small Things... It may only take baseless, unseen faith to become a Christian, but it takes a special kind of on-purpose blindness to be a fundamentalist evangelical Christian... I am glad that I do know so many good people, Christians and non-Christians, who do take the time to say a kind word to a stranger, who hand the homeless guy a fiver, who offer the stranger a jacket or sweatshirt... These are the people who Get It, who realize that our common humanity is much more than ignoring the seen things. Indeed, these are the people who seek out the unseen in the hopes of making things better for all!
Faith is NOT a good reason for blindness to the human condition, and more often than not it is used as an excuse. Today's fundamentalists in religious circles (Islamic, Christian, Jewish, what-have-you) is nothing more than well-disguised political movement using god as a weapon and faith as a bludgeon against anything remotely "unbiblically based," even when (and sometimes seemingly especially when) the matters being discussed have no bearing whatsoever in the religious spheres and circles... I think that, if we are to drag humanity back past the Enlightenment (with probably a lot of the kicking and screaming we're experiencing today), we must once again focus on the basics of what it means to be a decent human being...
And have a little faith in one another... Not in the unseen sky daddies of the past...
When we purchased our humble home here in the southern-most Pocono mountains, I moved with me 54 boxes of books. Fiction, biography, science, science-fiction, history, social sciences... You name it, I have a book on the topic. While there was much grumbling as box after box was first loaded--and then unloaded--most of it was overlooked. After all, it was a short walk to the truck, a relatively short drive in the truck, and then into the new home--all from both first floors... I was ecstatic and dreamed of walls upon walls of bookcases, filled with the colorful covers, both hardcover and soft, of my beloved books...
As I sat here tonight, opening box after box of the books that never quite made it onto a shelf anywhere, I was elated as I perused some of my titles that I hadn't realized I had missed...
Of course, I'm going through them with the sole purpose of whittling this stack of 54 boxes to about five or six... That is, if I can convince Richard that these are must-have titles.
Don't get me wrong--he isn't twisting my arm. In fact, he has yet to bring them up himself! But I have to be realistic--most of what we have will not make the cut of much-loved or much-needed for a move to the bottom of the East Coast. Let's face it, no one in their right mind would take a completely filled U-haul 2,000 miles when they know they might not have a house that first week, never mind that much of it may not fit into the new home, depending on what we find or what we can afford! But there I sat for hours, carefully pulling out title after title, flipping through each one, remembering the joy I found between it's covers...
The Hobbit, The Color of Water, An American Gardner, Kinds of Minds... Book after book lovingly cared for with little to no cover damage, spine wear, page tearing... Sure, there are a few that you can tell have been read more than twenty to thirty times, but most of them I read with trembling hands, careful not to break the spine, keeping the dust jacket on the shelf until the book was read cover to cover, book markers used meticulously to prevent page damage or crinkles... (One might think I'm a bit anal...!)
So when Rich came home this evening to find me surrounded by boxes upon boxes of books... Well...
Rich: What are you doing?
Me: Searching for buried treasure--what does it look like I'm doing? Cleaning out my ears?
Rich: (rueful smile) You don't have to... You know...
Me: I know, but... Honestly, I'm not sure I even feel like moving this many books, much as I love them...
Rich: What about...? (he jerks a thumb behind him toward my desk...)
Me: What about it?
Rich: You know that's not going, don't you?
Me: But... It was my dads! It's a great desk!
Rich: It's also huge!
Me: It's not that big... (Okay, okay, it is that big--almost 6 feet long by almost three feet deep and all metal... but...)
Rich: We could get a pretty penny for it at the scrap yard.
Me: To begin with, if we don't take it, it will first be offered to my siblings and my dad--
Rich: He won't want that monstrosity back!
Me: --and secondly, what if I can't bear to part with it? You can't leave it behind then!
Rich: Wanna bet?
Me: You know, I'm beginning to think this whole move to Florida is solely motivated by your loathing for my desk...
Rich: Not solely...
Me: Oh, no?
Rich: It's really just kind of like icing...
Me: Is that so?
Rich: A bonus, if you will...
Me: If I have to get rid of that desk, I'm keeping more of these books than I originally thought...
Rich: What?
Me: Think of it as a bonus of sorts... Like icing...
Rich: (smiling) I like icing! Speaking of, want some ice cream?
Me: What the hell--(casually tossing Search for the Cradle on top of the box I just removed it from)--I deserve a break.
Rich: Consider it a bonus for all your work...
The culling has begun, ladies and gentlemen... But when all is said and done, and I move my eight or nine boxes of books to the Sunshine State, it will be like icing all over again...
And this time, there will be shelves... And the books, the icing...
Blanche: Why, Rose, that cake's in the shape of--
Dorothy: We know what it is, Blanche...
Rose: I thought it was in the shape of Florida!
It seems we've begun telling people now... Thank god! There's nothing I hate more than being censored...
Well, perhaps we haven't told you in person, yet, dear reader, but if you have my number, feel free to call me and we'll discuss it, but first, as I hate despise loathe talking on the phone, first hear me out here--can you do that for me?
In one year, we will be selling our home and moving to Florida. Yes, Florida, the state shaped like... Well, you know...
But that's not why we're moving there--that's just icing... :)
You see, for some strange reason, the brother's Rich and Mike (husband and brother-in-law respectively) harbor not-so-secret passionate desires to live in the Sunshine State--I don't get it, but that's beside the point. For as long as I've known Rich, he's always not only desired, but passionately advocated for Florida as a possible living destination.
If you know me, you know one thing for certain--I am not a beach person. I am, however, a person who loves life, and after about a month of debate and the plop of seven new green things landing on my desk with the cursory, "These are for next week..." Well, as I stared at the half of my desk that is shaped a lot like Florida and the large pile of papers that had just been deposited, I realized that at-home persuasion wasn't necessarily needed any more...
Change was needed...
When I heard that Plop! on the fake wood laminate of my humble office, it was as if the weight of the decision just up and left. Does that mean in still won't be hard? Of course not. I'll be leaving behind all of my siblings, my parents, the nieces and nephs, and friends whom I love just as dearly as the blood coursing through my family's veins... But although I love my family and friends so dearly...
And it may sound harsh, my dear reader, but please don't think less of me for saying what so many others think...
There's more to life than living near your family... (Well, there'll be no taking that back once I hit "publish"...)
There is an entire Earth here waiting to be experienced! To be looked at, enjoyed, explored...! A whole planet! And I've barely seen most of the east side of Pennsylvania! Sure, there was that two-year stint in West Virginia... Not that it counts too much, it was for bible college after all... With my few years in the military, I got a dash of Missouri ("Misery" is more like it!), a touch of Jersey, and a smattering of Texas... A whiff of Ohio, Michigan, and North Carolina also blipped on the radar a handful of times, but they were really more drive-bys, you know?
Rich's reasons are totally different, mind you. He's always fancied himself a beach bunny, wanting to get a nice even tan, wearing ugly Hawaiian shirts, large Jackie-O type sunglasses--not that he does those things now, mind you, but one can just sort of glimpse at Ms. Cleo's crystal ball and get a rough idea of the fashion faux pas I might be in for... I'm hoping with me by his side, we might just avoid the worst of it...
Well, I did say "Might"...
Of course, the first few days of thinking this over, I was quite a nervous wreck, but then it all started coming into focus, and now I'm feeling just the slightest bit Zen about the whole thing. Figuring out new ways to garden... Never shoveling snow again, or wrestling with the coal stove, Disney at my back door, hardly a day all year that goes below 65 degrees, and--well, this is the real happy thought of the moment--I, Mr. Jason Hughes, born January 14, in 19__ can have a fucking POOL PARTY in the MIDDLE of FUCKING WINTER!!!!
Now, don't misunderstand, dear reader--nothing is set in stone. After all, who knows what the future holds! ("Call me now, Ms. Cleo!!") But the ball has started rolling. A list has been drawn up of all the things that need fixed before selling this place. A long list of web sites have been saved, neighborhood searches are being done, realtor.com has been visited more than once...
And let's not forget, there's the shape of the state to consider...
There's something invigorating about this decision: a new place to live, new neighborhoods to explore, new foods to try, new cultures and subcultures to learn about... I almost feel like I did before I left for basic training... Nervous, excited, scared, giddy... I was the first one to move out of our home growing up... The first one to go to another state for college. The first one to move north of Pottstown... (The real kicker is I'm not even the oldest!) But I've never really been too afraid to try new things and new places--just scared enough (which I think is a bit healthy) to be cautious (hence the flurry of web searching going on) but excited enough to not over-think it too long...
I think...
As I said, nothing is set in stone... But wheels are moving, gears are grinding...
We're going to be moving to Florida... Not that I'm telling work that yet--after all, until things are set in stone, there's really no need to rock the boat (hint, hint, fellow co-workers who venture over here now and then...)
But until then, I get to stare at that half of my desk shaped like...
Mom: I just heard from your Uncle Kip...
Me: Oh yeah? About what?
Mom: Well, you know where he lives, right? And that he flies a rebel flag off his front porch?
Me: That's news?
Mom: It is! Someone wrote in a letter to the editor... Apparently they think Kip is against Obama or something...
Me: (Laughter) Well, he is a racist at heart and in mouth, so...
Mom: I know! I mean, I fly it just because I like how it looks--I always like to think of myself as a rebel! But your uncle... Oh my...
Me: Wait, wait, wait... Kip reads the paper?
Mom: I think someone must have told him about it...
What is it about flags, dear reader? What is it we say, with bits of cloth strung together in a colorful pattern? These bits of cloth evoke feelings of pride, rage, anger, love, patriotism, hatred...
Funny how little bits of cloth can sway our hearts and minds so, isn't it?
I've recently redecorated my car with a pride sticker after years of letting Betsy travel naked on America's highways and biways. You see, dear reader, once upon a time, my kid brother Mike was in a strange place in his life (when aren't each of us in that strange place, yeah?) and borrowed my car for a little while...
It came back sans pride sticker. Not that I blamed him--it's not like you could expect to see me running around in a car with an "I ♥ Jesus," right? Perish the thought! But I stood back in satisfaction as I surveyed my once naked Betsy now all aglow with her new rainbow strip across the back, just under the word MUSTANG. It's a beautiful thing...
This is where my older brother Tom would declare something along the lines of, "How come I don't have a straight pride flag? I want a straight pride day!" Never minding the fact that any time, on any day, at any given moment, straight pride is in every peck on your significant others' cheek, when you file taxes jointly, when someone comments on your ring (or tan line where the ring belongs!), the dominant culture is always a bit jealous of the many minority cultures it must "put up with" (or eradicate) when they make themselves known as unashamed of being not-so-mainstream.
Perhaps it's the rebel in all of us? Always wanting to feel unique, special, and different? To make ourselves stand out from all the other riff-raff we find ourselves surrounded by? A reminder to the rest of the world that we are all aren't the same, that there are those who live in your neighborhood, shop at your grocery store, work in your building, and pay their taxes just like you do, but have a slightly different perspective than you about all of it...
We went camping this past weekend, as you might know based on the last post to grace this blogs top spot (Helllooooooo hotties!) to a "gay men only" campground. Of course, being the prude's that we are, we made a solemn promise to ourselves that if it was in any way sleazy, we were going to leave. What we found out, however, that while there were a few there solely for a sleazy time, there were many more there just for the love of camping in a safe environment (and yes, there are many unsafe camping environments for homosexuals, FYI...). But the truly awesome thing? It was like Christmas! The lights, tiki torches, flags from every nationality, candles, decorated tents, decorated campers--it was insane! But each site was unique, and each camper took great pride in the way they made their camp area special. But even though each site was unique and special in it's own way, there was one thing that had brought us all together... Okay, well, two things: Love of Camping, and Love of Men... And as we started talking to some of these thousands of men, we found out, of course, that we had much more in common than that--our love of life, first and foremost.
And, of course, we all know (or should know) that nine times out of ten (that last dentist wouldn't take the bribe to recommend that particular brand of fluoride...) what we have in common is much more numerous than that which separates us, no matter where we are on this earth. No matter who we are, where we come from, who we sleep with, or who we don't sleep with, we are all humans just trying to find the best way to live our lives in this world...
Which, in my opinion, is all the more reason to celebrate... So find and fly your flag, my fellow human being, and be proud of who you are and what you stand for--even if I disagree with the sentiment, it's hard to hate when we're open and discussing what we believe and why... Even if it is a flag of a different color... :)
Oh, and that second pic? That was our camp site--the most under-colored, under-lit site in the whole place... Granted, it was right there by the stream, under the pines, truly beautiful... But we've already been to Walmart to start spicing it up the next time we set up camp...
Beaux is healthy now. Infection is gone, his white blood cell count is down, and he's attacking even the invisible things I didn't know I had laying all over my house, not to mention the dog, my feet, the curtains, the bookcase... Hawthorne also had his check-up today, and Hawthorne is also healthy as a horse. Always has been, hopefully always will be.
But there's nothing like a trip to the vet with your healthy pets to make you feel like you are the single-most horrible owner on the face of this green earth. I usually get to see Dr. Mike, but apparently he's on vacation--I got his "understudy," a young lady with the bedside manner of Mr. Scrooge before he started seeing ghosts...
Case in point is a discussion about Hawthorne's "junk":
Vet: Have you ever considered getting him fixed?
Me: What? He's nine years old! Why would I do that to him now?
Vet: I've personally already seen three cases this week of dog's with prostate problems...
Me: ... And?
Vet: And they could have been avoided if they had simply gotten their dogs fixed.
Me: Yeah, well, he's nine. He's healthy. He does not at this point have prostate problems, and if he had problems, then we would consider our options.
Vet: Hmm...
"Hmm" all you want there, but I am not spending money to take away something that's not an issue. I'm all about preventative care, don't get me wrong. And if I would have had the dough back when I got Hawthorne, he may have gotten fixed then (of course, the guilt trip back then was not about his prostate, it was about the potential for more puppies in this lonely, cruel world... but I digress...), but he didn't. He's not a humper. When he does get the opportunity to see a female dog, all he does is lick her face anyway (talk about your lack of a sex drive!), and you think now I should take them away? Should I have my balls removed just in case I have prostate problems in the future?
And then there was this doozy:
Vet: He has some plaque build up, you see?
Me: (I peer at the tooth in question) Hmm...
Vet: He should really be scheduled for a prothy.
Me: A what?
Vet: A good dental cleaning.
Me: Oh, he's fine. They don't hurt him, see? (I knock on his tooth)
Vet: Yes, but in time that plaque could leave him with quite the sore tooth.
Me: I have a toothbrush for him. I'll just make sure to hit those back teeth a little better.
Vet: That's not going to cut it, sir.
Me: And why not, ma'am. (Yes, I'm copping an attitude. I want to see Dr. Mike, not this sanctimonious snoot...)
Vet: Because he needs a good cleaning.
Me: And how much does a "good cleaning" cost?
Vet: Only around $500.
Me: Are you nuts?! I don't even spend $20 go to a dentist, and you want me to pop $500 so he can have "pearly whites"? I don't think so.
Vet: Well, we put him down with anesthetic, and keep in mind some of those teeth may need pulled due to cavities, there's the IV to keep him hydrated while he's under--
Me: No. Absolutely not. I'm sorry, and you can think I'm a terrible owner all you want, but there's no way in hell my healthy playful active nine-year-old dog is "going under" for any reason other than life-saving surgery--and maybe not even then depending on the scenario. Am I clear?
Vet: Sir, why do you even have the dog if you don't feel you need to take proper care of him? (Yes, she is now getting snooty with me...)
Me: He gets fed, he gets love, he gets played with, he gets a bed, three balls, an acre to call his own play ground, he barks when strangers arrive, and is great with nieces and nephews. He's nine years old and, except for that brief moment in time when he was stolen from my yard while I lived in Allentown and was missing for a week and I had to spend close to $3,000 to save his life due to some cruel and negligent morons, I am an excellent owner to this dog, just as I will be an excellent owner to this cat. All I need you to do is give him his rabies shot, his heart worm shot, worry less about his balls and more about his general health, okay? Dr. Mike has never once implied anything of this nature and I resent you doing so.
Vet: ... Nurse, make sure he gets to see Dr. Mike next time, alright?
Nurse: Yes, Doctor.
Me: Thank you.
Vet: Thank you.
Bitch.
Granted, I copped attitude first, but that's neither here nor there.
Needless to say, I will not be seeing this vet again... I made the receptionist put it in Beaux's and Hawthorne's charts that they only ever get scheduled for Dr. Mike in the future, just in case... Not that I begrudge him time off, you see. Just his newest trainee...
As I was preparing tonight's post, dear reader, I got the news in a CNN breaking news email, "Michael Jackson has died."
Rest in Peace, King of Pop. You certainly had little enough in life...
You were an under-appreciated legend in your time.
Everyone's taking control of me,
Seems that the world's got a role for me,
I'm so confused,
Will you show to me
You'll be there for me?
And care enough to bear me?
You weren't perfect--who is? Half the things you were accused of we knew to be false, yet the media hung you out to dry anyway...
Like a comet
Blazing 'cross the evening sky,
Gone too soon...
Your music will live on, and it will leave the world a better place. Thanks for the memories, Michael, and here's hoping you are now at peace.
On a slightly lighter note, how bad must our health care system be if we can't even keep our celebrities alive? Ed McMahon, Farah Fawcett, and MJ all in one week...?
Brings new meaning to "bad things happen in three's," doesn't it?
Those of you who know us personally know one thing for certain: Our relationship started with kittens. Five kittens to be exact. After three months of eye-tag and smiles, I turned to Richard one night, looking devilishly cut and ripped in a neon-orange tank-top with khaki shorts, and said, "Would you like to come home and see my kittens?" (I later find out he could have cared less about the kittens, but if I'm completely honest with myself, at that moment, I also could have cared less...)
Along the way, Spot, Pavement, and Cleopatra all bit the dust in various ways and we remained catless until just about a week ago, when we adopted a "female" kitten named Beaux. True to form (as Spot came into my life under the very same false pretenses...), at the vet they ask, "Where's the girl kitten, Beaux?" I gestured toward the kitten being held in the arms of the nurse and said, "You mean Beaux isn't as girl?"
So Beaux is a boy. Irregardless, the reason for the sudden impromptu trip to the vet was the fact that Beaux, playing with her--his toy mouse suddenly went stiff, tipped over, vomited, and then lay lifeless. While purring. My first thought was, "Holy shit! I have a narcoleptic cat!" Then other bad signs happened. Wouldn't wake up, but continued to vomit. Spasms. More vomiting. I'm sobbing, beside myself. A kitten I've had for less than a week was suddenly dying before my eyes! A few quick calls and some google searches had me at the door of the vet's, tears streaming down my face with a kitten who suddenly changed sexes...
He has an infection somewhere in his bowels, and another day and he could have ended up a brain-damaged to dead kitty. Sigh. Of course, my third heart-attack happened when I got the emergency bill! A kitten I've had less than a week has already cost me nearly $400!
But as I watch him playing now, fighting with Hawthorne over the newest "life-like" mouse toy, I know it was worth it. Beaux is already so ingrained in Hawthorne's--and our--lives, I already have a hard time imagining how I wasn't looking where I was stepping before he arrived. I've realized how much I've missed the sound of a soft purr just over my shoulder. The pitter-patter of wobbly paws racing out from behind the corner as I walked by to attack my feet.
So our Saturday evening plans to celebrate our tenth anniversary were axed due to the extraordinary vet bill we weren't expecting...
But really, it all just makes sense. Full circle and all that. What started with kittens continues with kittens, and as we sat there Saturday evening watching a film, Hawthorne between us and Beaux taking flying leaps over his body to take turns on our laps, it all just seemed wonderfully perfect.
Or perhaps puur-fect would be more appropriate. Of course, it would take my gay relationship to be built on pussy, wouldn't it? Of course, even my pussy lacks a pussy...
Simply, wonderfully purr-fect...
I was recently told in a business exchange on eBay:
Now I know why God is directing me to pray for you!!!
How does that work exactly? How does a simple eBay transaction turn into a calling from god? Well, it's a matter of highlighting text and deleting the wrong portion--i.e., instead of deleting my auto signature (which directs you here) I deleted the text response to the query in question...
Now, don't get me wrong--the customer in question is a decent enough fellow, but this whole "god wants me to pray for you thing"--umm, isn't it god you'll be praying to? About me?
So if god already knows I need "help," as it were (if one is to assume that atheism is something in need of help), why would god want you to tell him that you now know I need help?
I'm reminded of this comic from Russel's Teapot:
Good stuff, that Russell. I do wish he were still blogging, but you really should go check out his stuff--too funny! (Clicking on pic will open it in a larger window... for those of you not reading this blog on a cell phone, dearest younger brother!)
So I guess the only thing left is to wait... :)
It's amazing to me what people will believe...
I want to kill people. I want to strangle their necks. Of course, how is this different from every day life? It's not so much, really. But when it's been 24 hours since your last cigarette...
Well, you're just more likely to kill them, that's all...
Beaux is the reason, just so you are caught up, dear reader. The price of Beaux is the cessation of cigarettes in my life. While the trade off IS a good thing, and while it WAS my idea...
Well, sometimes I don't think these things through...
Who is Beaux? Technically, her name is "Face of Beaux," named after the "Face of Boe" from Dr. Who, the FANTASTIC television series! Of course, the real face of Boe and our face of Beaux look nothing alike. After all, who would want a kitty that was just a head floating in a glass canister of smoke? Okay, well, maybe you would, but I certainly don't.
Oh, how rude of me... This is Beaux:
This is the Boe she was named after:
I'm just glad Beaux ended up being cuter than Boe!! Who needs an ugly cat?
Regardless, people need to die... I need a cigarette...
What the worst part is, I know I will not die from wanting a cigarette. No one has ever died from wanting a cigarette. Gone mad, perhaps, a bit nutsy, but died? It's the smoking that'll kill me!! And as the one half of my brain tries to explain this to the other half of my brain... Well, it's not pretty what's going on between my ears... A very nasty, very ugly fight is going on...
I've already won... Now it's just a matter of convincing my brain that we're not doing this anymore...
Sigh. Stupid habit. Even stupider for my brain thinking it needs it so...
Now, dear reader, we've spoken of faith before: What is Faith?, Things That Make You Go Hmm..., Knowing is Half the Battle, A Proof of Faith, If You Don't Believe in Flying Pigs, and Creationism, Faith, and Proof, just to name a few!
