Monday, October 26, 2009
Awake here without you
One departed
Thursday, October 22, 2009
water
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Alcohol (take from my myspace blog)
Alcohol consumption seemingly goes back as far as recorded history. The earliest know remnants of intentionally fermented beverage production go back to the Neolithic era (10,000 BC). It was used in ritual and religious practices as well as for enjoyment and relaxation all over the world. It is mentioned 191 times in the old and new testament alone mostly for its medicinal purposes. Because it has been so prolific throughout time I began to think what it is alcohol means to me and how much of a part in my life I want it to play.
I have been indulging in drinking now for only about four and a half years. Being that I am 28 this often seems to surprise people when I tell them. I somehow seem to have gone from one extreme all the way to the other. Finding both extremes interesting in themselves and yet wanting and preferring to find myself somewhere in the middle. To me drinking has become not only relaxing and calming but has somewhat over run my life in recent months. I love it to no end but at some point you notice things are catching up to you. And no matter how much you love something there has to be limits because even the best of things have down sides. And things are much more enjoyable in moderation. After all the first taste of anything always far exceeds in pleasure the 4th or 5th or 50th. But I can’t say I think alcohol is necessarily bad. You will never find me in AA promising to never have another drink again. Excess in anything is detrimental but in moderation almost anything can be acceptable. It really does seem to have done some positive things for me, at least from my perspective, even though that is not usually the story they want you to hear.
Its important here to admit I have always been a shy person and sometimes taken to its extreme even painfully so. Around the time I started drinking I was desperately trying to conquer my social awkwardness and fears. I think I’ve been trying for as long as I can remember but at this time I was taking it more to heart and I was constantly putting myself in social situations so I would be forced to confront and hopefully over come my unfounded shyness. Which for the age group in which I found myself usually included a bar and drinking of some sort or another. I used to sit nestled quietly in the background simply listening. Watching awkwardness and quiet turn to happiness and joking and loudness. Then to laughing then eventually to slurred words and eventually to some inevitable slip fall or other such embarrassments. I found it distasteful actually that people could drink to the point of making fools of themselves, or saying something that would not have normally been said and regretting it later, or even suddenly finding someone attractive when they never before would have given them time of day. I used to think that for these reasons alone I would never be seduced into drinking. . I didn’t want to feel out of control of my mind or body. I never wanted someone to look at me the way I was looking at them at the time. But like a wondrous affliction I always want to know as much as I can about the so-called bad as well as the good. I had to see things from my own perspective looking out through my own heavy eyes. Evan if it was only to try it and reject it. I had to make that decision with full knowledge from both sides of the bottle.
When I began drinking is was like an express escape from my omnipresent anxiety. I began to see the seductiveness of it all. The calming effects of a drink or two in a given social situation. It was like a socially acceptable antidepressant or anti anxiety pill crushed up and passed around so that we could all happily do it together. That first sip entered like the deep harsh kiss from a lovers lips. The cool liquid entered quickly escaping into a slow hot burn that followed down my throat and to the center of my body. A single drink and already the world had become softer and calmer. I was quite literally dulled to my ever-present surroundings. Like the volume had been turned down…or not that it had been turned down really but just that suddenly I didn’t care about how loud it was or even notice it really. I was self medicating. Instead of mustering tears for a doctor's scribbles and a few pills I thought this time I had it all figured out…finally.
For me it has always made the world seem more comfortable. Makes the most mundane of tasks seem more interesting. Ill be it a bit unsteady. In that beginning I used to feel comfort in just a few drinks spread out through an evening and would let the lull of the alcohol drift and settle me into a distracted contentment. I was resting in the middle. I would have a few but never too many and never too often.
But if I know anything about myself I know I am never content until I have seen and measured both extremes. And so I embarked on sort of an experimental push to the other extreme. I had lived without alcohol for so long and watched and examined others. And, now it was time to see what the opposite extreme was like Perhaps to prove my point about how stupid it mad one seem? Perhaps... I didn’t care about the final outcome as much as the journey getting there. As time wore on no amount seemed to be quite enough. If two drinks could make you feel good then it only follows logic that four would make you feel wondrous right? This moving onward of course with alcohol already in your system and mixed with the obvious oblivion of inhibitions you come to think the pleasurable effects will continue into the infinitum forgetting the obvious downside, which was sure to follow. Soon your mind seemed out of the loop all together. You assume that if your glass is empty it was in desperate need of being filled. No time to waste. And yet what seems like just moments later you look down to find again an empty glass and think you must have forgotten to fill it the first place. All that really matters after those first few drinks is becoming more intoxicated. Continuing your high and more importantly reaching its heights. Anyone who pretends that by drinking you aren’t doing a drug is lying to themselves. Just because it’s legal doesn’t mean it’s not a drug. If it changes you mental state I suppose it must be a drug. The dictionary defines it as a chemical substance used in the treatment, cure, prevention, or diagnosis of disease or used to otherwise enhance physical or mental well-being. I would say that it definitely enhances mental well-being. You can become addicted to it more easily then most and it is often harder to quit then any other drug you may find. You are enjoying yourself like it’s the first time you have ever tasted it everytime. And another drink becomes one too many and one day you wake up in your bed without any idea how you got there…Or even got home. Looking back the end of the night was really just a growing blur whirled and stirred and turned to a still vacant blackness. I liked to call it time traveling. One minute you are one place the next you are entirely somewhere else. You don’t remember anything in between so you assume there wasn’t one…until to your horror someone explains what you did or said. You may know somewhere deep inside that it’s true, but paradoxically you are definitely sure you weren’t there for it. It was as if whomever it was that had occupied your body for those hours wasn’t you at all. It was all black. Like a page ripped out of the middle of a book. You have no idea what was on it but you can’t deny it was ever there. You can’t skip pages. Something existed in between whether you remember it or not. And yet in a way I suppose it is true. It wasn’t really you. It was like a different version of you born out of the inhibitions and transgressions bestowed from your newfound love for alcohol.
So I decided to seek out the facts. Find out worst-case scenario. How much of this particular drug would be too much. And how much could you continue to do without any noticeable effects.
They say that alcohol is empty calories. Nutritionally you derive nothing from it. But I can’t say nutrition is at all what I had in mind when reaching for my glass. I didn’t expect it to add to my health only to my satisfaction. I searched for ways to make it not better exactly but less bad. Lower calorie perhaps?
I found carbonation to be an interesting thing. Apparently when mixing your alcohol with soda or tonic the carbonation actually rushes the alcohol into your system so you feel drunk more quickly then if you were to mix it with say juice or other such things. Even the temperature of a drink can slow its process. A warm drink will enter more quickly while a cool drink will take longer as it has to warm to your body’s own temperature before it can be fully digested.
Another interesting correlation between low blood sugar (hypoglycemia) and drinking seems to exist. Although I have had problems with low blood sugar dating back to my teens its possible, I do imagine, that this may have exacerbated my issues with it, regardless of the fact that I didn’t start drinking until my mid twenties.
The key question that seemed to present itself is as to whether it is more harmful to binge drink only say once or twice a week or to consume that same amount of alcohol but spread thinly or evenly throughout the week. From what I have read it seems far better for you to have just a drink or two more often during the week then saving them all up for a self-indulgent binge on any given weekend. Drinking a large amount of alcohol in a short amount of time may pose obvious harm to your immediate judgment and may put you in harmful, embarrassing and often regretted situations. As well as taxing your body’s ability to filter the alcohol as you continue to drink. But is it really better then having only a few but more often?
How much is too much in a given binge? It is widely stated that for men it is consuming more then four drinks in a setting or more then 14 a week and for women it is around 1 drink a day or around 7 a week. A .30 bal is the apparent minimum amount of alcohol needed for possible alcohol induced death. A .40 usually induces a coma and a .50 usually slows respiratory and heart rate. And at the level .60 you will find almost certain death. I also found it humorous that suicide was often listed as a possible outcome. As if they believe that alcohol was the reason for the suicide rather then realizing that they probably already had it in their head and the alcohol only reduced the social inhibitions of doing it.
There seems to be some contradictory information out there about how much brain damage drinking may or may not cause you. I have often heard that drinking kills brain cells and that’s why you shouldn’t drink but this is not necessarily true. Drinking may damage dendrites, which are responsible for bringing the messages to and from those cells. There seems to be an array of contradicting evidence in this area. Some say it is merely left over propaganda from during the prohibition when they cited it among the “dangers of drinking”. When they were out to demonize the use of alcohol in anyway as unpatriotic. The truth is that this impairment for the most part is usually temporary and not permanent.
Apparently there are three noticeable effects of alcohol to the brain: Memory loss, confusion and augmentation. (Augmentation being that, as I had put it. “The world seems more alive” lights are brighter. Sounds are louder. And intensity and emotions seem amplified.) Looking at these three I have a hard time convincing myself that these are necessarily bad. I find them quite enjoyable really. But, it isn’t all together harmless. Long term alcohol abuse can and often will lead to neurological disorders. It can lead to damage of the limbic system and even atrophy in the brain causing more long-term effects. Although this is often attributed to a complication from a tendency of under nourishment in heavy drinkers. Anything taken to an extreme will cause you problems. Over all the leading studies seem to point to problems relating to acute alcohol impairment and to the withdrawal symptoms especially among heavy drinkers and not to longer term effects of it except in excessive users.
Although newer studies seem to lend credence to the idea that any alcohol at all can lead to slightly higher cancer rates. This is usually related to the fact that about 8% of the population lacks the enzyme needed to break down alcohol. This missing enzyme metabolizes the alcohol into acetate, which is non-toxic. But for those 8% the alcohol turns into acetaldehyde, which is a chemical that causes DNA damage and has cancer-promoting effects. This often causes facial flushing, according to scientists from NIAAA. The standard seems to be no more then two drinks a day for men and no more then just one drink a day for women. It is still generally accepted by most health professionals that moderate drinkers tend to have better health and live longer then both those who drink heavily and those who abstain from drinking altogether. This is often attributed in large part to its apparent cardiovascular benefits. According to the American heart association moderate drinking may have some anti-clotting benefits that are more helpful then not drinking however too much may result in the opposite effect Although I have often heard that memory loss is a strong reason not to drink this appears to be acute and studies have shown that you are actually less likely to get Alzheimer’s On the basis of its extensive review of research, the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism (NIAAA) reported that moderate drinkers have the greatest longevity. Moderate drinking among older women can benefit memory according to research funded by the National Institutes of Health. Moderate drinkers performed better on instrumental everyday tasks, had stronger memory self-efficacy and improved memory performance," said Dr. Graham McDougall, who led the research. The performance memory tests include such topics as remembering a story, route, hidden objects, future intentions and connecting random numbers and letters. In all cases, the group who drank scored better than those who did not drink. Women who drank alcohol in moderation (defined as consuming up to two drinks of beer, wine or spirits per day) also performed better on attention, concentration, psychomotor skills, verbal-associative capacities and oral fluency.
So what does all this information lead me to? I suppose the way I have and will deal with alcohol represents a microcosm of how I deal with all aspects of my life. I think the key here is to enjoy life to its fullest and yet in moderation.
Monday, November 26, 2007 (take from my myspace page)
Love as an act of regression
I can be an intensely private person. Of this I am aware. I like to think we all have parts of ourselves that we share only with those we think are worthy. And this is hardly a private forum. But things change and I am willing to show myself in hopes that it will be in some way cathartic and in hopes that perhaps others will do the same. After all no one is an island despite what we like to believe.
Falling in love is like falling backwards. When you are in love things do not appear as the truly are. They seem warm and calm and beautiful when they most certainly are not. When you are alone you can see the world how it really is empty and cold and lonely. Love is just an escape. It’s Prozac in the form of a person. It lies to you. Makes you feel wondrous and calm and sure the world is perfect and life will be wonderful after all. And then, without warning, it ends and that veil too lifts and you see people how they really are. Desperate, selfish, cold. But at least in this place you see life how it really is.
I’m not always so jaded but what a comforting place this can be at times.
Things have changed. I have glimpsed heights only to find their edge and come hurdling back towards reality. I fell in love. And that was my first mistake. I always try to be as open as possible. Especially with the ones I say I love. When I am with someone I am an open book, but only if they are open too. And this time I couldn’t find that key. I feel I have been accused. I have been shown in a less than positive light. We all have our demons but I feel I need to share so things can be seen from a different perspective. I did the things I did for a reason. It wasn’t impulsive though I admit I can sometimes be called this. It came after a long period of deep internal thought on the nature of love and what I need from it.
Have I said hurtful things? Of course I have. Have I burned you deeply? I can see that I have but it was only to draw you out. By calling you out when you were wrong. Believe me I have no illusion of thinking that I was always right in how I have acted. There are things I regret and you were patient with me when I was wrong. But I was always honest. I always told you what I felt even if I didn’t understand it. And, when you read things that weren’t meant for your eyes without asking what did you expect to find, but a striped down version of what I have told you without any caution to avoid causing pain. But this is not to say that what was said was unfair or untrue. My account of how things happened is truly how it seemed from my perspective. Perhaps you see it another way. I can’t blame you. We are very different people and naturally we will cast that scene in different colors. I am however sorry to have hurt you. You are an amazing person. One who has a great capacity for love and a wonderful need to do all you can to make someone happy. But we can’t change who we are. And I need someone who I can see inside. That’s all I’m going to say to you. I have said all the rest before. And if you don’t understand me then I can do no more to make you.
I don’t pretend to understand it. Love is an illusive and confusing destination, but we can do no more then bow to it. For what is life without love? What is anything if it does not love or is not loved? We will do anything to find love. For in love we feel less alone. And that is the true reason we seek it out. We seek out what we find in ourselves. We want to know that someone else understands us. Someone feels just the way we do. And we can commiserate in that knowledge that we are not alone. But no one will fill a void you cannot fill yourself. So often we convince ourselves that we simply need to find in someone else what we ourselves lack. And we will in that become whole and life will suddenly make sense. But that’s not real. No one is perfect. No one can be all the things that you lack. You have to be whole in yourself. Love is not the merging of two but the coming together of two separate people who are fully capable of being on their own but choose to be together. Life is hard. Life is painful. If you are looking to find calm waters and sunny skies do not seek love for those blue skies are simply in waiting of the night. In waiting of the storm that will test it. That which will show you things are not always how they seem but that there is a dark lining to every cloud right along with its silver one.
In moments like these, when we are at an end of one life, and cautiously approaching another, it is so very easy to say Id rather be alone. Things make more sense. Living life is more comfortable when there are no walls to scale. It is the heart that makes life hard. But thinking clearly I know that Id rather find myself in the deepest depressions for it is by them that we come out a better person. Someone who is capable of even more love then we had before. You can reach heights you never imagined but it is its depths you must first walk. That’s just its nature. And why live at all if we can’t love? I try and use the most painful of times to learn. Lets not make the same mistakes over and over. Lets all move forward toward that perfect utopia that we all realize can never really be reached but do our best to strive toward it anyway.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Checking out
Checking out ( starting over in a world run by money)
I once had a teacher tell me that so long as you are climbing someone elses ladder you have to do it their way and you will never be the one on top because its their ladder. The only way to really achieve something is to make your own ladder.
It may seem spontaneous, irresponsible call it what you will.
The one thing that people let run their lives and forget to question is money. Some people have it. Some people don’t have hardly any. Everyone seems to have a different relationship with it and yet there is a thread that runs through all of us in how we think of money. We all want more of it. We all get trapped within the cycle of getting money. Wanting more money. Buying things. Then buying things on credit, and finally working to pay off the things you bought all the while buying more things on credit. Until ultimately you aren’t even working for yourself anymore or the things you want. You are working for your credit cards. You are working to pay their fees and interest. Wondering how this happened. And you have to keep the job you have and try increasingly hard to make more and more money just to keep up with the bills. Is this life? Is this what we all looked forward to through the young innocent eyes of our past into our future. Did we really only want the house, the car, or the flat screen tv? Did we all cash in and condemn ourselves to the rat race for “things”? The more you get,..the more you have…the more you want. I don’t think you can call it greed exactly. It seems to be at the core of human nature. A striving toward something is the very thing that drives us. The very thing that pushes us forward and makes us accomplish things. But capitalism has convenced us all that we don’t want simply to make personal accomplishments unless we can show them off but the things we were able to acquire.
Somewhere along the way things were twisted. I have only lived in America so I can only speak as a girl in her late 20s in America. Although ,I suspect there are many similarities across the world, it does seem that America has become a very severe microcosm of the world and human nature as a whole .
I grew up poor. Lots of people do grow up this way and looking back we were beyond poor really. To imgine taking myself out of what I have now a being thrust into that same situation revisited Im not sure if I could do it. I don’t know how my mom did it. What a different world that would be.
(When you are very young you don’t really notice money or things. You are far too wrapped up in your own world enjoying it for what it is and not noticeing who has what and who does not. At least that’s what I remember from it. )
When I turned eight we moved into a new house. “new” being that it was once a small store in a residential area of Bakersfield California, delapitated but somewhat modified into a small one story house
My mom took it much harder then us. Less because she wanted “things” for herself but as I imagine all parents much feel they want these things for their children. They want to give them all they can and want the best life possible for them. And in this world of money that usually means things.
We were kids. We knew no better; no different. We simply were. And we made due with what we had without a second thought. We had imagination and could be anywhere and have anything we wanted. But as you get older you vision begins to include that which others have and more importantly, more noticeably, that which you do not. And its in this thought or knowledge which grows this lack of fullfillment and blossoms into a tree In a garden whose apples you cant resist. We learn quite definitively that if we don’t have what someone else has then we are defiecent in some way or another rather then realizing its not what we don’t have, not what others do have, but its that which we do with whatever we have.
But is it possible to check out? To start out in your own way in a system run by money. Is it possible to stop wanting?
i just think this is funny
The stats
The Stats
“Approximately 31,655 individuals complete suicide each year…that’s 86.7 people each day…one person approximately every 17.2 minutes.”
I remember watching the clock, gazing up dramatically with teenage eyes each 17min or so marking each persons passing like my own small memorial to their death.
I read on through an article devoted to the subject and noticed how it refered to each suicide as a completed suicide. “Women are more likely to attempt suicide but men are more likely to complete it.”
…Like the rest of us just havent finised yet.
I read on...” Note that a firearm is, by far, the most common method for suicide. (55% of all suicides are committed with a firearm.) Thus it is imperative that a suicidal person not have access to a firearm. If you know someone who is suicidal and owns a gun, call 911 immediately...” I would never use a gun. Too messy. An expected death should be beautiful.
“Hanging (or suffocation) is used in about one out of five suicides, which is why you can never leave an acutely suicidal person alone for even a second. People who have died by hanging have used virtually every conceivable thing to hang themselves with, such as electric cords, belts, sheets, etc. Again, never leave an acutely suicidal person alone…” I imagined all the things made of string and rope and cordes that someone might hang themselves with. Seemed comical almost. I pictured some random person with leagions of rope and string around their necks hanging limply from a celealing fan, or rafter or some other steady object.
“Poisoning accounts for slightly less than one out of five suicides. It is very easy for a suicidal person to obtain over the counter drugs and then overdose on them, especially when the drugs are combined with alcohol.” I think this one would be more my style. Much easier to make the decision when your mind and inhibitions are at bay.
Because drugs could be hidden virtually anywhere, you need to get immediate help for someone who is acutely suicidal.”
“The three most common methods of suicide – firearms, hanging, and poisoning – account for 92.3% of all suicides.”
“Although many believe that jumping off a building (or falling) is a common suicide method (because when it happens there usually is a lot of news coverage about it), in actuality only about 2% of all suicides occur by this method…”
Jumping from a building is something ive thought of nearly everytime Ive looked down from a tall building. Like a foreign impulse realesd from somewhere within. Peering ever so interested over the edge. Afraid and yet eager. Everytime Ive looked out off a high bridge the same thoughts came to mind… but Im not sure if I could. It would be easy in a way I suppose. One last step and there is literally no turning back. Although I imagine those last few seconds before hitting the pavement would be an histeria ending in blackness.
And my favorite is that more people die from suicide each year than homicide. We are much more apt to take are own lives than the lives of others. I thought about that for awhile. Its funny really and true.
I thought of all the times in my life when i watched out for strangers or double checked a locked door at night. Or imagined someone hiding in the house ready to attack once they thought I was asleep…just like villisca I imagined. Someone in the attic ready to murder everyone in the house with seemingly no reason at all.
I thought of all the anxiety that can cause a person contrasted with the beauty and ease of planning ones own end. Such a strange juxtaposition of vurtially the same thing. Death.
complete suicide
The sadest thing we as individuals will ever realize is that ultimately we are all alone and always will be…
The bathroom
The water was hot and sent lines of steam trailing up into the air. My red, freshly polished toes showing just above the water line. As if peaking out from the underneath..moist and warm.
The room was bathed in a golden candle light which pulsed and breathed with each eddie of air. It was so quiet. Not a sound at all. Like the world had breathed in and was holding its collective breath until the act was finished.
What is one to think in her last moments? I thought of crying but I wasnt sad so much as just detached. I thought of happiness. The emotion I hoped I would soon find if any emotion were to be found upon my death.
Thoughts went quickly at first and then slowly drifted through my mind and out the other side until I paid little attention to their content or meaning at all and they were just a soft distant murmer in the back of my head.
Things were getting a little softer around the edges as the pills efffects began to bleed into my sight. I held the razor and felt the coolness of its metal. I wasnt afraid. I pushed its perfectly pointed edge deep into my wrist watching the deep dark red first pool and then drip.
I had to do it quick. A moment of hesitation could be the difference between death and a trip to the mental hospital. In one quick motion I pulled its edge down my arm. I lay there watching the water become pink and then darken in to a beautiful rose red.
It started in my toes suprisingly. I watched their polish tips as they began to tingle and go numb and slide beneth the water. I felt the sensation crawl eagerly but slowly up my body. A noticeable vibration to the beat of my racing heart.
I was just an observer now. I wasnt even me. I was outside myself looking in. My sight grew more and more dull and then it faded all together. I thought at first it was the steam in my vision but the pills had made themselves known and the shock and loss of blood was finally setting in.
I didnt cry. I didnt evan say a word. Now my fingers and arms were buzzing with the draining of their life. Ohhh it felt sooo good. I was letting go; I was giving in. Nothing mattered except this wondereous sensation. My body was vibrating and I was fading and I closed my eyes and felt the sensation drift and pulse and steal me away.