Smokers are Jokers

A ban on cigarettes. While I did feel a momentary clutch at my heart for such an act, I know quite well that they are truly detrimental to ones health. Then I heard that it wasn't on all cigarettes, oh no, lets do everything we can and just ban candy and fruit flavored cigarettes instead. Now, I have a problem with this. Having been an avid smoker of clove cigarettes for the past two years I'm not really outraged at the loss of another addiction, but rather the fact that it's being pushed through by a tobacco lobbyist in order to increase the sale of regular cigarettes.

Looking back over the years that I've felt the necessity to slowly eviscerate my esophagus and lungs. I don't think I actually ever saw a young child trying to buy cloves. In fact until I turned 18 and moved off to college, I never knew that there were other cigarettes that tasted good. My first experience with smoking came from the time I stole one of my grandmother's Salem Lights. The ashy taste covered my tongue and sent shivers down my spine. I was pretty convinced at the time that I would not be smoking ever again; something that I haven't been able to follow by the way.

Then came my college years where I was exposed to more than I probably needed to. And wonder behold, one of those discoveries came in the form of a flavorful smoke known as cloves. I was ecstatic, as well as coughing and suffering from sore throats left and right. So to say that I wasn't aware of their destructive effects is silly. Yet, I enjoyed them, they cost a bit more due to tax and import cost, but honestly they were my smoke of choice.

Now, however, I am forced to say good-bye to them due in large part to tobacco companies losing sales from a the younger generation? Altira, one of the largest tobacco groups in the country heralded this new law as innovative and amazing. Stating that it's time that all companies would follow suite. First of all, I can honestly say that the quality and reliability of clove cigarettes has never failed me. Yet, what really is annoying is listening to Altira parade about proclaiming that this bill that they pushed through will inevitably reduce their competition under the guise of protecting our children.

Fatherhood

He wasn't sure what he was doing. His hands sweated against the rough material on the steering wheel of his 1984 plymouth. He ran through two stop signs without a care, his brow was sweating and he breathed heavy. On July 17th, 2009 Hector Rodriguez found out that he was a father.

She hadn't told him at all. In fact she just vanished. One day the family just up and left. Hector got no call, no word. At sixteen, he wasn't sure what to think when he saw the empty living room of her parents house. The outlines where the family pictures used to hang were still fresh on the wall.

So after such a hasty exodus, it was no wonder that Hector was driving as fast as he could. The sound of his girlfriend Marissa Wilcott screaming as she wished he could be by her side. So with no other than Marissa, Hector drove. Watching the city lights slowly fade, his heart determined as Marissa was two counties away, twenty six miles.

The old plymouth that his father had given him for passing his driving test was not what one would call a reliable vehicle. Hector himself wasn't exactly proficient with motor vehicles at all. So it was no wonder to watch the rusted white vehicle slowly sputter to a halt and die at the side of the road. the closest mile marker saying that it was still sixteen miles to Las Cruces.

Feeling the buzz in his left pocket, Hector fetched his cell phone. Marissa calling flashing as he pushed the send button.

"HECTOR.. where are you?" She sounded tense to him, no surprise. She was pregnant, in labor. Labor. With his child.

"The plymouth died about sixteen miles out....." He wasn't sure how to reply. He wanted to say he would be there soon. He wanted to say he was on his way.

"Hector, it's coming, the baby is coming." Marissa screamed at the top of her lungs. Hector could hear the doctors running about. Mrs. Wilcott was soothing her daughter. Hector stayed on the line and listened, leaning against the side of stalled car.

"Hector....Hector...say hello to your new baby girl." CLICK. Hector heard the phone close as he stared at the screen. Marissa's name flashing as the phone went to sleep.

"Hello......" Hector said. He was a father, to a baby girl.

The Value of a Dollar

I'm proud to say that this is the final post, albeit late, but still, 7 days, 7 posts, I'm really impressed.

There are times in our lives where we need to learn to live without. I don't come from a rich family, and honestly most of the people that I know are also not. My family was never rich, nor poor, but we were comfortable in our lifestyles. Coming to college, it was a real wake up on how much I had to do in order to enjoy a comfortable lifestyle. I worked three jobs, on average about 30-40 hrs a week between all three, while still doing my school work. Classes were subjective based purely on my mood, as bad a decision as that was somedays.

We as a country have such a odd idea about the concept of money. We're either happy if we have it, or we're miserable trying to get more of it. However, the old adage will always be true, money makes the world go round. I don't think we'd know what to do with ourselves if we didn't have currency to use. The barter system would resort back to certain individuals being more shrewd than others. To see this practice still in play, try buying a mattress or car.

While sitting on the porch with some friends an interesting idea was proposed. We have a national budget, and yet I have not heard how that is actually dealt with. If an ordinary person were to try and exceed their limit, well I can assure you that the card companies would have no problem with telling us DENIED, everyone's looking in the store, have to put the shoes back, etc. etc. Yet it's all the same everything leads back to money.

Money is the root of all evil. I've known myself to become rude and stingy in cases with how I spend, basically cause I don't have enough to support myself in most cases. But I think I realized something. Money is just that, money. You work and have it, then it's gone. Regardless of the circumstances, I think it's important to understand that no matter what we say or do money is a part of what we are. Even though I may remain poor and starving for years to come, I'll keep by my values and use money to live, rather than to live by it.

Following My Week of Success

This is not todays post, there will be one later in the day, but this is not it. The purpose for this post is for me to make a few things clear about what will happen after this week of posting. While I'm quite impressed with myself for being so diligent about posting, I also realize that I would not be able to continue with such a posting frenzy. Rather I'm going to limit myself to three times a week, I feel that is substantial enough that it should keep people pleased.

Secondly, as of late I've been wondering what I want this blog to be about. It's all well and good to have random posts about my thoughts and ideas, but I want this creation of mine to have some form of direction. I'm going back and forth between what I truly want, but I think what it is going to come down to is my personal writings mostly. I need to start putting my work in a more viewed media if I truly want to be a writer.

So the following are the rules that I'm going to follow. I will be posting every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, save for some awful circumstance in which case I apologize in advance, and will do so again later I'm sure. Tuesdays and Saturdays will be works of my own fiction. Nothing overly long, but small sections of random works, or what have you. Thursday will be my more common post with me ranting and raving and doing absolutely nothing to fix it.

That's all for now.

Take Three and Call Me in the Morning

When did America rely solely on the recommended dosage? There seems to be some form of narcotic or drug on the market that will fix almost anything. Depression, sleeping disorders, hang nails. Honestly, when did we rely solely on tiny mutli-colored power vitamins to dictate and repair our lives?

Growing up I can recall times when an unruly child would be advised to spend more time with him or her. Children are naturally just free spirits who are learning their places in the world. Now however, we have Ritalin, which it seems is so much easier than actually dealing with the children. Not all children are just free spirited and rambunctious. Some do require this medication. Yet, I can't help but feel that many young children who actually take the drug actually don't need it.

Even outside of the classroom you have those SUV driving soccer moms who lose themselves in their own drama and mystical world known as suburbia and rely on Xanax and Zoloft just to put on a happy face to see their own families. Sure many sought many more unhealthy ways, like smoking and alcohol, but how is doping up and forgetting the world actually helping anything?

Many people, suffer greatly from depression, ADD, and a myriad of other ailments that require medical aide. It's tragic that certain individuals must rely on something that honestly has no business in their bloodstream to begin with. One way to look at things is simply, the reason that so many children and people are prescribing these things for themselves is simply that as a race we've become unable to show some backbone and deal with day to day lives.

The real world is not something that you can easily conquer. If it was, what would be the point in anything that we say or do? Honestly, without the pain and suffering there wouldn't be a logical response for actually getting out of bed every morning. Rather than just popping a few pills down and relying on them to deal with everything.

Socialism "cough cough" Sucks

Recently there has been a lot of talk about socialized medicine. Facebook polls, news reports, random census. The truth of the matter is that regardless of what we say or do, the many years of hatred towards community and socialist regimes will always ensure that we avoid the concepts and possibilities of such acts till the inevitable failure in the system forces us to do something drastic.

The first notion of socialized reform was first introduced by F.D.R. back during the depression. Social Security, no pussy-footing around the notion here. Through this, everyone puts in money, and everyone collects. The very foundation of what a socialist system would be like, no one gets more, no one gets less, save for what they choose to do outside of the system, you work, and earn your percentage. This system now has become so engrossed in our society that people are outraged when their promised funds are not delivered. Social Security is part of American life.

So now that we have this option of socialized medicine many are backing down, due in part to the belief that health-care will somehow magically fall behind. There have been few to no instances I can recall in which health-care was some profound experience that i waltzed in, was seen immediately and treated promptly. In all honestly I can hardly remember a time when I wasn't either wasting my time in a waiting room or arguing with a nurse over some menial charge that has just been recently added to my plan.

Health- care is like any other facet of the American Life, it's a business, and one that is currently profitable. Many feel that there is not need to change because they themselves will no longer feel the bonuses from such a system. It's true that those choice few doctors would probably suffer from the implement of such a system. Yet, what about the millions of other doctors who do not go above and beyond as some do, and we still pay the same bloated salary to.

We are currently facing a situation in which we must act accordingly. The current system is not working. The only benefactors of this system are those working in the executive offices, watching the money roll in, while many cannot afford health-care, and suffer from simple problems that are normally easily treatable, but result in being fatal. The truth as to why people wish to keep their system is this implied sense of decadence that America has become famous for. We need to stem ourselves away from this supposed superiority and realize that until things are improved, we ourselves will do nothing but suffer the consequences.

The Word is the Same

Last week under the influence of ice cream, a cool breeze and porch sitting I had a rather interesting conversation with my friend and his roommate about the word terrorism. While I don't think we actually agree on the matter he made a lot of valid points that I felt it necessary to discuss.

From his point of view, he saw terrorism as nothing more than a way of keeping the fear instilled in people. Stating that instead of terrorism we should be using other words such as civilian warfare. The power of words is often very hard to notice today, basically cause television has ensured that most people are not illiterate, but their competency is rather low.

However, what do you call such an act? I agree with him that the word terrorism is a strong word and causes more problems than merely identifying the act. The problem is, in certain instances when you require action, without the proper speech we find ourselves always floating in the middle. America is not known for action in any regard. In fact the only reason that terrorism today causes such a sting to people is the fact that after centuries of other countries being afflicted with terrorism, America, on it's own soil has finally been attacked and exposed to what the rest of the world has come to endure.

The word terrorism and the act are now each an awful aspect, since we no longer just see terrorism as something that happens everywhere but here. But would anything change if we honestly changed the word to something else? The bare fact is that someone would make sure that the new word would be based in just as animosity as anything else.

Words have power over the masses, through them many people have been known to fall by the wayside. And the fact remains that even if you changed terrorism, someone would change that meaning to suit their purpose as well.

Necessary Evils

Her hair smelled of lilacs, I suppose that was her one feature that you could never forget. The soft features of her cheeks, with her curly brown hair falling gently over her face, smelling of lilacs. Silvia Moreno was a mother of three, and at the age of twenty three she waited at the bus stop near the Cielo Vista mall, hoping to go downtown and see someone. The cool November air brushed past her cheeks, sending her lilac locks into the breeze while she adjusted her checkered scarf.

Silvia looked across the bus and smiled at the young girl who was sitting with her mother. Silvia liked the purple ribbons in her hair, and the spaghetti stain on her shirt. She waved hi as the little girl giggled and bit the seat. Her mother chastising her and nodding politely to Silvia. They made casual conversation until they reached final stop.

Her fingers twirled the cords of her jacket as she bit her lower lip, she wondered if she should have worn some make up, the tight revealing clothing seemed so out of place in the neighborhood as she slowly walked up Oregon St., looking for the address that she had scribbled down on a sheet of paper. The numbers were faded, but she had read them so much the past few days that she knew where she was going.

He answered in his boxers, a grossly hairy body, a rather distasteful mustache, and a obviously a heavy drinker. She didn't know his real name. Nor did she want to. He called her Elaine, and she responded by heading inside, her stomach twisting and turning. He ran his hands down her arms, as she slowly began to undress. She suppressed the tears as she mumbled the names Sergio, Ricky, and Marissa, her three children at home. He traced the strap of her bra with his mouth. She quivered as she felt his mustache. Still saying the names of her children in her head.

Offensive Laws Dictate Reality

Today my roommate made me privy to a rather intriguing article, stating the conditions that many could be considered a sex offender. It started off in the traditional sense, giving you rising alarm to the institute of Megan's Laws, and the typical background. Where things took a turn for the worse was the realization that apparently one can be a sex offender for not even being indecent to a child in any way.

I think many of us have noticed that when you target a demographic such as parents, who can be blamed for almost anything, but rarely are ever mentioned as to just how well they do as parents. The world is no longer as safe as we used to believe about it. I'd love for that statement to be true, but in reality the only thing that has changed is the fact that we now receive information so quickly that our world has shrunk down to a small screen.

Times have changed, and while I do think that there are reasons for such things like Megan's Law, I think it's important to realize that not everything we do can be offensive to children. I'll avoid the parts referring to the selling of cannabis as offensive, because that will probably receive it's own standpoint anyway. I feel the more pressing issue is the fact that a mother who gave consent to her daughter to have sex with her boyfriend was deemed a sex offender.

Now honestly? Where exactly is the logic in that one? A mother believes her daughter can handle the responsibility of sex, and because she gave her daughter some sense of credibility she is a sex offender? I'd like to point out that these two youngsters actually did get married. Teens have sex everyday, I'm sure right now as I type this, there are a few teens busy in the backseat of their mother's SUV somewhere.

However, don't take my word for it, at the bottom of this post will be the link provided to me so that you can read for yourself. This is what our country has reduced it's public to. Yes we're keeping our kids safer, but in reality we just have an issue of turning our own citizens into pariahs. Watching as many of them who made mistakes as teens and young adults live long lives only to be plagued by the fact that no matter what they do, these curse can haunt them for the rest of their lives.

http://shaifug.notlong.com

A Goofy Smile

I was nervous, even after it's happened, I'm still nervous in same cases, but nothing was supposed to happen. Yet, did I actually believe that? Perhaps the more rational part of med did. But I think we both knew better. He didn't live very far, so while walking down the road all I could do was think and listen to my every increasing nervous breath.

Would he be physical at the door? Would he seem like he wanted anything at all? Does that matter? What do I want? Honestly I was conflicted. And a part of me still is. We all wonder about those little uncertainties in life. What will happen here, what will happen there. When it comes to matters of the heart, there are times when we must.

Sometimes you just need to take the plunge and push forward. Was my decision right or wrong. In the morning I think we all come to learn that such things really don't matter. After everything is done his feelings will still be a mystery to me, and anything that we think we know will not matter. The truth of the matter is that we all take a gamble in life as to whether or not we want to.

I texted him that I was downstairs, and he showed up. I can't honestly describe how I was feeling at that moment. Sure I think he looked cute, he had a goofy smile. So I went upstairs and enjoyed my time. The next morning, after little to almost no sleep I walked back down the street, the sun was up, I was tired, and possibly a little disoriented. I still don't know what he feels to be honest, we still talk, and I still think he has a goofy smile.