So, in my continuous search for "what the fuck is wrong with me?" I happened upon a list of questions. The answers to these question lead to you to understand whether or not you might need al-anon as a support in your life. Here are the questions from the southern illinois al-anon website:
Do you constantly seek approval and affirmation?
Do you fail to recognize your accomplishments?
Do you fear crtiticism?
Do you over-extend yourself?
Have you had problems with your own compulsive behavior?
Do you have a need for perfection?
Are you uneasy when   your life is going smoothly, continually anticipating problems?
Do you feel more alive in the midst of a crisis?
Do you still feel responsible for others, as you did for the problem drinker in your life?
Do you care for others easily, yet find it difficult to care for yourself?
Do you isolate yourself from other people?
Do you respond with fear to authority figures and angry people?
Do you feel that individuals and society in general are taking advantage of you?
Do you have trouble with intimate relationships?
Do you confuse pity with love, as you did with the problem drinker?
Do you attract and/or seek people who tend to be compulsive and abusive?
Do you cling to relationships because you are afraid of being alone?
Do you mistrust your own feelings and the feelings expressed by others?
Do you find it difficult to identify and express your emotions?
Do you think parental drinking may have affected you?

I answered yes to almost all of these questions. In fact, they might as well be a laundry list for the emotional problems I've been struggling with my entire life. So, yay, now I have a direction. But...as I look into meetings I'm getting more and more discouraged. al-anon, like AA is based on a twelve-step program. Great. But my problem comes with the steps that say you need to give yourself over to a higher power, in the actual steps it even says "god" and I have a hard time dealing with that. I'm an atheist. I do not believe in god, and I think most of my problems came when I tried to hand over my issues to spirituality in general. Spirituality is not, for me, a good curative, it can actually make me sicker. So...what do I do about this? In researching, asking therapist(s), and exploring my options my answer seems to be: make a new organization for family members and friends of alcoholics who are also atheists. Or at least people who don't want religion in their therapy. Grrrr.

Basically what other people have said to me is that I should think of the 'higher power' as a higher part of myself, which would work a lot better if step three weren't: "Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood God" and step 7 weren't: "Humbly asked God to remove our shortcomings" and step 11 weren't "Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood God, praying only for knowledge of God's will for us and the power to carry that out"
I mean, seriously, when the steps to recovery require turning my will over to god, and I don't believe in god, I have problems. I want to go to the support group, and I will, but I keep thinking there must be a number of people like me out there who aren't necessarily religious, and want some sort of system to support them in the battle to get better and deal with a family member who is an alcoholic without a great deal of dogmatic sounding religiousity.

Oy.

I don't know why it is that musicals have always provided me with amazing soundtracks, but here, in a few songs, is the basic course of my relationship life, chronologically.

Alright. The radio, or rather blog, silence is coming to an end. I've been out of communication for quite some time now, and there are many, many reasons for that. A couple of months ago I had a breakdown. Complete and utter. I've quit my job as a stripper for the time being at least. I'm probably dropping at least one of the two classes I'm taking this semester. I'm barely working at odd jobs. The simple fact is that I'm emotionally unstable, and I always have been. I've just been very, very good at hiding it and over-functioning. I'm depressed, I think I may have generalized anxiety disorder. It's all mental, I don't believe any of it is purely biological/clinical in nature, and my therapist has never mentioned the possibility of meds, so I don't think the problems can be fixed with medicine.

Instead it takes work. Doing this work feels like it's slowly destroying me and the life I was building. It may destroy a lot before it's done. But, the title of this blog is scars. And, as a poet, regardless of the fact that I haven't written anything since April, I like metaphor. It makes things make more sense to me, helps me to see things more clearly.

And the metaphor of this time in my life is the scar. Tissue healed over a wound, lighter than the flesh around it. I got my first real physical scar when I was nine. Our dog, Buster, bit me one night, the first night I'd ever spent alone in my parents house. Twelve stitches and a tetanus shot, and a lot of trauma. Yet, I fell in love with my scar. It always helped me tell right from left, I could show it off to my guy friends as proof that I'd been through something important. I still have it, though it's much fainter now. I've yet to fall in love with the scars forming on my heart.

And then there are the open wounds, the festering bits of me waiting to spring up and re-infect me with insomnia, and screams, and hair-pulling, and a panic that tells me to run in no particular direction until I just hit walls and crumble. I want those scars. I want to say that I've healed, that I've been through the fire and come out the other side, with only some ash and scar left over. I want to get better, I want to heal, but there are so many deep painful wounds inside of me.

I've always been physically beautiful. Not always sexy, not always desirable, as I learned from stripping, but always beautiful. There have been so many times, though, that I've looked in the mirror and not recognized the well-shaped face in front of me. My eyes have always seemed out of place, with so much pain and terror and disconnection in them. I don't know what calm looks like shimmering back from the mercury pool of a mirror.

I've wished to be plain, or ugly. I've wished to be fat, or clumsy, or have some sort of outer representation of what I feel like on the inside. Instead I'm beautiful. I didn't choose that, I didn't create that, and I often feel like it's some sort of horrible joke that got played on me. I don't care about my physical beauty. When I'm in a bad space I never look in the mirror. Because I don't want to see how pretty I am. It seems like my face is naturally hypocritical at me and at the world. Because when people see the smart, caring, beautiful, cool girl they miss the broken and bleeding mess that's really who I am most of the time.

So I've spent my life pretending. Not lying, really, just making believe that I was really as okay as everyone has wanted me to be. I took on rationality and sense as if it were a weapon against the raging confusion inside of me, but I ignored the confusion that weapon was supposed to fight. I have years of conflict, confusion, and emotional wounds inside of me.

Regardless of the whether my experiences warrant this level of emotion, it's sat inside of me neglected and ignored for so long that now it's like an infected wound oozing out bits of stupidity and irrationality along with a lot of very self-destructive urges. I'm afraid to go to sleep if it's still dark outside. I'm afraid to answer the phone when it rings. I'm afraid to confront the people who have damaged me and demand some sort of recognition that I was hurt. That it wasn't okay to break my trust, that it wasn't acceptable to ignore me.

I know that many people have seen me as a version of the poor little rich girl. I haven't had all that much horrible in my life, really, when compared with other people's lives. True. I haven't had all the pain that the world has to give, but in 25 years I've had more than a fair share. And I have more to come. Life hurts, that's the way it works, but when you ignore the pain, as I have, it doesn't go away, it doesn't get better, it just builds and begs for some sort of release.

And so I will have more scars. Both physical and mental from all this pain that I've lived and ignored and neglected. I have to face it, I have to feel it, but whenever I get close it crashes down on top of me and I become numb, paralyzed, and fearful of any more. And I have isolated myself, now, in a prison of scars and numbness. I wonder, if at the end of this battle, I'll emerge with scars and stories, or just be another broken body waiting to be mourned.

.... .. var SITE_URL = ''; var CLIP_PLAY_LIST_ID = "1063756"; var CLIP_CONFIG_ID = "27003"; .. .. .. .. doAfterLoad( function() { embeddedPlayerManager.setAttribute("targetDivID","videoplayer"); embeddedPlayerManager.setAttribute("companionContainerID","companion_300x250"); embeddedPlayerManager.setAttribute("clipPlaylist", CLIP_PLAY_LIST_ID); embeddedPlayerManager.setAttribute("height",250); embeddedPlayerManager.setAttribute("width",320); embeddedPlayerManager.setAttribute("position","relative"); embeddedPlayerManager.setAttribute("configID", CLIP_CONFIG_ID); embeddedPlayerManager.setAttribute("videoControls","/none"); embeddedPlayerManager.setAttribute("initialVolume",50); embeddedPlayerManager.setAttribute("autoStartOnEmbed",true); embeddedPlayerManager.embedVideoPlayer(); //embeddedPlayerManager.getPlayer().setRunOnEnd("parent.startIntermediateResultTimer()"); } ); .. <[iframe] id="companionAd[iframe]" src="http://video.nbcuni.com/embed/common/companion2.html?companionType=300x250&JScom=http%3A//ad.doubleclick.net/adj/nbcu%252Eoxygen/_%3Bsect%3D%3Bgroup1%3D%3Bgroup2%3D%3Bsite%3Doxygen%3B%21category%3D%3Bnetwork%3Dtvn%3Bemval%3D%3Bsz%3D300x250%3Bpos%3D7%3Btile%3D7%3Bord%3D597622802192345%3F" frameborder="0" height="250" scrolling="no" width="300">.. .. .. You Scored as Rogue Rogue is a strong but tragic personality. She loves Gambit. Because of her mutant powers, she cannot touch anyone without hurting them. Therefore, she longs for human contact. However, this southern gal's strong personality has allowed her to deal with this. Powers: Absorbs lifeforce and powers by touch, Super strength, and flight .. .. Rogue .... 95% .. .. Jean Grey .... 90% .. .. Storm .... 65% .. .. Gambit .... 60% .. .. Cyclops .... 55% .. .. Wolverine .... 55% .. .. Emma Frost .... 45% .. .. Nightcrawler .... 40% .. .. Colossus .... 35% .. .. Beast .... 30% .. .. Iceman .... 25%

Hello all.

So, my life is ever-changing as all know. The newest change is my current job. I'm working as an exotic dancer now. Yep, that's right, I'm a stripper. My stage name is Star, and I'll be sending everyone friend requests, which I will NOT be offended if you reject, I can understand not wanting to be associated with a strip club and such, but I want to build a base of friends and such from my new Star myspace profile. So, feel free to reject the Star profile.

But, all of you people who still live in Southern Illinois need to get together to come see me! I dance every Friday and Saturday, and I'm planning to try to make Sunday and Monday a regular thing as well. Sunday is "in da biz" Sunday when you can get in for free with a check stub from the restaurant industry. Monday you can get in free with a military or student id. Tuesday is $2 Tuesdays where everything behind the bar is only $2. Thursday is ladies' night and all the girls get in free. Those of you who are female and are my friends, if you want to come out to the gallery on a given Thursday, let me know so I can arrange to work, and you MUST come get stage rides from me. I may even give you a deal if it's busy :)

Just fyi, I love it. I got up on stage three weeks ago for Amateur night, and after I got over my initial bit of nervous, I had an AMAZING time. Dancing is challenging, the money is occasionally great and sometimes nothing, and I'm sore and bruised a lot of the time, but it's a fucking blast to get up on stage and know that people are willing to spend money just to see me naked. YAY!

Other than that life is generally good, if confusing and difficult at times. I'm all graduated and such and I've started looking into grad schools. I don't have internet at my house right now, so I'm not posting as much as I usually would.

Also, don't forget about the play the theater company I'm a part of is putting on this summer. It's free to the public, and I'll be sending out invites about two weeks beforehand. I'm A/D and also in the play. It's going to be really good, I think, we have a great cast and a lot of really awesome people working on it in other areas as well. So, come see me. At both places.

Love to all!

Hello All,

Just figured I should probably announce that I'm officially graduating on May 11 of this year. I graduate at 1:30 in the afternoon at the SIUC arena, if anyone wants to come and clap and stuff. I'll probably have some sort of graduation party/get together type thing, and I'll let everyone know when that gets finalized. Just in case you didn't know, I'm receiving my bachelors of arts in English, with a specialization in creative writing with a concentration on poetry. I'm graduation under cum laude, so nothing too special there.

So...yay, and I'm a little nonplussed, at least until I finally actually walk across the stage and get my diploma in the mail and stuff. :)

I've had a really crappy week so far. And it's only going to get worse given the amount of stuff I have to do. I'm working more than I'd like, and yet again I'm beginning to feel overwhelmed by the life I'm living in the pursuit of the life I want.

So, I was thinking today, what is it that's so hard, here? I mean, I understand feeling stressed, but having the reaction to normal life stress being a complete mental breakdown is really not a good sign. So I followed the logic through, and asked myself why it was that I was so unhappy, really? The symptom of too much to do is one thing, but where is the core problem? What is really wrong with me? I've been afraid to really succeed in my life, not because I might fail, but because...what if what I want isn't really what I want? What if I get the dream come true scenario and it isn't enough? It never has been before, so why would it end up being that way now? Ah. Therein lies the rub. If I'm healthy and whole and I get all the things I've thought I wanted, and they turn out not to be what I want, then I change things, get new things I want, and maybe with some trial and error end up finally living the life that makes me feel satisfied, complete, happy. Whatever the components for that may be. Yet this gut wrenching paralyzing fear rises in me when I think about the possibility that what I want isn't enough. Why? Because something is broken in the system. Because there are always ways to look at things where it's just not good enough, when life isn't enough to satisfy me. Even with the perfect family arrangement, even when I have the job I want, and am working on my poetry regularly, and I'm spending time with my kids, and I'm keeping my house clean, and I have good friends that I see regularly, and I'm living according to my moral rules, there is the possibility of dissatisfaction. Because the world, in all it's tiny elements, will never be completely perfect. That's one of the amazing things about life, people, the world at large, there's always room for improvement, there's always something that could be made better.

I think one of the reasons I've been afraid of success has to do with the worry that I'll stop trying if I get everything I want. This drive in me to go, to do, to fix, to change, to grow will just fade away into blah-ness because I have what I want. I hate saying that, it feels so stupid to look at that almost perfect life and be worried about it being "blah," but I am. Because what if the drive in me to make things better comes purely out of things not being okay? That doesn't really make any logical sense, but it's been, I think, the core piece of my problems. The thing is, there's always something to be changed, improved, made better, but that doesn't mean that life can't be good enough to be satisfying and fulfilling. Just that the work is never truly done, that there's always something else to strive for. There's another side of that which, I think, is why my life can get so overwhelming and so stressful. The other side is that you're always focused on the things that need improved so you never stop to look at the things that are better, that are good, that are satisfying, and so you never feel satisfied, except in brief, fleeting moments.

There's a difference between settling and recognizing that one's life is good enough. Good enough doesn't mean best, good enough doesn't mean done, good enough means that the life you have is worth something, it matters to you and to those around you. There's still a great deal to work towards, a great deal that can be accomplished, but the life you have is enough to live on. Recognizing that, I think, and really internalizing it is the key to being able to be happy. I think about zen and all the issues I've had with a lot of zen theory, in a vastly simplified sentence: give up desire, and you will achieve enlightenment. And my response when that happens will be "so what? I don't care, I didn't necessarily WANT this, I just got here by happenstance" and so enlightenment loses all value. Now, instead of giving up desire, allow desire to be the push behind everything you do instead of the voice in  your head telling you how nothing is really good enough. Yes, I want more, I always will, and that's a good thing, but that doesn't negate being satisfied with what I have done and what I am doing. If it is, then it's counterproductive to have desires because you'll never achieve anything worthwhile to you.

Ouch. That whole thing hurts to figure out, that it's really that simple. That, yet again, I have to remind myself that today is good enough, even if it's long, and exhausting, finding the good in it, and remembering that there is something to be taken from each day, each moment, even the scary ones, even the sad ones, even the moments where life hurts, there's something of value there. If you change the thought process surrounding life and allow yourself to see the good in things, allow yourself the opportunity in your own mind to be happy, then it follows that you can, in fact, be happy more often than not. Again, I have to be a realist and point out that there is no life where happiness is a constant, unless it's a deluded life. Pain and sadness are emotions that are necessary for a variety of reasons. But there's a difference between feeling sad and feeling the crushing endlessness of depression. There's a difference between burning a finger on a pan and having third degree burns all over your body. There's pain and there's pain, and if you allow yourself, if I allow myself, the opportunity to actually be good enough, to actually succeed in general, even if the fine tuning needs some work, I have a chance to not have these horrible curled-in-a-ball screaming in misery nights.

This all came out of thinking about something my girlfriend said to me this morning about emotions. That she feels like she doesn't necessarily take the responsibility for her emotions that she'd like to. That she ends up blaming other people and other situations for the way she feels. Well...yeah, most everyone does that. At least in many ways. But I, actually, don't. I've taken ALL the responsibility for ALL my emotions completely on myself. I MUST make the distinction between feeling a certain way in RESPONSE to someone's actions and feeling a certain way BECAUSE of someone else. They're different things. It's not my boyfriend's fault that I feel like he doesn't fully care about how I am on a given day. I have the feeling in response to him not asking a question, so it is his action that triggers the emotional response, but I do not, and can not, hold him accountable for my feelings. They come from me, they come up because of things inside of me, if I feel crappy it's my "fault," my "problem," my "issue," and no one else should have to deal with it. Because I should have ultimate control over it. Um....yeah, hitting myself with the stupid stick. Again and again I come back to this place where I have only myself to blame. In some ways, I think, it's kinda admirable, but it's also really horrifically destructive and keeps me from achieving any real satisfaction or freedom.

Okay, on this lovely note, I need to go to therapy, so I'll continue this blog tonight when I get home from my very long crappy day.

It's always interesting to me when the same thought theme arises from various sources all in one day.

This morning right after class I got into a discussion about whether or not people want their rulers to lie to them. Then I watched an episode of House just now (which often really gets me thinking about stuff) and the patient featured had a brain disorder in which he said literally whatever went through his head. He HAD to tell the truth and had no control over it. He almost ruined his relationship with his wife and his daughter by saying what he really thought. This, of course, brings up a whole issue with House about his lack of social contracts, his general refusal to go along with them, and how it has alienated many many people.

His best friend, Wilson (the anathema to House's character, really, the ideal foil), says that he spends his entire life constantly walking on eggshells, thinking all the time about how what he says might effect people. I'm familiar with both sides of this, actually. I've said for years that I didn't come equipped with the same filter other people have, the one that makes it really clear when you're whining, when you've cut someone off mid-sentence, or mid-thought, when someone has told you something whether it's one of those things you can tell anyone, or one of those things you should tell no one. I don't realize I'm doing it, break the social norm, I don't mean to be bitchy or obnoxious or annoying, or especially unkind, but I often am mistaken for those things because I don't function in society the way other people do.

As an adult I've gotten better about it in general, like at work or in class, but I still screw it up regularly in relationships. Yet, I keep thinking, why is it that we, as a populace, love the show House so much? It's one of the most popular shows on television. Is it the medicine? Nah, I don't think so, that's just an added bonus. It's House himself, it's the kind of unsentimental cynicism mixed with real honesty and intelligence. Honesty. It's a very pretty word and we like it a lot. Except when we actually have to face what people think of us. No one likes hearing they've been an inconsiderate ass, and no one likes knowing that, yeah, that dress really makes you look like a cow.

We don't really like it when people are actually honest with us. We don't actually want an answer to the question "How are you?" when the answer isn't "Fine" or "Okay" or "Great" or "I'm fine, little tired, but pretty good" or something along those lines. When the answer to that question is "I feel like my life is bullshit, I hate being alive, and I have no idea why I can't fix it" people don't really want to know. It's too much information. And knowing that the person you're asking might actually answer that way (my particular issue right now) you don't want to ask the question anymore.

There's another side to this glorious social contract, in which we say the nice things to avoid making people feel bad. That side is the side where you're always trying to figure out what people are ACTUALLY thinking. Which can lead in good or bad directions, but rarely leads to the truth. For instance in the above situation, when the question doesn't get asked because the person doesn't really want the bad answer. Again, my particular situation. When I don't get asked, I suddenly feel as if the person not asking doesn't really care if I'm okay or not. And I jump to new conclusions because I can't just....ASK, can I? Because even though I have trouble remembering the social conventions doesn't mean I'm not aware that other people follow them unconsciously and consciously. Therefore I'm always prepared to have to read into things, figure out what the implication of what someone says actually is. It's exhausting, and it seems...counterproductive.

Wilson eventually points out to House that he, Wilson, enjoys having House as a friend precisely because he doesn't have to tell those little lies to get along. If he tried House would slam him over the head with the obvious falseness of his statement. So with House, Wilson can actually be who he really is, without the pretense he feels obligated to hand the rest of the world. And House knows within a few short minutes whether or not someone is really willing to take him as he is. House never has to ask himself if Wilson likes him, because if Wilson didn't like House, he would have to say so eventually. House doesn't follow the social contract, and therefore he knows who his friends are, and he knows that no one likes a version of him, but the actual House, the one going on inside his head all the time.

And, really, isn't that what we all want? Someone to love us exactly as we are, without the pretense or the pretty pictures drawn around us? I'm a people pleaser, I want people to like me, to enjoy my company, to want to be around me. I admit it, I work my hardest to follow the social contract that takes a great deal of effort to figure out and to remember if it isn't hardwired into your brain. I'm....nice. I hate saying that because it's actually really contrary to what I believe is right. I think honesty, truth and freedom are the three components that come together to give me, at least, a good life. The kind of life I want. And I realize that at least half the reason I actually do hate my life a good part of the time is that I'm following social rules that I don't like or agree with. But I do it because I don't want to be alone. I don't want people to know exactly what's going on inside my head all the time, because sometimes it's not nice. Sometimes it's vindictive, sometimes it's cruel, sometimes it's unfair, sometimes it's cynical and depressing. And, really, no one wants to hear those things. Or, as it occurred to me tonight, maybe they do. Maybe we're all feeling a lot like Wilson wishing someone would be as up front as House and force us to abandon some of the social norms that are constantly constricting our actions and our words. Maybe that's why we watch House, to get it vicariously for an hour a week, and wish we could be a little more like House, and a little less like Wilson.

Maybe we all really want to have a place where it's actually okay to be honestly ourselves without any fear of backlash, where we know it's actually okay to not give a shit that someone else is in a bad mood, or someone's mom just died. Yeah, it's sad and stuff, but it wasn't MY mom, right? I mean, don't we all think that way sometimes? Maybe we're just not brave enough to take the risk to actually say that. Because then...we'd be labeled as "bad" in some way. Just for thinking of ourselves first, instead of constantly putting others before ourselves.

Maybe we've taken the golden rule way too far, and now we're all being nicer than we want to be, and we assume everyone else is too, so what is it that your boyfriend really thinks when you start talking about your shoes? Or what your girlfriend thinks when you go on about some football game she didn't watch? Or, worse, what does your mom think about the career you chose? Or about the person you choose to date? Do we really want to know? Would it be refreshing, or just painful?

I'm honestly....a little conflicted on this. On the one hand I think it's bullshit that we walk around lying to ourselves and those around us just to keep a relative peace. On the other hand, do I really want to be told what's wrong with me all the time? If that's all people are thinking about? I think so. I think I really do want to know, but it's hard to get out of the habit of feeling bad because other people don't approve of me. It's a habit that's ingrained in us, and even if I break out, what about everybody else?

K, saw this on my friend's bulletin, thought it was hilarious, and also...well, are we actually better off now? Food for thought.

SCHOOL -- 1957 vs. 2007


Scenario :
Jack goes quail hunting before school, pulls into school parking lot with shotgun in gun rack.

1957 - Vice Principal comes over, looks at Jack's shotgun, goes to his car and gets his shotgun to show Jack.

2007
- School goes into lock down, FBI called, Jack hauled off to jail and
never sees his truck or gun again. Counselors called in for traumatized
students and teachers.

Scenario :
Johnny and Mark get into a fist fight after school.

1957 - Crowd gathers. Mark wins. Johnny and Mark shake hands and end up buddies.

2007
- Police called, SWAT team arrives, arrests Johnny and Mark. Charge
them with assault, both expelled even though Johnny started it.

Scenario :
Jeffrey won't be still in class, disrupts other students.

1957
- Jeffrey sent to office and given a good paddling by the Principal.
Returns to class, sits still and does not disrupt class again.

2007
- Jeffrey given huge doses of Ritalin. Becomes a zombie. Tested for
ADD. School gets extra money from state because Jeffrey has a
disability..


Scenario :
Billy breaks a window in his neighbor's car and his Dad gives him a whipping with his belt.

1957 - Billy is more careful next time, grows up normal, goes to college, and becomes a successful businessman.

2007
- Billy's dad is arrested for child abuse. Billy removed to foster care
and joins a gang. State psychologist tells Billy's sister that she
remembers being abused herself and their dad goes to prison. Billy's
mom has affair with psychologist.

Scenario :
Mark gets a headache and takes some aspirin to school.

1957 - Mark shares aspirin with Principal out on the smoking dock.

2007 - Police called, Mark expelled from school for drug violations. Car searched for drugs and weapons.


Scenario :
Johnny takes apart leftover firecrackers from 4th of July, puts them in a model airplane paint bottle, blows up a red ant bed.

1957 - Ants die.

2007-
BATF, Homeland Security, FBI called. Johnny charged with domestic
terrorism, FBI investigates parents, siblings removed from home,
computers confiscated, Johnny's Dad goes on a terror watch list and is
never allowed to fly again..

Scenario :
Johnny falls while
running during recess and scrapes his knee. He is found crying by his
teacher, Mary. Mary hugs him to comfort him.

1957 - In a short time, Johnny feels better and goes on playing.

2007
- Mary is accused of being a sexual predator and loses her job. She
faces 3 years in State Prison. Johnny undergoes 5 years of therapy..

Those of you who know me know a couple of things about me.
A) I'm very interested in the world as a whole
B) I voted for Obama
C) I'm rather vocal and have submitted a few letters to the Daily Egyptian in my time
D) I'm a smoker
 
Now, on the actual point here: I officially wish I'd voted Libertarian instead of for Obama. Given that he's screwing me, personally, in a not particularly positive way. I'd like to start with a story. I went to my local tobacco store a few weeks ago to buy my bimonthly tin of American Spirit tobacco. And it had gone up in price from around fourteen dollars a tin to eighteen. I sighed, as usual, at the outrageous state sin taxes on cigarettes and rolling tobacco in Illinois, and I bit the bullet and paid the extra four bucks. Fine. Quinn's trying to undo a serious amount of damage to our economy in this state, he needs to bring in some more money, and he's willing to cut down on a lot of spending too. Fine, I'll eat that one. But then I go back three days ago to buy my second tin. The woman brings it to me and says "That'll be $31.25" and I almost threw up. Seriously. Four bucks for the state I live in is one thing, the twenty four dollars a pound the federal government has applied in taxes to rolling tobacco is obscene. I did NOT vote for Bush. It is NOT my fault the economy is in the shitter. Why am I having to pay the difference because I choose to smoke? Excuse me? When, exactly, did I start engaging in an illegal activity? As far as I know prohibition didn't work out too well in the first place...speakeasys, organized crime, the only time in American history we've ever created an ammendment to get rid of another one.
This was my first reaction. I remedied the situation as best I could, and did some research. Which is when I found out what this tax hike on the mainly poor folks (oh, wait, am I remembering a promise not to ever raise taxes on anyone who makes less than $250,000/year? Or, was it just not to raise taxes on NON-SMOKERS who make less than $250,000/year?) is being used for. Socialized fucking health care. My one major complaint with Obama all along. I've said for years, even when I was a socialist, that socialized health care is a sweet idea in theory, but when put in practice it becomes, at best, the health police that tell us how we must live in order to get health care (in England, you could be DENIED medical care if you smoke). At worst, socialized health care results in crappy health care that doesn't really benefit anyone, so the rich come to the U.S.A to get quality care, and the poor die. Sucks, doesn't it? Canadians have been coming to the U.S. for years to get better health care. This particular tax hike is being used to fund a particular program: The State Children's Health Insurance Program. Ah, I see, I should have to pay the medical costs for all the kinds in the country. Almost single handedly at these prices. Okay, here's the thing, I have a kid. She's on medicaid. Medicaid is funded through the State of Illinois, not the federal government. My sales taxes on EVERYTHING I buy is already going to that. As is my income tax, and property tax that my landlord pays from my rent checks. I'm already paying forward for my kid to get health care, and I really don't understand why in the hell I should be paying for the health care of kids in Texas or Nebraska or Arizona. And my favorite part is that the federal government is apparently now funding state health care through taxing, well, me. Not my job. Not just because I happen to smoke rolling tobacco.
Because, here's the interesting part, Obama didn't decide to just tax those who make unhealthy choices: drinkers, smokers, people who eat too much McDonalds and have become overweight or obese, people who drive too fast on the highway, people who have dangerous sex with prostitutes, people who gamble. No, Obama only taxed the smokers. And, amazingly enough, the smallest number of smokers in the country: those of us who choose to roll our own. Why do we choose to roll our own? A variety of reasons. It's been typically a lot cheaper, for one. But I actually only smoke American Spirit rolling tobacco because it tastes better, it has no additives (so all that stuff that's in most second-hand smoke, like formeldyhyde and cyanide isn't in my second-hand smoke), biodegrades in the first rain that hits it, and is used by many Native Americans in tobacco ceremonies. I also really enjoy the ritual of rolling a cigarette. In fact, it prevents me from smoking as much as I did when I smoked "real" cigarettes. It's also generally better for me. Still has risks, and I'm aware of those, and I accept the consequences. Like, for example, if I get lung cancer in twenty years I'll have to pay out the ass for my insurance to cover the costs of treatment. Fine, I'm good with that, that's me paying for me and my habit. But I'm not really fine with paying for some kid's health care because his mom lets him eat as much candy as he wants and now he has juvenile diabetes. Not my fault, and I don't let my kid have copious amounts of sugar. I have no problem paying a little extra for my tobacco to support the state I live in, but a federal sales tax is ridiculous.
Not to mention what I've learned in my Economics class this semester about what taxes do for the economic good of the market as a whole. Taxes screw people over. Buyers, sellers, and the community at large. Less money gets spent, fewer items get sold, and there's less money going around. It's a little more complicated than that, but that's the basic gist. Sales tax is crazy, all it does is mess up the economy, which, as we know, is in such great shape. And Obama's helped a lot with that too, what with all the handouts he's giving to major companies like AIG and the Auto Industry (which, by the way, shot itself in the foot by ignoring the oil crisis and not manufacturing to an inevitable market).
Not that I don't have many problems with the idea of a sin tax as a whole: um, excuse me, when did I give my government the right to decide what is okay and what isn't when it comes to what I choose to purchase legally? I don't want my morality determined or policed by my government, anymore than I want my parents to have a say in how I spend my money now that I'm an adult. The thing I find most laughable about sin taxes is the idea that they will stop people from doing the thing. You know what will happen with this $23/pound tax raise on rolling tobacco? People are going to start smoking "real" cigarettes instead because it's cheaper. Or people are going to buy tobacco elsewhere, like on Indian Reservations where the taxes of the federal government of the United States don't apply. And people like me are going to keep looking for a good way to get off of this sinking ship we call a country before the economy collapses entirely due, mainly, to altruistic good intentions that only end up fucking everyone over.
I wish I could take my vote back, and if I had ever had an inkling that Obama would have signed this bill (oh, by the way, take a look at the article: http://www.mndaily.com/2009/03/10/federal-tobacco-tax-inequitable ) I never would have voted for him. I'd almost rather have McCain, wacko that he may be, except that he voted for the same bail-outs as Obama. I really wish someone in politics would actually pay attention to the basic common-sense rules of the economy...but they're all "idealists," right?