Comfort Town

Having spent most of my politically and socially formative years in California, specifically Berzerkeley, I am relentlessly pc. Well, superficially anyway.

I also have a bad back... the result of managing to find some ice to slip on in Berkeley several years ago, and then aggraving the injury by landing on my rump twice in Portland Maine. I fully expect to find myself in the middle of an ice slick here in New Mexico too. Am I cursed or clumsy? Probably both. But this time I'm going to look down, engage in some cursing of my own and tiptoe my way to safety.

There's a connection between bad backs and political correctness, I'm pretty sure of it. Let's see if I can find it.

A few weeks ago, I was in the midst of many disorienting medication changes, worrying incessantly about the latest round of medical bills that will soon arrive and stressing over the cost of heating my home this coming winter, which is also arriving sooner than I expected. And I was in the midst of worrying about my family having to deal with my craziness, and whether it was possible to drain dry the credit line of love that they've always generously extended to me.

Enough with the excuses, get to it girlfriend. ok.... So I started smoking a few weeks ago. Nicotine has a very soothing calming effect on me and I've turned to tobacco in times of fear more than once in my life. Yes. I know. Smoking tobacco is one of the most non-pc activities a modern mortal can engage in, excluding of course the use of tobacco as an entheogen the way Native American Shamans have, for example. But my genetic heritage is solidly British Isles. So enough with the baloney, Bucksnort.

I really enjoyed smoking. It brought me great comfort. Just like my recliner brings my back great comfort. Just like being pc brings my psyche great comfort. Ah, finally, a connection.

Well, I quit smoking again after it started becoming just plain old gross and especially after my shocked and disgusted sister shamed me into (or out of) it. And quitting has comforted my tattered and tarnished pc soul.

So. Comfort. I find it in so many acceptable places... family, friends, music, swimming, art projects, my recliner, my cats, my dog, my plants, the wide open skies of New Mexico. I've always intended to seek comfort from healthy enlightened sources. I still do. I just fall off the wagon every once in a while and seek it from unhealthy unenlightened sources like a little nicotine, a lot of carbohydrates, a little beer, a little wine, a lot of tv....

Here's to climbing back up into the driver's seat of my wagon, taking the reins firmly in hand and choosing the bumpier but healthier trail to Comfort Town.