I’ve written some pretty controversial stuff lately, and this elicits a lot of caring and interesting advice from some of my caring friends who read. It also elicits some vile vitriol from some of my less caring readers. Yesterday, I took a break from comments. I just didn’t read, but listened with interest as the “You’ve Got Mail!” messages occurred throughout the day. I did read all the comments this morning when I was in a better frame of mind to let them all soak in so to speak. It always fascinates me what others think of me or what advice they give. I do appreciate it very much. It’s like grist for the mill and gets me to thinking.
Most days, I don’t take anything personally. I find it an interesting study in human nature of some of the more vitriolic anonymous comments. The main goal is to cause me pain, and it is interesting that someone out there found my daily journal and made it a part of their lives to cause another human being distress on purpose. If they distressed me, then I would go back to blogger only comments. Moderation is a joke. Moderation is a way to save face. You still have to read the comments to moderate them, thus defeating the purpose of never reading all that crap.
Well, anyways, I am going to get back to responding to comments today. It actually takes a lot of work to do. And it keeps me tied to this computer. I have to take them piecemeal or I wouldn’t do it. As the emails come in, I have take one comment at a time or I would get overwhelmed. But I want to give back to my readers, and some of you mean so very much to me and have been with me for years. I am also TERRIBLE at email and my friend Liz is the only person I can seem to keep up a viable email exchange with. Comments is my way of communicating so back to communicating it is.
The State of Smokeville…
Dad gave me a rare compliment last night.
“You’re cigarette consumption has been cut in half,” he told me, thanking me.
Dad personally pays for my cigarettes to help conserve my disability allotment. He has been ordering them wholesale using his business license through the pharmacy. He took this on himself. I would rather pay for the cigarettes out of my own money as this just further complicates our often tumultuous relationship.
“I smoke only one cigarette every thirty minutes,” I replied proudly. “It makes a pack last ten hours.”
At one point, I was smoking three packs a day. I chained smoked – one after another. It was extremely frivolous and overboard – just another symptom of my obsessive compulsive nature. Now? I watch that clock! LOL I savor every cigarette as it only comes twice an hour, but it makes smoking so much more pleasurable. I like to think of myself as being part of a noble cause to save money and expense. It reminds me of the monks in the monasteries that would live austere lives to bring them closer to Christ and God. My lessened smoking brings me closer to my father.