Simea and the Cutoffs

First of all, I want to apologize for that last post this morning. I shouldn't have written/posted it. It was one of those things I wrote for the sake of writing it, and I shouldn't have insulted you all with it. Fluff... and I will do my best not to do that again.

I went for a run today and while I was running was thinking about smoking, and the blog, and all kinds of random shit,...and I started thinking about why I wrote such a dumb post and I realized...it's like Simea and the Cutoffs.

Sit. Relax. Listen. I tell great story in Russian accent.

Once upon a time I was in elementary school, and at that time my mother had done two things to seriously ruin my image, and scar me for life. Things that to this day, I have never really ever gotten over (clearly as I'm blogging about them years later). The first, being that she wouldn't buy me jean cut-offs....short shorts...daisy dukes...whatever you want to call them... and this was the 80's/90's... the decade of acid wash and colored jeans and Madonna... and I begged her for them and she wouldn't do it. Something about if I wanted jeans that were ripped I could rip up ones I already had... Mothers... they just... don't get it sometimes.

The second thing, was there was a girl who lived around the corner. Her name was Simea. She was huge (and not in a Michael Jackson or Madonna type way), and we went to elementary school together. She was in third grade, when I was in first, but she probably should have been in 6th grade, and she was about 6 times my size. I know everything in first grade looks huge but she really was.... Her grandmother (who she lived with) owned a cat and had about 500 TV Guides... and they had Captain Crunch sitting on the table every day. My mother bought Grape Nuts okay.... oatmeal was like a special occasion at our house so Captain Crunch was no small deal.

Anyway, I always wanted to hang out with Simea. She was huge, mean, and kids didn't like to fuck with her because she would always kick their ass. (I'm sorry there is seriously no better way to put that). My mother had other ideas...she didn't like that I wanted to hang out with her and she had her reasons. For one thing, I was Simea's only friend, and she kicked MY ass. Seriously. That was the only time I've actually gotten beat up and I don't remember anything except that I was thrown several feet in the air because I made some smartass comment... looking back... I realize how little has changed.. Anyway, I thought...of all the things...you want me to grow up close minded, and not hang out with big bullies, and wear short shorts.... and all I want to do is get through school looking cool and not being fucked with...and mom just put her foot down. So I always thought...that makes no sense... why wouldn't you want me to be exposed to all kinds of people...don't you want me to be open minded...and love everyone equally? Dont you want me to be cool with cool shorts? No? Really? Okay well...that sucks for me.

But I get it now. Now that I've quit smoking. I get that she was (as all mothers should be) trying to protect me. From bullies, from bad trends...from whatever... and yet...I didn't care. I wanted to be bad ass in all areas. She wanted me to be safe and so how this relates how... to the dumbass post you ask?

Well I got to thinking about my mental state this morning. I've been getting up early, writing this blog, and bitching quite frankly about how bad it sucks to quit smoking...and I mean...it does definitely suck but this morning...it really didn't. This morning I felt good, and it kinda scared me because I thought if I have nothing to complain about...what the fuck am I gonna write?!@ Well...it's like if I don't have cutoffs and get to hang out with bullies... then what will I have to complain about? So here I am...feeling like a champion dumbass... and hoping that you won't hate the fact that I'm not exactly struggling today... (at least not with not smoking)... it's more of a "smoke still smells good to me but not driving me insane" kinda day.

And for what it's worth... I still swear I'll never look down at someone just cause they're smoking. (Unless of course they're sitting and I'm standing ;)