Filed under: Humor
In Who I Was, Who I Am, and Who I Want to Be, JT Pigspittle tells the almost too-remarkable-to-be-true story of his rise from villain to hero, including his struggle to overcome his sexual voraciousness, his troubled relationship with his wife and children, and his addiction to drugs, all of which lead him to a life of crime and to rehab, where he found redemption and the strength and wisdom to write this cautionary memoir about the power and resiliency of the human condition.
This blurb courtesy of the Memoirizer. [via Maud Newton]
Filed under: General Angst
I’m three—count ‘em, three—days away from quitting smoking. I’ve been obsessively-compulsively distracting myself from lighting up every 15 minutes. Among my other (#1 is noted below) distractions: walking, sewing, shopping, sleeping. Writing is not a distraction; hence, the lack of blogging. Writing makes me want to smoke. But let’s not think about that right now. (more…)
Filed under: Politics
Fifty students representing the 2007 Presidential Scholars were invited to hear President Bush speak about No Child Left Behind yesterday and took the opportunity to speak their minds. The group gave Bush a handwritten letter that said, in part:
Dear Mr. President,
As members of the presidential scholars class of 2007, we have been told that we represent the best and the brightest of our nation. Therefore, we believe that we have a responsibility to voice our convictions.
We do not want America to represent torture. We urge you to do all in your power to stop violations of the human rights of detainees, to cease illegal renditions, and to apply the Geneva Conventions to all detainees, including those designated enemy combatants.
Gives me hope for the future.
Filed under: Science
Finnegan is a momma’s boy, Kobe is manipulative, Bennie is a goofball, and Babu is loving but oh so needy. And according to researchers, I’m not entirely off-base in ascribing human qualities to our four adorable pets. As reported in the June 18th issue of Newsweek International, a variety of studies have shown animals to exhibit personality traits. For example, “researchers in the North Carolina State University genetics department found some flies to be consistently more aggressive than others—they made more threats and dished out more physical abuse, going so far as to kick and push others (yes, flies can kick).”
[Hence, the reappearance of our Superfly image with this story.] Studies in animal behavior are already aiding in drug research for humans—because, after all, it’s all about us. “By putting animals with specific personalities (aggressive or passive, for example) into specific situations (isolation or a social setting) and testing them, researchers could help determine how personality traits influence responses to disease and medications.” Ultimately, scientists may be able to use animals to understand how genes and environment influence personality.
Not exactly Atlantis, but… A small farm town in Australia that was flooded in 1957 to create a hydro-electricity project has reemerged after a drought. Remains of tractors, buildings, bottles, farm machinery, and other items have been uncovered as the water recedes and the dam drains. The London Telegraph offers a pictorial essay—click on the “In Pictures” link—of the lost town of Old Adaminaby.
Filed under: About Pigspittle
When I lived in Boston years ago, I briefly worked for an architectural graphic design firm. One of my jobs was to buy flowers each week for the office—and come back with a receipt. I usually bought them from a florist, but one day I was in Downtown Crossing and decided to buy a bouquet from a flower stand. As I always did, I asked for a receipt. The proprietor didn’t have a cash register and so he gave me a handwritten receipt. It said, “Flowas, $5.00.” Flowas: the Bostonian phonetic spelling.
My flower garden is my primary distraction from smoking (other than eating and sleeping, which are increasingly impinging on my flower time). I actually made a list of every plant in the garden because it was getting close to nightfall and I couldn’t really do anything outside and I needed to do something to distract myself for an hour. I listed more than 50 varieties of flowers, shrubs, and herbs. To further distract myself as nightfall nears, I am typing them out here.
Filed under: General Angst
I’m talking about cigarettes.
When I told a colleague that I was taking two weeks off to quit smoking, she said, “I don’t think I can have an original thought without a cigarette.” It summed up my fear and loathing precisely.
Quitting smoking is like cutting off my hands—not just one hand, but both of them. How will I drink coffee? What will I do after I eat? How will I get out of bed in the morning? Why would I get out of bed?
I tried quitting, sort of, a couple of months ago. I started taking that new drug Chantix (the name makes me think of “shanty”) that blocks the nicotine-loving receptors in the brain. While it did wonders for the craving in between cigarettes, I still had to deal with the psychological addiction. And I was irrationally angry about everything. The minute work became stressful, I caved.
So I’m trying again. This time, I’m taking two weeks at Spa Pigspittle (aka home), hoping that I can use my spurts of anger more efficiently—maybe taking it out on the lilac bush that I need to trim. And sleeping. If I could just sleep my way through the next two weeks and wake up without wanting a cigarette…
Today, I smoked only 19 cigarettes in 24 hours. If you’re appalled, take note that I’ve been smoking at least 30-35 cigarettes a day for an embarrassing number of years. I miss the 11 cigarettes I didn’t smoke today already.
Baby steps.
Filed under: Life, in general
A thunderstorm is rolling through as I write this. God, how I love a good thunderstorm. My dad used to set up the lawn chairs in the garage and we watched storms run through, counting the seconds between thunder claps and lightning: One Mississippi, two Mississippi…
When I hear the Doobie Brothers’ “Long Train Runnin’”or Mason Williams’ “Classical Gas,” I think of tornadoes. It’s because we listened to the radio during tornado warnings, hightailing it to the basement laundry room.
Better stop now before the power goes out…
Filed under: Writing
Once again, led astray by gremlins in my computer, I didn’t get to spend the day writing as I had hoped. Sigh.
Instead, I will leave this poem by Rumi:
Zero Circle
Be helpless, dumbfounded,
Unable to say yes or no.
Then a stretcher will come from grace
to gather us up.
We are too dull-eyed to see the beauty.
If we say we can, we’re lying
If we say No, we don’t see it,
that No will behead us
And shut tight our window onto spirit.
So let us rather not be sure of anything,
besides ourselves, and only that so
miraculous beings come running to help.
Crazed, lying in a zero circle, mute,
we shall be saying finally,
with tremendous eloquence, Lead us.
When we have totally surrendered to that beauty,
we shall be a mighty kindness.
Filed under: Science
Sweet Dreams. Men are more likely to dream about sex in public places and with multiple partners than women, according to researchers at the University of Montreal. The study, presented at the Associated Professional Sleep Societies’ Sleep 2007 conference in Minneapolis this past week, is the first to look at sexual content in dreams in more than 40 years.
WebMD, reporting on the study, writes that “for men and women alike, sexual dreams accounted for 8% of all reported dreams.”
“Men’s sexual dreams were more likely to take place in public or unknown settings, to have the dreamer initiate sexual contact, and to involve unknown characters or multiple partners,” wrote Antonio Zadra, PhD, who conducted and authored the study, adding that “gender differences in the content of everyday sexual dreams may reflect people’s waking needs, experiences, attitudes, and concerns with respect to sexuality.”
Have insomnia? Here’s something else to keep you up at night. UPI reports that insomniacs pay more in health care and cost more to their employers than those who have no problems sleeping. “Insomnia is associated with a substantial cost of illness, which can be a large financial liability to employers,” Richard Brook, director of business development for the JestaRx Group of Newfoundland, N.J., told UPI at the Sleep 2007 conference.
According to research by the JestaRx Group, the “average cost of health benefits for employees with insomnia is $6,240 compared with an annual cost of $3,015 for employees who do not have the sleep disorder.“
UPI also notes that a second study presented at the conference, by Kathleen Foley, a researcher for Thomson Medstat in Ann Arbor, Mich., “found that patients with insomnia spend about $1,000 a year in out-of-pocket healthcare charges while patients who don’t have the sleep disorder spend about $448 a year.”
Unadjusted health costs paid for insomnia patients were more than three times higher—$8,978 as opposed to $2,790 for employees who did not have trouble getting to sleep, according to UPI’s reporting. [via Science Daily]
Filed under: Childhood
—MC Paul Barman
Yesterday’s tern joke from Puddlehead made me think about Jonathan Livingston Seagull, the quintessential ’70s blockbuster book by Richard Bach. Released in 1970, it became nearly as ubiquitous as the smiley face would a year later. The novella is about a seagull who is more interested in flying than in the feeding frenzy that consumes an average seagull’s day. But Jonathan is no average seagull; he has a mission: to learn everything he can about flying. He obsessively practices, leading his fellow gulls to shun him for his frivolous passion. Eventually he flies so high that he enters another plane, so to speak, meeting other gulls who share his ideals.
In retrospect, it was a schmaltzy paean to self-discovery in which every other page screams, “Metaphor ahead!” But at the time, it was delightfully epiphanic for my father. He loved this book. He wanted everyone else to read it. My pop embarked on one of those weird little side trips most of us take in life sooner or later—the kind that makes loved ones scratch their heads and worry if an intervention is imminent. In my dad’s case, he soaked up the ’70s self-help movement like Silly Putty™ on the Sunday comics. (more…)
