The Story no one will care to tell but I
I think that we are soldiers, off in a distant country, fighting for our way back home. God is the wife, husband, child, parent, friend, citizen that stays at home and sends us love and care in the mail. We send back when we can. If the fight is hard, it may be a while before we can overcome our enemy on the inside to return something home. God, however, sends us just what we need when we're down and out. He sends something everyday.
Today's trip to Starbucks was the same as always: I always leave feeling sick to my stomach! Coffee does not settle with me well. But today, I had no coffee. 'Twas reality that made me ill. After my therapy appointment (we talked about movies :) ), I was heading home when I was invited to go to Starbucks with some friends that will not be identified. Two people were already there when I arrived, two more followed. Regardless of time of arrival, all had already lit up their cigarettes by the time I was comfortably seated.
Among some, there was reluctance to smoke in front of me. In others, there was complete and utter apathy. I thought "What the hell? Might as well be myself around my own friends!" I asked for a cigarette and payed fifty cents for it (the person kept saying they were so expensive). That made them laugh. I took the cigarette between my two fingers. My friend started extending the lighter in front of me. Then, without hesitation, I ripped the cigarette down the middle. The lighter was quickly retracted. That didn't make them laugh. To me, that was my essence.
I didn't mean to offend them. It was half-non-aggressive statement, half-curiousity as to the components of a cigarette. I'd never seen one open. Nothing remarkable. I was surprised to find that the filter was simply treated cotton. But I wasn't concerned with that so much. A few more friends had joined, all from Strake and SAA. My friends, classmates. But I now focused on the vulgarity of the conversation going around. Harsh and crude, the only talk was of illicit and licentious activity. A friend not present was mocked and called a prude for simply not being fond of drinking alcohol. And the word "prude" was handled cautiously but scornfully, a heavy and heinous title of despicability among this close circle of friends. I joined in when I could, but this was not my kind of discussion.
I was grateful then that someone sent me a text message, unfortunately cancelling our movie plans, but at least giving me an excuse to leave. I swear my lungs felt heavy. I bid everyone adieu and calmly walked away.
I got home, took every piece of clothing off of and put it in a separate laundry basket, away from less dirty clothes that still had a chance to be completely cleansed. I darted into the shower and scrubbed every inch of my body. I washed my hair twice, then stepped back and turned the nozzle so that scalding water poured out. My smoky nostrils filled with steam, clean and refreshing, but not enough: I could still smell smoke. I pushed myself into the stream of steaming liquid for a few seconds and filled my nose with the water. As an avid swimmer, I knew this was quite possibly the most uncomfortable thing I could do to my face. But it would work. I smelled the iron tang of my blood rushing to my singed nostrils. I stepped out of the shower, satisfied. I put on new clothes and came downstairs. That's when I smelled it again: smoke.
Even now, I smell it. When something happens that affects me, I usually do not write about it immediately. I will reflect on it and sometimes I will remember it at a later time and toss it up on LiveJournal. I'm writing now because I can't do the first necessary thing in the process; and that is forget the event. It happened a mere hour ago! I am not shocked or disgusted, nor am I indignant or spiteful. I conversed freely with my friends and acquaintances from school. In fact, I am surprised by my apathy. I feel some pity for them, but it is a very minuscule amount.
I will not criticize them. It is their choice to do whatever they want to their bodies. I laughed at what I thought was funny during our chat and did not hamper my friends' good time. I had to experience that. I needed to know what it was like, to see it with my own eyes.
And no one can tell you it's not sad to see your friend who smokes and drinks behind parents' backs. No one can tell you it's not crippling to see your friend smoke their lungs out, already at high risk of cancer because of a mother who had it. I have a reason not to smoke: life. Can you imagine how high my risk of cancer is? Besides, I'm an avid swimmer. I already feel like I can't make it across a pool with all this smoke in my lungs, and that's with just being around smokers for thirty minutes at most!
Today's experience has somewhat depressed me. I don't want to do anything right now. I saw Lauren Thomas for the first time in a long while today. Call and we will do something. That's all there is to it: we will do something. It couldn't be simpler if it was written in Algebraic variables. Ugh, anyone will do! At first I was somewhat unaffected, but now, it just hit hard. I had a massive conversion of sorts the other day. I realized very clearly what I kind of things in life I enjoy. This has led to a moral "revamp." I am going to confession before school starts and I am repenting for all of my habits that have caused me great pain. If anything, today was a care package from God, showing me what I'm missing with my friends at Starbucks; not much. Now, virtue, by contrast is brilliant! I'm going to be one who wins his battles and comes back to camp everyday to write home to my God.
I prayed for my friends in the shower today. I know that their lives are messes right now. And I really wish that they could see that there is more to life than what they have let themselves have. I wish they could see what I see.
Getting rid of the smoke was bittersweet, because I knew that I'd be the only one out of that group of friends to do it.
- Grant Callender
Today's trip to Starbucks was the same as always: I always leave feeling sick to my stomach! Coffee does not settle with me well. But today, I had no coffee. 'Twas reality that made me ill. After my therapy appointment (we talked about movies :) ), I was heading home when I was invited to go to Starbucks with some friends that will not be identified. Two people were already there when I arrived, two more followed. Regardless of time of arrival, all had already lit up their cigarettes by the time I was comfortably seated.
Among some, there was reluctance to smoke in front of me. In others, there was complete and utter apathy. I thought "What the hell? Might as well be myself around my own friends!" I asked for a cigarette and payed fifty cents for it (the person kept saying they were so expensive). That made them laugh. I took the cigarette between my two fingers. My friend started extending the lighter in front of me. Then, without hesitation, I ripped the cigarette down the middle. The lighter was quickly retracted. That didn't make them laugh. To me, that was my essence.
I didn't mean to offend them. It was half-non-aggressive statement, half-curiousity as to the components of a cigarette. I'd never seen one open. Nothing remarkable. I was surprised to find that the filter was simply treated cotton. But I wasn't concerned with that so much. A few more friends had joined, all from Strake and SAA. My friends, classmates. But I now focused on the vulgarity of the conversation going around. Harsh and crude, the only talk was of illicit and licentious activity. A friend not present was mocked and called a prude for simply not being fond of drinking alcohol. And the word "prude" was handled cautiously but scornfully, a heavy and heinous title of despicability among this close circle of friends. I joined in when I could, but this was not my kind of discussion.
I was grateful then that someone sent me a text message, unfortunately cancelling our movie plans, but at least giving me an excuse to leave. I swear my lungs felt heavy. I bid everyone adieu and calmly walked away.
I got home, took every piece of clothing off of and put it in a separate laundry basket, away from less dirty clothes that still had a chance to be completely cleansed. I darted into the shower and scrubbed every inch of my body. I washed my hair twice, then stepped back and turned the nozzle so that scalding water poured out. My smoky nostrils filled with steam, clean and refreshing, but not enough: I could still smell smoke. I pushed myself into the stream of steaming liquid for a few seconds and filled my nose with the water. As an avid swimmer, I knew this was quite possibly the most uncomfortable thing I could do to my face. But it would work. I smelled the iron tang of my blood rushing to my singed nostrils. I stepped out of the shower, satisfied. I put on new clothes and came downstairs. That's when I smelled it again: smoke.
Even now, I smell it. When something happens that affects me, I usually do not write about it immediately. I will reflect on it and sometimes I will remember it at a later time and toss it up on LiveJournal. I'm writing now because I can't do the first necessary thing in the process; and that is forget the event. It happened a mere hour ago! I am not shocked or disgusted, nor am I indignant or spiteful. I conversed freely with my friends and acquaintances from school. In fact, I am surprised by my apathy. I feel some pity for them, but it is a very minuscule amount.
I will not criticize them. It is their choice to do whatever they want to their bodies. I laughed at what I thought was funny during our chat and did not hamper my friends' good time. I had to experience that. I needed to know what it was like, to see it with my own eyes.
And no one can tell you it's not sad to see your friend who smokes and drinks behind parents' backs. No one can tell you it's not crippling to see your friend smoke their lungs out, already at high risk of cancer because of a mother who had it. I have a reason not to smoke: life. Can you imagine how high my risk of cancer is? Besides, I'm an avid swimmer. I already feel like I can't make it across a pool with all this smoke in my lungs, and that's with just being around smokers for thirty minutes at most!
Today's experience has somewhat depressed me. I don't want to do anything right now. I saw Lauren Thomas for the first time in a long while today. Call and we will do something. That's all there is to it: we will do something. It couldn't be simpler if it was written in Algebraic variables. Ugh, anyone will do! At first I was somewhat unaffected, but now, it just hit hard. I had a massive conversion of sorts the other day. I realized very clearly what I kind of things in life I enjoy. This has led to a moral "revamp." I am going to confession before school starts and I am repenting for all of my habits that have caused me great pain. If anything, today was a care package from God, showing me what I'm missing with my friends at Starbucks; not much. Now, virtue, by contrast is brilliant! I'm going to be one who wins his battles and comes back to camp everyday to write home to my God.
I prayed for my friends in the shower today. I know that their lives are messes right now. And I really wish that they could see that there is more to life than what they have let themselves have. I wish they could see what I see.
Getting rid of the smoke was bittersweet, because I knew that I'd be the only one out of that group of friends to do it.
- Grant Callender