This piece of writing and all of the words dedicated to it are in addendum to my original writing and words called FUCKING CIGARETTES. If you have not read “Fucking Cigarettes” you may want to do so before reading any further.
Yesterday I was sitting in my sanctuary of peace and tranquillity, getting ready for a big day of client sessions, website work and Facebook fun. Then out of the blue, a cloud of second-hand smoke drifts into and up my motherfucking nose. The only drop of patience that I get every day, turns itself into a comedian and uses joking as a form of teaching. She yells out to the smoker, down the hall, through a bedroom and onto the balcony, jokingly, “Is something on fire out there? And if so, can you please put it out or at least close the sliding glass door?”
Within seconds, I hear the sliding glass door close. And I feel pretty proud of the achievement I had achieved with my joke, my sense of humor, and my little drop of patience that had just been entirely used up, at least for the day.
The other thing I had forgotten to mention, is that I have asked for this sliding glass door to be closed on more than several occasions within the last couple of weeks. Having to even ask at this point is fucking ludacris as far as I am really concerned.
Then the second time I smell the second-hand smoke waft into my sanctuary of peace and tranquillity, and without my drop of patience available to me anymore, my joking becomes laced with sarcasm and spite. “Can you please shut the fucking sliding glass door? I have clients today and I do not need your fucking smoke ruining my goddamn vibe of holding space for people who need my help!”
I then hear the sliding glass door close.
Then the third time I smell the second-hand smoke drift like a fucking force of planned enemy attack straight into my nose, and with my long ago drop of patience gone, my attempt at joking and any level of sanity I may have once owned is now pepper-sprayed with sarcasm, spite, malice and threats of harm. “If you cannot fucking close the fucking sliding glass door every single goddamn fucking time you even think about lighting that fucking cigarette on fire, I will come out there with a can of fucking gasoline and light your motherfucking ass on fire myself! DO YOU FUCKING HEAR ME OUT THERE YOU MOTHERFUCKER?”
I then hear the sliding glass door close.
By the fifth or even sixth time that the horrendous attack on my motherfucking sensitive nose, by not an "unconscious" smoker by this time, but a FULLY aware and conscious motherfucking smoker, because how can he be anywhere near unconscious of what he is doing, in which I have no fucking problem bringing to his motherfucking mind and attention within three seconds flat…how in the hell can this NOT be conscious? How can he by now not be doing this ON purpose? With full knowledge, awareness and now PURPOSE of freaking me the fuck out? Especially when I am in here in my sanctuary helping people who NEED MY MOTHERFUCKING HELP?
So then... patience, joking, sarcasm, spite and malice all become replaced with the DEVIL... who screams at the top of her motherfucking “not-filled-with-smoke-lungs-but-instead-full-of-wrath-and-death” lungs, so that not just the neighbors, but the whole fucking neighbourhood could hear…
“LISTEN HERE YOU STUPID UNCONSCIOUS MOTHERFUCKER! IF YOU LIGHT ONE MORE FUCKING CIGARETTE ANYWHERE NEAR ME OR MY SENSITIVE MOTHERFUCKING NOSE, IN WHICH YOU KNOW HOW GODDAMN SENSITIVE IT IS BECAUSE YOU HAVE READ ALL OF MY MOTHERFUCKING BLOGS… IF YOU LIGHT ONE MORE GODDAMN CIGARETTE, I WILL FUCKING LIGHT YOU ON FIRE AND THAT IS THE TYPE OF SMOKE I WOULD LOOK FORWARD TO FUCKING SMELLING! DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND ME ONCE AND FOR ALL, OR DO YOU WANT ME TO COME OUT THERE? OR WOULD YOU LIKE TO PACK YOUR MOTHERFUCKING BAGS AND MOVE THE FUCK OUT OF HERE RIGHT FUCKING NOW? BECAUSE I WILL CANCEL MY NEXT CLIENT AND HELP YOU FUCKING PACK!”
Needless to say, I hear the sliding glass door close again and I do not smell cigarettes for the rest of the motherfucking day. I smile, breathe, tell the DEVIL within “THANK YOU” and I tuck her safely back inside of my mind, where the ANGEL in me goes back about her busy day of work, website and fun.
Then this morning, Motherfucker, wants to pick up the doggie and take it to the beach. It is a beautiful sunny day and I have plenty of time to do that before my day of client sessions begin. So we pick up the doggie and head to the beach. There is a Jazz Festival on and the streets are closed, so we park and walk three miles to get to the beach, and I don’t mind because I need the exercise, it’s a beautiful walk through a national park, the sun is shining and everyone on Hastings Street is abuzz with the happenings of the Jazz Festival celebrations well underway.
When we get to the beach, there is no one there, because of the parking situation. I’m quite happy about this because in my world, oftentimes, other people are hell. I truly and consciously prefer my own company and being alone. And the fact that Motherfucker was and is in my life, was and is because I truly enjoy his company and his energy. He has a really big heart and not only does he show it and can I feel it, he is just simply IT. And I like IT, because what he is and where he comes from is so totally not what I am and where I come from. His presence is like an injection of heaven in my life, though at the same time, this slice of heaven comes with a cloud of fucking cigarette smoke.
Welcome to my world…
So we are down on the empty beach and I am feeling a bit sleepy as the sun is seeping into my tired body. Moonsomnia has been intense for the past month, from the previous full moon of July to the last full moon in August, which was just a few days ago. Finally, and I do mean fucking finally, the moon let me go and let me sleep just two nights ago. And boy, did I need it. And I still feel a bit like my ass is dragging, so lying face down on my aqua beach sheet was just perfect before my busy day of clients and whatever else I decided to get up to today. So I am just lying there, minding my own business when all of the sudden, a cloud of cigarette smoke infiltrates my motherfucking nose. And whatever drop of patience I had depleted yesterday had apparently NOT been topped up by this time of today. I jumped up and off of that sheet like a bitch on fire and burned holes of hatred straight into his motherfucking SOUL….
“ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS? WE ARE ON A GODDAM DESERTED BEACH AND YOU CAN SMOKE ANYWHERE AND I MEAN ANYWHERE, AND INSTEAD, YOU SMOKE RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NEXT TO ME AND MY MOTHERFUCKING NOSE? HOW FUCKING UNCONSCOUS ARE YOU? AND I AM THE BITCH? WELL, THIS BITCH IS FUCKING LEAVING AND YOU CAN FUCKING WALK HOME!”
From zero to BITCH. From Zero To KILL a motherfucker DEAD.
I simply put my clothes back on, grabbed my bag and walked away without a care in the world or a glance backwards. And as I walked the three miles through the forest and down Hastings Street to get back to HAPPY, my car, I wrote this blog in my head and now I am here in my sanctuary writing it to share it with you.
And I thought about the point of writing it and sharing it with you, and there are many points and levels of points, conscious, unconscious and subconscious, though I will share one or two with you now...
First of all, I received a lot of positive feedback from my blog FUCKING CIGARETTES (though I'm still waiting to hear back what my Mom thinks about it! Hi Mom! Still waiting!) and people who have been dealing with a similar kind of sensitive nose that I have, and they are relieved to find someone that can talk about what they go through with pure un-abandoned honesty. I feel YOU!
And second, if anyone out there does not have good boundaries or are not consciously choosing what they will and will not accept in their world, this is the green light to go ahead and look at that shit. GO YOU!
And third of all, if there are any unconscious smokers that are reading this right now (Hi! I'm Tamara Motherfucking Rennie! Nice to meet you!), then maybe this is their opportunity to become more conscious about it, and unconsciously stop pushing people away from them that they truly love or care about.
So as I am sitting here writing this, Motherfucker walks in. And he is quiet in his walking in. And then he comes into my sanctuary all sweaty and red and huffed and puffed after walking way more than three miles home and up a pretty steep hill at that (HeHe!) and asks me, seriously, really fucking seriously, “Why did you just leave like that?”
Like SERIOUSLY? I was just speechless there for a moment. And this is what I mean about unconscious smokers. Like HOW does he just NOT get it? I so do not totally and I mean totally and utterly under-motherfucking-stand this. Nope. Not at all. Not at motherfucking all. So I simply said, “I told you exactly why,” which was actually in my patient voice, which told me that my drop had been restored! Yay! And that may very well be what has NOW been used up…oh my! At least for today! So then Motherfucker and his look of confusion decides to not ask me anymore questions, especially since I turned my focus back to writing this, and he just left.
And as of right now, I do not smell any smoke coming in from the balcony.
Peace Pipes & American Pie,
TAMARA MOTHERFUCKING RENNIE
Intergalactic Intuitive Investigator
Photo Credit: INDULGY
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