Skip to main content

"Smashed"

The book "Smashed" written by Koren Zailckas is a memoir  about her abuse of alcohol throughout her teenage and young adult years.  "Smashed" is an amazing account of alcohol addiction and what it is like to be a young person involved in such an addiction.  Zailckas starts her memoir going all the way back to her junior high years when she had her first drink.  She remembers how that drink made her feel and how when other girls her age found out that she drank, they too wanted to partake, and therefore she was seen has the “cool kid”.  Her high school years lead to more drinking and partying, and eventually a trip to the hospital due to alcohol poisoning.  However, the hospital trip was not enough to make her rethink her drinking habits.  She went on to college where the drinking got even worse, but in Zailckas's mind, she was just doing what every other college student does.  Zailckas eventually realizes her drinking is out of control, but not before she is involved in date rapes, horrible hangovers, and tragic losses of friends...among many other not so serious, but quite damaging ordeals.

This book is amazingly written and a wonderful account of what it is like to be a young girl with a drinking problem.  Zailckas has a way with her words and makes the reader feel as if they too are in her position during certain times in the book.  While I was reading this book, I could most certainly relate to some of the things Zailckas discusses, especially when she talks about her time in bars.  I too had a love affair with the social drinking and bar patronage in my younger years.  I could stay out all night and drink huge amounts and still be able to go to work in the morning.  Eventually, like Zailckas, I was able to see the error in my ways, but I must say, had I read this book back then it would have been of a tremendous help.  In other words, if you or someone you know has a problem with social drinking, I would suggest this book.  I would also suggest this book to anyone who is up for a good read!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

An Essay

WOW, I haven't posted in quite some time. For my last class as a grad student, I'm taking a Creative Non-Fiction Class. Here is a draft of the first essay I've written...enjoy my awkwardness :) Clumsy ( awkward in movement or action; without skill or grace ) Lying on my bed, petting my littlest cat Kia, I smell the patchouli wax I’m burning. Ah, relaxation…I swing my leg around and my foot catches a full diet soda can and knocks it to the ground, all over the carpet and my dirty clothes basket. Not again, I thought, why am I so damn clumsy? Then I proceeded to clean it up, put the clothes in the washer, and go about my day. To say I am clumsy is an absolute understatement, as this kind of situation happens to me on a daily, if not more often, basis.

The Girl in the Chair

The accident happened about a year ago. The girl didn’t know that she wasn’t supposed to eat the peanut butter that was in the bowl on the counter. The family had been experiencing rodent problems and the mother heard that putting peanut butter on the mouse traps was a good way to catch those little bastards. Just to be sure, she decided that she would mix rat poison in with the peanut butter. Little did she know her eldest daughter would walk into the kitchen while she was out in the garage gathering the mousetraps.

The Heaviest Sword

“Belief is a beautiful armor, but makes for the heaviest sword” – John Mayer             What makes us believe in something? Why do we feel that we must believe in anything? Is there anyone out there who truly believes in nothing?  Or better yet, is there anyone in the world who truly believes in something?              Most children believe in Santa Claus.  I never did.  I pretended to for the sake of my parents, but by the time I was six years old, I told them I didn’t believe in him.  Many of my friends believed in Santa well beyond six years old and I didn’t let them know I knew the truth. I did often wonder how my friends never caught on though. Maybe they did and were just pretending, as to not ruin anyone else’s belief in the magic of good ole St. Nick.