Remember this time

Posted: December 4, 2009 in Uncategorized

It’s quite apparent that I did not learn my lessons from four years go. Or, at least, I don’t remember such lessons. How quickly one forgets what one subjects oneself to, and how quickly we are reminded when we hop back on a path that will lead to the same place.

Four days ago, I began my adventure to quit smoking. Minus my seven month hiatus in 2005, I have been a smoker (and I mean smoker, not this, “I just smoke when I drink” shit…a real Joe Camel) for about 18 years. I have been smoking as long as a person generally waits to vote. I have been smoking, technically speaking, for an entire generation. So, this past Tuesday, for a litany of reasons, I decided to give it up. And give it up I have.

Now, mind you, I’m not quitting cold turkey. I have my nicotine gum, my fancy toothpicks, my bud, and most of all, my Wellbutrin. For those of you not in the know, Wellbutrin is a mild antidepressant that helps to take the edge off your homicidal feelings towards your fellow man (or cats, or dogs, or pigs, whom/whatever gets in your way). It has some less-than-desirable side effects though, like my sweaty palms, and this dull throb in my skull and shitty taste in my mouth. But, hey, other than that, it’s just fucking peachy.

All of these aides (aids? whatever. shut up.) aside, I am still not in the best of moods. Okay, that’s putting it mildly. All of these aides (aids? whatever. shut up.) aside, I still want to rip off someone’s head, poke out his (or her) eyes, and use her(or his) skull at a bowling alley. Then of course I think to myself, “why would I want to go to a smokey bowling alley,” and I get mad all over again. This murderous feeling has lead me to this, the need, the idea to write down how I feel (dear diary).

Just in case I ever decide to torture myself again, let this serve as a reminder to how quitting smoking makes me feel:

  • Anxious-Like, I can’t sit still. Ever. I find myself just standing at home just for the sake of standing. It’s creepy. And my dogs don’t like it. And my legs get tired. And then I just get pissed. And then I just want to smoke.
  • Angry-At you, at me, at the old man trying to cross the street on his Segway. At…EVERYONE.
  • Moody-It’s not the same as angry, though anger is certainly one of the moods. My mood swings have been so extreme that you would think I’m a monkey.
  • Insomnia-This one I don’t remember. But, no need to forget it this time. I haven’t had a solid night’s sleep all week. And thanks to Wellbutrin, any sleep I do get is racked with fucked up dreams that I can’t remember because I’m a stoner.
  • Lethargic-Which is weird, because, well, I’m anxious, but yet I don’t really want to do anything. Except beat someone up. And since I’m not very big, this is probably not a good idea. Though I am quick. Like a lemur.
  • Hungry-For what you might ask? Anything (except seafood…I still don’t like seafood so stop fucking asking me if, and then why, I don’t like it). Everything (see previous comment). If I can digest it, I want to eat it (see the comment one more time). But then, after I eat, what do I want to do? Smoke.
  • Tense-One takes the relaxing quality of a cigarette for granted. Until one quits. Then one remembers. And then one’s shoulders become a giant knot of muscles. Which, of course, makes me want to smoke.
  • Hacky-This is actually probably pretty good. My lungs have been hacking up some shit from God knows how long ago. I think I saw a piece of the Titanic in one of my loogies. I’ll take a picture next time.
  • Sad-I miss you Camel. But I hate you. Leave me the eff alone.

I know this probably isn’t the funniest post, but I really don’t give a shit what you think about it. So if it’s not funny, suck my balls and keep it to yourself. If it is funny, suck my balls and keep it to yourself. Please.

At least I haven’t forgotten my manners.

It’s easy to quit smoking. I’ve done it hundreds of times.
–Mark Twain



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