During my smokerdom (smokerhood? smokership?), at many points I thought about things I thought I should be doing to improve myself. Two examples are exercising (specifically swimming) and wearing contact lenses again.
I am far from being obese. Just a bit flabby. I would say I have a "beer belly," (although I've hardly drank any beer for the last few years), "love handles," and a "hank" (the fat under the chin).
A lot of excuses led back to smoking. I didn't have the lung capacity to endure a lot of physical exercise. Swimming seemed to me to be the ideal cardiovascular workout, because you seem to use most of the muscles in your body and there is no hard impact on your bones and joints like there is in running, for example. A big part of being able to swim is to deal with the breathing limitations. It's difficult to breathe during physical exercise, and one has to concentrate to develop some sort of new breathing pattern that is in harmony with the movement. Swimming restricts the breathing even more so, since at many points in each movement the mouth and nostrils may be submerged in water, or are about to be, or at least being splashed.
I used to wear contact lenses, but over time, I weaned off of them until I wore glasses full time.
My vision is so poor that I don't qualify for the reportedly comfortable soft lenses. I was prescribed rigid gas-permeable lenses. These are smaller than the iris.
When my eyes dried up, which was often, the lens would slip off the iris and lodge itself in the corner of my eye. These tiny, concave discs would stick in areas of the eye that are flatter than the curvature of the iris, allowing the sharp edges of the lens to iritate the whites and corners of my eyes.
Painful and disorientating and therefore dangerous, as this always seemed to happen while I was driving.
This worsened as my smoking increased in frequency. In order to smoke while I drive, I had to have the windows down. Smoke and wind drying up the eyes.
Even worse, I was going to bars more often. In those days, smoking was allowed. My eyes didn't stand a chance.
My god, right now it's so difficult to imagine hanging out in a place so filled with so much smoke, and enjoy myself. Honestly, even as a chain smoking feind, I was glad when they banned smoking in bars. It's so much better to smoke in a ventilated area. I'm sure for people who live in areas where it get rains a lot, or actually snows, it might have been difficult...
Anyway, the contact lenses spent more and more time in their sensory deprivation chambers. Soon enough, they were abandoned for good, as I upgraded to more sturdy frames for my incredibly thick glasses.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Friday, September 4, 2009
I haven't posted in a while, but I feel like I would just be posting the same content as my previous entry.
The cravings are still happening. It's almost like a resurgance. It's just part of the evil plan. "You're treating with the Devil."
This would be easier to understand if I had cheated at some recent point; snuck in a cig' here, bummed a drag there. But I haven't. No nicotine in any form.
A quitter just has to keep the guard up at all times...for the remainder of life, apparently.
The cravings are still happening. It's almost like a resurgance. It's just part of the evil plan. "You're treating with the Devil."
This would be easier to understand if I had cheated at some recent point; snuck in a cig' here, bummed a drag there. But I haven't. No nicotine in any form.
A quitter just has to keep the guard up at all times...for the remainder of life, apparently.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Still Craving!
After 5 months I still get cravings. F**king still.
A couple times a week, I'll feel an overwhelming urge to grit my teeth and smash something, during which I realize that I'm having a craving for nicotine.
A few days ago, while waiting for my lunch, I had the gnarliest craving I've had in months.
Back when I was smoking (heh), I was in the routine of clocking out for lunch and going to the roach coach to order my food. Then I would light up and be able to smoke about half the cig' before my food was ready.
To be outside was to be able to smoke. Therefore, waiting until after I ordered the food put a teasing delay on my noon nicotine. Normally I would light up as soon as daylight hit my head.
So it was there, right after ordering my food, as I still do every week day, that this craving belted me.
All I can do is inhale deeeeeeep lungs-full of air, exhale....inhale, long and deep...exhale; feeling a reminder of the improvement in my lung capacity.
A couple times a week, I'll feel an overwhelming urge to grit my teeth and smash something, during which I realize that I'm having a craving for nicotine.
A few days ago, while waiting for my lunch, I had the gnarliest craving I've had in months.
Back when I was smoking (heh), I was in the routine of clocking out for lunch and going to the roach coach to order my food. Then I would light up and be able to smoke about half the cig' before my food was ready.
To be outside was to be able to smoke. Therefore, waiting until after I ordered the food put a teasing delay on my noon nicotine. Normally I would light up as soon as daylight hit my head.
So it was there, right after ordering my food, as I still do every week day, that this craving belted me.
All I can do is inhale deeeeeeep lungs-full of air, exhale....inhale, long and deep...exhale; feeling a reminder of the improvement in my lung capacity.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
The Joys of Not Smoking: Jury Duty
Well, that's not quite right. There aren't so much joys of not-smoking. There's no joy in not smoking itself.
Joy can only be derived from not smoking in contrast to smoking; or rather being a smoker.
Now, during the quitting process, not smoking is actually excruciatingly painful, while smoking is the only and direct relief from that agony. The rewards of quitting smoking are very slow in creeping in, after months of anguish, in direct opposition to the immediate rush of relief when that first suck of smoke hits the lungs.
In this period* of abstinence from smoking, I've found myself in a few situations that really make me really appreciate the fact that I quit**. I've got to savor those feeling and ingrain them, because these are some of the things that will strengthen my mind in preventing relapse.
One shining example was...jury duty.
I had jury duty recently. Although it was nice to not be at my usual dead end day job, I was lucky to only have to actually show up to the court house for one day.
My assigned courthouse was in a community where even the rat holes have burglar bars. It is a 13 storey building, with 5 out of 6 very slow elevators operational. The stairs are off limits except in emergencies, and the user does not determine what constitutes an emergency. If a stairwell is entered, there is immediate, armed response.
It's not too bad at 7:30am, but after about 2 hours, the place is packed with all kinds people, none of whom are happy to be there. Many are expressing this, and may look at you as if you are responsible.
All of these people cram in the hot elevator waiting room, waiting for one of the tortoise-drawn elevators to return from it's journey around the sun. You've got power suited lawyers; drunk/stoned, tattood gangsters; entire families bawling post-verdict; police; junkies/tweakers; average joes, etc, etc, all trying to cram in this room to get on the next elevator. Since they seem to arrive so few and far between, it is necessary to pack bodies in to each car like sardines.
Needless to say, it is something anyone can die happy without having experienced.
Now, what about smoking? Well, if you want to smoke you have to go outside. Like on the balcony? The roof? What, no smokers' lounge? Nope. The only way is to deal with the elevator situation.
I can't imagine having to deal with that every time I needed a smoke. And I constantly needed a smoke. Well, actually I can imagine it. It just would have been torture, all day long. I would either be sitting in there jonesing like hell, dreading the attendant tribulation of the elevator journey. Or actually enduring it. After finally being down and outside to smoke, with all the nice folks hanging out there; by the time I got back up to the waiting room, it will have taken so much time I will be ready for another cigarette.
As I pondered, remembered and imagined all of this, the waiting room at jury duty surpassed comfortable and approached the luxurious.
--
* By this period, I refer to a time where the agony of withdrawel has subsided to a tolerable level, but I don't yet necessarily feel entirely invulnerable to relapse.
** I feel the need to clarify that when I claim to have quit nicotine, I say so with the understanding that I will be on a slippery slope for the remainder of my life. Just as an alcoholic is eternally addicted to booze, I am in danger of reverting back immediately and deeply into smoking at any time.
Joy can only be derived from not smoking in contrast to smoking; or rather being a smoker.
Now, during the quitting process, not smoking is actually excruciatingly painful, while smoking is the only and direct relief from that agony. The rewards of quitting smoking are very slow in creeping in, after months of anguish, in direct opposition to the immediate rush of relief when that first suck of smoke hits the lungs.
In this period* of abstinence from smoking, I've found myself in a few situations that really make me really appreciate the fact that I quit**. I've got to savor those feeling and ingrain them, because these are some of the things that will strengthen my mind in preventing relapse.
One shining example was...jury duty.
I had jury duty recently. Although it was nice to not be at my usual dead end day job, I was lucky to only have to actually show up to the court house for one day.
My assigned courthouse was in a community where even the rat holes have burglar bars. It is a 13 storey building, with 5 out of 6 very slow elevators operational. The stairs are off limits except in emergencies, and the user does not determine what constitutes an emergency. If a stairwell is entered, there is immediate, armed response.
It's not too bad at 7:30am, but after about 2 hours, the place is packed with all kinds people, none of whom are happy to be there. Many are expressing this, and may look at you as if you are responsible.
All of these people cram in the hot elevator waiting room, waiting for one of the tortoise-drawn elevators to return from it's journey around the sun. You've got power suited lawyers; drunk/stoned, tattood gangsters; entire families bawling post-verdict; police; junkies/tweakers; average joes, etc, etc, all trying to cram in this room to get on the next elevator. Since they seem to arrive so few and far between, it is necessary to pack bodies in to each car like sardines.
Needless to say, it is something anyone can die happy without having experienced.
Now, what about smoking? Well, if you want to smoke you have to go outside. Like on the balcony? The roof? What, no smokers' lounge? Nope. The only way is to deal with the elevator situation.
I can't imagine having to deal with that every time I needed a smoke. And I constantly needed a smoke. Well, actually I can imagine it. It just would have been torture, all day long. I would either be sitting in there jonesing like hell, dreading the attendant tribulation of the elevator journey. Or actually enduring it. After finally being down and outside to smoke, with all the nice folks hanging out there; by the time I got back up to the waiting room, it will have taken so much time I will be ready for another cigarette.
As I pondered, remembered and imagined all of this, the waiting room at jury duty surpassed comfortable and approached the luxurious.
--
* By this period, I refer to a time where the agony of withdrawel has subsided to a tolerable level, but I don't yet necessarily feel entirely invulnerable to relapse.
** I feel the need to clarify that when I claim to have quit nicotine, I say so with the understanding that I will be on a slippery slope for the remainder of my life. Just as an alcoholic is eternally addicted to booze, I am in danger of reverting back immediately and deeply into smoking at any time.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
Does it ever really end?
Kowalski, progress report!
It's been 3 weeks since my last nicotine lozenge (132 days since my last cigarette).
I'm still having cravings.
Does it ever really end?
They say that an alcoholic will always be an alcoholic. There is no cure; only abstinence and recovery. Is it the same for nicotine addicts?
It's been 3 weeks since my last nicotine lozenge (132 days since my last cigarette).
I'm still having cravings.
Does it ever really end?
They say that an alcoholic will always be an alcoholic. There is no cure; only abstinence and recovery. Is it the same for nicotine addicts?
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Snus!
In reading about an overseas acquaintance of mine, I came across a brief survey.
When asked about his nasty habits, he answered, "Snus."
~~~~~~~~
Before I continue, I must digress with an aside: What the hell is a snu?
Well, snus is not the plural form of snu. Snus (which rhymes with noose, not snooze) is (not are) Swedish snuff. Camel now offers it in the U.S. as little packets, similar to the ol' Skoal Bandits. The difference with snus is that allegedly, you don't have to spit out the juice. So you can pretty much pop one between your cheek and gum anytime/anywhere and nic' up fairly unnoticed.
~~~~~~~~
He and I have some basic things in common, and my imagination fills in the gaps so that I can relate to (my perception of) his story.
We both are males of the same age with 1 child and very generally have similar lines of work, temperament, self-esteem, etc.
In continuing to weave a fictitious tale based on my personal interpretation of little factual knowledge, I would say:
He smoked cigarettes before his daughter came along. He tried to quit, and found it to be beyond his power, as most of do; especially under the stress of being a slacker/artistic type suddenly expected to transform into a bread-winning father.
Snus was right there waiting; such a simple solution! No need to go through the never ending hell of withdrawel; you don't have to quit; you just switch over to snus. No second hand smoke to damage your family's lungs with; no foul smells in the air, on your clothes, apolstery, etc. Even the disgusting constant necessity to spit out the juice into a makeshift spitoon that comes with chewing tobacco or dip is gone!
I just barely slipped past the snus trap. Just (in falsetto:) baaaaaaarely.
When I bought what was to be my final pack of cigarettes, I was given a free promotional gift by the clerk behind the mini-market counter. It was a little tin of Camel Snus. Brand new product; try it!
I was scared of it, for some reason.
I think I was afraid because I didn't know how to guage the intake/impact. I thought I might overdose on nicotine, and feel sick. I wouldn't go without a cigarette for long enough to clear my system enough to take nicotine in an additional form.
Also, I sensed (imagined) some evil about it, but I couldn't put my finger on it. It just seemed to be another way to get people addicted. With many of the stigmas associated with smoking removed through this product, tobacco companies can still thrive and reap profits in a world where smoking might actually decline.
I feel lucky I chose to quit when I did, and that I used the lozenges rather than snus. Snus arrived in my awareness at a very critical time. If I had given in to try it, I would have definitely switched over to it. To the rest of the world, I could say, "I quit smoking!" but really I just switched products.
Obviously, I did, in fact, switch products; from cigarettes to lozenges. What would be the difference if I had switched to snus instead of lozenges? Well, I believe that the lozenges contain less nicotine, but more importantly less of all the other toxic chemical additives that enhance the tobacco products making them more addictive. I think the lozenges are less addictive and therefore somewhat less difficult to quit taking.
The idea of the nicotine replacement is the same as methadone for junkies, I believe. The replacement is only supposed to be temporary. One makes` the switch in order to get off the hard stuff immediately without one's body being shocked too drastically. You are switching to a less dangerous alternative to ease the severity of withdrawel symptoms. But eventually you have to stop taking the replacement to truly be a successful quitter.
When asked about his nasty habits, he answered, "Snus."
~~~~~~~~
Before I continue, I must digress with an aside: What the hell is a snu?
Well, snus is not the plural form of snu. Snus (which rhymes with noose, not snooze) is (not are) Swedish snuff. Camel now offers it in the U.S. as little packets, similar to the ol' Skoal Bandits. The difference with snus is that allegedly, you don't have to spit out the juice. So you can pretty much pop one between your cheek and gum anytime/anywhere and nic' up fairly unnoticed.
~~~~~~~~
He and I have some basic things in common, and my imagination fills in the gaps so that I can relate to (my perception of) his story.
We both are males of the same age with 1 child and very generally have similar lines of work, temperament, self-esteem, etc.
In continuing to weave a fictitious tale based on my personal interpretation of little factual knowledge, I would say:
He smoked cigarettes before his daughter came along. He tried to quit, and found it to be beyond his power, as most of do; especially under the stress of being a slacker/artistic type suddenly expected to transform into a bread-winning father.
Snus was right there waiting; such a simple solution! No need to go through the never ending hell of withdrawel; you don't have to quit; you just switch over to snus. No second hand smoke to damage your family's lungs with; no foul smells in the air, on your clothes, apolstery, etc. Even the disgusting constant necessity to spit out the juice into a makeshift spitoon that comes with chewing tobacco or dip is gone!
I just barely slipped past the snus trap. Just (in falsetto:) baaaaaaarely.
When I bought what was to be my final pack of cigarettes, I was given a free promotional gift by the clerk behind the mini-market counter. It was a little tin of Camel Snus. Brand new product; try it!
I was scared of it, for some reason.
I think I was afraid because I didn't know how to guage the intake/impact. I thought I might overdose on nicotine, and feel sick. I wouldn't go without a cigarette for long enough to clear my system enough to take nicotine in an additional form.
Also, I sensed (imagined) some evil about it, but I couldn't put my finger on it. It just seemed to be another way to get people addicted. With many of the stigmas associated with smoking removed through this product, tobacco companies can still thrive and reap profits in a world where smoking might actually decline.
I feel lucky I chose to quit when I did, and that I used the lozenges rather than snus. Snus arrived in my awareness at a very critical time. If I had given in to try it, I would have definitely switched over to it. To the rest of the world, I could say, "I quit smoking!" but really I just switched products.
Obviously, I did, in fact, switch products; from cigarettes to lozenges. What would be the difference if I had switched to snus instead of lozenges? Well, I believe that the lozenges contain less nicotine, but more importantly less of all the other toxic chemical additives that enhance the tobacco products making them more addictive. I think the lozenges are less addictive and therefore somewhat less difficult to quit taking.
The idea of the nicotine replacement is the same as methadone for junkies, I believe. The replacement is only supposed to be temporary. One makes` the switch in order to get off the hard stuff immediately without one's body being shocked too drastically. You are switching to a less dangerous alternative to ease the severity of withdrawel symptoms. But eventually you have to stop taking the replacement to truly be a successful quitter.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Weight Gain
Gee, I quit smoking and didn't gain weight. Wow.
Oh, wait...I replaced cig's with lozenges. Now that the lozenges are gone, how do I reward myself with little cheap thrills every couple of hours a day?
I think if I'm to be a stereotypical quit-smoking-weight-gainer, it will begin now.
Goddamn, I want a lozenge right now. Just some little tingly buzz. Something!
If I was to take a drink or smoke marijuana, it wouldn't help. Rather than distract me, it would increase the desire for nicotine, as well as break down my resistance. Drinking always breaks down discipline, and makes you susceptible to saying "f**k it" to any responsiblity.
I chew these little pillow-shaped pieces of sugarless gum. I buy the little plastic jars of them. They help with the oral fixation to some small degree, but nothing is ever enough.
I just carry on, day after day, hoping the desire will fade; that I'll get over it, or at least get used to it.
Oh, wait...I replaced cig's with lozenges. Now that the lozenges are gone, how do I reward myself with little cheap thrills every couple of hours a day?
I think if I'm to be a stereotypical quit-smoking-weight-gainer, it will begin now.
Goddamn, I want a lozenge right now. Just some little tingly buzz. Something!
If I was to take a drink or smoke marijuana, it wouldn't help. Rather than distract me, it would increase the desire for nicotine, as well as break down my resistance. Drinking always breaks down discipline, and makes you susceptible to saying "f**k it" to any responsiblity.
I chew these little pillow-shaped pieces of sugarless gum. I buy the little plastic jars of them. They help with the oral fixation to some small degree, but nothing is ever enough.
I just carry on, day after day, hoping the desire will fade; that I'll get over it, or at least get used to it.
Monday, July 6, 2009
1 Week Nicotine Free
I am now 1 week nicotine free.
I reached a point in my nicotine replacement program and plateaued.
To summarize:
For the first 4 weeks or so, I used one 4mg lozenge every 1.5 to 3 hours.
Then I switched to the 2mg (lower strength) lozenges, but didn't change the schedule. Or if I did, I soon drifted back into the same frequency.
And there I remained for well after the 12 week mark (which is the time by which one should have systematically weaned off entirely)...16 weeks, I believe. =shrug=
When I ran into friends, I told them that I quit smoking, and that now I'm addicted to nicotine lozenges instead. There seemed no end in sight.
I knew it would be at some unforseen moment where circumstances coincide with a thrust of willpower. But when would this arise, and how could I make it or help it happen?
The stars aligned on a Tuesday (like the day I stopped cigarettes), June 30th. The unconnected events of nicotine supply depletion and becoming terribly ill (extreme nausea followed by violent vomiting, leading into the flu) paved the way for me to lay off the lozenges for a bit.
This is how lemonade is made.
As long as I could keep the temptation of buying a new pack of lozenges at bay, I could try to hold out and rough it. Just a few more days, and the worst of the painful cravings will pass; or so I have read.
So, here I am, a week later. Still having flashes of cold sweats every 1/2 hour or so. Still snapping into extreme anger over the slightest annoyance. Still craving at least one of the chemicals that became such an integral part of my physiology for about 2 decades.
But, hey! I'm 1 week nicotine free!
I reached a point in my nicotine replacement program and plateaued.
To summarize:
For the first 4 weeks or so, I used one 4mg lozenge every 1.5 to 3 hours.
Then I switched to the 2mg (lower strength) lozenges, but didn't change the schedule. Or if I did, I soon drifted back into the same frequency.
And there I remained for well after the 12 week mark (which is the time by which one should have systematically weaned off entirely)...16 weeks, I believe. =shrug=
When I ran into friends, I told them that I quit smoking, and that now I'm addicted to nicotine lozenges instead. There seemed no end in sight.
I knew it would be at some unforseen moment where circumstances coincide with a thrust of willpower. But when would this arise, and how could I make it or help it happen?
The stars aligned on a Tuesday (like the day I stopped cigarettes), June 30th. The unconnected events of nicotine supply depletion and becoming terribly ill (extreme nausea followed by violent vomiting, leading into the flu) paved the way for me to lay off the lozenges for a bit.
This is how lemonade is made.
As long as I could keep the temptation of buying a new pack of lozenges at bay, I could try to hold out and rough it. Just a few more days, and the worst of the painful cravings will pass; or so I have read.
So, here I am, a week later. Still having flashes of cold sweats every 1/2 hour or so. Still snapping into extreme anger over the slightest annoyance. Still craving at least one of the chemicals that became such an integral part of my physiology for about 2 decades.
But, hey! I'm 1 week nicotine free!
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Using illness as excuse to quit lozenges?
I haven't had a nicotine lozenge in about 3.5 days.
Seems ignorable if I were to go out and buy some today or tomorrow.
It wasn't necessarily a conscious choice to stop using them. [What the hell do we call it any way: taking them? Using them? Sucking on them?] I just got horribly sick that day.
Around lunch time, I started feeling nauseous and generally, physically strange. Coincidentally, I had run out of lozenges. I started feeling sick before the usual after-lunch lozenge-popping time.
Well the sickness ran it's course: nausea to violent vomiting binge to fatigue to aches to chills to hot (back'n'forth) to headache to...better!
So now, I am feeling spells of cold sweats, but now I know it's the lack of nicotine. I'm feeling it now as I type it, and I'll probably feel it every hour (at least) for the next few days.
Can I do it? Can I actually be not only cigarette free (yes, I still have not smoked since March '09), but NICOTINE free!?
Stay tuned....
Seems ignorable if I were to go out and buy some today or tomorrow.
It wasn't necessarily a conscious choice to stop using them. [What the hell do we call it any way: taking them? Using them? Sucking on them?] I just got horribly sick that day.
Around lunch time, I started feeling nauseous and generally, physically strange. Coincidentally, I had run out of lozenges. I started feeling sick before the usual after-lunch lozenge-popping time.
Well the sickness ran it's course: nausea to violent vomiting binge to fatigue to aches to chills to hot (back'n'forth) to headache to...better!
So now, I am feeling spells of cold sweats, but now I know it's the lack of nicotine. I'm feeling it now as I type it, and I'll probably feel it every hour (at least) for the next few days.
Can I do it? Can I actually be not only cigarette free (yes, I still have not smoked since March '09), but NICOTINE free!?
Stay tuned....
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
I hate it!
It's the last day of Week 12 of my cigarette abstinence.
The first day of the 12th week is the first day I should be nicotine free entirely. I was expected to have successfully weened off the lozenges at that point. I'm still stuck at around the success level of a 2 Weeker. And I f**king hate it.
Every time I reach for a lozenge and pop it free of it's blister pack, I feel the subtle excitement in taking a form of action to achieve a level of relief from some vaguely nagging feeling.
Shortly after, I feel a pressure in my chest, a slight nausea and acid indigestion burn. This is followed by a feeling of disgust, and self loathing.
I'm angry that I'm stuck here in this quagmire. The comfort of knowing that I'm not taking in the deadly smoke has faded.
Someone told me, or I read somewhere, something about how long it takes for a habit to imbed itself. I believe the idea was that if I do something for 20 days or so, the habit will stick, or 20 days without and the habit will loosen...or...what the hell am I talking about!? I can't even think straight right now, as the burning in my stomach is increasing.
Aaarrrrgghhh!!! I hate it!
All of it!
I've actually moved backward. I got to a point where I could go 2-3 hours between lozenges (to be clear, I mean the time between putting one in my mouth to putting the next one in my mouth; not between one being dissolved/spit out and popping in the next one). Now, although, I occasionally go 3 hours between, it's usually 2 hours or less. Sometimes I can only go an hour before dropping the next.
I hate it. And I just can't seem to apply the discipline to get back on track; to force myself to wait longer. I need another quantum leap.
The first day of the 12th week is the first day I should be nicotine free entirely. I was expected to have successfully weened off the lozenges at that point. I'm still stuck at around the success level of a 2 Weeker. And I f**king hate it.
Every time I reach for a lozenge and pop it free of it's blister pack, I feel the subtle excitement in taking a form of action to achieve a level of relief from some vaguely nagging feeling.
Shortly after, I feel a pressure in my chest, a slight nausea and acid indigestion burn. This is followed by a feeling of disgust, and self loathing.
I'm angry that I'm stuck here in this quagmire. The comfort of knowing that I'm not taking in the deadly smoke has faded.
Someone told me, or I read somewhere, something about how long it takes for a habit to imbed itself. I believe the idea was that if I do something for 20 days or so, the habit will stick, or 20 days without and the habit will loosen...or...what the hell am I talking about!? I can't even think straight right now, as the burning in my stomach is increasing.
Aaarrrrgghhh!!! I hate it!
All of it!
I've actually moved backward. I got to a point where I could go 2-3 hours between lozenges (to be clear, I mean the time between putting one in my mouth to putting the next one in my mouth; not between one being dissolved/spit out and popping in the next one). Now, although, I occasionally go 3 hours between, it's usually 2 hours or less. Sometimes I can only go an hour before dropping the next.
I hate it. And I just can't seem to apply the discipline to get back on track; to force myself to wait longer. I need another quantum leap.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Week 11
I'm just upon 11 weeks without smoking tobacco.
According to the original 12 week plan, I should be nicotine free a week from now.
Not gonna happen.
The only change in my nicotine lozenge dosage is that I switched from the 4mg to the 2mg. But I still "need" them about every 2 hours, on average. By "need," I guess I really mean "crave, and take one to satisfy that craving."
I don't think that is any significant, boastworthy progress.
So, I'm still not saving any money by not smoking. But I'm saving my lungs, so, hey!
I just need to work my way back to a point of strict discipline to take the steps that I was supposed to a few weeks ago. And at least I haven't really moved backward.
According to the original 12 week plan, I should be nicotine free a week from now.
Not gonna happen.
The only change in my nicotine lozenge dosage is that I switched from the 4mg to the 2mg. But I still "need" them about every 2 hours, on average. By "need," I guess I really mean "crave, and take one to satisfy that craving."
I don't think that is any significant, boastworthy progress.
So, I'm still not saving any money by not smoking. But I'm saving my lungs, so, hey!
I just need to work my way back to a point of strict discipline to take the steps that I was supposed to a few weeks ago. And at least I haven't really moved backward.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Bill Bruford on Quitting...Smoking.
I came across a passage regarding smoking and the quitting thereof in the recently released autobiography of innovative, British, jazz/rock drummer Bill Bruford.
When you try to give up nicotine, you're treating with the Devil. I thought the deal was that if you gave up, the desire to smoke would also leave you, so that you wouldn't have to give up again every day. Somehow you took it as read that if you gave up so did the craving. But the Devil saw me coming and sucked me right in. Oh, I gave up, but the delicious smell, feel, and touch of a cigarette remained as firmly embedded as ever.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Out the Window
In the Daily Tabouleh, Danny shares a smoking-related thought:
Unfortunately this answer will never satisfy any non-smoker's curiosity.
Before I dig in to this, please note that I consider someone who tries smoking, smokes "socially," or smokes regularly for less than, say, a year a non-smoker, in a polar generalization.
There is one big question, and millions of questions branching and rooting from that trunk.
A non-smoker cannot understand why a smoker exists at all. There is no logical, intelligent reason for anyone to smoke cigarettes, given sufficient information about the product. If the point of smoking itself is senseless, than why bother questioning the logic of any of the user's attendant habits?
I mean, how does a smoker know he has a "cough," as in when one's gets a cold?
Well, guess what? He knows. There are many, minute, physiological changes in the body. Listening to a smoker cough, noone else would know the difference. We (were) always coughing, hacking and hocking every waking moment, as if we were sick anyway. It all sounds the same to those around us. The sick cough and the "smoker's cough" just feels different, and we internally feel and taste the difference. There is a different taste in the throat and mouth, a slightly different muscular pull, a different tickle in a different area of the throat, different phlegm content and consistancy, etc.
Now, the ash tray issue is similar in some regards.
To a non-smoker, cigarette smell is just one, foul smell. Cigarette smoke stinks, and everything exposed to it stinks.
But cigarettes have many smells, that have differing intensities and half-lives (metaphorically speaking). There is the presently burning cigarette smoke itself, billowing out of the lit tip. This will choke anyone, and burn the eyes if it blows in one's face. Then there is the smell of the cigarette smoke indirectly. You smell it, but the actual smoke is not in your face. These scents are the more immediate, pungent smells. These smells diminish in intensity over various lengths of time. You can roll your windows down and 'air out' the car, and these will diminish.
Then there is the smell of the ashes. They have a more stale, stagnant dead smell. This is the smell that stays. If an ash tray is left full, you will continue to smell this. This same smell will be embedded permanently into the upholstery. Long after one quits smoking, and driven thousands of miles with the windows down, it will remain in the upholstery and carpet in the vehicle. Just sit shotgun in my ride and smell for yourself.
I'll cut this short. We're like dogs. Humans think poop stinks. Period. Dogs perceive all kinds of information from a variety of scents it perceives in a piece of doodie in a variety of locations and states of decay.
And I have no problem comparing cigarettes to fecal matter.
I am still wondering why people throw their cigarettes from their car out the window and not place them in an ashtray. If you are stinking up your car already and you reek of smoke, why are you littering?Good question, Danny. And there is an answer.
Unfortunately this answer will never satisfy any non-smoker's curiosity.
Before I dig in to this, please note that I consider someone who tries smoking, smokes "socially," or smokes regularly for less than, say, a year a non-smoker, in a polar generalization.
There is one big question, and millions of questions branching and rooting from that trunk.
A non-smoker cannot understand why a smoker exists at all. There is no logical, intelligent reason for anyone to smoke cigarettes, given sufficient information about the product. If the point of smoking itself is senseless, than why bother questioning the logic of any of the user's attendant habits?
I mean, how does a smoker know he has a "cough," as in when one's gets a cold?
Well, guess what? He knows. There are many, minute, physiological changes in the body. Listening to a smoker cough, noone else would know the difference. We (were) always coughing, hacking and hocking every waking moment, as if we were sick anyway. It all sounds the same to those around us. The sick cough and the "smoker's cough" just feels different, and we internally feel and taste the difference. There is a different taste in the throat and mouth, a slightly different muscular pull, a different tickle in a different area of the throat, different phlegm content and consistancy, etc.
Now, the ash tray issue is similar in some regards.
To a non-smoker, cigarette smell is just one, foul smell. Cigarette smoke stinks, and everything exposed to it stinks.
But cigarettes have many smells, that have differing intensities and half-lives (metaphorically speaking). There is the presently burning cigarette smoke itself, billowing out of the lit tip. This will choke anyone, and burn the eyes if it blows in one's face. Then there is the smell of the cigarette smoke indirectly. You smell it, but the actual smoke is not in your face. These scents are the more immediate, pungent smells. These smells diminish in intensity over various lengths of time. You can roll your windows down and 'air out' the car, and these will diminish.
Then there is the smell of the ashes. They have a more stale, stagnant dead smell. This is the smell that stays. If an ash tray is left full, you will continue to smell this. This same smell will be embedded permanently into the upholstery. Long after one quits smoking, and driven thousands of miles with the windows down, it will remain in the upholstery and carpet in the vehicle. Just sit shotgun in my ride and smell for yourself.
I'll cut this short. We're like dogs. Humans think poop stinks. Period. Dogs perceive all kinds of information from a variety of scents it perceives in a piece of doodie in a variety of locations and states of decay.
And I have no problem comparing cigarettes to fecal matter.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Fellow Strugglers and General Update
I have a larger post in the works, and it's taking a bit longer to get around to/finish then I thought, so I thought I'd check in.
Usually, such long lapses in communication from recovering addicts indicates that the "recovering" status has reverted back to "indulging."
Not in my case. I am in the middle of Week 9 without even a single hit off of a cigarette.
My lozenge addiction hasn't changed much. 5 days from now, I am supposed to cut back another step further to 1 lozenge every 4-8 hours, I believe. But, alas, I am in a quagmire of 1 lozenge every 2-3 hours, on average.
The other night, I hung out with 2 fellow nicotine addicts. One highly recommended using the lozenges to the other as an aid to quitting. He said it was a major help to him. But apparently, not enough. He said he was doing great for a few months, but stated he was back now, lighting up one of those flavorless cigarettes that makes you suck the hell out of it to feel any rush.
The other friend was excited to report that, after constant, thwarted attempts to quit, he has gone 4 days without cigarettes, cold turkey. Hooray! He recounted his morning struggles of flailing his arms and head about, in a mad scramble for the missing vice, fighting to make it through the diabolical first morning craving.
The problem is, he is also a recovering alcoholic with over a year of sobriety. He has had several near death experiences as a result of his drinking, and all his peers have been very proud of his daily triumph.
Coinciding with his abstenance from nicotine, was a tumbling from the wagon, and back into a routine of feebly concealed alcohol consumption.
Usually, such long lapses in communication from recovering addicts indicates that the "recovering" status has reverted back to "indulging."
Not in my case. I am in the middle of Week 9 without even a single hit off of a cigarette.
My lozenge addiction hasn't changed much. 5 days from now, I am supposed to cut back another step further to 1 lozenge every 4-8 hours, I believe. But, alas, I am in a quagmire of 1 lozenge every 2-3 hours, on average.
The other night, I hung out with 2 fellow nicotine addicts. One highly recommended using the lozenges to the other as an aid to quitting. He said it was a major help to him. But apparently, not enough. He said he was doing great for a few months, but stated he was back now, lighting up one of those flavorless cigarettes that makes you suck the hell out of it to feel any rush.
The other friend was excited to report that, after constant, thwarted attempts to quit, he has gone 4 days without cigarettes, cold turkey. Hooray! He recounted his morning struggles of flailing his arms and head about, in a mad scramble for the missing vice, fighting to make it through the diabolical first morning craving.
The problem is, he is also a recovering alcoholic with over a year of sobriety. He has had several near death experiences as a result of his drinking, and all his peers have been very proud of his daily triumph.
Coinciding with his abstenance from nicotine, was a tumbling from the wagon, and back into a routine of feebly concealed alcohol consumption.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Week 7: C+
Today is Day 45.
I still haven't given in.
But the impulses are still there, albeit with decreased frequency. There have even been a couple of occasions within the past 2 weeks, where I've said it aloud, "F**k, I wanna smoke a cigarette!!" That's probably normal for any abstinent addict to say. But for me, I don't want to smoke a cigarette; I just want the craving to subide. But these times, I did. I wanted to actually suck that carcinogenic smog through a vestigial filter...so...badly.
This passes soon enough.
But I have not been without failure.
Two days ago marked the beginning of Week 7. The significance of the 7th week is that, in accordance to the instructions accompanying the nicotine lozenges, I am to cut back on my dosage. What was 1 lozenge every 1 to 2 hours should now be 1 every 3-4 hours.
I have failed to make this adjustment. I still have one every 2 hours, on average. This only reinforces the notion that I have merely traded my medium, and my addiction remains.
To make an A+, I think I would have had to quit cold turkey, permanently, with no nicotine replacement therapy. I think I'm doing pretty well, but if I give myself a B, then I won't feel any need to work on my deficiency.
C+
I still haven't given in.
But the impulses are still there, albeit with decreased frequency. There have even been a couple of occasions within the past 2 weeks, where I've said it aloud, "F**k, I wanna smoke a cigarette!!" That's probably normal for any abstinent addict to say. But for me, I don't want to smoke a cigarette; I just want the craving to subide. But these times, I did. I wanted to actually suck that carcinogenic smog through a vestigial filter...so...badly.
This passes soon enough.
But I have not been without failure.
Two days ago marked the beginning of Week 7. The significance of the 7th week is that, in accordance to the instructions accompanying the nicotine lozenges, I am to cut back on my dosage. What was 1 lozenge every 1 to 2 hours should now be 1 every 3-4 hours.
I have failed to make this adjustment. I still have one every 2 hours, on average. This only reinforces the notion that I have merely traded my medium, and my addiction remains.
To make an A+, I think I would have had to quit cold turkey, permanently, with no nicotine replacement therapy. I think I'm doing pretty well, but if I give myself a B, then I won't feel any need to work on my deficiency.
C+
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
He and Phlegming
Here I am at 1 month, 3 days cigarette free.
I have noticed that my coughing has cleared up dramatically, which includes general "throat clearing."
I used to clear my throat constantly, throughout speech.
My Smoker's Cough was pretty bad. It was like a calling card. In fact, more than one former roommate told me they knew I had come home because they heard me cough. It was like a decrepit, indirect version of "Honey, I'm home!" (not that I'd ever refer to any roommate as "Honey" in anything other than jest).
Any childhood dreams of double-O'ing for MI6 or excelling in any ryu of Ninjutsu were dashed on the rocks by such self inflicted damage resulting from my addiction.
But then, James Bond was a smoker (see this link, although info not cited; or research for yourself). Perhaps not so much in the movies, as the years went on, as direct links to lung cancer and heart disease are more openly pointed out, and pressure to dissuade increased. (Also, beginning with The Living Daylights, he didn't get to bang as many chicks per movie, as AIDS awareness came into vogue.)
It must have been feared that 007, being the ultimate role model for awkward, pubescent males, may influence them to take up cigarettes themselves. That would be a much easier Bond characteristic to emulate than his other abilities, such as physical stamina, hand-to-hand combat, extreme snow skiing, or wooing the hottest women on the face of the earth into bed within 0-2 hours.
Show him killing and maiming thousands of people with impunity, fine. But God forbid we show him smoking.
How was he (for example) able to sneak up on security goons in silence? The answer: he is a fictional character. Simple as that. In reality, someone who "smokes sixty per day" could not be silent for long without at least some minute wheeze, especially after all the running, climbing, jumping to get there. Besides, he would bear a perpetual aura of stench that would portent his approach, silent or otherwise.
Oh, and forget about those scenes of holding his breath underwater for absurd lengths of time.
His creator was a heavy smoker as well. Interesting that the author's last name is Flemming, as well. (Get it? Smoking...makes you, heh, cough up phlegm? Heh.)
Anyway, the other thing that is just amazing me lately is that I can actually inhale long and deep.
I don't feel that my lung capacity has increased per se. It's just that, before, I could only take in a very small increment of air into my lungs without feeling a tickling in my throat. This tickling would instantly trigger a coughing fit.
So I find myself pausing to draw as much air as my lungs will hold and exhaling slowly, in wonderment. But, as I said, I still don't seem to be able to fill them to the level I feel they should be able to hold. But it's so great to do so without doubling over, coughing and hacking.
What I really need to do is begin some rudimentary, realistically-demanding cardiovascular exercise regimen. But, we'll see how that goes...
In conclusion, although the point of this entry is to acknowledge some improvement, I still have some coughing/hacking fits. For example, immediately after consuming my lunch today. But by comparison, such episodes come much, much less intensely/frequently. And besides, I've been warned that after quitting, one 's throat regains some sensitivity, and there is some purging to be had.
I have noticed that my coughing has cleared up dramatically, which includes general "throat clearing."
I used to clear my throat constantly, throughout speech.
My Smoker's Cough was pretty bad. It was like a calling card. In fact, more than one former roommate told me they knew I had come home because they heard me cough. It was like a decrepit, indirect version of "Honey, I'm home!" (not that I'd ever refer to any roommate as "Honey" in anything other than jest).
Any childhood dreams of double-O'ing for MI6 or excelling in any ryu of Ninjutsu were dashed on the rocks by such self inflicted damage resulting from my addiction.
But then, James Bond was a smoker (see this link, although info not cited; or research for yourself). Perhaps not so much in the movies, as the years went on, as direct links to lung cancer and heart disease are more openly pointed out, and pressure to dissuade increased. (Also, beginning with The Living Daylights, he didn't get to bang as many chicks per movie, as AIDS awareness came into vogue.)
It must have been feared that 007, being the ultimate role model for awkward, pubescent males, may influence them to take up cigarettes themselves. That would be a much easier Bond characteristic to emulate than his other abilities, such as physical stamina, hand-to-hand combat, extreme snow skiing, or wooing the hottest women on the face of the earth into bed within 0-2 hours.
Show him killing and maiming thousands of people with impunity, fine. But God forbid we show him smoking.
How was he (for example) able to sneak up on security goons in silence? The answer: he is a fictional character. Simple as that. In reality, someone who "smokes sixty per day" could not be silent for long without at least some minute wheeze, especially after all the running, climbing, jumping to get there. Besides, he would bear a perpetual aura of stench that would portent his approach, silent or otherwise.
Oh, and forget about those scenes of holding his breath underwater for absurd lengths of time.
His creator was a heavy smoker as well. Interesting that the author's last name is Flemming, as well. (Get it? Smoking...makes you, heh, cough up phlegm? Heh.)
Anyway, the other thing that is just amazing me lately is that I can actually inhale long and deep.
I don't feel that my lung capacity has increased per se. It's just that, before, I could only take in a very small increment of air into my lungs without feeling a tickling in my throat. This tickling would instantly trigger a coughing fit.
So I find myself pausing to draw as much air as my lungs will hold and exhaling slowly, in wonderment. But, as I said, I still don't seem to be able to fill them to the level I feel they should be able to hold. But it's so great to do so without doubling over, coughing and hacking.
What I really need to do is begin some rudimentary, realistically-demanding cardiovascular exercise regimen. But, we'll see how that goes...
In conclusion, although the point of this entry is to acknowledge some improvement, I still have some coughing/hacking fits. For example, immediately after consuming my lunch today. But by comparison, such episodes come much, much less intensely/frequently. And besides, I've been warned that after quitting, one 's throat regains some sensitivity, and there is some purging to be had.
Friday, March 6, 2009
The Sax Man
I had a friend who played saxophone. He was a schooled, versatile and passionate jazz player.
He smoked cigarettes, full time.
He also had experienced a collapsed lung.
Despite the above being enough, obvious incentive/deterant, in addition to desperately wanting to, he simply could not stop smoking.
Personally, due to my smoking damage, I have trouble blowing up balloons, or inflating floatation devices and without getting a massive head rush. I can only imagine blowing out several, sustained notes on brass or woodwind and getting light headed. Playing a whole concert, or hell, a whole song on stage, under the lights, I could easily pass unconscious.
Also, being an artistic type, he created a conceptual art piece / personal service announcement, which hung on the wall above the head of his bed.
His brand of choice was a menthol, named and packaged to seem 'upper crust.' I had a run at charring / crystalizing my own lungs with the same, taking influence from him.
This piece of art was a framed, goldenrod matte board about 36" wide by 24" tall. A number of his empty cigarette hard packs were glued to the matte board, in a formation spelling out, in large, capital letters, the word "NO."
It was baffling to many of his peers, especially the non-smokers, of course, why a saxophonist who had a collapsed lung (quite intelligent, to boot) could possibly continue to smoke.
This was one of my early, living illustrations of the severity of nicotine addiction.
The art piece, in all it's creative valiance, ultimately proved to be ineffectual. (He was also using 'the patch.')
He smoked cigarettes, full time.
He also had experienced a collapsed lung.
Despite the above being enough, obvious incentive/deterant, in addition to desperately wanting to, he simply could not stop smoking.
Personally, due to my smoking damage, I have trouble blowing up balloons, or inflating floatation devices and without getting a massive head rush. I can only imagine blowing out several, sustained notes on brass or woodwind and getting light headed. Playing a whole concert, or hell, a whole song on stage, under the lights, I could easily pass unconscious.
Also, being an artistic type, he created a conceptual art piece / personal service announcement, which hung on the wall above the head of his bed.
His brand of choice was a menthol, named and packaged to seem 'upper crust.' I had a run at charring / crystalizing my own lungs with the same, taking influence from him.
This piece of art was a framed, goldenrod matte board about 36" wide by 24" tall. A number of his empty cigarette hard packs were glued to the matte board, in a formation spelling out, in large, capital letters, the word "NO."
It was baffling to many of his peers, especially the non-smokers, of course, why a saxophonist who had a collapsed lung (quite intelligent, to boot) could possibly continue to smoke.
This was one of my early, living illustrations of the severity of nicotine addiction.
The art piece, in all it's creative valiance, ultimately proved to be ineffectual. (He was also using 'the patch.')
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Depression
I get that tingle in my nose. I feel the muscles and skin of my cheeks and mouth giving gravity leverage. A wave of despair fills in. For about 30 seconds I am crippled with a feeling of utter hopelessness and futility. A quick, flashing montage runs through my head of everything that has gone wrong, and all that can potentially go wrong in the areas of my life that are the most consequential.
It's like a rain cloud quickly accumulating, building and moving in the sky above my head. It reaches maximum density, and pours down right overhead.
And then, after less than a minute, it's gone, leaving everything the same as it was. I'm alive, I'm not smoking, and the world keeps turning.
Often the thoughts accompanying this emotional surge are vague enough to clue me in on the truth; these are merely symptoms of a chemical depression and a normal part of withdrawal for many abstaining smokers.
It's like a rain cloud quickly accumulating, building and moving in the sky above my head. It reaches maximum density, and pours down right overhead.
And then, after less than a minute, it's gone, leaving everything the same as it was. I'm alive, I'm not smoking, and the world keeps turning.
Often the thoughts accompanying this emotional surge are vague enough to clue me in on the truth; these are merely symptoms of a chemical depression and a normal part of withdrawal for many abstaining smokers.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
कोउघिंग एंड Hacking
The title of this blog entry is Coughing and Hacking.
This post was mysteriously published in Hindi. Not sure why. And I'm not sure why the word Hacking remained in it's native.
Never did it before, even with the transliteration option enabled. Paranaoia whispered that I'd been hacked, but that's absurd. Why? To redirect the avalanche of bounty invoked by my advertising revenue?*
Ok, back to business...cigs, nic, quitting...depression. That's next.
* Sarcasm.
This post was mysteriously published in Hindi. Not sure why. And I'm not sure why the word Hacking remained in it's native.
Never did it before, even with the transliteration option enabled. Paranaoia whispered that I'd been hacked, but that's absurd. Why? To redirect the avalanche of bounty invoked by my advertising revenue?*
Ok, back to business...cigs, nic, quitting...depression. That's next.
* Sarcasm.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
I'm f**king PISSED!
Man, I cannot imagine what it would be like without nicotine replacement products.
Like all smokers, I've experienced irritability when going on a stretch without a smoke. But it seems to be getting worse.
Here in week 2 of cig' abstinence, I'm finding myself stricken suddenly with pangs of anger. Out of nowhere, I will snap into an extremely irritable state. I will ruthlessly curse some absent scapegoat; invoking unforgivable, descriptive names for whoever has virtually stepped in my path.
For example, at work I may receive an email from someone. The message may contain an attachment that I am expected to do something with. If there is something wrong with the attachment, or I experience the slightest detail, I haul off in a rage of epithets. "You....f**king...A**hole! God damn your heart and soul to Hell, you f**king piece of sh*t!!!!" But it gets worse, or better depending how you look at it; much more harsh criticism / more creative insults.
Luckily, I suppress the urge to hit the reply button and start typing! I settle for muttering these things to myself, like Popeye the Sailor. But occasionally, my volume rises, and body gestures grow convulsed and more indicative of a volatile state.
I do sometimes wonder how far and clear my voice carries when I am in the throes of such spells of irritability; if any of the words hissing through my teeth were discernible by a coworker - especially a female - I could be fingered for "creating a hostile work environment."
Obviously, if I wasn't able to catch myself from actually directing my words at a present human being, I would lose my job on the spot. I really have to be careful.
So, for those people I hear about that quit "cold turkey," I salute you. Because for myself, being caught without some form of nicotine replacement at this point could land me in jail for assault, or the hospital for an assault that I provoked (via my own verbal assault) upon myself!
Like all smokers, I've experienced irritability when going on a stretch without a smoke. But it seems to be getting worse.
Here in week 2 of cig' abstinence, I'm finding myself stricken suddenly with pangs of anger. Out of nowhere, I will snap into an extremely irritable state. I will ruthlessly curse some absent scapegoat; invoking unforgivable, descriptive names for whoever has virtually stepped in my path.
For example, at work I may receive an email from someone. The message may contain an attachment that I am expected to do something with. If there is something wrong with the attachment, or I experience the slightest detail, I haul off in a rage of epithets. "You....f**king...A**hole! God damn your heart and soul to Hell, you f**king piece of sh*t!!!!" But it gets worse, or better depending how you look at it; much more harsh criticism / more creative insults.
Luckily, I suppress the urge to hit the reply button and start typing! I settle for muttering these things to myself, like Popeye the Sailor. But occasionally, my volume rises, and body gestures grow convulsed and more indicative of a volatile state.
I do sometimes wonder how far and clear my voice carries when I am in the throes of such spells of irritability; if any of the words hissing through my teeth were discernible by a coworker - especially a female - I could be fingered for "creating a hostile work environment."
Obviously, if I wasn't able to catch myself from actually directing my words at a present human being, I would lose my job on the spot. I really have to be careful.
So, for those people I hear about that quit "cold turkey," I salute you. Because for myself, being caught without some form of nicotine replacement at this point could land me in jail for assault, or the hospital for an assault that I provoked (via my own verbal assault) upon myself!
Monday, February 23, 2009
The Impulse points just keep comin' (movies & relatives)
I'm one day shy of 2 weeks without smoking. But The Impulse points keep coming. I'm still walking into scenarios in which my body is accustomed to lighting up, and it sucker punches me, still, each time.
I went to the movies for the first time since quitting, and I would always have to suck down a cig before entering and getting my ticket ripped. (It just occurred to me what a bummer it must be for whoever is stuck sitting next to my smoke-stinkey ass in the theatre!). After 2 hours, give or take, it was always so good to spark one up immediately after emerging from the theatre.
Man, I can taste/smell/feel it now!
There is this bogus feeling of having earned it by having sat so patiently for an entire movie stifling the urge to smoke; almost as if one were the hero of the movie, and deserves the reward afterward.
Also for the first time since quiting, I went to a modest family gathering. There, the norm was for a brother and I to regularly step out to the back porch for one-on-one conversation over a smoke (which he would refer to as a union meeting).
Now in both of these situations, I was not tempted to smoke by seeing and smelling others doing so; People milling about outside the theatre, puffing away, or my brother doing so next to me.
No, it was The Impulse; the physiological/psychological association of my body chemistry with those times, those sequences of events. It was an ingrained, programmed routine, in which smoking was an intregal part of -- even if these events came along every 3 months or so, rather than on a daily basis.
Another note on the cinema experience: Once a movie starts, I never get up to leave to do anything, if I can possibly help it. Not to pee, not to smoke, not to get a snack or drink. Although I did miss a climactic scene of the last Indiana Jones movie, because I had to piss so bad, it was physically painful to keep holding it. I really didn't want to leave the theatre, but it was a genuine emergency. And the movie kinda sucked anyway, so I didn't feel bad about missing the scene for more than a few minutes afterwards.
Anyway, since this was the first time going to the movies since I quit, or rather, the first time I went since I started my new habit of using nicotine lozenges, I did not prepare. It should have been easy, but I just didn't take it seriously enough.
All I needed to do was bring in some kind of cup to spit the nicotine teeming saliva accumulation into. This is a regular part of the process of ingesting the lozenges, so I knew a cup would come in handy.
But, ya know, it just seemed like a hassle. Where would I get a cup? I had a soda from a nearby restaurant, but they prohibited me from taking it into the theatre. So, then I could go ask for one at the consession stand. But then, I'd have to wait in line, which are usually long, only to have to explain that I only need an empty cup. This would spark the suspicion that I would be trying to obtain an empty cup for free, only to return for a "refill" to get a free soda. I don't want to pay for the damn cup. I imagine that the coorporate accounting department figures an amount to charge for an empty cup based on the frequency of soda sold, compared to soda inventory, etc. blah blah blah. I just didn't want to deal with it.
And, I certainly am not going to pick one out of the trash. It really wouldn't matter, because I would be spitting into the cup, rather than drinking out of it. But then, my lips often do touch whatever cup I take on as a disposable spitoon. And besides, why gross out my female companion more than I already do by this basic process?
So...I said "f**k it," and enjoyed the movie, and held out on popping in a lozenge as long as I felt comfortable doing so. Of course, I gave in about 3/4-the-way-through. I inserted one in my mouth, and stifled the urge to swallow as my mouth began teeming with the familiar foamy, saliva/nicotine juice.
Of course, the movie went on longer than I anticipated. A few times when I thought the credits would roll, a forgotten enemy would suprise attack, or another sub-epilogue would begin. My mouth was filling up to the point where my cheeks would be visibly puffed out, were the house lights to kick on.
The only alternative to holding it in was to eject the voluminous gob from my mouth onto the floor of the theatre. The theatre was scantily occupied, and the entire rest of the row to my left, including the row fore and aft, were unoccupied, so I could certainly get away with it unnoticed. But my conscience prevented me.
I figured on the way out I could spit it out in a trash can, but then, I didn't want anyone to see me, like my fellow exiting moviegoers, or the cleanup guy standing right next to the trash can. I would just feel like an a**hole. So, I figured it could wait until I got to the bathroom.
My wife made a joking speculation about the title of a possible sequel to the movie, and I instantly formed a title of my own in an attempted one-up reponse. But, if I opened my mouth to speak it, I would have gone Cujo and made an embarrassing, disgusting mess all over the front of my clothes, chin to toe.
So my little joke had to wait, as I gestured to her with a raised finger and inflated cheeks, that I must hold my tongue.
After the walk from the aisle, to the hall, to the big hall, to the bathroom, peeing, relinquishing my foamy burden, and rejoining her in the hall, the potency of my joke diminished significantly.
I told her my joke sequel title, but after the wait, both of us silently agreed that I had not one-upped hers.
---
On a serious note:
Luckily, my wife tolerates the unsavory, attendant idiosyncrasies of nicotine lozenge use. To do so, one must keep in mind that it is for the greater, long term good.
Watching one's betrothed spitting mouthfuls of foam on a regular basis for a couple/few months becomes quite tolerable compared to the concept of becoming a lung cancer widow in one's, say, 50's.
I went to the movies for the first time since quitting, and I would always have to suck down a cig before entering and getting my ticket ripped. (It just occurred to me what a bummer it must be for whoever is stuck sitting next to my smoke-stinkey ass in the theatre!). After 2 hours, give or take, it was always so good to spark one up immediately after emerging from the theatre.
Man, I can taste/smell/feel it now!
There is this bogus feeling of having earned it by having sat so patiently for an entire movie stifling the urge to smoke; almost as if one were the hero of the movie, and deserves the reward afterward.
Also for the first time since quiting, I went to a modest family gathering. There, the norm was for a brother and I to regularly step out to the back porch for one-on-one conversation over a smoke (which he would refer to as a union meeting).
Now in both of these situations, I was not tempted to smoke by seeing and smelling others doing so; People milling about outside the theatre, puffing away, or my brother doing so next to me.
No, it was The Impulse; the physiological/psychological association of my body chemistry with those times, those sequences of events. It was an ingrained, programmed routine, in which smoking was an intregal part of -- even if these events came along every 3 months or so, rather than on a daily basis.
Another note on the cinema experience: Once a movie starts, I never get up to leave to do anything, if I can possibly help it. Not to pee, not to smoke, not to get a snack or drink. Although I did miss a climactic scene of the last Indiana Jones movie, because I had to piss so bad, it was physically painful to keep holding it. I really didn't want to leave the theatre, but it was a genuine emergency. And the movie kinda sucked anyway, so I didn't feel bad about missing the scene for more than a few minutes afterwards.
Anyway, since this was the first time going to the movies since I quit, or rather, the first time I went since I started my new habit of using nicotine lozenges, I did not prepare. It should have been easy, but I just didn't take it seriously enough.
All I needed to do was bring in some kind of cup to spit the nicotine teeming saliva accumulation into. This is a regular part of the process of ingesting the lozenges, so I knew a cup would come in handy.
But, ya know, it just seemed like a hassle. Where would I get a cup? I had a soda from a nearby restaurant, but they prohibited me from taking it into the theatre. So, then I could go ask for one at the consession stand. But then, I'd have to wait in line, which are usually long, only to have to explain that I only need an empty cup. This would spark the suspicion that I would be trying to obtain an empty cup for free, only to return for a "refill" to get a free soda. I don't want to pay for the damn cup. I imagine that the coorporate accounting department figures an amount to charge for an empty cup based on the frequency of soda sold, compared to soda inventory, etc. blah blah blah. I just didn't want to deal with it.
And, I certainly am not going to pick one out of the trash. It really wouldn't matter, because I would be spitting into the cup, rather than drinking out of it. But then, my lips often do touch whatever cup I take on as a disposable spitoon. And besides, why gross out my female companion more than I already do by this basic process?
So...I said "f**k it," and enjoyed the movie, and held out on popping in a lozenge as long as I felt comfortable doing so. Of course, I gave in about 3/4-the-way-through. I inserted one in my mouth, and stifled the urge to swallow as my mouth began teeming with the familiar foamy, saliva/nicotine juice.
Of course, the movie went on longer than I anticipated. A few times when I thought the credits would roll, a forgotten enemy would suprise attack, or another sub-epilogue would begin. My mouth was filling up to the point where my cheeks would be visibly puffed out, were the house lights to kick on.
The only alternative to holding it in was to eject the voluminous gob from my mouth onto the floor of the theatre. The theatre was scantily occupied, and the entire rest of the row to my left, including the row fore and aft, were unoccupied, so I could certainly get away with it unnoticed. But my conscience prevented me.
I figured on the way out I could spit it out in a trash can, but then, I didn't want anyone to see me, like my fellow exiting moviegoers, or the cleanup guy standing right next to the trash can. I would just feel like an a**hole. So, I figured it could wait until I got to the bathroom.
My wife made a joking speculation about the title of a possible sequel to the movie, and I instantly formed a title of my own in an attempted one-up reponse. But, if I opened my mouth to speak it, I would have gone Cujo and made an embarrassing, disgusting mess all over the front of my clothes, chin to toe.
So my little joke had to wait, as I gestured to her with a raised finger and inflated cheeks, that I must hold my tongue.
After the walk from the aisle, to the hall, to the big hall, to the bathroom, peeing, relinquishing my foamy burden, and rejoining her in the hall, the potency of my joke diminished significantly.
I told her my joke sequel title, but after the wait, both of us silently agreed that I had not one-upped hers.
---
On a serious note:
Luckily, my wife tolerates the unsavory, attendant idiosyncrasies of nicotine lozenge use. To do so, one must keep in mind that it is for the greater, long term good.
Watching one's betrothed spitting mouthfuls of foam on a regular basis for a couple/few months becomes quite tolerable compared to the concept of becoming a lung cancer widow in one's, say, 50's.
Friday, February 20, 2009
What do old folks say?
I haven't exactly interviewed any senior citizens on the subject of nicotine addiction, but a few recent paraphrases come to mind.
A colleague's father said that it took him about a year of not smoking for the cravings to subside.
A male in-law said to me, "Ya know, I've had to quit aloooot o' things, but smokin' was the hardest one."
An elderly female co-worker was once small-talking about smoking and quitting. I don't remember what was said, but I do remember her concluding resignedly with something to the effect of, "Oh, I'm never going to quit, who am I kidding" as if it was way too late in life for her to do such a hurculean feat.
Funny thing is, when I informed the same lady that I hadn't smoked in over a week, she said she quit a couple of years ago. I asked her how she did it, and she said she just woke up one day without the desire to smoke! She said, "If I was to smoke, I would be forcing something, so why force it?" She hasn't smoked since.
Now that is amazing. I wish I could wake up like that.
A colleague's father said that it took him about a year of not smoking for the cravings to subside.
A male in-law said to me, "Ya know, I've had to quit aloooot o' things, but smokin' was the hardest one."
An elderly female co-worker was once small-talking about smoking and quitting. I don't remember what was said, but I do remember her concluding resignedly with something to the effect of, "Oh, I'm never going to quit, who am I kidding" as if it was way too late in life for her to do such a hurculean feat.
Funny thing is, when I informed the same lady that I hadn't smoked in over a week, she said she quit a couple of years ago. I asked her how she did it, and she said she just woke up one day without the desire to smoke! She said, "If I was to smoke, I would be forcing something, so why force it?" She hasn't smoked since.
Now that is amazing. I wish I could wake up like that.
Nicotine replacement therapy, part 3
So, I did a rough tally, and it seems that my nicotine lozenges cost about as much as it would if I were still smoking the cigs.
Of course, I have to look for the deals, such as the aforementioned eBay score.
Also, I ran out of the free samples the doctor gave me, while still awaiting deliver of the eBay goods, forcing me to seek out an in-store bargain.
I decided upon a generic equivalent at a local chain pharmacy. It was about $8 cheaper than the name brand version, and offered a $10 rebate in the form of (limited) store credit. The cashier informed me that it would not apply toward prescriptions, alcohol or tobacco. He added that the latter was not a problem, to which I answered, "Hopefully, yeah!"
Of course, I have to look for the deals, such as the aforementioned eBay score.
Also, I ran out of the free samples the doctor gave me, while still awaiting deliver of the eBay goods, forcing me to seek out an in-store bargain.
I decided upon a generic equivalent at a local chain pharmacy. It was about $8 cheaper than the name brand version, and offered a $10 rebate in the form of (limited) store credit. The cashier informed me that it would not apply toward prescriptions, alcohol or tobacco. He added that the latter was not a problem, to which I answered, "Hopefully, yeah!"
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Oh, the Smells!
I hadn't really noticed the loss of my sense of smell.
I could still smell the general fresh and foul odors my environment offers. But, in the time since my last* cigarette, I've noticed more smells than before. I'm told the sense of smell returns after quitting, and I'm finding that. Except that...it's not pretty.
I seem to only notice all the foul subtleties. New wisps of aroma in the bathroom; stale, musty, mildewy smells, as well as used products in the trash can. It's difficult to welcome it all back.
Also, returning with a vengeance, are the variety of odors caused by the act of smoking cigarettes itself. Friends and strangers with their clothes and hair reeking from just having come indoors after a smoke break. Ash trays, and their stale malodor, rooms and cars where the no smoking light has been off for some years and their deeply ingrained, stagnant funk. Even my own car smells different. Before, it smelled smoky to varying degrees, depending on how recently I smoked in it, how low the windows were rolled down, etc. But now, it's this stale, stagnant, ancient smell. Smells like permanent damage.
I am sure in due time, this advent into the olfactory realm with provide some pleasure eventually.
But, like just about every other aspect of life when one is trying to quit: it sucks.
--
* By last, I hopefully mean last as in final, not last as in previous.
I could still smell the general fresh and foul odors my environment offers. But, in the time since my last* cigarette, I've noticed more smells than before. I'm told the sense of smell returns after quitting, and I'm finding that. Except that...it's not pretty.
I seem to only notice all the foul subtleties. New wisps of aroma in the bathroom; stale, musty, mildewy smells, as well as used products in the trash can. It's difficult to welcome it all back.
Also, returning with a vengeance, are the variety of odors caused by the act of smoking cigarettes itself. Friends and strangers with their clothes and hair reeking from just having come indoors after a smoke break. Ash trays, and their stale malodor, rooms and cars where the no smoking light has been off for some years and their deeply ingrained, stagnant funk. Even my own car smells different. Before, it smelled smoky to varying degrees, depending on how recently I smoked in it, how low the windows were rolled down, etc. But now, it's this stale, stagnant, ancient smell. Smells like permanent damage.
I am sure in due time, this advent into the olfactory realm with provide some pleasure eventually.
But, like just about every other aspect of life when one is trying to quit: it sucks.
--
* By last, I hopefully mean last as in final, not last as in previous.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Nicotine replacement therapy, part 2
I forgot to mention one thing about the gum and lozenges: that sh*t is expensive!
But then, I haven't exactly done the math to compare to the cost of cigarettes, and hey! cigarettes are f**in*' expensive too!
I hooked up some lozenges on eBay, but for some reason I feel a little uneasy about ordering ingestibles from there...
But then, I haven't exactly done the math to compare to the cost of cigarettes, and hey! cigarettes are f**in*' expensive too!
I hooked up some lozenges on eBay, but for some reason I feel a little uneasy about ordering ingestibles from there...
Oh, the stains!
Hey, smokers: Have you ever sat in your car and looked up?
[click to see larger image in new tab/window]
I don't recommend doing this while you are driving, nor if you don't want yet another reason to quit smoking.
[click to see larger image in new tab/window]
I don't recommend doing this while you are driving, nor if you don't want yet another reason to quit smoking.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Nicotine replacement therapy
I have not tried "the patch." But I have used nicotine gum. Not to quit, but to keep from going insane on long airplane flights, and in certain situations where I knew beforehand I would be in for long hours unable to sneak away for a smoke.
I am using the nicotine lozenges in my current attempt to quit. They come in 2 strengths: 2mg and 4mg. Guess which one I need.
The determining question put forth to determine the dosage one needs is: "Do you usually light up within 30 minutes of waking up in the morning?"
Do I really need to tell you the answer?
The thing that sucks about the gum and the lozenges is that they share a stipulation with chewing tobacco, plug, etc. This regards swallowing.
It seems like common sense to avoid swallowing any of the items mentioned above. But just the mere swallowing of the saliva that normally accumulates in the mouth is warned against.
With actual chewing tobacco, you will suffer instant nausea and most likely vomit if you swallow a reasonable amount of your own saliva teaming with the juices. (I did this once, despite fair warning, but that story is for a later post.)
But with the gum and lozenges, swallowing is discouraged as well. With those, one experiences a burning indigestion right away. The gum even made me belch more than usual. It made one-guy-I-know's stomach bleed/spit up little bits of blood. I seem to remember having tiny traces of blood in my spit in the midst of using alot of the gum on a weekend plane trip.
So here I am accumulating gobs of foamy saliva in my mouth, waiting for a chance when I can spit it out unobserved. Just like the hicks and baseball players at my high school who would "dip" in class. (more on that in another post, as well).
I spit some in the side of the street, in a length of puddled water moting the curb. A local dog soon approached, sniffed the foam in the water and set to lap it up before I shoo'd it away. I shuddered to the think it's adoring owner would see and understand what was happening and forever look at me as a careless poisoner of pets.
Indoors, I must tack between sinks, trashcans, empty soda cans, or disposable cups.
It's embarrassing when caught between spitting outlets for a time, and then being engaged in conversation by someone who isn't aware, nor would be sympathetic, to what is going on. I can only hope to breeze through it with 1 or 2 "mhmm"s.
Worse yet, a loved one actually picked up a disposable plastic cup I had on a the desk that I had been using as one of my temporary spitoons. Wide eyed, I yelped, "DON'T!" She thought it was milk, which would have been perfect to wash the chocolate candy she just ate. Embarrassing. Again.
So I feel like I've traded one disgusting habit for another. Obviously, the long term benefits of this far outweigh this short term situation.
That is, of course, if I ever actually do wean off the replacement products. After all, it's still nicotine.
I am using the nicotine lozenges in my current attempt to quit. They come in 2 strengths: 2mg and 4mg. Guess which one I need.
The determining question put forth to determine the dosage one needs is: "Do you usually light up within 30 minutes of waking up in the morning?"
Do I really need to tell you the answer?
The thing that sucks about the gum and the lozenges is that they share a stipulation with chewing tobacco, plug, etc. This regards swallowing.
It seems like common sense to avoid swallowing any of the items mentioned above. But just the mere swallowing of the saliva that normally accumulates in the mouth is warned against.
With actual chewing tobacco, you will suffer instant nausea and most likely vomit if you swallow a reasonable amount of your own saliva teaming with the juices. (I did this once, despite fair warning, but that story is for a later post.)
But with the gum and lozenges, swallowing is discouraged as well. With those, one experiences a burning indigestion right away. The gum even made me belch more than usual. It made one-guy-I-know's stomach bleed/spit up little bits of blood. I seem to remember having tiny traces of blood in my spit in the midst of using alot of the gum on a weekend plane trip.
So here I am accumulating gobs of foamy saliva in my mouth, waiting for a chance when I can spit it out unobserved. Just like the hicks and baseball players at my high school who would "dip" in class. (more on that in another post, as well).
I spit some in the side of the street, in a length of puddled water moting the curb. A local dog soon approached, sniffed the foam in the water and set to lap it up before I shoo'd it away. I shuddered to the think it's adoring owner would see and understand what was happening and forever look at me as a careless poisoner of pets.
Indoors, I must tack between sinks, trashcans, empty soda cans, or disposable cups.
It's embarrassing when caught between spitting outlets for a time, and then being engaged in conversation by someone who isn't aware, nor would be sympathetic, to what is going on. I can only hope to breeze through it with 1 or 2 "mhmm"s.
Worse yet, a loved one actually picked up a disposable plastic cup I had on a the desk that I had been using as one of my temporary spitoons. Wide eyed, I yelped, "DON'T!" She thought it was milk, which would have been perfect to wash the chocolate candy she just ate. Embarrassing. Again.
So I feel like I've traded one disgusting habit for another. Obviously, the long term benefits of this far outweigh this short term situation.
That is, of course, if I ever actually do wean off the replacement products. After all, it's still nicotine.
Some experiences with Dutch hand-rolling tobacco, Part 2
Another thing about rolling my own cigarettes was the stains.
Having no filters, these cowboy-style cigs left my index and f.u. finger stained yellow/gold/orange. Very difficult to wash off. And of course, with the stain is the smell. Even the romance of relating to the protagonist in The Wall, by way of mental audio of the voice of Roger Waters' Dylanesque talk-singing the line, "I've got nicotine stains on my fingers," from Nobody Home didn't make me feel any better about it.
I worked tending a shop, mostly by myself, on a college campus. I would smoke the ol' handrolled shag outside on my break. Awhile after returning, a customer came in, and was apparently prompted to comment by the overwhelming stench that clung and emitted from my body, hair and clothing.
He sniffed the air, wrinkled his brow and asked via statement of assumption, "They allow you to smoke in here?"
I reeked, and made my surroundings reek as well, depite that I smoked outside the building. Disgusted as I was with myself, many such humiliations couldn't stop me.
Having no filters, these cowboy-style cigs left my index and f.u. finger stained yellow/gold/orange. Very difficult to wash off. And of course, with the stain is the smell. Even the romance of relating to the protagonist in The Wall, by way of mental audio of the voice of Roger Waters' Dylanesque talk-singing the line, "I've got nicotine stains on my fingers," from Nobody Home didn't make me feel any better about it.
I worked tending a shop, mostly by myself, on a college campus. I would smoke the ol' handrolled shag outside on my break. Awhile after returning, a customer came in, and was apparently prompted to comment by the overwhelming stench that clung and emitted from my body, hair and clothing.
He sniffed the air, wrinkled his brow and asked via statement of assumption, "They allow you to smoke in here?"
I reeked, and made my surroundings reek as well, depite that I smoked outside the building. Disgusted as I was with myself, many such humiliations couldn't stop me.
More on The Impulse
In the first week of smoking abstinence, I was faced with regularly renewed horror at many points in each morning, day and night. The horror is sustained during periods in which I would normally be lighting up in frequent succession, such as in the car on weekend morning errands, revolving around acquiring and consuming a highly caffeinated bevarage.
Simple tasks during such outings became a scatterbrained, nervous undertaking, requiring herculean effort of concentration. I almost ran a red light, and stopped suspiciously soon at another, both incidents with a cop in close proximity.
Simple tasks during such outings became a scatterbrained, nervous undertaking, requiring herculean effort of concentration. I almost ran a red light, and stopped suspiciously soon at another, both incidents with a cop in close proximity.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Some experiences with Dutch hand-rolling tobacco, Part 1
Mmmmmm.....
I can taste it. Smell it. Feel it.
A certain brand of Dutch handrolling tobacco, or "shag". (No brands mentioned here - they ain't paying me to advertise)
I preferred the light version, which wasn't as widely available. The regular, popular strength was too much for me to handle in the frequency in which I smoked, especially since you roll it yourself. I realized later that filters were available that you could roll into them, but it seems like too much of a pain in the arse.
A lot of people go for the packs of loose tobacco claiming that it's cheap to roll your own. I don't know about that. Maybe if you buy those cans of that throat scorching stuff. I do know you always run out of rolling papers and have to buy more. A lot of them tear during rolling, or get used or borrowed for...other things.
But, besides being cheaper, I used to tell myself that hand rolling would slow down my intake. The process would make it more difficult to light up in the car. Taking the time to meticulously roll up a fag would kill a few precious moments of the day that would add up and somehow bump a cig or 2 out of my daily intake.
Ah, the self delusion of the hopeless smoker.
I got so good at hand rolling, that I could do it while driving. I got as good and fast at it as I did sitting still. People told me about professional stoners who gained enough experience points to be able to roll a joint with one hand. Well, I always needed two hands for this, but still, very fast and accurate. I think I would do the actual pinch-rolling with one hand, but the prepacking and the post licking require two hands. The forearms pressed against the steering wheel, which actually provided more stable steering than the 1 hand of said pro-stoners.
I recall rolling one while driving and changing lanes on a sharp turning freeway offramp, leading onto a steep and trafficky bridge. Doesn't sound as dangerous here, but I remember being impressed with myself.
Another memory I have from the same offramp and bridge was having a coughing fit. I coughed and hacked uncontrollably. The thing about the smoker's cough is that you cough and cough, until enough phlegm gets into a certain area of the throat, causing you to gag.
This fit was so hard that I coughed until I gagged and gagged until I threw up. While driving.
Now I can't remember if I a) puked a little on my jacket and had to take it off, b) puked on my lap and had to borrow some shorts and possibly a shirt from my buddies whom I was on my way to visit. or c) puked and filled my own mouth, and was forced to swallow the disgusting bile flavored vomit.
I'm convinced it was b).
I can taste it. Smell it. Feel it.
A certain brand of Dutch handrolling tobacco, or "shag". (No brands mentioned here - they ain't paying me to advertise)
I preferred the light version, which wasn't as widely available. The regular, popular strength was too much for me to handle in the frequency in which I smoked, especially since you roll it yourself. I realized later that filters were available that you could roll into them, but it seems like too much of a pain in the arse.
A lot of people go for the packs of loose tobacco claiming that it's cheap to roll your own. I don't know about that. Maybe if you buy those cans of that throat scorching stuff. I do know you always run out of rolling papers and have to buy more. A lot of them tear during rolling, or get used or borrowed for...other things.
But, besides being cheaper, I used to tell myself that hand rolling would slow down my intake. The process would make it more difficult to light up in the car. Taking the time to meticulously roll up a fag would kill a few precious moments of the day that would add up and somehow bump a cig or 2 out of my daily intake.
Ah, the self delusion of the hopeless smoker.
I got so good at hand rolling, that I could do it while driving. I got as good and fast at it as I did sitting still. People told me about professional stoners who gained enough experience points to be able to roll a joint with one hand. Well, I always needed two hands for this, but still, very fast and accurate. I think I would do the actual pinch-rolling with one hand, but the prepacking and the post licking require two hands. The forearms pressed against the steering wheel, which actually provided more stable steering than the 1 hand of said pro-stoners.
I recall rolling one while driving and changing lanes on a sharp turning freeway offramp, leading onto a steep and trafficky bridge. Doesn't sound as dangerous here, but I remember being impressed with myself.
Another memory I have from the same offramp and bridge was having a coughing fit. I coughed and hacked uncontrollably. The thing about the smoker's cough is that you cough and cough, until enough phlegm gets into a certain area of the throat, causing you to gag.
This fit was so hard that I coughed until I gagged and gagged until I threw up. While driving.
Now I can't remember if I a) puked a little on my jacket and had to take it off, b) puked on my lap and had to borrow some shorts and possibly a shirt from my buddies whom I was on my way to visit. or c) puked and filled my own mouth, and was forced to swallow the disgusting bile flavored vomit.
I'm convinced it was b).
The Impulse
The Impulse.
That's the sudden jolt in the mind; the millisecond of unconscious, "Oh yeah! Time for a smoke!"
For the hardcore smoker, this comes just about every waking moment that one is not actually inhaling smoke from the business end of a cigarette.
When abstaining from smoking, there is no letting down one's guard. The impulse comes constantly. One is reminded at every turn of when one used to light up. Not once, but over and over.
It goes kinda like this:
Ding! The impulse pokes. It doesn't go 'ding;' it's silent. But you feel it. It's like the scene in The Empire Strikes Back, when Lando punches in a code on his calculator watch. Cut to a face shot of Lobot opening his eyes in a sudden jolt, being called into action by remote.
So you feel the Impulse. Then you think, ah, that's right; I always reach for the pack as I'm heading for the door to the outside at this time, morning break at work. Nope, you can't do it! You quit, remember? Oh, yeah. And I don't have a pack of cigs in my pocket anyway. Nor a lighter...DING! Immediately after telling oneself this, The Impulse jolts again!
Immediately.
And this happens over and over, all day long, at every turn.
Even with a freshly dissolving nicotine lozenge on one's wet tongue.
That's the sudden jolt in the mind; the millisecond of unconscious, "Oh yeah! Time for a smoke!"
For the hardcore smoker, this comes just about every waking moment that one is not actually inhaling smoke from the business end of a cigarette.
When abstaining from smoking, there is no letting down one's guard. The impulse comes constantly. One is reminded at every turn of when one used to light up. Not once, but over and over.
It goes kinda like this:
Ding! The impulse pokes. It doesn't go 'ding;' it's silent. But you feel it. It's like the scene in The Empire Strikes Back, when Lando punches in a code on his calculator watch. Cut to a face shot of Lobot opening his eyes in a sudden jolt, being called into action by remote.
So you feel the Impulse. Then you think, ah, that's right; I always reach for the pack as I'm heading for the door to the outside at this time, morning break at work. Nope, you can't do it! You quit, remember? Oh, yeah. And I don't have a pack of cigs in my pocket anyway. Nor a lighter...DING! Immediately after telling oneself this, The Impulse jolts again!
Immediately.
And this happens over and over, all day long, at every turn.
Even with a freshly dissolving nicotine lozenge on one's wet tongue.
Friday, February 13, 2009
There's only one cure...
...for nicotine addiction.
Death.
That's what I said for a long time, after I found out I was snared. Well, awhile after that, when I found out, oh, wait, I'm not snared, I'm chained. Or cemented.
For over a decade, just about every day, I have told myself, "Man, I've got to quit smoking."
I've been smoking for just about 2 decades now.
In this blog you'll hear about a hopeless fiend trying to quit and some ugly stories from the life of a disgusting, hopeless, smelly, black-lunged loser.
Death.
That's what I said for a long time, after I found out I was snared. Well, awhile after that, when I found out, oh, wait, I'm not snared, I'm chained. Or cemented.
For over a decade, just about every day, I have told myself, "Man, I've got to quit smoking."
I've been smoking for just about 2 decades now.
In this blog you'll hear about a hopeless fiend trying to quit and some ugly stories from the life of a disgusting, hopeless, smelly, black-lunged loser.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
