Bent Words

Bent Words

October 21, 2010

Day 1

I suck at quitting.

Which wouldn't be a bad thing if I weren't talking about quitting smoking.

Unfortunately, I am and, most unfortunately, I haven't.

But I am getting better (I'm not dead yet).

Today was my official Quit Date and since yesterday, I've smoked six cigarettes. Three yesterday, three today. I wouldn't consider this altogether poorly if it weren't for the fact that the first time I quit, I somehow managed to only smoke ONE cigarette on my quit date. It's my own damned fault for not throwing away the leftovers last night. I should have just bit the bullet and tossed them.

Luckily the cigarette (which is actually a cigar with a filter) I'm smoking right now isn't at all satisfying so I'm getting absolutely zero enjoyment out of this experience.

Thank you, Chantix.

I hate you.

Day 2

Ya know what else I hate?


I mean, the idea of an interstate sounds good -- four lanes of same direction, 75 MPH traffic broken by the occasional exit which will quickly bring you to your destination -- but the actuality of it is pure crap. It might be a faster mode of transportation than your average back road at 2am but during Normal People Hours, it's never not crowded. Nor is altogether too convenient in terms of blood pressure level. It might accommodate more people (who all seem to be going to the same place you are) but who is really evaluating the skill level of all these drivers? Because, today, I did not see ONE police officer during my jaunt down four highly congested lanes of construction riddled traffic.

I did see plenty of phone fumbling freaks with non-functioning turn signals. I saw every color of the rainbow in the variety of ridiculous stuffed animals the woman in front of me accommodated in her back window. I saw my knuckles turn white as I gripped the wheel in sheer terror, somehow managing to avoid one drifter and two sudden stops in traffic. I saw about forty-two flashes in brakes lights by the truck in front of me before we surpassed a speed of 5MPH.

But the real reason I hate interstates with such alacrity is because they make me want to smoke. A lot. And smoke I did. Twice. Once on my way up to Cedarburg and once on my way back down.

I hate the interstate.

Highly disappointed in my lack of strength, coupled with the fact that I had eaten one cookie in the early morning hours and nothing else, I also learned that I hate women who spray perfume on themselves in public bathrooms. It doesn't smell good, lady, it just smells. Go spritz yourself outside or in your car -- you don't need to share your lack of olfactory sense with the rest of the world. You could kill mosquitoes with that crap. Cigarettes are safer than that pollutant. Haven't you ever heard of subtlety? Seriously. Caribou know you're coming -- tone it down.

I also hate that I hate people with lazy eyes. I don't mean to be rude but, these people give me headaches. I'm not talking about a slightly lazy eye, here, I'm talking big difference. Like, one eye's looking at me and the other one is checking out the Big Dipper. One eye might be looking at me but the other one is definitely scoping out the bartender's ass on the opposite side of the bar. One eye is looking at me but the other one is looking deep into my future. Whatever it is, I can't keep up right now. It's giving me a headache. I've had two beers, one hookah and no food -- please limit your demands on my attention to one obvious target. Please talk to someone else because I can't keep looking over my shoulder to see if you're directing your speech to whomever it is that just came through the front door rather than myself. You seem nice enough and, under normal circumstances, I'd gladly put up with you but not tonight. Not now.

And I hate that the hand soap I just purchased smells exactly like whatever soap Shane used to buy. I never think about it beforehand but, every time I used it, I'm instantly transformed back six years to his bathroom and can recall perfectly the layout of his things, the color of his shower curtain, the chill of floor on my feet. How I kept thinking to myself that I needed to buy a different kind of soap to because 'this stuff is terrible for my face.'

Normally I'm ready for all these things. Normally the interstate, because of my rare visitations, is an adventure. No longer am I traversing through traffic of this nature twice a day, every day so it's not a problem. It's kinda fun to go fast, to see things I haven't seen in awhile, to be able to listen to an entire CD full of ridiculous dance tunes.

Normally people don't bother me and I'm willing to chat it up with whoever happens to be sitting next to me. I may not be a Chatty Kathy all the time but at least I'm congenial.

Normally the soap issue doesn't bother me. I recognize it but it soon fades. Certainly it has never sent me reeling into a big hot mess before.

But today is not a normal day. Today is only Day 2 of me struggling with cigarettes. I'm not quite myself. I'm questioning everything and irritated by just as much. But the battle isn't over yet. Tomorrow's a new day.

And although I hate this, and pretty much everything else, I know I can do it.

I got this.

Day 3

It's so much easier not to hate people when you're not around them.

Since I'm not hatin', I'm also not stressin'.

And, I haven't had ONE cigarette today!

Naturally, I'm totally cheating with a hookah but, as my favorite tar benders say, "Hookah's don't count." Four out of five tar benders can't be wrong.

Today was spent keeping myself busy. I cleaned out my fridge, washed some clothes, bought some food, yoga'ed up the floor, put olive oil in my hair hoping it would stave the frizziness and cooked up some food. It helped to stay busy. And while I'm still not feeling great, I'm know now that I'm on my way. I know I can do this and I know can be happy again. I see the light.

All I ask is that everyone treats me especially nice for the next few days. Lotsa compliments, zero complaints and candy. Bring me candy. I don't care what kind, unless it's grape (ew), but I do require unGodly amounts of candy in my daily diet. Oh and my rule is that anything blue must taste good. Thank you.

There can be no hate for those who lavish me with all things sweet...

Written at 6:45 p.m.