No Nicotine: Day 4

I think, I'm over the hump. I went to Walmart and got some gum and it helps some. I still want a cigarette, but I don't NEED one. The real problem is going to be getting off the gum I'm afraid. I got all my grades in and I did really well this semester (these were grades that were good for me, probably average for other people).

No Nicotine: Day 1

I feel like crap. I'm tired, irritable, depressed, and just generally pissed off at everyone and everything. It's one of the universe's cruelest tricks to make coffee and beer taste so good with cigarettes. I'm trying this cold turkey. Think I might have to trek to Walmart and get the gum or patch. May not be able to do this on my own. My brain is playing tricks on me. Even now, as I finish a sentence I think to myself, "Man it's been a while since I've had a cigarette, I should go have one." Then I think, "Oh yeah, I quit." I have to keep reminding myself that I quit smoking. The last time I tried this, I literally found myself at a gas station counter buying a pack without thinking about it. This is the kind of hold this drug has on my brain. The receptors in my brain made me forget that I quit so they could get their fix. Damn receptors. Damn brain. Damn cigarettes. I'm gonna try real hard to fill my time with Playstation and empty calories so I won't be tempted to smoke. We'll see how that works out.

I've been in Texas far too long

Last night I went out on my patio to smoke a cigarette (I'll talk more about this in the next few days). I got a beer out of the fridge, put it in a huggie and stepped through the sliding glass door. I sat down and opened the beer, lit my cigarette and did a quick survey of the situation. I was smoking a camel light, drinking a Shiner Bock from my "99.5 The Wolf - Texas Country" huggie that I got for free at Willie Nelson's 4th of July Picnic. I shook my head in abject shame. "I'm so Texas it hurts," I thought to myself. Somehow, I never thought this would happen. I thought I could stave off the inundation of this Texican culture longer than this. It's a slippery slope from the innocent dabbling I've been doing to speaking unintelligibly and screaming out, "REMEMBER THE ALAMO!" at every opportunity, whether appropriate or not. I need some magnolias, too many mesquite trees around here. I need a November Saturday in the Grove drinking bourbon like they quit making it and yelling obscenities at coonasses. I need some Mississippi. And so, I'm a Texassippian. A Mississippi ex-pat in a land of barbarians, and, God help me, I'm starting to speak the language.