Can I get a little feedback?

I know that at least one of you reads my blog.  I know that one of you has commented.  Why is it only ONE!

Is it that hard to write a few words of criticism or encouragement?  Or is my blog that dry and devoid of anything interesting that commenting seems to you akin to watching more than 30 seconds of reality TV?

If that is the case then I understand.

But know this, I once watched an entire season of The Biggest Loser under duress.  And I'm still here.

Just saying.

Day 4?  I cheated big time last night and smoked like 10 cigarettes.  I've smoked 2 this morning.  And I just put my patch on.  I have one patch left.  I joined that Tobacco Free Florida thing so I could get a weeks worth of patches for free, but they won't be here for two weeks.

What will happen?  Will I go on a bender this weekend with Kimberly and smoke 4 packs of Lucky Strike? Once the Rum and Tequila starts flowing am I going to revert into a Nicotine gargling beast with no regard for his finances or health?

Maybe.

I had a dream last night I killed Thulsa Doom

And when it was all over I got to keep his awesome Crib!

Nicotine Dreams are fun.

Inclement Health

I've been assured that if I continued to smoke, that the above rendition of me would be accurate, soon.

While I have much love for the departed Mr. Crowley, I don't wish to resemble him so distinctively before I shuffle off into the next life.  So I continue down the broken cobbles that make up the path towards being tobacco free.  Blargh!

DAY 3

I had zero cigarettes at work yesterday.  Which was hard.  I did smoke 5 cigarettes last night after my patch finally dried up and blew off my shoulder. 

I have smoked two cigarettes this morning, before thinking better of quitting the quit, so I put on my patch.

Coffee Straws are a very poor substitute for a cigarette.  Any suggestions?

I'm annoyed and I don't feel like writing anything deep or humorous.

Kimberly is doing just about as well as I am so far, and being able to talk to her about it has been invaluable.  

Keep crossing your fingers for me.  

This is much rather what I would look like when I croak:

Addiction weighs more

Day two on the trudge towards becoming unfettered by the chains of Nicotine.

My ego will not let me simply take the easy road, so I'm alternating between sticking to the patches and then trying to go cold turkey as long as I can before sticking another one on my back.

Yesterday I had three smokes in the morning.  All day with the patch, until it slid off my sweaty carcass as I was sweeping my driveway after work.  Yes I have a leaf blower, but just like dishes I feel things get cleaning when you do it by hand.

I managed to stay away from the smokes until about 7:45pm.  I smoked 9 before bead at 10pm.  Not exactly stellar progress I realize.  It's a Process!

Today I have had one cigarette.  I have not put on the patch yet, but will more than likely being doing so shortly.  The anxiety is about 4 out of 10.  I'm actually craving another cup of coffee more than a cigarette.  lol

He represents my addiction to cigarettes.  He's sorta cute, no?

...Hates a Quitter

Day 1

Had three cigarettes today.  One this morning before I left for work at about 7:30am.  The second, about 9:00am, the last about 10:40am.

Placed a 21mg Nicotine Trans dermal Patch on my left shoulder at 11:00am.

This is not the first time that I have attempted to quit smoking.

I've managed to quit several times with varying degrees of success.  Obviously none of those instances were completely successful.

I am ready to quit smoking.

I am 42 years old.  I've been smoking for almost half my life.  I'm overweight, I drink too much, I have high blood pressure.  I also have 4 daughters and a girlfriend that love me very much.  Not to mention my family, friends and co-workers that I'm sure would like to have me around as long as possible.

So today is the day that I become a quitter.

Bully for me!  And equal amounts of Bully for my girlfriend Kimberly.  Who independently decided that today would be a good day to give up smoking.  Must be something in the water.

So I'll chronicle as much as of saga towards healthier lungs as I can remember to.  I might even throw in amusing anecdotes of withdrawal and temper tantrums.

This is a Rooster giving you the stink eye.

Fight

Half of the people on Earth believe that nothing will ever work out. The other half believe in Magic. And there is this war between them. So it's up to those of us that believe in Magic to show the people that believe that nothing will ever work out, exactly what it is that they are missing.

2012

Perhaps I am fooling myself when I say that this year (2012) I will draw at the very least 15 minutes a day.

Knowing myself how I do, and you (dear reader) knowing me how you know me, realize that I am a consummate procrastinator.

In addition, I can't seem to finish anything.  And when I do, I finish it poorly.

As I have expressed to my artistically gifted children, of which I was when I could count myself as a child, Practice Makes Perfect.

From as far back as I could remember I drew everyday.  Sometimes all day.  My sister and I would make little flea cities and populate them with flea cars and flea airplanes.  We would have flea bridges over little flea rivers.  All on one sheet of 8.5" x 11" sheet fed paper that we had torn the edges off of.  The details we could jam in there was astonishing.  And we had fun for hours doing it.

I would sit in a big arm chair and draw random monsters, claws and fangs while I watched hours of Godzilla movies on Dr. Paul Bearers Creature Feature.  One of my fondest memories is drawing in the margins of my big puzzle book when I was about 12 years old while I watched Forbidden Planet one Saturday afternoon.  I wish I still had those little doodles.

In the 8th grade I had an art teacher, Mr. Brown.  He gladly let my dark and strange imagination run rampant on paper.  Dinosaurs, bloody eye balls, broken glass filled my little portfolio.  Again, I wish I had kept even a fraction of those drawings.

11th grade.  The last time I remember drawing with any great frequency. The last time I remember enjoying drawing AND knowing that I was good at it.  Disembodied hands ended in shattered bones and spouting blood vessels.  Tendons and muscles expanded and contracted in the vacuum of space. Dozens of mythical creatures and beasts that I drew out of whole clothes flowed out of my imagination and onto paper.  It was glorious.

Then it stopped.

I stopped Drawing.

Why?  It was important to me.  It was something that allowed me to express myself and stand out from the crowd.  (Being a nerd made this aspect very appealing)  I loved it.

I lament the fact that I stopped drawing every day.  And I've lamented long enough.  So I will draw 15 minutes a day for the next 30 days.  And I will post those 'drawings' for comment and/or ridicule.

Let's see where this goes together.

Greg