hard habits

good christ, is there anyone else on earth laying on a couch sort of watching a movie and trying to remember tchaikovsky's first name right now? i have checked. it is pyotr. i won't forget again.

other than two bummed ones at a beach-themed dance party on saturday night, i have been off the cigarettes for 10 days. this profession is made possible thanks to LACK OF a) pride in the progress, and b) shame in the possible failure. i finally felt quite ready to stop the wheezing and smelling gross, so i decided to give it a shot, twisted smoker identity issues be damned. i have not been wobbly or delirious or bitchier than normal. there is no tingle in my feet or sweat in my palms. i miss filling minutes and holes with smoking, but not so badly that i'm rocking wildly like meg ryan in that movie. ok, that was booze and THANK GOD my addictive personality didn't grab hold of that bastard but addictions are addictions and detoxifying from any one of them can be a snotty, teary, gut-wrenching affair. where butting out is concerned, i am fortunate to be free of spontaneous excretions at this point.

uh oh, another west wing reference. how i miss the wisdom of leo: "i'm an alcoholic, i don't have one drink. i don't understand people who have one drink, i don't understand people who leave half a glass of wine on the table, i don't understand people who say they've had enough, how can you have enough of feeling like this? how can you not want to feel like this longer? my brain works differently."