Like many citizens of the world who, for some odd reason, wish to avoid dying of lung cancer, I have recently quit smoking. The possibility of breaking this highly addictive habit may seem daunting to many of you out there in ReaderLand who still enjoy the daily Tobacco Suck; thus, I present to you this brief journal of my first week after I quit smoking. I sincerely hope that this journal may be a beacon to those of you who desire to do the dirty deed of quitting -- may it, like an Anne Murray song or Tony Robbins' hypnotic white teeth, light your way.
They say the first week is the hardest, that it can be especially taxing on one's nerves, causing one to be, oh, just a tad more temperamental than usual. However, now that I've made it through that terrible first week, I have to say, it wasn't so terrible, as I believe my journal entries, in all their orthographic glory, shall attest.
Wednesday, Feb. 19th: I've begun to entertain the idea of quitting, on account of the fact that I'm already sick with the mysterious but all-too-pervasive "Dartmouth flu." Since I can't smoke anyway, at least while I'm sick, I might as well see if I can quit, right?
Thursday, Feb. 20th: Boy, do I feel great! I may still be sick with the flu, but I can tell, I'm already twice as healthy as I was yesterday. Let the Light of Heaven shine down upon my resurrected breathing apparatus!
Friday, Feb. 21st: Slept through both classes today. This flu's so bad, I hardly notice that every cell of my being is shrieking like a banshee on PCP for a cigarette.
Saturday, Feb. 22nd: My girlfriend, who's one of those "social smokers," went out for a smoke today. I told her I hoped she got emphysema.
Sunday, Feb. 23rd: Feeling better today. I may have been a little snappish with my girlfriend yesterday, but that's to be expected -- I just quit smoking, after all. I'm bound to be a bit on the tense side these next few days.
Monday, Feb. 24th: Standing outside my Philosophy of Religion class this afternoon, I was heard to yell "I hate spring!" over and over again -- at least, so I'm told. Honestly, I don't remember.
Tuesday, Feb. 25th: I'm at Murphy's having a few drinks with some pals -- we're actually sitting in the non-smoking section, until 10 P.M., that is, when the whole restaurant becomes a smoking section. An acquaintance sits down at our table for awhile, and proceeds to light up right in front of me. I throw her lighter across the bar and stub out her cigarette before she's halfway done.
Wednesday, Feb. 26th: Read "Bear Bones" today at lunch. I almost made a noise like a laugh, but it was just the sound of my choking on the warmed-over Hop celery. This morning they managed to make every breakfast sandwich but mine. Not that any of this will ever stop me from eating here. I can't quit smoking AND the Hop in the same week -- if I did I'd have to start using heroin just to compensate.
Thursday, Feb. 27th: Got a five-thousand- character blitz lambasting me for my having described the Earth Sciences major as "duller than the Economics major" in my column. There's also a letter in The Dartmouth with a similarly defensive tone. Perhaps I was unfair -- instead of characterizing the Earth Sciences major as dull, I should have called it "attractive to psychotics."
Friday, Feb. 28th: Spent the entire Philosophy of Religion class arguing against everyone that "pragmatism is not pragmatic."
Saturday, March 1st: Can't smoke, so I gnaw the skin off my hand instead. Even though I've quit, and the flu's long gone, I still have this lingering cough. Went hiking today... got winded about fifteen feet up the mountain. On several occasions I am tempted to throttle everyone I see.
Sunday, March 2nd: All I need is a rifle and ten minutes in Baker Tower and I'd be FINE.
Monday, March 3rd: Cough disappearing ... murderous urges subsiding ... cravings for a cigarette NOT GOING AWAY. Is this what I have to look forward to the rest of my life? Maybe I should hang myself.
That's the last of my journal entries, at least so far. I hope you smokers out there find solace and inspiration in my uplifting tale. I guess it is true, after all: you can quit smoking and still be happy!
