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Saturday, February 5, 2011

Smoker's Diary #14: The 22-year old Anti-smoking Demon

Photograph by Rob San Miguel (Seoul 2008)
DAY 52

“You’re so sexy that you have to smoke.” There you go.  I used to joke to my friends that I could not totally quit smoking because some outfit went well with a lighted cigarette, a Nat Sherman just to intimidate. A fantabulous fashion ensemble must simply be complimented with a Nat Sherman’s slow burning natural mint delicacy.  You need the sultry glow of smoke to finish the look.  This works if you are still deluded that people actually care about you.  I discovered that, most of the time, we are too self-absorbed that the real reason that we look at other people is to see their physical qualities and possessions that we don’t have so we can decide if we should hate them or love them or be jealous of them, and other wicked furtive feelings we keep brewing deep inside our fertile hearts.
“I am so in control that I refuse to be enslaved by a piece of cigarette.” Right you are.  Back in the days when I was a passionate non-smoker, I used to take my friends packs of cigarettes, and I would write “stop smoking” on every stick and then put them all back in the pack.  Of course, I did this when I was twenty-two years old, when my skin was much supple and I was the latest meat in the market. Those days, it was considered a “cute” thing to do.  The harshest reaction I got was “You silly boy.”  In the end, it was not good to offend someone whom you were trying to get into the sack.  Until one day, a friend (a chemist major) told me that writing on the cigarette paper was more harmful because the ball pen ink would release harmful chemicals once it got burned along with the cigarette.  I was actually making the cigarette more hazardous by adding additional chemical ink on the cigarette stick. Another example of idiocracy wrapped in good intentions.  Therefore, I stopped.
Oddly, I was dumber when I did not smoke and I was smarter when I smoked.  Allegedly, tobacco smoking depletes your brain of its cells and decreases your libido. Again, I was “perkier” when I smoked than when I wasn’t, if you know what mean.  But that my friends is another story and we have kids in the house. Now, who wants to watch SpongeBob? Anyone, Patrick?

P.S. After a month of not smoking, I got sick.  I never really get sick often, once a year only and I still go to work. The pressure at work compelled my white blood cells to work doubly faster or face termination.  I know it’s an exaggeration but I was consciously ordering my body to get well or the entire immune system with all its employees would be sacked and I would replace them with new nanobots from Japan.   For the first time in five years, I really felt horribly sick, and this never happened when I was smoking.  My friend (the one who quit quitting smoking) said that all serious quitters get sick during the first month.  It may be psychologically caused or it may be your body’s reaction to the cleansing process.  Consider it like a self-induced exorcism.  I will miss my tobacco demon but it is all right, I still have legions inside me and one of them, the perkiest, still thinks he’s twenty-two so I let him sleep in the V.I.P. suit of my brain. There you go.

Next: Smoker's Diary #15

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