Excuses, excuses

If there’s one thing that I’ve found a talent for, it’s coming up with excuses. I’m not even that good at lying. My talent lies in adjusting the truth to suit my needs.

The reason I think of excuses, is initially the one for not writing for two or (hell-fire) three (or is it four) days. Yes, there’s been a lack of internet, but I’ve also been distracted by: 1) reading; 2)my new guitar and 3) Christmas shopping. Two out of three ain’t bad. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.

The way I see it: “If I’m not writing, I’m reading”, is a pretty good rule to be working by. I don’t own a television. I have no internet access. My apartment is technologically stuck in the 1970s. Barring the laptop that I work on, nothing predates the Rolling Stones. We don’t even have a microwave! Where was I? Oh yes, there’s little to distract me from my pursuit of becoming a better wordsmith. Admittedly, I’m not taking in any hardcore literature at the minute (I’m waiting on Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince), but while I m awaiting Rowling’s sixth installation, I am slowly ploughing through Norman Davies’ Europe: A History. It’s not because it’s a tough read, that I liken it to agricultural fieldwork, but the size of the subject (and literally the book!) is pretty flipping huge.

Anyway, a massive excuse later… Over the past couple of days I’ve been trying to get myself off the cigarettes. I can’t remember the last time I tried to quit smoking. In the past I’ve been able to go for months and months without smoking, before collapsing into a “If I’m going to smoke weed, I might as well smoke cigarettes,” type excuse. Lucky for me, I’m too busy (with work) and too lazy with my spare time to source out some greenery. It looks like I might be able to stick to it this time.

It must have been two or more years ago that I last tried to give up smoking. I can distinctly remember not wanting to give up smoking at any point last year, as I was in the final year of university. Way too stressed to take on anymore stress, I thought too myself. I believe, the idea ran a similar vein in the first and second years of college also.

It looks like I’ll make it to the end of today without smoking. Since this afternoon that is. I had a few sneaky pulls earlier, but the reduction in nicotine intake is mind blowing. Literally. This morning after having breakfast and doing some remedial house work, I thought I felt like having a smoke. After the second drag my head felt like it was filling with helium. I stubbed the rest out. Later on today, as we crossed the Old Town, I knew there was no logic in taking a few pulls, but I needed to. And found out to my relief that, no, I didn’t need to.

It seems there’s always a perfect excuse for not quitting smoking (and yes you clever readers, there are equally just as many excuses for starting again). I always seem to forget how exciting it is when I stop smoking. Now I don’t know if this happens with anyone else, but when I stop smoking I seem to have about ten million times more energy than I did before. This usually finds its escape route through me talking twice as much bollocks as I usually do. In fact, I’ve found it very useful in competing with my girlfriend in games of Who Can Be The Most Annoying In a Public Place? I can realise why, when I was a child, I ran everywhere. When you can get somewhere quickly, why not get there quickly? My pace on the pavement is reaching Oxford Street standards.

How long this will all last? Only time will tell. It’ll be interesting to see how the quitting cigs hunger kicks in, as I never have any food in my kitchen. Perhaps I’ll just start drinking more tea. I can’t see any harm in that.

As I was bouncing along the pavement, at around 20km/h, I wondered why I ever started in the first place. The simple reason is that at 15 years old I was addicted to slot machines. The only source of entertainment in my home town was apparently compulsive gambling and video games. But that’s a different story. I honestly started smoking so I wouldn’t waste my money on the machines. I also started smoking for the same reason everyone else does: because it’s cool.

Now the logic of cool people smoking is a subject that requires more than a few minutes thought at 3am on a cold Monday morning. So maybe when I’m bored, I’ll look this up and take it further. But here’s what I got tonight:

The cool girls smoke. If I smoke, we have something in common. One might ask me for a light, and as a 16 year old kid, that’s all I need as a shoe in to get myself some action (unfortunately that line is drenched in sarcasm. Smoking only ever got me bronchitis ).

But this is the main one I think: “James Dean smoked and he was cool”, I’ve thought this one myself a million times. Yeah, James Dean was cool. He also acted. There’s a fuck load more people in the world who have got famous for doing shit other than smoking. Jim Morrisson, John Lennon, Kurt Cobain, Jack White, in fact pretty much any musician (or actor) of the last 50 years has been seen with a cigarette in their mouths. And they’re cool.

You know who also had a cigarette constantly hanging out of their mouth? My Grandmother. She didn’t however make any impact on the cultural scene. Like the millions of people who do smoke, but don’t produce cool shit, she was a pretty average smoker. I don’t really remember being 18 years old, sitting out the back of my house, playing my acoustic, smoking a roll up and thinking to myself, Hey I’m just like my old Grandma! It never happened. But all this time I’ve been dreaming of one day finding myself on a respectably large stage in front of a respectfully large crowd of people, playing the guitar and singing, because I have the same addictions as all that have been before me? It’s crazy. I’ve always been a fan of David Bowie, but I’m not going to go and shoot up, cos Ziggy and Iggy did.

So I need to keep myself distracted from thinking about smoking. That’s the hardest part. And also, keep an eye on myself that I don’t let myself have a sneaky cigarette. In fact, somewhere between those two points, is the hardest part of giving up. But if I do fail and start again? I can always have a go at quitting again. I’ve forgotten how much of a head rush it is.