August 21, 2004 - 12:43 a.m.
Where Is My Heart?
It sure ain't in San Francisco. My body is here currently, but I'm a little concerned about my mental state. Rob tries to convince me that I've got a lot on my plate right now: start of the school year, a trip, quitting smoking, a boyfriend out of town, and hormones a little askew.
One of the biggest issues, I feel, is that I quit smoking. It's been 7 years since I started in earnest, and that's about 6 1/2 years longer than I intended to smoke. After my trip to Costa Rica with my father, I realized just how deep his hatred for smokers is. I have never smoked around him, and our trip cemented my belief that I never will. The last cigarette I smoked was on the morning of August 3, 2004.
It's interesting to me that I quit because of my father more immediately than because of health concerns. I have long been contemplating quitting for the health ramifications, but my father's disapproval was what really spurred me on.
It's not often that I want to smoke a cigarette, but the moments when I've really craved them have surprised me. I stopped drinking for a while because of my close connection between drinking and smoking. Now, I get really tipsy on one glass of wine, and by three, I'm falling asleep. (I guess this makes me a cheap date!) Cigarette desire hasn't really popped up in my drinking moments (perhaps because I'm always more intent on getting to bed.) Instead, it's driving to school for my 8:30 class, but not my 11:00 class. It's when a friend calls and I wander around the yard on the telephone. These are the moments where I'd consider giving my right arm for a cigarette.
I really do feel that quitting is negatively affecting my mood, turning me into a surly bitch much more often than I'm comfortable with. I'm certainly not going to start smoking to ameliorate my mood, though. It will get better, won't it? I won't spend the rest of my life as a surly bitch who can't stay away after a couple drinks? Aargh.
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