Coffin Nails
OK, so my dear LJ and its accompanying audience, I've a confession to make. I've been lying to you. Well, not so much lying as not telling you. Non disclosure of facts. A little white lie, if you will. You see, I've started smoking again. Not insanely, like I used to. I bought a pack about three weeks back and have been working my way through it. Some days I smoke one or two, others I don't at all. The taste of cigarettes in general (I could never understand why people could differentiate between brands, save the intensity of the burn on the back of the throat) has never really appealed to me. I know they are dirty, smelly things. They cause cancer. They taste bad because they ARE bad. Having said this, the nicotine is the only thing which is making a dent to relieve my current mental state, if only to alleviate it for a few minutes.
Cigarettes have been quite an issue for me. I didn't take the normal route into smoking. None of my friends at school smoked, or at least I never hung out with them outside school to know if they did or not, so it wasn't enough to influence me. My introduction into smoking was therefore one of personal, private psychological fuckedupness (yes, it's a word). I started at 18. I had finished my A-Levels and had no clue what to do next. I just knew I didn't want to go to University just yet. In hindsight, I realise I SHOULD have gone to University then and followed the normal path, but in one insane Spring afternoon on the deadline day for notifying the school of what my future choices were (and me not having decided at ALL), I pulled a local College prospectus from the bookshelf and filled in the application. It was not University, but College, which was still school. It was perhaps the worst thing I could have done. And so I set my course for the future - to give the impression of wanting to follow through in a career in Media/Film. It didn't delay my decision making that much, only by a year. I had to then consider which University to go to. So I plucked another prospectus at random again. Well,for a University within driving range from home. I've always had issues with breaking away from home and I wish I didn't. I didn't want to embrace life.
So, I'm going a little off topic. During the summer between getting my A-Level results and starting two year A-level courses at College, I had very little self esteem ("No shit, you don't seem like the kind"). I felt I needed a crutch. An idiosyncrasy. Something which would make me stand out and yet fit in. I knew there would be smokers at College. I guess I wanted to blend in. So, during the summer, I made it my mission to become accustomed to smoking. It sounds ridiculous, I know. I was 18, an adult and yet felt compelled to force something so ugly upon myself with no prompts whatsoever except my own, skewed mind. Well, I became slightly addicted to the nicotine. But not so much as to make me compulsively buy pack after pack. Even though I did. Why? Because I didn't fit into College. They were all 16 year olds and I was 18. Two years difference doesn't sound a lot, but it was. It was an insurmountable gulf. Coupled with my own social anxiety and low self esteem, I found it hard to engratiate myself to the little crowd. The classes were unbelievably poor. I would drive 30mins to College, stand outside smoking til we went inside for a contrived class, an exercise in futility. Every breaktime during classes would be the same. The rest of the crowd would go to the cafeteria and I would be slinking off to the normal Smoking Spot, alone. God, what a waste of two years. A complete waste, so much so that I find it deeply embarrassing. The cherry on the cake was that I aced the exams, even though I did not prepare that well for them. When you ace an exam that you don't prepare for, then the course is either:-
a] fixed, rigged to meet a pass rate quota.
b] unbelievably crap.
I think it was a combination of the two. So smoking was just a habit I continued when I started University. It gave me something to do. I had more friends at Uni than at College, most of whom smoked, so there was a communal thing going on there.
But here's the thing. I never truly got addicted. I mean, I could stop at any time. I know it's a cliche for an addict to say such things, but truly, I could stop smoking tomorrow. It's like Sickboy in Trainspotting, rubbing Renton's nose in it because he can take or leave drugs. I can take or leave smoking. Right now I'm taking it. It's calms for little hiatuses during the day. I know it's bad, it's revolting. It's always been a source of guilt. I've always tried to keep the fact I've smoked away from my parents. They themselves quit after 20 dedicated years, duressed by me and my sister's incessant feigned coughing at pre-puberty. We thought smoking was disgusting. It seems rather hypocritical to just light up in front of them now. They know I smoke though. I drunkenly disclosed the fact at my mother's 50th birthday party. I was 18. Pathetic. I was smoking at Uni and yet still sneaking around, not smoking at home. Pathetic, again.
So, like I said, I can take it or leave it. At the moment, I'm going through a phase of taking. It's in preference to alcohol, which I really need to cut down on. I know I need to cut down on the smoking too. Completely. I will. It's not a problem. I won't be smoking when I'm 30. I'm not a "lifer", never will be. At anything, I guess.
So, that's my confession, rather overstated and drawn out, but there it is.
Cigarettes have been quite an issue for me. I didn't take the normal route into smoking. None of my friends at school smoked, or at least I never hung out with them outside school to know if they did or not, so it wasn't enough to influence me. My introduction into smoking was therefore one of personal, private psychological fuckedupness (yes, it's a word). I started at 18. I had finished my A-Levels and had no clue what to do next. I just knew I didn't want to go to University just yet. In hindsight, I realise I SHOULD have gone to University then and followed the normal path, but in one insane Spring afternoon on the deadline day for notifying the school of what my future choices were (and me not having decided at ALL), I pulled a local College prospectus from the bookshelf and filled in the application. It was not University, but College, which was still school. It was perhaps the worst thing I could have done. And so I set my course for the future - to give the impression of wanting to follow through in a career in Media/Film. It didn't delay my decision making that much, only by a year. I had to then consider which University to go to. So I plucked another prospectus at random again. Well,for a University within driving range from home. I've always had issues with breaking away from home and I wish I didn't. I didn't want to embrace life.
So, I'm going a little off topic. During the summer between getting my A-Level results and starting two year A-level courses at College, I had very little self esteem ("No shit, you don't seem like the kind"). I felt I needed a crutch. An idiosyncrasy. Something which would make me stand out and yet fit in. I knew there would be smokers at College. I guess I wanted to blend in. So, during the summer, I made it my mission to become accustomed to smoking. It sounds ridiculous, I know. I was 18, an adult and yet felt compelled to force something so ugly upon myself with no prompts whatsoever except my own, skewed mind. Well, I became slightly addicted to the nicotine. But not so much as to make me compulsively buy pack after pack. Even though I did. Why? Because I didn't fit into College. They were all 16 year olds and I was 18. Two years difference doesn't sound a lot, but it was. It was an insurmountable gulf. Coupled with my own social anxiety and low self esteem, I found it hard to engratiate myself to the little crowd. The classes were unbelievably poor. I would drive 30mins to College, stand outside smoking til we went inside for a contrived class, an exercise in futility. Every breaktime during classes would be the same. The rest of the crowd would go to the cafeteria and I would be slinking off to the normal Smoking Spot, alone. God, what a waste of two years. A complete waste, so much so that I find it deeply embarrassing. The cherry on the cake was that I aced the exams, even though I did not prepare that well for them. When you ace an exam that you don't prepare for, then the course is either:-
a] fixed, rigged to meet a pass rate quota.
b] unbelievably crap.
I think it was a combination of the two. So smoking was just a habit I continued when I started University. It gave me something to do. I had more friends at Uni than at College, most of whom smoked, so there was a communal thing going on there.
But here's the thing. I never truly got addicted. I mean, I could stop at any time. I know it's a cliche for an addict to say such things, but truly, I could stop smoking tomorrow. It's like Sickboy in Trainspotting, rubbing Renton's nose in it because he can take or leave drugs. I can take or leave smoking. Right now I'm taking it. It's calms for little hiatuses during the day. I know it's bad, it's revolting. It's always been a source of guilt. I've always tried to keep the fact I've smoked away from my parents. They themselves quit after 20 dedicated years, duressed by me and my sister's incessant feigned coughing at pre-puberty. We thought smoking was disgusting. It seems rather hypocritical to just light up in front of them now. They know I smoke though. I drunkenly disclosed the fact at my mother's 50th birthday party. I was 18. Pathetic. I was smoking at Uni and yet still sneaking around, not smoking at home. Pathetic, again.
So, like I said, I can take it or leave it. At the moment, I'm going through a phase of taking. It's in preference to alcohol, which I really need to cut down on. I know I need to cut down on the smoking too. Completely. I will. It's not a problem. I won't be smoking when I'm 30. I'm not a "lifer", never will be. At anything, I guess.
So, that's my confession, rather overstated and drawn out, but there it is.