All Up in Smoke

Do you ever feeeeeel as if you don't actually know how you feel?  You're feeling something.  But the feelings you're feeling?  You can't put a name on them?  And you're feeling and you're feeling and.....

Great!  I've confused myself even more, which is fine.  I'm forty.  Instant forgiveness.  When you get to my age, remember the three F's.  @*#?!/:(#.  O_O!  Oooooooooops!  Not those...those do come in handy at times, for the taxi drivers on the road, A-HEM....but?!?  I was referring to thessssse...Fine, forty, forgiveness. 

Baaaaaack to the matter at hand.  This confused feelings issue...Is it a woman thing? 

A human thing? 

F-feel free to jump in at any time. 

A full moon thing? 

Aaaaaaaaaaaargh!

YOH-YOH!  That's it!  It's an aaaaaaaaaaargh thing!   -_-  I've no idea why I just said, "Yoh-yoh!"  Probably these hip-hop dance clothes I'm wearing.  They turn you gangsta.  LOL...I can hear Geese right now, " Ohhhh yeah!  You’re gangsta!  Meanwhile?  Let a cockroach come-a-crawling...You’ll be a gangsta, running and hiding behind me!"  Hahahahhahaha!

And see?  This is why I enjoy writing.  It allows you to sort through the uncertainties that have been plaguing you for days and weeks.  You get to throw some suggestions out there, hope someone, somewhere is reading.  Until something clicks and you find yourself yelling, “YOH-YOH!” and blaming your clothing.

I was excited okayyyy.......'Cause those are the types of conversations I've been having with myself lately.   Just,...."Why did I....Aaaaaaaaargh!"  "Sometimes you reallllllllly...Aaaaaaargh!"  "@+?#*?@ Aaaaaaaaargh! I woke up!"  

Deep, huh? 

Enthralling?!   

No?

Aaaaaaaaaarghy? 

Hey!  Come-onnnnnnnn now.  I gotta get ready for work, you can't have me sitting here all morning tryna find a suitable word for the types of conversations I have with myself.  How about we just go with...with, aaaaaaaarghy...conversations?  Protest all you want.  It’s my blog.  I get to choose.  Nevermind, you have them too.  You just never knew until now....see?  We're here...(Two finger motion from my infected eyes to yours, I don't know if yours are infected, so I just said, yours.....I'm not here to offend....two finger motion from blah blah blah...to portray understanding between two people).

Sitting here.  I've become somewhat of a chain smoker.  My poor lungs.  “Lungs?  I’m very sorry for being this abusive.”  I guess I should make a note that those are to be excluded from my organ donation.  Sigh.  It might sound as if I’m taking this lightly, but the truth is that I know I need to stop smoking.  But like all bad habits are?  Possessive.  Smoking is too.  If your will is not as strong as it should be?  Nicotine easily becomes one of your best friends.  While it slowwwwwwwly kills you...dead.      

I'm not alone too.  Well?  I am.  Alone.  Geese is farrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.  But I'm not, in this whole smoking thing.  We were chatting on the soccer grounds and the subject of smoking came up where?  While I'd already come to the like conclusion?  Hehehehe, sounds cute huh?  Like conclusion.  One of the ladies admitted that, it's her company.  She's a single mother, just like I am.  Lives with her son.  And I whispered to myself, no.  My mind whispered to myself.  Before you think I go around whispering to myself in public...."Thannnnnnnnk goodness!  I'm not going crazy, afterall!" 

Funny thing is?  I thought that I was and I found myself blogging about the very same thing about two weeks ago and then?  Promptly, deleted everything I’d typed.  I can't tell you why.  Hmmmmmmmmm, actually?  No, I can.  I thought I was crazy for thinking that because I was lonely?  You know how it is when you have no adult company.  When you have no company other than those you bore?  Where all I seem to be doing with one is schoolwork, my earned complimentary teachers degree should be ready and waiting for me after this year is out.........and the other one has bound herself to her girl cave and only emerges when it is time to eat, shower or tell me something funny that Summer did during the day.  Maybe I should remove her door? 

I'm cooking. 

Not now.  Now, I'm on my way to work.  Not to worrrrrry, Wendy's driving.  I’m talking about the evening that I realized that I was in the midst of having a special relationship with my Kent...Specials.  I'm cookinnnnnng, stir, stir, stir...bang, bang, bang (the sound of the spoon against the rim of the pot)....close the pot and I sit down.  I’m looking around and the kitchen cupboards appeared to have been about to say something but then shut back up.  They were like, “We’re hanging.  That’s more than we can say for anyone else you know.”  At that point, somewhere inside of me hoped that the cutlery would start a little tête-à-tête, but they too, were pleading the 5^th. 

I musta just finished smoke a cigarette about twenty minutes before everything in my kitchen felt just cold and unfriendly.  Dunno what I expected from wood and metal, but anyway.  I light another cigarette and stare outa the kitchen window.  Can you see it in your mind's eye?  Okay, good.  Lemme tell you something.  Even if you forgot?  The burn in your throat will quickly let you know, “You just smoked fool!  What are you doing, lighting up another cigarette?”  Wendy and I sometimes look at each other, “You know?  We’re just being greedy.  We just smoked.”  Why?  Because our throats are on fire to the point where neither of us are even enjoying that cigarette, but habit and nicotine greed threw us down the stairs and outa the building, and there we are....smoking again.

It was in the kitchen, on that quiet night, while my throat was ablaze, that I admitted to myself that I’m using these cigarettes as compensation for the fact that I feel lonesome.  Which is...not...good.  I found myself being forced to start writing about it there and then and even as I sit here now, writing this?  I still remember how I started that blog too....sitting alone on a swivel chair, smoking....

And lemme just say this.  I’m not as much, whining about the fact that I’m lonely, I made the choices that got me to this point.  This is about, you annnnnd me, taking that first step to honestly look at our addictions and work through the reasons, we have them.  Maybe from there, we can go to the next step...I don’t know yet what that is...Have I stopped smoking?  Not.  Yet!  Maybe the next step then, would be to, one day at a time, try to reduce our interaction with whatever it is that we’re compensating with.  Until finally, we don’t need them anymore.