Twenty two days since I stopped smoking. Three weeks is also the estimated time for all traces of nicotine to be completely gone from your system. My taste is back, my sense of smell is back and my hair smells smoke free every morning. I am delighted. So much so, that I am barely able to sit still at this desk – but that is very possibly because I am listening to White Zombie at the moment. So it is the ‘foot tapping and one shoulder bouncing’ Friday dance. It hasn’t been without side effects – a box a day for 15 years, I suppose that goes without saying. There are those who find me bitchy, levels of tolerance painfully low. But then there are those you say marvellous things – like I am glowing, look happier and full of energy. I am loving the smells – coffee, dark chocolate, perfume. I love the smell of Opium on my pillow the morning after. The spiciness of red wine. So yes not smoking has been pretty marvellous – but also pretty emotional. When I left the man, I trained myself to just take one day and one moment at a time – I never fully took cognisance of what I was doing. So I have pretty much embraced the same process for not smoking. One day at a time, one event at a time. My biggest fear was getting angry, losing my temper and not having an outlet to calm me down – well I have been though a couple angry moments and – suffered a couple fools – but I made through to the other side – so be it if the other side involved some devil horns, cats claws and fiery eyes. No one should have to ever suffer fools anyway. ‘Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.’ Never better said than in Desiderata.
On the whole my friends have been pretty damn fantastic – I am so incredibly blessed in this regard. But why oh why is my head constantly in the clouds? I am becoming a dedicated day dreamer. This is the time when I really wish I could just be a writer – conjure up a couple of stories –great tales of love and passion and betrayal. Loose myself in characters and plots and scenery. I have just been in such an utterly dramatic, darkly romantic state. It could be because the charming 302 has properly introduced me to the real classics. Last weekend it was To Catch a Thief with the truly beautiful Grace Kelly and manly Carry Grant and the week before I was wholly mesmerised by Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. There is just something so simple and easy about the romance – Man being man and woman being woman. Oh to be in the mountains with nothing but a collection of films, red wines and a lap top – no distractions, no disruptions – my crazy, busy mind would find such solace.
I am really looking forward to this weekend. Looking forward to the company of a gorgeous man with caramel eyes, my wing chic with her tales of romance, my cousins beautiful daughters; their laughter and smiles and hopefully a glass or two of bubbly and some delightful conversation. It is amazing but before my yoga class yesterday – I felt a bit like I was living under a grey cloud – completely distracted and insecure. I don’t know what it is – but something about that class, the movement, the intensity and then the peace that follows – just completely restores me.