<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344</id><updated>2011-04-21T21:49:31.280-07:00</updated><title type='text'>no smoakes</title><subtitle type='html'>I'm quitting smoking soon, and a friend convinced me that I should tell the world about it.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>51</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2905368</id><published>2001-03-23T11:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-03-23T11:21:46.153-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today is my six week mark. I actually went of the patch for a little... Last weekend I stayed at a friends house and forgot my patches... and decided when I got back home that if I'd gone two days without them maybe I didn't need them anymore. But then, work got really stressful and I started thinking about smokes every second, so I put the patch back on. I'm using the smallest ones. Only 7mg. And overall, I guess i'm doing great. Still wanting to smoke a little, but NOT smoking and that's all that matters, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2905368?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2905368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2905368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_03_18_archive.html#2905368' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2761232</id><published>2001-03-13T10:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-03-13T11:08:34.993-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Yesterday I was sitting at a table and everyone around me was smoking... It was the first time I had people right next to me smoking since I quit, and I was okay.&lt;br /&gt;So that was pretty cool.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2761232?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2761232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2761232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_03_11_archive.html#2761232' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2706992</id><published>2001-03-09T10:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-03-09T11:09:24.076-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A month. Some days are still impossible. But overall, I think it's a little bit easier. People are helping a lot. I'm on the smallest patches now. It's going pretty okay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2706992?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2706992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2706992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_03_04_archive.html#2706992' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2642578</id><published>2001-03-05T10:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-03-05T10:18:18.340-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Breathing has become extremely unpleasant. It hurts. Alot. I was told that this would happen, as my lungs started cleaning themselves out, but I just didn't realize how unpleasant it would be. It was the worst on Friday night, when I got no sleep because I kept waking up in pain. Hopefully it won't last long. At least now, when I want a cigarette, I can breath in hard and the craving goes away. &lt;br /&gt;Everyone told me I should drink huge amounts of water. It was a hard change, because I've been drinking about twelve diet cokes a day for years. Now though, I suddenly am just crazy about water. I love it. I think I've been dehydrated for the last decade. When I get thirsty, I actually want to drink water, instead of soda. It's amazing. I feel so great.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2642578?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2642578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2642578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_03_04_archive.html#2642578' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2605464</id><published>2001-03-02T13:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-03-02T13:43:20.016-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Three weeks today. Wow. I haven't had a smoke in three weeks. That's really hard to believe. It's definitely getting easier. Not easy, but not as horrible as it was at first. I still kind of think of myself as a smoker, and that's something everyone says you need to change. But, I'm doing it. three weeks. goddamn.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2605464?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2605464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2605464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_25_archive.html#2605464' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2587707</id><published>2001-03-01T09:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-03-01T09:55:03.556-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm feeling pretty damn good. Last night, I was in the most dangerous non-smoking situation ever -- outside, in a crowd of around fifty people, many of whom knew one another, many of whom were more than a little intimidating, few of whom I knew, many of whom were smoking, and I DID NOT SMOKE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man, I rock.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2587707?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2587707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2587707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_25_archive.html#2587707' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2564799</id><published>2001-02-27T20:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-27T20:52:53.990-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I just rode on the exercycle for one minute longer than I've ever been able to ride on it before. I wonder if that's because of quitting smoking? Neat.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2564799?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2564799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2564799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_25_archive.html#2564799' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2564441</id><published>2001-02-27T20:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-27T20:20:10.246-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Not smoking when you're angry just REALLY sucks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2564441?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2564441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2564441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_25_archive.html#2564441' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2559128</id><published>2001-02-27T13:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-27T14:02:06.220-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>There has GOT to be SOMETHING that will make me stop wanting to smoke so much.&lt;br /&gt;Aside from Zyban and the patch, obviously.&lt;br /&gt;I'm a cranky monster all the time, and I hate that. But I just want to claw off all my skin or something.&lt;br /&gt;Man.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2559128?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2559128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2559128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_25_archive.html#2559128' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2557830</id><published>2001-02-27T12:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-27T12:30:11.260-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's insane... It's been two weeks and four days and twelve hours and STILL, all I can think about is wanting a cigarette. I thought it would get easier. Well, maybe it is, and I'm just forgetting how bad it was... But it sure SEEMS just as hard. Man. A friend asked me yesterday if I have any hobbies to help distract me. I don't. So, not only am I probably going to be a failure at this quitting thing, I am also very, very boring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh! And yesterday, a coworker who's been bugging me to quit for months, suddenly looked at me and said, "You've put on a lot of weight."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2557830?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2557830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2557830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_25_archive.html#2557830' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2556767</id><published>2001-02-27T11:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-27T11:11:43.730-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm doing it. It's just stupid how hard this is. My dad (who knows everything) told me again last night that crying alot when you're quitting is normal, so that's a relief.&lt;br /&gt;Man. This just sucks so much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2556767?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2556767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2556767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_25_archive.html#2556767' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2545297</id><published>2001-02-26T16:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-26T16:54:14.200-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okay, for right now I'm not going to smoke, even though I want to more than anything else in this world. I'm just going to hold on tight and believe the people who keep telling me it will be worth it. Thank goodness for the people who are helping me with this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2545297?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2545297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2545297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_25_archive.html#2545297' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2541784</id><published>2001-02-26T12:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-26T12:46:34.596-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Maybe it's just too much. Maybe I just can't do it. I mean, I'm going to keep trying, but I just don't know. I can barely remember why I wanted to quit in the first place. Better health, but who cares? We're all going to die anyway. And yeah, I want kids and blah blah blah, but if I end up never having them I'll feel pretty stupid for quitting for nothing. Maybe none of this is worth not smoking.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2541784?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2541784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2541784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_25_archive.html#2541784' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2540775</id><published>2001-02-26T11:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-26T11:27:45.316-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Fuck me, I want a cigarette. I hate the entire universe and I want a cigarette. Hate hate hate, want want want. I'm just a big ball of hateful nicotine cravings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2540775?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2540775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2540775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_25_archive.html#2540775' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2503357</id><published>2001-02-23T14:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-23T15:01:04.833-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm feeling a lot better... And I'm feeling really good now about the two weeks thing. It's hard to believe... I've sorta-kinda tried to quit before, but I don't think I've gone a whole two weeks with a single cigarette before this...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2503357?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2503357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2503357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_18_archive.html#2503357' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2501933</id><published>2001-02-23T13:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-23T13:17:43.076-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Well, it's my two week mark. And I guess I should feel really excited and good. But I feel all shaky and drained today, and even though I KNOW smoking would make it much worse I FEEL like having even part of a cigarette, even just one tiny drag, would make everything okay. I don't know why I suddenly feel like this today... All stressed and crazy. All I can think about is how much I want a smoke. I actually went and cried a bit ago, just cried about wanting to smoke and not being able to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was warned that this would happen. I'm drinking alot of water and trying to stay distracted. Friends are helping a lot with that, so it's all good. It'll be okay. I'm NOT going to smoke, I'm just going to want one for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And hey, it's been two weeks!  If I can do it for two weeks, I can do it forever. No problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2501933?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2501933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2501933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_18_archive.html#2501933' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2470178</id><published>2001-02-21T11:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-21T11:48:11.303-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okay, it's been a week and five days now. I know I haven't updated this in ages... Things are going pretty well with it. I still want one most of the time, but it has certainly gotten easier. Sometimes I even think of myself as a nonsmoker, which is amazing. It's still so hard though. If I'd known how hard it was going to be, I don't know if I would have had the nerve to quit. But, now that I've gone through it all I just can't start again, because I'd have to have those first few days of quitting again and I never want to go through that ever ever ever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2470178?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2470178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2470178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_18_archive.html#2470178' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2403134</id><published>2001-02-16T12:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-16T12:43:58.613-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>For some reason, a little bit ago, I suddenly wanted a cigarette so bad I actually went into the ladies room and cried. Very bizarre. I still want one, but not as much as a few minutes ago.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2403134?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2403134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2403134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_11_archive.html#2403134' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2402145</id><published>2001-02-16T11:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-16T11:21:14.893-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today is my one week aniversary!!! It's going well... It's still very hard but getting easier all the time. I know I can't let my guard down, and I still want to smoke alot of the time, but not like a few days ago. I have gained weight, though. That's a problem. I got up early today and exercised (first time in my life I've ever done that) and I'm hoping that now that I'm not suffering quite as much I'll eat a little less. It's awful to be so proud of myself for quitting, and at the same time hating myself for being fat. I'm probably going to a club tonight, and that's going to be hard, because even though people can't smoke inside the club, they'll all be hanging around outside and I'll want to join them. But, I'll be with friends who will help me be strong. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2402145?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2402145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2402145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_11_archive.html#2402145' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2375735</id><published>2001-02-14T15:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-14T15:14:16.470-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It seems a little bit easier today. Not easy... but better. When I got home yesterday I rode the lifecycle for a while, and didn't particularly want to smoke for the rest of the evening. SO, that's something I think I'll start doing often. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2375735?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2375735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2375735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_11_archive.html#2375735' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2363244</id><published>2001-02-13T14:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-13T14:37:20.686-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's been more than four and a half days now. It's startling to realize all the things that make me reach for a cigarette... When I feel sad or angry or stressed, it seems like the only thing that will make it better is smoking... I want a cigarette all the time but during those times I feel like I will just die if I don't have one. It's crazy, I wonder at what point smoking became such a comforting, calming thing for me. After I'd been smoking for a month? A year? Five years? Of course, I think that what it really was was not the smoking itself so much as the act of stopping and being still and getting away from the situation. Or, maybe not. Who the hell knows. It's just hard. I feel crazy all the time. I feel almost violent. My hands are shaking. Wow, I just want to wrap my lips around it and suck and feel the soft smoke fill my lungs... Okay! Think about other things! Must distract myself! Oh man oh man oh man.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2363244?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2363244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2363244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_11_archive.html#2363244' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2362274</id><published>2001-02-13T13:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-13T13:28:18.550-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A coworker who has never smoked in her life just told me that quitting smoking really isn't hard once you make up your mind to do it. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2362274?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2362274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2362274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_11_archive.html#2362274' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2361528</id><published>2001-02-13T12:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-13T12:32:48.130-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I want a cigarette more than I want to live. I hate everything about everything and most of all I hate not smoking. Hate hate hate. This was a stupid idea.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2361528?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2361528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2361528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_11_archive.html#2361528' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2359930</id><published>2001-02-13T10:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-13T10:13:43.680-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm a little better this morning. Not perfect, but definitely better. For some reason last night it was just awful, but now I feel like it's probably going to be okay. Not fun, but okay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2359930?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2359930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2359930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_11_archive.html#2359930' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2354354</id><published>2001-02-12T22:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-13T10:08:09.646-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This is horrible. This is almost unbearable. I want to scream. I want to break things. I want to tear open my own chest with my bare hands and rip out my lungs and stomp on them. I can't believe this. This is hard. This is beyond hard. I thought I was doing okay, and now, all of a sudden, it's just insane.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2354354?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2354354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2354354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_11_archive.html#2354354' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2344843</id><published>2001-02-12T10:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-12T10:09:45.023-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Well, it's been three days. More than three days. It's been awful, but I've done it. I hung out all weekend with my friend Jenni, and she did a great job of keeping me distracted and busy. We had fun, and she was really wonderfully forgiving when I got cranky sometimes. It's gotten a little easier, I think. Not much, though. Sitting at my desk makes it hard, because when I finish a task I used to go downstairs and have a smoke before I started the next one. So, sitting at my desk makes me think about how much I'd like to be smoking, a little more than I think about it other places. I'm drinking lots of water, and chewing gum and eating Twizzlers. Twizzlers and gum are the only sweets I am allowing myself now... I'd probably be happier if I ate MMs all day but I'd also be fatter. I keep sort of checking myself for differences now that it's been three days. Jenni says my teeth look a little whiter, and it seems like maybe I can breathe in more deeply. I'm coughing a lot, which I was told would happen. I was also told that by now my senses of taste and smell would be sharper, and I don't really notice that. But, that sort of thing can be difficult to gauge. Now I think of it, after my housemate cooked sausages last night, the smell did seem to linger longer than usual. I guess it's getting a little bit easier not to smoke. I think of it every other second, instead of every second. That's something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2344843?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2344843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2344843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_11_archive.html#2344843' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2318241</id><published>2001-02-10T03:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-10T03:19:16.513-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's been more than twenty four hours since my last cigarette. It's awful and I hate it. But, you know, even if I start smoking again tomorrow, I know I have to quit someday, when I have kids or cancer, and I might as well just finish quitting now, rather than go through another first day. People have been really great, sending me emails and all. It's really amazing how supportive and wonderful people can be, even people who don't know me all that well. It's been a huge help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh jeez I want a cigarette.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone says it gets easier but what if it doesn't? What if I'm somehow the exception, and everyday forever is like this one has been? Fuck. But, I suppose you can get used to anything. Maybe that's how it gets easier... the pain doesn't go away, you just stop minding so much.&lt;br /&gt;I think I'll choose to believe that the pain goes away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight at a party I was talking to this guy I'd just met, and he asked why I was fidgeting(I was flipping a quarter across my knuckles to make up for the lack of a cig in my hand) and I told him I'd just quit smoking after 15 years. And his eyes got really big and he said, "How old ARE you?" Oooops. So I told him I'd started smoking when I was three.&lt;br /&gt;Twizzlers are marvelous things. I bite them to the length of a cigarette and pretend to smoke them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should sleep. I just want to sleep forever, and not wake up until I don't want a cigarette anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe I made it a whole day. My body seems to be furious with me right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2318241?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2318241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2318241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_04_archive.html#2318241' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2312131</id><published>2001-02-09T15:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-09T15:09:37.616-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I didn't smoke. I did not give up after all. Came close, though. Oh man oh man oh man.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2312131?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2312131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2312131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_04_archive.html#2312131' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2312085</id><published>2001-02-09T14:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-09T15:01:51.253-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I can't do it. I'm going to smoke. I give up. I'm weak, I'm pathetic, I don't care, all that matters is that I have a cigarette.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2312085?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2312085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2312085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_04_archive.html#2312085' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2312021</id><published>2001-02-09T14:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-09T14:49:45.906-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I am absolutly, definitely NOT going to have a cigarette. Now, or ever. But boy am I going to want one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2312021?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2312021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2312021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_04_archive.html#2312021' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2310996</id><published>2001-02-09T12:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-09T12:40:23.326-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It feels a little easier right now. I know it will be hard again in a few minutes, but right now I don't want a cigarette. It's been 12 hours and 11 minutes. I've saved $2.16 so far. ( I got this great quit meter at www.silkquit.org)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2310996?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2310996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2310996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_04_archive.html#2310996' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2310739</id><published>2001-02-09T12:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-09T12:17:04.253-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I don't care. I don't care. I just want to smoke.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2310739?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2310739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2310739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_04_archive.html#2310739' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2309860</id><published>2001-02-09T10:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-09T10:49:58.470-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Candy is bullshit. Candy does nothing. I need to smoke. I have to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I'm going to have to quit eventually so it might as well be now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH, THIS SUCKS SO MUCH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't care about being healthy or any of that. I just want to smoke.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2309860?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2309860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2309860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_04_archive.html#2309860' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2309726</id><published>2001-02-09T10:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-09T10:36:27.606-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I want a cigarette. I really want to smoke. This is not fun. This is not fun at all. I'm drinking water, I'm chewing gum, I have a whole arsenal of candy under my desk. I WANT TO SMOKE. I feel like my chest is going to explode, or something. My lungs itch. My mouth is going insane.&lt;br /&gt;The weirdest part is I keep forgetting. This morning when I was getting ready to leave the house, I checked to see if I had my smokes with me. And while I was driving, I KEPT reaching for a cigarette. My dad says he still does that sometimes, after almost twenty years. &lt;br /&gt;This is hard. This is really, really hard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2309726?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2309726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2309726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_04_archive.html#2309726' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2301237</id><published>2001-02-08T17:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-08T17:35:59.970-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Found some pictures online of healthy and unhealthy lungs, and I made them into my desktop picture. REALLY gross, but maybe looking at that and thinking of what my own lungs must look like will help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2301237?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2301237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2301237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_04_archive.html#2301237' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2300660</id><published>2001-02-08T16:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-08T16:43:35.090-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My coworkers all know that I'm quitting tomorrow, and they're being way supportive, so that will help. I want a smoke right now but don't feel like going outside in the cold. It's kind of nice to think that I won't have to do that sort of thing anymore... Won't have to keep going outside, won't have to worry every second about whether I have enough cigarettes to last me till I make it to the store... All of that will be good. Lots of it will suck, but some parts will be good.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2300660?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2300660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2300660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_04_archive.html#2300660' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2295769</id><published>2001-02-08T10:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-08T10:12:54.130-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So, this is the last day. This morning I was looking at my nearly full pack of camel lights and I realized that this was probably the last pack of cigarettes I'd ever own. It made me feel sort of sad and sentimental, which surprised me.  A friend said it's losing your 20 best friends, and that really is how it feels. Like you're giving up something that's always been there for you.&lt;br /&gt;I've been taking the Zyban, and I've got the patch all ready to put on in the morning. I have a ton of candy to have with me in the office while I try to work and try not to scream.&lt;br /&gt;I'm prepared, I hope. Goodness, I hope.&lt;br /&gt;I don't really feel ready. But, that's because I'm afraid. I don't know what I could do to be readier.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2295769?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2295769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2295769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_04_archive.html#2295769' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2286997</id><published>2001-02-07T17:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-07T17:24:19.246-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I haven't had a smoke in about three hours, not because I don't want to but because things are too hectic for me to run outside. It's a sort of preview of Friday, and it's scary because three hours isn't very long, and I'm going a bit crazy already. Oh dear. What's Friday going to be like?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2286997?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2286997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2286997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_04_archive.html#2286997' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2283152</id><published>2001-02-07T12:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-07T12:50:26.783-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So, it’s day after tomorrow. I’m scared. But, everyone has been so amazingly supportive. It’s been a big help; the way people are encouraging me. I haven’t been smoking in my car for the past few days, to try to get out of the habit. I have an hour commute, so I don’t smoke now until I’ve been up for a while. And I have been smoking less, I think. But, still, when stressful things happen I run straight for it. I just changed positions at work, more or less unwillingly (my options were to take the change or to quit… it’s still up in the air) and my new position is much less fun and much much MUCH more stressful. So, that’s going to be a problem. It’s going to make it harder. The last few days, the way I escape out of here is to go smoke, and I’m not sure what I’ll do instead.&lt;br /&gt;Everyone says that a major thing is to drink lots of water, and so I’ve been doing that. My friend Dean said at least a gallon a day. That’s a lot of water. Really a lot. All I do is go to the ladies room. I’ve been getting some dirty looks already for how often I leave.&lt;br /&gt;I’ve decided that even though I’m determined not to gain too much weight when I quit, on Friday I’m going to just go ahead and stuff my face. I’ve already bought Twizzlers and M&amp;Ms and chips and things. &lt;br /&gt;I’ve started exercising, and I’m hoping that will help. And, maybe I’ll notice how much easier it is to breathe after I quit. I don’t know how soon that happens, though.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2283152?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2283152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2283152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_02_04_archive.html#2283152' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2213489</id><published>2001-02-01T22:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-02-01T22:46:50.780-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So, I’ve been on the Zyban for a few days. I’ve noticed that I seem to go longer without remembering to smoke, but only when things are calm. If I get stressed or sad I smoke just as much. The zyban makes me a little drowsy, but that seems to be the only side effect. I think. The problem is, I keep wondering if things are side effects. Like if I’m hungry, or not hungry, or angry at someone, or cheerful, I wonder if it’s being caused by the drug. The only one I’m sure of is that it makes me drowsy. It sort of makes me feel like my head is full of cotton wool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of friends told me they’ve read this, so that’s cool. At first I was certain that the only one who was going to read it was Colin (the guy who got me to start it), and I wondered why I didn’t just email him. But, at least two other people have read it now, and I feel justified in typing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2213489?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2213489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2213489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_01_28_archive.html#2213489' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2139737</id><published>2001-01-27T00:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-01-27T00:07:51.386-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The doctor gave me a prescription for Zyban, and that makes me happy.  From what I’ve heard, it might help a lot. And supposedly it makes it less likely that you will gain much weight. That is a very good thing.&lt;br /&gt;It’s amazing to me now that starting smoking ever seemed like a good idea. I remember it very clearly, though. My first cigarette. I was thirteen, and my friend Lise and I were walking to the store after dark. We were only allowed to do this because her older brother Marty, who was fifteen or sixteen, had agreed to come with us. Marty was the cutest boy in the world, and I had a gigantic crush on him. I was trying to think of a way to impress him with my maturity when he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. I asked him for one like I’d smoke a thousand times. He said no, I was too young, teasing me, and just when I thought he was serious I looked up and saw that he was lighting two at once. He handed one to me and I inhaled and it was menthol and I liked it and hated it. If it had been a regular cigarette I probably wouldn’t have smoked again, but I liked the tingly feelings in my lungs. I was so excited by my first smoke that I confessed, I didn’t care. Marty never did get into me and for years I blamed it on the way I blurted that out. Then I ran into him years later and realized that the boy I’d been so devoted to me was gay. But, by then I was addicted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2139737?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2139737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2139737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_01_21_archive.html#2139737' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2133201</id><published>2001-01-26T12:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-01-26T12:40:55.840-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>In a little while I'm going to the doctor to hopefully get a prescription for Zyban. It's up to him if I get it or not. I was so proud of myself for actually calling and making an appointment (I never get around to doing that sort of thing) that it seems like that's all I should have to do... But, no, I have to drive all the way to Pasadena in the rain and talk to the guy. I was trying to think of what I should say to make him most likely to give me the prescription, but then I realized that A. I have no idea what I could say to convince him and B. I genuinly think it would be a good and helpful thing for me, so I'm just going to be honest about it all. I want Zyban because I think it would help me succeed in quitting. So there. Wish me luck!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2133201?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2133201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2133201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_01_21_archive.html#2133201' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2113062</id><published>2001-01-24T23:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-01-24T23:28:58.510-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I talked to the Kaiser telephone quitting counselor today. She has a much fancier title than that, but I’m damned if I remember what it was. I liked her. She had some good suggestions about things I can do instead of smoking and all that. But when I told her that I often want to smoke when I get pissed off at people (we had to Target Our Smoking Triggers) she suggested I sign up with an anger management program. I was just kidding when I said it was a choice between smoking and hitting them. &lt;br /&gt;To get Zyban, I have to visit my doctor and show my certificate that proves I’m in a quitting program, and then my doctor decides if I should get it. Since the last time I saw her it was for a sore throat and she barely had me open my mouth but instead lectured me about smoking for an hour, I think  I’ll get it. (Wow, now I think about it, maybe she did and didn’t do all that because I had smokers breath.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So! February ninth. It’s fast approaching. Fuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2113062?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2113062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2113062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_01_21_archive.html#2113062' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2058362</id><published>2001-01-21T02:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-01-21T02:08:21.220-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It seems like now that I'm so positive that I'm going to quit in the next few weeks I'm actually smoking more to make up for it. I don't see how that could be a good thing. Oh dear.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2058362?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2058362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2058362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_01_21_archive.html#2058362' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2047277</id><published>2001-01-20T02:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-01-20T02:55:00.696-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I forgot to call the Kaiser people today. Not because I am intentionally putting it off, but because I am an idiot and forgot. I'll do it monday, or tomorrow if they are available on weekends.&lt;br /&gt;The menthols really did make me vomit, I mean literally, so my next pack will be some gross brand that is not menthol. Besides, they made my lungs hurt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2047277?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2047277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2047277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_01_14_archive.html#2047277' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2039258</id><published>2001-01-19T12:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-01-19T12:01:50.476-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So the first thing is, I'm supposed to only smoke cigs that I hate. So, I just bought a pack of Newport Menthols. Gross gross gross. Oh my goodness, I thought I was going to puke the whole time I was smoking. And it sure takes care of that whole "smoking makes you look cool" thing, because the look on my face could not have been attractive. yuck. I'm dreading my next smoke break already. Blech.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2039258?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2039258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2039258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_01_14_archive.html#2039258' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2037641</id><published>2001-01-19T09:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-01-19T09:51:32.073-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I got the packet of information from Kaiser, and last night I read their Stop Smoking booklet. It scared me to death. Man, it's going to be hard to quit. I mean, really really hard. What do I do when I get frustrated and I can't get something to work right on the computer and my annoying coworker is leaning on me and everyone is driving me crazy? Kill them? Smash the monitor strip off all my clothes and scream? I can't imagine not having a cigarette during those times.&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to try, I mean the worst that can happen is I can fail and then I'll be smoking again. So, I'm going to try to quit. But man, it's not going to be fun.&lt;br /&gt;The booklet made me list my reasons to quit. I didn't realize I had so many. So, that was good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2037641?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2037641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2037641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_01_14_archive.html#2037641' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-2013093</id><published>2001-01-17T15:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-01-17T15:12:51.073-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night I saw this commercial, this woman with emphazema was talking about how she should have quit smoking. It was very touching. Then at the end, she makes the comment, "The cigarette companies did everything they could to keep me from quitting."&lt;br /&gt;That is the stupidest bullshit I've ever fucking heard. I mean, my fucking god. A. they didn't do EVERYTHING they could do. They didn't send people to her house everyday to encourage her to smoke. and B., why shouldn't they try to sell their product. The people at Hersheys are trying to ruin my diet, but so fucking what?&lt;br /&gt;Man that shit pisses me off. She smoked because she fucking wanted to. Man.&lt;br /&gt;So, I'm gonna quit, but I promise I'll never blame the people who make the smokes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-2013093?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2013093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/2013093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_01_14_archive.html#2013093' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-1986615</id><published>2001-01-15T17:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-01-15T17:25:51.280-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>When they say they use Behavior Modification, what do you suppose they mean? Especially since I'll only be dealing with them over the phone. Do they yell in my ear really loud when I smoke?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-1986615?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/1986615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/1986615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_01_14_archive.html#1986615' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-1985781</id><published>2001-01-15T16:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-01-15T16:22:37.860-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okay, I called the Quit Smoking HelpLine at Kaiser. When I spoke to them before they were being way irritating and unhelpful about getting me Zyban and all, saying I had to take a quit smoking class that I couldn't possibly get to with my work schedule. But, this time I got someone a lot more helpful, who said that I could do a Telephone Counseling Program with a Smoking Cessation Specialist instead.&lt;br /&gt;We set a Quit Date: 2-09-01&lt;br /&gt;So, in a few days I get this Packet of Information, called a Decide Guide.&lt;br /&gt;I read it, I fill out pages 9, 22, and 23.&lt;br /&gt;I send it in.&lt;br /&gt;The SCS calls me, and we talk. The lady on the phone said they use behavior modification. I told her about how in college we remembered BF Skinner's name by saying "the Big Fucking Skinhead will kick your ass till you get it right" and she laughed, which made me happy.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, so after I talk to the SCS she will Asess My Needs and then (hopefully) send me a priscription for Zyban.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my biggest worries about quitting smoking is that I'll get fat. I don't want to get fat. I'm dating this porn star guy and he gives me a hard time about smoking, but I bet he won't be that into me if I get all fat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-1985781?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/1985781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/1985781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_01_14_archive.html#1985781' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856344.post-1984993</id><published>2001-01-15T15:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-01-15T15:19:27.646-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okay, so I'm thinking about quitting smoking. I'm pretty sure I'm going to give it a shot. I'm 29 and I've  been smoking since I was fourteen. I really kind of like smoking, but I'm thinking more and more about just how bad it is for me, and how bad I smell and how when I get a cold it lasts forever, and I've heard that there might be a causational relationship there. so, I'm going to quit. I want to try zyban, that drug they say will help. I'm not sure my HMO will give it to me. i'm gonna try. Also the patch. Maybe the gum too. I'm scared to quit, but I'm going to try. Also, my best friend quit about six weeks ago so I have no one to smoke with and that makes it lonely and less fun. Also, another friend of mine is giving me shit every two seconds and I kind of want to do it just to make him shut up. This blogger thing was his idea.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1856344-1984993?l=smoakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/1984993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1856344/posts/default/1984993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smoakes.blogspot.com/2001_01_14_archive.html#1984993' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11409865926355151187</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
