I decided to quit smoking in the wake of the September 11th attacks. As the aftermath of those attacks wore on, I realized that all my smoking, drinking, and drug use represented not very constructive ways of coping with loneliness. I decided to refrain from drinking and pot smoking on the nights I had to myself in my apartment, and my success at those efforts gave me the confidence to take a stab at quitting smoking.
In the months that followed, talk flowed freely about the prospect of more terrorist attacks against the United States, including the prospect of a nuclear terrorist attack. I relapsed on the cigarette smoking after about two months of successfully quitting in my initial effort to stop smoking over the prospect of a nuclear terrorist attack. But, somewhere along the way, I said to myself, "What if it really is about quitting smoking and trying to take better care of myself over all? Suppose I continue to smoke two packs or more a day and never get blown up by a terrorist's bomb? I'd feel like a real asshole then." Well, it's been eighteen years since I last had a cigarette, and I personally have not been subjected to a terrorist attack of any kind. That's not to say terrorist attacks are not a real threat, but in my case, if I'd continued smoking like I was, I'd either be dead by now or wish I were dead from all the damage to my health such an addiction could do in eighteen years.
I thought about all of that today after I read about mad King Donald and his days of rage and denial as this pandemic churns along unmitigated by any meaningful leadership from him. I decided to black out the news until ten o'clock tonight and just try to control the five percent of my world I can control until then. I just went for a long walk, and I feel better. That's not to say Trump won't try something crazy on all kinds of levels, but I'm not going to stop taking care of myself just at the prospect of that kind of thing. I made a bet with myself that I would buy myself an inexpensive present on January 20th, 2021, if Donald Trump is really gone by then. If, for some crazy reason, he's still President after his expiration date, I will buy myself a piece of cake at the grocery store. I've lost forty pounds since late December, 2018 and I've lost twenty-five pounds since this pandemic period began. What if it really is about taking care of myself in those kinds of ways, rather than worrying all the time about what Trump might do?
Speaking of taking care of myself, I'm not patronizing that business at the times that young woman might work there, for the most part. I saw her in there the other day. Before I saw her, I thought she'd quit. I don't want to give her or anyone else the impression that I'm trying to get with her in any way. I don't want anyone thinking I'm trying to win her over, or that I'm carrying a torch for her. I'm sending a woman I've never met one of my books in the mail, because I ordered her comic book from her, read it, and liked it. I only mention that because I count that kind of thing as more of an effort to connect with someone who is not this person I go on about than I have ever tried to connect with this person I go on about.
In the months that followed, talk flowed freely about the prospect of more terrorist attacks against the United States, including the prospect of a nuclear terrorist attack. I relapsed on the cigarette smoking after about two months of successfully quitting in my initial effort to stop smoking over the prospect of a nuclear terrorist attack. But, somewhere along the way, I said to myself, "What if it really is about quitting smoking and trying to take better care of myself over all? Suppose I continue to smoke two packs or more a day and never get blown up by a terrorist's bomb? I'd feel like a real asshole then." Well, it's been eighteen years since I last had a cigarette, and I personally have not been subjected to a terrorist attack of any kind. That's not to say terrorist attacks are not a real threat, but in my case, if I'd continued smoking like I was, I'd either be dead by now or wish I were dead from all the damage to my health such an addiction could do in eighteen years.
I thought about all of that today after I read about mad King Donald and his days of rage and denial as this pandemic churns along unmitigated by any meaningful leadership from him. I decided to black out the news until ten o'clock tonight and just try to control the five percent of my world I can control until then. I just went for a long walk, and I feel better. That's not to say Trump won't try something crazy on all kinds of levels, but I'm not going to stop taking care of myself just at the prospect of that kind of thing. I made a bet with myself that I would buy myself an inexpensive present on January 20th, 2021, if Donald Trump is really gone by then. If, for some crazy reason, he's still President after his expiration date, I will buy myself a piece of cake at the grocery store. I've lost forty pounds since late December, 2018 and I've lost twenty-five pounds since this pandemic period began. What if it really is about taking care of myself in those kinds of ways, rather than worrying all the time about what Trump might do?
Speaking of taking care of myself, I'm not patronizing that business at the times that young woman might work there, for the most part. I saw her in there the other day. Before I saw her, I thought she'd quit. I don't want to give her or anyone else the impression that I'm trying to get with her in any way. I don't want anyone thinking I'm trying to win her over, or that I'm carrying a torch for her. I'm sending a woman I've never met one of my books in the mail, because I ordered her comic book from her, read it, and liked it. I only mention that because I count that kind of thing as more of an effort to connect with someone who is not this person I go on about than I have ever tried to connect with this person I go on about.
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