Angelic Smoker

Angelic Smoker (cigar)

Angelic Smoker (cigarette)

Some Guys...

...are so impolite that they don't even take their cigarettes out when they kiss...

Well, I take full responsibility for my transgression. There is no excuse but the explanation for this lack of courtesy was fatigue. Thankfully I am married to the second-most patient man in the world!

Beam Me Up, Scotty!

Today I have been to Stockholm over the day, it was a horrible experience! These trips usually take me about two and a half hours one way, but today it took me a full six hours to get to Stockholm.

The airport taxi picked me up in time and we were at Malmö airport about 40 minutes before my plane was supposed to depart, at 09:45AM local time. I had a caffe latte and a croissant at the cafeteria and was waiting at the gate 25 minutes before the announced departure time. Five minutes later it was announced that the airplane that was supposed to take us to Stockholm had landed at Copenhagen airport in Denmark instead, due to heavy fog at Malmö.

We were then told we would be shuttled by bus to Copenhagen airport to catch the plane from there. The trip to Copenhagen airport takes about 20 minutes over the Öresund bridge and we would be there in good time for the plane to depart an hour later than the scheduled departure from Malmö. I would maybe miss the lunch, but would still be in time for my meeting. So I decided to travel with the bus to Denmark, which was a huge mistake as it turned out.

Once we got to Copenhagen airport we were told that the departure was delayed for an hour without any reason given. I once again made a wrong decision, when I did not abort my trip with that knowledge. After hanging about for an hour we were allowed to board the plane, if it had left at that time I would have been a bit more than fashionably late but would still catch most of the meeting.

Instead, at the precise time of departure, we learned that three passengers who had checked in with luggage had not boarded the airplane. This meant that the three's luggage had to be unloaded before we could leave, this procedure took another 30-40 minutes.

The flight to Stockholm was smooth and took less than an hour. I was booked to take the Arlanda Express train which takes 20 minutes from the airport to Stockholms City centre, but when I got to the train station I was informed that all trains to Stockholm had been cancelled for more than an hour in order to conduct necessary recovery and cleaning up due to the fact that a sad soul had decide to commit "suicide by train". The alternative way to get to Stockholm City from the airport was by coach, which takes 45 minutes to an hour.

All this hassle with just one cup of coffee, a croissant and only three cigarettes. (Smoking isn't allowed anywhere these days! *Deep sigh*)

The trip home was smooth and uneventful, thank heavens for that.
---

On the trip home I was thinking about how wonderful it would be if we could teleport in first life too. Just to say "Beam me up, Scotty!" and hey presto there I would be at my meeting in Stockholm. What a marvelous and efficient way to travel long distances in just a matter of seconds. Isn't it weird that more efforts aren't made to achieve this? We can land men on the moon and split atoms, how difficult could it really be for those geniuses to come up with a relatively safe way of scattering our atoms, moving them with the speed of light and then reassemble them at the destination point?

I am sure there will be some minor flaws at first, but they could try sending bananas back and forth during the experimental stages and then start with people. Of course there would be some mix ups from time to time, but then there always are some risks with new technology. Some guy could turn up at the destination point with a huge bosom, while the woman who lost the breasts came out with a flat chest. Those are reasonable sacrifices we must make for the good of us all. Eventually I am certain that it would almost never occur, not more than once in 10.000 teleports or something, would anyone get someone elses foot or dick or whatever.

In time they could perhaps even combine these travels with rejuvenation, where they filtered viruses away before reassembling or just gave you a desired makeover that shaved away 2-5 years or so.

Self-Pity

In a world full of wars, famine, abuse, violence, mutilations, rapes, persecutions and diseases etc., etc., I have spent my last few days wallowing in a turmoil of completely self obsessed and destructive self-pity. 

Sure part of it can be blamed on my medication, but I still cannot understand how I could lose my perspective and all self control to such an extent that I only felt angry, hurt and terribly frustrated over something this silly.

It is no one else's fault. I am not a victim and I have not been wronged in any way. The present situation is all of my own doing and choice, both when I acquired the habit of smoking and now when I decided to stop. 

Its time to put an end to this self-destructive mindset and keep moving on with my life and my choices.  I am sorry for trying your patience and thank the many that have shown me sympathy. Next time just slap me and tell me to get real!

Second Thoughts

So, on my last visit with my sweet old Hungarian doctor I was told I needed to stop smoking. Just as I have been told by other doctors, parents, friends, lovers and coworkers ever since I started smoking. The only difference was that this time I listened, which I am now regretting.

Anti-Smoking Sign, Zion, Illinois (circa 1915)

I am now well into the second week of my Champix-treatment and I passed my preset cutoff date on Thursday. As I was having second thoughts then I moved it to Saturday, i.e. today. I have had a miserable week and have started experiencing some of the side effects of the drug, but have soldiered on despite the clear signs of the onset of another depression.

Those signs are are no strangers to me and I recognize them with a small nod as they turn up, one after the other, like long lost acquaintances. The tiredness, the unsociableness, the complete boredom with everything and everyone (but mainly myself), the feelings of ugliness, unwantedness and self inflicted loneliness and isolation.

Today I did not smoke at all during the whole day, and with the medication that went smoothly - physiologically. I felt almost no withdrawal symptoms from my body and when I did, I sprayed some nicotine in the mouth and they passed within a minute. But emotionally and psychologically I have suffered all day, which is ridiculous really because I didn't really think those parts of me would be the problem.

Intellectually I have accepted the fact that I must quit smoking or else I am well on my way to getting COPD. I can stop that developing by quitting, so I must quit. There really isn't much more to it. I also accept the fact that continued smoking can cause my death or cause other health issues. I am finally well aware of the ever increasing social stigma against tobacco smoking.

Yet, I feel like a part of me is being ripped away, a part that has given me comfort, fun and relief for so many years. What will the new me be like? Will I like it? And is it really necessary for me to live past my 70th birthday, I will not have much of a pension then anyway will I? Why am I doing this to myself?

Anyway, even if I did go out and buy a pack of cigarettes at 10PM local time and have smoked three already, I am going to try again tomorrow.

...and if I don't feel better mentally on Monday I am going to call my doctor and ask his advice on whether to continue or stop the Champix-treatment. 

Acquiring a Habit

I know exactly when, where and why I started smoking and whom I was with at the time.

For a long time I was the only non-smoker in my immediate family. My parents, both my two sisters and their boyfriends (later husbands) were all smokers. When they lit up their cigarettes after dinners I used to run around frantically, open up windows and complain loudly about the smoke and the smell and how I couldn't breathe.

The summer when I was 26 years old, I decided to travel a month around Europe on Interrail. I was studying law at the university at the time and had suddenly discovered that I had an opening of four weeks after the term ended and my summer job started. As a young man with an overprotective father, I knew I could not tell my parents my decision too long in advance because that would give my father too much time to launch a campaign of trying to persuade me to travel in a "safer" way.

I broke the news to my parents the evening before I was going to leave. All hell temporarily broke lose and I was fed with images of myself laying murdered, slaughtered, violated, raped, maimed, brutalized etc. in every street, town square or hotel room in Europe by my poor father. When he calmed down, I promised to phone at least once a week and "if ever anything bad happened, however minor I may think it was". After making this deal with my devil father, I was graciously "allowed" to travel.

The morning after I left started with a short trip to Copenhagen to catch the "North Express" at one o'clock in the afternoon. The Nord Express is (or was) a daily railway connection  between Copenhagen and Paris and viceversa.

I was early, so I could choose where to sit and found a nice compartment with eight seats and settled in before the other passengers started arriving. The last one to arrive just before the train departed, was a tall and husky blond guy with trembling hands, amazing blue eyes and a dazzling smile. He sat down opposite me.

At first there was this usual awkward silence in the compartment but after awhile we all started talking a little and introducing ourselves and sharing our travel plans. The guy said his name was Andrew and that he was a Canadian from Newfoundland on vacation in Europe. He was on his way to Paris for a few days before he was joining an archeological excavation at some place outside the city.

Andy was a smoker, he smoked Marlboro's. I didn't mind a bit when he lit up a cigarette, strangely enough. When we had travelled together a while, he offered me to come with him for a cigarette in the corridor. I gladly went along with him and accepted the cigarette and puffed on it, carefully at first so as not to reveal that I was a beginner. We had a great time together and the smoke pauses repeated themselves during the trip until we settled in for the night. Andy stretched out his unshod feet towards my side and I did the same and in that way we went to sleep resting our heads on the others feet.

When we arrived in Paris we decided to get a room at a hotel together, until it was time for him to continue to his damn excavation. We had four wonderful days together in Paris. I had fallen in love and was sad to part. We stayed in touch the first six months after, but then with time and distance and other men the letters and cards swindled and finally ended. The only thing I was left with was my newly acquired habit of smoking.

To this day I still smoke Marlboro's and I think of Andy when I see a man with more than usual tremor in his hands.

The Next Step

The time was exactly 8:10 on a beautiful and sunny Tuesday morning when I suddenly found myself laying full length and facedown on the cobblestones outside the main railway station of Malmö.

I had been hastily making my way from the railway station to my sweet, old, Hungarian doctor's surgery nearby, for one of my regular visits. It is still unclear to me whether I tripped on a curb or slipped, but somehow I had barely prevented myself from smashing my teeth and nose on the ground. I could however taste the dust and grit from the street on my lips.

At first I was simply embarrassed and grumbled to myself in my native tongue "satans, helvetes, förbannade, djävla skit", then slowly I started checking sensations from my body to ascertain its condition. I felt a slight pain from my right hand and and wrist and from my right knee, otherwise everything seemed OK. As onlookers hurried to my assistance and asked how I was doing, I slowly rose to my feet again, dusted myself off, smiled shyly and told them that I had been lucky and everything was fine.

The visit with the doctor was good. I could honestly tell him that I was feeling excellent and that I had not had any mood swings since before the summer. He, in turn, informed me that my observations were corroborated by the results of the blood tests, which apparently showed vast improvements from the lifestyle changes I had made.

However, the beneficial news and my lousy results on a Spirometry test that had been conducted recently, moved him on towards urging me to "take the next step", which of course is the favorite subject of any one from the medical professions when they encounter a smoker, i.e. to quit smoking.

My doctor knows me well enough by now than to try to badger me, so the dear man spoke softly and convincingly with me for about twenty minutes and finally made me agree to "move forward". I have now made a commitment to quit smoking and also have the Champix-medication to help me in doing it, whenever I decide to start the cure. It will be my secret and I am not telling anyone, except a few chosen ones so that they can keep their eyes open to signs of recurring depression and other negative side effects.

Later the same day, after lunch, I began feeling stronger pains from my right wrist, especially if and when I tried any rotating movement, and I also noticed a pronounced swelling of my hand and around the wrist. These problem have continued during the rest of the week, but are now slowly getting better. As I am completely right handed, this at the time being means that I prefer chatting in voice and that my last remaining sexual thrills are totally - albeit temporarily - screwed. Hopefully this will soon pass so I can stop feeling sorry for myself and start the new project in making beneficial changes in my life.

Hanging With the Guys When Blanche Comes By

The very first thing I did when I got in-world this evening was to put on my regular skin again, which was a great relief. I had started looking at my shape settings when my buddy Butch called and wanted to come over for a visit.  We compared a few measurements and then he told me to drop the silliness because he thought I looked quite acceptable. (I will probably revisit the issue later though.)

A while later I saw my stepson Guyke come in world so I asked him to join us, which he said he would in just a second. He didn't turn up until a million seconds later, luckily form hijt as I was going to give him a good talking to.

Guyke

We had a great lazy evening hanging, just talking about nothing special and everything and being in each other's company, relaxing after a - for various reasons - rough week.

While we were sitting there I got a call from my Swedish friend and co-blogger Blanch Argus, who is on a long vacation in first life at the moment. She had dropped in for a few short visit with friends, so I invited her over.

I and Blanche

The four of us had a good time chatting for a while with Butch sharing how he really is a closet heterosexual and had done horrible ewwwwwy stuff with women. He claimed to have been reformed, but I for one am not talking his word for it but am going to keep a close eye on him in the future. Hopefully he should end up with nice gay man who will treat him right.

Guyke & Butch

The four of us and the always present Ars

Blanche had to leave for fer first life commitments a while later but the rest of us remained sitting long after the sun had set over Southern Charm. Butch seemed to be smoking a bit more than usual, but that was most likely his way of relaxing, and with him being Ditch I was not at all certain that all he had in those cigarettes was tobacco. I was to polite to ask about it...

I, feeling comfortable in my old skin

Guyke & Butch

Initiating Changes

We have been laying plans for the commencement of the changes to come in my first life.

The steps we agreed upon to improve my overall physical condition are
- improving dietary intake and eating habits (regular meals, no junk food and no snacks),
- improving my fitness through exercise,
- improving my sleeping habits,
- reducing my cigarette consumption or quitting smoking,
- reducing my weight and
- reducing my absenteeism.

The exact goals to be achieved during the three month period from June through August of 2013 are to be agreed upon by me, a personal trainer and a dietician. The hope is that this kick-start will get me on the right track for keeping it up on my own afterwards.

It will all start already on Tuesday with a complete health examination and an expanded health and lifestyle survey, including a fitness test. If I should wish so along the way I can also receive some counseling or other psychological or motivational support.

In the spirit of "Mens sana in corpore sano" it is also hoped that the physical changes will improve my psychological and emotional condition.

Sounds like quite a plan, huh?

A Sacrifice For Love

(via J.M.G)

Only a smoker can understand how much this means...

Spring Is Here

According to the Swedish meteorological definition spring arrives when the daily average temperature is rising and between 0 and 10 degrees Celsius (i.e. 32 - 50 degrees Fahrenheit) for seven consecutive days.

Well today was the eight day so officially spring has now arrived to the southernmost parts of Sweden, even if it is difficult to believe when you feel the cold winds sweeping around you every time you step outside for a cigarette. It´s not at all cozy and you hate the day you started smoking.

I am beginning to believe there is a conspiracy between nature, the Swedish legislators and my employer and they are all trying to send me a message of some kind...

At times like this it is good to have a second home to log in to. I keep Southern Charm on a sort of eternally mild summer, not too hot and not too cold and always with a slight breeze. Simply wonderful!