At the time of posting this entry on June 15th, 2013, my EcigWiki.info quit counter read:
Smoke free 27.62 days
$168.18 saved vaping
Passed up 552 analogs
I’ve made it this far into a quitting regimen before, but this is the most confident I've felt this deep into a regimen ever. In the past, I've tried cold turkey, tapering off, the lozenge, the gum, counseling, and all failed.
When thinking about my new life as a vaper, I think back to why I even started smoking in the first place. This is an answer I can't easily recall, but the closest I can come to takes me back to waiting for the bus to whisk me away to the wonderful world of middle school. At the bus stop, which was just down the block from my house, I would roll up my lunch money (a single dollar bill) and pretend to smoke. Of course, this would only really work well on those cold, Nebraska mornings. I loved watching the plumes of steam come from my mouth, and I can still remember what the dollar bill tasted like on the inhale. The taste of money is hard to describe: slight leather with hints of coolness that's a bit minty. At the time, I could not have imagined that this action would most likely be the reason behind me smoking for the next 20 years.
A couple years after the fake, bus stop smoking, I smoked something for real: a cherry cigarillo. I can't remember the brand of this little cigar that I got from a friend while we were walking home from our first days of high school. Of course, the darn thing made me want to cough, but I held those throat bursts in with teary-eyed might. I could not let the giver see me weak because I knew he would never let me bum again if he saw me cough.
Later that night after the cigarillo, I was enamored with the smell of cherry tobacco on my fingers and clothes. I did change after getting home, but I kept sniffing my Winger t-shirt to try and get that same sensation of rebellion. It just wasn't enough. I needed another.
Later, during high school, I discovered that I preferred Marlboro Reds and Pall Malls (back when they were non-filters) to cherry cigarillos. I tried to cover up the fact that I smoked, but my attempts weren’t fooling anybody. The first time my parents confronted me about smoking, they thought I had too much time on my hands, and my punishment was to read a book. I picked out a western story from the family bookshelf in the basement. The author of the book was a colleague of my father's. My dad said I would probably enjoy it. At the time, I really wasn't a reader, but I enjoyed this book because I discovered the wonderful world of reading at a coffee shop with a cup of nice, strong coffee and an ashtray. Shortly after this, I read just about anything I could get my hands on because the act of reading meant I got to go to the diner and fill my belly with coffee and the ashtray with Pall Mall and Malrboro Red butts.
At the end of high school, I learned how to roll my own cigarettes. That took smoking to a whole new level. I was in control of my cigarette. For years, I rolled and rolled and could even do it while driving or on top of a ladder while painting a house.
The first ten years of smoking, I had no serious intention of quitting, or that intention was like a book on the shelf that would stay near the top of my reading list but never got to read.
The second ten years, I averaged two or three quit attempts a year. Smoking became guilt, not a guilty pleasure. It was a chore, a necessity, a break from this or that, a way to kill a few miles, a way to meet people, a way to deal with people, an excuse to step outside for a moment of quiet, a friend when alone, a friend with friends. I didn't want to do it anymore, but I needed to do it to shut up my brain.
My story is a lot like other smokers or ex-smokers. The reasons, the big reasons to quit never really gave me reason. Not the fact that my wife quit just before we got married, nor the fact that my clothes will probably never really smell clean, nor the fact that I could have cancer in me somewhere, nor the fact that my heart and lungs absolutely hate me, nor the fact that I was easily spending thousands of dollars a year could get me to quit. But, what finally got to me were two little spots on my laptop screen.
At first, I thought the spots were dirt, but after many failed attempts to get the spots wiped off, I tried scrapping them off with my fingernails. These weren't spots of dirt or coffee or hardened soda; these were two little burn scars from a cigarette. Two little burn scars from tiny embers caught in the breeze during one of my usual mornings of coffee, cigarettes, and laptop on the front porch.
These two spots stare at me as I write this, a reminder of how the little things burrow in thought. Shortly after I discovered the spots, I met a guy at a reading put on by the Creative Writing department where I teach. He had an eGo twist from MyVaporStore with a Kanger T3 clearomizer filled with Thug Juice from Mt. Baker Vapor. I was enamored by the juice sloshing around the tank and the sleek look of the black eGo. I was even more intrigued by him saying that he went from a pack and a half a day to only vaping almost seamlessly. I was impressed with his confession of not having a real cigarette in almost two months at the time. As we headed back in from the intermission, he said it would be the best seventy dollars I would ever spend. This was a Thursday, and all that weekend, I stewed over to do it or not. I searched vendor websites to see all the gear. I was so confused. I checked and double checked the JoyeTech company website to see the list of authorized dealers. I checked and double checked prices and finally settled on a kit from MyVaporStore: 2 eGo standard 650 mAh batteries, a charger, 2 low resistance 510 atomizers, and 5 poly-filled cartridges.
This began my journey into vaping. It wasn't an easy transition, but I transitioned. Two months into this, I’ve expanded my collection to include a total of 6 eGo batteries, an eVic APV, a Vamo APV, 5 Kanger Protanks, 2 Smok pyrex glass DCTanks, a stainless steel, custom-made DCTank, and more bottles of juice than I know what to do with. All that energy put into smoking (where can I sneak one in; what gas station has my brand; where’s my damn lighter?) has been replaced with the hunt for vape gear. I'm not saying the cravings for a real cigarette, a realy ashy, tobacco-filled cigarette are gone, but they're as distant and non-evasive as my first intentions were to quit. Picking up that pack of cigarettes has become that unread book falling down the reading list.
Smoke free 27.62 days
$168.18 saved vaping
Passed up 552 analogs
I’ve made it this far into a quitting regimen before, but this is the most confident I've felt this deep into a regimen ever. In the past, I've tried cold turkey, tapering off, the lozenge, the gum, counseling, and all failed.
When thinking about my new life as a vaper, I think back to why I even started smoking in the first place. This is an answer I can't easily recall, but the closest I can come to takes me back to waiting for the bus to whisk me away to the wonderful world of middle school. At the bus stop, which was just down the block from my house, I would roll up my lunch money (a single dollar bill) and pretend to smoke. Of course, this would only really work well on those cold, Nebraska mornings. I loved watching the plumes of steam come from my mouth, and I can still remember what the dollar bill tasted like on the inhale. The taste of money is hard to describe: slight leather with hints of coolness that's a bit minty. At the time, I could not have imagined that this action would most likely be the reason behind me smoking for the next 20 years.
A couple years after the fake, bus stop smoking, I smoked something for real: a cherry cigarillo. I can't remember the brand of this little cigar that I got from a friend while we were walking home from our first days of high school. Of course, the darn thing made me want to cough, but I held those throat bursts in with teary-eyed might. I could not let the giver see me weak because I knew he would never let me bum again if he saw me cough.
Later that night after the cigarillo, I was enamored with the smell of cherry tobacco on my fingers and clothes. I did change after getting home, but I kept sniffing my Winger t-shirt to try and get that same sensation of rebellion. It just wasn't enough. I needed another.
Later, during high school, I discovered that I preferred Marlboro Reds and Pall Malls (back when they were non-filters) to cherry cigarillos. I tried to cover up the fact that I smoked, but my attempts weren’t fooling anybody. The first time my parents confronted me about smoking, they thought I had too much time on my hands, and my punishment was to read a book. I picked out a western story from the family bookshelf in the basement. The author of the book was a colleague of my father's. My dad said I would probably enjoy it. At the time, I really wasn't a reader, but I enjoyed this book because I discovered the wonderful world of reading at a coffee shop with a cup of nice, strong coffee and an ashtray. Shortly after this, I read just about anything I could get my hands on because the act of reading meant I got to go to the diner and fill my belly with coffee and the ashtray with Pall Mall and Malrboro Red butts.
At the end of high school, I learned how to roll my own cigarettes. That took smoking to a whole new level. I was in control of my cigarette. For years, I rolled and rolled and could even do it while driving or on top of a ladder while painting a house.
The first ten years of smoking, I had no serious intention of quitting, or that intention was like a book on the shelf that would stay near the top of my reading list but never got to read.
The second ten years, I averaged two or three quit attempts a year. Smoking became guilt, not a guilty pleasure. It was a chore, a necessity, a break from this or that, a way to kill a few miles, a way to meet people, a way to deal with people, an excuse to step outside for a moment of quiet, a friend when alone, a friend with friends. I didn't want to do it anymore, but I needed to do it to shut up my brain.
My story is a lot like other smokers or ex-smokers. The reasons, the big reasons to quit never really gave me reason. Not the fact that my wife quit just before we got married, nor the fact that my clothes will probably never really smell clean, nor the fact that I could have cancer in me somewhere, nor the fact that my heart and lungs absolutely hate me, nor the fact that I was easily spending thousands of dollars a year could get me to quit. But, what finally got to me were two little spots on my laptop screen.
At first, I thought the spots were dirt, but after many failed attempts to get the spots wiped off, I tried scrapping them off with my fingernails. These weren't spots of dirt or coffee or hardened soda; these were two little burn scars from a cigarette. Two little burn scars from tiny embers caught in the breeze during one of my usual mornings of coffee, cigarettes, and laptop on the front porch.
These two spots stare at me as I write this, a reminder of how the little things burrow in thought. Shortly after I discovered the spots, I met a guy at a reading put on by the Creative Writing department where I teach. He had an eGo twist from MyVaporStore with a Kanger T3 clearomizer filled with Thug Juice from Mt. Baker Vapor. I was enamored by the juice sloshing around the tank and the sleek look of the black eGo. I was even more intrigued by him saying that he went from a pack and a half a day to only vaping almost seamlessly. I was impressed with his confession of not having a real cigarette in almost two months at the time. As we headed back in from the intermission, he said it would be the best seventy dollars I would ever spend. This was a Thursday, and all that weekend, I stewed over to do it or not. I searched vendor websites to see all the gear. I was so confused. I checked and double checked the JoyeTech company website to see the list of authorized dealers. I checked and double checked prices and finally settled on a kit from MyVaporStore: 2 eGo standard 650 mAh batteries, a charger, 2 low resistance 510 atomizers, and 5 poly-filled cartridges.
This began my journey into vaping. It wasn't an easy transition, but I transitioned. Two months into this, I’ve expanded my collection to include a total of 6 eGo batteries, an eVic APV, a Vamo APV, 5 Kanger Protanks, 2 Smok pyrex glass DCTanks, a stainless steel, custom-made DCTank, and more bottles of juice than I know what to do with. All that energy put into smoking (where can I sneak one in; what gas station has my brand; where’s my damn lighter?) has been replaced with the hunt for vape gear. I'm not saying the cravings for a real cigarette, a realy ashy, tobacco-filled cigarette are gone, but they're as distant and non-evasive as my first intentions were to quit. Picking up that pack of cigarettes has become that unread book falling down the reading list.
