Nightmares in Paradise...

I need to start remembering to take the patch off at night. First of all, the vivid dreams totally mess up my sleep. Saturday I didn't wake up until 2 pm. Secondly, the dreams are just too freaky. A few weeks ago I had one where I absent-mindedly took off a $900 set of shoes and purse in a store that sold nothing but, you guessed it, shoes and purses. I walked away from the shoes because I was making sure a friend was okay after she'd had too much to drink. (There was a bar attached to the warehouse.) I was running all over the store screaming where are my shoes? Where are my little orange leather slides? I woke up in a cold sweat. You can imagine the trauma. I have a dream with a combo bar/shoe store...and it turns out to be a nightmare!

Dammit, I'm cold.

So as I mentioned earlier, after three months of nothing I finally got a $600 electricity bill. I was convinced something must be wrong and went onto the website for my utilities company to see if they had anything about what to do if you thought your meter wasn’t working properly. Well, I didn’t find that, but I did find a section where you could fill in information about your house and get a month-by-month electricity estimate. Not only was my bill accurate, but it was predicted to go up during the winter months. I called my mom for sympathy. She basically told me to stop being a chump and just go buy an oil-filled radiator. Mom and Dad were insistent that I get the one with the timer. They didn’t understand what the big deal was when I mentioned that the radiator with the timer might not be an option since it cost $30 more. I asked if I might get one for the holidays and they again told me that it didn’t cost that much and to go get one at the store. I filed the advice away until last night when it was 50 degrees during the day.

I came home last night and put a heavy denim duvet cover on the comforter. Then I added a blankie on the bed, plus an afghan. Then I put on sweatpants, long sleeve t-shirt, socks, and a wool sweater and hopped into bed. When I woke up this morning my apartment was 50 degrees. It wasn’t so bad in the bed, but getting out proved to be an effort. I knew how cold it was. All I had to do was touch my face.

So tonight I went and bought an oil-filled radiator. Home Depot was out of the one with the timer, so I just got the $35 one. Brought it home, plugged it in and waited. And waited. And waited. The damn thing never warmed the room. So I went online to check the brand and you guessed it, there was a web review talking about how much my radiator sucked, but the best part was where it mentioned how much it upped the electricity bill. Are you kidding me? So tomorrow I’ll pack up my radiator and take it back to the store. In the meantime I have ordered a new one from Amazon which is scheduled to be delivered sometime before xmas. It’s the one with the timer, but there is a catch. It’s a ‘refurbished’ model which has been met with mixed reviews. I’ll let you know…At any rate, I've got a new incentive to stay longer at the library.

I'm late, smoke-free, and apparently not dumb.

So I have this problem with lateness. In college I was once an hour late for a Calculus final. The lateness problem only occurs in the mornings because I can’t get out of bed. I’ve always been amazed by people who can make it to work at the same time every day and shocked when they are upset that I can’t. The lateness is so bad that I mention it in job interviews to let employers know up front that I can’t guarantee that I’ll be there on time every day. Like this morning for example. I went to bed at a decent time last night and got plenty of sleep. Unfortunately, during the night a cold front came through. This morning my apartment was 60 degrees. My body went into hibernation mode. I didn’t hear the alarm go off…(It rarely wakes me up anyway.) When I did finally arouse, it was just too cold to get out of bed. Turning the heat on wasn’t an option either. At the age of thirty I can’t afford to heat my house!

All this goes to the fact that I was thirty minutes late for my torts class this morning. I’m always worried that I get to this class late about 50% to 75% of the time. I don’t think the prof takes attendance, but then again, I’m not sure. We have assigned seating so he knows who I am. He’s never said anything to me, but I doubt he would even if he were slowly chipping my grade away. I should ask him about it, but I’m afraid to at this point. If he’s marking me off, then he’s marking me off. Knowing about it would stress me out, however, it wouldn’t change anything. It’s not as if I would be able to get up any earlier each day.

You may wonder if I worry about missing the actual lecture itself. I don’t. Over the years, I’ve realized that I can’t learn audibly. If you tell me to do something, good luck getting it done. If you write it in a note, it will be done promptly. I sit here in class each day wondering what the heck is going on half of the time. The guy next to me often asks a question related to the lecture and I just stare quizzically. If he writes it down and it’s related to something from the book, no problem.

Over the semester I have mastered the art of looking aware in class. It’s funny. I think I may make eye contact with my profs more than any other person in the class. However, I rarely process anything they actually say. Like right now, I’m staring at my torts prof and I have no idea what the heck he is talking about. People wonder why I don’t take any notes in class. What could I possibly write down? How can the written word be so clear and understandable and the spoken one seem like a completely different language? It’s oddly fascinating to me, albeit a little frightening for law school. And people wonder why I don't like TV or going to the movies...

So I’m on day twelve of this no smoking thing and it’s going pretty well. To be perfectly honest, I’m a little disappointed that it’s been this easy. Most of the cravings have dissipated. The routine ones were the first to go away. I rarely hop in the car and get a craving. I seem to have forgotten that I used to go outside between classes for a cigarette. The two that linger are the cravings associated with drinking (which are not so bad) and the craving to have one when I’m having a bad day (which are still strong). I never realized that I used cigarettes as a means for dealing with disappointment. The first week was miserable because of this and I broke down and cried several times. I ended the week feeling awful and wondering if quitting smoking meant that I was doomed to become a depressed person.

I went on the website for the study and guess what…depression is common when you first quit smoking. For some reason, this made me feel better. Knowing that my reaction was normal had the strange effect of causing the depression to go away. Add to that the fact that I realized this weekend that it was partially due to PMS. Well, no wonder I sobbed like a baby last week. I quit smoking, took my first law school exam and had fluctuating hormones. After I realized this, I was almost proud of myself that I didn’t cry more!

I didn’t gain any weight last week. In response to this and realizing that my water gain due to my state meant that I had actually lost weight, I ate about 20 chocolate chip cookies last night. Hopefully I’ll get back on track today!

Oh, and I had a nice little experience yesterday. After my legal writing exam I was pretty disappointed. I knew all of the info, but for some reason when I walked into the test I spaced out. One of the downsides of knowing your stuff is that when you come across a multiple choice exam, you are often able to answer the question before you see the choices. You would think that this is a bonus. Well, not when you get to the choices and none of them are phrased in quite the same way as your answer. I completely flipped out during the test as this happened several times. Walked out of the exam completely bummed because I didn’t do as well as I could. The exam was 30% of my grade.

The remaining 70% is made up of a research memo that is due this Friday. I’ve been a little freaked out over the importance of this essay since I feel like it completely needs to make up for the exam. Yesterday I had a meeting with my Writing Class prof to go over my memo draft. At the end of the meeting she said to me, “I don’t know why you feel disorganized and worried about this. Your writing is clear, you’ve found the right cases, spotted the issues and your analysis is dead on.” Thank goodness! So I’m feeling a little better…and looking forward to the essay portion of my exams!

And the beat goes on...

So I went with Mike to band practice last night. As we walked in a warehouse that is apparently a storage center for a nursery during the day Mike said, “If anyone asks, tell them that you’re here to sing.”

Uh, I thought this was going to be an informal thing, not a real audition. I hadn’t even practiced a song. For some reason I was expecting an ensemble, four or five guys playing laid back jazz. Oh no. This was literally a 40’s ‘Big Band’ with like 20 pieces. Um, I’ve never sang with that large of a band. To the right of the set-up was a make shift refreshment bar that consisted of coke, sprite, ginger ale, and whiskey. The floor was littered with cigarette butts.

I sat at a delivery desk and studied for my legal writing exam while I chatted with the singers. The regular gal held the songbook and hadn’t yet arrived so I couldn’t try anything. I wondered if I should just hang out for the first practice and get a feel for the sound.

Overall, it was pretty cool. Just because I’d never played with an orchestra of horns didn’t mean that I wouldn’t like to try. Eventually the woman showed up and I chose to sing Fever on the suggestion of another singer.

Ha-ha-ha-ha. It was a slaughter. The songbook is basically just the words to the songs. My training in voice was pretty formal. In fact, I’d been taught to not sing by ear. So I’m sitting there not only without the sheet music for the lyrics, but more importantly without the sheet music for the piano which is like a bible for a singer like me. The band leader started up the song and I waited for his cue.

“You missed your intro,” he said.

What the heck? Their was no cue! I’ve never heard this arrangement. How do I know where to come in? Ay-yay-yay! We tried again. This time someone gave me a cue, but in the mix of twenty instruments I was just like, “Oh man, what’s my starting note? How do I do this?”

The gal came over and helped me out a little in the beginning, but anytime there was a break, I wasn’t sure where to come back in. “Oh, I need the music! I need the music!”

I also inadvertently picked up the mike that hadn’t been used yet that evening. It screeched and squawked while the guys tried to adjust it and I held the thing like a foot from my mouth.

“Holy cow, did they just do a key change?”

Someone told me to hold the mike closer and sing out. Sing out? Are you kidding me? I don’t even know if my singing is in the right spot. I could have been singing the verse while the band was playing the chorus for all I could tell.

So like I said, slaughter. I was sure that Mike would be totally embarrassed for dragging me along, but he actually felt sorry for my suckiness. After practice was over he gave me a cd of the band’s past performance and said, “Go listen to the arrangements and try it again next week.”

Sweet.

Quitters never win...

So I decided to give quitting a try last Friday night. Since then I’ve been experiencing the ups and downs that go along with changing your lifestyle. You may think that anyone who tries to quit smoking four weeks out of their first law school final is completely nuts. I thought so at first, but after weighing the different factors, I decided that this was the best time. First of all, while for some people quitting might be the factor that sends them over the edge, I am the weird child who has more sanity in crisis mode than in everyday life. If I am worrying about my legal writing exam, my reading, my ten page research memo, my outlines, and studying for finals, I am likely to put something like the stress of quitting smoking on the back burner because frankly, I just don’t have time to deal with it. This was one viewpoint in stopping.

Secondly, many of my classmates were sick with a bronchial type flu a few weeks ago as was I. However, since I am a ten year smoker, what took the other kids just a few days to get over took me several weeks. This is the second time this year that I have gotten a flu like this and I didn’t feel like in law school I could handle bronchial illnesses that put me out of the loop for weeks at a time. Thirdly, although I made serious attempts to lay out a reasonable budget before school started, I realized that my budget wasn’t working so well. Quitting smoking could potentially double my disposable income. Lastly, a friend of mine approached me about the remote possibility of doing some vocal work in the future. Singing is one of my longest loves, but if I wanted to take it seriously and return to a regular training routine, there was no way that I could smoke. It’s just kind of stupid to smoke while trying to sing. It ruins your lung capacity even if it does give a nice raspy sound.

So here I am on day five. With my first craving on Saturday I debated breaking into my free nicotine patches provided by the study. They’d given them to me even though they thought my level of nicotine addiction was low. I decided to give them a whirl and let me tell you, although I didn’t think so there is definitely some level of addiction. I popped that puppy on and was like, “Oh, hey. This is nice!” Unfortunately, it was only the first patch that gave me a ‘hit’ feeling. Apparently, the whole point of the patches is to provide you with a regular stream of nicotine so that you get used to not having intermittent hits. (This kind of takes the fun out of it, no?) You can where the patch 24 hours although the box warned of funky dreams. The first night I decided to wear it. After a particularly hideous dream involving my mother, I decided to rip the little sucker off before going to sleep each night. Plus, I could cheat and wait to put it on each day until I got a craving. Then I could get my ‘hit’. Bad idea. Bad idea because yesterday, I got really upset and instead of wanting my patch hit, I wanted the real deal. Since I hadn’t worn the patch in over twelve hours I didn’t figure there would be any risk in taking a puff. I smoked half of one. Today I put the patch on first thing in the morning so as to reduce the risk of taking a toke later. I’m not going to smoke when I’m already pumping nicotine into my body and could potentially create more damage by having a cigarette.

Overall the cravings have not been so bad after you get past the “firsts”. For example, the first time I got in my car without them. The first time I finished a meal. The last one you have before you go to sleep at night. The huge craving you get while drinking. The one you want when you’re bored and need a break. The one you want when your stressed.

The other wonderful thing about quitting smoking is the impending weight gain. Supposedly you burn around two hundred less calories a day once you stop. I’m trying really hard not to let this get to me. Thankfully, I haven’t been that hungry and I’ve been trying to really watch what I eat. My biggest issue with quitting is that smoking seems to be the only thing I’ve ever found in my entire life that enables my stomach to function normally. As of yesterday, my tummy was the size of a small bowling ball. Since quitting I’ve been eating nothing but non-processed foods, green leafy vegetables, and spicy foods like onions, but it isn’t helping that much. Today I’m in my tight jeans and feel like I’m about to bust out of them. Every time I’ve quit, the stomach issues are always the thing that causes me to go back. Yesterday evening, my stomach finally kicked in and I’m feeling a little better, but I still came to school today equipped with fiber-filled foods and not a single starch.

There has been an upside in this endeavor however. First of all, my ability to breathe gets better and better everyday. I can calculate a money savings of $12 so far…no small amount of change when you don’t have an income. Unfortunately, my disposable income will not double. I got the electric bill on my house for the first time two days ago and it’s going to be about four times what my bill was in Austin. At this point, there’s no other area on the budget that can be reduced so it appears that I’ll be taking out a private loan at some point in the future. Such is life. You just deal with it and move on I guess. No other options at this point, short of finding a job and dropping out of school and I’m not quite ready to do that yet.

I’m sleeping better, but I’m also tired due to the fact that my body is adjusting to this whole overall. Hopefully after a few weeks things will calm down. We’ll see how it goes. I would really like to stay off them if I can. I always told myself that my grandmother’s lung cancer was a much nicer option than my grandfather’s long and drawn out Alzheimer’s. It was partially because of the fear of alzheimer’s that I continued to smoke. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize that the smoking would start to tear away at my health so early in life and now I need a plan C. Anyone know of a fun unhealthy thing I can do that will take me out around 70, but won’t slow me down until then?

Up in smoke...

The local cancer hospital in town is doing a study on smokers in conjunction with the university. Every where I look, there is a flyer asking me to stop smoking and in exchange for my participation in the study offering me money, counseling and free nicotine patches. My plan upon entering school was to quit by the time I graduated (three-year plan) so I broke down and decided to sign up for the study.

My first session tested the limits of my humility. For instance, they needed to take a saliva sample in order to establish that I was in fact a smoker. This involved spitting into a cup. Not such a big deal, but you try coming up with a tablespoon of spit when you’re under the gun and have another person looking on.

The second test involved measuring my lung capacity as well as the force with which I could exhale. To do this I had to clamp my nose, wrap my mouth around a PVC pipe and blow as hard as I could (about 16 billion times).

If you can picture this, you can see how someone who lives life with their mind always in the gutter would find this situation slightly humorous and embarrassing at the same time.
Upon my first try, I realized that the counselor was literally cheering me on.

“That’s it! BLOW! BLOW! BLOW! You can do it! Good Girl! Keep blowing! Keep going girl. You can do it! Good job! That was a nice a blow!”

Normally you do this test three times, but it took me ten because, well, I had a tendency to start laughing. Each time I screwed up the counselor would worry about whether or not I had the strength to go again. Like I was some delicate little flower or something.

“That was good, but do you think you can do it again?”

I wanted to tell her that it would be a lot easier to do this if she stopped playing cheerleader and eliminated my fear that she was going to put her hand on my head.

As it turns out, I have the lungs of a 58 year old. Apparently my lung capacity is normal (thanks to all the years of voice training), but I can’t blow worth a damn. I was tempted to tell the counselor that I could provide references arguing otherwise. I can’t stand to be below above average at anything in life.

Beyond my tests, I took a number of surveys and answered questions of the counselor. She was amazed to realize that after ten years of smoking I was without an addiction to nicotine based on the way I answered my questions. (The major sign of this is craving that first cigarette each morning which I don’t have.) I could have told her as much if she just asked. My smoking fetish is a weird habit to be sure, but ultimately the main reason I smoke is because I am a smoker. Even as a small child I considered myself a smoker. It is part of my identity, my personality, my life. I know that it will eventually kill me or leave me with a nasty case of emphysema. At the same time, quitting would also seemingly kill a piece of me as well. Such is life.

I walked out with a three months supply of nicotine patches and ten dollars for my time. All that and I didn’t even get dinner.