They'll kill you. Or they'll make you stink. Or they'll make you stink and kill you.

No, not the Hookers at the point, well, maybe them too. Smoking. Public enemy number one aside from the fatty disease.

I was 15 when I started smoking. Casually enough. I was a lifeguard at Wet N Wild. The breaks were boring sequestered in a back area of the park with all the refuse so one had to find their own way to "break." One day I took the offer for a smoke from a co-worker and the rest, as they say, is history. I got the brain rush and dizziness. For some reason to me, that was awesome.

Fast forward 15 years and here I sit. No brain rush and no dizziness, what a drag. Pun intended.

It's been two and a half years since my son was born. Mr. Colyn Ian. I vowed to quit smoking when he was born if not for me, for my family. My only tangible treasures in this life. As with most ventures to purge this peril from my person I found yet another way, not to quit. I was pushed outside. Two years before my son had arrived my wife and I as newlyweds moved into our brand new custom built home. I was smoking outside at this point. Cold, wind, Texas tornadoes be damned. But this was now and I had my son to worry about now. Sure smoking in the house wasn't an issue but surely he'd smell me and develop an allergy or some other aversion? It didn't happen and again, I continued to smoke. A brand new baby may indeed make for a noble reason to quit but practically speaking, it was epically bad timing. Not to mention quite ill conceived.

A month or so back and I began to feel the time to quit encroaching again. Like the proverbial 500lb. gorilla in the room I was scared to bring it up to anyone. Bringing it up only publicizes your failure. So I did what very few men do. I went to a doctor. I wasn't bleeding from the eyes or in any insurmountable pain. I wanted to quit. I had tried cold-turkey. I had tried the gum. The patch. Hell, I tried chewing the patch. The doctor would go on to assure me I wasn't an abomination of will power gone wrong. He went on to appeal to my engineers mind and began quoting statistics. I sat and heard how almost nothing worked for more than half the smokers who tried it. An abysmal statistic to be sure.

Then he brought up Chantix. I'll admit, I went there with only one intention, that was to get a prescription for this drug. Numerous family testimonials didn't hurt either. I just wanted a doctor's insight on the stories I had heard about people going animal farm on their family and killing themselves. I mean, I feel well-adjusted but surely everyone does until they find themselves atop the book depository taking pop shots at beatnics with an M24. Right? lol So he said as long as I wasn't taking anti-depressants I should be fine but to be weary of vivid dreams and some dehydration. Vivid dreams? Interesting doc, tell me more? He went on say that not all vivid dreams are bad but that if they do become disturbing I need to let him know.

Okay, let's pause here for a moment. Because what could be disturbing to him might be quite acceptable to others. Are we talking sucking dick for crack disturbing? Because I had a dream several months ago that was just beyond disturbing. I watched as my son fell out of the back of a truck riding redneck style only to run to him screaming my head off while a car came rounding the corner. I won't relive those final moments but I didn't wake-up until later. So more disturbing than that? If so I might opt for the health effects of cancer.

Anyway, I've never been one to shy away from the things people say will make you crazy or might be harmful to my mental stability so I took the prescription. It took me two or three weeks to get the prescription filled because I am a World Class procrastinator. I finally do and start taking it a week or so before my 30th birthday, this past Monday, December 1st.

The first week is low dose stuff. I notice the change right away. Cigarettes have a metallic taste, yuck. It doesn't matter how much I smoke, I'm getting cranky. I'm dehydrated but so far, no spooky or troubling dreams.

The second week they bring on the big dosage. Not much changes other than I am now unable to take more than four to five drags from a cigarette. My smoking habbit is down to maybe five per day. I've had a few vivid dreams but I've had these before so no big deal really. Some were actually quite pleasant.

Now here I sit, I haven't had a smoke since roughly 22:00 CT last night and I am fine. I want something to eat but that has more to do with me dedicating time to this writing than anything. I left some stuff out because everyone knows I'm a redhead. The anger is understood.