starving the caveman…

These posts are getting fewer and fewer. There is a reason for this.

I have mentioned that I have been a heavy smoker for years. I had to admit to myself that it was an addiction and a compulsion. 

I also mentioned that I decided to stop taking the pills a week or so ago, surely because they were making me feel nauseous. It was definitely a risk since I wasn’t sure if I could starve the caveman – that I could rely purely on willpower- and stop smoking

I have had a revelation. I have realised that although I still have am occasional smoke (usually when the “urge” gets too much), I am no longer fully dependent on cigarettes. 

What I mean is that there is no longer a smoking routine and I don’t feel the need to habitually smoke.

This in itself is a major thing for me. more so since I am doing it without any “medical support”. I think that the pills broke a lot of cycles and habits. I also think that my dependence on smoking has been very significantly reduced. 

I would like to think that anyone reading this post (and the previous ones) will be encouraged if they are trying to quit or cut down. 

As for me… I’m still hoping to totally quit but I am very pleased to be at “this stage”.

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Starving the caveman. Weekend report and Monday

Day 8

If you have read my beautiful aliens post you will see that I had a pretty good weekend. I’m still feeling smug after fixing the oven on Saturday.  

… It was the heating element that was broken. It would have been a 5 min job except that two of the screws holding the element in place were screwed in from the other side – I had to remove the back of the oven to get to them. It all worked out ok though and my beautiful wife is very happy. That makes me very happy.
And now to the caveman…
It’s Monday evening and I can cover today and the weekend by saying that quitting rollups is still not fun. 

The caveman has been constantly sobbing quietly with occasional outbursts of demands. 

Basically it means that I have a constant low key anxiety/need/withdrawal feeling in my tum. It’s barely there but it’s insistent and wearing. 

I’ll also have periods where all I want to do is to go out and smoke a nice big fat rollup.  That’s when my stomach muscles tighten as I try to stop that urge. The stupid thing is that I *know* that if I go out and smoke it’ll taste like shit, I will feel ill and not feel “satisfied”, and ill also feel like a twat for giving in. 

Sometimes I have to take one puff on my vape thing. That just takes the edge off. 
So, yeah. I’m not enjoying quitting yet. 

But I am having some bloody awesome dreams! Trouble is that I either cannot recall them, or I can recall but they cannot translate well  if I wanted to explain them. Oh well. It’s all good. 

And now I’m going to sleep. Not only is it bedtime but I want to sleep to get away from the caveman

The Manly Husbandly Duty of The Lord of Grumpness

This is actually something that I would like to mention on my last post, but I think Grumpy deserves a whole blog entry dedicated to acknowledge his awesomeness this weekend.

First of all, this weekend was supposed to be the kind of anniversary of the day we first met. Five years ago, we met on the city centre — taking the online advice on how to meet up with a total stranger very seriously — always meet up on a public space. We were planning on going to the place where we met for the first time, and had some coffee — or hot choco, like what we had at that time. Well, that was the plan before the game happened, so that definitely didn’t happen.

But, none of us were disappointed. Especially not me. And this is why my dear Grumpy deserves this whole entry just for him.

  1. The pink Hello Wolvie t-shirt.
    I think that’s quite self explanatory, except for the “Hello Wolvie” bit. Basically it is the cute mix between Hello Kitty, and Wolverine. Don’t snort, or I will claw you in the face… the Hello-Wolvie is incredibly cute, so if you are a kind of snobbish purist, please look away when I flaunt it, thank you very much.
  2. The Spark(y) in the Kitchen
    I learned not so long time ago, that in the UK, electrician is also called Sparky. This weekend, my husband took away their job by just awesomely FIX my oven. Yes, the brownie maker broke last week, and it would take Ā£100++ to fix it if we call in a Sparky to fix it. But we don’t need Sparky, because we have Grumpy.
    Now, THIS is the extra special bit. Grumpy doesn’t like fiddling with Sparky’s job, because he’s been working with the UK’s Health and Safety regulation for so long, that it is already embedded in his system. BUT, he knew how important that oven for me, and how I chose it myself from Curry’s, and how I love baking with it… And he deliberately woke up in the morning before I did, and fixed it, and tried it even before I woke up in the morning.
  3. The Brilliant White
    No, I am not talking about Grumpy’s race, or teeth. Actually, Brilliant White is the label in the paint tub. I am no sure why it is called Brilliant White, because it is just normal white… But of course, you have to make white paint sounds more interesting than what it is. This weekend, Grumpy was being the man of the week again, by painting our living room.

So yeah… That’s my man šŸ™‚

P.S. Do you know that in German, Mann is the word for “man”, and “husband”? So maybe if this entry’s title is translated to German, it would be really weird. Luckily it is not in German. Just saying…

Tomorrow

One of my favourite song when I was young — I mean, much younger than I am now, is “Tomorrow” from Annie. Of course at that time I didn’t know that it was from a musical. I didn’t even know what musical is. I came from that kind of world where music, and theatre, and poetry, and fine arts are not as appreciated as maths and science. It wasn’t an excuse, it’s just a reason why I didn’t have any knowledge about musicals — something that I regret a lot.

I knew what musical is when I grew up, but still hadn’t a clue what Annie is. It didn’t matter though… I still loved the song. I even had (still do) it in my mp3 playlist, just for those days when I want to sing my heart out… “Tomorrow… tomorrow… I love ya tomorrow…”

if you buy from this link, it’s going to give me something to be happy about tomorrow…

But who doesn’t?

Really, who doesn’t love tomorrow? It’s only a day away…

Of course we love tomorrow. Not only it gives us the hope of the better future — whereĀ the sun’ll come out, and clear away the cobwebs and the sorrow until there’s none, Tomorrow also gives us a reason not to do it today. Isn’t that great? We can always do it tomorrow.

What’s it? Well I think it depends on who you are asking, but it is usually something you can, but you don’t want to do today. Washing up the dishes, hoovering the carpet, changing the bedding, filling the tax report, calling your mum, doing the laundry, researching your dissertation, reaching out to an old friend, writing an entry for your blog… the list goes on and on.

I love tomorrow, we all do. Most of the time, of course… Sometimes tomorrow is the deadline so we have to do it today. Sometimes tomorrow never comes, and we never knew that the call would never happen, and the card would never reach the intended person because they’ve gone forever. But there’s always the next day… the tomorrow after tomorrow, and we love them too…

Ah… tomorrow…

Just out of curiosity, have you ever try to translate the song in Spanish? I did…

“MaƱana, maƱana… Te amo, MaƱana….

The Pursuit Of Betterness

I think a lot of people don’t want to admit that they want things to get Better. Saying that we want things to be better means admitting that what we’ve got today is not good enough. It’s good… but not enough.

Some people who think that making things better is just a means to feed our vanity — they might think of something trivial like: the fridge in your kitchen is not big enough, even the kitchen where the fridge is is not spacious enough. The waistline is not slim enough, the thigh gap is not far enough. The muscle is not tough enough, and you can’t run fast enough. The hair is not fluffy enough, the skin is not smooth enough.

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I need a new phone, by the way…

But I think making things better is more than getting better things. It is a sense of improvement. You might not need a bigger kitchen, but you could eat better food — tastier, more wholesome, something that actually makes you feel good about yourself better than frozen pizza. You might not need to slim down, but you live better life — getting rid of pot belly, reducing the risk of getting an early hip or knee cap replacement, or having the chance to breathe normally because your lungs are not squeezed by the visceral fats.

You don’t need to have get more money on your bank account (as good as it sounds), but you can still have a better financial security — paying off debts, everything’s insured, retirement plan’s sorted. You don’t need to be an athlete, but you can get fit– walk to the city or bike to work, or simply keep away the pints until the fun weekend with your buddies. I mean, there are plenty of ways to get better… but not many people likes it.

As one of the sanest people I have known in life, a lot of people don’t like you to get better, because it reminds them of how their life is — not good enough. It scares people because if you get better, you will raise the standard what is considered okay. It is like one student in your class that others hated so much because she (or he, but usually a she) would always over-achieve and tip the balance of mediocrity in your classroom — the one who would always hold up the recess time, and get you and your friends extra homework because your teacher used her as the class benchmark. The one that others secretly envy…

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I am short, so this is still within my healthy BMI

When I lost a lot of weight after changing my habit, a lot of people where I came from started to make comment about me over doing it. Of course some of them have a genuine concern because eating disorder is a legit thing to be concern about. But some just don’t like it because it means theis acceptable size would have to change too. Like a lot of ladies thinking that having a woman with healthy BMI as a bikini model is bad because it makes other women feels pressurised to be… in that healthy BMI.

What’s wrong with it?

What’s wrong with wanting to be better?

Ah… I think I need to apologise for not being able to understand. Maybe it’s just because I am an alien. Sometimes it takes longer to understand one thing than the other. Maybe I just need to go back observing food than human’s Lifestyle