Man, it’s a good thing I’ve spent a good chunk of my life working two or three jobs. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be quite so used to not getting enough sleep, and I would likely be looking a lot like the aftermath of the Hindenburg right now.

I may or may not be a little more irritable than usual, and a little more prone to introspection-bordering-on-depression the past few days. I’m also remembering dreams again (if not details, then the fact that I had them) every morning. They’re not particularly weird or vivid, aside from the fact that I’m used to not remembering them at all. The only real noticeable side effect — and it might not even be the Chantix causing this, but any number of other factors — is a lack of quality sleep. I can go to bed at whatever time, in whatever state of exhaustion, and I’m pretty guaranteed for the last three nights to sleep no longer than two hours at a stretch.

I’m on this for three more weeks, max, so I’m not too worried about it. And I’ve not been 36 hours without a cigarette (one in the past 60), so now on top of determination, I’ve got the “Why ruin my progress?” thought going for me.

…and then I saw this today:

… Progress Successfully Saved!

One day at a time, though.

“Simple lush beauty, melancholic words couched in a perfectly autumnal sunshine. There’s a passage of fire ahead…” – earlier today…

Primarily for my own interests, tracking the latest attempt to quit smoking, via Chantix. It won’t read very interesting, likely. In fact, I may short-hand most of it. Because why not?

Day one, today. Ground zero. One half dose, this morning. No noticeable side effects – perhaps a mild bit of fog/confusion, but it’s tough to separate that from the dehydration-related (? – boy I sure hope that’s right, and I’m not suffering from mini-strokes or scarring from a past embolism) fog I experience after drinking nights. No noticeable results, either, but from my reading yesterday, I’ve got a few days before the levels build up in my bloodstream.

Related: I Had a Stroke at 33

Today being the last day of September, I finally round out a month with 50+ miles of (targeted/dedicated) walking/running (stupid knees) behind me. Trying to decide whether or not I should up that number for the October (even as the timing of walking wil lbecome more challenging, with the weather potentially turning cooler and the amount of available daylight decreasing). Happy enough with 50 miles/month, I will say.

I’m going to begin working on some basic core exercises — nothing hardcore, as I have no interest in spending the time and effort necessary to look like I’m an athletic 20 year old anymore. Just some slightly better me type exercises. With perhaps a hint of narcissism.

I need to get my time more under control, and get back to working on creative things — that novel that’s been burrowing its way out of my head for a year plus, short films, music… Something. And I need to finish that latest King book, at least.

There. All caught up. Nothing else exciting to see here. Move along. I’ve got to go walk.