Why I gave up my vices

OK, so no casual sex and I quit smoking. And in light of the last 7 days or so (and if you've been reading my blog, you know it's been a mess), I decided to bring some levity back to JGC. And that means, I'm fessing up about the real reasons I decided to drape on that wholesomeness cloak.

• Smoking was fucking with my head. I was constantly telling myself it was the last cigarette and I was getting more and more angry with myself for not being able to quit.

• I was a phlegm factory and constantly dealing with head colds and shit and that just doesn't make sense. I felt like I kept putting my hand on the stove, getting burned ... and doing it again. Lunacy.

• Casual sex wasn't getting me anywhere - and all it was giving me was a complex. Getting tested every six months is stressful, plain and simple.

• Then there was that time I accidentally blew a drag queen.

• The best sex I've had in the last two years was with a brutha who was so damn high he has no idea who I am. No, like ... seriously - he hits me up a couple weeks ago on adam and introduces himself like we've never met.
  

• Actually, wait - that wasn't the best sex. The best sex was with this other brutha I don't speak to anymore either ... who met someone after we hooked up and decided to pursue something with him. But who isn't out and doesn't want anyone to know where he lives.

• Did I mention I inadvertantly blew a drag queen?

• Today I hit up another brutha I had been messing with because I haven't heard from him. I knew he had gotten laid off and I wanted to see how he was doing. He moved to DC for a job. After I congratulated him, he told me he was coming back to town and I was going to help him pack and move. "No, I'm not."

All in all - casual sex and smoking were fucking with my head. And look folks - I'm a crazy mfer. I hold it together pretty well, but I really am one neurotic son of a bitch. The last thing I needed was to continue to do things that were fucking up my very frail psyche.

Reality is that I conducted an inventory of ME ... and I found the shelves empty and the racks half full. Seriously, who's going to invest in me if I'M not ... right?

It's been 7 weeks since I've had a cigarette. 9 weeks since I've fucked around.

And you know what? I've actually been able to better focus on my job search ... I've got 8 resumes out there, all to very pertinent jobs, all with customized resumes and cover letters ...

... because I need to just get back home and stop all this driving nonsense. JACK's not found much in Chicago worth staying for ... just a bunch nonsense ...

... and a drag queen with a big dick.