Visine! I didn't think of that! LeN, that's depressingly genius.

Perhaps oddly, the theoretically more ergonomic layout of my desk at work causes me more pain and discomfort than curling up on my lounge at home with a laptop in my, you know, lap.

your eyes still look puffy if you have been crying a bit, but at least the whites of your eyes are clear.

there is something to do about the puffiness, but I am not interested in being THAT prepared for crying jags.

Smoking is a total asshole. My dad is pretty upset - when he broke up with smoking almost a decade and a half ago, he took the high road: didn't talk smack about smoking, didn't bitch it out to mutual friends, just politely said, "We used to be a thing, smoking and me, but we grew apart." Held no grudges, played no games.

And now, all these years later, it turns out smoking had booby-trapped his lungs with very long-range detonators way back when. Smoking always knew it would end someday, and smoking didn't give a crap. Smoking was playing the long game, that fucker.

Also, I declare Crying In One's Car to be a bad trend, and I give the stinkeye to any employer who pushes any Buffista to that extremity.

For me, it isn't because of my employer. I have a couple of asshole coworkers, but they aren't the ones making me cry.

Man, smoking is a jerk.

Smoking is a total asshole fuckhead. I'm trying to reconcile myself to knowing that I may always want a cigarette, and that I can want it without trying to suppress the desire (guaranteed to fail anyway) or giving in. I am more addicted now than I ever was. I don't really have any confidence that this time quitting will succeed permanently, but I figure quitting when I can and limiting when I can't will help minimize my nastiness chances.

And maybe I'll suprise myself and quit permanently.

I was a health ed teacher. My grandfather died of lung cancer decades after he quit. I know all the diseases, all the risks, both health and aesthetic. But when I really want one, especially if I've had some alcohol? Doesn't fucking matter.

Then I redirect the stinkeye to the persons or life circumstances responsible, and vibe for less stress and grinding and difficulty in general.

Oh, yeah, it's not my job that makes me cry. It's just about everything else. I'd be crying wherever I was. It's just that at work I need to re-enter civilisation shortly afterwards.

Ugh, I'm sorry to hear about all the crying in cars that's been happening. I wish I could magic all the pain and frustration away.

Now that the rubble of the past semester is starting to clear, I have realized that I just barely pulled through things. Really. I f*ed up a bunch of deadlines and responsibilities and let my house descend into chaos. What gives? I haven't been feeling depressed but I sure as hell must have been out of it these past few months. Weird.

My mom quit cold turkey like 30 years ago. I still remember it, because that was the closest she ever got to a Betty Draper period. I don't think she has cravings anymore, but she does say when she finds out she's dying, she may just say "fuck it," and light up. I think it's a nostalgia thing now. Like elephant bells, but deadly.

My mother "tapered" using cigars.

Many years later, the closest I've ever come to being a smoker was cigars. I really like them. As long as I'm smoking them, that is. Other people smoking them, and after I've smoked one--pretty fucking nasty. I can see how it would be a step towards quitting.