On Smoking.

Lately, I've been fixated on vintage cigarette ads. I like to pretend that it's still 1936, and imagine living in a world where, to make Christmas shopping easier, cartons of Camels still came pre-wrapped in December. I like the idea of a world where a carton of Camels is an acceptable Christmas present. I like thinking that menthol flavored cigarettes are an acceptable alternative to cough medicine when you're sick. I think living in a society that *openly* admits cigarettes are used to curb appetites would be charming. According to the ads, smoking is relaxing, refreshing, and 'soothes irritated throats;' it makes people fall in love with you; smoking is patriotic; smoking is bad-ass. And I want my world to be like that. And I think I could have--quite effortlessly, mind you--convinced myself that I was living a bubble wherein the truths of 1936 were still true, were it not for the following television commercial:

(Please disregard the speech bubbles that were added by the person who posted this on YouTube)

To understand this commercial's devastating effect on my fantasy, let me describe my first cigarette of the morning.

My first cigarette is consumed in one of two ways. Option A occurs at approximately 5:45 am, and involves me hurriedly trying to find either one or both components of my work uniform. Bleary-eyed, sleep deprived and tussled, I usually light up right before I brush my teeth. Drags of said cigarette are taken in intervals, usually right after I spit. I finish my cigarette while cursing the pre-dawn weather and either walking, frenzied, to the car, or walking, even more frenzied (and usually late), over the bridge to work.

Option B is the first cigarette of the day on the days I don't work. Nine times out of time, this involves me waking up between 10 and noon, riffling through the pile of shit next to my bed (which, by the way, is actually a mound of blankets and pillows on the floor), and lighting up while praying that the neighbors' internet hasn't been passworded yet. I smoke while checking Facebook, finish, and fall back asleep.

Either way, I'm usually semi-comatose for the first cigarette of the day.

It is never five minutes to eight when I consume the first cigarette of the day.

There is never coffee and breakfast made and ready when I consume the first cigarette of the day.

The kitchen is never clean when I consume the first cigarette of the day.

I don't even have a kitchen in which to consume the first cigarette of the day.

I am never cheerful and smiling when I consume the first cigarette of the day.

These discrepancies have forced me to acknowledge that I am not the people in these ads. I am not one of those people who feels peppy after smoking. I am not a doctor, prescribing Chesterfields, nor will any doctor I ever see prescribe me Chesterfields. Thus, I'm forced to recognize that all of the other beautiful 'truths' that the campaigns are pushing do not apply to me either.

I think I was born in the wrong decade. I just want life to be simple.

When did it get so complicated?