I would love to sit here and write that I wanted to quit smoking so I simply put down the cigarettes and waltzed into fresh, clean air and a brand new existence with highly operable lungs. But things in life are not that easy. In fact I hear nothing worth having is easy. The Brooklyn Bridge is not for sale, either.

So instead I sit and write that my ears are on fire and my lungs are hating me and I had four cigarettes already today by 9:30 a.m. This is a tough one. Although I have gotten wagon loads full of advice on the quit smoking process, the sheer enormity of it all had me a tad confused. As you may have read, the Zyban I was taking as my quick cure definitely backfired and sent me checking into the loony bin. So I turned to acupuncture, a treatment I happen to be using for other ailments that has been working wonders (not to mention the wonderful doctor I’ve discovered and his pleasant office complete with herbal flower tea and meditative nature sounds piping through the world).

It also explains why my ears are burning. No, it’s not from the meditative sounds. It’s from where he stuck the needles in my ears. I just came from my third treatment for the smoking cessation which includes needles in your face, forehead, hands and three points in your ears. The ear points connect to overall relaxation, your stomach and your lungs. Since I have continued to smoke (albeit much less than I was) since I began this treatment, the ear-bound lung points become ultra sensitive and throb with anger and resentment every time I pick up a smoke. My doctor calls it "payback."

I tried getting mad back at the cigarettes, I did. I even tried making list after list of the pros and cons of smoking, with the cons outweighing the pros like an elephant would outweigh a feather duster. All logic tells me to put down the cigarette. Hell, the only one NOT telling me to put down the cigarettes is my mother who (get this) told me to go easy, not to be a hero, cutting down is good enough and don’t put too much stress on myself.

Actually, that is not true. Doctor’s orders also indicated I should smoke after driving myself totally insane for 49 1/2 hours I was able to last with the cold turkey method. I laughed (once), I cried (all day). I ran down the block as fast as my weakened lungs could carry me (twice) and I yelled, screamed, ranted -- threw a temper tantrum. I didn’t wonder why the doctor, after I informed him of my cold turkey hardships, said that I was making it five million times worse.

It’s all in the mind -- a place that is oftentimes dangerous and always very powerful. Mind power reminds me of a success story about quitting smoking as told by Stan, a wonderfully wizened gentleman who always dapples poetry readings with his poignant and truthful anecdotes.

Stan’s quit smoking tale involves lining up the cigarettes from his last pack, like soldiers, on his bedroom dresser where every night he would perform a kind of "ritual." His tradition involved getting furious while snarling the "f- word" at the cigarettes, reminding himself (and the lifeless yet life-sucking sticks of nicotine and tar) that he was stronger, better and smarter than them. Helas! he could beat them, squash this habit, and kick their butts (excuse the pun) once and for all!

The ceremony worked wonders for him, culminating in a finale in which he ripped the cigarettes in half and hurled them down the toilet. He has since not had a cigarette in several centuries and would recommend the method to anyone ready to quit.

That’s the thing -- I don’t know if I am ready. Although my threshold for pain has gotten a lot less, part of my Jekyll & Hyde mind is still bidding me to smoke, to keep up the filthy habit for some unknown reason hidden under a rock and to torture myself some more. Let’s hope it turns itself around -- I know my mind can’t take it anymore, my lungs can’t take it anymore and my purse strings are certainly wearing thin over this habit. And never mind what it’s doing to my poor, burning ears!