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Ever since I quit smoking, my lungs have been acting like they’re filing a complaint. I wheeze, I can’t take a full breath, and every inhale feels like it’s trying to negotiate its way through a haunted house of old cigarette damage. The doctors tell me it’s anxiety or even a leftover symptom of cravings—but of course my mind, being my mind, jumps straight to the worst-case scenario. (Thank you, Google, for nothing.) I notice it the most when I’m dealing with Whiskey the Kitty. Her room is upstairs, which means I’m climbing those steps like it’s the Himalayas just...

Before the internet, iPhones, and the cloud—back when floppy disks were king and computer screens glowed green like alien eyes—my father and I shared one of the few things that truly bonded us: computers. He worked for IBM. A titan in a white shirt and tie, the kind of guy who could walk into a room full of engineers and make them feel like undergrads again. He wasn’t just a programmer; he was the sort of mind that taught calculus to the pioneers of programming. Not many people know this about him, but he’d take business trips to help early...

Today wasn’t about cravings for cigarettes — today was about something trickier: the desire to smoke marijuana instead. I asked myself the big question… Does this count as a slip? For me, the answer is yes. I made a promise to family and friends that I would go clean from all of it. Tobacco, alcohol, drugs — the whole catalog of self-medication. I didn’t promise to quit “most things.” I promised to quit everything. That matters. If I broke that promise, even “just one puff,” the dishonesty itself would be the relapse. Not the substance. Not the high. The dishonesty....

Today was a “progress and patience” kind of day. I picked up the Christmas cards at Kinko’s—the ones starring Whiskey the Kitty. The kid is a natural model. Her little tuxedo face sits right on the front like she’s selling designer perfume or endorsing her own brand of catnip. They printed beautifully, and seeing that art in my hands felt like one more gift from quitting smoking: I can create, finish a project, and actually enjoy it. Later, we let Whiskey play in a designated room of the house under supervision. She kicked her little red ball around like a...

Today I took myself to Kinko’s to design and print Christmas cards. I haven’t done anything like this in a long time, at least not in a professional-feeling way. It reminded me of the years I spent studying graphic design at Cal State Fullerton, wondering if all that time with composition, typography, and layout would ever amount to something. Walking in with my photos and artwork of Whiskey the Kitty, I felt like the old Dan was waking up—the designer, the artist, the guy who used to believe he could take on the world with an Apple Pencil and a...