I am being quite good. I think. One is never entirely sure if you’re just gleefully marching along, grasshoppering your existence as summer begins to blush and ripen like a Palisade peach, if just around the corner or just off to the left is a great and grievous edge that you are about to slide the fuck into. Whistling all the way, no doubt. I think believing this ever-vigilantly is a northern trait. A Stark-like observance of the changing of the weather, of the guard, of risk and loss nipping at your heels. Or maybe just a human paranoia that once you allow yourself to give into, it is hell to give up.
I am considering the Black Widow DVD. We walked a ways today. I want to do it. I need to do it. But I am sore and creaky from yesterday. So. I will do it, if only because I understand that my goals require work and not just psychic insistence that they will work. I believe in the witchcraft of the will, but I believe it works faster and better and with fewer questionable results if you add in some bodily effort.
So, fifteen minutes from now, I will be making nice with the Widow and letting her tell me she’s going to break me down or whatever the fuck it is she says. Such a one-eighty from Denise Austin who you could probably break off chunks of and use it like sweaty carob to sweeten your cookies. She basically chirps and squeaks and hauls herself oddly around in Caribbean settings and you watch her and wonder if this is all she hoped her life would be. Jillian Michaels is awkward, too, in her own YOU KNOW ME FROM TV SO I’M GOING TO GIVE YOU MY TV HARDASS WITH GOOD INTENTIONS PERSONA FULL-BORE kind of way. Really just a different stroke from a different folk.
So this means that there can’t be further dilly-dallying and staring at banjo players in lewd and lascivious manners via the internet, and there certainly can’t be any bullshit going on about here. Straight-forward and to the point, my lads and lasses.
Today: I need to eat something other than chicken. I am just slowly becoming some sort of processed meat paste nugget. Um, no. Not really, but I did well. I didn’t do anything that upset myself or made me feel overtly fail-y. Even with all the pre-event bullshit and drama and emotional upheaval that is nearly every day at my job. While I’m drained and over it and the usual situation, I don’t feel any intense feeling of needing to sort of eat it better as it were. There’s hardly enough time to get three meals in as it is! There’s that drop-off. Could be that tomorrow’s the day we give it all up and run headlong into a tinfoiled burrito fantasia.
Have to allow for the possibility.
But I’m alright. I burn in other ways now. For other things.
Goal: 155 by June 15