Prayer Hours at the Temple of Love (2/365)

January 2nd.  We’ve come back again just like that Backstreet Boys song.  That’s my era, my friends, perhaps I’ve evaded saying so for eight years of blogging, but that’s music I grew up with.  Along with The Smithereens and Liz Phair and Goo Goo Dolls (especially, now, their pre-Superstar Carwash albums) and a host of others I should write about some time.

Anything to not stand before you with my five hundred words about intention again.  I’m not bored with doing it.  Certainly not on day two of this segment of my life, this year arc of experimenting with what happens when you just don’t do the shit that always fucks you up.  You just don’t do it, touch it, come near it, allow it space in your life.  I’m not bored already with trying.  Just framing the language of YES, I AM TRYING TO BETTER MY LIFE in such a way that we both feel like I mean it and that I’m not overworking every single sentence to get us there.  Just to enjoy this as the opportunity it is – to rebuild my journal and do right by myself.

I ate low-carb today.  I got up and walked a smidge, took some recycling to the bin that needed to go, got low-carb groceries.  Pro Tip: order your groceries if your grocery store provides this service.  It means I can’t wander the aisles contemplating carb counts and squeaking by with eating something quasi-justified, or saying fuck it, and asserting I will start tomorrow, and filling the cart with pizza and candy bars.  Not that I have ever done anything like that.

The above means I left the house for something other than work.  Got outside.  Immediately felt rrefreshed and energized and everything as advertised.  This needs to be done.  Working my brain into a tizzy about doing it and never doing it is…a gross result.  It’s icky to swirl around in the same thoughts for too long.  It’s like using the same bathwater for a month.

I need to find a book.  If there were many of you, I’d poll you.  I just need to pull a book and get it read.  There’s surely a couple here I haven’t read, hell, I could even read The Ship of Theseus again and let my brain swell up with possibilities.

I will find one and put it in my bag tonight before my head hits the pillow.

I’ve been playing Mass Effect; Andromeda, not exclusively, but nearly.  I have my opinions – mostly I like it but there is a certain rush job quality that Bioware can be so much better than.  You see the edges here.  Sometimes you get stuck in them and hope for a recent save.  Not to be excessively metaphorical.  I am just working out months and months of not posting like this, friends.

Eventually…no…I and this will always be weird in this particular fashion.  It’s okay if you don’t like it.

No particular beginning that you can discern happening for a week.  This is just…the in-between.

Already Remembered


Like the cat says, I need to think.

Diet/weight loss.  All of these pieces feel like they carry the weight of a year’s worth of focus and devotion.  That they deserve that much of my attention – I should apply each one as a diadem on my forehead and march about, tattooed and slavishly attempting to make my resolution fall within its boundary.  They are all interconnected.  Each issue joins arms and leans on the others to make the walls of my Fortress of Lady Solitude, one so tall and so precariously built that no King Kong and no gallant have ever dared to scale them. But the concepts and ideas I’ve used to motivate myself towards weight loss have never worked and for the first time, I’m starting to allow myself to recognize the serious implications that will arise if I don’t change my ways.  It’s a real Scrooge getting the three spirits situation.  Or it’s not, but eventually, that’s what it will come to.  My body is just wildly unhappy right now,  even as my mind hushes and shushes it. Things aren’t fitting as well or at all from top to bottom on me, things like my feet feel weird from time to time, I find myself avoiding standing upright for long periods and find I really have rare reason to.  That’s all insane and unpleasing and a bad path to be marching so gaily down.  Plus, it aggravates my brain’s power to be reasonable which I need nowadays.  I need badly to fight my daily fight with my own stupid anxieties and illogical insistences (not a word, but might be.)  AND you can do OKCupid until you’re blue in the face (or green as my case may be) but if you feel shitty and shifty and untouchable, well, the rare soul who turns up with something that isn’t asinine to say to you, all he’ll find is those same glacial walls.

I don’t want to be pickaxed open.  I want to lower the drawbridge, send down the braid of hair, run out of the castle and start looking myself.

This means that things I don’t want to do with daily exercise are going to be of equal importance to doing this page.  Every single day.  10 minutes of real physical activity and 10 situps to cap it off.  Every day for a whole year.  More being better, more will be done, but the line has been burnt into the sand before you.  There will also be as much food tracking as can possibly done.  Imperfect tracking is better than zero tracking.   These are the tactics that will change my life and haven’t been done in the past for just this reason.  I will have a body that is different to this one.  One that will register differently with people and that has frightened me into submission before.  But that is what is new about 2016, I know what I will suffer to get hands laid on me, to get eyes in my head, to get another’s words breathed into my neck and it’s a hell I don’t mind.


Or Is It Istanbul?

I’ve still got my boots on and I think that says something positive about today.

While the majority of it was spent playing video games – so much so that I finished one and went out and bought Assassin’s Creed: Revelation and now in the background as I type this post you can hear the tide rolling in at Constantinople , I did actually put some clothes on, including some knee-high brown boots that I really love from Clockwork Couture (hey, I should look at that for Christmas presents for myself – or a treat someday in the future because I feel really odd and awkward talking about it as though I’m dropping hints for my sister when I really just love these boots and steampunk and steampunk boots.)

At any rate, these boots actually went for another walk today with the dog and took me along with them.  Physical activity that nobody put a gun to my head and made me do! +1!  Also, I didn’t buy any food today! No fast food, no Chipotle, no hamburgers, nothing.  I didn’t eat horribly either, except, of course, for the caramel corn for breakfast/lunch when it came to me that I had absolutely nothing else to eat.   Not a good choice, but hah, when do you come to me for good choices?  Well, maybe not in the past, but hopefully in the future.  So, yes, bad breakfast but at least I didn’t run out and pay $15 bucks for it.   Then, for a late lunch, defrosted chili that was very good.  And then chicken noodle soup for dinner which was also very good and homemade in our crock pot.  And I don’t feel at this very moment like I’m going to rip out anyone’s carotids over it, except of course, for the overhang that comes from playing a video game all day.

And Assassin’s Creed is an extra extra mindfuckery sort of game, to boot (ahem) so I’m floating a little bit outside of myself and just trying to come back down to earth with plenty of time for going through proper evening rituals and getting some sleep so that I can face the day and not come home blind with rage and thinking I need to immediately medicate and regulate everything with a hefty, brain-eating dinner.

Mainly, I want to gain back a little bit of diet/healthy control so that January 1 I can do a year 29 amazeballs self-transformation, change my job, my life, everything without the help of some jerk from tv sort of thing. Another window leading into some good timing.   And I always have that first 23 days before my birthday when I start to think that I need cake to live.  So right now, trying to get through the holidays, start some good habits and start shaving off some bad ones.  I got rid of pop a year ago, if I could get rid of eating out, at least most of the time, get rid of some of this messiness.  I don’t know.  I just know I like myself better when I’m oriented to a goal.   The sourness, the bleakness, the despair, ha ha, I want to leave it for someone else.

The Girl With the Adjective Noun

Structured relaxation.

I am off.  I need to figure out how to get myself back on.   So we’re tackling relaxation.  I am going to finish Mass Effect once I’m done here.  I am going to practice my guitar and then I’ll get dressed and put on the new guitar DVD and practice that.   Then I’ll get all my scattered things together.

2012 is coming, racing itself and I am sitting here remembering with an ulcerous awareness, everything I have to do.  It is terrifying.  I know what the usual plan is in the face of overwhelming workload: duck and cover.  When I need to do a little more than that now.  Now that I’m becoming this new person that faces some of the barrels aimed at her head, I have to get in the practice of handling reality as opposed to putting my head in the sand and waiting for everything to pass.  So I’m here, doing this in the morning hours with my cold feet thinking about how I need to clip my nails for the guitar, thinking I am blessed and lucky, thinking there’s strength in me to do this.

Here’s what I want.  I want the driving phobia cured.  I want to have lost the twenty pounds by May 20th.  I want to be reading maniacally all year, anything and everything I can get my hands on.  I want to be writing poetry every day.  I want to get the story of Falls Valley and all the messed-up souls within together so that I can say this is what this story is about and why don’t you read it and tell me what you think.  I want to get the house managed.  The finances managed and checked.  I want to not want to cry over the job.  I want to be personally more secure and braver in my person.  I want to do my makeup everyday and not lay about waiting for my door to be broken down.  I want to be excited about walking, exercise, and vegetables under the aegis of self-care.  I want to take my dreams seriously.  I want to get our front room finished and the floor laid down.  I want to practice my guitar everyday, knowing that’s the only way to get better.  I want to flirt outrageously with all the epic banter and caustic wit I have at my command.  I want to draw in and not repel backwards.  I want to own my own experiences and choices and stop disassociating from situations where I feel like I don’t have control.  I want to keep writing here, 500 words everyday, but I want to show and prove that I’m working towards other goals, too.  I want to be thoughtful about how I’m using my time.  I want to be alert and aware of the needs of others.  I want to begin to be the lovely person I always hoped and assumed I would be.  I want to find my way out of the desert a few years early.