Vox Populi: Day Thirty-One

I am somewhat sure that in the archives is a post called Vox Populi.  I checked and…apparently not.  Perhaps another blog, another time.  Which fits, I think with the game from which I’ve filched the title, my dear new (only to me) Bioshock Infinite.  I’ve done my best to take breaks today and clean counters and re-apply blankets to couches and empty the dishwasher, etc.  Also, I’ve been distracted by the snowtide which has seemed to come in and out on our shores and what had melted off and left black asphalt has now returned and coated nearly everything in white again. However, now I’ve been pulled pretty deeply into the magic of the game world so I have to be mindful of the time and my hunger and caring for myself.

I told myself, self, I said, dear self, if you’re going to pause the game, then you’d ought to take a moment and write a hundred words or so and then go back to playing so that the job will be done sooner rather than later and you’ll be back to devoting your full attention to this compelling universe.  Better that than raging at yourself for not being able to make a storm pattern move out of the sky.

I suppose of note is I think today is the 1500th post on this blog.  I have been blogging daily essentially since January 1, 2010, though there were thirteen or so posts that were written in 2008 and 2009 before I had the epiphany that demanded this task of me.  It has helped, or at least it has never hurt, though some nights I’ve been sick and some nights I’ve been miserable with pains not of the flesh.  It has been a constant and it’s important, in my estimation, to now and again put down in words the value of being somewhere, on paper, every day.  That I’m doing something – something that feels right to me even if it isn’t curing cancer or fighting terrorists or travelling to the moon.

My confidence is the thing it gives me.  

And so with confidence, I can report that this diet thing is happening at the moment.  I cannot speak to forevers, forevers are a mighty long time away from now, and I can say that I have done it imperfectly, with diet aids and salted meats, but I feel better.  In most ways.  When you sit in one spot stewing in your own anxieties, the spoilage is fairly unavoidable, but I’m more than ready to cut out the oxidized bits and continue tomorrow with these good thoughts in mind.  Got another whole day of weekend, got a Super Bowl party, got more to do and play and be and feel.  So yeah, it isn’t as sour as it felt an hour ago as I was sitting in the dark, gaming away.

Since I’m going to Italy and there may be the tiniest chance that I’ll have an excuse to tack on going to England for that trip, any and all of this is going to pay off.  It’s not just for some boy or for some future I keep shunning, it’s for a real situation where everything will be benefited by a strong body, an open heart, and lots of this confidence coming from all sides.

Boo meet yah?

Okay, that’s the worst.  I’m going now.  For REAL.

Euneirophrenia

The hardest part is to begin.  Or the easiest.  Who knows?  Not me.

One hour.  Sixty-two minutes, to be precise, to provide you with your daily dosage of my bullshit.   You are very kind to appear, given the quality of recent provisions, but I am afraid that I am rather tapped out.  I will have to scrounge about in the larder, in the root cellar and come up with some last mason jar of capacity to write out the day’s events and if you are very lucky, somewhere in and amongst the pickled beets, I might have one last ration of wit.  Curdled, most likely, but it’s all we’ve got.

I read today whilst standing in a local grocery store.  A bit more of A Plague of Doves.  And I had a very strong reaction even in those brief few moments to the power of the prose and the elegant gift Ms. Louise Erdrich has to paint the most specific and deliberate images and scenes with words that are not: blonde, tall, sad, happy, woman, man.  She finds the most exquisite and perfect lines and those lines just burst forth with ache and emotional savagery and the light of hope by which to view it all.  It’s just lovely.  I was just…like Joanna Newsom’s really excellent line, “We all fall down slackjawed to marvel at words.”

Now I’ll have to find that song for you all.  You either like Joanna Newsom and her reedy, ungreased voice or you don’t.  Luckily, for me I like it very much and her wordplay is a joy to me as well.

I am home now from trivia where we once again garnered third place without an exceeding amount of effort on the part of the three of us.  My little sister got into a fender-bender this morning, where someone rear-ended the car behind her, which made her rear-end my sister and she the car in front of her.   Entirely without fault and the insurance companies have leapt in to correct the matter and happily, she is relatively unharmed by the scrape and I’m glad that none of us have to deal with any physical damage to her person.  There’s hardly time enough as it is for all the big ideas we have, and even less for the big ideas she has, and no one can be arsed to lay down for weeks at a time, laid up in traction.

The breeze is so lovely now and the darkness feels like an old friend that has decided to give up her melancholy for one night.  And in its sway, you remember a hundred nights where this seemingly same breeze has licked over your body and driven you to strange and wonderful thoughts, to wordplay, to sweet dreams and a calm that may or may not be deserved.

I was so terribly worried, and we made it through today.  Imagine that!

I will grow and change.  But I will also always be here, not waiting for anything, just being, just listening to rustling leaves, watching the sheers shift, feeling my hair loosen in its roots.

Waltzing with the open sea.

Small Bites

Well, hidey-ho!  I think some of you or some of me was pretty sure that I’d not show up today.  Well, I don’t know.  I mean, I knew I’d be here but I wasn’t entirely sure if it would somehow be weird or mean less or not feel like it counts in the same way.  But everything counts.  The smallest cobbling together of willpower and accidentally not flaking out and getting lucky and just happening to have to deal with some bizarre situations can add up to mean that you’re suddenly where you want to be.

Suddenly, I’m where I want to be.  At least in the mental sense.  Physically, I’m in my old room at my parents’ house waiting out the heating guy who should call us tomorrow, I would think, after the holiday.  I don’t want to be at home, freezing, but I am looking forward to getting the furnace looked at and fixed and then working more on the house.  I was doing so well with my cleaning at night and being excited and revved up about it and then, situations – life, I suppose – have intervened and suddenly the whole place feels torn up again so that other “better” people can come over and clean it “properly.”   But that’s a stupid frustration that doesn’t mean anything other than me wanting control and ownership and the praise I would supposedly get for cleaning the house top to bottom and making it perfect, which is, admittedly, something I would never do.

So having gotten over my first emo convulsion of the new year, I realized that I had sort of made a commitment in the same way I committed to writing.  This commitment is about doing something with myself to lose weight and feel better.   If I was committed, that meant I had to take some kind of action today otherwise it’s just another resolution crashing and burning before it even gets out of the gate.  I need accountability and a method, just like I needed this site and the concept of 500 words.  So, I’m sparkpeopling it again.  I’m doing their 28-day bootcamp along with, I assume, hundreds of thousands of people out in the world who want to be back on track as the new year opens up.  This means exercising.  Not a lot, but a little bit every day.  At least ten minutes which is also like the five hundred words in that it seems like a lot until you get into it and then you realize you could just keep going and going and it’s as natural as swimming to a fish.

So I’ve done today’s exercise, I’ve eaten reasonably and am drinking water.  I need to finish the cup over there, actually.  I’ve taken before pictures.  I have all the tools, I have no limitations but my own brain and my own feelings.  It’s a matter, really, in the end, of letting it happen.

I can get so scared that being skinny is a loss of control.  Being healthy means facing the possibility that you might be unhealthy.  The anxiety and unhealthiness is in control.  Not me.

And today, I’m doing a little bit to take it back.

I’m here! And you are too!

And I think, just so I’m official, if we’re trying this again: I will participate in wordpress’ daily blog challenge thing, too.  Might as well if we’re already taking on the universe.