Everybody Wants to Rule the World: Day Thirty-Nine

Sunday is burning its last few inches of wick.

I am happy.

I have used pockets of time well today.

I’ve set some clothing out for tomorrow.  I’m going to plan my food for tomorrow.  I’ve set my alarm.  I’ve drunk some water.  I’ve worn my pedometer. I’ve spent 10 minutes on the bike.  I’ve cleaned up in the bathroom.   I’ve finished the last run on Bioshock Infinite and am working on the DLC.  The roads can do as they like because it’s been warm enough that some snow tonight won’t make them impassable.  Not for me and Suzy Suzuki, the pearly mountain goat I drive around in.  I was not sick on shakes or anything else.

Instead of dreading, I’m organizing.

At least for today.

Tonight – shower, have something else to eat that is small, perhaps some more popcorn – which I will come to in a second here, blow out the candles

Tomorrow morning – 10 minutes on the bike
Drink my shake before I go
Finish my makeup before I go instead of trying to tell myself I’ll have time to do it at work.
Bring a bag of trash down to the dumpster before I go to work
Leave at 7:45 rather than 8:00a.m. so as to have two moments to think.
Go to the grocery store and buy food for dinner that is healthy and that I’m willing to make after a long day.  (Not pizza.)
Stand up and walk around while thinking.  Try and get 5000 steps in.
Sign up for a massage on Sunday.
Remember dodgeball because God knows I’d like to forget about it.

…..

Tomorrow night I’m going to start on my vacation budget.  I have some money set aside since my friend and I have started talking about this, but I have got to start doing a lot more research since even though I get to stay somewhere for free, I both don’t want to be a burden and take advantage of the fact that I’m going to Italy.   My thought is to stay overnight in Florence.   At any rate, there’s just a lot more thinking to do on how to make all of this happen.  Though a key part of being excited about it is feeling comfortable in self so…I’m working on that, foodwise, exercise, lifestyle change-wise.  Whatever the road is, the destination is the feeling.  The destination is the pride I’d like to have and currently don’t.  So I’m doing more low-carb, but an imperfect version, for a few days, anyway.  Fuck, I really don’t even want to talk about it, because I feel guilty and then I feel annoyed and then I feel self-righteous and then I feel like the only way anything happens is from ground zero, day one and I destroy everything I’ve got to get back there.  That’s the cycle I need most to break.  So imperfection is accepted and assumed.   Still doesn’t mean I can’t exercise and try and build in some better habits and seduce the positive rather than eschew the negative.   And yes, you can embroider that on a throw pillow for me, please.

 

Speed Demon

Oh, lordy, lordy.  My grandmother used to say that, I think, and the tone she used to say it is ringing in my head at the moment.  When you’re just on the outside of a mess and you’re sort of marvelling at how quickly it’s risen up in front of your face.  Sort of like marvelling at a pimple, waiting for it to naturally explode or, you hope, dry up and die.  If you’ll allow such a grotesque analogy in a high-class blog like this.

I refuse to be drawn in.  Or drawn out.  Leeches be damned.  I just can’t be broken down like this.  Work, either stop it, or I’ll stop, capisce?  

Well, since my paranoia about discussing work issues has resumed, I am not going to delve into that here.  I know, I know, it would make for more compelling reading than hearing about my carefully portioning out of mini-pretzels, but I really don’t want to be caught with my knickers around my ankles running my mouth off if someone connects names and IPs and traces me in the malicious manner that internet hackers are known for and kills me in my bed.  No, I’m much more worried about walking in some day and facing a print-out of all my slander and a box or ten of all my shit and as I’m so often told around here, I have to watch my back.

So, despite the undeserved stress, I’m on the ball with food.  I think keeping myself fairly busy at night is helping too.  I have to do enough exercise to meet the calories burnt goal on the days I have cardio (I’m ignoring the weird feeling I have about using the word cardio with either conviction or authority) and I have to make dinner.  Clean for fifteen minutes.   Clean me up and get myself ready for the next day.  Be sure I make a post.  Do whatever internet socializing needs doing.  Try and write on this story for a contest I started last night (say what, actual writing, what?)  Track and figure out what’s going on with my food on SparkPeople.   Watch the few minutes of Miranda I can before my nervous system fails and I get the shakes either from laughter or aghast embarassment. 

Usually by then, I should go to sleep anyways,  and just have one more thrust of random activity.  Ahem.  What?  And then I make myself go to sleep.  This helps me a great deal in terms of what I used to do which was: stop at Chipotle, bring home food and eat and huddle on the couch with the Xbox, eventually wind up going to bed, wake up miserable.

It leaves me a lot less opportunity to make trouble or myself.  A lot less room for worry.  I leave a wedge in to make sure I fit some inarticulated joy in there, secreted away in my fevered brain.  That’s the promise I aim to keep while all this goes on.  I refuse to stop having a reason to smile even if I can’t always bring my muscles to move like that.