Oh, Jane Eyre.
Thus far, you would be quite proud of me, oh crowd of anonymous well-wishers to whom I write this daily missive. Not so anonymous, really, since I know at least one person in this very house who reads my screeds which one might imagine would keep me from making such a terrible fool of myself in script day in and day out, but I am nothing if not consistently unafraid of my detractors so long as they remain on the other side of the screen.
I’m writing in a fussy, Austenesque style so as to increase my word count without having to increase my thought output. Clever, no?
I did get up this morning. I did exercise. For exactly 12:30 minutes. Then, I worried I was late and cut myself short. But, for someone who has elected to exercise after work when it’s all jumbled up with my relaxing time and my eating/cooking time and my writing this shite/computer time, it’s pretty amazing that I actually was able to force myself to do it. When I’m on it, it’s fine but it also gets me all out of whack so that I’m not tired when it’s time for bed and I wake up exhausted. Not so today, where I’m feeling kind of luxuriant that the goal of exercising every day is achieved and I don’t have to fight with myself tonight about it. So tack one on for the home team. Then. I ate food from home. Didn’t buy anything today, imagine that. There was hardly time to eat, but I had chicken and peppers at my desk in my little tupperware. I also got this big 1 liter bottle for my water and am now working on my second one with peach green tea crystal light in it. So party on, dudes.
Bad day followed by a goodish one. I have had protein bars. I have had probably too much salt. But I don’t feel so shaky or that I’m dreaming the impossible dream or that all my problems could be solved in a really good piece of pizza or that I deserve to be seriously castigated and put to task for my miserable performance on this whole diet/life change thing. You can spend so long waiting for a beat-down that will somehow make you do all this out of fear, a kick in the head that will physically alter the way you respond when you’re stressed or bored or just not with it 100% of the time. And I don’t think there’s a donkey out there who can knock all the crazy out of us with one good kick. Behaviors and habits fight back. Sometimes they win. Sometimes.
The pathless journey has enough faith in me to let me wobble and fail and skip beats, knowing that it’ll be there, right beneath my feet whenever I decide to make it so.
Today, I made it so. Which, was pretty fucking nice, Mr. Sulu. It was pretty fucking nice.
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