Hate and fear often circulate my brain. These thoughts press out any positivity. How do, or can, I cope? During these times, I’ll think of how others handle similar situations. When I worked at a newspaper, impossible though it was to break into the journalists’s inner sanctum or profession, I saw insider secrets. Posted with pride along one printer wall was the most ludicrous hatemail. Gloriously crazed individuals complaining about nothing. Emblazoned: “WALL OF HATE.”
I noticed something curious after starting to consume the low caffeine, high high-fructose corn syrup concoction, taken about 30 minutes after a 30-minute nap concluding my workweek: I felt uncharacteristically starved. I scavenged my fridge for carbohydrates. Nothing seemed to satiate this hunger perhaps provoked by this red syrup or perhaps by my disregard toward my mind’s eye and body with consuming such garbage even for a casual experiment. Why the sudden fascination with energy drinks?
I’ve put on a few pounds since last week. Besides addressing some lingering stress, holding onto other stress, encountering more stress, drinking some high-fructose corn syrup drinks, and eating an entire bag of “healthy” snacks over a three-day period, or less, it’s just been a rough week. That said, putting on a few pounds isn’t like breaking sobriety. It does tell me, however, that I need to more careful. If untended, I could become unhealthier.
I’ve found good things about every job, gig, or whatever I’ve ever had. Whether my colleagues made the bosses tolerable, the location allowed some fun exploration, or the work was satisfying enough, when my mind flashes visions of the stairwell at this company or the workbench of that company, I always feel a melancholy nostalgia until I remember the rest of that job and how this one’s worst is better than some gig’s best days.
“Are you pregnant?!” “Not that I’m aware.” When I tell people about my peanut butter and cheese sandwiches, inspired by the Mr. Saturns, they’re usually a little boing’d out. When I tell them about how I prep them all at once, eat them because they’re an efficient balance of nutrients, and I like ’em, they usually admit that it’s smart. There’s a “mesmerism” with eating predictable foods at predictable times. I don’t feel hunger often.
It costs 37.36263736263729¢ per day to run Better Zombie. The roughly $400 I spent over the past 3 years have yielded more positive results than anything else I’ve ever spent on myself. It took me almost 30 years to realize that I enjoy writing more than playing videogames or any other recreational activity, and once I did, vistas have opened for me to navigate and control, yet not just in regards to the mental and physical processes of writing.
Since getting the new rower, I decided to go all out with an average set length of 30 minutes per day. Sometimes fifteen, sometimes zero, but 30’s my target almost daily. I can be honest enough with myself to differentiate laziness from fatigue, so on those “off” days, I probably give even more of myself than on the other days. I’ve also been watching videos while rowing, which… is that cheating? Should I row meditatively silent?
With increasing consistency, I’ve been getting worse and more diverse headaches than in recent memory. They are the sorts of headaches where, having awoken ready to live your best day, you’re struck down. It’s punishment, but with an unknown cause. On days like these, plans are irrelevant, writing is a chore, and anything more than being awake for a few hours is a pain. This headache is like an invisible spike impaled my right eye.
Although I was pushing a cart, was wearing a hat, and shaved off my beard, I walked past one of my top five favorite managers in a store without being recognized. I dropped forty-four pounds in the two years since we last talked. Weight management has always been a problem for me. I’ve burned off weight before but put it back on due to negligence. I’m confident that now I can retain this fitter identity.
The can of soup cost X. The gasoline cost Y. The materials required to make my lunch cost A, B, and C; sometimes more, sometimes less. The apartment-mansion costs Z daily. When we are granular with our spending, we realize how much potential for regret there is over how much money we’ve squandered on this or that. That’s too bad, right? It’s easy to say we should focus on our future. What about financial vicissitudes?