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 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.
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.
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.
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?
Throughout these over 900 essays, if there’s anything I’ve learned about myself, it’s that I have the most energy in the morning then it fades off from there. Morning’s dew is indifferent to evening’s stew of failures and shortcomings throughout the previous day. My dreams abstractly tell me what’s wrong and vaguely points out how I can fix these benign problems. My evening routine: prepare my coffee, lunch, hydrate, soak in the tub, then go sleep.
“We plan on keeping on going.” Positive affirmations like this can go a long way. There are times when life is hard and you might be ready to give up. Using your time and energy to give back to people and communities can bring you more than it seems. Shedding the parts of ourselves that we might feel insecure about and focusing on the positives of others or ourselves can make any obstacle worth overcoming.
I’ve made many friends throughout my life, and lost seemingly many more. Making friends is easy. The way I’ve found most effective is to approach someone with a compliment over something that they have added to themselves; a compliment on a shirt. Other times, making jokes will do, and other times, still, just by association. How about splintering friendships? Growing up, they were always aggressive psychological assaults. Until recently, they faded due to proxemically-inconvenient inevitabilities.
Even while watching a movie, it’s always there. The noise of self-doubt echoes louder than most lines in movies, the self-loathing permeates into every conversation, and what self-assurance is mucked by an overwhelming sense of artificiality. Neon colors can’t cover it. There are moments when I can get distracted from the past or future and focus on something nice, but otherwise, it’s a constant that I cannot escape from. Let’s explore that darkness at length.
Now that I’m tracking my calories, I can add objective data points to my subjective observations surrounding my comprehensive health. On days with limited stress, I am not that hungry. My hunger pangs are more of a reaction to stress than any malnourishment. Looking over my calorie charts, the spikes correlate to stressful days where I was “hungrier.” This should help me assess my anxiety levels quicker to properly lubricate and clean my mind’s gears.