The Dismal Visionary

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Who can say?  Not I.  Not I.

2017 is nigh.

Food.
I am inspired to do low-carb starting January 1.   It’s coming out of my own desire to do it and not, I believe, out of this sense of needing to have a resolution.  Not out of habit.  It’s, instead, coming out of my own personal sense of needing to start the year working on myself because I want to see improvement.  I want my life to be better, goddamnit, fabulous, even.  Not choosing food to serve as an external release valve on all of my emotions.  Of wanting to be able to get myself moved out of this limbo.  I know that there’s a big event coming on the 9th where food will be funky.  I know my birthday is coming again.  Yet, I want to do this.  I want to have a year-end change.  It’s time to start pulling out the motivational picture albums, the MyFitnessPal, the FitBit or some form of pedometer and get to be excited about progress again.

So, I can’t do it all at once.  But water, cutting carbs, tracking food and posting daily on MFP about it.  That’s a path towards something.  You will see me doing that, failing, upset, excited, not doing what you think I should, working really hard, being all over the map.  But this is my intention.

I also pledge not to eat out more than once a week.  That’s mostly about money, but I also eat so maniacally, it’s a way to help myself, too.

Writing
Just to reiterate, changes are going to happen here because…they have to.  I can’t do another year of just posting moaning screeds.  It’s a waste of my talents.  I need to read.  I so need to be reading so that the well has something other than marsh water to draw on.  I can’t do better unless I do differently, so the post will happen in essence via MFP or me writing.  I will be here weekly to spaz and cross-post, but it won’t be like it is now.

That scares the everloving shit out of me.  I might accidentally just post. I don’t know.

Computer Time
The reading and the writing and the not just spending whole days restarting Civ IV games.  I have to be conscious of how much time I cede to this thing.  Even just waiting for people to respond to messages.  It’s endless at times.  I mean, I love it, it’s comforting, but it chains my ass to the bed for ages.  I can’t be chained like this forever.  Nothing is forever.

Love
Every day we start over.  The hand hangs out of the carriage and is grabbing in all directions.  But I am sure that I like myself better for just that little bit of trying I am doing.  So, I say how do you do, and I try and make jokes, and I try and express interest and comb my hair and buy (with gift certificates) new dresses and be cute and willing.  And we’ll see.

 

 

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