Already torched the writing resolution!


Yeah, so when you don’t write for a couple of days, there just ain’t no way you’re gonna hit 30,000 words in a month, unless you write blindingly long and boring essays.  I don’t go for that.  So, instead of trying to stretch this out by whining about my failure to write, I’ll focus on my successes.

It’s January 5, and I have been to yoga twice this week.  I also took the dog for a brisk night-time walk.  I’ve got to say that yoga is really great when you’ve got the right teacher.  It’s rewarding; it’s empowering; it’s uplifting.  And then… well, then there’s the Thursday night yoga instructor.  Now, okay, she plays great music.  I swear that amidst all the nifty Indian tempo tunes was a protest song about British colonial rule.  And she can do what she wants the class to do.  It’s just that when you’re in crow position (basically your rear is kissing the sky because you’re praying that your knees don’t fall off their precarious position on your biceps – not that I can even *do* that yet), it’s really hard to go immediately into a plank or upward-facing down-dog.  So, I take this lady with a grain of salt.  I try to do what I can, I surreptitiously watch those around me, hoping they have a freakin’ clue, and I try to push my body to tough out the hour of body pretzel twisting.  And it’s one thing to get the sides of the body mixed up (right, left – who cares?), but it’s entirely different to tell you to grab your ankle in eagle position – I just assumed she meant wrist and went with it.  So, yoga is fun and a challenge, but not exactly for the reasons I might have originally thought.  I do like the Monday night teacher, though.

I have lost absolutely no weight, either.  It’s entirely because I eat when I’m tired.  I’m okay until night time.  Then, for some reason, out come the evil self-defeating thoughts.  Fortunately, after the incident with the caramel flavored rice cakes (pure heavenly blissful evil), I now know that the tired me wants to eat carbs.  Tonight, I realized it was the tired me and I got a piece of sugar-free chewing gum instead.  So at least I am learning.

I was kind of frustrated, though.  I tasted these heavenly protein drinks (now that just sounds like a contradiction in terms, doesn’t it?) at my friend’s house.  One was hot chocolate and something like 15 grams of protein for very minimal carbs.  It was a warm orgasm in a cup.  I’m ready to do nearly anything to get my hands on more, including braving the health food stores.  But it turns out that health food stores have never heard of this stuff.  How do I know?  I went out of my way to go to one tonight and try to find this chocolatey goodness.  All to no avail.  They’ve got smoothies up the ying yang, but no hot chocolate wannabes.  *sigh*

Wait, this was supposed to be about successes!  Goodness gracious me.  Okay.  Think, think, think.  The problem is, when I get this tired, all I can do is rag on myself.  I should probably try to write in the morning, but I’m afraid I’ll run late to work or never finish writing anything.

I just thought of one – I have successfully taken a vitamin every day so far.  I keep them next to the table so that I see them.  If they were in a medicine cabinet, there would be absolutely no hope for me.  And don’t even think of suggesting a daily pill container.  Those things have “guilt trip” written all over them in nine-inch tall glowing neon letters.  I would forget one day, and BAM! Instant guilt trip.  There it would be, that sad little pill, staring at me accusingly, piteously asking me why I didn’t care enough to take it, and letting me know that it wasn’t as simple as doubling up the next day.  No, these are “One-A-Day” for a reason!  They must only be taken ONE A DAY.  So then it would sit there, occasionally casting dubious glances at me and mumbling snarky remarks ALL WEEK LONG.  And then I would even feel guilty the day I finally managed to take it, because it had to wait an entire extra week, and there was another pill in the bottle that didn’t have the chance to experience the joys of the pill caddy in its own rightful time.  All because of me.  Me and my big fat failure to follow any routine faithfully.  So, no, pill caddies are not my friends.

I have been pretty good about the water, too.  Some days are easier than others.  But, for the most part, I am very well hydrated.  I think I made my goal today, plus bonus liquids in the coffee, vitamin water, and clear diet soda categories.  I even found out that (perhaps while not particularly advisable) Route 44 Diet Limeades have approximately 20 calories.  And happy hour is right when I get off work.  And there’s a Sonic on my way home.  And I have $2.68 remaining on a Sonic gift card.

Meditation.  Yes, well, I have been counting the meditation I do when finally in bed.  That may be cheating, but it’s the same thought process.  Breathe in, take in all the poisons, transform them, breathe out well-being and pleasantness.  And then try the whole imagine you’re at the seashore thing.  Yeah, well, then I figured out that I need a different form of meditation.  You see, that other kind just opens up my mind and starts it going – and that leads to a whole lot of “Oh, damn, I forgot I still have to do all of that!”  Either that or I’m doing it wrong.  Maybe I just need to meditate before I actually climb into bed.  But, I can count it as a success because at least I have consciously been trying to do it.

Lower blood pressure.  I just read a little more about blood pressure, and I don’t know how I’m going to get mine down to a truly healthy level without medication.  You see, I remember my old blood pressures, which was a bit lower than my current blood pressure, and even that is what they now classify as prehypertension.  So basically, even if I manage to get it back down, it’s still not healthy.  Any how, I figure that I haven’t been doing all the good stuff for my body long enough to give up hope yet.  I mean, they always say that diet and exercise are the first things you should try.  Well, I say that you’ve got to give those things time to work.  I just really, really don’t want to be taking a daily medicine.  Then I know I’d have to face the pill caddies.

Hmm… 1150+, and I left out some of the good stuff.  Cool.


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