Saturday, May 9, 2009

Blog Binge

Finally getting down to brass tacks. Got to do this. Got to do this. Got to- I feel extremely clean. I am up in the booth, looking down on the toy people in their dollhouse. Trying not to look at the toy people - trying to ignore a whole little make-believe world. It's hard. Trying to write. Got to write. Got to write this before midnight, cause it starts today and I keep procrastinating. Oh, screw midnight. Whatever. My day's over when I go to bed. Mmmm. Bed. I could go for one of those right now...

No. Write. Blog Binge - a blog entry every day for a whole year. 365 entries (that's how many days are in a year, right?). I didn't do anything today, but it's opening night - Shaw's Arms and the Man - which gives my day the illusion of ...

The toy people are distracting. It's like a television right in front of my face. Except they're real, but they're not really any more real.

I shaved my legs today, which makes me very conscious of my skin as it shifts under my pant legs. I'm wearing pants because I'm in my blacks, I have to be covered in black for the show, but I'm really wearing a dress. I mean that my regular clothes-

I'm really no good at this. Ok, scratch that. Scratch out all that. Got some chocolate to get the creative juices flowing. What a weird, disgusting phrase. Ok, good. Chocolate. Good. Not good - chocolate making teeth hurt. I should see a dentist. I don't have money to see a dentist. I'll just let it melt in my mouth. Maybe I could hold it till it melted in the package and then squeeze it into my mouth. No, that's gross. Chocolate paste - only a fat kid would eat that.

This is bad. This is really bad. I've mastered the art of saying nothing very loudly.

Ok. Ok. Ok ok ok.

Found a little red journal in my desk I'd forgotten about (how could I forget about this journal? this is the one my friend that has issues stole for me as a birthday gift). Well, I opened the journal and it screamed at me. I mean that I read what I had written and it cried. I mean that everything I wrote in it was emo bullshit about how I'm so fat. And I'm not really fat. Really. I mean I'm the first one to condemn myself, but really, I'm just a little bit pudgy. Just a teensy bit.

But it's sick. It's just so sick how cause I'm not stick thin, I tear myself down, call myself fat. It's a big, sick carousel I keep hopping on and off of. But it's got worse, lately - my weight, that is, not the perception of my weight. Cause I've got into the habit of bingeing when I get home from work, because I work a lot, and stress a lot, and a lot of the stress isn't even about work. I come home and all I want to do is eat. I mean often I'm actually hungry, but it's not about that. I just want comfort. It's like there's a hole in me that I try to fill with food. But it just stretches the hole - and my pants. And I'm so fed up with it! (pun intended). I'm done with this pathetic slouch I've become! I slough off this comfort-seeking, flabby skin! I want things. I'm going after them. Even if they turn out not to be what I really want.

So instead of bingeing on foodstuffs, I will blog. I will blog to let go. And maybe I will have a nice cup of tea. I can have tea. There's no sin in tea. And exercising more than once a month wouldn't go amiss either.

It was actually Meg's idea ( this Project 365, because she wants to be a better writer, which is a very good, respectable reason, and I am turning her lovely idea to my not-quite-so-respectable uses. I needed my own motivation. 365 days in my life. 365 opportunities ... for something, I don't know. For everything. 365 pieces of my soul.

And now I have gone too far. Goodnight.


Meg said...

Day one! We made it! Only 364 days to go! :) Keep it up! :):):)