Thursday, March 01, 2007

It seems to me that my biggest mistake lately, and probably for the past several years, has been making the goals that I have into conditions of the happiness I supposedly aspire to. Get someone stable and satisfying in my "career". Write a book. Overcome Vaginismus. Lose ten more pounds. Get up to a respectable Standard level on DDR. These things are prerequisites to happiness. Why do I treat them like this?

Maybe the reason is this: standing from my soapbox and professing at the top of my lungs that happiness is a choice followed up with a commitment, proclaiming to all that it's your responsibility to make the most of your life, your responsibility to grab happiness and have the courage to hold on, maybe the reality of what I believe is this: there are happy people, and there are unhappy people. And one group will never really understand the other.

Sounds a bit closer to the heart of me. But I'm not going to settle on it.

Today, on my ten-minute break at work, I was thinking about how little energy I constantly have, save when I'm hopped up on diet pills, and I decided that, more likely than not, this is completely the fault of my absolutely shit diet. Lunches during most work days consist of some deep-fried chicked and a side of fries, and when I get home, I generally sit down to something microwavable. Conflicting schedules pretty much mean that Zack and I don't eat together, and when we do, it's late at night, meaning we want something quick. Meaning something hyper-processed, frozen and completley full of preservatives.

Even just a cursory look at the diet and nutrition section of our store leaves one confused as to what it is they really need; futher research, and you'll end up snorting oreos from the stress of it all. These days, we really are suffering from an information overload, with everyone's professional opinion just as credible and incredible as everyone else's; this is especially true of issues of the body. The more I know about these things, the more I realize: I know nothing.

In a situation where you can't tell up from down, left from right, progesterone from testosterone, it's best to go back to the basics. I made of list of what kind of foods I need to be focused on getting more of: Calcium, lean protein, Iron and Omega 3's. Then I followed up with a list of foods I need to work on getting significantly less of, which basically boils down to highly processed foods, and foods that are deep-fried.


This, I guess, leaves me starving, and desperately in need of a trip to the grocery store...well, and a whole new lifestyle really. If I'm going to commit to ditching the microwavebles, that requires learning how to cook, and keeping the kitchen clean enough to do so, which is really going to cut into my watching-and-rewatching-episodes-of-the-Gilmore-Girls-and-Scrubs time. I'll have to keep our George Forman Knock-off grill clean. I'll have to keep lean, uncooked meats in the refridgerator for easy access. Have to find some sort of healthy marinade I can live with.

This is all scary stuff. And not stuff that's particularly interesting to read about.

The stuff I want to be writing about lately is stuff I can't be writing about, stuff I think about writing, and then re-think-- things have been weird lately, in regards to privacy and consequences and all that stuff. You'll have to excuse me if what I post, for a while, tends to be a little less hard-hitting, or more of the fiction variety.

Blah. More when I can figure out just exactly what it is.

On with it.