(no subject)
I read in a Cracked.com article a month or two ago that the only people who use LiveJournal (anymore, anyway) are huffy opinionated women who like to get involved in deep roleplay.
This could be true.
This September of 2010 was a breakdown month. A period of beautiful self destruction. It's slowly coming to a close, but the effects of this single month will linger on in my lungs, liver and wallet. Finally, after more than half a decade of talking about minimalist lifestyles, "living down" and hitting bottom... I went for it.
My possessions are now of a quantity so low that I could easily pack my life into the trunk of my car. I have what I need and only what I need to remain stable and happy. Should my foundation crumble to dust beneath my feet there is nothing anchoring me down to make me sink into the ashes. My fancy camera system is gone. My desktop computer is gone. My TV is gone. I have no bed of my own, no furniture I feel particularly invested in, no kitchenwares I couldn't leave behind, nada. I have prepared myself to pick up and move on the turn of a dime.
I have dropped over 85 pounds at this point. I'm still losing, should probably stop but the transformation is so mesmerizing I want to take it as far as I can go. My weight in high school never fell below 215 pounds. The last time I weighed myself I was a few tenths away from 200 even. It's a lot of weight to lose, and it was lost very quickly. Calorie counting has been my discipline. No sodas, avoiding heavy carbs, no more than 2000 calories a day. If I work out, of course I will eat a bit more, but the idea is to have a net calorie count of -500 by the end of the day. According to the linear BMI scale I should weight between 175-184 pounds to not be considered "overweight". In practice, such a weight would probably leave me looking like Christian Bale in The Machinist, but I want to see just how far I can take it for the sheer thrill of the challenge.
Two or three bowls of hookah a day. Occasional cigarettes at work. I was good over the weekend, didn't smoke a thing for 3 days. Yesterday concluded with 3 bowls, though. I've been smoking like this since the beginning of the month, part 1 of 2 in my substance abuse frenzy. And I used to be such an advocate for responsible hookah smoking. Amazing the things unidirectional stress can drive you to. My lungs are probably suitable material for repaving a road by now.
Part 2 of 2, I'm drunk far too frequently. It isn't drinking to forget or drinking to escape, however, it's simply drinking for fun and especially for clarity. Alcohol has a wonderful property of causing intense introspection and provides a wonderfully warped lens to approach the world through. I am happier while drunk than I am while sober because that lens makes the whole world so beautiful. I will kill a bottle of wine a night without thinking it out of the ordinary. For a while I was concerned that I might be exhibiting traits of alcoholism, but I don't think that would be an appropriate diagnosis. The level of drinking I've adopted is certainly unhealthy, but its aim has no malcontent back story. Suppose it's also my age, and I'm catching up for not having been a drinker at all save for this past year.
The month has been tumultuous. Work and home and life outside have all been cycling violently through various phases. They've settled, however, and as such I will back off my substance abuse routine and ease into this new, mobilized life I've committed myself to. And perhaps my weight loss will finally settle on a certain triple digit so I can buy clothes that will fit a month from now. This whole folding-the-pants-over thing is just not working out.
This could be true.
This September of 2010 was a breakdown month. A period of beautiful self destruction. It's slowly coming to a close, but the effects of this single month will linger on in my lungs, liver and wallet. Finally, after more than half a decade of talking about minimalist lifestyles, "living down" and hitting bottom... I went for it.
My possessions are now of a quantity so low that I could easily pack my life into the trunk of my car. I have what I need and only what I need to remain stable and happy. Should my foundation crumble to dust beneath my feet there is nothing anchoring me down to make me sink into the ashes. My fancy camera system is gone. My desktop computer is gone. My TV is gone. I have no bed of my own, no furniture I feel particularly invested in, no kitchenwares I couldn't leave behind, nada. I have prepared myself to pick up and move on the turn of a dime.
I have dropped over 85 pounds at this point. I'm still losing, should probably stop but the transformation is so mesmerizing I want to take it as far as I can go. My weight in high school never fell below 215 pounds. The last time I weighed myself I was a few tenths away from 200 even. It's a lot of weight to lose, and it was lost very quickly. Calorie counting has been my discipline. No sodas, avoiding heavy carbs, no more than 2000 calories a day. If I work out, of course I will eat a bit more, but the idea is to have a net calorie count of -500 by the end of the day. According to the linear BMI scale I should weight between 175-184 pounds to not be considered "overweight". In practice, such a weight would probably leave me looking like Christian Bale in The Machinist, but I want to see just how far I can take it for the sheer thrill of the challenge.
Two or three bowls of hookah a day. Occasional cigarettes at work. I was good over the weekend, didn't smoke a thing for 3 days. Yesterday concluded with 3 bowls, though. I've been smoking like this since the beginning of the month, part 1 of 2 in my substance abuse frenzy. And I used to be such an advocate for responsible hookah smoking. Amazing the things unidirectional stress can drive you to. My lungs are probably suitable material for repaving a road by now.
Part 2 of 2, I'm drunk far too frequently. It isn't drinking to forget or drinking to escape, however, it's simply drinking for fun and especially for clarity. Alcohol has a wonderful property of causing intense introspection and provides a wonderfully warped lens to approach the world through. I am happier while drunk than I am while sober because that lens makes the whole world so beautiful. I will kill a bottle of wine a night without thinking it out of the ordinary. For a while I was concerned that I might be exhibiting traits of alcoholism, but I don't think that would be an appropriate diagnosis. The level of drinking I've adopted is certainly unhealthy, but its aim has no malcontent back story. Suppose it's also my age, and I'm catching up for not having been a drinker at all save for this past year.
The month has been tumultuous. Work and home and life outside have all been cycling violently through various phases. They've settled, however, and as such I will back off my substance abuse routine and ease into this new, mobilized life I've committed myself to. And perhaps my weight loss will finally settle on a certain triple digit so I can buy clothes that will fit a month from now. This whole folding-the-pants-over thing is just not working out.