you might recall that an entry or two ago I mentioned that I ran, or at least put one froot in from of the other out on the trail for two days in a row... ummm, I really did mean foot... the following entry was the entry I wrote at work just before coming home and finding my way out on to the trail for the first time in more than a year, except maybe once or twice, maybe...

for whatever that information is worth to you, here now, the entry:

I suffer from bloat (yeah, the title, in case you forgot)...

it has reached a relatively constant stage now, as I have passed the stage of expanding and contracting to relatively constant belly... that sucks, from my perspective, so the question I pose to myself is why do I want to suck (no double entendres intended)... is it because I am depressed and don't care about myself?... well of course I don't care about myself if I am abusing myself, but depressed?... not according to the standard measures and tests and such... I am bummed about being alone for longer than I'd like to be alone and being alone too much, but depressed is such a heavy word... most of the time I am giddy with excitement over what may happen in the next moment... trouble is, too often these days that excitement is about what tasty decadent food I might enjoy in the next moment... I need more activities than eating in my schedule...

a look at my daily routine might help...

I wake and stumble to the computer chair and plop down... sometimes I don't stumble because I am already in the chair... sometimes I must stumble to the bathroom and return to the chair... in any case, the first moments of stupor after waking are usually spent in the computer chair (used the be the big green chair, until the laptop became unreliable, but hopefully another laptop is in the future and I'll enjoy the big green chair again... though it is getting quite saggy in spots and needs pillow help to be comfy now, it's still the big green chair and I love it)...

most of the time I reach for the keyboard and sit back and start typing... or I'll reach for the mouse and check notes and comments and the pages I left open on the screen before I fell asleep... I'll read some and usually leave some notes or comments and then look at the clock... I may, at that moment, be shocked to find out I have much less time to get ready for work than I'd hoped and try to motivate myself to gather my wits and do all the things I'd like to do (and should do) before leaving for work... sometimes this happens and sometimes I just grumble about there not being enough hours in a day and this planet really out to spin slower... and civilization should not require so much time away from the self in order to survive...

that's a typical work day (evening)... I get out to work, barely making it in one time (sometimes not), do the work things, recently adding some rambling time like this to the mix, and then head home... sometimes I stop for food or supplies of one sort of another, but usually I plop down in the computer chair and sometimes flip on the TV to see what might surprise me and usually nothing does... sometimes I leave the TV on the Sci-Fi channel, sometimes I check out Who Wants to Be a Millionaire and the Seven Days and the Star Trek shows on Spike TV (though yesterday I noticed MacGyver replaced the Star Trek stuff and the TV went off... sometimes I flip on the Sports channel to see how teams are doing... I used to check my fantasy sports teams, but I have lost interest in recent weeks (blame it on the hurricane?) and most days I nod off within an hour of getting home, unless I decide to eat... then it's two or three hours and I might get a little writing done...

what is missing from this picture is comfortable sleep time so I wake rested so I feel more motivated to exercise... what is missing from this picture is exercise so I sleep more comfortably and therein feel more rested... what is missing from this picture is some really great sex...

what?...

oh, well, I wasn't sure that was suppose to slip out just there, but while I love to masturbate and do it often enough to be certain of a place in some circle of hell (and I really ought to be quite blind by now too), I have forgotten the exercise that passionate sexual activity with another person can be...

so am I making myself undesirable (at least to my eyes and touch) because I want to convince myself it's the sluggish lethargy and belly that makes me unattractive to those who are sexually attractive to me and therefore it's not me (I can accept rejection of this body, the temporary shell, but the me inside is ever so sensitive to rejection in spite of what my irreverent peanut gallery or oh so pompous ego might say and I do not want to believe that anyone would reject the true loving harmless heart inside me... tears come to my eyes at the thought... yes, even at work... shuddap...

yup, it's easier to accept this lonely life with a belly cuz a belly is easy to blame...

these are the days of the belly... the belly days...

I also drink too much caffeine and have my body and brain conditioned to look for caffeine as a wake up call rather than produce it's own stimulants, which, combined with lethargy from no vigorous exercise, is downright stupid (and sucks)...

did I mention sugar?...

do you know how many grams of sugar there are in a 32 ounce bottle of Code Red?... 120 grams of sugar... 124 grams of carbs... 40% of the Daily Value whatever that means... when did they change the ADR (adult Daily Requirement) to Daily Value (with an asterisk, no less)?... I suppose I'll just have to do like the asterisk says and visit their website for more information (and commercials, no doubt)...

I can easily drink one every night... and more on the weekends... that's in my most decadent stages... I was there for a few weeks in the past few months... and that's not counting the chocolate... obviously I've all but forgotten I ever had reasonably healthy dietary habits...

if only I could...

trouble (or saving grace) is, I do not forget and I do not like the habits I'm caught up in at the moment and I definitely do not feel comfortable in a belly dominated body... and yes, this does seem to be another whole entry devoted to the belly... obviously it is getting to big for it's britches... or for mine, at least...

speaking of britches, I don't think I've worn a pair of pants that were not sweat pants even once this year... or shorts, for that matter... I guess I should not miss all my worn in Levi's in storage anymore since I couldn't fit into them... was I ever 32/34?... I broke down and bought 36 inch waist pants last year... the casual sort, dockers or something... I'm not sure those would close without a struggle at the moment...

beating myself up but good, am I?... well, if there was a reliable scale nearby I'd hop on... wait, I'll be right back...

222...

I am not sure how accurate that is... I am usually 8-10 pounds lighter on my doctor's scale. than on this scale at work.. yes, I do work in a hospital... if you've read my rambles about work, you understand... but that is still the highest I've been in, ummm, I don't remember... perhaps I've hit a wall... a mental wall, as opposed to a mental block... I mean, what will all this belly talk and disgruntled body language... I might be ready to pull out all the stops and call myself a fat pig...

ooooo, that hurts...

we really should not be laughing, but then again, laughing is probably the best exercise I've done in months... oh dear, that brought on a guffaw, didn't it?... can I laugh myself into shape?... heck, I'd settle for laughing myself into an orgasm... oh, there's that subject again... must be on my mind, huh?... thing is, I'd rather do it myself when I'm this out of shape... I'm not attracted to bodies that are not in shape and being a bloated body myself these days, I'm not turned on by myself (which is a key element to the whole attraction thing, for me at least... bloat is a turn off because of the un-love behind it... you remember those entries, right?)... suddenly, the mood's all serious...

I wonder if sex is a powerful enough motivator for me... it's never been much of a weapon for partners in relationships because for one thing, if it was ever used as a weapon the relationship did not last... I don't enjoy power trips of any kind... however a loving turn on has been known to motivate me to remember to love myself more, that is, a fit person motivates me to want to be more fit... I wonder what the neighbor with the adorable body is doing later... laughter again as I hear a voice in my mind saying, ummmm, I am pretty sure she's legal...

ah, but it's the discipline and effort that staying fit requires that is most attractive to me... I am most attracted to a personality that is centered enough to balance the decadence and fun (hedonism?) of life with the discipline and serious care that is physical fitness... and if I keep typing like this until I get home, I just might hit the gym or the trail for a half hour or more... trouble is, I've got to stop typing and get the kids up and drive home and by then, blah blah blah and more blah... lethargy attacks and I give in... I'm am laziness's slut... apathy's whore...

and still so amused...

I know it all changes the moment I decide to stop playing the lazy games, the poor me games, the giving up games...

and the waiting game...

waiting for the one... waiting for the true love... waiting for the attraction, the lust to be reciprocated and therein inspire me to get back to running and raise my energy level and feel alive and have my best to offer again... if you must know, I'd be a prude and resist the attraction and hope she would understand that until I am in shape that satisfies me, I don't want to lay on her... another quirk, perhaps, but it goes well beyond words and if understanding isn't clear then it's probably a moot point... I don't expect too many people to actually understand me...

but this waiting for someone else who can run faster, jump higher, and maintain a higher energy level than me for longer than I am able to at this moment may be a self-defeating spiral... maybe there is no one who can do it (or maybe nobody ever wanted to... though many have spoken the words and appeared to make the physical effort)... in the end I am move on singing will no one stay awake with me?...

if you think I'm delusional, then I've lost you already and we've never even met... so what matters what comes next?... why would you continue?... human psychology used to fascinate me... now, it's just a job... bored psyche, mine... where's my Marvin-head?...

when I was younger, I'd run miles and miles every day... I'd run to school, I'd run home, I'd run to Amy's house, I'd run home, then I'd run for myself... and then, after an eighteen hour day, I'd run a dozen or more miles and only then feel like I might want to sleep a bit... four hours, max... I'd wake groggy and drag myself to school at a trot and the cycle would start again... five days a week... and then, when the work life replaced the school life, the running continued...

but gradually the laziness, like ankle weights and then anchors, dragged me to a crawl... wanting to share intimacy with others, I found myself buzzing about at way too high an energy level... I'd be running circles around people literally and figuratively... I found myself way too alone in crowds and way too alone in intimate relationships... everyone was ready for sleep long before I was ready to stop playing...

I tried to adjust my energy level... I tried drugs... qualudes helped, but they made us so stupid... funny as hell, but stupid... other downers were depressing, but then, that is probably why they are called downers or depressants... drinking made us even more stupid and had horrible after effects...

nothing worked... so I gave up for a while and became a happy idiot working and going back to school and getting a degree and climbing the ladder of success and saving and investing and making a killing in the market and almost burning out and retiring and living like a king and suddenly I was surrounded by people who swore they'd always be friends and adoration and love and anything I wanted was lavished upon me...

as long as I paid the big bills...

but I was lonely (you've heard this story a million times) for love, for the one and I reached out and thought I found her only to be taken for everything and left to die on the street with just the clothes on my back... and I climbed back into a minimal level of survival and here I sit, wondering what the point of trying might be...

who can really be trusted with everything...

so I've let myself bloat and become unattractive to those I find attractive and attractive (and approachable) to those I find unattractive... punishment for my stupidity, no doubt... there are so many methods to my madness, it is frightening to contemplate from the inside... and who would want in, I mean really in here?...

perhaps I am destined to be alone forever, or at least for the remainder of this life, in which case I wonder why I should live and what else there is to live for that would satisfy me as much as falling in love and becoming one with another...

compromise sucks when it's compromising your whole being...

so much for motivating myself to get out and run and believe there's still someone for me out there who understands me (heck, who understands me even after a gazillion words?... poor me waaa waaa bullshit)...

self-directed anger was never quite the motivator that true love was in this life, but it's all I've got (no wonder I've allowed this lazy apathy period of bloat... things are always most hopeless before the dawn... is it morning yet?)...

actually, it is... morning, that is... and it's time to wake the kiddies, so I'll let this entry fizzle into the blank stare of reality... will I be fed up with my own bull enough after pouring it out here to actually get sneakers on and exercise today?...

only the bloat knows...

. o O ( NOTES ARE THE NEW HAPPY PILL ) O o .
(just let me know you were here)