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18 May 2015, 11:09

That was, indeed, the hardest treadmill hour I’ve done in a long time. And it’s so humid here in the deep fried South, I feel like I’m at the bottom of the Pacific. Non sequitur babble usually follows such situations. I got up early, got this hell done early, so I deserve a wee bit of numby-brain time.

I toy with the idea of chucking all this treadmill/diet stuff, but I’m seeing substantial results internally… sort of… so I’m waiting for the outside to start a metamorphosis. I just CAN’T stop if I’m seeing progress. One thing that’s worrying is that I’m not gaining reserves of energy as I thought I would. It’s either I have a disease, or that I’m just old. But, dutifully, I keep track (mostly) of my calories and my exercise. I don’t really scrutinize the food part because I’m trying to make a permanent lifestyle change so I just do cursory checks as to what I’m eating to make sure I’m on the right path. I need to automatically pick the right foods and right portions, and not be forever monitoring what I shove in my gaping maw. Really, it IS a lifestyle change. The exercise portion is already a habit, one of which, if I don’t accomplish a certain level, I’ll feel guilty, which is good. The food monster I’m still trying to balance. I’m eating only when I’m hungry and not when I’m bored. I do allow junk in my diet, but very little, and I don’t even crave the crap I use to, like the cookies and cake.

My weakness is milk. I love skim milk. I probably drink way more than I should. I can finish off a gallon in about two days. This was THE drink in our house when I was little – and it was the FATTY milk (whole milk). We (one little girl, one old man) drank about three gallons a week. I drank it with EVERYTHING – pizza, stew, hamburgers, pork chops, etc. I drank it as a snack. Sometimes, I drank it as a meal. I’m wondering if that’s where my superhuman choppers came from. My teeth are thick and solidly stuck in my head, with some extras in my mouth. I don’t do a ton of care for them, and they really don’t give me any trouble at all, although, I’m not a dentist, so who knows what horrible shit is going on in there. But there’s no pain, no real obvious signs of trouble. What’s creepy is the extra ones I have in the back of my mouth growing next to the molars. Wisdom teeth? Anatomical characteristics from my hidden Alien DNA?

You know that I think Asians are the genetic descendants of Extraterrestrials, and are the inheritors of the Earth when the Alien Overlords come to claim this planet, don’t you? I may or may not be one of the unfortunate humans culled for slavery or food, since I’m only half Asian. Haven’t heard much about the coming invasion and revolution from my other worldly brethren, so that worries me a bit. It will just be funny when whitey is the first against the wall during the revolt. VIA LA REVOLUCION.

Yeah. That was a tangent.

But back to how I’m doing. It’s really boring how my life is going, but for some reason, I don’t really mind it. I don’t much care for being on the roller coaster of bullshit that sometimes life forces you to spend your E-tickets on. I still fret on tons of things but it hasn’t reached the orange level of “OH SHIT” yet. Everyone around me is happy and healthy, although that orange kitty is not showing enough love towards the big redheaded woman that feeds him. This ain’t some motel and snack bar for you, motherfucker. Get with the program.

Hate cats. Okay. Don’t hate cats. Don’t really bond to them like I do dogs.

Tangent 2.

The trouble with not having REAL crisis to deal with and obsess on is that things that don’t matter take up a lot of attention they shouldn’t. I accidentally on purpose went and just perused one of the fattie forum for the fitness conscious (yeah, I said fattie. send hate mail to: likeIcare@nottoday.com) and there’s a ton of women that are kevetching about exercising and not eating. They seem to think they should be seeing miraculous results after three weeks of Kale and crunches. “I don’t see anything, and it’s been a month” blah blah blah. Being the supportive and nurturing soul I am, I spent the better part of the afternoon beating up on chubby women about how it’s a lifestyle change, that nothing good is easy, that expecting instant results is ridiculous and why don’t they use the internet to google some real helpful information on how the body and weight loss works from reputable sites instead of listening like sheep to fucking Dr. OZ or whatever other horseshit they are taking in without questioning. Oh, and I threw in some stuff about the failures of a society demanding instant gratification and lack of motivation to just put in the hard work. I came off as a self righteous dick. I felt illegitimately offended that I put in hard labor and toil into losing the pittance of poundage and researched until I understood about the science of weight loss, and these whiney flabsters expect to instantly turn into Kate Moss after three weeks. Eh, I know it was a failure of character on my part to do that, but hey, the internet is there for assholes to publicly shame strangers behind the comforting cloak of anonymity. I know it was wrong. I regret it. Sorta. I’m just glad I wasn’t on some Star Trek forum screaming about the violation of canon and having a giant nerd nutty.

My faculties are slowly returning and the goo that bogs down my brain after exercise is starting to seep off. I’ll have to be domestic here in a little while. I just don’t understand why there is SO much to do everyday. Well. I do understand. I just can’t do anything about 65% of the cause because that 65% doesn’t pay much attention to my bitching and moaning. I do want to get ahead of the mess, so that I can have a day where I can just puter around, changing drives, moving computers, playing with files and all. I like that shit. I don’t like scrapping dried ketchup off plates. Or grocery shopping. Or washing clothes. Or vacuuming. Usually, my house (when I lived alone) was spotless except for one room or one corner that was just a landfill of shit. The little part of the dwelling I existed in. So I guess I’m a localized slob, instead of a moving tornado of messy.

That was kind of fun. I’m disappointed my writing isn’t more erudite, more graceful. I read some of my friend (https://moeskido.wordpress.com”) and I am humbled at the way it sounds. The flow and grace of their words seem effortless, whereas when I want to write on that level, I have to fire on all cylinders for it to come out as literarily grand. I feel as though what I pen is more like a hammer pounding out verbiage. It’s “Porky’s” quality as compared to “The Remains of the Day”.

I guess as long as I make someone laugh. Usually that someone is me. Hmpt. Good enough.