I was in an apathetic mood, much of the day...which is an improvement over how I felt, yesterday. But it's been quite the roller-coaster, and for once none of it's thanks to PS or my writing in general...but work on the book became non-existent, so it's involved, too...and this sentence makes no sense. Let's start over.
It started with a strange health situation, yesterday about noon. I started to feel sweaty then became light-headed and suddenly I was starving. I calmed it down by eating some dried cranberries and having a cup of hot tea, but then I began craving Mexican food so much, I drove 10 miles to an OK Mexican restaurant and had decent enough cheese enchiladas, rice, beans and guac along with a Dos Equis...and began to feel good, again.
I grabbed some groceries and drove home, then wound up so weary, I had to take a nap. When I woke up, I was so deeply depressed I couldn't focus on anything. I managed to get some reading done and a bit of research...but didn't touch the outline or write a word. I just wallowed in my misery till it was time to get to bed...and then I couldn't sleep.
And by couldn't sleep, I don't call it insomnia because I know people who have that and it's hellacious. For me, it was taking over an hour to drift off when I'm normally deep into slumber-ville within 5 minutes of hitting the pillow. And it's not like my mind was racing; it was more of a blank that just would not take the final step to shut down.
Then today I had to go to work. The one positive was, I was alone in the office. My co-worker had a fender-bender so called in, and both the owners are in NYC laying the groundwork for next year's book fair. I had a bit to do so got it done, despite my sense of apathy, then as I came home I decided I wanted a chili dog. So got 2 and fries and brought them home and scarfed them down and felt a thousand times better. I want another one, tomorrow.
Man, I can still taste the chili and onions and Tabasco I put on it...but it killed my mood. Let me see that I haven't been eating like I should...and by that I mean I've been trying to cut back and eat better meals, and my body was freaking out and didn't like it and finally said, Enough! The enchilada meal was a good start to satisfying it, but it was the chili dogs that settled it down.
I guess I'm never going to diet, because when I do my body rebels. I work out...and I get a cold. I cut back my caloric intake, and I start feeling weak and unhappy. I'm pre-diabetic; maybe I finally toppled over into it. But eating crap just because it's good for you is the antithesis of how I've lived my life. And my DNA is saying, STFU and stop trying to be good; you're not.
And I don't mind that idea, at all.
It started with a strange health situation, yesterday about noon. I started to feel sweaty then became light-headed and suddenly I was starving. I calmed it down by eating some dried cranberries and having a cup of hot tea, but then I began craving Mexican food so much, I drove 10 miles to an OK Mexican restaurant and had decent enough cheese enchiladas, rice, beans and guac along with a Dos Equis...and began to feel good, again.
I grabbed some groceries and drove home, then wound up so weary, I had to take a nap. When I woke up, I was so deeply depressed I couldn't focus on anything. I managed to get some reading done and a bit of research...but didn't touch the outline or write a word. I just wallowed in my misery till it was time to get to bed...and then I couldn't sleep.
And by couldn't sleep, I don't call it insomnia because I know people who have that and it's hellacious. For me, it was taking over an hour to drift off when I'm normally deep into slumber-ville within 5 minutes of hitting the pillow. And it's not like my mind was racing; it was more of a blank that just would not take the final step to shut down.
Then today I had to go to work. The one positive was, I was alone in the office. My co-worker had a fender-bender so called in, and both the owners are in NYC laying the groundwork for next year's book fair. I had a bit to do so got it done, despite my sense of apathy, then as I came home I decided I wanted a chili dog. So got 2 and fries and brought them home and scarfed them down and felt a thousand times better. I want another one, tomorrow.
Man, I can still taste the chili and onions and Tabasco I put on it...but it killed my mood. Let me see that I haven't been eating like I should...and by that I mean I've been trying to cut back and eat better meals, and my body was freaking out and didn't like it and finally said, Enough! The enchilada meal was a good start to satisfying it, but it was the chili dogs that settled it down.
I guess I'm never going to diet, because when I do my body rebels. I work out...and I get a cold. I cut back my caloric intake, and I start feeling weak and unhappy. I'm pre-diabetic; maybe I finally toppled over into it. But eating crap just because it's good for you is the antithesis of how I've lived my life. And my DNA is saying, STFU and stop trying to be good; you're not.
And I don't mind that idea, at all.
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