Situation Normal. Atmosphere Breathable. Brainstem Injected. Dialogue Engaged.
stg-roadrunner-gfx
Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Excrement Measuring Cup

PhotobucketPhotobucketPhotobucket


When I started this blog,...

No. Wait.

When I founded this institution, I wrote in it like a diary for the the first year. After I started experimenting with fiction and memoir, I got a bit self-important (founded! institution!) and stopped writing simply to gratify myself. I implemented quality control. I took into consideration my (mostly imaginary) audience. After a couple years of hot and heavy writing, I lost steam, became overly critical of my output, and finally trickled to a near halt. (trickled to a near halt? Jesus that's awful)

No more. If I am to resume frequent writing, I must pick and peck away with nary a whit of self-consciousness; no consideration given to any litmus of quality. In fact, this garbage likely won't be very entertaining. It's my blog, and I can ramble on about mundane nonsense all day long if it pleases me. Call this Operation Plummeting Standards.

It's just a damn diary, who cares if I don't lock it and hide it under my bed like every other self-respecting 4th grade girl?

Uh...

So. Writing stuff down. Not like riding a bicycle. Forgetting happens. Style, grace, eloquence, depth? Eh. Linear? Pshaw.

Nope. Just grocery lists and workout stats here. Maybe even some bitching about everyday annoyances. I'm like your mother in law, except with a penis and fewer menopause references.

On January 9th I quit smoking cigarettes. It was a Saturday. I had a Marlboro Medium at 11am. It tasted like dry rape. I was recovering from a pre-pneumonia upper respiratory infection, throughout the course of which I was my usual chimney-like self. I put that cigarette out and thought, "I guess that's enough."

Unlike previous attempts, there was no momentous decision. There was no quit day, or last pack, or planning of any sort. I just went cold turkey late one morning, casually.

As a result, my infrequent pot smoking ceased. I can't smoke a bowl without a post-bowl cigarette. I can now pass a drug test with confidence for the first time in over a decade. (never taken one, never needed to) I drink infrequently. The two times since I quit that I've gotten good and loaded, both times I smoked a cigarette(s), and as a result, felt like shit and had trouble breathing for two days afterwards. I'm glad that I didn't use those few drunk cigarettes as an excuse to cancel my quitting, like I would've in the past. I just went right back to not smoking.

I'm not good a moderating my alcohol intake, anyways, and I haven't really enjoyed being drunk since I stopped using cocaine and ephedrine, so I'm thinking of quitting alcohol altogether. No concrete pledge right now.

So I'm a clean person these days. I never envisioned this version of myself. It's strange. I've decided I like it. I feel fantastic.

I knew I'd eat more. I gave myself a week to eat whatever I could could shove in my greasy face. The next couple weeks, I transitioned from candy bars to oranges as my primary snack. Soon, carrots and celery replaced pizza and gyros as my afternoon repast. I stopped buying ice cream and soda pop altogether. Research ensued.

I listened to some Michael Pollan lectures on youtube. "Eat real food. Not too much. Mostly plants." I stopped patronizing fast food places and began spending time in the produce section. I stopped shopping the aisles and stuck to the periphery of the grocery store. Meat, dairy, produce. No processed, refined, man-made pseudo-food. Goodbye Little Debbie, you whore. Fuck off, Chef Boyardee. I discovered that I love things like persimmon, tindora, jicama, daikon, and edamame. I also learned to avoid parsnips and turnips.

Now I'm a pro at steaming brussels sprouts for exactly 7:15. I know I like asparagus with plain butter, not hollandaise sauce. My mom gave me a crock pot, and I use it at least once a week to prepare curried vegetables or chili for consumption at work. I've become a big fan of tupperware containers. I've put myself on a 90% paleolithic diet, so no bread, pasta, refined sugars, starches, or grains, but all the bacon and corned beef I can stand. Eggs too.

I read fitness blogs for new and interesting bodyweight workouts. I bought a nice 3'x8' exercise mat, an 8 lb. medicine ball, some 15 lb. dumbbells, and a jump rope. I spend about 5-10 intense minutes a day with them, which is enough to make me sore. I'll step it up as my body adjusts. (I've been a lazy shit for a long time, so my body can't take much before my knees and shoulder threaten to sever, and my lungs are still very confused and angry.)

I feel pretty damn good. My life is less about what I'm not doing (smoking) and more about what I am. (practicing healthy activity) Give me a few months and you may see me as a testimonial on a late night infomercial.

Oh, and my bowel movements are legendary.
5:11 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm

4 Comments:

February 26, 2010 9:44 AM, Anonymous jamie said...

welcome back! look forward to reading more.

 
February 28, 2010 6:12 PM, Blogger Christa said...

Thank God you're back. No one on the Internet is able to gross me out so thoroughly.

BTW, speaking of gross, you should read some Ryu Murakmai.

 
March 25, 2010 7:04 PM, Blogger James said...

Look at you! Congrats, man. I've also noticed that since I've been exercising regularly, I shit like a champ--if they were to give out championships for such things. Welcome back.

 
June 12, 2010 3:37 PM, Blogger staticwarp said...

i like this blog. i hope i can quit garbage food, tobacco and beer soon. it happened with weed. one day i was just like "this sucks. i'm not doing it anymore." hopefully i can do that with tobacco soon. my right lung hurts when i inhale. my week revolves around getting totally plastered one day and recovering for two days. i'm constantly exhausted and absent from school. something's gotta change here.

 

Post a Comment

left-arrow Home

stg-shark
Whiskey Tango Foxtrot
Asshole Practice
I Love My Office
Generosity Of Spirit
Hero Worship (An Obituary)
Raindrops Keep Fallin On My Head
Monty Python's Flying Chicago
If The River Was Whiskey
Seduction Of The Ancients
Seeping Hairy Meatquake
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
August 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
February 2008
May 2008
August 2008
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
December 2009
February 2010
March 2010
April 2010
May 2010
August 2010
August 2011
September 2011
February 2012
June 2012
July 2012
August 2012
October 2012
November 2012
May 2013
August 2013
September 2013
December 2013
May 2014
October 2014
November 2014
December 2016