Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Bend But Don't Under Any Circumstances Break

Today is August 10. I just flipped my calender from July to August. Went from a 1951 Gibson ES 350 to a 1972 Gretsch Chet Atkins Tennessean, but that's a story for another place and time.
The late flipping is a bad sign. I have been religious about flipping because I have attacked this year vigorously, and I feel like I'm doing all the right things so moving from month to month has not bothered me. Now I'm dealing with a bit of a funk. Got sick in July and it disturbed my rhythm. Exercising became periodic instead of an obsession and it has remained so. I'm skipping days at a time even though I definitely feel better. I'm funked out and punked out. The mind is trying to figure out just what the hell is going on.
I'm looking for results but suddenly it feels like I'm going backwards. Exercise like a fiend, lose one quarter of an ounce. Winter hits on September 1 and I won't be able to walk anymore because there will be four feet of snow on the ground. And walking is key to weight loss, coupled with riding the exercise bike. At my age you cannot just ride an exercise bike and expect to lose weight. I expect to gain 45 pounds between September 1, 2011 and June 30, 2012.
I applied for two full time NHSLC jobs and they disappeared. Maybe they decided they would rather continue to exploit their part timers because they don't have to pay benefits or OT, than to move people into full time positions. I don't know. I do know I am not getting enough hours at The Booze Emporium and it is killing us financially. We are barely getting by and I hate the stress on Carol's face every time the goddamn mortgage vampire waits expectantly for his slice of our pie. What should I do? There are no jobs out there, options are minimal or non-existant, I am not achieving anything at all from writing and I am damn sick of eating cat food.
Summer brought hope on July 1, now it is slipping away unappreciated. We have been unable to do anything because of my work schedule and the lack of cash. At this point I don't give a damn, let it go and I'll just immerse myself in football and look for grand release.
Bought tickets to a Gregg Allman concert scheduled for August 30 figuring that would end my summer on a high note. He is sick and the concert is cancelled.
I woke up at 4:39 a.m. this morning to go to the bathroom. Couldn't get back to sleep. Lay there waiting for the alarm to go off at 5:30 for Carol, eventually crawled out of bed at 6:30. I have the day off today. I sleep like crap. I NEVER get a good night's sleep. I am tired from the minute I get out of bed until the minute I crawl back into it. I am sick of being tired. And I am pissed that we can't even afford one of these high tech mattresses that might help me sleep restfully, although I doubt it.
Even having the day off creates stress. I like not working and I spend a full day doing positive things trying to get healthy and create new income, BUT I am not getting paid. Sinking deeper into the hole.
I am reading George Carlin's autobiography. Fascinated by his description of his mindset and the difficulties he had evolving into his true self. When he was doing Hippy Dippy Weatherman and Wonderful WINO it drove him crazy because he wasn't expressing his true self. Even after he evolved and got into the 7 dirty words, he regressed at another point in his career, focusing on fart jokes and bodily fluids etc. He admits in the book it was a mindless, easy way to keep his career going and he wasn't proud of it. I found that interesting because I never understood why he did that stuff, I never liked it, and I'm glad to know he didn't either. Beyond that I am absorbed with his evolution because I am trying to evolve right now and it is a struggle.
I am bending right now. I have been tough and dedicated all year, absorbed with change and trying real hard. But the past month I am really pissed off and I have slowed down, gotten weaker and less focused.
The only proof I have that I have fundamentally changed is that I refuse to give up. The old me would be sipping whiskey right now in an expression of self defeat. That is not going to happen. I will suck it back up and keep fighting right on through until December 31. The next day will be my 58th birthday and a day where I can sit back and figure out what all my efforts in 2011 got me. And a day when I will figure out what I need to do next.
The NHSLC can screw with my ability to earn money, I might remain obese, the writing community might continue to ignore me and I might have to keep eating cat food right along with Maka and Lakota but I will not give up. I need to prove to myself that I am better than I have been, I need to align my physical reality with the reality of my soul, I need to be comfortable in my own skin, I need to live a life I can be proud of, the one I am capable of, not the one I settle for.
I am so damn restless right now I could scream. Actually I would do that except it would scare the hell out of the cats. Although I know, as naturally intuitive as they are, they would understand exactly what is going on in my mind. Thank god they are so generous with their food.

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