Speed Trials

I haven’t posted in a while because nothing’s really changed over the last few weeks. Artengine still keeps me busy most days, NAC keeps me busy most Tuesday and Thursday evenings, and Angelo is still as great as ever.

But recently I’ve been a little introspective, and I decided I needed a cleanse. Big time, for real, straight up. I tried the Master Cleanse twice before, the first time lasting five days, the second time a dismal 3. So I brought my idea to Ange, and asked for his help. I knew I couldn’t do this alone. I knew my will power wasn’t strong enough to get through it by myself. He was really great about it, and even set up a calendar of rewards for me for every day I stayed on the programme.

So for the last seven days I’ve ingested nothing but the lemonade drink, Peppermint tea, and a herbal laxative tea and salt water flush for bowel evacuations. It’s been fun!

Actually, it’s been tough. And not fun at all. I’ve been really cold for seven days straight, to the point where I can’t sleep unless Ange is there to keep me warm. And I’ve been tired and a little down for most of it. It’s been really taxing, and I wanted to give up after day four, but Angelo made me talk it out and convinced me to stick with it. Our compromise was to go for seven days, meaning I would end it tomorrow, but this morning I felt like I could go on, so I changed my mind again and decided to do the whole ten days. That would bring me up to the end of Saturday.

I’m feeling good about the fact that I’ve done it this long, and I’m starting to see how it is changing my relationship with food, and bringing to light my own fortitude, my own sense of self. There is definitely a change occurring in me as we speak, and it’s so reassuring. It’s uplifting, amidst the hardship of this fast. I don’t automatically open the fridge door the minute I get home anymore, and I’m more in control of myself.

The last few days have seen me pouring over cookbooks, looking for the healthiest versions of things, and thinking that all I want to do is make tomato sauce and vegetable stock and dolmades and no-sugar muffins from scratch.

It’s quarter to five, and it’s dark out. And it’s raining. And my nose is dripping. And I’m home now and I just realized I have to go back out into that cold November evening. I tend to forget just how isolated we become with the onset of inclement weather. It’s such an effort to go out. I was on my bike fifteen minutes ago, regretting not having worn my mittens, and pressing on solely on the knowledge that I would soon be cozied up in my apartment. Now that I have to go out again, I already feel the chill in my bones, and the rain water that still hasn’t dried off my clothes is getting me down.

I’ve been working from home for the past couple of weeks, and it’s been nice, though a little difficult to stay motivated (especially with Angelo off work and looking for diversion). This is what my kitchen looks like these days, and I just want it all sorted. All in due course, I suppose.

Saw Shortbus last night. I’m still not sure what I think of it. I liked watching it, it was stimulating and cute and lively and all that, but I don’t think it had much of a point. I don’t think it was potent enough. It attempted to turn inwardly on all of these sexual issues, but then never really brought anything out to us, so we were left just looking at a masterbation session (not in the literal sense, which is what we were watching) but in the acting sense, where it wasn’t for us at all, it was just for the filmmaker and actors.