QonCUE

This accurately displays how I felt yesterday afternoon and evening.  My cravings for food and cigarettes had completely joined forces to turn me into a monstrously irritable cunt.  (Sorry ladies, I tried to find another word that was as effective in describing my mood and behavior but it doesn’t exist.)

Soon I realized that I was slowly transforming into one of the poodles that I had threatened to rip in half.  I was going from terrier (terror?) to poodle in 3.5.  It was apparent that something had to give - either the fast or the cigarettes.  I caved and went with the cigarettes knowing that it would immediately ease one of the cravings and allow me to continue with the fast.  If I had dropped the fast I would have still been craving a cigarette.

Sure, I felt guilty but I also felt one hundred times better.  I decided that I could stick with the fast - that I’d go to bed early and wake up early feeling alive and one with the world.  I was positive!  I was looking at the fast, not as a challenge, but as an enlightening experience.  It was almost peace-of-mind - everything was going to be sunshine and rainbows and unicorn shit.

And then I slept.  And had the nightmare to end all nightmares.  I can’t even go into detail because it was that fucking disturbing.  Trust me, I debated - there’s so much twisted humor to be shared - but I can’t bring myself to relive the, well, nightmare.

Anyway, once I awoke, I found myself feeling less alive and more like this:

Maybe it was a result of the detoxing.  Maybe it was the nightmare.  Maybe it was some combination of factors.  It didn’t matter.  The fact remained that I felt like shit and looked like what would happen if you melted Peter Griffin’s face.

But, I was determined.  I drank my glass of water.  I got ready for work.  I grabbed my juice and left for the bus, still feeling like Sloth.  No, not a sloth.  Sloth, from the Goonies.  I arrived at work, very concerned that I was getting a cold or the flu.  Yet I was still feeling determined to do what I had to do to make it to Saturday.

That is until I consulted my friend Makenzie, who was also embarking on this fast with me.  She wasn’t feeling wonderful but she didn’t feel shitty like me.  Regardless, we both felt that it was nearing time to start getting back on solid foods again.  I didn’t feel particularly healthy so I was ready to accept the change.

We both decided that we were going to finish out the third day and then start slowly incorporating solid foods again tomorrow, starting with solid fruits and vegetables.  For me, salad, since the vegetable juices taste like what must come out of a baboon’s ass after a night of drinking Jagermeister.  

I’m not disappointed for ending the fast before Saturday - in fact, I’m proud of myself for making it as far as I did given my physical and mental condition.  There were many positive things that came from doing it - I no longer crave many of the processed foods that I once adored.  I’m committed to continuing to eat healthier and more consciously, which was really my biggest reason for doing the fast.  I no longer feel like the gianormous fat ass that I never really was, which is fantastic.  And on that note, I’m now determined to begin working out so that I can feel comfortable without a shirt in public.  Because as it stands now, I look like a tall E.T.

In case you were wondering what that might look like.

As the night draws to a close, I find myself not feeling ill but not feeling hungry either.  Part of me feels that I may be able to continue another day but another part of me seems to know that I should start eating again.  Regardless, I now know that when I do start eating again it’s going to be a slow process.  The thought of eating many foods is unappealing.  This could end up being a big perk.

EDIT:  (Upon reflection, I decidedly do not have the body of an 85 year old transexual.)

Today I had the pleasure of watching a pigeon shit in front of me while I was at the bus stop.  While he was popping said squat on the middle of Smithfield street, he looked at me with those souless, evil eyes (common to most of the avian species) as if to say “For bodily functions I shame have not.  Shame are you.”  

Pigeons apparently also lack shame for their piss-poor use of the English language.

In that moment, while locking eyes with this unintelligent scavenger, I suddenly felt at one with the world around me.  

You know, with nature.

The breeze seemed to whisper as it whistled past my ears.  The bright, winter sun bounced from my retinas to create little pools of colorful joy around me.  It felt like a sign - a reminder that I, too, am nature and am merely a part of this wonderful world around me.  And so if this bird can shit out in the open, proud of nature’s powerful cycle, then why can’t I do the same?  I mean, if I really have to go then why should I - or any of us - have to feel ashamed for squatting beside a dumpster?  It’s just part of the cycle.

A beautiful, beautiful cycle.

I went to bed very early last night so that I wouldn’t think about eating anymore.  I woke up at 7am feeling refreshed and rejuvenated.  I had a glass of water, I got ready for work, grabbed the afternoon’s juice and headed out.

Once I arrived at work I was still feeling great.  Big change from the projectile vomiting that I did yesterday.  I was upbeat, positive, feeling good.  Then, around 10:30, it started.  It wasn’t hunger or a cigarette craving - it was something bigger than that.  It was like overnight my hunger and my lust for a cigarette rolled together and combined to create the ultimate pang.  It doesn’t even anger me.  It makes me desperate.

You know that feeling you get when you’ve been running uphill - the one where you’re so completely exhausted but you know that you only have a short distance left?  And then what remains of your inner strength kicks in, you get that boost of adrenaline, and you make it to the top of the hill.  This feels like that - only I’m still feeling that exhausted “I don’t know that I can go on” feeling.  I keep waiting for that surge of adrenaline.

However, I have reached the point where I think to myself “Fuck this, I’m grown, I’m buying a pack of cigarettes!”  But I stop myself.  The positive effects of this fast better kick in quickly or I fear that it won’t last much longer… especially when I’m drinking something like I am today.  It’s an abominable concoction of broccoli, kale, pepper, tomatoes, carrots, and a splash of lime.  I want it to die. 

Although I may die right along with it.

As the day carries on, I find myself phenomenally more famished.  It’s unpleasant.  This is working in tandem with my cigarette cravings to create an even more unpleasant result.  The bitchiness that usually just skims the surface of my being has now completely sunken into my skin and is surging through my veins.  I no longer want to rip poodles.  I want to rip them open and eat their fucking innards.

What?  I’m hungry.

I almost ate my co-worker’s hair.  For serious.  I looked up from my desk to find that her hair had become cascading ropes of licorice.  My god did I want to just take a bite.  I don’t even like licorice.  I think that I was just hopeful that I would get a taste and it would be something even though I knew that it was just hair.  And then I wanted a Snickers.  I lusted for a Snickers for a solid two hours.  By this point, my first juice was gone.

It hasn’t even been a day, people.

Today I started a juice fast.  In short, this is where I cleanse and detox my system by not eating solid foods and only drinking juice for 6 - 10 days.  I have to juice fruits and vegetables so that they can enter my system already broken down and also so that my body can obtain their nutrients.  The hope is that I’ll begin a healthier lifestyle and that I’ll lose some weight in the process - both things that I’ve been wanting to accomplish for years.

Here’s today’s first juice:

A fruit melee of apples, grapes, mango, oranges, and strawberries, back lit for your enjoyment.  That dark matter on top is akin to how my soul feels about giving up fattening foods.  And it’s delicious.

In order to do this fast, I had to give up a lot - including smoking and caffeine.  I’ve been wanting to quit smoking for awhile.  I haven’t had a cigarette in four days.  The first two days were fine - I didn’t even miss them.  Yesterday was spent with a headache that wouldn’t go away.  Today I feel as though I could rip a poodle in half.  I keep reminding myself  that it’s all in my head, that I don’t need a cigarette.  But then I want to rip Phyllis Diller in half.  For no reason.  She didn’t even do anything.

Unless she’s the Phyllis Diller “Bone Yard” poodle.  Then I shall rip her, post haste.

Ironically, this is precisely how I feel on my fourth day without a cigarette…

As for the caffeine, I wasn’t necessarily trying to get away from it but considering that I ingest around 4 -5  cups a day, due in large part to my employment as a barista, it wouldn’t hurt to cut back for a few days.  Plus, it’s a trigger for the smoking so it’s really a win/win situation.

I don’t eat much, normally, so I wasn’t too concerned about not having solid food.  I fear that this train of thought may have been mistaken.  Every time I feel a pang of hunger, I take a few sips of the juice.  It helps.  That is until I get up to use the bathroom and pass the vending machine.  Reese’s Cups.  Or until my co-workers (those bitches) order out from the local pizza place.  Buffalo Chicken. 
If this fast accomplishes what I’d like for it to accomplish, I can’t even have either of those things ever again.

I’m suddenly very depressed about my health.

A few days ago I sat upon a couch, not too dissimilar from the one on which I am currently planted, and my mind wandered.  I thought of many things - trees and houses, tree houses, dollhouses, Dollhouse and how I’d never seen it but knew it was a failure, tree dollhouses, how a tree dollhouse could actually work… like, would it be a small tree with tiny house or would it be a regular tree with a tiny house?  Or does your dollhouse have a tree in the front yard and in that tree there’s a little wooden tree house with little tiny tree house furniture?

In case you’re as curious as I was, I’ve done a Google image search.  No such thing as a tree dollhouse - there could be a whole untapped market here people - but I did find a picture of this woman:

Her name is Jacqui but she goes by Jax which didn’t help me figure out which side of the androgyny fence she falls on.  I settled with woman.  Anyway, she makes miniature trees like this one:

Which isn’t very exciting.  So moving on.

My mind eventually wandered away from tree dollhouses and I found myself thinking about my life.  I do that often.  It’s terrifying.

See, when you realize that an unhealthy portion of your hopes and dreams are in the beginning stages of the burial process at an early age, you start to wonder just how the fuck they got there in the first place.  At what point in the life-decision making process did this happen?  And then you reflect.  And then you immediately stop reflecting because you realize “Oh, shit, I’ve been fucking up since day one.  How have I managed to be functional for this long?”

And then you think “Hey, I’m only 25 and I’ve got my whole life ahead of me!  I can fix this!”  But as you look forward, the big open slate in front of you becomes rather intimidating, the options overwhelm you, and then you end up back in the present, sitting on the couch, and you realize that you’ve totally missed the last 20 minutes of this Golden Girls episode that you’d been watching and now you’re going to have to rewind it.

I’ve labeled this my Quarterlife Conundrum.  It’s not a crisis because, holy shit, that’s urgent.  Plus, it doesn’t require a convertible or a crack rock.  It feels more open-ended, like the slate of my life is so vast and open yet I have no idea what direction I want to take it.  So it’s a conundrum - a puzzle that can be solved in any number of ways. 

And all of this thinking has brought me here, back to blogging, where I intend to share my experience solving my Quarterlife Conundrum.  The whole experience -from the memes that amuse me to the stories of my past to the big life decisions that I’m currently making.  Maybe somewhere along the way I’ll find the pieces I need to complete the puzzle.

You know, so that I can hurry up and get on with my mid-life crisis in 15 years…