There’s something tragic in it, the way you can painstakingingly, meticulously, hold-your-breath-don’t-breathe-don’t-you-dare-even-unclench-your-jaw-ingly plan and set yourself up, piece by piece. Square by square. Dot by dot. And the moment– the moment you think you can retract your finger and pull your hand away, one little wobble and tip begins the fall.
You watch your work fall, and fall, and fall. Piece by piece. Square by square.
It doesn’t take further than the fifth tile– maybe not even– for you to helplessly sink into that feeling of giving up. It’s futile to fight it. Just like how it’s futile to stop the blocks by falling.
I’ll be honest, the Domino Effect can be applied to a great deal of aspects in my life right now. Take for one, this blog. Three weeks, no update. What, three entries in, and you’re about ready to throw in the towel, self? Let the blog rot in an abandoned little corner of the internet, along with countless others, sitting there and doing nothing but take up a URL name?
Not like that’s anything new.
You know what else, the Effect can sometimes accompany the Struggle Bus, spewing and chugging out of its exhaust pipes, a lovely little fanfare and a death knell for occupants of the Struggle Bus. To illustrate, I’ve got clothes everywhere in my room, I have yet to start packing to move out, I can’t be arsed enough to care about my Physics class and consequently am trailing a little behind (just a little!). Thumbing through my calendar, the weeks ahead only look like they’re going to get even worse.
The Struggle Bus is around the corner, and it doesn’t stop for anybody. Especially not lazy-asses like me.
On a food-related note, last Sunday, I fucking binged on the most unhealthy shit I have ever put into my body in a long while. I was torn between berating myself, rationalizing whatever the hell I was putting into my mouth (yoooo this barely even counts as food more than chemically altered salt, sugar, and the worst kinds of fats ever), and trying to decide if it was worth ever doing it. Motherfucking pizza, and ice cream, and cookies, and popcorn chicken, and ranch, and Christ Almighty, things I don’t even want to remember. For some reason, it was hard to stop. Even worse, it wasn’t even that great! And even though the worst of it was on Sunday, that whole weekend was full of me wrecking my body. With a morbid, sardonic scoff, I even thought I was going to keep myself on the straight-line in order to get myself for Hawaii, where then I could really seek out the good stuff, stuff that I wouldn’t be able to get, or would only be able to get of mediocre quality, here in Texas.
I felt so awful about it, I ran that night, and fasted for a whole twenty-four hours later. I feel better now, but I thought it was kind of curious how I felt gross not only because I was browbeating myself, but physically, my body felt something nasty. Lethargy, sleepiness, a slight headache…the Itis? Maybe, but calling it that seems almost affectionate with a touch of humor, and there’s really nothing funny about stuff you shove down your piehole literally jacking you up.
So here I am, staring at the pieces, the shambolic remains of what I had built up.
But you know sometimes, when you rewind video tapes (back when they existed), things just seemed so different backwards? New paradigms and perspectives arise. Or remember how creepy it was to sometimes play a song backwards and hear an entirely different message?
(Okay, now scratch out creepy, and replace it with inspiring. That’s what I’m trying to aim for, here.)
Life isn’t as easy to rewind, in fact it’s downright impossible. But that’s not the point; the point is to get the hell off those laurels, off the whole crying over things spilled spiel, and instead, I’m going to look upon the hope that I had as I was starting, and start picking up the pieces now before it’s too late. And who knows what I may find– a new, fresher idea, a better plan– and it’s only going to happen if I start up again.
So that’s what I’m going to do.
Starting with this here food-blog pet project of mine.