The Epitome of Randomness

Ooooo-K. So I really like this blogging thing and find myself thinking about things I want to write about all the time. I just wish I had a little more dedicated time to do just that. But alas, there are only 24 hours in a day and I find myself squeezing in a little keyboard time, usually at the end of it. Even now as I listen to the sound of my husbands humming sonicare and then the toilet flushing, and so as not to gross you out, the final hand-washing, I am being waited for. We have a movie to watch but I gotta throw some words into the “internets.” I will throw them softly even though usually I want to launch them with the proverbial trebuchet.

There’s a lot going on in the news which bothers me. This whole Trayvon Martin incident and the fact that skittles are the new gang sign should have most of us wanting to have long, drawn out sit-downs with our boys. It’s a cruel world out there, and while I don’t profess to know all the details I will say, “I smell a rat.” Tonight a friend posted something on her Facebook that went like this:

-“i don’t watch the news…those stories keep me up at night–injustice rubs my soul raw. when i heard about treyvon martin’s death it brought me to my feet and left me with no where to go…but i’m afraid for my soul if i change nothing but my fb status update… {Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. — Martin Luther King Jr.}”

I thought that was very apropos, I’ve posted some stuff on my Facebook about it, so what next? I’ve read a lot of articles about it, I’m sad for his family. That’s all I have to say about it for now…sometimes, I just wished things were different, and I know I want to do my part to make this world a better place. God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference- An exerpt from the serenity prayer by Reinhold Niebuhr.

So about changes, let me tell you wazz up with me. I am here, I am alive and I am feeling more since eating less. Is that what it boils down to? Is emotional stuffing eating all about forgetting circumstances? Is it a way to escape pain? Is food the socially acceptable crack, passed around in bible studies and block parties, peddled in gargantuan portions at American restaurants on any given evening? Are we numbing our nerves and calming our minds as we blindly eat upwards of 2,000 calories a meal?

If so, it’s a shame. A shame that a neighboring community has to enroll children in the back snack program for the weekends because momma can’t work it out enough to feed the hungry mouths she’s brought into this world. Or maybe that momma has chosen a different vice other than food, maybe she actually uses crack and that’s where the money goes, along with her dignity. How does it make you feel when you see a mother, a strung out crack addicted mother that is not caring for her children because of her preoccupation with her own addiction? Now contrast that with a mother in a grocery store or fast food restaurant that is clearly morbidly obese, and seemingly on a mission to coin a more intense description of her size? I can tell you that if she is in her pain and using food to soothe her aching soul, the children from both families are probably suffering parallel emotional distress. Back to my original point, one community has trouble feeding the family, the next can’t see the back of the pantry for all the food.

All that being said. I don’t know where the hell I’m going with this post. HA! I just sat here and started writing so if you’re reading this I sincerely hope you didn’t have any pre-conceived notions about the enlightenment you were about to be afforded. Maybe I just vomited into the internets instead of gracefully lobbing my words at you. Ah well, there’s always next time.

I am still on the wagon. Eating well for hunger, not for other reasons. I am learning how to have a new relationship with food. It’s there to nourish me and so I make better decisions, except that I am a recovering chip addict and right now the salty crunch in a Funyun has me rethinking my game. It’s the lowest calorie chip I can find and if I can fit that 180 cals into my daily grind an still work this plan I think I will die happy. It’s yet to be determined and if my trainer reads this there will be hell to pay. Otherwise, all’s well in the land of my fitness pal. Still grinding away at the Insanity, I’ve completed 3.5 weeks and I love the feeling of sweat running down the back of my neck. I’ve come to terms with the messy bun high on the back of my head every day after my shower, in fact, I’ve developed quite an affinity for the look.

Hubs is yawning, it’s his way of saying push play or I’m signing off…gotta go…to bed hungry, and that’s…ok.