In Which I Blabber About Stuffs

I haven't really given much thought to food this week.

Let me rephrase that.

I haven't given much thought to diet this week.

Well, ok, not really. Let me try again.

I haven't given much thought to weight loss this week.

I've thought a lot about food, what I consume, where it comes from, how it got here, how I made it, what I could have done differently and how it makes me feel. I just haven't given the ole' calories in, calories out any weight this week. I've started to care less and less about it really and have relied heavily on how I feel in my own body and I feel pretty good. I feel healthy and not so tortured about my belly. I've gone to the gym, I've gone to yoga, I've had some beers and it's all felt very balanced despite some random bad head space about the differences between "job" and "career".

But that's a whole different story that I just don't want to write about anymore. I spent most of yesterday scribbling vomit about wants and needs, money and art and being responsible for your own happiness. So much spew that has been regurgitated over and over again that it starts to lose meaning. I don't want these ideals to lose meaning, but I feel like they do and people make choices based on what they feel they 'should' do as opposed to what they 'want' to do and THAT is where it all begins, the onslaught of resentment and misery and and and...didn't I say I don't want to write about this anymore? I need to shut up my face. I worry about how things start to lose meaning because they've become fodder for sayings printed on magnets and ads for running shoes. This just leaves me searching for words of higher wealth to explain how I feel.

I've got a restorative yoga class in an hour which will help with the brain babble.