Here I sit, carefully sliding through various combinations of words to paint onto this electronic canvas. How should I frame my yesterday story? How do I take my adventures from action, to memory, to strokes on my keyboard, to your eyes, and then hopefully your hearts? What must I say, or not say to make sure that everyone who happens upon this is sure to come back? How do I find the right combination of reality, and mix it with the perfect splash of creative bullshit, so that your mind doesn't begin to wander to thoughts of what sounds good for lunch? How do I facilitate your escape from the incessant annoyance of that bitch Jennifer, who just wont stop fucking... Are you even going to read this at all? Am I writing all of this to only have it slip away into the abyss of internet bullshit? Will my thoughts, and fears, and ever growing questioning of my own sanity ever even be heard? Should I even post this blog? Should I just take my tired, cold, anxious finger and mash my backspace key down so hard that the fear of never being able to delete another word prevents me from taking this blind dive ever again?
These are they types of thoughts that run through my mind every-time I sit down to write, anything. These are the thoughts that tear at my eyes every-time I decide to record, and then edit, and finally upload, and share a video. These are the thoughts that try to keep me safe. But fuck safe. Safe never brought me anything. Safe never held my hand on a terrifying journey. Safe never pushed me to get better at, anything. Safe never told me to close my eyes and trust my heart. Safe never helped me grow. We don't need safe. We need risky. We need dangerous. We need the unknown.
How can we ever know who we truly are... No. How can we ever know who we can truly become, if we never forget about being safe? How can we ever know what dreams we can turn into realities if we stay content simply letting them continue to exist only in our ever fading imaginations?
As kids the world seams so free. So open to whatever our hearts can dream up. Somewhere along the way we let the magic of our fairy world fade. But the worst part is not that we stop believing in trolls and goblins. And Peter Pan, and pixie dust. No. The worst part is that we stop believing in ourselves.
But what happens when we let ourselves slip back, ever so slightly, into that childish reality? What happens where magic just might be real again? What happens when we decide to take that leap, and hope that Peter Pan motherfucker wasn't actually just as sadistic bitch who wanted to see our pretty little faces splatter down on the cold, hard, unfeeling concrete below? What if the pixie dust actually works? What if we never come down? What if our dreams were right there all along, simply waiting for us to believe in them again?
So here I sit, not deleting these words. And soon you, whoever you may be, will sit and read these words. And my hope is that somehow, even if in just some small way, reading this helps you to write your proverbial blog. To put your cape back on. To close your eyes. To stop being afraid to once again dream your dreamiest dreams. I hope that my journey towards my light, my childish fantasy, through my looming precipice of doubt, and fear, gives you that little push that you just might need.
---- Yesterdays Food ----
So, I was clearly way under my caloric goal yesterday. I didn't do this on purpose, at all. I normally eat a little over 1,600 calories worth of cereal for my nightly Lucky Charms stream, but on Tuesdays I do the challenge stream against my fellow YouTuber The Jack of All Trades. Last night we did the cracker challenge, so instead of eating an entire box of cereal, I just had 6 saltine crackers. So coupling this extreme decrease in caloric obligations, with unintentionally low eating during the rest of the day, equaled a lot of extra cals at the end of the night. I had 2,000 left around midnight, and put a little dent in them, but I just couldn't find anything else that I wanted to eat. So, ya, shit. Low ass calories, it happens.
Yesterdays workout was also, quite, low. I almost didn't even go to the gym because once I had the time, I hardly even had the time. But squeaking SOMETHING in is soooo much better than not even going, for multiple reasons. The most important being motivation. It is so easy to get off track. To let a day off turn into two, into 5, into a couple of weeks, into months, into who the fuck knows.
So even if you aren't going to get a sick ass gain sesh, or an epic calorie burn in, that's ok. Just go so that you feel good about it. Go because you like to do it, and because you realize that sometimes just a taste of delicious is ok. Its not only cake that we have to only moderately indulge in sometimes. It can be the gym as well. Stop looking at workouts as something that can't be trimmed down to still be awesome, and start looking at them as something that can simply, be.
That can mean two solid hours of weight lifting. Or a fucking amazing run through the mountains on your favorite path. Or a billion laps in the pool while you let that cool water wash away all of the days stresses, and fears, and disappointments. But sometimes it might just be 20 minutes of, whatever. 20 minutes of endorphin releasing, body and mind therapy is immeasurably better than that feeling of regret that you are bound to get if you choose not to fit something in.
Sometimes ending the day feeling just a little better about yourself can make all the difference in the world. What that difference is exactly just depends on you. It might be that nudge of motivation that you needed to stick to your weight-loss plan. Or to cook dinner instead of saying fuck it and just ordering pizza. Not that I take any issue with ordering pizza. But if its not planned it, it sure as hell is a great way to fucking destroy your caloric limit.
So anyway, I made it in, briefly. I literally just did one set for legs, and one for back. And neither were spectacular. But I got something in, and instead of typing about how I didn't have time to go to the gym yesterday, I am able to sit here with a smile on my face and tell you that I did what I could. And that alone makes it worthwhile.
Even though I didn't eat all of my calories yesterday, I still got a couple of food pics for you.
So, yesterday I bought a single pack of Chocolate Twinkies. I have been almost doing a little review on them for a while, and when I saw the carefully sealed pack of two lonely chocolate, cream filled masterpieces, I knew that it was meant to be. But then, the wife... Kourtney decided that she needed them more than I possibly could, and against my strong behest, she ate them. Both. So this picture is simply a memorial to what could have been, but sadly, never will be.
And it is with this somber memory that I leave you.
So until next time,
Eat Dirty My Friends