This blogging thing is tough. You actually have to something to talk about. While I love the politics and have a whole bunch of rants in me, when it comes right down to it I’d never be able to keep up with the output of an Atrios, Digby or any of the other fine entries down the left side of this page. It’s just not going to happen. I can’t be original in that space.
My dear friend Jeff Nucera — who ought to blog every day as far as I’m concerned — is clearly busy doing other things, but he’s hit on the trip blog as a way to whet our appetite for all things Uhjeff. They’re freaking hysterical. See this one, and this one and this one. Go read them and then come back. I’ll wait.
Welcome back, funny stuff, right?
In a weird way it’s sort of inspired me to take this blog in a whole different direction. But I couldn’t learn Hebrew or Arabic fast enough to go right-to-left and vertical writing only looks good when it’s kanji written in calligraphy. So I decided to change the focus of the blog. Now you’ll need glasses to read it.
OK, not that either.
What I’m going to do is write about myself (possibly my least favorite subject). But I’m going to write about something very specific (mostly). My own journey, if you will.
In just over a week, my wonderful wife and I are going back on a liquid diet through a local hospital. I weigh over 400 pounds (as far as I know, typical scales not going that high and all). We did it 5 years ago, and it worked. Except I was looking for a magic bullet, and when it was hard I gave up.
Not gonna happen this time. And talking about it in this blog is part of the plan this time. See, I don’t process stuff too well unless I write it down. I think it’s because my reasonably slow seek-and-ye-shall-find typing makes me slow down.
The reality is I’ll write about more than how I’m doing on the liquid diet, because food touches the way I live a lot of different ways. But I’ve got to change some of them. And I’m going to. This time it’s different. This time I’m sick of how I am, not just sick of other people being sick of how I am. Couldn’t give a shit what anyone else thinks — hell, anyone who changes their opinion of me because I’m doing this is earning my contempt. Here’s a bit of truth: I want Carla to be successful at this because I know it’ll make her happy, and if I can be encouraging in any way I’ll do it. But I’m doing this whether she makes it or not. (I’m pretty damned sure she will). I just can’t be this way anymore.
I’m tired of being tired. Of it being hard to get out of a chair. Or off a toilet. I’m tired of looking at a flight of stairs as a challenge. Of thinking it’s a big deal to walk half a mile at a clip (a mile? I can do it now — if I rest. To do it without resting is beyond my comprehension right now). I’d like to be able to wear a fucking t-shirt that someone gives away. Not look for a chair without arms when I walk into a room. I’m sick of all of it. Food tastes good, but it doesn’t taste that good. It’ll still be good when my head and body have adjusted to the right portions and I’m able to get decent exercise.
I think we decided to do this a month or so ago. Carla’s heading out of town for a week, and that’s been on the calendar a while so we timed it to start July 4. I’m looking forward to it.
I don’t know that anyone but Carla is reading this blog. I’m going to miss her like crazy this week. And I’m so looking forward to starting the journey with her.
See you in the funny papers.
