Who needs a crystal ball when you have a pocket full of rear view mirrors?

Here we go again...I haven't had a cigarette in roughly 6 hours (a lifetime as far as I'm concerned), my stomach is confused by the new influx of produce and grains, and later this week I will be crawling back to my old gym. I have been down this road before, in fact there were two times in oregon where I lost as much as 80 pounds, the problem always seems to return to my old ethos of "living each day like it is my last." I guess it sounds nihilistically romantic when you state it boldy, but I have come to realize that living each day like that becomes confusing when you wake up ten years later and are still alive. Somewhere along my lifeline I started to truly loath myself and this in turn led to one poor decision followed by another, blah blah blah, we all have our sad stories I guess...but then again this is my fuckin blog so it would seem the fixation would be upon mine. However it is a beautiful day and I have to write an 8 page feminism midterm in the next couple hours so I really don't want to delve into the 'hows' or 'whys.'

Really I just wanted to denote that for the first time in a long sequence of semi-successful 'health' stints I kind of want to do it for myself. I used to do it because I thought being skinny would somehow make me less weird around women, bolster my confidence, or appease my concerned friends. But as I was laying in bed at 6am this morning (enjoying another drunken insomnia stint) I realized that this is fuckin it...this is life...it's happening right the fuck now and spending all your days either looking back fondly on the days of happiness passed or telling yourself how good life is going to be on some yet to be un-named day is dangerous. They are dangerous because they are a dillusioned way to 'daydream' and become an insular bubble from the 'now.'

I was having a conversation last night about myself (recurring theme in my narcissistic life) and I realized how utterly bored I have become of myself since moving to Boise. Don't get me wrong, I am really proud of how optimistic I have become on a social-sociological-philosophical level but the core me...the me stripped of his vocabulary, his band, his critical analysis, his jokes, his drugs...that guy that is left. I really am not sure who he is anymore. I know he's there, he is the one always whispering in the background to stick to the morality that was instilled in me as a child, he is the one that talked me back into school, he is the one that says to go home alone at last call, he is the one that to this day reaffirms my mantra of treating others the way I wish to be treated. I want to know what would happen if I strip away my layers and let this guy come out to play and part of this is getting my body healthy again because I don't think this fat, smoky, shaky, semi-addicted shell is what he deserves to be birthed in...

I am terrified of change and I haven't the slightest clue where I will be in a year. I don't know if I want to pursue a doctorate, a band, a lover, a job, or anything else. Those of you who know me well; know that I am terrible with money, so it has a fairly low amount of leverage over my life decisions but now thanks to BSU I have accumulated more debt than previously thought possible. In other words I need a plan pretty soon to continue living in the now and who know what that will be? I honestly have no idea if I will be happier in an ivy league school or working as a teen counselor...all I do know is that this last year my walls have started to crumble and for the first time in a long time, I like it.