revjim.net

I've been tearing my life apart lately: breaking off each desire, addiction, relationship, lust, goal, need and passion like irregularly shapedLego blocks; analyzing each of them; looking for other places they might fit; putting some aside for a while to see how well I function withoutthem repainting others; cutting some into even tinier pieces. Then I put it back together: building new things, changing the shape of old things; throwing some things out entirely. I do this with the same caution I'd have forLego blocks knowing that, if I don't like what I've built, I can always tear it down and try again.

Of course, I have Jess: my cornerstone; unwavering and eternal. She offers so many possibilities. Her shape doesn't dictate who I am or how my life is fashioned, she only enhances the structure; makes more beautiful and more stable than anything built without her. There are other blocks, too, that are certain: without some blocks, it would be impossible to call the final structure "me"; some are tootightly bound to pry apart; some I just can't seem to build without.

I know that, ultimately, it's something I have to do alone. But company is nice from time to time: someone to "ooh" and "ahhh" at the beautiful but way too fragile tower; someone to laugh when I fashion a pair of breasts from the blocks and stuff them under my shirt; someone to help put the last block on the top when we see just how high we can stack them; someone to help me figure out which pieces just won't budge no matter how hard I smash them against the kitchen floor. These things make the building easier: they make the failures more acceptable; they make the triumphs more triumphant; they make starting over less disappointing; they make the time pass more quickly; they offer breaks in between builds.

I've found myself in bed before 9pm on more than one occasion these past few weeks; unhappy with my progress, and too frustrated to try again, yet without a means of distraction in order to keep me from fidgeting with the blocks. Sleeping, sometimes, is the only safe way to make everything shut up and keep my hands off of things so that I can start again fresh the next day.

If it's enthralling enough, television is a decent distraction as well. I watched Battlestar Galactica for the first time yesterday; the pilot. Wow! This show is amazing. I know, I know; a lot of you have been saying that for a while now and I haven't been listening to you. But I'm listening now. I'll be watching another episode every day I have a chance from now until whenever I run out. Maybe even two on the weekends.

I've lost 3 pounds so far this week. I'm constantly hungry, and yet mostly unwilling to eat. I'm afraid that even the smallest bit of something that comforting will send me into a binge. I can't eat just one chocolate from the bag; I eat them all. Then I have to apologize to Jess for eating all her candy. But I am eating breakfast now, which is a habit I should have picked up a long time ago.

I'm having coffee and dinner with Jess and a few friends tonight. I need this more than I'm willing to admit: an escape; a distraction. Either tonight, tomorrow morning, or Saturday night — depending on how the evening works out — I'll be heading out for some night photography. It'll be cold and dark, with way too much coffee, and lots of time to think, maybe even talk if I'm not alone: another escape. Then, next week, West Texas: a great expanse of everything and nothing all at once.