CLXVII. Bobbing around -

I’m bobbing around the truth and I’m bobbing around while living truly.

I’m bobbing around the fact that what once were misshapen Bobby pins, stretched out in an attempt to tame my thick hair, strewn about bathroom floor tiles, are now replaced by new-as-can be Bobby pins. These Bobby pins slide off of thin strands of straight hair. These Bobby pins are not survivors despite having tried in earnest to hold on for dear life.

Brown Bobby pins now replace the black ones. My hair is growing out in that same dusky brown that gets lighter in the sun from when I was a baby and didn’t know about styling products and other hair products with chemical altering properties that may have contributed to making my hair appear darker.

I never skipped, but I have to increase.

Dear me,
It’s like agreeing to settle. It’s like agreeing to stay average, to just barely pass. So what makes you tick? Excelling, that’s what. Going above and beyond is what makes me tick. So increase then, and think of it as a cap in your feather. A dear friend for whom I am grateful for, articulated that increasing was deserving of a pat on the back. Why? Because you’re that much closer to your goal.

The point isn’t to compensate for eating by partaking in any mobile activity. No, the point is to eat so as to refuel for all the ways that life is meant to be - enjoying and pursuing non-sedentary activity. Because let’s be honest: spicy and palette-tickling food burns calories, delicious caffeinated coffee makes your heart work, burning calories, and that gut-provoking laughter burns calories. Living burns calories and if I cannot burn calories, than I’m not alive.
The caveat or the solution, rather, is to eat and eat and consume and consume.
That may sound gluttonous but this is a case of semantics. Logically, one could substitute the verbs eat and consume with live. Doesn’t that sound motivating? The solution to living is to live. It’s that simple. It’s truly that simple.

I’m not idiotic enough to believe that life is simple, because it’s not. But in order for complexity to surface, life must be present in the first place.
When that happens, 20 or 30 pounds down the line, complexities will arise, but I can’t think about that now. I need to think about life. I need to think about living. I need to think about living in order for me to not have to think about living. Life should just be. It should be a given.

Perhaps that explains why I believe meditation is so ridiculous a pursuit. We’re not naturally composed to concentrate on breathing. We’re just supposed to breathe. Our body knows to breathe. My body, ravaged by an internal storm and external feud, knows to breathe.

I don’t find death to be natural, especially when people want for it, ask for it, and suggest it.
I never liked when kids picked flowers growing from the ground or causally brushed against fragile branches with leaves in order to display some sort of superiority in strength. I
never cared for those people who spot an ant trekking across the pavement and then proceed to step on it. I find those acts vile.

Life is meant to be lived, and there is no bobbing around that fact.