Going to Waist

"Time you enjoyed wasting is not wasted time." -- T.S. Eliot

Much of my daily activity is admittedly extraneous; I assign errands to be completed in routine order, by foot, despite alternative and more efficient approaches readily available.  I use these obligations as an excuse to expend energy and time, even when I have other, legitimate work to pursue.  I can recall being tardy to my final thesis review hearing in college because I necessitated walking from the East Village to the Public Library grounds and back before devoting myself to scholarly preparation.  I always do try to use the time I spend on these mobile missions to accomplish something, and I know I rehearsed and reviewed my presentation as much as I could while weaving in and out of the urban mileposts.  To be honest, even now I am hastily drafting this entry before my pre-meal stroll to the other end of town.  I realize any exercise is counterproductive to my weight gain goals, but I make excuses for it anyhow.  I'll say, "It stimulates my mind, my appetite, my blood; it affords time to read or to embrace emotions through song."  (I can be distracted and enthralled for hours with new material in hand, usually on my iPod but also in the form of printed media, such as a magazine or screenplay.)  My feet are so accustomed to specific routes that I will cover  ground while turning my attention elsewhere.  If the weather is particularly remarkable I will simply power down the streets with my eyes in awe of the sky's mercurial washes.

This weekend I placed special emphasis on establishing a work station that might encourage creative output.  My parents' house is of a New England colonial build and enshrouded for the most part by a melange of shrubs and trees; the one area with a picture window large enough to summon substantial daylight is currently devoted to nurturing my mother's fish and potted garden.  I purchased a sturdy, medium-sized card table at Lowe's on Sunday for my bedroom.  There, I intend to have projects at my disposal, hidden from extrinsic scrutiny.  I can comfortably listen to iTunes or a radio feed while concentrating within the borders of the 3' x 4' platform; should I require more space less inhibition I can relocate to a patch of yard or basement corner, however wet or murky.  The intention is to channel as much of my waking hours to pursuits that benefit my creative portfolio, that are viable now or down the road as art for sale.  Indeed, anything that usurps my time while keeping me in one place (as does this blog) can only contribute to a healthier state of being.  

I have made progress in repossessing recently lost pounds, and I generally feel the restored weight in my stomach and torso (where reserves are most needed to pad vital organs).  It is a challenge to not feel self-conscious when you can sense the food settling inside yourself, when heat reaches your face and your heart's pace hustles to new speeds.  I yearn to be more attractive; I do not feel beautiful with a face so deprived of collagen and fat-fillers that lines and folds made premature manifestation.  It would be easy to say I have thrown away my "best years" by failing to take charge of everything available to a young woman of sufficient means.  I hope to not someday regard this present term with that same acrid ruefulness.