Focused

Keeping busy and keeping focused are now my two hobbies. It’s been a week and I feel a bit better since these two companions have kept me at ease, at least the past couple of days. I am focused on creating a healthy and tasty diet and am more focused on what I eat, writing down each portion and being conscious of how I feel before, during and after a meal. It is hard work, but it keeps my mind off of other things and in tune with the future. I shared my new plan with Wayne and Renee and they gushed with enthusiasm first telling me how great I was anyway and then saying how proud of me they were. This will help me stick to it since they believe in me.

I am focused on exercising and staying in motion, keeping busy riding my bike in the morning (takes the place of crying) and working out at the gym after work (tired muscles make everything sort of Zen). I am adopting a new habit of finding fun ways to exercise like riding my bike to Renee’s or downtown to have lunch; going to more of the classes offered at my gym – mainly yoga and body sculpt; riding my bike or walking before work since it feels fresh and crisp and wasn’t something I could do when I wasn’t alone. I even danced around the house yesterday to my teenage favorites creating sort of an 80s new wave/punk aerobics routine. Got to be careful with the ankle though.

I am focused on creating a couple knitted gifts. I am not doing Christmas gifts this year since money is tight all over and I only can knit so much. Instead I am working on a piece for the family gift exchange and a couple overdue birthday gifts. It keeps my hands busy as I watch TV. The TV and Netflix helps me think about something other than my situation so I can only watch sci-fi, comedies (non romantic), adventures, documentaries, crime biographies and cooking shows.

I am focused on finishing Twilight. I am struggling and feel very left out since it seems to be like crack for everyone else who reads it. Edward, the main character, is romance times a thousand and that is a bit hard to handle, but I am going to muddle through, especially since there is supposed to be a big payoff in the end. It keeps me busy as I dive into this green world of vampires, average girls and high school. Honestly, if this was around when I was 16, I would have been all over it since I would have loved a hot young vampire as a boyfriend.

I think that I will go to the Artfest in Safety Harbor this weekend by myself to get back into that mode and maybe spend Saturday downtown getting to know my surroundings again and getting a good ride and walk in. I need to have some sort of schedule or I may become anxious about these changes. I may even cut my hair to further accentuate the change in me.

And all of this seems to be working well. I ignore the love songs, the news of impending doom and the empty words in my head putting me down. Instead I stay focused and ready and upbeat. That in itself is a pretty big job, but someone has to do it.

He Needs No Reservations – Day 3

Some say that when we dream our true natures make themselves known. We release our contemptuous hatred, our deep-hearted anger and our fawning desires. If this is true, then Anthony Bourdain better watch out.

I recently came back to the 21st century and got cable. Last night I wretched through most of what was on – what was I thinking? – and came across a marathon of “No Reservations”. This is one of my favorite shows, with one of my most lustful crushes, Mr. Bourdain. His snarky attitude and his rough-around-the-edges persona entice me to be a voyeur into his cluster-fucked world of food, opinion, mood and indiscretion.

But this was not the first time my path has crossed with the ex-junkie, food brat. I came across him long ago through a lonely late-night perusal of the Food Network. His brash attitude and sense of wit was such a nice escape from Rachel “EVOO” Ray’s giddiness and Bobby “I am all that” Flay’s frat boy grillin’. He seemed ill-suited for this network, but I couldn’t not look. Like a carousel show in an Amsterdam Night Club, he was so pornographic that I had to stare.

When cable became too much to afford, I dropped out of the TV world and instead concentrated on books reading “A Cook’s Tour” and “Kitchen Confidential”. I proclaimed to all my married friends that I had set my sights on Mr. Bourdain as my new husband. Some agreed we’d be a good match, some took things too seriously saying “How would you meet him? Isn’t he already married?”, and still the more sensible agreed he may be a good catch, but that he smoked too much for my liking.

I continued on with my desires only phased by other imaginary boyfriends who drifted in and out of my orgasms. When “No Reservations” came on the air, I begged my ex to tape them for me.

We parted on good terms and he continued to bestow the riches of cable upon me in the form of “Project Runway” First Season, “Blow Out”, “Myth Busters” and any documentary about Andy Warhol, NYC or anything related to Charlie Manson. It was a minor payback to the hellish year I spent recording “Eastenders” for him. He also recorded “No Reservations”. I longed each week for Tony and to travel to the places he visited, as long as I could be with him (or without).

Then I was cut off cold turkey right about the time Tony and crew got stuck in Beirut. My ex had got a girlfriend and apparently he couldn’t record cable for me anymore. So there I was without my beloved. Unyielding to this change, I begged and pleaded with anyone who had cable to record the shows for me, especially Beirut and the American Northwest. I was dying to see what Tony saw in Portland and could only quench my thirst for him through his like or dislike of the region. (I knew he would like it – Portland is awesome.)

Nothing came of it. I was cut off. This wouldn’t be the first time I was forgotten by a man with regrets to soothe my broken heart. My ex and Tony had abandoned me. There was nothing else I could do.

Now that I have my own access to cable, I have Mr. Bourdain as a choice of my TiVo, after Oprah (which I know if Tony read this he would cringe at this moment.) So last night I watched his visit to Jamaica (with Renee in mind) and Greece (with Effie in mind.) See this voyeuristic indulgence wasn’t just about him, but about getting to know more about my friends. Falling asleep, after fighting the ravages of a flying cockroach, I dared to dream about the old man.

In the dream, he was brash like his persona showcases on the screen, but he was also gentle kissing my neck and being romantic. It wasn’t a sexual dream, really, but man I just love him.

So today, I give thanks for dreams and the great feelings you get from them and for Anthony Bourdain, for making a guest appearance in mine last night. I wander what my subconscious will have in store for me this evening. Oh to dream.