Do you ever have a string of good days, only to expect, maybe even perversely welcome, a mess of bad? There is a dismal cloud floating on the edge of your vision, slightly out of focus but obvious enough to catch your attention. It’s not a question of whether something’s floating your way, it’s a question of when it will arrive, and within that waiting period lies a taut length of delicious expectation.
When it hits, you notice a complete lack of cosmic reciprocity–the pleasant will always precede the unpleasant, but there are no guarantees of the opposite, no parity in shittiness, no assurance you’re leaving the woods soon. It just seems unfair, you know? I’m going to stomp my feet in protest.
The trailer does it serious disservice. The movie is actually fifty kinds of awesome, one of the most entertaining flicks I’ve seen all year. You go dig a hole and stick your head in it, George Lucas, you stick your head in it and never come out again.
A cheesesteak usually holds little symbolic value, never mind nutritional value, but the one I consumed today stood for a great many things. Nestled between the layers of meat and cheese was a promise revisited–a toast to better health, an acknowledgment of discipline needed, and a kind of personal Mardi Gras.
You see, the sugar-free routine is back. Same guidelines–no refined sugar, corn syrup, or anything that passes through a nozzle–and a slightly longer time frame, beginning October 01 and ending November 22. It may seem as if I’m fueled by cleverly timed ascetism, with Halloween right around the corner, but honestly? It feels good. The timing is entirely arbitrary.
There are also the instances when you wonder, “Why am I even doing this? Maybe I should stop right now.” I’d like to think conquering these moments fosters personal growth of some sort, just like I want to believe you actually care. The first time I did this, the novelty subjected you to discussion after discussion about sugar. We’ll have none of that in the coming weeks. This is it. An inaugural cheesesteak, followed by the short trudge into winter.