The Visible Woman...November 14, 2003

I was reading an old issue of The New Yorker in the john the other day. [Ed. note: John reading rarely makes the reading section. Why is that?] There was an article about Alcoholics Anonymous. The only thing that has stuck with me over the years about AA is something about admiting that you are powerless over alcohol. That and something about denial. I've never been to a meeting, I don't think. But, yes, I have my addictions.

Yeah...I'm powerless over journaling. In the past, with blank books and a word processor screen,I have had a block. Or, more to the point, I could stop. But here...I'm compelled. I can't stop.

The whole thing depressed me this morning. I wanted to do this other project. I have visions of projects. This one I wanted to do is very elaborate and useless but lots of fun. Also tedious. And I would also have to use a skill I'd mastered and forgotten with Fireworks. But first, I always have to do the journal. I don't know why.

Finally I just took the time to figure out the Fireworks thing Once I'd done a sample, though, I lost interest in the project. Maybe I do this journal because completing each day has gotten easy and routine if time-consuming. Completing other projects is more problematic.

Nevertheless the whole thing depresses me. I feel addicted to things that I don't really care that much about. If that makes sense and, of course, it doesn't. Maybe I do care about thinking out a journal, typing and posting it on the WEB.

And speaking of addictions. Our Capresso died. Again. It ran loyally producing hundreds of cups for over a year since its last repair, but then it died last weekend. We are going to ship it in for repairs. But. We have to wait for a mailing label. And then ship it in. And wait. Today I just thought I'd skip java.

But I'm addicted to caffeine. To no one's surprise.

I am also addicted to exercise now. I have trouble going a day without it. That's what some would call a positive addiction, I guess, and I wouldn't argue. I have invested a huge amount of time in it but surely the payback in energy and almost never feeling sick (except when I forget to ingest caffeine) more than justifies it.

The thing about addictions is that they can get in the way of doing other things. Squeeze things out. People with addictions to alcohol and drugs suffer physical declines, of course, but getting and consuming takes their time and effort, too.

[Ed. note: The author, in spite of the tell all nature of the food diary below believes that she has a less than addictive relationship with alcohol and food. Being addicted to food is problematic anyway since, of course, you have to have it. Of course...there is cheese. Ahem.]

on reflection "All sins tend to be addictive, and the terminal point of addiction is what is called damnation." W.H. Auden	I am powerless This is an addiction. I admit it. And there are others. I was reading an old issue of The New Yorker in the john the other day. [Ed. note: John reading rarely makes the reading section. Why is that?] There was an article about Alcoholics Anonymous. The only thing that has stuck with me over the years about AA is something about admiting that you are powerless over alcohol. That and something about denial. I've never been to a meeting, I don't think. But, yes, I have my addictions. Yeah...I'm powerless over journaling. In the past, with blank books and a word processor screen,I have had a block. Or, more to the point, I could stop. But here...I'm compelled. I can't stop. The whole thing depressed me this morning. I wanted to do this other project. I have visions of projects. This one I wanted to do is very elaborate and useless but lots of fun. Also tedious. And I would also have to use a skill I'd mastered and forgotten with Fireworks. But first, I always have to do the journal. I don't know why. Finally I just took the time to figure out the Fireworks thing Once I'd done a sample, though, I lost interest in the project. Maybe I do this journal because completing each day has gotten easy and routine if time-consuming. Completing other projects is more problematic. Nevertheless the whole thing depresses me. I feel addicted to things that I don't really care that much about. If that makes sense and, of course, it doesn't. Maybe I do care about thinking out a journal, typing and posting it on the WEB. And speaking of addictions. Our Capresso died. Again. It ran loyally producing hundreds of cups for over a year since its last repair, but then it died last weekend. We are going to ship it in for repairs. But. We have to wait for a mailing label. And then ship it in. And wait. Today I just thought I'd skip java. But I'm addicted to caffeine. To no one's surprise. I am also addicted to exercise now. I have trouble going a day without it. That's what some would call a positive addiction, I guess, and I wouldn't argue. I have invested a huge amount of time in it but surely the payback in energy and almost never feeling sick (except when I forget to ingest caffeine) more than justifies it. The thing about addictions is that they can get in the way of doing other things. Squeeze things out. People with addictions to alcohol and drugs suffer physical declines, of course, but getting and consuming takes their time and effort, too. [Ed. note: The author, in spite of the tell all nature of the food diary below believes that she has a less than addictive relationship with alcohol and food. Being addicted to food is problematic anyway since, of course, you have to have it. Of course...there is cheese. Ahem.]
JUST TYPING Addiction. Many forms. If you must. You must. Cold turkey. Withdrawal. Clean and sober. Come out the other side.
		Food Diary. *breakfast* banana and a slice of provolone cheese (before workout) and bowl of Total cornflakes with 2% milk after *lunch* nachos with mozzarella cheese, green onions and a few jalapenos *snacks* slice of provolone and small slice of hard salami (late night) *dinner* spinach salad with almonds and dried cherries and tomato and green onions and mozzarella and Marie's Bleu Cheese viniagrette bowl of tortilla soup with mozzarella couple of crackers 1/2 bottle Shiraz Cab I think I had a couple of slices of American cheese yesterday that I didn't write down. And I said I didn't snack. No one can say I don't get calcium, though.And fat.
		Time flies.... Was up at 6:30, carrying a bag of recycling to the curb just ahead of the truck picking it up. Should have had more. Got involved with the computer...just updating the journal, reading e-mail, seeing how my junk filter was working. A guy rang the bell at 8am to say he was doing the survey and elevations for our remodel. I wonder if the people down the street had to have one? I finally got to the gym at 9 o'clock . Felt dissatisfied and rushed during my workout even though I don't have a single thing I have to do the rest of the day. At home, I took the time to figure out the Fireworks stuff because I just couldn't leave it alone. Then I decided to ignore the computer and clean up my office. But I couldn't do it. No, I couldn't. Then I suddenly felt fuzzy and had an almost headache and I spent a couple of hours reading papers and watching old, bad movies while consuming a bit or reheated java. Then I was back to my desk to work on something FFP wanted me to do. Then I made some backups while working on the piles of notes and mess. Who knew that I couldn't get my office clean if I retired? FFP went out several times. At the end of the day he went to the video store and got Gangs of New York and we watched that and Third Watch. I'm getting tired of that show, though. A couple of the characters are getting tiresome. A lot of them, in fact. And what...so much violence in this two pieces. At 10PM I decided to take a shower. Yeah...sloth. Caffeineless sloth ate my day. I did some work at the computer, read some more newspapers and watched mindless TV out of one eye.

		Reading. Franklin and Winston: An Intimate Portrait of an Epic Friendship by Jon Meacham. Read this one on the bike. I read a bunch of today's newspapers and old ones, too. I learned that the new Russell Crowe movie might be pretty good and that the theater where I saw Urinetown is closing and becoming an office building. I absorbed more war and business execs behaving badly. I was advised in a travel section to watch out for falling coconuts on a desserted tropical beach. And I read this quote for The Times about the new movie about Slvia Plath. "There is a big problem wiht making a movie about Sylvia Plath: it has to end with the main character sticking her head in the oven." I read about the opening of the new Nasher sculpture center in Dallas. (These last two in an almost month-old paper.) Why do I read this stuff?
		nada...I think some people may think that having this section about not writing while typing a journal may be me reaching out to my three or four readers, waiting to be told "but you are a writer." At least, that's what I would think. It isn't true, though. I feel if real writing ever appears here and it certainly may that it will just happen and my desires and outside opinions won't really matter. Real writing, whatever that may be, is beyond identification and opinion in spite of the volumes of opinion it elicits. That's art. Criticism is an art, too, but art breathes free of opinion. And maybe it is art if it succeeds simply in making external something truly felt. If it moves someone else, that is interesting but does it elevate the act?
		Exercise forty-five minutes on the recumbent bicycle abs and stretches
	. .	Mood swung to anxious last night. Not sure why. Persisted this morning but then drifted away.
	It's a Tangled Web we weave...these days of our lives.	One year ago "even brought out a plate of goodies with 'Congratulations on your Retirement.' No kidding. Free." Two years ago "So she hasn't figured out that I have a journal there and that I update it every day and that I tell the world she could never shuffle cards."