When There's Feast, There's Fast
It was New Year’s Eve yesterday. It went as expected, which is oddly reassuring given our 3-year old was running around like crazy – like on any other day recently. A dinner-playdate, with just a few sips of whiskey and, arguably, far too much food went smoothly. Firework extravaganza at midnight, typical for the area, resembled active war zone for a few hours too many, guaranteeing total disaster of whatever was left of local ecosystem’s mental health.
Nothing new.
Morning was a bit unorthodox though. No hangover, not anymore. Smart people in their forties don’t have these. More like a general sense of overwhelm and overload. Yes, it’s a New Year. New opportunities (not really, nothing has changed in one day). New habits (ha, let’s see about this one in two weeks). New conclusions (that aren’t really new), including one that this time it is actually almost guaranteed to go downhill. The second part of life, cemented and anchored, here to stay. Then, new old memories, once forgotten, now rediscovered for whatever reason. New regrets. New commitments and new decisions to drop commitments.
The usual New Year’s mental chaos with a hint of melancholy.
And on top of that, a layer of zucchini cake, pasta salad, beans with tomatoes, and probably a dozen more lies along the lines of “I’ll just try this one.” All soaked in an exotic mixture of four vastly different brands of whiskey. Well, actually three brands of it and one serious sip of bourbon from some forgotten by gods republican hellhole.
And this, just this, was too much.
Today couldn’t simply start the same way as usual then. Breakfast, lunch – why, what for? Just because it’s the normal way? Because that’s what adults do, eat breakfast when it’s breakfast time? Well, yesterday was out of ordinary, to the point of me experiencing primal fears before stepping on the bathroom scale. As it turned out, rightly so, but it’s another thing.
It’s just not natural to do things the same way again, when the day before was so vastly different from the normal one (assuming it exists at all). When there’s feast, there’s fast – or, at the very least, should be. That’s exactly what I did – nothing at all.
No breakfast, just black coffee.
No lunch, just rooibos tea.
Light dinner after weirdly satisfying walk in freezing rain gracefully reinforced by stormy wind? Well, yes please. Light one, a leftover from yesterday, just a cup (or two, if we’re completely honest) of pasta salad full of hastily chopped vegetables.
No LinkedIn, finally with no remorses! I hate that thing anyway.
No serious writing, just this post here.
No TV. No radio. No news.
Also: not a thought about new opportunities, habits, conclusions, memories, regrets, and commitments. I might’ve jumped on the stationary bike for some deeply satisfying minutes, but that’s different. Addictions are not relevant.
Fast for the midship then – and fast for the bow. One gets narrower, the other less cluttered.
What a glorious day.
Happy New Year!