Category Archives: grey matter

What’s next?

I’m a week out of the Ultimate Reset. I’ve been figuring it out on my own, and it’s kind of challenging. Time seems to not be on my side, but I will prevail.

I hate planning. I fight it. Waah.

I’ve been getting up around 9 am most days, which is rough later at work, but that’s when my body wants to be up.

These are the tasks that I have designated as non-negotiable:

Tuesday – Saturday.

I need to be at work by 4 pm. I leave my house no later than 2:45 pm because of the awesomeness that is Long Island traffic. I get home from work around 1:30 am most days. I’m usually up until @ 3 am, after I walk my dog, and feed him and the cat.

This gives me 9 am – 2:45 pm, 5.75 hours.

I also prioritize two things: exercising and coaching. I need at least an hour for exercise, depending on what I’m doing that day, and with washing and dressing, let’s call it 2 hours. I need at least an hour a day for coaching on work days. Three hours down.

I have 2.75 hours remaining. I haven’t walked the dog yet, that’s about 15 minutes.

I need to eat, yo. Breakfast I rock Shakeology mixed with various goodness most days, so it’s quick, but I also get lunch and dinner together. I’ll address prepping food in a moment. Let’s subtract another 30 minutes.

I have 2 hours left uncommitted.

I am determined to better myself, and I miss reading, so 30 minutes to reading. I haven’t mentioned a single errand yet. No laundry drop off/pick up, no post office, no last minute to the grocery store or Target. No day dreaming. No unexpected phone calls from my father busting my chops about not calling enough.

I can take that remaining 90 minutes as buffer.

Sunday and Monday.

My “weekend”. I still need to sleep, and I average 6-7 hours. Exercise for about an hour, wash and such, total 2 hours. Read 30 minutes. Coach work at least 3 hours each day, though I really want to up that. These are the days I get groceries, run errands that don’t pop up during the week, and potentially have some leisure time.

If I go to the supermarket and the smaller, healthier store, that’s at least 2 hours. I tend to split it between the 2 days, but I might be better off hitting up both the same day. Then I’ll need to cook all this shit. I used to cook as much as possible for the entire week when I was eating more meat, but I’m not eating any right now, and veggies don’t hold up as well as meat over a few days. I think if I focus on soups and raw dishes I can stretch it out, but I’ll need to still do it twice a week. I can take some of that buffer time one of those days for cooking. Ok, if I wake around 9 am on Sunday, that’s almost 10 hours taken: exercise and washing 2, reading :30, coach 3, groceries 2, cooking 2. Working out and groceries need to happen early in the day or else they won’t happen. The benefit to doing as much as possible on one of those days is that I will have more time on the other day. If I get groceries and cook, I don’t need to do that twice, so that’s 4 hours free. I’ve always been less than stellar about sticking to a plan, it’s time I change that.


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Reset. Two Weeks Down. Restore.

Today is day 15. The first day of the third week. I do feel different. Inside. I feel quieter, more focused, less foggy.

I recalled an interesting dream from Tuesday morning. I woke up and immediately tried to recall it so I’d remember later. I’m a rather vivd dreamer, but I hadn’t recalled a dream in a few days.

I often mix locations and people together that don’t actually go together, and this was no different.

It was my apartment building from childhood. Huge lobby with one wide, shallow staircase, and two additional to the sides. There was some kind of government office in the basement with all sorts of neat military and historical memorabilia. To the left was a staircase that climbed many floors, made of stone, and there were books and water pitchers on each landing. The top floor was an intimate sort of bar with small tables and a large bar off to one corner with delicious liquor. The barteneders sounded Russian or Skandinavian and were very friendly.

With that, I’m off to my busy Thursday.

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Reset. Days 10 through 12. Reassess.

Today is my one year not smoking anniversary. There’s more to it, but that’s the bottom line. I’m proud of myself.

The weekend was good. I’ve found myself reflecting, assessing, reassessing. I drove in silence all week until yesterday, when I chose to play some favorite tunes while I ran errands (Q-Tip). I cleaned the heck out of my bathroom Sunday, at least 3 hours, in silence. Usually I listen to music or having something playing on my iPad, but I felt like it was distracting me from my thoughts. I was cleaning, so I just cleaned. And thought. And when I was driving, I drove. And thought. Even when I was cooking in the morning, I just cooked. And thought. It didn’t feel heavy or burdensome. I just thought. I also haven’t recalled my dreams as much this week. I didn’t realize that. Hmm, that might be interesting.

I had some mental food cravings here and there. I need to time my meals better, I think I’m waiting too long between meals. I wanted a glass of wine, I had herbal tea instead. I’m not going to pretend that my increased productivity is not due in some part to my non-drinking these 3 weeks. So there’s that. I think I’m going to have a good week. I just have a feeling.

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Fake it til you make it?

I will say that I have said this many times. I read a quote that caused me to rethink it. It went something like, “I was really good at faking that I wanted to do things.” I don’t remember where I saw that, but it occurred to me that we should really do or not do.

When eating, eat.

I’m no zen priest, but that feels more natural than, “When eating, pretend to eat until you eat.” I can apply that to literally eating, but also exercising, and being true to myself. Bullshitting around like I’m doing something is silly. If I’m not going to do it, then why not just not do it? Then, when I do get around to it, it’ll be valuable to me.

I’m not going to tell anyone to fake it. I’m going to tell them to do it.

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