So I’ve had this half-goal for several years to be more conscious in general — of my actions, of my decisions, of my thought processes. That includes my spending, which, even when I’ve kept track of it in the past, has not really been as “conscious” as it’s been in the last month. I’ve assumed that I spend far more than I’m ever conscious of, but sometimes I think I spend far less.
This week, what did I eat? How did I manage to spend only $1.67 on groceries (a grapefruit and some loose-leaf tea, both of which are in my office, untouched because I got too busy at work to break into them)? Work, it’s true, was insane, mostly due to major malfunctions in the classrooms (we lost the ability to project red for a few days — not good for an art department, though one professor just shifted her lectures around to show megaliths this week: “The students just thought they were really mossy, and it was fine”). Being busy (and stressed) sometimes makes me forget about food, but not to the point of missing meals. There was dinner with the lovely Modern Mrs. of Sweet and Saucy on Sunday. A night out with another friend Tuesday. I’m at my parents’ house this weekend — meals provided (we’re eating their leftovers, which are so much nicer than my own!). There were other leftovers for lunches (soups…), apples and Larabars (bought last week) for breakfast. One night I heated up a can of beans and ate it with chips. Another night I had the leftovers of that sorry (but satisfying) combination. This is not pretty. It’s not a habit I really want to get into, but it’s functional and cheap, if not healthy or well-balanced (though don’t corn (even chips) and beans (even canned) complement each other to create a whole protein?? At least there’s that…). Better than ramen, right? I had my first Chipotle meal of the month — and subsequent Chipotle leftovers. It was good, but not as good as I remembered (from way back in December).
Goal for next week: Be more conscious AND eat more vegetables.
Other notes: I was the only person (apart from the artist “host”) who read the book for the book club I was so excited about this week. Which makes me feel dorky. And I didn’t want to bother the other people by talking about this book that they hadn’t read. And I hadn’t even gathered the same meaning from it as the artist. Awkward. Basically I think we project ourselves onto artworks of all types — music, literature, visual art. We take from it what we want, sometimes what we need. I took from it themes of carnality, death, memory, artifact. She thought “betrayal,” which was certainly there, but didn’t really register with me. Fair enough. But it was hard to talk about. I, the one who had read the book, said less than anyone in the group. Later I felt like a jerk for not piping up at least a little more — really, what’s the point of going if I’m going to be so reserved? To take it in, I guess, which I did.