I really need to stop watching romcoms.  Actually I really need to stop watching movies period.  Maybe I should cancel my Netflix subscription.  All I watch is tripe anyway.  Except that doc about the World War II spy called Garbo that I watched earlier today.  That was pretty amazing.

The point is that I watched 3.5 feature-length movies today. And several yesterday as well.  I haven’t accomplished anything, I’m so disoriented I barely know what day it is, and I closed out the marathon with a Korean RomCom.

Ever since the post before last (“______sexuality”) I have been pining.  Just generically, not with any particular object. Er, subject.  Really, anyone could come along and sweep me off my feet at this point.  Provided they meet certain criteria, of course.  “A few smiles, a few compliments of the Navy and he’s a lost man” — to paraphrase Jane Austen.  (sidenote: if anyone ever writes me a note like the one Captain Wentworth leaves for Anne in “Persuasion,” I will probably explode)

So yeah, a movie with a couple of cute, clean-cut Asian dudes and an awesome kiss at the end just kind of exacerbates my symptoms.  Even though she really should have gone with the other guy.  But oh well.  That’s just me.

So yeah, I have spent this entire weekend, essentially, doing nothing but watching so-so movies on Netflix, lying around in my underwear, binging on my favorite unsalted tortilla chips and salsa.  I made cookies but they’re not even that good.  I ate four of them anyway.  In my defense they were hot out of the oven.

 

The problem is, if I cancel my Netflix account, what will I do with my time instead?  Will I suddenly feel compelled to do the things on the nice long list I wrote out for myself this morning?  I sincerely doubt it.  Simply denying myself access to my primary source of escapism will not automatically make me a productive, responsible adult.

 

I am taking the day off from work tomorrow so I can go down to the community college and get my parking pass and my textbook.  With money I don’t have.  But that’s another story.  The main thing is that if I wake with an alarm, leave the house, do some things, then come home, I might be more inclined to take care of some of the things on my list.  Might.
I did stop myself from having another cookie.  I went back there and looked at them, almost reached for one, but talked myself out of it.  I still feel a little gross from having eaten four of them.  It’s what I do, though.  It’s like an automatic thing, I don’t even think about it.  Same with the tortilla chips.  I seriously almost consumed an entire jar of salsa this afternoon.  The routine of it, or something.  I’m not really sure what it is.  The comfort of not having to think about what to do next, maybe.  No choice to be made, just pick up another chip, scoop up some salsa, put in mouth, chew, swallow.  Repeat.  That could have something to do with it.  I suppose it’s most likely part of my dissociative tendency.  If I were present while I ate those chips, I would have focused more on the flavors, the textures in each bite, maybe taken it slower, maybe I would have started feeling full sooner.

 

Tonight I will brush my teeth.  I didn’t last night.  Didn’t feel like it.  I also need to put the sheets back on the bed.   They are in the dryer.  le sigh.

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