All right...proof that I wind up at the WalMart McD’s way too often...I headed out for the library, where I intended to sit and pretend I was working while I was actually just typing nonsensical crap (aka blogging), and found myself turning at the street which would divert me from heading to the library and would deliver me to the parking lot of the local WalMart.

I drove there on autopilot.

But no, I did not go in and eat at McDonald’s. I did not go in and get a soft drink to refill 52 times. I did, however, park long enough to drop a quarter into the soda vending machine, because evidently the mere sight of WalMart makes me thirsty. One can of Sam’s Choice Diet Cola, and I was back in the car, pointed in the right direction.

And I am now at the library, fully engaged not working. Instead I am sitting here, typing away about how I went and bought myself a cheap assed can of knock-off Coke, because I frankly cannot get my brain to engage and write anything work-worthy.

I have not written anything work-worthy in over a month, I think. I have been so focused on reading the DMV motorcycle handbook and reading books about motorcycles, and studying safety tips, and looking at bikes online and surfing through forums about biking online that I simply did not even think about work.

At least now I’m thinking about it. I’m not doing it, but I’m thinking about it. I’m also thinking about trolling the book shelves here for stuff on motorcycling that I may have overlooked before. I’m eyeing a magazine on the rack to my immediate right. Cycle World. I’m pondering how long it will be before I’m comfortable enough to venture off of the neighborhood side streets and into real traffic, and then how long it will be before I’m ready to ride the bike over here instead of my spiffy topless car.

Oh no, I will not forget about my spiffy topless car. I love my spiffy topless car.

And yes, the jacket is multicolored gaudy, but He-Who-Stopped-Blogging-Because-He’s-Paranoid (Murf) is right, I am a gaudy kind of person. I love bright colors and I own at least 10 tie-dyed t-shirts. I would paint my car a vivid metallic purple if I thought it would look marginally good and it it wouldn’t cost a small fortune. And yeah, I really did want to dress a fledgling rock band in purple and gold satin shirts. When I was 12. I still love purple and gold, and if I found the right thing, I’d still wear it.

Oddly enough, I’d drive the bright shiny car and I’d wear all the bright shiny things and then think “Stop looking at me! Why are you people looking at me?!?”

I think I am going to hang onto that gaudy motorcycle jacket—last night I was going to stick it back on eBay and try to get back what I paid for it (which, thankfully, wasn’t much)--but now I think I’m going to keep it. If I lose the amount of weight I want to, it might fit. It might not, to be honest, because even at my fittest I’m not a twig, but it might. And I loves it, I do.

That jacket just might get me back on track diet-wise, and might get me to the gym more often than I’ve been lately (-sigh- excuses: between a very sore back and my pre-occupied mind, I have not been lately. Yes, those are excuses and not valid reasons.) And oh! Once I’m brave enough, I can ride my bike to the gym!

Yep. One track, one track, one track...

No comments: