A Tale of Two Tangled

A week ago I made a list of things that I wanted to accomplish while riding the bus to Prague.  I wanted to find a good language institute that offered an intensive Czech course in a short period of time.  I had my mind set on finding a place to live for the next month that would taylor to my needs as a student and as as someone ready to be let loose in the city before locked up in endless fields and horizons.  I also wanted to kick off my new lifestyle, however brief it was going to be, with a nice detox, a haircut, and a few new articles of clothing that would allow me to blend in comfortably.  I am pleased to say now, as I am getting ready to start my first day of a month long, five hour a day, intensive Czech class, that I have checked all of the above off of the little scrap of paper that I wrote them down on.  As I was on the search for a little flat of my own and was close to sealing the deal, Sarah and Ryan offered me the extra bedroom in theirs.  I am paying less and they have a little extra pocket money to get through life with.  I think that it will be a really nice arrangement.  One week into my detox, which consists of nothing more than lemon juice, cayenne pepper, maple syrup, and water, I am feeling great but desperately trying to avoid the scents of anything flavorful until the next seven days go bye.  

Petr picked me up at the train station on Saturday afternoon and I was surprised to feel just as happy to see him as he was to see me.  I must admit that I am aware of my calloused existence and that he doesn't stand a chance in the long run and I am not ashamed to say that he will be the better for it in the end.  I have been admiring the ways of Dominique Francon and how bound I feel to her.  She knows how she affects people, she knows what to say as though her words formed the rules and the realities.  She has no friends and no particular like for anyone in particular but she makes others feel as though they need to be around her and want to be wanted by her.  She plays no game, only comes and goes as she pleases, and while some may feel as though they reached someplace special they dare not ask because she would not hesitate to express the nothingness that they really shared.  I know it seems cold but it is mere honesty.  I can be whatever Petr wants me to be but I can never be his and he is not so naive not to know it.  While December lingers over his head in a manner that he must fight and relish in every moment we have together.  I am happy to drift along the moments with ease, take pleasure in all that I am doing and in the slight excitement and twinge of pain that it causes.  It must be a hint of self torture that is the driving force of my being.  Making friends with Distaste and Unfamiliarity brings excitement and mental problem solving.  It seems to be one of the only ways I can actively use my brain these days, knowingly putting myself in difficult, emotionally involved, and undesirable situations. 

Enough of that.  I am happy for the time being.  I know the above paragraph will be read by many as unhappiness but for those of you that understand, it isn't about being happy, it is about being in control of ones actions and beings and not depending on anyone else to live.  

Winter seems to be coming closer because my leg finds itself under the covers at night as opposed to being draped over the edge of the bed.  It is almost as though this detox is clearing the way for my dreams to release what I keep neatly tucked away every moment of every day.  The dreams are horrible because it forces me to think I actually talk about the things with people.  Then I wake up and it seems to be ok.  I have some sort of bodily obsession which I can only assume most people do, but mine seems to consume so much space.  I have no standards but my own which I think must be the worst kind because who is ever pleased with themselves other than the ones that believe in happily ever afters?  Since living on the farm I have been more physically active since I don't know when.  It is not that I, in my own nature, don't appear physically active, but I am generally a procrastinator and if you at least appear physically active you can put off the actual activities as long as you want.  It takes the slightest strike of truth of absolute hatred towards ones body that brings action.  I have had mine and as painful not eating for fourteen days may be it is all an act.  I rejoice in front of the mirror every day because the muscles that I have become more pronounced as the fat withers away.  It is interesting how the body can turn on itself.  "You aren't feeding me!" it shouts.  "Fine, I will start eating myself inside and out."  I swear I laid in bed and could hear my ass fat screaming in horror and running away into some unknown place.

I attended a yoga class the other night.  It wasn't nearly as refined or disciplined as I like but it felt nice to consciously provide breath to my body and to activate the muscles to assure that they will never be neglected and only bowed down to.  I plan to attend again even if the music drives me crazy.  I can seek for mental clarity elsewhere.  I have found an indoor climbing gym and that is where I will let my mind let loose.  There is something about it that I can't quite describe.  It is complete surrender to something bigger and stronger than you and yet a sense of accomplishment and effort in dominating its exterior.  I am also, once again, scheduled to bare all in the small art studio and am not afraid to say that I am excited for it.