|
|
|
Journal
Entry September 9, 2003 I am worried that today might be a difficult
day because, only about two and a half hours after it started, I become so tired
that I cannot think, as though black hands has reached into my mind and gripped
it, stifling my thoughts and making me fantasize about my soft, warm bed and
resting my body on my mass of fluffy blankets, my head against my pile of
pillows, closing my eyes and letting my stress sink into the mattress.
Bliss. Nope. I’m
not in bed but rather in my car with the hot sun, a blue Hyundai at a dead stop
at a green light and an mp3 player that is determined to restart at the 8-Mile
Soundtrack folder. Maybe somebody
is trying to tell me something. I
stop the Angie Martinez song and turn it to 8-Mile, listening as Eminem screamed
that he needed “to escape from this 8-Mile Road” while I swerve to narrowly
miss a cop who doesn’t bother to use his turn signal. “My thoughts are whacked”; I can’t seem
to settle on one thought for longer than a minute and now I’m about to sit
through a three hour lecture that I had decided was going to be torturous
sixteen hours before it began. And
I’m hungry. Huuuuuungry like I have no stomach, and the food goes into my
mouth and then magically disappears. I’m
going to gain ten pounds from Bar-be-que chips alone.
It seems that every time I eat, I get hungrier.
I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed, but I know the theory of eating.
Hungry=eat=full not hungry=eat=hungrier. So, what’s going on here?
I remember a book I had to read in the sixth grade called the Phantom
Tollbooth where the people living in a city were faced with this very problem in
that the more they ate, the hungrier they got. It was like the city of math and their food had like a
multiplication virus in it or something. I
don’t remember. I’m not sure
what my point is. © EXCEL
What do you want to do?
|
