I'm living the highly ordered life of one who has suffered an emotional setback and that order is the means of negotiating the disappointment that has resulted. A lot of it has to do with the weightloss effort. It requires a lot of forethought and planning to shop for and cook the most calorically-effective meals, to coordinate my gym schedule (which days will be cardio, which days lifting, which days both), etc. I do very well when I have a project to coordinate. It's both a gift and a coping mechanism.

The truth is that I still feel so cast adrift, and when I feel cast adrift, I need to coordinate a global effort. Disappointment is a great motivator for me. It heightens my already significant desire to keep things going, running smoothly, happening, at all costs. Any curve ball I'm thrown is tantamount to a challenge issued to attack an even more formidable foe, take on a heartier battle than the one I lost.

Once again I have turned my loving attention to my own best interests. I have a set of reasonable goals that I fully intend to achieve--another solitary journey--much like the last time I took my life and my body into my own hands and created something different and noble from the ashes of a devastating experience. It is also much like last fall when I wrestled with my thesis, and realized, again, that I am fundamentally alone. Not without support or friendship or love or God's provision, but alone with this thing I have to figure out, alone on this path. There is a point past which no other person can go--you've got to take some [excruciating] steps all by yourself.

So. I am doing a lot of list writing and thinking and articulating my hours and minutes on sheets of paper to keep myself sane--to give the impression of busyness--though my hyper organized hours leave nothing to chaos. And in that way, heighten the sense of loss I feel.

Cloudy, With A Chance of Miso

Yesterday's work date was a success--Sarah and I both made it through a sizeable chunk of our respective stacks of editing--after a sushi lunch (salmon and tuna rolls, a crabmeat salad, and the miso at left for me).

After wielding my red pen for several hours, I made my way back home and watched many episodes of The Office (season 2) on DVD, courtesy of my boss. I laughed myself past this ambient, pointed sadness that has hovered over everything for the last week.

This morning I woke up and made it through several more half-hour installments before going to work out, and then joining back up with Sarah for a Memorial Day sleepover. We've just been watching movies, snatches of television shows, and shooting video of random silliness and hijinx with my digital camera.

And underneath it all is the hope that maybe he'll call.