Self Destruction, Erik be thy name.

When thinking of self destruction, there’s the obvious extreme case that comes to mind; that of some poor soul lost to substance abuse. Drugs or alcohol have taken such possession of this victim that their families can no longer afford the mental, physical and financial anguish that accompany such a tragic set of circumstances. Their bodies reject normal living, ill at all times save the times they are under the influence of their chosen poison, or perhaps better stated as the poison that chooses them.

Have you ever seen Requiem for a Dream? It’s a terrible movie. I don’t need an hour and a half visual lecture that we are all victims of our own addictions. And Jennifer Connelly really should’ve shaved. Just saying.

But more to my original point: my own self destruction. It’s a destructive path of near moderation, the greatest irony in my life, most likely. I recently have come to the conclusion that I really only have the ability to exert my will on one thing at a time. I believe my will is strong, my focus is great; perhaps too much so, as it is seldom that I am able to really focus on several tasks. For example, right now, my focus is school. Everything else falls to the wayside; physical activity, proper dietary habits, family and friends. There was a year where it was all about the gym; I spent 10-15 hours a week there - it was awesome. There are times where I can go without coffee, there are times where I can go without drinking, but these times never coincide.

This leads me to wonder what it is in my wiring that doesn’t allow me to make the right decisions. ‘Right’ obviously doesn’t mean good vs evil in this instance, but in a mind/body kind of way; I can properly exercise my mind right now, so why is it that I can’t exercise my body? Why is it that I can’t exercise my will when it comes to food? Or beer? It’s 8:30, I’ll be going to bed in 3 hours. What I should drink is water. What I do drink is beer. I can totally recognize that I’m making the wrong decision, why can’t I just take that next step and make the right one? I’m back to drinking diet soda in the afternoon for caffeine. It’s awful, I am fully aware that it is just 20oz of disgusting, cancer causing chemicals. Doesn’t matter. And this morning, I forgot my oatmeal. Did I stop at Wilson Farms for a banana and orange juice? Nope. Straight to Burger King, donating a few dozen grams to my ever-growing mid section.

What’s the moral of the story? There should be an extra 6 hours in a day. I think with 30 hours to work with, I could get through work, even if I had to do overtime, I could pack in the necessary homework and still have time to go to the gym. And walk the dog. And clean the apartment. And cook dinner. And visit family.

Maybe an extra 10 hours…