So it's nearly midnight and I should be exhausted, but instead I'm up and eating a hot dog. Disgusting, I know. My brain is all full and I feel restless so I thought I'd hack out an entry.
Ramadan starts tomorrow. Here is my plan:
Since I have a cold and have to talk on the phone a lot at my job I am allowed to drink water to ensure that my conversations aren't mostly me hacking a lung. This is only for job purposes, in other words, weekends don't count.
I am not allowed to go into bars during Ramadan. I am allowed to have either one beer or one glass of wine (at home), and in fact I am encouraging myself to try to have one of these every single night.
I am to eat only vegetarian food with one exception: we have the following meat products in our home currently--hot dogs, sandwich ham, fish sticks, and bacon. These I should try to eat as quickly as possible. I don't want them to go to waste & they will spoil before Ramadan is over. Which reminds me I need to buy some bread.
I am not to smoke between sunrise and sunset.
I think these are rules that are strict enough that I feel like I'm accomplishing something but not so strict that I won't be able to follow them.
Oh, and although sex is usually supposed to be banned during Ramadan; I shall fuck just as much as I please. Fucking my husband I don't think is something anyone will benefit from me reducing. Shit happens rare enough as is. However, to add some excitement, I think that during the sunrise-sunset periods I will try to obey the traditional thoughts on the matter. Lust makes the loins grow fonder.
Going through my old diary and correcting for grammar is interesting. It makes a person reflect quite a bit - so far I'm still on the part before I left for Senegal three years ago. Kind of puts in mind an urge to make another big trip, maybe go to grad school out of country or in a totally different part of the USA.
I was much angrier then, and I yearned for "compassion for the masses." I was full of spitfire, so to speak. I've found that compassion, but my life feels kind of dull. I've found that compassion, but I've veered steadily in the direction of acting like one of the masses as well - perhaps the "compassion" is really just lazy self-service. Can one stir up the ability to self-sacrifice and passionately care from some source other than anger? What would that source feel like?
Well, it's possible I can sleep now. We'll see. Exercise a few demons and chow down some tortured beef blend of parts. Yay. I want a cigarette now, too.