It’s been only a week, and I’ve already fallen off the wagon – no posts in the past week, coffee in the morning, and red meat.  Need to start thinking about maintaining these juggling balls, slowly changing lifestyle habits if only to prove to myself that I am not my impulses.  It’s not so much control as knowing that you can be good to yourself.

Oh but a warm cup of coffee feels so comforting in the morning.  And barbecued ribs, charred and juicy, goes so well with rice-wine chicken soup and rice.  And sometimes the idea of having to put another thought out into the digital ether doesn’t sound as appealing as watching the latest episode of 30 Rock.

Giving into the small impulses feels so GOOD.  It feels good partly because you know it’s bad too.  And for a millisecond that little 5-year old part of you smiles because she knows she got away with something, before the 30-year old part of you finds out and brings a big basket of guilt.

This is the dilemma that every New Year’s resolution eventually encounters, and every self-help diet book tries to cure — the hope that you can make yourself a better person by divesting, purifying desires and instilling discipline, through a self-imposed Lent.  Does it work?  Just have to get back on the wagon and see.


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