Someone once asked me how I do it. How I survive without many of the crutches that students and humans rely on. Okay, he was actually just asking how I pull off all-nighters without cigarettes or coffee. I'm editorialising. For self-inquiry's sake. Shut up.
I live my life according to an ethos. Do not hurt. Yes, sometimes I hurt, but only to mitigate, an exercise in disaster aversion, the prevention of bigger hurts. My life is all about the economics of pain.
Levitas: light in weight; levity or lightness.
Gravitas: substance, weightiness; a serious or dignified demeanour.
Veritas: the Truth; truth, verity; objective verity; the actual state or nature of things; reality.
I have to. It's an addiction of it's own. I have my weaknesses, indulgences, yes. Regular type, like a penchant for sugar. Discipline, self-denial, spartanism. These are my quorum. Made ascetic by life, by myself, by so many before, and then nineteen, and so many after.
Nineteen. They burn.
I deny myself.
I deny myself indulgence in a great many things. Not because of a hallowed belief in discipline. Not because of a distaste for luxury. Because of the picture in my head. A girl, long, dark hair, half-lidded eyes, short black dress exposing thin, pale thighs. Falling. Against a brick wall, against crumbling asphalt in a dirty alley, dark and wet. Intoxicated, awash in sorrow, alone, scraped, empty.
It would be me. It is. So many girls. Lost little girls. I don't know how to find them. I left them behind. Tried to leave them behind. They came. They went. I can't find them. Leave them alone and they'll come home, dragging their tails behind them.
Save them. Count them. Collect them. Like hockey cards. Who are you now, who have you been, where has your soul come to rest?
It's an aggregate. Life, too. It's an aggregate.
So the answer, then,
There is no answer, my friend-not-friend. It's the wrong question, you see. I don't have a secret to surviving without consuming these things, without self-indulgence. I survive because I avoid the things that would consume me. Or because I refuse to feed that one all-consuming pain. It eats away, certainly, fangs trained deep, tongue leeching the life out of my heart, but I will not let it grow stronger. It will not defeat me.
My secret for all-nighters: gorp.
Gorp: a mixture of high-energy food, such as nuts and dried fruit, eaten as a snack.
Gorp, Sarah style:
- 2 cups Quaker Natural Granola, Oats, Honey, and Raisins
- 1 package Reese's Pieces or Peanut Butter M&Ms
- 1 handful All-Bran Buds
- 1/2 handful Almonds
1. Take bowl out of cupboard.
2. Take stuff out of cupboard.
3. Pour granola into bowl.
4. Swear a lot and get really angry during epic battle with candy packaging.
5. Get down on hands and knees to pick candy up off the floor.
6. Pour other stuff into bowl.
7. Mix contents of bowl.
8. Pull all-nighter.
Note: measurements are for the weak. I just pour shit in a bowl. No exact science bullshit.
That, plus I drink a lot of water, to the point that I have to pee at least once an hour. This does wonders for keeping the system alert.
