Pumpkin, You're Great

As someone who can comfortably down an entire pumpkin pie in a day, it has been the product of much mental energy to create such a pie as would prevent a personal caloric Armageddon. To clarify, I do not eat an entire pumpkin pie in one sitting. However, replacing all three daily meals with pie is not entirely unheard of. Pie with a side of eggs? Sure. Pie with a side of veggie burger? Why not. Pie with a side of salad? Absolutely. 

Four or five pies later, I believe that I have a success. A pie, the entire caloric dent of which is equal to the dent made by a single slice of traditional pumpkin pie, complete with protein, fiber, complex carbohydrates, and a healthy dose of beta carotene. Quite simply: suitable to substitute for any and all meals on an given day for any number of days in a row. Attention trending health sensations:  I have discovered the new superfood. This beautiful pie is also fantastically free of unidentifiable "fat free" or "sugar free" substitutions that are code name for chemical shit-storm.

Being in my own apartment, I have thoroughly enjoyed the freedom to cook and eat and make a mess of anything and everything that I like, and, lately, what I like is pumpkin pie. Today, I purchased Stevia in the Raw to substitute naturally for the sugar, silken tofu to substitute for part of the eggs/condensed milk, and lite coconut milk to add just a hint of creaminess and decadence, while simultaneously hydrating my hair and skin.  I also added a tablespoon of cornstarch and two tablespoons of EnerG Egg substitute to take care of the little pool of liquid that I found in the center of my last pie. 

And, Voila, success. I shall now consume pumpkin dessert at an unprecedented rate, with minimal guilt. The holiday season may come and go, but the training season never ends. In the spirit of GO BIG OR GO HOME, I will have my pie, and my protein too.

Go now, love.

I pray
That love, like death, will come swiftly
Take my feet from beneath me
And catch me in its arms
So that I shall never have to wonder
That it is love.

I pray
That love, like hate, would make me brave
Erase all contingencies
And cause my soul to leap
My heart to fight, my lips to scream the name
Of this one love.

I pray
That love, like God, will never leave
My heart, though romance fail me
I will not die alone
But know that a lifetime was worth the fall
To be, to love.

Product Perfection

By nature, I am a highly productive person; so productive, in fact, that I tend to render myself ineffective by pursuing perfection in too many directions at once. Perfect runner, perfect bodybuilder, perfect budgeter, perfect student, perfect employee, perfect daughter/sister, perfect friend, perfect ex-girlfriend, perfect homeowner, perfect book reader, perfect chef, perfect drinker, perfect leader, perfect peer, perfect fucking product of fucking perfection.

Some of these things might not even seem as though they can be something perfect. Perfect book reader? Yes; with just the right taste in material, and just the right amount of time set aside to absorb and learn without wasting any time, one can be a perfect book reader.

The funny thing is, my perception of perfection is constantly changing as my world view changes. Therefore, it never really exists, and it just as unattainable. Perfect drinker? Some weeks that's a perfect taste in wine, others, the best martinis, expensive vodkas, local brews, high-end cocktails; most of the time though, sobriety.

Certain things are the kryptonite of my intended productivity, however, and they get me. Every. Single. Time.
Perfect employee? Let one more customer pour half a cow's worth of cream in his coffee and then dare to tell me it's cold.
Perfect runner? Fear of mediocrity, resulting in minimal recovery time and maximum occurrence of injury.
Perfect chef? The skinny obsession.
Perfect student? Throw me some BroScience Life Youtube channel.
Perfect book reader? Thinking about all the other productive things I should be producing while productively reading a book.
Perfect budgeter? Sales. Ironic.
Perfect ex-girlfriend? A heart made of flesh.

Why is perfection imperfect?

If there is one thing that I could wish for, to accomplish or have gifted to me, in this life, it would be balance. A reassurance that the good counteracts the bad; that the good and bad are clearly defined, and that through the attainment of balance, vision of a clear path would open before me.

The beauty of life is that there is no balance, there is no perfection, but only striving. It is through the constant effort to better myself that I find the most fulfillment, and the most agony.

To starve, or to pour one's creative essence into delicious, life-sustaining food?

To regimen, or freestyle?

To study, or to learn?

To document, or to live and never remember?

To socialize, or to optimize?

To critique, or appreciate oneself in all one's imperfection?

To love, or to refrain from the accompanying pain through logic and stoicism?

Perhaps the most draining, baffling, ever nagging and back and forth question in my mind is this: does love lead to mediocrity?

Self love means that no further attempt at perfection is needed, therefore, why run? Why eat clean? Why get one's nails done or hair refreshed, or pay attention to the fit and color of one's clothing?

Love of others means that there is no changing them; you love them, and you love their flaws as a part of them. Does this mean that the friends you surround yourself with are then no longer motivating? Or one's life partner merely an addition to the monthly food bill?

What perpetrates the illusion of control? That by influencing any one mechanism we can alter the future outcomes of our lives? To an extent, we can. But, so can everyone else, and through the influence of a hundred million varied agendas, life becomes predictably unpredictable, and perfection is sacrificed at the altar of reality.

Where is the balance?
Where does perfection end, and life begin?