A Foreign Peach

Beginning new endeavors

2011-11-08T08:40:00.000-08:00

I have decided to become fit, in ways that I never have before. Not just skinny like before, but healthy, and trying to deal with my EDNOS in the meantime. But it all starts with some "before" pictures: (some of these are NSFW, btw.)
Now, that's not to say I'm unhappy with myself now-- I work out regularly, and I love my body in a lot of ways...

I would just also like a little more toning, and to get to a new place in my eating habits. For the eating side of it, my goals are to be more mindful and thereby bring a new awareness to my eating habits that will shift me away from binge-eating and more towards what makes me feel good.
my breakfast this morning: low-cal english muffin with coconut oil and sea salt, and a pumpkin protein shake/yogurt (I like to eat my shakes w/a spoon, for some reason I have an aversion to drinking my calories)

here goes nothing! <3

talk about love or talk about dishwasher tablets

2009-07-01T18:42:00.000-07:00

[Fever Ray, 'Seven']

This is the first day I've had off in ages. Well, by off I mean I took a final exam in Organic Chemistry first. Then I met S and got to play with a puppy and see CG (all three= very cute), which was so much fun. S grounds me so much. Perfect start.

Then, I rushed back to my house to be picked up by GZ. I met GZ on Monday when I went swimming at the Y-- he's a lifeguard. As soon as I walked into the pool room I could see he was attracted to me. As I was swimming (head out of the pool, not concerned with speed) he asked me if I wanted some goggles, and then proceeded to give me a swim lesson. By the end of the time I was there I was much faster, and then he asked for my number. So today we were on a seven hour date (this seems to be a common theme. I do very long dates-- this used to happen with Ju, too.) Teavana (yum. love tea.) then Farmer's market for food (also yum) and then walking around Decatur and the graveyard (making out where J and I never did) and talking. It was pretty cool. He's awesome, but I have a few reservations already. I'm not going to judge him on them yet, though. a) He's a little young. I know, it's just a number. b) Some of the things he says seems like they are edited so I'll like him more-- this is part of the reason a) is an issue, actually, because I feel like that's more of an immature/unsure who you are-type thing to do. c) He doesn't seem like he'd be able to deal with all of the aspects of me-- I mentioned the queerness, and he seemed ok with it, but not entirely comfortable... I'll probe that a bit more. I suppose as a straight cis male hearing that from someone you want to date is a little confusing, so I give him props for handling as he did. He also handled my mentioning of my ED very well. (I don't usually spring these things on first dates, but it was 7 hours long. After a couple of hours it amounts to the second or third dates of "normal length".) We have plans to go night-swimming at a private pool he used to look after, but not definite as to when.

Speaking of plans, I have plans with S and CG for the 4th! Possibly the most exciting week in a while.

Speaking of exciting, today is the third day that I have honest-to-goodness been eating healthily-- by which I mean eating when I am hungry, and just enough. And it feels amazing. I feel like I am in a really good place. The only thing is both Monday night and tonight I had to go back and eat more dinner after I'd eaten with my family, because I felt light-headed and/or cranky and knew that I was way under 1100 kcals. [I really do not want to starve myself. No.] Tomorrow (or Friday, maybe) my brother is coming over for his birthday dinner and there will be peach cobbler, but I don't feel that worried about it. I feel so good about it. Go me!

Now all I need to do is talk to the cute guy in my program, ace semester 2 of organic chem, and ace the MCAT. Piece of cake, right? Life does seem a little more manageable today.

Woah. Major league exhaustion. Bed is a good idea.

today I...

2009-06-28T13:20:00.000-07:00

-Goofed off
-wrote a letter to my future self
-danced around like a fool
-did a bit of studying, but not nearly enough for the final on Wednesday (or the mock tomorrow! eek.)
-resolved to do the same things I always do, but in a slightly different way, so it'll work this time (I just re-wrote that sentence so many times it's not funny, each saying something along the lines of 'I think/ am pretty sure/hope it'll work, etc. but I wanted something more definitively positive. I don't need to set my self up for failure.)
-goofed off some more. I might actually try to get more studying done, now.

I was born to laugh

2009-06-19T18:03:00.000-07:00

[I learned to laugh through my tears-- "Born", by Over the Rhine: thanks to Mr. Sexsmith at Sugarbutch for this one]

This has been a challenging week. We started that actual hard part of Organic (memorizing amazing amounts of reactions and trying to create pathways for synthesis with very little time to process), and JB finally gathered his kahunas and told me that he doesn't reciprocate my feelings. To be honest, we'd had this discussion before via Facebook, and I could kind of instinctively sense it when I saw him, but just marked it down to British hesitance about PDA. Even Sunday, before he'd said anything, S asked me about whether he reciprocated, and I hesitated. Nonetheless, I can't pretend I was all right with it. Most of all, though, I was upset by how he pretended-- lying to me, and betraying his inner feelings-- that is what gets me more than the lack of feelings. I can completely get if feelings are not there (in fact, Sunday I 'broke up' with SJ. I didn't explain that I don't have feelings for him, though. He was taking it hard enough, and I'm not completely heartless.) But I never expecting anything to happen when I went back (hum. perhaps because we'd had that very talk before, albeit a long time ago?) Thankfully, though, I went over all this with him (I'm not sure if he understands how sad it makes me that he can't be true to himself, though.) So I've been hurting. I took off the Mickey Mouse ring I've been wearing on my thumb since I left England two years ago (I wore it upside down, since I hate Mickey Mouse, so that it looked like little monsters or even water molecules.) The skin under it is old-- so pale, and wrinkly. Vulnerable. I didn't even wear it as an emblem of whatever relationship we had, but I couldn't go on looking at it on Monday, so I pulled it off. Now, I think that I'm going to keep it off not so much because he hurt me, but more because I couldn't go on wearing a Mickey Mouse ring forever. It's time to grow up a little bit, like when I decided to stop wearing my pacifier-charm necklace.

The way I've been thinking in the last few days, though, has been surprisingly good. I've been thankful for the little things, like walking home at 9:00 from my MCAT prep class and being able to see fireflies all over my garden. Or sitting on the front porch steps in the sun, eating a peach and letting the juice slide down my wrist and under my watch, enjoying the way I twist my arm to lick the drops off. The way my arms feel in the water when I'm swimming. The neatness of my writing, and the way an organic synthesis problem comes together like a puzzle.

I've been thinking about how if I really felt all that strongly about JB if I would feel this good. It's kind of a lightness, a freedom... the thought struck me the other day: I'm done with all my Js. JF and JB are still my friends, despite hurt on either end, SJ probably won't speak to me again unless I see him or seek him out (doubtful), J is involved in his crazy life in sf, Ju never wrote back when I sent him an email explaining our break up also involved my queerness... No more Js. I'm liberated (not that I ever felt trapped, except perhaps a bit with SJ or Ju, and those issues have been dealt with.) So I got to wondering about my propensity to get infatuated with people. I've learned not to say that I love someone, since I recognize my somewhat mercurial nature. Every time I think I might possibly be starting to fall in love, something happens that lets me know that it wasn't that. Man, just today I remembered in high school saying that I thought I was in love with IR. Lord, what a fool I was. What I'm getting at is that this is not a new pattern. There's a cute guy in the new group of post-baccs, and I'm trying hard not to get too caught up and start getting obsessed with him because it might make things seem easier. He is pretty cute, though, and yesterday I saw him biking home while I was waiting at the crossroads to go to my MCAT class. (He makes me blush. Funny how sometimes I can be so flirty and out there [CM comes to mind, or AS, or AB. I really am a flirt.] and other times I can be so incredibly shy.) Achem. I'm getting side-tracked. My point is I'm very good at fooling myself. Funnily enough, though I still have every faith that one day I'll be madly in love. For a long time. We'll see.

Visual Mixtape

2009-06-19T06:27:00.000-07:00

Things I am: A Stress Blip, and Emotionally Messed Up

2009-06-13T14:21:00.000-07:00

What's new, right? Right.

Life these days consists of: (weekday) wake up, study, eat, go to school, study, eat, study, eat, go to MCAT prep class, eat, study, sleep. Repeat. The weekend is not that much of a deviation, actually, just more disordered eating because I'm in my house more, and less structured study.

On the subject of eating: I was doing really badly when I first got back from Europe. I'm still not doing well, but I have improved. I also found out that the supposed laxatives I was taking weren't actual laxatives, which makes me feel simultaneously relieved and disappointed. I am feeling pretty good about my body notwithstanding the way I have been treating it, possibly because I know I don't really have time to remedy the maltreatment.

Study-wise: Organic Chem would be fun if I wasn't doing in the summer, specifically this summer. MCAT prep and Orgo at the same time, all condensed like this, is not conducive to avoiding burnout. Nope. Add onto this the stress of trying to figure out what schools I want to go to, how I'm going to fulfill all of the requirements of clinical experience and shadowing before I apply, etc. and I'm pretty much at my wits end. If I have any wits about me, that is.

Emotionally, I am fucked. I am so over doing anything with SJ, I am torn by not hearing from JB, and the attention-whore part of me wants to hear from CM (I don't honestly think that anything would come from it, I just would like to clarify some things.) I miss J, but wonder how I would feel if I saw him again. I got a pretty cute admission of fancying from VE, but I don't think anything is going to come from that, and if it did it would me just messing her around more than she deserves. I do that a lot. I am done with romantic love for a good while, I think. I'll stick to some good old friend-love (and no, not the kind of friend-lovin' I know I've done in the past.) I don't have time for it anyway.

Right, break over. Time to get back to studying.

kvetch, kvetch, kvetch

2009-06-04T20:07:00.000-07:00

is all I can seem to do today. Organic chem since 8:30 (well, actually since 7, since I got up early to work on it) until 3, then a diagnostic for the MCAT from 6-10. The only good part about my day was I went for a run.

Then I stuffed my face with trail mix and have again abused the laxatives. It seems 'recovery' is not part of the picture right this moment.

The problem with me

2009-06-03T18:26:00.000-07:00

is [my] problem with you (not the actual lyrics, adapted from the Buddy Peace remix of Her Space Holiday's 'Something to do with my hands.)

I am a stress blip.
I don't want to be back in the States, and while I don't mind doing Organic Chemistry (in fact, I'm rather enjoying it) I would like a two-second breather. Alas, that is not so, and I have to dive head-first into an 8-week intensive course while I am depressed and jet lagged.

I am very lonely right now. SJ thinks he can remedy this, but in actuality it's just a distraction. It's not something that can be cured, unless maybe I go back to the UK, and even then I know it wouldn't be remedied because a certain someone doesn't ever take what's in front of him. *sigh* If only it were possible to test.

So I've been eating more than I can possibly handle (over by more than I have been in years, and no time to exercise) and to make matters worse I've been mis-using the laxatives that I had to get on my trip to help out my digestion. I know. I know. But I'm still doing it.

The two things I need above all, besides the time to do everything I need to: sleep and love (preferably in the form of hugs. Or even just a short note.)
*sad emo face*

Oh, the familiarity

2009-06-02T03:28:00.000-07:00

This is a pretty close approximation to how I've been feeling of late: http://whenorif.wordpress.com/2009/06/01/i-dont-blame-you/

So tired/ tired of waiting/ tired of waiting for you

2009-05-30T14:06:00.000-07:00

(That's Green Day, that is.)

So, back in the realm of interweb connection after a week out in the middle of nowhere, with only one quick phone call all week (purely to wish a happy birthday to AB.)

Ended up telling JF about AB making out stuff, he was injured and still is-- and not talking to AB, which makes me guilty. I feel bad about it, but he doesn't really have much right to be fucked off with me about it, since I'm not going out with him anymore and he's a hipocritical bastard, since he went out with AB's ex with no qualms ages ago. So I'm just leaving it. If he doesn't forgive me, so be it.

Time in London was awesome and heart-wrenching. I saw loads of people I love, discovered bits of the city I'd never seen before, got drawn in a park, cried, sighed, and screamed in happiness... so much went on. Seeing JB was amazing. I overuse that word. It was phenomenal-- I was so incredibly happy for that short period of time, I'm sure I annoyed him with all my little squeaks and squeezes, but I couldn't help it, I couldn't bottle it. And when he climbed up onto that bus with his duct-taped backpack, not even looking back (probably because he assumed I'd just walk away, instead of standing there with my heart in my shoes) I felt a huge surge of hatred for those damned automobile carriages called buses that have carried the people I care about so much away from me. They've stolen hopes and yearnings and things that make me wiggle and dance, and displaced them to somewhere far-- where they belong, I suppose, but still far enough from me to make me extremely upset.

My brother's civil ceremony was short and sweet, with no big fuss being made despite the champagne and fancy dress (tuxes for the boys and my mom and I wore fascinators, which is the name for those feather and flower thingies, somewhat akin to some flapper head-dresses, except on a hair clippy thing instead.Very fun.)

Italy was even more astounding-- we were in the mountains, kind of near Calgi, and the agroturismo we were staying in was so cool. The house was huge and old and full of character (part of it was 300 years old!) and the views were spectacular (I have not seen this many stars in a very, very long time.) We arrived last Saturday, and I partied pretty much every night except last night and the Wednesday (saving myself for Thursday, which was the "ceremony".) Thursday consisted of people putting the finishing touches on their dishes (since many guests contributed a dish to the feast-- the real ceremony was the meal and the contribution of components from all of the people that Chris and Katie love and that love them.) Even though I hate speaking in public, I did it-- sobbing, might I add, since as soon as my other brother started speaking the little break in his voice as he said "I love my brother very much" set all of us (all three children, and our parents, too) to weeping. The three course meal (Jaysus Fucking Christ, that's all I can say) was amazing, and after that there was dancing and craziness (with a self-saved awkward turtle moment) [and some making out with the bride's brother, which may or may not have happened on a couple of the other nights. achem. Oh, and a naked dash to the bathroom when someone was making their way to the kitchen at 7 in the morning whilst some shenanigans were going on in the banquet hall. *cough cough*]

I swear, I sound like such a slut. Really, if I had my way, I wouldn't be doing all of this. If I could live in the same place I would be quite happily monogamous (at least, as far as I know, in my imagination of what life would be like in such a situation.) But that's not going to happen anytime soon, if at all. I'm not going to say with who, though.

Right now I am at Katie's parents house in the outskirts of London, feeling shite (gut and ovaries and feelings, all.) I may not well see CM (Katie's brother) at all again before I go, which makes me feel more than a little bit weird (obviously, our fooling around was not something made public to the families, though I think our respective moms and other people involved are astute enough to pick up on something.) I hate leaving with no closure... of course, my impulse is leave a mix cd, but I have no burner and only a few songs in my head to go on said mix ('Stay away from me' by the Honorary Title and 'Land-locked blues' by Bright Eyes, in particular, though that could be because I spent quite a bit of my PMS-y day feeling more than a little pissed off at the way he treated me.) Actually, it's less the way he's treated me (he's actually very sensitive and attentive and sweet) and more the way I'm always that girl that people hide or just fool around with, like with T or A or AB or JB even. Always the fuck in the closet (not that I've ever done that... what an intriguing and potentially uncomfortable idea...) It's not a good fucking feeling. I think most of my anger toward CM today was really just an echo of my anger at A last year. And definitely some ovary-related moodswings.

Speaking of mood swings today, I cried (or started to) a bit on the plane today because I kept thinking of JB. I haven't heard from him since he got back to York, and I know he's busy studying for exams (and it's not because I haven't heard from him that I was crying/on the verge of~) but I can't help but worry that things are fucked up between us. In my book, that would be a travesty. (no, not an executif or d'action)

Sometimes I can't help but think that some of my dramatic mood swings in public are purely to get a reaction out of people. For example, I get the sneaking suspicion that I wanted to cry to get CM to talk to me more than U (who I am fucking jealous of, but not attracted to at all. Usually if I am that jealous it's because I want to be that person and find them very arousing. In this case, it's purely attention- [and possibly self-assurance] -based.) You'd think that I would know my own intentions and be able to control them, wouldn't you? Not so. The Drama Queen rears her head and poises her claws to rake out any ounce of self-contol and respect I have to render me once again a pain-in-the-arse, paranoid teenager-figure. Fuck. And right this minute, I feel that way again, because I am secretly hoping that CM will walk in the door again and we can have a proper talk before I depart in the morning. Somehow, I doubt that's going to happen. Oh well, there's always Facebook stalking, right?

Em the Femme?

2009-05-12T01:08:00.000-07:00

I told S a while ago that between biology class and the community, I was learning more new vocabulary than I knew what to do with. I was just reading an interesting post on being/not being Femme (http://sexgeek.wordpress.com/2009/05/09/on-not-being-femme/) and found myself questioning that identity as well, or maybe just the delineations of the definition. This year I have been reading an awful lot about what it means to be Femme or queer or genderqueer, and I find that some of it jars with me. Take, for example, the labeling of a person as a Femme because they happen to get regular pedicures, or some other such superficial habit. I don't-- in fact, I take pretty poor care of my feet and even just my nails in general. (I don't like the idea of paying someone to deal with my nasty feet, in a similar way to how I don't like paying to have 'maids'. I am not a slave-owner.)

I guess some of the things I take issue with might fit more under the definition of Femme in contrast with High Femme. SJ called me High Femme a while ago, and I questioned it even then. He said I was, even in my rain boots on his birthday. But to me, to slot myself into that cubby-hole is too limiting, and doesn't feel right. High Femme to me screams of high-maintenance, painful feet (not that I wouldn't wear heels if I didn't have this toe problem), and the same kind of dressing up for other people that I take issue with in the straight community. I think on some level I just need to hear a High Femme's definition of it, rather than the slightly negative vibes I've heard-- I just remember being at that queer party a while ago and hearing the host talk about how she can't stand High Femmes. I suppose from that I associated them with the kind of girl that I can't stand: superficial in both appearance and social matters. So you can imagine that I was not pleased to be called such a thing.

I am ready to be convinced otherwise, but even Sex Geek says something about Femmes being excited to talk about things like shoe shopping and 'beauty' procedures with passion. If that's the definition of a Femme, then I am most certainly not one: I like shoes, yes (even though I am doomed to wear these hiking boots until I wither away) and even like shopping on some level... but I like doing them, not talking about them. And even when I do them, I do a quick sweep-- if there is nothing I like, I'm out of there. I may be indecisive about a lot of things, but not about clothes. That's where my "Femme-ness" comes into play: I love to dress up. Not just dresses, either. I have always enjoyed a bit of genderfuck juxtaposition. Dresses with combat boots, short skirts and ties, etc. Or sometimes I will go full-out jeans, button-down, and tie-- with dangly earrings, of course (can't go without those.) In that way, I feel Femme: I feel powerful and sexy and like me when I am dressed up, when I have thought about what I'm wearing and am confident in it so that I don't give a shit what anyone else thinks about it. That, to me, is being Femme-- I don't need to be wearing a skirt or heels to feel feminine and empowered, I can be Femme with my short hair and butch hiking boots, with my unmanicured nails, with no dangly earrings. But in the end, whether I fit other people's definition of Femme or not, I am me and I am getting comfortable in my own skin-- and that's all that really matters.

A Londres...

2009-05-11T07:00:00.000-07:00

faire comme les Londoniers? (je ne sais pas.)

I've been in London since Saturday at noon. It's very strange, and very nice simultaneously: I haven't been since I left York after graduation in '07. At that point, I was still technically "with" JF (though stuff with JB had already happened and I was mentally gone already.) Now, I'm single and a lot more mature... but still do things that I might not if I considered the consequences. For example, making out with AB, who's one of my best friends and also the person I am staying with for the duration of my stay in London... I'm fairly certain that he's approaching it as casually as I am (I almost typed 'with as much casualty', which may well be the case if I am wrong) so it's just a bit of fun, but I was wondering about how it would interfere if there was someone else that I wanted to pull during my trip (I will name no names... or even initials. I'm just open to possibilities.) One of the things that came up in mid-kiss pauses was the fact that we could get in a lot of trouble for it--from JF. I understand the whole 'no fooling around with/whatever with my ex' to a degree, but it still pisses me off that he still (unknowingly) claims some level of ownership over me. He'd say that he doesn't, but if he knew that AB and I messed around, he'd flip a shit (I don't know where I got that expression, apologies.)

Speaking of issues with ownership, I know that I should tell SJ about all this stuff (well, AB for the moment-- my mother accurately noted before I left that I'm a sucker for accents) but I'm not exactly sure how. He said stuff about being cool with me doing stuff, and even was considering doing stuff himself with some special people that were coming through town, but then he threw in the 'My grrrl' and wants me to say 'my Daddy' after that, so he may have decided against it and is not being clear (this happens a lot, actually. He apparently told me my safeword at one point (obviously earlier in our play dates) but I didn't catch it because sometimes I can't understand him or hear him, and I ask him to repeat himself a lot, so I feel rude and like a bad grrrl. I think it'll be best to just let him know about whatever goes on when I get back, rather than sending him emails with whatever has happened of that nature.

So far, I have walked along the Thames, gone to Camden, gotten lost a lot, and just generally chilled-- which is amazing. I have not studied since Wednesday (though I'm planning to start MCAT review, or at least work on my personal statement, today) The people I've seen have been my brother and AB... I see JF tomorrow, we'll see what that's like. Now, I'm going to try to think of something yummy for dinner and do aforementioned work. Huzzah!

Who's your...?

2009-05-08T13:30:00.000-07:00

There is much in my life I am not blogging about at the moment, but this has been niggling me as a potential topic for quite a while now, and I need to address it before I head off to England and forget all about anything I was meaning to do.

So there's this interesting dynamic, this strange shift, that I have to make when I leave my house for SJ's or any interaction with SJ. SJ and I have a Daddy-grrrl thing going on, which is an entirely new direction in my life (not just sex life) that has some interesting elements to it all on its own. But then, add in the fact that I live with my parents, and still call my father 'Daddy'. At first, I had a hard time with calling SJ 'Daddy', for exactly that reason. The incestuous implications of it were just a little too much to handle upon first contemplation.

Oh, and my mother used to call me 'girl' when she was angry at me/I was in trouble. I hated it. I would always scream back, "don't call me 'girl!'" and she would say, "what should I call you, 'boy'?" I don't remember what I replied, but it should have been asking her to call me by my name. It's worth noting that both of my brothers got called by their full names (polysyllabic first names, along with their middle names and our long-ass last name), while I just got called a monosyllabic label. I'm not sure if I realized that at the time, or if that was the reason I objected to it so strongly. Maybe I had/have a bit more of genderfuck in me than I sometimes present :P

Both of those facts made the beginnings of my ventures into actual submissiveness (I mean under an actual top, not just softcore) a little challenging on more than just the usual attempts to tame my sassy/snarky comments. Now, though, I have managed to disconnect these associations, so I can easily go from calling SJ 'Daddy' to saying hello to my father when I come home, with relatively little awkwardness. The 'grrrl' thing bothers me less, as long as I know it's 'grrrl' and not 'girl'. When I first got a text from SJ calling me 'my grrrl', I misread it as 'my girl' and immediately refused to reply, because I don't want to be possessed or owned. I am nobody's girl but my own. I do like giving myself up for a while, but no one can claim full ownership of me, which is a fact that I very much like.
That being said, I know that for all SJ wants me to feel free (he mentioned something about when I went to England, and whether I was going on a 'sex tour') he also makes it pretty clear in the way he acts that he'd probably be hurt by it on some level-- not that I know this for sure, but I'd like to think of myself as being pretty good at reading people, especially people I've spent some time with. I have had some moments where I feel kind of bad, because I am not as into him as he is into me... but then, when I go see him I get to be taken out of my comfort zone, experience these new things that are helping me learn about myself in a way that grounds me. So, as selfish as those reasons sound, I go back. [NB: me not liking him as much as he likes me does not mean I don't like him-- he is always saying how much he adores me and has even used the l word (no, not the bloody TV show)] With all the shit that I have to deal with in between schoolwork and applications to med schools and the (metaphorical) self-flagellation that I put myself through on a constant basis, I need someone to do the (physical) flagellation for me, and hold me afterwards (my personal aftercare is somewhat shabby-- or non-existent :P )

So I'm selfish. Aren't we all? Besides, I'm not just taking.

This is one more day on the verge of tears

2009-05-07T10:04:00.000-07:00

['Failure by Design', by Brand New]

I start to like my body, start to feel comfortable again despite disordered binge-starve patterns... and then I try on clothes that I think should fit, and they don't, and I want to break down and never eat again. Except I don't do that, instead I go an eat the best parts of a 28-serving package of peanut m+ms in 3 days. I gross myself out, and worry about the epigenetic traits I'll pass on to my grandkids. It's not the fat that grosses me out, it's the eating patterns. This is what makes me hate myself with a burning rage that is otherwise reserved for the likes of ignorant bigots.

I'm late, I'm late!

2009-04-27T17:48:00.000-07:00

for a very important date? No. Just generally feeling rushed and stretched and stressed. Thus the lack of posting: no time. However, there is always room for linkage.
http://whenorif.wordpress.com/
I think I have a bit of 'the Crazy', too

pop!

2009-04-22T08:29:00.000-07:00

I prefer the shimmer of water to any gold, and the sparkles in your eyes to any gemstone.

I let it go, like paper airplanes

2009-04-20T16:32:00.000-07:00

[I don't know who this is. I know it's a song, though.]
*Disclaimer: annoyingly emo and angsty post.

Today, I cannot be positive. I should be studying, I have a lot of work to do... but instead I am sitting, invisible, on gchat, lamenting the fact that I can't/won't talk to J. I would like to go visible and start chatting, but I am terrified that he will go not reply and go offline like has happened so many times before, and I don't want to feed into my paranoia. Besides, I don't have anything positive to say. Yes, it's what I'm feeling, but it's also a downer. I don't want anyone else to feel the sapping of energy and vitality that I am experiencing right now. This is a pretty good analogy of how I feel even when we're talking to each other though-- there's a barrier, a sadness that keeps me from really communicating, as much as I'd like to discuss everything and anything. But when it comes down to it? I can't. I clam up. I become the scared little girl from middle school, hiding behind her fat and feeling like nothing in the world could make whoever my attention was focused on like me, so I might as well be stand-offish. I need sleep, and just enough food, and hugs.

I need more meds, but don't have an appointment with the doctor yet.

[I've] only just begun...

2009-04-18T16:27:00.000-07:00

[the Carpenters]
I just spent several minutes writing and then erasing various things in the empty space on Twitter. So many of my tweets these days have been negative or emotional, except for my replies, and I don't think that needs to be out there in that medium. Microblogging is essentially an attention-grabbing/quick update thing, and I don't want consolation, I just want to capture a little bit of what I'm feeling.

*I'd only just begun to get to know (more than a couple of aspects of) J, and it's a strange sensation to feel so much attachment for this person that I can't honestly say that I feel I know. It makes me feel regret for not getting the chance to know him as he was, but I'm also thankful that I got to see what little of him I did, and makes me hopeful for getting to know our future selves (myself as well as him.)

I know, I'm pushing the emo-ness.

And, to push that a little bit farther (I've never been particularly restrained):
*I'm only just beginning to realize my potential-- in both good and bad ways; my potential to do awesome things, and my potential to hurt. I think I'm learning more about myself this year than I ever felt I have before. It's a scary thing.

This takes the cake

2009-04-18T15:02:00.000-07:00

I have much I could say. But for right now, I just want to direct your attention to this beautiful post: http://dorothysurrenders.blogspot.com/2009/04/my-weekend-crush_17.html

Like a real life teddy bear... with a brain

2009-04-16T18:38:00.000-07:00

{Q, whilst we were discussing what animal Dr.W should be-- we settled on an Ewok, even though [or maybe because] it's a fictitious creature, because nothing else seemed equally friendly, smart, and cute.}

Today in the computer room (where so much "studying" goes on-- read: gossip and sharing of hilarious youtube videos), the subject of Seth Rogen came up. I, being the entertainment black hole that I am (ie. I know nothing), did not know that he had lost a bunch of weight. Neither, it seems, did M, so we both looked up pictures to see what Q and JP were talking about. They said something about him looking 'almost too skinny' (whatever the hell that means.) Think about this: a few weeks ago, the same people were talking about Eliza Dushku as though she could have stood to lose those 10 pounds or so she allegedly dropped for Dollhouse to look "smoking". Does this not strike anyone else as a bit of a doozy? It's well known that society perceives it to be perfectly all right to be male and overweight (successful, etc.), and when he loses weight (for the Green Hornet movie he's going to make) it's not very long before there's talk of him getting close to being 'too skinny' and that he looked better with some chub. (NB: there are also plenty of other responses saying that he 'looks great now' and even that he could stand to lose a few more.) But overall? He lost a lot of weight, yes, but he's nowhere near the emaciation that is considered standard or even chubby for a woman in the same business. Tina Fey also lost a shitload of weight before she became a big hooha. Now excuse me, but that fucks me off. I really don't get this fetishistic idolization of skeletal, pre-pubescent women. I don't even get it in the depths of my eating disorder-- I never wanted to be like that, I always wanted to be strong and healthy; my body type is just such that the weight that I was aiming for to be that was also to the point on scarily skinny. I have a large frame (on occasion I will jokingly call it Amazonian) and so I will never be a size 0 or even a size 6. But you know what? I am sick of feeling like I need to squeeze into whatever size society deems "acceptable" to be categorized as thin. I am life-sized.

2009-04-13T16:05:00.000-07:00

Hey, man, now you're really living

2009-04-13T11:18:00.000-07:00

[the Eels]
Feel like rubbish today. It occurred to me that I have not taken my meds in 6 days, without thinking about it-- it also occurred to me that my fucked up mood swings might have something to do with it, so I'm going to take some tonight and try to make an appointment with a doctor to get my prescription refilled, because I really can't afford to do something to the detriment of myself just because I'm bull-headed. I have enough unhealthy shit going down right now.

Right this moment I feel pretty bad about the SJ thing. I feel like I'm exploiting the attention he gives me, and falling into the same shit I played with CD last year. I feel like I'm holding a horrible double standard, and treating him with the same kind of crap that I am always paranoid people are treating me with when I like them more than they like me. That's not fair, and it's not making me like myself any more. Plus, I really should hunker down and focus more on school for these last few weeks, and then I'm in England, and then this summer's going to pretty much be hell.
Speaking of CD, he wrote me a myspace message today, talking about how he's so sad and misses me but he knows that my feelings for him are no longer there (eek. can't bear to tell him they never really were. CD's one of the bigger mistakes I've made in my large repertoire of fuck-ups) and he can resign himself to his fate and move on, but I have to tell him that. I seem to get myself in this situation quite a bit, where this person that I led on for a little bit because I'm a bitch or attention whore or even because I thought I liked them goes gaga and I feel like the worst person in the world but I cannot conjure up emotion that is not there. I can't stand lying, either... I can do it (not sure how convincingly), but I hate it because it makes me hate myself, and I have enough of that without lying. I also hate to hurt people, though, and that seems like it's just going to happen. Doesn't make it easier, though. Fuck.

I was given a meal plan to help me get back on track. Instead, I have been blatantly ignoring it/deviating from it. I am now afraid to write down the things I have been eating and the way I have been feeling in my food diary as I'm supposed to because I'm afraid of being judged by my therapist. Who I tell a fuck-load, but she couldn't handle everything that goes on in my life (well, what do you know? Neither can I, apparently.) I know she's trained for this shit, but I can hear her tone of voice, I see her little mannerisms shift, I know I've made her uncomfortable before and could easily do it again-- this is why I feel like I could be a good psychiatrist, I can read people pretty well.

Actually, I've been thinking about what I want to do medically, and I feel like I'm leaning more away from psychiatry, more toward family care or something a little more broad... I obviously don't know, though. I still have dreams of marrying cognitive therapy with movement therapy and art therapy. SJ said something about trans folks (or anyone that deviates from the norm, really) being afraid to call an ambulance or go to the doctor when they need to, because of the way that they can be received, which totally fucks me over and makes me so incredibly upset and furious with the myopic world view that so many people have. If I could provide any degree of solace in the medical profession for people who are denied their dignity in the usual health care field, I would be honored. Now how to actually go about it is another matter. I can't exactly put that on my personal statement. :P

Also, on applying to med schools and stuff: I'm reminding myself-- especially when I get freaked out about things-- that this is me attempting to follow my dreams. I've come so far already, and I have agency in deciding how and when it goes down. If I really want it, I can achieve it, and get it done well ("Get 'er done!" hehe.) And in the end, if I don't get in this year? There's always next, and maybe I wasn't meant to rush through it.

Angels don't eat fairies, though

2009-04-12T14:08:00.000-07:00

[from a silly Sunday comic: prefaced by "fairies have insect wings, and angels have bird wings. Birds eat fairies."]

There feels as though there is very little time to blog, and (with that) very little time to process. I suppose I always feel that though-- a kind of suffocating, overwhelming sense of 'there's something important that I need to be doing' that contributes to my constant denigration of myself. But anyways.

Friday, dancing with SJ again-- First of all, left the house in a heavy thunderstorm, with tornado warnings. On the way out of the door, my mother screamed at me that I was a fucking idiot, as lighting flashed. I lived, obviously. Later, was forbidden (by SJ) from wearing my watch. [for me, this is big. I constantly and compulsively check my watch.] In lieu, I was presented with a pair of purple restraints, which were worn out to MSR. Saw the drag show, danced dirty, then proceeded to the 'cottage'. (Was apparently commented about muchly to SJ.) I have mixed feelings about going out with that sort of marked "ownership", albeit for a short time period-- I know I like to be submissive (oh, yes) and that was a hell of a turn-on, but the loss of some degree of independence, while contributing to the overall submission factor, also irritates me somewhat. I guess I just want to be able to flirt with anyone and everyone that appeals to me(or, as my pattern goes, flirts with me.) [I'm sure I'll get more into this later ] So, the 'cottage'-- real restraints and rope, a spreader bar, just extra-light stuff, except a little bit of choking. (First impression: 'what the fuck??' *ensuing panic*; subsequent impressions: 'well, I can still breathe for the most part' and getting too caught up in coming, then starting to like it.) I made SJ come like crazy, which was gratifying but a little disappointing for me at times because it was often when I was close but not there. Luckily, there were many more gos :P Overall: was fun (very), but I feel kind of off about it, maybe because I'm not crazy about him-- which is not to say that I don't like him, because otherwise I wouldn't be doing this, it's just... well, I'm making comparisons, when I probably shouldn't be. But that's a bit off-topic. I'm getting better at asking things properly, but there are times when I'm a bit too lippy to be classified a Good grrrl... but then, a little bit of naughty just makes things more fun. :P
Saturday morning I drove home, tried to get some work done, then met S, C, and SJ at the cottage again. There was cooking, naked hot-tubbing (S, C, and I. Not sexual, fyi), laughter, and a bit of fumbly-ness on the part of SJ (cute.) It was really nice to get to talk to C more, and S and C's interactions are adorable. Soon after dinner (I cooked! Not up to my usual standards, but my excuse is I'm out of practice. Lots of nutritional yeast made up for what it lacked, though :P) and special cookies, S and C departed for the hot tub again, and SJ and I stayed in on the couch. Later, after some hot tubbing of our own, we retired to the bedroom... this time, there was a little more stuff that I haven't experienced before-- briefly, a flogger and paddle; some frontal spanking... I guess I'm a little filthier than I used to be-- I remember not liking some things when JF did them, but that might have also been because he had no idea about topping (either proper practices or otherwise. Another reason JF and I weren't wonderful together: we're both bottoms.) I liked the vulnerability of it, the power play-- as a bottom, I still felt like I had a lot of power (especially with how many times he came, it was pretty amazing. I guess that's what some of my other lovers must have thought of me :P) Complaints: I couldn't seem to come as well as I usually do. I was certainly turned on, but something wasn't hitting right. That's not to say that I didn't, because I made the properly phrased requests that I knew would get me off, but I would have liked to match him in notching up the orgasms (ha. competitive rubbish.Yes, I know sex isn't all about the orgasm.) So yeah, much fun. Plus, I get the feeling it'll get better as we play some more (as well as venturing into realms yet undiscovered by yours truly.) Part of my hesitation about this all is that I feel like he's getting waaay more into me than I am into him. I don't think that he's under the impression that I'll be exclusive (I should clarify this before I cause trouble, though... not that I anyone in mind) but he started talking about stuff way in the future, and that made me nervous (I don't like to make assumptions and/or promises I can't keep.)
I think my issues with it were also heightened by the aftermath of my usual strong wave of emotion when J called (before going to the cottage Sat night.) Whenever I'm on the phone with him I feel so dumb, like there's so much that I want to say but it all disappears, and then I'm just overcome with the yawning gap in my chest where a bit of my heart feels like it's been ripped out. (Wow, way to go me: I've got the angsty emo drama down-pat-- but we knew that already.)
Also Saturday before returning to the cottage, my mom asked me about whether MSR was a gay bar or not, so I told her, and she reacted weirdly, and said something like "but I thought you were bi", which was really fucked up and made me really upset. I ran away for a bit, and then soon after approached her and asked her what she was talking about. She said that she thinks that I'm very susceptible to my surroundings, and that if I was only going to gay bars all the time, then I wasn't giving myself an "equal opportunity", as well as the same old stuff about it being a hard lifestyle. I acknowledged that sometimes I can be swayed by my surroundings, but I told her that I was going to dance and relax, and it wasn't her choice, or my choice. I kind of wish that I'd said that maybe this was my balancing, my "equal opportunity" if you will, of the years of straight dating JF. At some point, I also remember pointedly asking her if her concern had anything to do with the possibility of not having grandkids by me (she didn't answer.) All in all, her reaction appalled me. For someone so liberal, she's so close-minded when it comes to her daughter... but then, at least I'm able to tell her, I'm so thankful for that.
Today, my eating was fucked up majorly. But hey, that's what Easter is for, right? By all rights, I should have thrown up around twice by now. With my eating habits, I'm really surprised that I'm not so much bigger than I am... I can't even sleep (or am not even attempting to) because I have so much sugar coursing through my veins... it's really gross. More than putting on weight, it's this weird-ass binge cycle, this lack of a grip on self-control, that scares me. I really need to establish my self-trust, and my therapist gave me an eating plan to help that, and instead I fuck it up royally, and I feel that much worse for letting someone else down as well as myself. (But berating myself will only make it worse. Tomorrow is a new day.)

Mother Nature's sewing machine

2009-04-05T06:43:00.000-07:00

[hearts will hold ](Jason Mraz)

Yesterday I received another shocking tsunami wave of emotion, turning the corner into S's driveway to see a car that I thought was J's. I think I'm doing just dandy, and I am, but then these break me down for a little bit and I have to take some time to rebuild my oceanfront walls with some new mortar. I have to admit that last night I cuddled a certain stuffed animal in a manner I haven't cuddled one in years-- I didn't even let go in my sleep like I usually would. Then I woke up, agitated, and wrote a poem for the first time since November 30th (I can't believe it's been that long, that's tragic.) I haven't re-read it again, so I don't know if it's any good or not; I presume it's the usual caliber of the poetry I write when it's been a while (i.e. poor; it takes me a while to get back into the swing of it.) Needless to say, I'm experiencing a bit of tumultuous sensation this morning.

On a completely different note, Friday was a trip. I went dancing with SJ again. One thing I love about doing that is that as of yet I have not changed my clothes from what I was wearing all day (aside from removing layers), there's been no aspect of cultivation of a certain impression. In the past, my dressing up/manipulation of impression management (to be all social anthropology on it) has kind of annoyed me, as it usually does when I feel like I'm changing myself to please others (not that me dressing up is expressly changing anything about myself, since I do that anyway, but if I decide against something I love just to upkeep some impact I believe I'm having with one style, it's not true.) What I mean to say is that I've been dressing myself, from one spectrum to the other, and being accepted (will revisit this.) Anyway, Friday night. As with most of my interactions, there was a teensy bit of awkward to begin with, which-- as the dancing commenced-- soon dissipated. There was a little bit of rope, but only for a minute, and a chain for a quick second too, but nothing like the other night (the prospect itself was pretty exciting, though.) It was still amazingly hot though, especially when I finally figured out that he was packing (oh man. There were a couple of times where we might as well have been fucking in the middle of the dance floor. It felt obscene [and so, obviously, I enjoyed it even more. hehe]) A few times, in between or during dances, the way he said 'fuuuck' or shook himself as if my hotness was too much to take made me play certain things up even more (yes, I am a tease.) Later, as we were saying goodbye, we were both so worked up-- he had me growling-- I was about ready to fuck anywhere, but it was not going to happen. We did make a tentative plan to meet next week, though, when he'll be house-sitting for someone...

Saw S last night, wonderful hugs ensued. As I came home yesterday I realized that I expect people to get tired of me, or that I will always be more enthusiastic about them than them about me. I suppose it's social paranoia that's a hangover from middle school/high school drama, but it seems odd that it's such a strong feeling, though I have plenty of evidence to support the idea that I am a lovable person and an enjoyable one to have around. I keep feeling like any day now they're going to find the "real me"/some reason to not like me, latch on that, and it will all fall into the same familiar pattern of dodging. I recognize that this is a somewhat unfounded fear, but it's interesting to observe.

Also, (unrelated) I have noticed that my appreciation of electronic music increases with proportion to my age. My hypothesis is that happens in many people, but the basis has to be from quite a dislike of electronic-based music (or maybe just what techno I encountered in Italy at ages 6-10) for any comparison to be made.

Another thing of note that occurred yesterday: As I was walking with G&AD and S&C (grouped according to who was holding hands) I acknowledged that sometime in the past I would have been made to feel lonely in that situation. Instead, I felt fine, felt like I didn't desperately need to have anyone to hold hands with right now.
(Later, we all held hands, that was pretty cute.)

We looked like giants in the back of my grey sub-compact

2009-04-02T15:55:00.000-07:00

(Death Cab for Cutie)

JF called me today. That in itself is actually a pretty common occurrence-- we talk quite often. Today, though, it was a little different. He had been out all day in Bath with his uncle, who was taking his friends and loved ones there to thank them for supporting him through the death of his wife this time last year. So JF was in a very contemplative and emotional mood. He said he'd been thinking about all the people that are most important to him, and that's why he called me, and said that he loved me. The call wasn't all emotional outpouring, though, there was also a fair bit of our usual teasing each other and whatnot (at one point he said that even if a hit man came at me with a kalshnikoff, I'd be able to kick his arse if I was armed with a couple of balloons. [I am a wicked balloon-dueler. I'm also pretty adept with a pair of mittens.]) But then he started talking about me coming to London in May, and what's going to happen between us and whether I thought anything would happen. I told him nothing was going to happen, that we are just friends now, and he said that I couldn't rule anything out. I told him (repeatedly) that I didn't know what was going to happen, but it made me very nervous that he expected something from me. While we were talking and afterwards, he made me sad, but now that I think about our conversation more, it just makes me angry. Angry that the only attributes he ever really talks about missing to me are my pretty face and my ass, never mentioning anything about my intelligence or humour (that 'u' is intentional.) Angry that he didn't listen to me when I said nothing was going to happen, and that he didn't respect that as my decision. Angry that he still seems to think that our relationship was so la-di-da wonderful, when in reality it wasn't healthy for me in the end and I've told him this so many times. Angry that he had the exact reaction that I had predicted when I mentioned that I was going to meet up with JB ("Oh, so you're going to meet up with [JB] and have sex, then, are you?") Angry that he tried to make me feel guilty because we supposedly never had sex when he was cross-dressing (in actuality we did, but we took off the clothes before we actually got down to business, which was the protocol if I dressed up in a corset or anything, too.) The conversation was like a recap of our relationship: starting light-hearted, loving, and joyful; proceeding into misunderstanding, not listening, and frustration; and ending with no closure (and JB thrown in there as well-- how apt.) Most of all, it makes me really sad that he can't just think of me as a friend that he had a history with.
*deep breath*
I was having such a good and/or productive day, as well.
------------------------
On the plus side of the day, my brother asked me to be a witness for him and his girlfriend's civil ceremony, so I'm pretty happy about that. I love that they're just having something little and then a crazy-ass party in Italy to celebrate, rather than the big, white rigmarole that my other brother and his wife made us do (all the while treating my mother like poo. Can you tell I'm bitter?) If there was anyone who would ever make me believe in marriage, it's them (not in a religious sense-- I know a large reason they're doing it is the legal benefits as well as showing commitment to each other.)
-------------------------
I feel weird now, like I've done something wrong. Like I've cheated with JB again, except this time I actually feel guilty.

Is it May Day?

2009-03-30T17:29:00.000-07:00

Because there are red flags everywhere today.

So. Date with Sy was okay, better than I thought. We went to dinner at R. Thomas, which is kind of a kooky place but I was tired of all the usual places. I had convinced myself that she was more unattractive than she is, so that was a pleasant surprise (hey, I know it's shallow, but I also know how dancing can cause me to make some very bad choices, and I don't just mean looks-wise.) She got me to talk, which can sometimes be a feat. But there were a couple of things that make me even less than enthused about dating her:
1)She only orders the chicken, wherever she goes, and she cooks it at home, too. Even when I ate meat, I thought that chicken was boring. Signs point to lack of adventure= bigs points lost.
2)She said she can't do anything without a schedule, and balks at spontaneous plans. *red flashing lights* I need to be spontaneous, I am somewhat of a "free spirit", that just happens to habitually lock herself in a study-mad schedule.
3)Insecure texting/communication patterns: she texted me earlier today saying that she had a great time and that she hoped to see me again soon... and I, not sharing quite the enthusiasm, put off replying to her. Then, after I return to my piles of clothes, books, and papers that I call my room, I see that I have a text asking if I received the one she sent earlier. A bit too intense for me. (Although, if I were into her more, it probably wouldn't be. As is, I'm a little irritated by it. It's like clinginess before even going out.) This, in combination with her possessive swooping in after my one song of dancing with SJ that night, makes me more than a little wary.
Clearly, I'm not really wanting to date her. But, I also suck at turning people down, and don't really know how-- at least, not face to face. I'm thinking that I don't really have a lot of time to meet up with her anyway, so it's not going to be a huge issue, but I need to be able to just freaking say shit like this, so I'm going to think of how to phrase it. *shrug* I'm not really that bothered about it, though, which is just kind of indicative how tepid I feel on the whole matter.
So far, my experience of dating is a little iffy. But that may be because I'm pretty picky about who I want to spend vast amounts of time with. I'm good for short flings-- in that case, I don't have to be crazy about people-- but there are relatively few people that I actually get mad for. That's when I get scary and obsessive and fall hard. I don't know that I ever 'pick myself up' from those falls, either. I feel like I keep a little piece of my heart reserved for those special people (maybe that I have always ended things on a good note is part of that.) Fortunately for me (and other people, I guess), I have a very large heart. I wonder if I settle down with someone, if that someone will have the last reserved parking space in my heart. I wonder if that's possible :P I love to infinity? (Funny, not too long ago I was grappling with whether I believe in love or not. JB wrote some awesome stuff on that, which I will re-post sometime soon.)
"My heart won't stay entirely in this ribcage" -The Weepies, "Take it From Me" (did you really think I'd go one post without a song reference in some capacity? ha.)

Every twelve seconds, someone remembers

2009-03-29T09:06:00.000-07:00

(Ben Lee- All in this together)
Week whooshed by. It's been crazy busy (Physics test on Monday, Chemistry test on Wednesday night from 9pm-11 [that was my fault, it was a take-home.]) and fun. Went dancing twice at MSR... I forgot just how much I love to dance, plus getting attention is always gratifying. (Ha, typical Leo.) I've had some flirty correspondence too, with cisguys from the Martin (the ones that I didn't have any relations with; none from Tor) one of whom said something about how when he first met me he thought I was an amazing, elven, pixie with great style, and that since I've known him only positive things have been added to that list. The other one and I were discussing the possibilities of me dressing up as either Leeloo Dallas (5th Element) or Emma Frost (X men comics/ TV show), both of whom wear rather little. Dancing involved some make-out time, too (more about that below.) I also have a potential date with SS, to watch Coupling= amazing. Oh, and I have a date with Sy tonight (eh. more about this below, too.) Attention is coming from everywhere, and I plan on just basking in it a while, rather than being overwhelmed and maybe a little scared as I was before.

Speaking of Leos and getting attention, here is what msn said my horoscope for today was: Your love life is a kaleidoscope of shapes and colors today, dear Leo, full of complicated patterns and ever-changing displays of beauty. Everywhere you turn, a new perspective is revealed, and you learn something new about yourself and the people you are involved with. Remain open to the idea of partnership on multiple levels in which you experience different levels of commitment with different people. Every color is needed to make a complete rainbow.
Just thought that was very interesting. I know, we twist it all to fit our lives, but I especially loved that the rainbow came into it, because it encapsulates the different levels and gay pride in one fell swoop.

Went to dinner with S on Friday before we went to MSR, and it totally recharged me. So infinitely grateful for her short stint of the pre-med course: thank you, Universe. I told LJ (not LiveJournal) last week that S was pretty much the reason I was getting through this year, and I don't think that's exaggerating.

Later, at MSR, lots of dancing went down. Some with some cute girls, but ended up mostly being with SJ... it seems if I dance with anyone for any length of time I end up making out with them. That sounds different than what I mean it to, though. I had every intention of dancing (and making out) with SJ. What I was referring to really had more to do with Sy, who in retrospect I probably shouldn't have kissed. But I am a sucker for a good kiss (no pun or innuendo intended.) On the other hand, I'm going to reserve further judgment until our date tonight.

Aha! It just hit me why I'm so overwhelmed with all of this: I have never dated before. I've had a boyfriend, but JF and I got together by drunkenly making out for a couple of nights in a row, and then asking where it was going. JB and I (if that counts as an actual relationship. I have been known to describe my past love life as 'one and a bit' boyfriends-- hehe) also made out drunkenly (though the drunken aspect could have been dropped had we not both needed a bit of dutch courage.) All other relationships/relations I've had have not really started by dating. I am, apparently, pretty easy to pick up (maybe a bit difficult to keep, though.)

Anyways. Dancing yesterday was an elevated version of what happened on the back end of Friday night. SJ and I were there together, not with a group, for one. Also, there was a cuff, and some rope. (Oh My God. Light bondage+dancing+in a public space [with my exhibitionism]= so fucking hot. Add some kissing in there... yowza.) Then later, he gave me a flower (the first wildflower in his garden, apparently) in a little glass coke bottle, which was super-cute. Overall, a nice blend of kink lite and sweetness made for a good night.

Oh, and I also went out to dinner with a bunch of people from my course, and I outed myself to JP talking about MSR and meeting Sy today (She asked me if it was someone special, I think she kind of knew already-- she has some good gaydar) which was cool, but a little odd being at the table across from Q and next to P, who had just been talking about people being lesbians for 4 years while in ASC as if it were an actual phenomenon where they got out of the school and then completely reverted to heterosexuality. (I made faces behind his back. So mature.)

J called me yesterday. I've been averaging maybe 4 hours of sleep a night, so I wasn't at my most coherent... plus I always feel such a strong surge of giddiness and intense desire to please when I talk to him (still) that I get all tongue-tied or babble about stupid stuff. I'm getting better at just bluntly acknowledging to myself that I miss the pants off of him. Last week I was getting all depressed thinking about having to live in Atlanta for longer than I had planned, but there are aspects that have their pluses about it: a)more S time, b)no rent, and c)increased probability of seeing J again. I'm even thinking it may be a good strategy for med school to apply to a state school (cheaper, too.) I wouldn't have to live here for the rest of my life. (in fact, I know I wouldn't)

There's always something more to write about, but Biology reading calls.

Also, I have noticed that when I sing along to that ridiculous "I Kissed a Girl" song, I sing "hope my girlfriend don't mind it" (rather than boyfriend.) Interesting. (but then, I also sing, "we named our children after stars that we'd never been to" for Modest Mouse. hehe.)

Then somebody loves you just enough

2009-03-24T18:30:00.000-07:00

(Bernard Fanning, from Powderfinger)

Today was a tough day. I woke up from a dream about being molested (very vivid, extremely disturbing.) to groggily drive to school and sit through chem and bio, all while feeling nauseous and guilty about food and anxiety about the test I have to turn in by Thursday morning. Then I got a text from J (a million minutes late, because the Science Center apparently sucks whatever signal there is along with a few souls.) For the past three weeks I've been diddling along, trying to get on with whatever approximation of living I've been doing. Today, I realized to what extent my ways of coping with saying goodbye involve forgetting. Trying to forget the way it felt, so that I can't compare it to the present; trying to forget that I even met him, that we ever interacted... which is horrible, and really sad. It's not that I actually succeed in the attempts to forget, but after all the goodbyes I've said in my life, why am I unable to look back and reminisce without the poignancy, the nostalgia becoming overwhelming? Why can't I just enjoy the re-hashing of scenes and sensations (insofar as much as possible) without wishing to not be in this moment (which is definitely something I want to avoid)?
With this goodbye, in particular, I have run the gamut (so to speak) of reactions: I've been angry, sad, hurt, and even relieved to some extent (the latter mostly being because I was having trouble focusing on studying, when I need as close to a 4.0 I can get to apply to med school-- so far, I'm at a 3.89, or something.) But today, (and the other day), when I heard from him spontaneously, when I was alerted to the fact that I'm still on his mind despite everything that's going down in a new and exciting place, I was struck. Struck by how much I miss him, by the very fact that I'm important, by how much I was holding back, by the strangeness of my mode of coping, and by how it seems so callous. No wonder I'm afraid of being forgotten, when this is the way I deal with things. I braced myself for a big reaction at the beginning, when I thought I had time to deal with it a little more... but now is when it's hitting me, when it's been three weeks or so. So I try to deal with studying for my tests and struggling with myself for control of anything, when in actuality all I really want to do right now is write and cry and sleep and draw and dream, and then maybe go dancing when I wake up.

This is not [my] year

2009-03-22T18:54:00.000-07:00

(more Weepies. There may be a bit of an obsession going on there.)

Actually, this isn't a downer post, despite the title. (That just happens to be the song that's in my head right this second, which is often how my blog gets titled. It's kind of like providing you with my internal soundtrack.)

I don't actually have much of a point to this post, either. (I know, you must be thinking 'does she ever?') I just felt like I wanted to blog, as a release from studying for Physics all day (test tomorrow, whoopie! I'm still going to run before class, though. If I don't know it by now and all that jazz)

Yesterday I was meant to stay home and study while my parents went to someone's house for dinner. Instead, I went out with S, because I knew that if I stayed home I'd just end up eating and eating and eating as I had been all day and getting increasingly angry/frustrated at myself. So I went to immerse myself in some Atlanta queer culture and play with my newly-discovered (possibly dangerous) toy. By which I mean my attractiveness. Seriously, I knew I was pretty, but there are some very strong reactions that I am not used to at all. In MSR some woman was making her way across the dance floor and stopped right in front of me and said "oh, wow." 'Oh, wow?', I was thinking, since when did I garner a reaction like that? I remember going to straight clubs and thinking that I wasn't turning any heads at all (maybe I've written all this before. Sometimes I lose track. Bear with me if I have.) Excuse me, I'm just a bit amazed. I always thought I was ugly growing up, or just too chubby/fat for any prepubescent boys or girls to openly fancy me, at any rate. All this is a learning experience, and I think this might help me get over how shy I am with people I fancy.

Anyway. There was one girl I danced with that I wanted to get the number of, but didn't (she might have tried to find me later like she said, but I was outside for a bit... who knows?) and then another that I danced with who I did get the number of and also some kisses. Let me just say, I really love kisses. Maybe it's my oral fixation, but it's just... a good kiss really makes or breaks a lot. (and sometimes it's not worth the training. On the other hand, sometimes it really is.) There were a couple interesting moments from the night that I wanted to note(ok, more than a couple, but these are my choices):
One was when I smiled at someone going past me in the crowd at the burlesque show. As she went behind me, she ran her hand down my spine. Oh, so sexy.
Another was more just an observation of insecurity/staking of territory-- when I was dancing with SJ for the song he requested, Sy (no last name to make reference by initials, so this will have the suffice for the moment.) hovered around (not dancing), and then as the song seemed to end, swooped in to grab me from SJ. Kind of cute, kind of sad, and kind of creepy all at once. Made me feel a little like a commodity, which I most certainly did not like. I'm not sure the attention I got paid quite made up for that, either. I guess I should talk to Sy about not wanting to date seriously at the moment.
The last thing I wanted to note was when I was dancing with SJ he put his hand on my hips and pulled my belt loop toward him so I would be dancing on him, which I liked rather a lot. Maybe I was just majorly turned on by that point, but the fact remains that I found it rather sexy.
Oh, and one last thing-- of the people that approached me/ danced with me, they were smart. B, the girl I didn't get the number of, is studying for the MCAT too (to take it in July), and Sy is a math teacher. How refreshing, after meeting thick people on the pull at other times. (Now that I really think about it, though, how many times have I honestly been on the pull? Not all that many times. I have spent some time with people with not all that much up top, I must say-- predominantly, TG comes to mind.)

Of all of this, I want to try to remember that I am in control. I'm not going to string anyone along, and I'm not in a place to play games.

(Shit. And I should go over these equations one last time before beddy-byes.)

You're not a baby if you feel the world

2009-03-15T18:01:00.000-07:00

(The Blow)

Yesterday I was utterly unproductive, and was getting increasingly angry at myself for it (as well as pissed off and upset about pretty much anything that presented itself to me) so I went for a run. It was good, as per usual, and I felt an odd ability to disconnect myself from my music and think, which sometimes I have a lot of difficulty doing (if the music doesn't fit with my mood, especially.) At one point, I felt such a huge surge of emotion that I started crying, whilst running. Then, a few minutes (or was it seconds?) passed and I was laughing at some thing or another. That's one amazing thing about weaning off of my meds-- I feel such a large range of emotion, it's like waking up after years of being asleep. I have also wondered in the past whether my ability to come has been affected by weaning off of meds. I know it's definitely different than when I was on the birth control that killed my libido, and I know I felt more when I went off the second med that psychiatrist had me on (oh man. At the time I stayed with him because he was helping some aspects, but he blatantly ignored that I might have an eating disorder just because I seemed to be a healthy weight. What a fuckwad. Story of my relationships that I stayed with him, I suppose.) [On a related note, I'm going to try skipping nights with my meds, since I can't break the 1/4 any more.]

Anyways, after said run, I found a missed call and a text, the latter inviting me to a queer party, which I heartily accepted the invitation. I figured, if I was going to be unproductive, I may as well have fun doing it. So I went, and had a somewhat bizarre time. S had mentioned a long time ago about how she thought the queer scene here would love me, but I never really took it seriously. Yesterday, though, I got so much attention. I'm an attention-whore, and I know it, but I really didn't know what to do with it. That's a whole lot more potential power than I'm used to wielding (at least, in a group setting) and I felt very and extremely naive. I got my shoelaces tied together, I got my hair played with (and tugged), I got snuggles, I got comments that I was cute from people that apparently only usually notice bois, offers of cooking... for someone who is somewhat shy in new situations, I was a little overwhelmed, to put it simply. But I had a wonderful time. It makes me think of when I was much younger and MS was speculating about how I need to be careful when I discover how pretty I am, because I could do some dangerous things to myself if I didn't know how to wield it. And I don't know how to wield it, because-- as silly as it sounds and as often as people tell me-- I sometimes have a hard time discovering it. (It should be noted that at other times I do know it, and strut around like a right old prick.) It was a very interesting experience. I'd like to learn how to react a little better, I think I was just a little amazed and taken aback at the time.

Today was not a huge amount more productive, but I did get my chem lab done (at 6:10. I had been "working" on it since 12.) In between "working" I was thinking about the economy and brainstorming little ways that I could help, at least my family:
*go through my stuff, pick things that I need and get rid of the rest (either selling, charity, or re-using in a different way)
*volunteer (at Grady-- which I have an interview for tomorrow. eek!-- and/or at foodbanks)
*wearing more layers and turning the heat down (so glad spring is coming)
*not buying more music
(the next two are kind of embarrassing and ED related, but:)
*fit into my clothes so that I don't have to buy more
*eat only what is necessary so that we don't have to buy as much
*be healthy so that we don't have to pay medical/dental/whatever bills
*turning off my computer so that I don't use as much electricity
and
*not being afraid to cook, so that we can use some of the resources of our cupboards (we always joked that they were stocked for an apocalypse)

also, I was reading a Psychology Today article that said that there were three practices that would help deal with the stress of economic crisis: deep breathing, light exercise, and listening to music. Sounds like a good idea to me :)

Taken out of context I must seem so strange

2009-03-13T09:24:00.000-07:00

(Ani DiFranco)

Yesterday I went to an event about "Transformative Justice" which was interesting, though I wanted more: it was too much of a teaser for me to feel fully satisfied. What really sparked me was the way they begun: they asked everyone to share their name (which they subsequently remembered, I loved that) and one way in which they have observed the economic crisis cause an increase in violence in their community. As we went around, I got more ideas-- but as usual didn't think they were worth sharing. Why do I pass such harsh judgment on myself?-- but some people had some awesome ways of interpreting 'violence' that really made me thing. For example, violence to the self: not just self harm (which we all know can stem from the desperation that an economic crisis can entail) but also the choice to stay in/take a job that is not a passion/love, or the choice to go back to/stay in an abusive relationship because (more than ever) it seems like there is no where else to go. I wish I'd had my notebook near me, I could have retained more. Later, over sweet potato fries with Tasmanian pepperberry sauce (yum), S mentioned how my choice to not be vegan against my express will was a form of violence to myself caused in part by the economic crisis, which really hit home. Overall, I enjoyed the event a lot, though I could have done more with a couple hours more (at least) of dialogue and presentation. (Also, one of the presenters was pretty hot-- which was amplified by her clear passion for the subject and intelligence) The only thing that I didn't like was how it reminded me of how removed I am from theoretical analysis these days. It reminded me of the urgency of regaining/retaining my vocabulary and literary ability. [speaking of which: a word I had forgotten the meaning of, but love: maudlin (self-pityingly or tearfully sentimental--COED)] I can't pretend that it won't help me in life, and I need it for my sanity. Now all I need is methods that can be implicated in between science classes and volunteering and studying for MCATs,etc., etc. (Oh, I do love to complain. Life is not bad. In fact, it's pretty good right now-- but that may be mostly because I have lots of reflection time with Spring Break.)

On the topic of reflection, I've been kind of dodging/being dodged by J in terms of communication. Which, considering the email exchange on Monday, I'm not taking personally. As for my side of it, this is quite a common technique for me-- this way it's easier for me to pretend that nothing happened (having a crap memory helps.) Which isn't to say that I haven't been thinking about it. I was at my pseudo-family's house again earlier today, taking care of their dog, and though I have so many memories of that house (Christmases, random days, childhood... those don't just fade) they've been tainted by the faint scent of a recollection, of moans on the couch, of waking up together early in the extra bedroom... But I'm not going there. It doesn't do me any good to dwell on the past, as I should well know by now. I'm trying to live in the moment (well, insofar as that is possible in a culture that constantly demands forethought and planning, and as a pre-med student, to boot.)
Something I wrote yesterday on the subject: "Something about the evening makes me full of nostalgia and regrets-- which may be why it's usually my over-eating time as well. But I am focusing on the here and now: I am waking up, my body is waking up, my mouth feels thirst, my eyes are still crusted (allergies, ahoy!). I'm laying on the couch with a band of sunlight striping across my body, with thoughts of the past flashing in my mind. I'm not fighting them, just observing them, as Osho says to do. Lots of J looking down or away, nothing where we're interacting (probably significant.) My stomach is twisting slightly, I can feel the fan's air waves play with my skin's hair. I am thinking I am going for a run. And not in the graveyard, either."
(apologies for the stream-of-consciousness faults.)
Anyways, I think that sums it up nicely-- life goes on, with flitting images of memories. I read somewhere once that every time you recall a memory your brain alters it in some way, so it's never true to the actual experience anymore. So it's all just a fantasy now. Somehow, to my storyteller self, instead of that being a depressing thought, I find that quite comforting.

When you're dancing through your wardrobe to the anorexic gogo

2009-03-11T19:02:00.000-07:00

(That one's Green Day)

I happened upon some blogs discussing (or dissing, rather) various famous people's outfits (On H's computer, irreversibly nosy and wondered what gofugyourself was-- it should be noted that I did resist being nosy when it came to looking at their camera's past pictures. I got to one topless photo [not of H] and promptly turned it off. Though I admit that had it been of H I might not have put the camera down quite as quickly. Yes, I am a perv.) I am appalled, absolutely taken aback, that anyone can see those emaciated dears as attractive. They look stringy and uncomfortable and overall, miserable. Lord knows I have my moments when I wish I could get rid of lots of the fat on my body, but I have never wanted to not have anything. Not have hips? Not have a butt? No, thank you. I'd much rather have some jiggly than look like a skeleton before my time. F that.

This, in conjunction with me just generally feeling healthy (mentally and physically), is contributing to me feeling a helluvalot more positive about my body. Thanks, crazily-emaciated famous people! I wish I could share some of this with you.

I don't know if you can dance

2009-03-11T15:20:00.000-07:00

(Lisa Hannigan, "I don't know" She used to go out with and sing with Damien Rice. It's cutesy stuff.)

The last two days have been very good. The days before that (from Saturday) were pretty good, too, except for the nightly emergence of my funk. It feels so amazing to be able to live by myself, to choose when and what I eat, to set my own schedule. I guess I got scared of that considering last year, but that really wasn't conscious solitude, it was induced by T going off and disappearing up N's bum. I love them both, but that hurt me a lot. It made me feel like I was not worth spending time with, and I expressed this to T, and she just wrote it off as something that she does when she's in a relationship, saying that people can't change. I really hate when people say that, because I believe that they can, if there's a need and/or a strong enough desire. There are plenty of examples of people changing for the worse, why not for the better? Anyway, I'm going off on a tangent. The kind of solitude that I've been experiencing in the last few days is really refreshing, like what JBa (haha another J) was attempting to cultivate last year. The kind of solitude that doesn't necessarily mean isolation, just plenty of alone-time and being social when I feel like it and not when it's mandatory. The food thing probably has a large impact on all this serenity, and vice versa. I've been eating mostly when I'm hungry, and stopping when I've had enough, and it feels good. I also am eating strange-ass things that I would never dream of serving to my parents without first testing it out, and being vegan. It feels so healthy, but in the good, satisfying sense, not in the "rabbit food"/granola sense. For example, last night for dinner I had an edamame, arame, sundried tomato, and dried mushroom salad, and roasted butternut squash with rosemary and nutritional yeast. Omnomnomnom.

I went for a run yesterday in the graveyard where J and I walked and talked a long time ago... (I just checked, it'll be 2 months ago tomorrow) I always think that I'm going to hash things out when I'm running out, but usually my deep-thinking thoughts are fleeting, like little wisps of dreams that float up between the rhythm afforded by my pounding feet. I end up being more than thinking when I'm running, which is why I like it-- it's my meditation. I never was good at sitting still, anyway. At any rate, there were certainly some fond flashbacks interspersed between the paces. Fond, and sad, both of which I expected. And there was also something else, maybe a sadness that my memory is so fickle and that though it's only been a little over a week since he left I feel as if it were all a dream, as if it never really happened except in my head. (That's why I journal as much as I can-- otherwise I'd have very little recollection of anything that goes on.)

Also contributing to my improved mood is the fact that I shared my J-involved reasons for funk-ness with S, and she was wonderful about it and suggested I tell him, which I did, which of course made things better. I should know by now that communication usually clears things like this up, but I guess I usually wait until it escalates and I've done a lot more to hurt myself at that point. At any rate, it's out there now.

Yay, more planning to see people in May. It's coming up sooner than I think, which is both good and crazy scary, since that means I need to a)crack down on studying and b)sort out applications(and even institutions. Oh bugger.) *deep breath* I will not freak out.

up on the rooftops

2009-03-09T19:36:00.000-07:00

(listening to punk rock...that was all we had--I'm ashamed, but it's Mest.)

Last night, I got in a funk, and went driving with the windows down and music blaring. Then I got a text from MK, who I haven't heard from in ages and was kind of my go-to vent-at buddy for much of my winter break. He asked me how my weekend was, so I told him bluntly: it was great and really relaxing except for that exact moment. So I drove around a lot more, texting him back and forth, and then-- at 11:30pm-- decide that I'm going to go for a walk and he'd be the best candidate for being up for going with me, despite the need to get up at 6 the next morning. So we meet, and walk, and I vent... my shoes hurt my feet, so I take them off, and we walk until 1am. Nothing is resolved (not that I expected anything to be, considering the layers going on, plus him not being involved in the slightest-- usually hashing things out does help me figure out what's wrong, at least, though.)

Then today, I've had a really relaxing and pretty great day, and yet I wind up in a crappy mood again.

I can't seem to approach this in a prose form, so I'm just going to go the easy way out and make a list:
*still worrying about calories and stuff in a way that I would not like to, i.e. in terms of losing weight rather than being healthy and happy
*feeling guilty for wanting to escape my parent's house, while aware that this sentiment is unfounded
*worrying about my knees giving out on me (and all the implications on my running/well being thereof.---I am aware that I seemingly equated my well being with running, but that's not entirely true. Running helps, though.)
*feeling paranoid about my personal interactions (or lack thereof) with most of the people I consider important in my life at this particular moment. I'm thinking this may be a function of me feeling off-balance, since I can usually feel more confident about my interactions when I have a stronger sense of who I am and how I want to perceive myself.

None of these things are new. None of them are things that I have not dealt with before, in some capacity. But given that I am more aware of my previous faulty coping mechanisms, I feel somewhat as if I am grasping at wisps of clouds at the top of a mountain.

*********************
Speaking of mountains, I went to Dahlonega today and hiked. I loved it, I felt wonderful (except a few knee twinges), and it was refreshing. Exactly what I needed before trying to crack on with my work this week. As it gets warmer my idea of camping out on the weekends with my books becomes more and more appealing. I don't know where my tent is, though, which might be a slight deterrent to that plan-- not to mention that it's going to get cold again next week. Bloody Georgia can't make up its mind about what season it's going to be

Falling down to get back up

2009-03-07T19:14:00.000-08:00

I started counting calories again today. Initially, I was going to do it to lose weight again, and I'll admit that's still part of it, but not in the same old keep-myself-under-1200-and-kill-myself-running bullcrap. I don't want to feed into my eating disorder, but I also need to get some balance, and if counting calories helps, I'll do it. I'm approaching it as taking care of myself, though. More of the tone of writing stuff down so that I am holding myself accountable and am aware of what I am eating, so that I am present in that moment and enjoying what it is I'm putting in my mouth. So far today has been very successful, and I'm hopeful for the rest of the week. The plan is to continue like this until I feel stable, and then by then I will have the body trust to not need to count or write anything.

(I drew the picture above today as part of my self-care)

Yesterday I realized another strong fear of mine (as well as rejection): being forgotten. I guess that's why I'm always so honored when friends of mine from Copenhagen or Italy or England are so enthusiastic about the idea of visiting with me, even if we haven't communicated in yonks. And why I used to write--and ideally would still like to be writing (same old theme as all the classic poets, I know.) It's like Shelley (Percy Bysshe)'s Ozymandias, forgotten though he was apparently so powerful:

Ozymandias

I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed.

And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

I don't have an empire or statues or even anything dedicated to me (as far as I know), and I don't need to be publicly remembered. I like attention, but that's far beyond what I want. What I would like is to have a lasting impression on all the people that I have a connection with. I don't need to inspire or change, but just leave a little indentation, a little mental or emotional 'Emma was here'. It's a selfish impulse, but I hardly think it's uncommon. It's like with T in Morton-- I took up the challenge because I wanted to see my effect (that's twisted.)-- and even with A, though in a far broader sense. Or maybe I just want feedback, want to know how I'm read so I can adjust it if it's in disparity with how I want to be? I know sometimes my meaning is interpreted differently than I intend, but is that because the other people are seeing what they want to, or because there's something off with my transmitter? (I just got an image of Batty from Fern Gully, with his little radio wires popping out of his head. I do feel like that sometimes-- though usually in the context of spouting random things because my conversational skills could use some help :P )
"Yo, the name is Batty / The logic is erratic / Potato in a jacket / Toys in the attic / I rock and I ramble / My brain is scrambled / Rap like an animal, but I'm a mammal."
(yep, Batty from Fern Gully, doing his rap.)

I just realized that I quote Batty almost every time I put on my glasses or contacts around somebody: "I can see! It's a miracle!" (I am aware that this may come from something else originally, but knowing how often I watched Fern Gully when I was ickle, I'm fairly certain I picked it up from here.) xD

All this beauty (might have to close your eyes)*

2009-03-06T15:20:00.000-08:00

(*more Weepies quotage. Yes yes.)

I wanted to share some pictures that I have saved on my computer from my many hours of random searching (interspersed)

I wrote Ju a rather incomprehensible email yesterday, basically saying that I can't see him like that anymore because I can't be myself around him. I do enjoy his company, but there's just something about him that smacks of JF, and I do not want to get myself into that kind of relationship again. He took it well, though he thinks it's the age difference. I figure, just let him think what he does, if the whole truth comes out later, then it does. I'd prefer to let it emerge organically than try to gouge it out.

Bit of a freak-out today. My knees ache, which makes me anxious about not being able to run (I keep joking that pretty soon I'll be made out of Ace bandages.) Then, instead of eating my packed lunch and going home to help mom make gnocchi, I went out to lunch with a couple of my cohorts. That part was fine, and the food doesn't make me feel guilty, but I had two big glasses of margarita, and the calories for that shit adds up fast. That's (to be entirely honest) why I stopped drinking in the first place. Plus I'm already over for this week, because I had some (very much conscious) binges earlier in the week, where my eating was almost aggressive, not healthy (in tone) at all. I feel like I've been steadily putting on weight for a while now, and I need to stop that, for the sake of my sanity. So I'm going to go back to counting calories again, until I can gain some sense of control and balance. I'm going to focus on the usual mindful eating stuff, and I'm going to do it in my own company (H is letting me stay at hers while I take care of her cat, so I can be on my own footing and not have to worry about what my mom cooks/the contents of our pantry.) Spring break means I have time to read Osho and do yoga and come back to having some semblance of inner peace. I feel some arting and writing coming on, too. Just what I need before bunging myself into the second half of the term.

Sharing these helps me feel grounded, too. I'm being reminded of things that I love and thus who I really am, rather than who I am when I'm stressed out and all over the place.
Happy times.

Sleeping Rough

2009-03-05T13:17:00.000-08:00

(That's the title of a Berhard Fanning song. Yes, it is my first impulse to use song titles and/or lyrics... for much of my communication, not just blog headings.)

Speaking of communication through music, I made J a mixtape. It's just my thing, I guess. I've always communicated through music-- when I say that the first thing that crops up is listening to Cartel on my bed with JB while the sun was rising again, just sitting there and feeling lost and found simultaneously. Every time I hear "If I fail" I think of that night/those days where it finally came together and what it means that it happened. Whether I was wrong to what I did, whether I regret it (which I was, but only because I didn't break up with JF before; and which I don't. Not a whit. [Hi, JB! *blush*])
The next scene that presents itself is sitting in the car with A, on our way to work, with Ben Lee or Bright Eyes or the Shins or the Knife playing-- all of those songs that we communicated in on those awkward and wonderful rides. A's the only other person that I've ever met that communicates in music quite like I do, and we had uncanny coincidences in our music tastes (Powderfinger, the Knife [beyond just Heartbeats]) I wasn't sure of it at the time, but I think that was a pretty awesome mixtape that I made. (Lord knows I've listened to it enough.)
The mix I made for J is not my best, I'm ashamed to admit-- there's much that I forgot to put on there, and the song order's a little iffy. I blame that on my procrastination, though I'd been compiling potential songs for a long time. It's not bad, though. The cover art was fun, too (physics calculations as a base, a leaf sewed on, my usual melted crayons, magnetic poetry, etc.)
With A and J, I know that on some level the making of a mixtape was to allow some sort of feeling of closure-- not necessarily an ending, but something that I'd done to let them know that I'd thought of them. I don't know why I never did that for JB (though I'm working on one now). Maybe it has something to do with not feeling like I really could without being found out (it's not like JF didn't use my computer almost every time he came over) and not feeling like I had a whole lot of music that he didn't already know. That's less of a challenge now, since I've been away so long, but there's still the impulse to put songs I associate with our times together (EMO.) So when I go in May, it should be finished.

*sigh* I guess I'll get to the actual (recent) personal blogging I wanted to do now.

Sunday was a strange day-- woke up to huge snowflakes wafting down (on the 1st of March. In Georgia. I know.) I went to Waffle House for the first time (not all that impressed, but I also wasn't in the mood for anything sweet, and I'm spoiled in terms of my cheese tastes. Not to mention dairy still doesn't sit wonderfully with my stomach. It was more about the company, though.) Then, at night, my first time going to a lesbian bar... being mesmerized by burlesque, laughing hard, being awkward (in a way I do oh so well), dancing, getting a free spanking doled out by a roller derby girl (with the anorexic cousin of a cricket bat) [first for this, too, and I enjoyed it more than I thought I would-- that is to say, rather a lot.] Then to S's futon to help J pack and fall asleep with him and SS. Odd is the best way to sum it all up. Weird and wild and wonderful... and also fringed with poignancy, with a sense of sad inevitability that something important was going to change.

I woke up on Monday morning without an alarm. I did some sad-eyed staring and, as the time to go to class crept up on me fast, I dressed myself and tossed the mixtape onto the bed. I had wanted to give it to him in a better way, but that's all I could bear to do: plop it down and turn my head away as I started to cry. I wanted to run away and cling to him simultaneously. I hate goodbyes. I felt (and feel) bad for feeling sad, since there are happy aspects of him leaving (at least, for him), so it feels selfish to just be sad. I am excited for him, too... but at that time, sadness was primary in my consideration. I didn't say the word 'goodbye', I couldn't do it. Especially because I'd like to pretend/hope there's a chance we'll get to see each other sometime. But in reality, I should have said it, because it will never be quite what it was. Nothing ever is-- I'm not saying that to be melodramatic, it's just true. Time and experiences change a person so much, even from moment to moment. Maybe next time it will be even better, who knows? There's no way to determine that. But we were saying goodbye to something that was then, who we were at that time. Perhaps someday we'll say hello to what we are in the future. Considering my past with saying 'see you later' to people that I'm attached to (A and JB, for example), I'm not hedging my bets (it's been 1 year and 8 months since I've seen JB, 8 months since I've seen A.)
The past few days have been a little numb. I've been distracting myself with studying for my bio test for the most part. I don't quite know what my full reaction is yet, since I've been bottling it (unhealthy, I know, but since when have I been the poster child for good health?) Spring break is next week. I'll have extra time to think about it, which is both good and bad. I have no plans except to take care of H's cat, catch up on schoolwork, and possibly go to Dahloniga for a meditation/yoga thing with JP and M.

Speaking of yoga and mediation, I really need to write Ju and explain some things. I really don't want to, though.

And while I'm on the topic of men I don't want to speak to, JF is pissing me off royally. I can't believe that I spent almost 3 years of my life with someone that is so narrow-minded, so didactic in tone, so unable to listen to me, so condescending. He expects us to get back together when I visit, despite my many explanations to him that I was not happy in our relationship in the end. He seems to still think that it all ended because I moved away, ignores the whole JB thing as if it was just a glitch, as if I had said it was a mistake (which I never did. I said I was sorry for hurting him, but not for what I did.) I'm about tired of his self-centered bullcrap, especially his expectation that he should be "the most important person in England" for me. He even got pouty that I was staying with AB. Those are the very traits that I despair of in my brother's wife. I'm not going to just sit back anymore. He always talks to me as if the way I am now is somehow beneath him, like I've become some degenerate. *deep breaths* Ok, I'm done.

I'm going to go read Watchmen.

I wouldn't mind me some exorcism

2009-03-03T00:15:00.000-08:00

http://www.nationalgeographic.com/adventure/0603/features/peru.html

I would like nothing more than to be able to purge myself of my demons, my self-hatred, my hang-ups, whatever this is that is holding me back from fully realizing myself. I wouldn't mind taking some dimethyltriptamine and vomiting all over the place-- it would only be a couple of times, rather than the years of other chemicals with almost as questionable side-effects afforded by conventional anti-depressants. Things that pop up in my head as soon as I start thinking about it: a)too much money: it's not like I can afford that and to pay for MCAT prep and med schools and plane tickets, etc.; b)(this one's embarrassing)maybe I'd lose weight; c)When do I have the time?; d)If I went, would I still want to go to med school? Would it matter, if I'd reached that point? Could I learn anything about it if I pursued integrative medicine? What if, along with the guy at UCLA who's doing research about Ayahuasca, I could help introduce this type of thing to people who could really use it, people who can't journey to Peru and spend X amount of money on trying to find themselves as I am potentially allowed because of the relative affluence I was born into? That, for me, is the biggest thing. If I could find myself and stay myself (for I do think that I have glimpses of myself in everyday life, but sometimes lose myself in my obsessions of eating and school and attentions) I would be able to help others find themselves, and that would be amazing. That is what I want to do, why I'm interested in psychiatry in the first place. I've always been interested in integrating different types of therapy into Western cognitive therapy anyway, why not investigate and see what I think this has to offer? It's worth contemplation, at least.

[I have more personal stuff to post, but later. It's 3:30am and I woke up with other stuff on my mind, but I want to process it more before I blog it.]

How do I convince myself?

2009-02-27T15:27:00.000-08:00

I feel horrible right now. I feel tired, unmotivated, dehydrated, and fat fat fat. I know, fat is not a bad thing. But right now, in my brain, I can concentrate on nothing but the bulges of my body and how my clothes don't fit right and how I had a double chin in a picture that my brother's wife took the other night. I haven't been this big in years, and it's really getting me down. I keep wanting to revert, to give in and start counting calories again, if only just until I've lost weight again. At very least, I would like to fit my clothes properly. I don't have money or desire for a new wardrobe.
I know it doesn't make sense. I know there's nothing wrong with fat. I know that I think that certain people in my life are fat and I love them think they are beautiful and I love that they're positive about it. But when it comes to my body, even at my skinniest I felt like I had fat, jiggly, cellulite-pocked thighs. I used to dislike being fucked in ways that made my back fat crease (or, as some would say, my skin.) And now, now when I am (or I feel I am, I don't actually know) as big as I was before I reached my goal weight in second year of uni, I have a hard time reconciling myself with it. Fat is what I blamed all of my problems on in middle school and high school, why I stayed in a relationship that I probably should have gotten out of, why I felt the need to slut myself out to people that I wasn't really attracted to at all. Fat has been blamed for rather a lot in my life, and it doesn't help to have so many people around me buying into the shit that I hate but subscribe to as well. How was I supposed to feel like I was enough for JF when I was fat/chubby when his comments about how hot I was increased a thousandfold when I lost weight? (It should be said that he said that I was enough, but I think you can see the disparity in the pattern, or maybe that was just me being overly sensitive to that sort of thing.) How is anyone supposed to feel like they're enough, in this bloody society where putting yourself down has become a spectator sport? I honestly and truly hate that I feel this way about myself. I want to love my fat. I want to be able to feel like I can be whatever and I will be loved no matter what, but there's something in the way, and I don't know what it is. But in the end, hating any part of myself, whether it's the horrible impulse to restrict (and hate) myself or not, is not conducive to actually getting better and being able to accept myself for what I am.
I need my Sark book back from SC. And possibly to borrow some books from S. And to read Osho. But instead? I have to study for bio, because otherwise I'm going to get another B on my test and I can't have that. Do you think I'm much of a perfectionist? Fuck.

[Blue]berries

2009-02-26T07:34:00.000-08:00

I'm back to the same feeling, this inevitability, this shaking (in all probability soon to be crying) sensation of things being ripped out from under my feet just as I am getting my bearings, feeling like things are right. And the blueberries just remind me, make me think of not knowing what to do once the mix tape was made and given, too late to do anything else but worry and shiver and eat the berries until I felt sick, them bursting on my tongue like little hearts (to roughly quote Sinclair on the Sugarbutch Chronicles.)
Then, it was me leaving. I was going to get in my car and drive away the next day, whether I wanted to or not. And if I had stayed, there would have been nothing for me. I left, and I found more than I ever would have if I had attempted to stay put.
And the time before that, with JB: it's the same feeling-- the same inability to look at someone's face, for what seems like six ages I stare at hands, chests, shoulders... I dig my face into them so I don't have to see what I'm leaving behind, so I can already begin to try to forget the strength of my emotions when I see their faces, smell their smells.
At one point I knew the smell of JB and A, could have vivid flashbacks if I encountered those scents-- but now I can't recall them-- I wonder if I smelled them again (without them present) whether I'd be able to link it back to them. I wonder how long it will be before I forget J's smell, whether I'll remember it at all when it's faded from my skin and clothes. Scent has such powerful ability to conjure memories for me, or to spark intense emotions. Today, there was still a whiff of J when I moved my hand near my face and I was struck-- so sad and joyful and fond, simultaneously.

I realize that this post is a jumble of emotions and words wrapped together so tightly they don't make much sense (being the geek I am, I want to make an analogy to histones and DNA and being so closely knit so transcription factors can get in, but I realize that it would just make me seem even more pompous than I sometimes come across, and not everyone is familiar with the molecular packaging of our genome. Yes, I am a nerd of monumental proportions, and I love it.) Notwithstanding, the emotional outpouring is going to continue for today, because I feel all a-jumble, and I don't want to pretend I'm feeling something I don't, or present a person, or anything phoney (oh Holden*, you dickhead, I love you.) like that. I'm also lacking sleep, which helps take off what little filter I have.

I keep hearing a loop of that one line in that (admittedly pretty poorly written) Mae song that says, "this time is the last time, be here, here now"

More Fair

They left me

with your shadow,

saying things like

Life is not fair

& I believed them

for a long time.

But today,

I remembered

the way you

laughed

& the heat

of your hand

in mine

& I knew that

life is more fair

than we can

ever imagine

if
we are there to live

--StoryPeople

*Holden Caufield, people. Catcher in the Rye?

Two completely unrelated snippets

2009-02-24T13:57:00.000-08:00

I accrue things like this that I like. So I thought I'd share:

And among the crowds, someone asked, "what about of beauty?"
And the prophet responded.

"We have heard her shouting among the mountains,
And with her cries came the sound of hoofs, and the beating of wings and the roaring of lions."
At night the watchmen of the city say,
"Beauty shall rise with the dawn from the east."
And at noontide the toilers and the wayfarers say,
"we have seen her leaning over the earth from the windows of the sunset." In winter say the snow-bound,
"She shall come with the spring leaping upon the hills." And in the summer heat the reapers say,
"We have seen her dancing with the autumn leaves, and we saw a drift of snow in her hair." All these things have you said of beauty.
Yet in truth you spoke not of her but of needs unsatisfied, And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy.
It is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth, But rather a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted.
It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear, But rather an image you see though you close your eyes and a song you hear though you shut your ears.
It is not the sap within the furrowed bark, nor a wing attached to a claw, But rather a garden forever in bloom and a flock of angels for ever in flight.
People of Orphalese, beauty is life when life unveils her holy face. But you are life and you are the veil.
Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.
But you are eternity and you are the mirror.

Khalil Gibran

And this one:

"When two people of few words get together you'd be surprised how much gets said. There's a lot of staring off into the distance or down at boots rolling spark plugs around in the gravel, but it is all part of a mutual understanding of quality patience that is really beautiful to witness." http://jasperjvalentine.blogspot.com/2009/02/first-annual-ellington-pride-festival.html

Beautiful.

Mardi Gras, indeed

2009-02-24T07:33:00.000-08:00

(just in case you are not familiar with what Mardi Gras means-- aside from boobs, king cake, and beads-- it's French for Fat Tuesday)

There are several things on my mind, but I've been too tired and/or busy to focus and try and process. (Note that I still should be busy, but am not doing my work.) In no particular order:

I have been reacquainting myself with peanut butter, which used to be a trigger food of mine. It's been ok for the most part, but I had a little (subjective) binge yesterday, which was mostly out of boredom and desire to avoid work, plus anxiety about going out to eat with my brother and his wife (yes, I know, I never said my impulses were smart.) I'm trying really hard not to berate myself for it, and to remember that when I go for a run it's not to earn back calories but to enjoy myself and be healthy and present. This morning I remembered that Osho says something about removing yourself from thinking of whatever you're deriving pleasure from is the cause of your happiness, and recognize that it comes from yourself, not some external force. So my goal is to do that when I'm thinking about food and doing my usual quest for a specific taste.

In a similar vein, I was talking to my mom about how I feel like she's always sending me mixed messages about food, because at one point she'll talk about how skinny she thinks I am, and then the next minute she'll say something about me eating so much. She told me that the two are not related: yes, I eat a lot, but I am also skinny. She also went on to say something about how my brother thinks that I am a rail and he's worried about me still (he was extremely worried when I met up with him in April two years ago, which is when I was at my skinniest [and scariest]-- my other brother who, incidentally, also had an eating disorder, never said anything except a few snide remarks about being on a diet. You may be able to tell which brother I like more.)I told her that I have put on weight, which she acknowledged, and that it had gone past the point (for me) of feeling like it was good to gain weight, that I felt like I was as big as I was at the beginning of my second year of university. Which is true, that's how I feel. But instead of freaking out and doing what I did back then (restrict, over-exercise, hate myself) I am trying to make this into something new. I cannot sustain myself, hang my idea of myself on this image of me as something that is not healthy for me. And even in the thick of my eating-disordered haze, it was all under the pretense of being healthier. Now, I need to remember that I am healthy. I can run, jump, play... I am able-bodied and I want to be able to love my body for what it can do, what it does, what it is at this exact second. Wasn't that what I decided I would do around New Years? (I don't do resolutions, but I came to a realization that I need to love myself exactly as I am now, no preconditions, and no waiting.) While I have made some leaps (no more writing down everything I eat-- it's been just over 4 weeks!)I constantly feel like there's so much to do, so much "self-help". In reality, that's bullshit. I am worthy of loving right this bloody second. Yes.

(I'll keep telling myself that.)

Also in the category of leaps, I've been on half of the dosage I was on for meds for three weeks now. I decided to stick it out, and it feels good. Especially to think that I could potentially go off of them and not feel so freaking dependent on them all the time. As so many people forget, meds are not supposed to cure you, they're a crutch. And I've always been one to get off of crutches as fast as possible. I've given it since December '06. I'm in a much better place than I was then, so the time for this peach is ripe. (Ha! oh, I do apologize.)

Right. I'll admit I've been putting off blogging about this, because. That's right, just because. Sunday night was J's leaving party. First thing that happens: knock on door, door opened by SS (no, not Nazi brute force. It's just the way the abbreviating thing happened.) It's immediately apparent that both of us are appraising each other, familiar with J's proposition of a group encounter. We settle down on the couch for some awkward conversation (NB: surprisingly un-awkward considering my record.) Party proceeds, lots of fun happens. By the way, telephone pictionary rocks my socks. There's interesting people around, J is fucked up (remnants of last week's brownies, plus some booze.) SS and I interact for little bits at a time, mostly teasing J and acknowledgments of each other's taste/humor/whatever. At some point in the night, I start to get a horrific headache, which (I'll admit) was probably due to not eating. At the end of the night, we gave S a big hug and... stood around awkwardly. Commenting on the awkwardness, but not really doing much to dispel it (thus build-up of awkward, as Jeff from Coupling would put it, grows like the blob from space. There are no puppies trapped in a car in this case, though.) Eventually, things got awkwardly started (I don't know much about it, since my only other group sex experience went awry when one of the girls decided her boyfriend mackin' on her best friend was too much for her [might I add that her 'boyfriend' was not exclusive and that I was fucking him?], but I get the impression that there's not really many cases when there's not a little bit of awkward.) I won't give a blow by blow, but it was hot. I was reminded of quite how much I love women's bodies, of how much women freaking intrigue me all the time. --Ok, so I'm intrigued by so many people, not just women, but the whole women aspect of it was particularly present at that point. Might I also note that although I identify as not entirely straight (that's the easiest way to put it) I haven't had the opportunity to be with a woman except in this and the aforementioned foursome-gone-bad. So there's that aspect of not really knowing exactly how to do things, an element of exploration, if you will.--
I'll admit that I wasn't expecting that much. I wasn't feeling well to begin with, and I was worried [when I had been thinking about it before] that I would spend the entire time comparing myself to her and generally being anxious. Which was not true at all-- because it wasn't about (for me, at least) just sharing J, it was about sharing her as well. And that was amazing. The only thing that worried me were that she didn't get to come enough. How's that for anxiety? As for possible lamentations? a)we were all tired and/or messed up, b)other people not involved in the house [I like noise. Yes, I do.] c)not being able to do it again, because like with any lover [or at least, good ones] you learn more about how to please each other as you go along.
C'est tout. (I don't know whether you can use it in French, but in English slang translated, c'est chaud.)

I also heard from A last night, he was wondering why he hadn't heard from me in a while (which is weird because I thought I texted him on Tuesday and our communication is usually lots in one go and then nothing for a week. Which typically has to do with the kind of communication it is, really.) He's not the planning type, but I wonder if I could wrangle a rendez-vous from him during spring break... (wrangle, A's in TX, get it? waa-waa.)

Et maintenant, je cours. (Oh, que j'adore Francais)

Some new-age wisdom

2009-02-22T14:07:00.000-08:00

I got this off of Heather Corinna (http://femmerotic.com/journal/) and it touches on a lot of stuff I've been contemplating of late:
"There is a Tibetan teaching that is often translated as, “Self-cherishing is the root of all suffering.” It can be hard for a Western person to hear the term “self-cherishing” without misunderstanding what is being said. I would guess that 85% of us Westerners would interpret it as telling us that we shouldn’t care for ourselves—that there is something anti-wakeful about respecting ourselves. But that isn’t what it really means. What it is talking about is fixating. “Self-cherishing” refers to how we try to protect ourselves by fixating; how we put up walls so that we won’t have to feel discomfort or lack of resolution. That notion of self-cherishing refers to the erroneous belief that there could be only comfort and no discomfort, or the belief that there could be only happiness and no sadness, or the belief that there could be just good and no bad.

But what the Buddhist teachings point out is that we could take a much bigger perspective, one that is beyond good and evil. Classifications of good and bad come from lack of maitri. We say that something is good if it makes us feel secure and it’s bad if it makes us feel insecure. That way we get into hating people who make us feel insecure and hating all kinds of religions or nationalities that make us feel insecure. And we like those who give us ground under our feet.

When we are so involved with trying to protect ourselves, we are unable to see the pain in another person’s face. “Self-cherishing” is ego fixating and grasping: it ties our hearts, our shoulders, our head, our stomach, into knots. We can’t open. Everything is in a knot. When we begin to open we can see others and we can be there for them. But to the degree that we haven’t worked with our own fear, we are going to shut down when others trigger our fear.

So to know yourself is to forget yourself. This is to say that when we make friends with ourselves we no longer have to be so self-involved. It’s a curious twist: making friends with ourselves is a way of not being so self-involved anymore. Then Dogen Zen-ji goes on to say, “To forget yourself is to become enlightened by all things.” When we are not so self-involved, we begin to realize that the world is speaking to us all of the time. Every plant, every tree, every animal, every person, every car, every airplane is speaking to us, teaching us, awakening us. It’s a wonderful world, but we often miss it." --Pema Chodron
It's also closely related to the Osho I've been reading-- he's talking about something different (happiness vs. pleasure), but it boils down to the same essentials:
"If you are strong, then you are ready to fight. If you are weak, then you are ready to fly, to take flight. But in neither case are you becoming stronger. In both cases the other has become the center of your mind. These are the two attitudes, fight or flight, and both are wrong because through both the mind is strengthened.
Patanjali says there is a third possibility: Don't fight and don't escape, just be alert. Just be conscious. Whatsoever is the case, just be a witness. Conscious effort means, one, searching for the inner source of happiness and, two, witnessing the old pattern of habits. Not fighting it, just witnessing it."
It may seem like these really aren't all that related, but they both come down to what Osho calls cessation of mind, and Pema Chodron calls becoming friends with yourself. To giving up the fight in order to win it. This has a lot to do with many things in my life, from my tendency to want to run away from responsibility(moving from England to WA to Atlanta and possibly back again?), the ways I try to deal with my eating disorder (alternately fighting and fleeing), relationships, the way I communicate... the more I read things like this the more I get sucked in by this promise of calm, of balance.
I must admit when I first started reading things on the same sort of wavelength (the Alchemist, Siddhartha, Osho, the Tao te Ching, etc.) I was more than a little skeptical. But then, despite my doubts, something resonates with me and I feel like they're bringing me back to the resources of my own soul. Which is what I need, and what I want: it always has been my goal to be independent. (I don't mean fiscally.) Reading these has made me realize that I don't need to be isolated to be independent.
-----------------------------
Ok, "deep" stuff aside, I've been making some plans with some of my friends for my visit to England in May, and I am so excited. I get so hyper about it that I will literally scream and clap my hands. Yes, I am a big kid. Yes, I love it.

Did I mention? Don't pay me any attention...

2009-02-22T08:35:00.001-08:00

Apparently I suck at using my scanner, and there is no way to rotate my image. So, I apologize, but if you ignore the Garfield and don't mind swiveling your head 'round, today's Stone Soup made me giggle, so I thought I'd share it. Oh, Beyonce, you do make me wiggle.

Bloggosaurus regina

2009-02-21T07:44:00.000-08:00

Ok, so maybe not quite queen, but I don't know the Latin for princess, all right? I just like the sound of it anyway, it's got nothing to do with the caliber that I think my blog is at.

For my peace of mind (ha! I just typed 'for my peach of mind') I decided to calculate the calories I have burned this week from all my running (Mon, Wed, Fri, and today-- woot!) and try and roughly see if I was balanced in terms of eating calories (I know, I should be focused on what I eat, not how much it comes up to... I'm working on it.) I have burnt around 2,600 calories on those four runs and the little bits afterwards. More than feeling proud about the number of calories I've burnt, though, is this beautiful blooming sensation of happiness that eschews from my chest and radiates through my body. I knew I liked to run, but I forgot how much I love it. It's kind of like the Osho book I'm reading (Yoga: the science of the soul-- I know, it sound hokey but it's got some interesting points.) He talks about how sex is a glimpse of happiness:
"For a single moment you feel at ease. All the miseries have disappeared, all the mental agony is no more. For a single moment you are here and now, you have forgotten all. For a single moment there is no past and no future. Because of this [...] the energy flows from within you. Your inner self flows in this moment..."
I definitely feel this way while I'm running. (Yes, and during sex, too.) I am just there, my feet pounding pavement or earth, breathing and smelling and seeing and smiling.

My dreams know more than I do

2009-02-19T17:53:00.000-08:00

I remembered, whilst rummaging for a piece of scrap paper to do my (food) calculations on [I didn't do them! I'm going to continue to try not to] a scrap of paper on which I had written the synopses of two dreams that I had wanted to write short stories out of. Maybe one day they will blossom into stories, but I quite like the synopses (even if the first one doesn't make a whole bucket load of sense.)

1) A girl, daughter of 2nd or 3rd generation Auschwitz survivors, who desires to have the experience of being in the death camp-- not to learn from it, but to be punished-- to be starved to death and worked literally to the bone. To garner some punishment she goes to Germany and dresses up as Gestapo/in Nazi uniform to provoke the government to arrest her. They do, but their punishments are not enough for her and they have no death penalty, so they send her back to the US for trial, where she cannot be accused of anything earning her the "electric chair" so she stays in jail.
[obviously, this is unfinished--it is a dream, after all. I vaguely remember there being an intense lack of closure, like being in the mollycoddling American jail was not enough pain for the girl. I've got some stuff to work on if I'm actually going to make anything of this eventually.]

2) A girl, just sitting at a piano, someone sitting on her left. Her mother comes in and hands her sheet music, stands on her right. The girl doesn't start, and explains that she doesn't play piano. The mother insists that she remembers the daughter playing excellently, and the girl goes on to inform her mother that when she did play piano it was entirely by memory, that she doesn't know the names of the keys or how to read music. The mother asks about the girl's two brothers, and she replies that none of her mother's children were child prodigies. The mother, almost in realization (but calm) says, "you never were very good at anything, were you?" The girl, just as calmly, hands the sheet music back to her mother and says, "no, I was enough."

"I look so strong when the weight of all the world

2009-02-19T14:02:00.000-08:00

don't take it's toll" --Bayside

Today, when sitting down to lunch awkwardly with my post-bac pre-med cohorts in the tiny, windowless "events support" room, the subject (as it so often does, in this company) of applying to med schools came up. H was saying something about doing research because it looks good and the schools want someone more "scientific minded" (I don't know about you, but to me that logic doesn't follow: you certainly don't have to hole yourself in decapitating lab rats or fiddling with test tubes to be scientifically-minded.) When she said that, a wave of disgust washed over me. Why the hell should I make myself miserable trying to bend over backward to please some impersonal school admissions committee, when in reality what I'm trying to do is follow (quite literally, in my case) my dreams? Then, after some time had passed, the conversation continued on to talk about specific schools and whether they have the option of being taught in the 'inquiry-based' (case study) style or not, and Q got out a freaking checklist. A checklist! I know intense, I do that. She's been in the pre-med-contemplative game longer than I have... but the way she goes about it, you'd think that it was a list of people to get killed before she can make her way to the throne. The whole tone of it just makes me physically nauseous. So, I got up and left. When I came back, they were still talking about it. So I left again. The third time, I came back and H asked me if I had looked at bridge programs in Ireland. I said something (I don't even remember what. Probably something along the lines of 'no, I am not... no... I can't talk about it') I then proceeded to run away to right outside of bio lab, where SC asked me how I was (which is of course my cue to start crying. Salt and water, hugs, texts, and some meticulous gel electrophoresis, and I'm feeling a little more set. But if I think about it too long, I feel like everything is going to come crashing down.

What I feel is futile. And not just in applying to med schools and trying to get the right pre-requisites (extra-curricular, I mean). I feel futile in a lot of the efforts I am making right now (or was making not too long ago): being vegan, persisting in reformatting things before I print them (double-sided) to save paper, trying to get myself to think in different ways... I feel ineffectual, like I could be trying this hard for years and years and the only thing that would happen is I would burn out.

I know this is melodramatic, and that is not totally true-- but, regardless, it is how I feel, and that is true too.

-------------
JF called me in lab. It makes me so mad when he does that. He can't freaking look at his watch and subtract 5 hours from his time, or just doesn't care or listen when I tell him I have school until 5 on Thursdays and he can't call me then. It's the same old bullshit that I dealt with when we went out, and I'm pretty fed up with it by now. After 5 years of knowing him (~3 of which spent dating him) I have had quite enough of not being listened to [there are countless times I have had very long, one-sided phone conversations with him.] I may not speak often, and sometimes what I say can be quite silly, but that is no reason to not listen to what issues from my mouth. If anything, that should be reason to pay attention even more (importance or amusement. Come on, isn't that compelling?) I'm on the same old rant I always am on about him, so I'll stop.

As usual, there's so much hanging over my head to get done, so I'll be on my busy little way.

Where is my mind?

2009-02-18T07:40:00.000-08:00

At this moment, I should be doing some restriction mapping of some recombinant DNA. Instead, I am going to blog. I am excellent at procrastinating, I know. There are a few things on my mind that I feel the need to relieve before I can get anything done efficiently (and I need to wake up a bit more, to boot.)
So I reassessed Saturday night/Sunday morning, and I think I was just being over dramatic and there was still fondness... but as much as I enjoy his company, I don't think I'm falling as hard as I thought I was before. Maybe it's just me doing my usual distancing thing, or maybe that's just the way it is, but either way I think it's healthier for me, so I'm a little relieved. That being said, I'm still planning to keep very busy as soon as he leaves --including during Spring Break, which I believe will not be spent at Cocoa Beach with some of my cohorts because I'm just too different from them. Maybe I'll convince S to go to Fort Lauderdale or something. Or go camping. Or maybe I'll go see A in Texas (ooh v. good distraction)... anything to divert myself, basically. I suppose I should crack down on my studying, too.

A few days ago I sent Ju an email apologizing for being so rubbish about keeping in contact with him. I didn't explain anything about J, I just said some stuff about being a little emotionally messed up and that I appreciated his messages. He sent me back an email yesterday that said that he had been a little worried about me, and that he thinks I'm an amazing person that he has enjoyed spending time with... and then he asked me if I had an eating disorder. His sister and some of his last girlfriends have apparently had troubles with this, and he recognized it in me. He said some (intelligent and eloquent) things about it, and about how he understands in some ways because he's had similar issues except with sex (which definitely raised my eyebrows) and that he's figured it out a bit recently with the help of Osho book he lent me (among other things.)
It hit me really hard, that I am that transparent (at least, to him. There was something later that I'll touch upon.) I certainly don't try to hide it, since I feel like that just feeds into it, but I didn't think I was that apparent (and, it just hit me, I probably think this because I feel like I'm not skinny enough for it to be physically apparent.)

Then, later, when Q was talking about her friend that weighs out everything she eats and is obsessive about exercizing and eating right, I got really alarmed-- it sounded so much like how I used to be-- and said something (almost on the verge of tears) about how I was recovering, and that was why I got so worried. There I was, with Q, M, and H, telling them this, and they had little to no reaction. (That being said, I think if I was alone with M she would have. Q and H are kind of awkward around me, though. Or just in general.) I guess it was kind of out of place, and I didn't want a large reaction or anything... I just expected some kind of response. Like an indication that they didn't expect it, or even something that told me that they did. It just felt odd to have nothing said about it at all.

With all that said, I'm really having trouble these days with my eating. I've been eating when I'm not hungry, when I'm bored, when I don't want to work, when I need a break in between working, when I come home... whenever. I'm not listening to my body, and then I get upset about putting on weight, as much as I think that it shouldn't matter. I don't have a problem with other people having fat. I'm not even attracted to skinny girls (I am to skinny boys, though, strangely enough. But my attraction to guys has always been kind of weird and not about their body at all.) When it comes to my body, though, I don't want it. Or, at least, not this much. I can run again (which is amazing and I love it) which makes me feel like maybe I'll lose a bit again, but at the same time I don't want to fall back into the pattern of binging and then compensating like I used to do. I'm going to try hard to regain my balance without running as a crutch: to be able to enjoy running and not use it to rationalize the crap I stuff into my mouth without thinking, or to feel like I must go for a run to make up for overeating.
I also feel really shitty about my decision to go vegetarian to cut the cost and stress that catering to a vegan was causing my family. I like cheese and yogurt, yes. My choice to go vegan was never about likes or dislikes. The first few days it felt like my relationship with my mom was less strained than it has been in a while, so that made it feel a little better. Now, though, I'm just feeling like I'm gratuitously eating stuff that I don't agree with eating. I know that part of the reason my mom thought I went vegan was to make it easier to have my ED... and on some level she's right, but it's not what she thinks. It's about control, about being able to choose to have something that I am ethically all right with and not have to deal with the rich foods that she cooks sometimes. Maybe it's a hangover from the idea that her cooking is part of what made me chubby in high school (even though in reality I know it was the eating patterns that I picked up from her.) The control aspect of it was that I knew I wouldn't get to cook in her kitchen, no matter how often she says that she'll let me. Now that I've taken away the vegan part, I feel like I have less control than ever, so me being scared about that is, ironically, fueling some binges that make me want to fall back into my ED all over again. I did have a bit of a lapse of writing down everything I eat, but not to the extent it was-- really just generally trying to sum up how much I was over and (I'll admit it) thinking about how much I would need to earn to not gain any more. I'm trying to reign in that impulse, though.

One step back to take two steps forward-- isn't that how the saying goes?

Moderation? What's that?

2009-02-15T12:04:00.000-08:00

Last night was bizarre (zarbi, as French slang of several years ago would have me put it)
Partook-- too much: I had my moments of euphoria, but in between that were intense bouts of feeling like my throat was closing up, like I could never drink enough water to quench my thirst (still feels like that, actually), like I was so out of place on the couch with S and J watching artsy trippy porn next to me. Like I was back to the same old middle-school feeling of intense social paranoia. A lot of this is staying with me, actually.
The interaction between J and I seemed a little sour last night. As if it changed somehow; there wasn't the usual fondness involved. Maybe it was the influence of the brownies... I don't know, I guess I'll find out eventually.
After thinking about it more, I am quite happy be doing this casual thing. I'm not in a place to have a serious relationship right now. Hell, if A was in town I know I wouldn't be sticking to one person either. Or J.B... man, the other day I was fantasizing about a threesome with J and J.B-- that would be sooo hot.

Now I am stuck with this fucked up feeling (and physical sickness from binging when I got home) and trying to focus on the test I'm supposed to be taking. I suspect I may end up taking it tomorrow (or at least napping before I take it.)

Oh, man.

how my heart is feeling

2009-02-14T16:24:00.000-08:00

Today, I woke up with an overwhelming desire to go for a run. Though my toe has been aching and hurting me a lot recently, it didn't seem to when I was walking in my running shoes, so I gave it a go-- and went for a proper run. It felt amazing, but my heart is definitely still beating faster than usual, and I have that fun clenchy feeling in my chest from breathing in cold air. Notwithstanding all that, I'm so happy about it.

The other way my heart feels: sinking. I didn't expect to have actual valentine's plans with J, but we did arrange to meet up, and there was mention of cooking dinner together and possibly going dancing, which got my hopes up... Now, after sending a text asking about when we're going to meet up (it's 7:30pm, mind you, which is around my dinner time and past most people's) I got a call saying that he's just returning from a Manhunt thing (which I'm still adjusting to) and that S and him were going to make some special brownies and go to a sketchy store someplace. While he invited me, and I'm going because I love S and certainly don't mind being around them both, that is NOT cooking and dancing. Those kinds of brownies don't count. I don't know if I'll partake or not, especially considering I want to take my Chem test tomorrow. I just don't want to feel this down the whole night. I mean, I'm sure we'll get to fool around, and it will be fun with S, I just... well, I expected too much. To quote Ariel?Ariel!, I have been at this moment before. Many times-- but I won't go into that, because it's too whiny, even for me in an emo-depressed state.
So now, my mission is to cheer myself up before I go out. Hiphoppopotamus vs. Rhymenoceros it is.

Decisions

2009-02-12T19:05:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow will be the marker of 2 weeks since I started trying to wean off of my meds. As much as I hate being on them, I feel really horrible without them, and if I really want to get into med school, I need to be able to focus. The whole physics test debacle is just a testament to it (not a fail, and not even as bad as my worst test last term.) I would have just attributed that to being distracted with J, but then my bio test grade convinced me that I really need to get my butt in gear, and coming off my drugs in the middle of everything may not be the best idea. (OK, so the bio grade was only a B, but I've always made an A on every bio test previous to this. I don't want to mar that.) So tomorrow I'm hunkering down for some seriously scary study time, so I can take my (take-home) Chem test on Saturday morning, and possibly enjoy some of my hard-earned weekend.

Also, I quit behavioral endocrinology (which I was only auditing anyway) because I just can't deal with the workload, and I'd learn more from just reading the book on my own time than attempting to kill myself for the class. I'm just not into that. Oh, not to mention the 6 group presentations we were supposed to give. I did one, and messed up, and that was more than enough.

On a similar note (at least, in my head) someone was talking to me about how I'm doing well in speaking French to her and she thinks that I have the vocabulary, there's just something holding me back. Then, later on, I was thinking about the time in high school when I auditioned to sing Christina Aguilara's Beautiful (okok, but I have self-image issues so it pertains to me, and the two guys making out in the video is hot.) Anyway, I was supposed to improvise a solo at one point, and I just. could. not. do. it. Nothing. Maybe a squeak, and then a sheepish look. Needless to say, I didn't get to sing it (aside from in the shower/otherwise not in public, of course.) So that just made me wonder about my shyness, and how people are surprised when I say I'm shy (probably on account of my hair color and flamboyant dress sense.) What is it that I'm afraid of? In French, if I go wrong, I can get corrected-- it's not the end of the world if I say something wrong (I do it in English from time to time, and that's my native tongue!) As concerns singing in front of people, granted they could say I'm horrible, but is that really all that scary, when it comes down to it? If I'm having fun, who gives a rat's arse?

And now for something completely different
(number one, the larch*)
*Monty Python, people!

I haven't called Ju back, because... well, because I've pretty much forgotten about him. I still have his books, so I'm going to have to see him at some point. I'm too preoccupied with J (notice the distinction, however slight.) Whenever I get a bit of free time off, I want to spend it with J, not Ju. Ju was a bit of fun that provides fun conversation and plays similar word games that I do... but he give sloppy kisses and just... well, it just doesn't fit.

(Conversely, that's how it feels with J; it fits, it feels right.)
I don't even know if it's really just my tendency to be monogamous-- since I still am flirting with A every once in a while... though far less frequently, because I'm more focused on J who is here, rather A who is in TX. Maybe it's a function of my obsessive personality, who knows.

--------
Sleepy time for the girl who hopes to get her Chem test done early in the weekend, but still be prepared enough to get an A (asking too much, maybe?).

My suitcase heart*

2009-02-09T14:50:00.001-08:00

(*full credit to the Weepies for this beautiful image)

This weekend was rough. I don't know if it was just the J thing, or if it was contributed to by my attempts at weaning off of my anti-depressants (and skipping one night, by accident) Either way, I feel shitty and empty and exhausted (oh, and getting 3 hours' sleep to study for my physics test this morning doesn't help either.)

This is something I started last night, and added a little to today. I may well keep adding to it (this is certainly something I've done before.) It's addressed to him.

------
I like it when you wrap yourself around me, when our skin meets and melts and we trade each other's body heat, when you pause in the middle of a make-out session just to look at me, when you kiss my nose, go up on your tip-toes to kiss my forehead. When you ask me to touch you where you said you're not always comfortable being felt. When you say things like you want to cuddle and play all night and wake up next to me.

Sometimes I feel like you're distant, sad, detached, like you'd rather be somewhere else (but only for short snippets of time, and usually not in the thick of it.) Those are the times that make me realize that I just can't read you as easily as I can some people. I wonder at the things that go through your mind, know they must extend farther than just thinking about how hot I am or something along those lines.

My first impulse is to not see you again, now that I've spoken to you about it (somewhat.) To leave you a mixtape, a primal strip, and a brief note and disappear into my studies until I know I really won't be able to see you, and then I can attempt to deal with whatever this is.

And now there's this silence, that radio white noise that ensues from expectation of something coming through. This is what I expected, this awkward part (or maybe I'm just making it that way.) See, that's the thing: being so cerebral, I have a disconnect with what I'm feeling (which has really just been widened by years of depression and eating disorder.) So maybe this isn't as strong as I initially thought or maybe just as I phrased it to you. Maybe I just like you as a person as well as like to fuck you, and you make me feel like every little bit of me is is acceptable and lovable and it feels so good not to hide parts of who I am just to please a lover.

And that, dear, gentlemanly, J, is part of what tumbles through my head when I say that I am smitten.

Life moves too fast, but hot tubs don't heat up fast enough (or at all.)

2009-02-07T05:47:00.000-08:00

Thursday was crazy, class from 8-5 day, with the added bonus of a Bio exam. It was grueling but I got through it, and I think I may have even done well on my test (ok, I am a smarty-pants.) Then, thoroughly mentally exhausted and well aware I wasn't going to get any work done, met up with J
(Note: I realize there are too many Js in my life for this technique to actually have any distinguishing factors between them. Even if I did the first 2 letters, that wouldn't work. Since no one I know [insofar as I am aware] is reading this blog anyway, I am tempted to put full names, but then it's just going to become a saga of what's happening with certain people. And while I'm aware that I'm doing that right now, I also want to, for right this second: it's going to be short-lived, since he's leaving. So for right now, J refers to the person I've been calling simply 'him/he' in previous posts. If anyone I do know actually reads this, they will know exactly who I'm talking about. Which has its drawbacks.)
Anyway, blogging-about-real-life semantics aside, it was awesome. We never had the talk that I had asked if we could have (or rather, he asked if I wanted to have, because I was upset on Monday) but that's because I didn't feel the need to initiate it. Everything I wanted to know was written in the way that he interacted with me: the little looks, the cuddles, the particular ways he kisses me... He actually brought up that we didn't talk about it yesterday (when we were-- once again-- taking advantage of someone else's couch) but I didn't say anything. He said that he wished he had met me sooner. While I know it's going to hurt when he leaves, I'm trying really hard just to enjoy what it is now-- and I know, from these brilliant deductions, that I'm not just a good fuck and nothing more, which makes dealing with it a little easier.
So not much work for my upcoming tests, but loving and living. Fair trade, I'd say :P Now if only the hot tub would have worked...

I hate the phone. Hate it.

2009-02-03T19:49:00.000-08:00

Just got off the phone with him. The phone is evil. It turns me into a babbling fool, I feel so self-conscious and slow. It doesn't help that I just took my medication (which makes me sleepy), so my mental function is not at its peak. Plus the added pressure of wanting to impress him at every turn. Oh, man.

*deep breath* I am not an idiot. He does not think I'm an idiot.
I am going to bed.

oh, and

2009-02-03T17:21:00.000-08:00

an addendum: I do like those one-line ends to posts, don't I?

to the max

2009-02-03T17:09:00.000-08:00

This evening I find myself, yet again, full far past the point of satiety. I am having a really hard time of it, the past few days, and I can't exercise to compensate for the excess because of my toe and because of the time constraints that school creates. Also, I feel like I need to not try and compensate, because I need to learn how to eat what my body needs, when it needs it. I don't want to restrict myself, since I know that will only make me binge more, and I'm not going to create a plan, since that's really just a form of restriction.

Really, what I need to do is accept myself. The way I am. I am a healthy weight, and even if I put on a few pounds I am still healthy. What would putting on weight do to me that I fear so much? I've been there, what effect did it have? I felt less attractive. Not really a problem right now, I feel attractive and if others see that diminished with extra chub, then they don't deserve my attention. I felt like I couldn't do as much physically-- well, right now I feel that way anyway, because of my toe. Beyond those two, I can't really think of much else. So I have nothing to be afraid of, except maybe not fitting all of my clothes (which, if you know me, might be a cause of fear, since I do love my costuming) but that would just mean I'd have to get a little more creative. So there: I have nothing to fear by gaining weight.

It doesn't help this uncomfortable feeling to come to that realization, though.

Try to make me go to rehab...

2009-02-02T14:56:00.000-08:00

Today someone was talking about Amy Winehouse and how she might potentially be sorting herself out because she gave her parents control over her money (or something along those lines. Basically so she can't spend it all on drugs.) The person talking then went on to say that she's never really going to be clean until she learns why she's numbing herself and deals with that.

That's what I'm doing, I'm numbing myself. Why? I'm jealous of the other people included on his adventures, I'm afraid of falling (but who can help that?), and I feel like I'm feeling more for him than he does for me. Wallow, wallow, wallow, I know. This is how I feel. Almost all of today I have been down-- some of it has to do with caffeine crash after yesterday's shenanigans, mixed up with a helping of self-hatred and guilt, but a large part of it is because I know that I don't mean all that much to him, and there's nothing I can do about it. Even just hearing from him for a little bit cheered me up, and then I remembered that he spent last night with some other chick (who I have no hatred against-- in fact, I'm fairly certain she's awesome) and that he's leaving all too soon.

To be entirely honest, I don't know how I'm going to react.

Oh, and another thing: none of this seems real. Any time I leave, the memories fade like the ephemeral nature of dreams-- if I don't write it down, I won't remember it. If I write it down, it's corrupted, edited, changed in a way that I can't reverse. What's the better way to deal? Forget, and lament the passing of my memory as well as whatever this is? Or cling to whatever image of the past I can, fallible as my written accounts are? Isn't it healthier to just move on? Maybe I should attempt to begin this "moving on" process before he goes? Or maybe that will just end up being the same old pushing techniques I demonstrated with J and A and so many others. This is ridiculous. I am ridiculous. I need to live. And if I'm hurting, then I am, and I'll experience it fully.

Go on, hit me where it hurts most.

In which I give in

2009-02-01T14:09:00.000-08:00

Here goes, the beginning of my blogging career. Oh, sure I had a LiveJournal account way back, and a myspace blog too, but both were very short-lived. They were too accessible to everyone I know. I want to be able to blog and have that possibility of it being read by anyone, but without the certainty that anyone I mention will definitely read it (and subsequently confront me about the extent of my TMI-disease.)

When it comes down to it, this blog is as emo as it gets, in the scene way-- bare emotions, left out in the open for anyone to comment on, because the attention is wanted. In reality, I have a journal, and I certainly have broached some of the subjects that are going to come up here, but I find it satisfying to share with others. Maybe it's my extroverted nature. At very least, I'll get some more practice with composing straight onto the computer.

There is a revolution going on in my life.

Part of me, the storyteller, wants to set this up, wants there to be a brilliant exposition so that the entire blog can be a series of rises and falls, plot climaxes (among others) and denouements like an EKG monitor. But that would require explanation, to the extent that I'd feel like it was too much, like ruining a perfectly good joke. So I'm just going to jump into the thick of it, like I do with so many things.

Things from last night that are particularly memorable: How, for once, I didn't want to be pushed around and told what to do; how I couldn't get wet because I was almost afraid (maybe it has something to do with actually seeing how the real BDSM crowd works.)
I'd overstimulated my clit earlier in the day and so couldn't really come from just him playing with it; that made me feel bad for him, like I wasn't as responsive as I should be (I don't know how I thought I should be. Ridiculous expectations, as per usual.)
I tried fucking him, and I liked how awkward yet powerful it felt to wear a cock.
I loved hearing and seeing him come (it almost made me come, in a small way.)
How fond I felt; how I told him that I'm getting too emotionally attached; how he asked me to touch his chest, even though he's sensitive about it; how he said he wanted to come inside of me. I already know I'm in trouble. I feel like I'm falling but it's such a bad situation: he's poly (not that I have a problem with being poly as such, but it's kind of hard for me to reconcile the idea with my preconceived ideas of love or whatever this is), and (much more significantly) he's leaving. Moving away. Bye bye, no more.

Tonight, I am anxious. Too much sugar and caffeine coursing through my body, too many sources of energy from my binges throughout the day. I didn't get enough work done. School is tomorrow. I have a test soon, but I can't focus. He's with her tonight.

This is very different than with T. With him, I knew about the others but didn't care; all I did was take. But this one... this one, I am getting emotionally attached to. This one is having a huge impact on my life. This one is managing to distract me from my studies, even. Big fucking deal, you say. In my world, it is. The funny thing is, before we did any fooling around, the talking was so much more difficult, more awkward. It's like the sex was our way of opening up, of getting to know each other and thus talk more, rather than the usual reverse function that seems to be most other people's mode of action.

In theory, I get the whole polyamorous argument-- I too, have felt, that I have a lot of love to go around, and that it's unrealistic to expect one person to meet all of my emotional and sexual needs. But in practice? I can't really tell: I don't know how much of this is just me being anxious, and how much of it actually bothers me. I do wonder if he compares lovers, though. How could you not? She's skinnier than I am. I hate that it bugs me. Fuck this. I don't want a competition. I am just doing what I usually do, wanting the person that I can't have. Common theme.

Speaking of the body issue thing, today has been my worst day in a long time. Mindless eating, knowledgeable binging, so much energy in my body it feels like my heart might burst if I stand up for too long-- this is not how I want to be.

This is not who I want to be.

What a start to National Love Your Body Month.