Beginning new endeavors

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

[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...

-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

[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

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

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

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

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

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

(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?

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...

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...?

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

['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!

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!

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

[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...

[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

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

{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.