Two! Two! Two Posts In One!

FIRST BIT:

I have such a hard time taking nutritional/wellness advice from overweight speakers or those who just don't look like they walk their talk. Is this my prejudice or a natural human response?

Not entirely in keeping with the previous statement and question, but an extension of the contemplation: I know I have built-in "fatty" hate simply because I used to be so overweight. You'd think it would make me more tolerant or accepting or even pitying. I think one day I will be. At least I'm inching towards being able to feel pity (here we go again with the confusion between pity and love).

Here's my current theory on this: I spent so much time and energy when I was fat (and arguably now as well) HATING myself that I've transferred some of that vitriolic energy to ghostly representations of my former self.

If you're hugely fat, you remind me too much of the person I once was, and I hate you.

Not literally or logically or even consciously. But if I'm to take a long hard honest look, I have to admit the resentment is present.

Everyone is a mirror. Everyone and everything. When you don't like what you see in the mirror, it's easier to blame the silvered glass. It's stupid and misplaced, but it's human. Often I want to change the reflection, but I can't, can I? Serenity prayer and all that.

SECOND BIT:

I haven't been in a relationship in a very long time. Yeah, I had a brief boyfriend/girlfriend thing a few months ago, but it was VERY brief and, well, not altogether "real" I suppose.

So this I've known.

But something new I realized yesterday morning.

I was talking with some ladies about my tremendous weight loss and the inherent identity crisis (or realignment) involved. When the body gets thin, sometimes the mind stays fat. It's progressing slowly, but I still think like a fat person. I still think as if I am a fat person. I still think I AM a fat person. I relate with people accordingly. I don't know how to BE with men (in general) or God forbid in a relationship.

Upshot: I haven't been in a relationship since the weight loss and I don't think the two facts are unrelated.

Too Pissed to Post a Picture

You have GOT to be fucking kidding me with this one:
South Dakota passes bill to ban abortions.

Randomness Not Even Remotely Organized

Image borrowed from this amazing photoblog: Always Curious

Why am I so bloody irritated? Irritable. Irritate-able. Rate-able. Ratty. Natty.

I'm not quite looking for a fight. Am I looking for a fight? I'm easily scratched, that's for sure. It's not taking much to set me off. I haven't really been biting peoples' heads off that much. Not entirely true. Just not as viciously when compared to the "good olde days".

Wow was I a bitch on wheels back then. Except...no wheels. Fat sausage legs more like.

Now? Am I tightly wound Vata? Is my fiery temper Pitta-packed? Do I just need to get laid?

Anger turned outward meant for inward. Reflections on the unknown what needs to be known inside. Maybe I'm afraid to be mushy. My armor is definitely strong, but its' rusty. Trite. Angsty like a teenager. That ain't even worth writing down kiddo.

Within ten minutes: 3 middle-aged ladies. One red, one pink, one blue. Go granny, go!

Spatial relationships seem beyond the grasp of some people. Two shopping carts cannot occupy the same physical space in the universe at the same time. Would that they could, I suppose. Guess that's not so much spatial relationships as basic physics. In which case...they're still morons. KMart is their breeding ground. I've seen the pods, people. They're pod people!

I must be sending out bitch waves. Or talk-to-me-not waves. Or hard-ass vibes. Or something. To men. Women strangers, however, appear perfectly comfortable stopping me for directions on the sidewalk. They stop me on the sidewalk; they don't want directions on how to use the sidewalk or anything. I respond with terse curt one-word replies. What a friendly little fucker I am these days.

Not-So-Missing Links

Some stuff:

• I've been using these again and that's REALLY going to piss Lisa off.
• I miss this guy. I haven't seen him in way too long.
• I really need to make an appointment here and here. But I don't have time. And I don't want to.
• This stuff sucks. I need to find a better brand.
• I'm still working on my site, but it's coming along. I want to totally re-vamp it, though. Make it more "my" style instead of "their" style.
• A shitload of this and more is sitting in my fridge. I was in the kitchen for an absurdly long time tonight. I also made some of this. But crispy style!
• I now have five paying clients, thanks to setting up a table.
• Sam and I almost watched this last night, but we ended up pausing after five minutes and talking all night instead.
• I didn't make it here this week, which sucked. But I did it on my own with a CD today. I set myself up so I was facing my windows and I watched the snow drift past while I stretched and breathed for an hour and a half.
• Stupid shit. Repair dude is coming Friday.
• Other stupid shit. I have to send this one in. So what am I supposed to do without it for two weeks?
• Some people come into your life at exactly the right time and are just freaking awesome.
• Oh crap. I just remembered I forgot to sort through my stuff for pick-up.
• Made me cry two weeks in a row. I LOVE this show.

It's 2 AM and I've been meaning to get to bed earlier. Yeah, that's working out well. I'm gonna' try that now.

They Were Better When I Was A Kid. I Think.

Were the Olympic opening ceremonies always this lame? Why do they need to have the play-by-play commentary informing us of what everything is supposed to represent? Those speed skaters that were like the "spark" of the soul or some shit? Dayum.

And what's with NBC calling the locale "Torino" instead of "Turin"? They don't call "Venice" by the native "Venezia". They don't say "Firenze" for "Florence". Pretentious crap.

Last rant: Call me horrible and cold and unwomanly or whatever, but I don't like hearing children sing. Their little under-developed voices are like caterwauling yaks High-pitched yaks. That serious-faced chicklet that stared freakishly while lip-synching as the flag was being raised creeped me out.

I'm feeling cranky, can you tell?

Long Time No Tippy-Type

It's been awhile.

I've been busy.

I'm glad I'm busy, that's a good thing. Although I feel a little like I'm losing myself in all the commotion. Sometimes it's fun to not recognize my life. Sometimes it's just tiring.

That has been a problem. I'm so TIRED all the time. I'm not getting any less sleep (although many people have argued to me that 5 to 7 hours is not enough to begin with) but I'm more tired than I was, say, a month ago. Maybe it's not anything to do with getting less sleep, but rather I'm doing more in the time I'm awake.

It's tough being a responsible adult. I'm doing all that crazy stuff like paying my bills on time, keeping my apartment neat and presentable, juggling social activities, delving into school and studies, building my private practice. I mean, DAMN!

There's a leeetle bit of my snotty princess-y rebellious inner teenager wanting to be an irresponsible brat. She's rearing her ugly head quite a bit lately. It's like the closer I get to accountable responsibility and self-care, the more she wants to fuck up.

On an entirely different note altogether...

My mom read my blog

Yeah.

If you've ever read my earlier posts (especially "Fucker Mother" and various posts written during the holidays) you'll realize that's not exactly a good thing. I can be a bit harsh. A tad.

Surprisingly, she was cool. Way cool. Yeah, I just said "way cool". We ended up laughing our butts off over my gingerbread house and by the end of the conversation we were swapping recipes. Go figure.

Good Schtuff

Today was BLOODY FANTASTIC.

I finally found the right combination of how to make my school weekends work. Especially the Sundays, which are loooooong. I went to bed at the right time, got enough sleep, had the right kind of breakfast, sat in a great area, and surrounded myself with positive, motivated people.

I even danced at the stretchy break.

I took some risks and they PAID OFF.

I made myself visible and connected with some amazing people.

So, yeah. Good day.

Hee.

It's Out There, Not In Here

Okay, I'm feeling quite a bit calmer now. I'm still as angry as before (and justifiably so) but the aspect of rage has left me.

Although the blind fury is gone, I'm holding the anger awareness. It's appropriate. I would rather be rightly angry, directing the inevitable negativity towards the proper source, than run the risk of turning it on myself. If I neglect the anger, I might get sad or blame myself. I might even forget the content and context altogether and start feeling depressed or lacking in energy. I might fall into an ignorant self-hatred and slip into the kind of self-destructive behavior I am working so hard to avoid.

But that ain't gonna' happen.

I feel better.

Get Ready For Some Anger

I am so angry. I am so furious I want to fucking choke that motherfucker.

I have fantasies of slapping him across the face. I want to shake and throttle him until he UNDERSTANDS. He needs a fucking wake up call.

He needs to know that even if it's okay, IT'S NOT FUCKING OKAY.

Disrespect is too small a word. Why the fuck do we keep making excuses for his sorry ass? He's not "developmentally challenged", he doesn't DESERVE the justifications we make for him. He's so fucked up.

I can't believe I even remotely considered not being angry with him because, well, he's so messed up he just doesn't know any better and I can't possibly hold him to the same standards I would hold a "normal person" to.

FUCK THAT SHIT.

(In)Dependance

There's something I got used to doing for myself every day (or nearly) and I didn't do it today and I'm feeling its absence.

Where can the line between self-care and dependance be drawn? I fear that healthy reliance can morph into addiction.

I am a seeker of healers, helpers and therapies. I am proud of this, to a certain extent, as I feel it reflects my constant desire to grow, expand, learn and change. But can this unending search be nothing more than a distraction, much like the interminable student?

What isn't a distraction, really? Any interest, hobby or activity could be labeled as such, I suppose, if these events are pursued with the desire to take us out of ourselves. Conversely, extreme self-exploration can in actuality become an avoidance of self. Navel-gazing syndrome as it were. Or more perhaps we fall into avoidance of life rather than avoidance of self.

The unexamined life is not worth living...but the over-analyzed life is not free to really LIVE.