You Are Free-ish

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+600 awkward, painfully shitty story words.

I lost 6.2 pounds in January.  That’s okay! That’s pretty good!  Took some pictures for myself.

Ate flaxseed pizza.  Feeling okay about it.  Very good, but fibrous.  Watching the snow come down and feeling deeply, relatively, quasi-content.

Do You Remember an Inn, Miranda?

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The thread, the drink, the scissors.  There’s a story there somehow.

What is the state of the world todaaay?

Work: Was terribly quiet.  After a flurry over the last few days, there was less to do today and while I kept myself busy, I wish I had a bit more get-up-and-go when it’s like this.  A bit more gumption.  This is the stuff that made the old job worse than it might have been because I was so burnt out that I couldn’t take advantage of light days to get organized.  I just told myself it was Friday and it was okay since the boss was out.  And it was okay.  It was what it was.  Try again on Monday.  I’m also taking off Tuesday for my freebie Birthday day off and I really should not complain about anything ever.  Jesus, I have it so nice there.

Diet:  It has been a month  I am pretty sure I have lost *some* weight.  I’m going to do a bit of cataloguing tomorrow for the next month.  Some picture taking and measurements.  I find it worrisome that I’m going to care too much about the number for a while.  Have too high expectations about what it could be and let that worm its way into me and out through me via my eating choices.  Victory of the Mildred.  Writing with pbandjax has helped a lot to recontextualize some of my reasoning and to bring me back to New Year’s Eve when doing this for a whole year – a length of time that can flatten the highest mountains and fill in the deepest valleys – seemed like the best, no, the essential idea.

You falling desperately in love with me: I have to report that I am less optimistic on that front than ever before though you continue to deserve heaps of affection from everyone (and I would be delighted, ecstatic even, to be at the front of that line), but I am amusing myself with a few other idle fancies on that front.  A few random, unbound characters dancing around where they cannot be counted on the census and I get to sharpen my tongue on them.  It is all very internetty and of no consequence whatsoever, but I needed even a grain of sand to cheer me in this regard.

A few things I’m listening to today – the poem reminded me of this book of children’s poems and Hillaire Belloc that I would read aloud to myself, and my invisible audience (strange how that carries over).  I’m remembering Matilda in particular:

Matilda told such Dreadful Lies,
It made one Gasp and Stretch one’s Eyes;
Her Aunt, who, from her Earliest Youth,
Had kept a Strict Regard for Truth,
Attempted to believe Matilda:
The effort very nearly killed her,

The world at large: I don’t care who is in the SuperBowl this year.  As a Broncos fan, they both seem like shitty choices to root for.  I’m going to go see Ben Howard in a week.  No work, no appointments, nothing doing tomorrow, though. I might actually read some more and dance about like an idiot, and otherwise find a way to spend the twelve hours without completely losing my mind.  If it’s not so bad, it should be great!

Sneaking Music: A List

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My answers from a questionnaire an old friend sent me near a decade ago…

+200 story words

WHAT I’LL NEVER DO, & THAT’S OK:
be an extrovert
talk to any of those boys again and that’s mostly okay
discuss politics at work
feel comfortable in high heels

WHAT I’VE DONE, & WOULD LIKE TO DO AGAIN:
blog on a daily basis both with writing and about my actual life
travel overseas
engage in a philosophic discussion about books (preferably with a Darcy-faced boy)
spend a week just sleeping and writing

WHAT I’VE DONE, & WILL HAVE TO DO AGAIN:
make myself small in the eyes of others
deal with creepy old men trying to flirt with me
take my health seriously
move

WHAT I WON’T DO AGAIN:
allow other people’s experiences in fandom/of fandom/in life cause my own to necessarily and automatically derail simply because they’re well-worded
assume I know what the hell is going to happen with me with any degree of certainty
live unrequited when I have five or more opportunities to get a little bit requited
be a gullible fool who will buy whatever’s offered

And now…

WHAT I’LL NEVER DO, & THAT’S OK:
absolutely love any job
find exactly what I’m looking for in terms of a partner
warm to seafood
get it 100% together
give up dreaming

WHAT I’VE DONE, & WOULD LIKE TO DO AGAIN:
go back overseas (to the British Isles to start)
keep up my pink hair color
write an extensive personal essay
maintain my friendships and spend actual human time with people in a sociable fashion
get things really organized
WHAT I’VE DONE, & WILL HAVE TO DO AGAIN:
pushed myself past comfort and sense
trusting people in a major way to take care of me
get over myself and just complete what’s asked of me
broken out of a vicious cycle
let myself hope

WHAT I WON’T DO AGAIN:

refuse to ask questions when I need to understand or get help
think there isn’t room or time to start again
fill up the Void before I get a real good look at it
think in terms of whether things are possible, but instead, do I actually want them?
feel shame for the things I love or for when I stop actively loving them

WHAT I MAY STILL GET TO DO:
legitimately (whatever that means) publish something

take french/gaelic/guitar/viola lessons
surprise myself
bite my fears off down to the quick
fall in love

Grumulous

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Yeah, so it will not be news exactly to anyone that I was a bit of a waste again at work today.  I don’t know if I am pushing myself too hard or if I’m just unable to complete tasks because the things I need to do are bound up with other things I can forge ahead and conquer like I used to, but I feel a bit thwarted.  Not that was the issue today at all, when I was, after lunch, half-dead after staying up until 2:30 after reinstalling the Sims 4 and playing it like I would die if I stopped.  This addictive personality of mine. Filling the Void as fast as I can so it can’t scare me.  I was good for a few hours, but then productivity went in the toilet.

Work has some stress to it.  It’s a non-profit, so there’s always money stress.  It’s a lot of money stress, too, but I am at least grateful that I am not resorting to food. Mainly because it’s just not around to tempt me. I haven’t had any soda since New Year’s, and I haven’t gone to Chipotle.  These are small things, but I like to affirm them because I feel like I am doing something for myself.  With so much equivocation and worry about dieting perfectly and throwing it and smashing it into little pieces if I eat something a carb out of bounds, I have a couple watermarks I can’t fall below.  I also know that sometime in February, I will get another planned deviation and I can pizza or whatever it ends up being, so I am not lost, adrift, needful and alone.

I’m doing it okay.  It’s not everything going on right now, though it is a lot of it.

I was reading for half a second about plus-size model Tess Holiday and for every yay body positivity comment (don’t read the comments on anything ever, except here) there was someone of no great concern who snidely commented that even though she works out with a trainer, she definitely (read: DEFINITELY) must eat 10 pizzas regularly and that explains her body.  Because if she did all that and ate the right things she wouldn’t look like she does (which is beautiful, by the way.)

And it just leaves you sighing and even more tired because I don’t ask for attention like that at all and bodily attention leaves me shaking in my boots.  Because it feels as invasive as a scapel, these casual comments about how someone can diagnose your inside by looking at your outside.  That they’re doing it all day long, these micro-diagnoses about who is attractive and healthy and acceptable to contemplate, what, breeding with?  And you can’t opt out of their opinions.  Only, I suppose, reading them and it leaves me feeling like this is a long row to hoe, and I’m not comfortable with the place I’m trying to go.  This beady-eyed harpy, this dead-eyed “bro” who thinks they can look at a picture and dismiss a person’s entire life and worth rather than engage with those parts of themselves that don’t want to dehumanize and dis-associate from heavy people.  Who do so with glee and gusto and are the playground bullies all grown up.

That is exactly the generalization they’ve made, though, for “us” and I want to do better.  I just don’t want to find that I’m clawing my way towards the hope I get to look down on others.  Or, equally jarring, the constant expectation of failure that sits in the back of my mind, as cruel as any anonymous Facebook commenter, this voice that knows I’ll never have to worry about internal transformation because the external change is impossible.

Still, I’m eating less.  Drinking water.  Rolling my eyes for exercise.  I’ll just fail my way to the top.

I’m hoping to find other healthier distractions.  I know my exercise bike is sitting there, Eeyore-like, awaiting my attention.  Not today, I’m afraid.

Slowpoke

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Okay, there’s not a lot of time left and I am distracted by a game and the story and all the usual things.

But I suppose what is exciting to say about today is that I’ve lost 4 pounds.  It’s nothing at all, and yet, nothing to sneeze at especially as this first weigh in comes after yesterday’s Mexican extravaganza.  I have back on board, if not as fired up as I want to be.  I was listening to this motivational 8tracks playlist and it was almost too much…talking about needing to care about this diet as much as a drowning man cares about breathing and I am so close to understanding and accepting that truth (because I do think it is true, at least in my case) but right now my only ability is just to not fuck up.   Just to not do something really wrong and awful.  I figure no matter if there’s a bit too much sugar in the seasoning I’m putting on my cauliflower or if my body is reacting poorly to the egg creation with the sweet mustard (even if I’m not putting much in at all), then, I need to figure out how to get around this without becoming pissed that I don’t like what I eat.  That it’s so limiting.  It’s just so much trial and error.  Today I tried to bake kale and I didn’t realize that you shouldn’t season it with your little shake-a-shake-a sea salt before you put it in the oven because that leads to water being drawn out from the vegetable and then, ta-da, mushy kale.  Not the snack I was hoping for.

I also need to do more exercise.  I need to and I will, I’m urging myself urgently in that direction, but at least I’m not throwing my hands in the air.

This is a year-long experiment.  This is a lifelong struggle. I wake up, and fall back asleep, both literally and metaphorically.  I don’t go a thousand percent when there is no reason not to, no constraints to how I want to eat or what I want to wear or any of the details of the self. This is me facing up to that fact, even if it leaves me hiding away from the deeper truth that I have a lot of changing still to do.  A lot of it.  And it’s not going to be fun to let go of the edge of the pool.

What else, friends?  I did some cleaning which made something of a dent in my circle of chaos.  It was noticeable to me, anyway.  I also tried to drink an extra cup of water, which probably brings my total to two or two and a half or something.   I also read a little bit.  I also daydreamed quite a bit, and relished it.

Tomorrow begins another busy week.  I am not where my head should be, but I forgive myself.  I’ve done enough and I’ll do my best once I get there.  You know?