why I hate food...

Few things make me happier than cooking good food or going out somewhere nice to eat with friends. However, once I have to actually eat the food, I'm not so happy.

Food makes me feel sick.

No matter what it is, I end up feeling nauseous after I eat. Drinking juices and water isn't as bad, but food and heavier drinks (like milk) leave me queasy. I've tried cutting things out of my diet to see if there are allergies at work, and so far nothing has made a difference.

Perhaps it's the stress manifesting itself in a different form. Wouldn't surprise me.

so far, so good...

4 days into the new year and it's been good...

...my bedroom is reorganized, with only a small-ish mountain of clothes to put back into the dresser...
...my last full semester of college is scheduled and my graduation application has been submitted (yikes)...
...I've seen Saving Mr. Banks and had Chik-fil-A (if heaven were a sandwich)...
...I've been to an amazing art exhibit and had an incredibly delicious dinner at a fancy restaurant for which I was not allowed to pay (which is a lot easier for me to allow than it used to be)...
...the mystery of Sherlock's two year disappearance is still frustratingly unsolved, as Steven Moffat will not ever give an inch when it comes to satisfying fans' curiosity...
..my articles are appearing online and I only have six left to finish by Monday...
...I've had good, long, honest late night talks with people I care about, and I've laughed and cried and felt alive...
...I've been hugged -- close and tight and long -- it's amazing what an honest hug will do.

A part of me still aches. That frustrates me. It frustrates me because despite all of the good things that I have, I feel desperately out of control. I feel frightened and alone and sad and helpless -- so full of feelings that I'm empty. I say that a lot, but it's the only way I can describe it.

I don't want to be like this. I don't want to feel so terrified and sad.

My wish for moments of happiness does come true, and frequently. All of the things that I've done and seen this week were happy moments; more than moments, some of them were hours. Hours of time where I could get out of the emptiness and really feel alive again, instead of being trapped in this seemingly endless state of feeling too much of nothing good.

Truly, I feel helpless. I feel so in need of help that I worry that I'm needy. I don't like needy people. I don't want to be a needy person. I want to be strong and independent and comfortable in my own skin. Right now (and for a long time) I've wanted out of my skin and into something...different. I've never been totally confident. Who is, right? But I've been better than I am now.

Hopefully, good things will keep happening. And they will -- they haven't stopped so far. What I really hope is that I'll be okay enough to see the good things, and not push them away because I'm too scared to do anything. I hope I don't do that.

so sad...

Today has been kind of a sad day. I woke up feeling like little pieces of glass had been wedged into my heart and were moving slowly through my veins -- kid you not, it's a real feeling. Your whole body hurts and shakes, and it's worst in your chest, like something has shattered -- and the little shattered bits are radiating out through your arms and legs and toes and fingers. Even your ears hurt.

Because it was such a sad morning, I was grateful for my friend Thomas. He took me to brunch at Denny's, because there was Hobbit food on the menu (and because he said he misses me, and that it's stupid that we're so busy with school). What better than Hobbit food to make you smile? It was such a laugh, the whole time -- I've know him for over a year, but there are so many things I've learned about him since we started spending time together this semester. He's probably one of the most talented, sincere people I've met in my life. I don't think he's afraid of anything. Visiting and laughing with him made some of the blues go away for a little while, for which I was happy. He took me to a dance concert at the college afterwards, and we had a good time watching all of the talented people perform.

Coming home, the sad aches began again. I tried doing homework, and couldn't focus. I tried writing for work, but no words made sense. I tried cleaning, organizing, even sleeping -- nothing.

Finally, I gave up. I went to Target and bought my favorite frozen pizza and some peanut butter cup ice cream. I bought season 7 of Psych through Amazon.com, threw on some sweats, let down my hair, got a plate of pizza, and pulled out my new shimmery, light pink nail polish. And I've been sitting at my computer since 7:45 this evening, watching ridiculous episodes and making my nails look pretty.

I feel a little better. The sad aches are still there, but they're a bit numbed now. I've got good memories of breakfast with Thomas, new funny lines to quote from Shawn and Gus, and pretty fingers.

Part of my brain is yelling at me for wasting the weekend, doing no homework and getting no work assignments completed. Another part of my brain is smiling.

Hopefully my heart will start smiling more, too.

tradition...

Summer is not summer for me if it lacks a visit to Manti for the Mormon Miracle Pageant. It's like a mini road trip, and it's one I look forward to every year.

Last weekend, I went with Ann Girl and Adam. Needless to say, it was an adventure, as things always are with those two. After the long drive (which seems to grow shorter every year), we grabbed our treat that we never go to Manti without getting: piping hot, sugary sweet, honey butter drenched scones topped with loads of powdered sugar. So much powdered sugar, in fact, that I couldn't help but blow most of Adam's into his face. But only after he started it.

I think I finished that fight, though.

Scones, hamburgers off the grill, homemade root beer in pretty glass bottles -- quite the nice little picnic under our baby tree, which provided just enough shade for the three of us.

And then the pageant! Yes -- it's still cheesy. Yes -- they really should update that script. And yes -- I cried, just like every year.

It makes me feel something, you know? It reminds me of things I've forgotten, of things that are important to me that I overlook during the day-to-day struggles and adventures of life. That's one of the reasons why I go: I want to be reminded.

I love this temple.

And I love these people!

festival? carnival? fair?

I'm not really sure what the Pleasant Grove Strawberry Days is classified as. It's not exactly a festival. It's too big for a carnival. And it has a rodeo, so maybe it's a fair? Because the state fairs here in the west always have rodeo events.

Yep. I think it's a fair.

Whatever af-fair (ha) it is, it's brilliant. I think I might like it more than I like as much as I like the Orem Summerfest, actually.

Or maybe it's because I went with Ann Girl. That's probably it.

Biggest. Corn dog. Ever. And it was delicious.

It's a little dark, but if you look closely, you can see the butterfly. Oh, and it's just henna.

Love her. Love Strawberry Days!

the me I was...

After a couple of hours spent trying to sleep, I've given up for the moment.

I keep thinking about who I used to be a few years (or even months) ago. In a lot of ways, I'm haunted by the image of the old me and wish desperately to go back to who that girl is. And at the same time, I'm just as disturbed by the pain I feel when I see all of the changes in my life.

The changes have been for good. I no longer starve myself. I no longer do a lot of things that were really quite bad for me. Yet I'm dissatisfied.

I look at myself in the mirror with contempt. I despise what I see -- the thickened waistline, the fuller hips and breasts, the presence of more me everywhere. I hate that.

I feel like I've completely lost control -- I can't go without eating anymore. I get so sick when I don't, most likely because of the years I spent keeping myself to under 1,000 calories per day, if I made it even close to that. I see pictures of myself from just last year and compare them to how I look now, and I want to cry.

I want to cry because I'm "not skinny."

How stupid is that? How ridiculous is it that I berate myself for every thing I put inside my mouth? Even as my brain says that I need to eat, and that eating is good for me, my brain also screams to stop because I'm FAT.

My diet isn't bad. I eat a lot of good foods, and I go for walks several times a day. That's about all I can do right now, as my body still gets worn out very quickly. I'm not complaining -- there have been times when all I could do was lie in bed and pray that the pain would go away. Walking is a joy. The pain I experience after a long walk is worth it, because I'm walking. And not a slow stroll walk either, but actually walking to have some sort of activity in my life.

Despite it all, my pants still get tighter. My shirts aren't baggy. There is more of me than there has been in years, and I have to force myself out of a panic when I feel myself starting to get hungry (also a new development -- in the past five years, I forgot how to feel hungry). I have to make myself be calm and remind my brain that if I don't eat, I'll get sicker.

I miss the old me. I know it's stupid. I know it's wrong. I know that weight isn't the important thing.

But I don't believe it. And I wish that I could go back.

so super dizzy...

When I woke up this morning, I felt great. I got the best sleep I've had in weeks and I couldn't remember any of the dreams I'm pretty sure that I had.

Everything changed when I got up to brush my teeth. All of the sudden the floor was the ceiling, the door was the window, and the bed was the closet. Also known as the room appeared to be spinning and twisting like mad.

As of now, the dizziness has only increased and I would very much like to go back to bed. It's kind of funny -- in between tasks here at work I have to stop and hold on to something for a minute or two until my eyes stop thinking the walls are moving. Gotta let my vision catch up with what my brain already knows -- walls don't move. Unless you're in Harry Potter. Or Psych.

Other than the dizziness, I feel great. 

I feel so great. 

Seriously. I'm being completely serious. 

There are so many good things in this world. Here's a list:

1. Little Lily Bear got adopted this week! She went to a family who has a cross-eyed cat and some other cool stuff, but Chels lost me at the words "cross-eyed cat" and I don't remember anything other than that. It's funny because Lily is slightly wall-eyed, and the cat is cross-eyed, so they even each other out! How cool is that? I'm glad she has a family to love her.
2. It is so sunny today. It's sunny and bright and warm -- if I weren't so dizzy, I'd take a long walk in it. Sitting at the park will have to do.
3. Two exams down yesterday! Only finals left for English, and now that I know what to expect, I almost look forward to it. Seriously, that essay I wrote was awesome. If the prof doesn't like it, who cares? I like it.
4. Voice lessons are awesome.
5. Doing what I want to do with my life makes me so much happier than doing what I think others want me to do.

By the way, Village Inn has a Tin Roof Sundae pie that is so. Good. Mostly because of the crust. If a pie has a good crust, I'm going to like it.

Ha. When I watch my fingers typing, I feel like throwing up. This is a fun game.

little things that make me smile...

There are certain things in life that I cannot keep from smiling about. To some they may seem like silly things. To me, they mean the world.

Like...

...making friends with a brown squirrel on the walk across campus

...signing up for music lessons because I can

...seeing little Teddy run up to me when I get home and snuggle as close to me as he can (he does that to no one else)

...hearing birds singing in the morning sunshine

...watching a butterfly skim the grass on colorful wings

...feeling Adam run his fingers through my hair (I don't know why I love that so much)

...looking outside and seeing the little ones playing in the backyard or snuggling up close in their kennel

...sitting on the kitchen floor under the light of the stove drowning Oreos in milk (because that is the closest I will ever come to murder)

...snuggling down in warm covers, pillows, and teddy bears after a long day at school and work

...hugging daddy

...receiving kisses and cuddles from Misty and Molly when I visit my parents' house

...driving with the windows down and the music turned up

...walking through grocery stores for fun

...getting a soft kiss on the forehead

...eating a big bowl of freshly baked brownies with vanilla ice cream and chocolate syrup on top with my special spoon

...being held close enough and long enough to hear heartbeats synchronizing

...talking to a long time friend and realizing how much you can learn about a person by listening, even after years of conversations

...drinking a cup of horchata in the spring, a glass of strawberry lemonade in the summer, a tumbler of herbal tea in the fall, a mug of        cinnamon hot chocolate in the winter

...laughing until your cheeks hurt and your sides ache from the giggles

...climbing a tree barefoot

...playing on the kids' jungle gym at the complex park even though you're a grown-up and your boyfriend barely fits on the swings

...gazing at the stars - or the clouds - or the clear blue sky

...opening a package, a parcel, a letter, addressed to you

...baking cookies late at night with someone you love

...cooking dinner for more than one person

...washing dishes in such a way that it becomes an all-out water war (but don't get it on the carpet)

...kissing good-night, soft and sweet and promising tomorrow

just got to write stuff down...

Every once in awhile, I feel so incredibly weak that I can't keep my head up. My limbs constantly shake, and I often can't control my fingers. It wouldn't be so bad if it didn't make it so difficult to type or hold a pencil.

I really love Oreos. That's a bad thing, because Oreos are not good for me at all, but they taste so magnificent! Lots of food that isn't good for me tastes good, and seeing as how I've gained ten pounds since I started dating Adam, I should probably stop eating crap food.

Although, Adam keeps telling me I've lost weight and that I "feel skinnier," which doesn't make sense to me because I'm the one who sees myself in the mirror every single day. 

It's frustrating to have gained weight. I see these super thin girls all of the time, and I just ache inside to look like them. But no matter how much I exercise or eat well, I don't change. In some ways, it breaks my heart. Seriously -- it might sound super shallow and vain, and it probably is -- I can't seem to get past it.

Speaking of food, I made awesome Parmesan crusted chicken last night with lemon-pepper green beans for a side. Super good. So good that I didn't feel guilty for eating it.

Can I just say how much I enjoy the TV show Psych? "I'd rather show with a bear." Ha, Lassie kills me.

Last night I had a dream that there was a war going on between different races of rabbits. They had machine guns that shot carrot bullets, and were fighting over who was going to rule the world. It was weird. As in, super weird. Rabbits wearing camo and leather jackets with helmets and aviators, equipped with cabbage mortar guns and carrot shooters. Weird.

I'm so tired. I have no energy.

Being afraid is no fun. I'm constantly waiting for the ball to drop and for my life to change. The fairy tale is going to end and life is going to go back to normal. And it'll hurt. It's so hard to not be sure.

I'm thinking that I need a new phone. The one that I have is dying -- I mean, it's been almost three years since I got it. First phone, only phone. Heck, it takes five minutes to turn on if I shut if off for a little while. Old, old phone.

Yesterday, I made a candy poster for Adam to congratulate him for his scholarship that he go. He was awarded a $5,500 a year scholarship from the National Science Foundation because he's got such a good GPA and is majoring in mathematics. He's a smarty pants. And he liked the poster. It was so fun to make it for him. And he liked it. Lots.

I just don't want to be sad anymore.

question mark...

dear World,

Why am I so bad at baking? No matter how closely I follow recipes, things never work out well for me.

Sincerely,

a concerned girl who made rolls which she will not be taking to her boyfriend's house for dinner because these are not going to impress his mom.

at all.


ever.

want...

There is nothing I want more than to put on comfy sweats, eat half (or more) of a carton of chocolate ice cream, and sing with Katy Perry as loud as I possibly can. Because days like these I want to drive away, just pack my bags and watch all of those shadows fade.

I'm so tired -- and I don't have any chocolate ice cream because I exercised self-control at the grocery store and only bought the things that I really need.

Not sure what's wrong with me today. It's like being really hungry, so hungry you're empty inside and your stomach is tied up in knots.

Although I'm not physically hungry -- I found these preservative free granola bars at the grocery store which I keep in my pockets and eat between classes. I don't get a break at all on MWF, so I snag a snack when I can. Let me tell you, those granola bars are yummy, yummy. Especially the chocolate-dipped coconut bars. And the peanut butter chip bars. Yummy.

2 hours until I can go home. Cannot wait.

habits...

I've been thinking a lot about habits, and how uncomfortable I get when a habit of mine is broken. My roommate and I were talking about it in the car on the way to the grocery store (went shopping for the first time in a month today). We are both noticing that each of us do the same things at the same places (though we personally do different things). For example, when we go to Cafe Rio, we both get pork burritos without sauce and with cheese on the top. When we go to Wendy's, she always gets the same combo, and I always get the same combo. When we go to Target, we always go in the same door, and I always have to stop at the nail polish section to see if there are any new colors.

Those are just a few that we share. But I've noticed a lot of my own.

I never leave my bedroom in the morning without first washing my face and brushing my teeth. I hate skipping that. Same with going to bed; if I don't do those two things, I can't sleep. I do chores in the house in the same order every single time, with a set plan for timing and efficiency. Last night when I did all of the chores, I did them in the wrong order and got so thrown off that I almost started over.

I can't open my garage door until I've gotten in my car and shut the door. I take the same route through the grocery store every time I go, starting with produce and working my way section by section on my list (which is written according to the layout of the store). The dishes in the dishwasher are placed, when I load it, in the same spot every time. The pantry is organized by food type, as are the shelves in the fridge and freezer. So are my clothes in the drawers, and even in the closet.

And another really weird habit? I eat my sandwiches, meat, whatever it is, in circles. Seriously. I start on one side and work my way around in a circular direction until it's gone. I even spin my plate in circles (unless it's pasta, soup, or something that doesn't require cutting -- oatmeal would fall into this category, too). My food is particularly organized; so is Chelsea's. When I eat, cook, bake, shop, bag items in the store, put things away -- there is a system for everything that cannot be broken, or I get anxious.

There are all of these bizarre little quirky things that I've been noticing about myself. If I do things differently, it bothers me a lot. I will try new things, like food and places to have fun -- usually I do that out of fear of what others will think if I don't, rather than because I want a new experience.

I guess this realization is coming from trying to break other habits that are a serious problem. Not only that, but I'm trying to feel more -- that's my assignment, to allow myself to feel what I feel, rather than pushing it away or pretending (which sucks and I hate it). All of these weird rituals are truly that: weird.

Funny how I've lived with myself for nearly 21 years (gah, I'm getting older) and am just barely seeing things that I do every single day. I wonder why it's so much easier to observe other people's patterns of behavior than it is to observe our own.

What are your habits?

salt of the oats...

After two minutes of wondering where I went wrong with breakfast, my taste buds figured it out.

I put too much salt in the oatmeal.

Now I have a joke for you:

How much brown sugar does it take to eliminate the taste of salt in oatmeal?

When I find out, I'll let you know -- if I don't end up in a sugar coma first.

now you say...

I sit on my wobbly old stool at grandma's kitchen table, eating my pecan pie in a plastic bowl with a plastic spoon. Grandma doesn't like to wash dishes anymore, so she always has plastic on hand. Not very environmentally friendly, but it saves me the job of cleaning up after everyone, so I'm not complaining.

Very few thoughts run through my head. My mind is focused on the pie in the bowl. I eye which sections have the most cinnamon coated nuts, cutting around those bits to save them for last. You can't eat pecan pie from tip to crust -- you've gotta save the best parts and eat them slowly.

A voice cuts through my contemplation, and I look up to see grandma sitting across from me. I don't know how long she's been talking, and I feel a little bad for not paying better attention. Eating pecan pie is a serious business. It requires a lot of concentration -- clearly I was doing a good job.

I listen to her talk for a few minutes, about Christmas angels made out of dish towels and what she's going to do with all of the cards she gets every year from family members. I smile and nod as I listen, slowly spooning pie across my lips.

Grandma stops talking and studies me for a few seconds. I put my spoon down and look back at her across the table, waiting for her to continue.

"You are very quiet," she says.

I almost fall off of my stool. My bowl hits the tabletop with a soft thump. Pecan pie is now the last thing on my mind as I race to find a reply, but before I can think of anything, I feel my head nodding in agreement.

"Why?" grandma asks.

Again, my body acts before I can speak -- I shrug.

"Hm," grandma huffs, pursing her lips.

She's not happy with my response. My brain is still slow and wanting to get back to the pie. I grasp for anything that will be satisfactory to her, and I hear my voice say, "I just don't have a lot to say. I listen more than I talk."

Grandma just looks at me. Apologetically, I shrug again and quietly say, "I like to listen."

She nods and leaves the table, returning to her genealogy program that is open on her computer screen. I breathe a sigh of relief and pick up my plastic bowl of pecan pie.

I never thought anyone would ever tell me that I'm quiet, I think at the pie, But is it bad if I don't have much to say? Receiving no response from the nuts in the bottom of the bowl, I scoop them out and eat them one by one, savoring the rich, dark, nutty taste and finding security in the fact that pie never talks back.

it's been a day...

I have discovered that if I get to campus 45 minutes before my classes start, I can get a parking spot near the bell tower, which cuts off almost half of the walk to my building from the parking lot. Which, all things considered, is very helpful for me right now.

My professor handed back the exams from last week. I got a B+. Considering I was praying for a C, I did fairly well.

Did 8 tutorials today -- which is a lot less than I usually do during a four hour shift. I've learned that if you take longer with a single student, you can explain things better for them and you do fewer tutorials throughout a shift (no crap, Sherlock). All the same...this job is exhausting.

Mom took me to lunch at the wrap shop on campus. Strawberry Fields wrap equals deliciousness.

There's a(nother) dress at the book store that I want. Note to self: stay away from the clothing sections in the book store. Or, stay out of the book store period.

Anthropology was a silent affair. Literally. Sat there for 39 minutes with no one speaking, and then one person timidly commented on something from the reading. Nothing for another 4 minutes. Then a second timid comment, after which the professor got up and left. The Quakers' practice of silent meetings is really getting to us.

2 hour study group after school and work for the next American Studies exam on Wednesday. Karina and Nelly are fantastic.

Bad and frustrating news from doctors -- I really dislike this whole mess.

My sister took me to Cafe Rio with her tonight -- such happiness. We talked about how stupid and confusing boys are. It was therapeutic. We both enjoyed ourselves immensely.

Going to Idaho on Thursday this week. Watch out, Rexburg. Gonna party all weekend long...with my textbooks and sleeping pills.

Oh, and I got stuck in the elevator today. Tried to walk out and found myself slammed into the back wall. Yeah -- my backpack strap had gotten caught on the handrail. Whatever.

awful nice to eat...

So.

When I first heard of The Awful Waffle, I admit that I was quite skeptical. I mean...a food joint that has the word "awful" in the title? I questioned the rhetoric of that one big time (the writing tutor in me never goes away -- I still haven't told you about the time I woke myself up doing a tutorial in my sleep -- but that's a story for another post). Who puts "awful" in the same sentence as a food and then tries to sell a product?

Well. This girl was first curious about this place (which is probably what they're going for), and so decided that she would at least give it a shot. Not to mention that it was the venue where the hip, adorbs (yes, I just said adorbs) Sierra's party of happiness and blogging joy was going to be held! Two birds with one stone: check out the waffle-awfulness and see Sisi at the same time? I think yes.

Brianna and I headed over together, and she assured me that The Awful Waffle was the opposite of its name (leading me again to wonder if the name is meant to bring in curious people like myself).

I was quite impressed with the building, the interior layout, and the design. It was a vintage-modern hodge podge collection of chalkboard topped tables, ceramic deer heads on the walls, pink and blue and mint and white and red aluminum chairs, and bird cage covered lamps. It was old and new all thrown together -- quite trendy and appealing to the current "in" crowd of young single and married adults. Which categories Brianna and I may or may not fall into (yes, we being young, me single and her married). Either way, we both liked the way everything looked! And another thing that we liked...

One word: cupcakes. That's how the party started -- cuppies courtesy of Cupcake Chic -- very excited about that one 

(especially because mine was red velvet with a little heart on top)!

Fact. Nothing awful about The Awful Waffle. Especially because the menu included the specialty topping option of Creamy Smooth Peanut Butter. Um...can you say excited? An on-the-house Liege waffle topped with peanut butter and bananas, made fresh right there made me one happy little girl. AND Caroline was there, whom I have not seen since Brianna's wedding (5 months ago -- that's nigh unto forever). I love Caroline. She's beautiful. Disney princess beautiful. Really.

We were pretty happy girls. Different than most of the bloggers who were there -- I definitely gained a new perspective on the "blog world." But it was fun, and I know that I was happy. And, I must say, you would probably benefit from a visit to The Awful Waffle. Yum. Yum, yum, yum. That waffle was awfully good (I'm so funny)! You should go get one.

the Hub...

I spend a lot of time in my kitchen. Yes, I do the obvious things, like cook. This kitchen will forever be in my memory as "the place where I taught myself to make good food." So far even my mistakes have been successful -- like the sweet and tangy meatball sauce I made in the crock pot? Waaaaaay too much chili sauce, but it turned out quite well.

I clean a lot, too. Some friends say I clean so much that it's nigh unto an obsession. You know what, though? I like it clean. After all, since I do spend a lot of time cooking, I want to have a clean place to work. I also am haunted by the memory from when I worked on a custodial team at a middle school, and we were allowed to borrow a bacteria counter thing-a-ma-jig from an inspector. Our toilet seats had less bacteria on them than the school cafeteria tabletops. Oh. My. SICK.

Did I ever tell you that I dance in my kitchen? YouTube and Pandora are my friends. So is Justin Bieber. He hangs out with me a lot. Gives me tips on my moves. Actually, he doesn't, and I'm glad he can't see me dance because he'd probably laugh. I mean, once upon a time I was dancing in my bedroom when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and I stopped because I was embarrassed for myself. No mirrors in the kitchen!

Talking on the phone happens a lot here, too. I'm not generally one to sit in normal places, like on a chair or the couch or in bed, while on the phone. I find myself huddled in corners, perched on the banister, sprawled on the bar over the sink, seated on the closed toilet while fixing my nails, under the table -- my favorite place is the subtle nook-ish spot by the dishwasher. Or leaning against the fridge. Don't ask my why all of those places are appealing. It's weird. I know.

Studying, writing, and stalking keeping up with friends through the Internet are frequent occurrences, too (do you ever have words that you just cannot seem to spell correctly ever? occurrences -- took me three times to get it right. rhythm is the other one I can never seem to get right). Facebook, Pinterest, gMail, Blogger...you name it. Except Twitter. Boring. They don't even have a like button.

There are a lot of good talks in my kitchen. Lots of hilarious jokes, stories about people's lives, insights into personalities, confessions, ideas, advice. Shared experiences, usually between myself and one other person. Sometimes we share food, too, but the sharing of laughter, experiences, and trust are even better.

I talk to myself, too. What? Why are you looking me like that's weird? Because if you know me, you also know that I talk to myself. And you also know that I'm weird. But it's cool! We talked about talking to ourselves in my Anthropology language class. It's healthy. Unless, you know. You're actually crazy. I have a lot of good conversations with myself. Working out problems I can't solve silently, walking myself through recipes, making myself laugh (I'm funny). Singing, too. Singing happens here.

Tears fall here, too. Sometimes there's a reason for them. Other times they just fall.

Mary Wixom said that the "kitchen is the hub of the home." It's the heart of the bustle and commotion of life. It's where people meet after their busy days -- coming in from their spokes on the family wheel and settling in the center, the Hub. It's where we talk and share our experiences. It's where we slow down for a little while, taking a few moments to notice that we're not just getting things done and running around crazy. We're living.

tough...

Sometimes she (the she being me) pretends that she is this care free, enthusiastic, happy-go-lucky girl who laughs at every tease and joke made at her expense that she hears. Even if to her, it's actually not funny. Even if it hurts her feelings. Even if it gets inside her head and eats away at her for days after.

Like how when she went out with some friends and ordered a good sized meal because she's finally been hungry, and ate it all, and was still hungry, one of her friends was surprised and jokingly remarked "You are such a pig!" And so she laughed and brushed off the comment, turning it into a bigger joke. When in reality, it was as though the words had slapped her in the face.

The sting has worsened rather than lessened -- I'm already self-conscious about eating in general, and when I actually can eat, I often feel guilty for it after. I usually avoid eating in front of people, and even if there are people in my home I make sure my portions are itty bitty in comparison to others, just in case. It's getting better, with some people. I keep working on it.

The person didn't mean it in an unkind way. It was really just a joke -- after all, most of my friends never see me eat anything, ever. So to see this (for me) abnormal behavior, it makes sense that someone would say something, merely from surprise.

But that doesn't mean that it didn't hurt, and doesn't hurt.

Gotta be tough.

I'll get over it.

apology, explanation, and update...

dear World,

First, an apology. I apologize for the last few days of downer posts. Summer time was rough, and autumn time has not yet lessened in the frequency of hard days. Bad news has been common, and progress has been slow.

Second, an explanation to the above apology. See, I write about these things here because it makes processing the information easier for me. Once I write everything down and send it off into the void, I can revisit the problems as a more or less objective reader. Sometimes I pretend that I didn't write the post -- sometimes I sit back and take apart the grammar and the sentence structure, as I would in the writing center. And then I read it again, this time focusing less on the words themselves, but more on possible solutions that might come to mind.

Third, an update. I again have something that I need to write about.

Dark-thirty of this morning found me up and ready in my kitchen awaiting my friend who would drive me to the specialist's office. I set up an appointment two and a half weeks ago, and this morning brought the scheduled time with it. Saying that I was nervous is an understatement. However, I was not quite scared to death, as I was fully alive and thinking about all of the "what ifs" in my mind.

I shouldn't have been so nervous. Everything went well. Every person I talked to, from the receptionist to the nurse practitioner to the phlebotomist, was kind and helpful. Rather than telling me that I was doing something wrong and causing me to feel guilty for my lack of knowledge about my body, they each helped me feel comfortable and relaxed. Their focus was on giving me information that I can use and walking me through all of the possible solutions and outcomes. Yes, medications were prescribed, and yes, lab work was required, but it wasn't as frightening as it has been in the past.

The appointment went well. I, however, don't feel well at all. The number of tests the nurse practitioner wants to run necessitated quite a bit of blood -- I ate before and after blood was drawn, but I'm still a bit shaky. There's also the fact that the results might show some serious problems, ranging from a bit serious to serious enough that I don't want to think about it.

And so I try not to think about it. But it's hard. It's hard not to be worried. It's hard not to be scared. Everything is going to work out just fine, I'm sure. I'm still scared, though.

It doesn't help that I've been having a hard time eating anything again lately. Almost every time I make or purchase a meal, I dump it, give it away, or put it back. I can't seem to eat anything. It's not that I'm not hungry -- I just don't want to eat anything. Every once in awhile, I can't eat. Food sounds so great, but if I actually try to eat it, I feel like throwing up (or do throw up). The headaches occur more frequently as well. Most likely it's due to the lack of appetite -- not only do tummies complain when they're empty, but heads want to be sure you're aware as well.

It's probably stressed related. I don't do well with change -- things keep changing quickly and adapting is hard for me. And now, more changes will be taking place. I won't mention them all here -- there are many. There are medications to be taken on a set schedule, particular foods and drinks needing to be on hand at all times, and the nurse practitioner kindly but firmly informed me that while my school is important, homework will need to take a back seat to getting sleep. She's not worried about my physical activity, but she is concerned about the amount of sleep I get. Let me just say, she's not the only one!

Everything will be okay. It really will. For now I need to force myself to eat dinner, finish some homework, and go to bed. Besides, I have something to look forward to tomorrow night!

And so, dear World, things are okay. Life really is good -- it's better if there's a way to express the inner most thoughts and feelings. At least it is for me.

your Friend,
GKB

lately...

...thinking...
...so confused on so many levels...so much so that I just try not to think
...school starts soon...soon as in way too soon
...there is way too much good music to enjoy it all fast enough -- same goes for books
...not sure why all of these engagements, weddings, and newborns make me kind of sad inside
...do I really feel left out or would I even want to go to things if I got invited anyway? maybe both...
...dunno how I'm going to survive the upcoming semester -- try not to stress out before you get your syllabi, okay, kiddo?
...did I just call myself kiddo?
...it was so much easier to handle things before you held me


...doing...
...I've been cast as Zombie #10 in the music video -- kinda glad I went back and auditioned because this could be super fun
...made Cranberry BBQ meatballs in the crock pot yesterday and they were super delicious over rice
...DIDN'T answer a text message from someone and didn't even feel super guilty about it
...closed a chapter in my book of life, and will not be looking back -- wishing you the best of luck, Garrett (you may know him as Aries)
...got a call from Hannah yesterday morning asking me to come to the doctor's office where she was awaiting a verdict on her head injury -- yes, I was the one who held her hand while she got stitches and yes, I made it through the whole procedure without passing out (which is a huge deal for me [she's fine, by the way])
...inflated SO. MANY. BALLOONS. at work the past three days -- so over that dealio
...didn't do my room mate's dishes (did my own)
...cleaned the windows in the kitchen and the hallway -- pretty sure the interior windows haven't been cleaned in at least three years...gross
...watched The Swan Princess with Alyssa tonight -- "You should write a book: How to Offend Women in Five Syllables or Less."
...5:30am phone calls are a great way to start your day
...5:00pm phone calls are a great way to get through an afternoon
...picked up my textbooks -- all 19 of them (and they are so not worth three hundred and sixty-one dollars)
...another job: babysitting for a professor once or twice a week on my evenings off during the school year -- two adorable kids, $40-$50 a night, kids go to bed at 8pm, did I mention the kids are adorable?


...feeling...
...absolutely irritated with everything about people (or most people) and totally unsure why
...at peace with some parts of my life, like the fact that the whole Garrett thing is mostly over for me
...high anxiety due to my trip to the college today -- I don't want to go back to school...I so do not want to go back to school with 33,000 students and hours of homework and everything that college entails
...better about dad's situation because things are definitely looking up
...missing you a lot -- darn you
...like it would be great to throw something and listen to it shatter (but that is violent and I won't do it)
...sleep deprived!