Attack of the Killer Hungry-Woman

Ok. I’m starving.

I keep getting friendly advice to either (#1) keep busy(!) or (#2) just eat something already- neither or which seem like a viable option, so I’m blogging instead.

I’m trying this damned “GM Diet” which isn’t a real thing, mostly because it most certainly wasn’t developed by the top execs at General Motors, but it will enable me to lose a few pounds fast, which I’m entirely interested in. It touts itself (and by “it” I mean the description I found on some bogus website) as being one of those “cleansing” things, which I’m into I guess, but not into enough to drink lemonade, maple syrup and cayenne pepper.

But let’s be honest. It’s not really about that. It’s about the somewhere around 10 pounds I’ve gained in the last month thanks to a sweet Jewish boy and his family who call me a whack-job when I try to turn down a steak dinner.

While I’m cranky enough to say it- I KNOW that dieting isn’t a good way to “permanently lose weight” and that I’m probably mostly going to lose water weight and blah blah blah. I’m a 25 year old female born in the 21st century to a mother obsessed with weight and dieting, who is now smart enough on her own to have made it to her final year of law school. If one more person gives me some “advice” on weight loss I’ll find a way to jump through this computer and strangle them.

I eat healthy and I exercise pretty regularly. I’m just eating more regularly than ever before, and until my body figures out that I can have the metabolism of a normal person, I’m not interested in being one of those girls that makes you wonder why “low-rise” jeans were ever in style.

Instead of trying to lecture me on things I know to be true (this seems to be my general problem with all things unhealthy in my life- we rarely want to stop maybe because of rather then inspite of their unhealthiness?) why don’t we start to figure out why it’s this way. Why do we ever take the hard road even when we know the hard road is less than necessary? In fact, it’s usually worse for us in the long run. That’s the thing about that “often the hard choice is the right one” business- it’s usually only hard right this second. But NO DUH it may be hard to not see your abusive boyfriend anymore right now but it is probably better for your 13- year-old boy (not me- w/e, you get it).

And you know what I mean. The relationships we should end that just prolong pain, the jobs we hate, the phone call we don’t want to make….

Maybe instead of blaming others and ourselves in this situation, we should look at the alternative we’re seeing as so unbearable, and what brought us here.

But whatever (in regards to what brought us here), we basically can all boil down our relationship issues to some (usually male) member of our family, and our eating is all directly related to our mothers (mine is probably eating a Lean Cuisine or Skinny Cow as we speak). None of that really matters in moving ahead except in recognizing that they’re all these major life-forces that somehow have nothing to do with the people who love us today (even our parents! I mean *sure Tracie Robinett is happier when she thinks I look good, but only because in some twisted way something in her past made her think it’s a reflection on herself, but she still loves me the same way!)

I guess what I’m trying to say is that we all do what gets us through the day. And we usually do it in spite of what we know would be the better option. But there are once and a while immediate forces that just make it feel like the better option. And I guess I’m ok with that as long as your tiny missteps don’t get in the way with the much larger, long- term goal. I fully intend to not pass whatever the hell this eating issue is to my daughter, and I intend to go back to eating just as regularly this weekend. I just feel like in the meantime it’s fine to eat just fruit today, and just vegetables tomorrow for the sake of looking good in whatever idiotic-too-short Halloween costume I decide to go with this weekend. Oh god. Don’t even get me started.

Forgive me lord, for I have sinned.

I guess today is as good as any to say something.

I'm exhausted today, with maybe no particular reason for it.  There are purple flowers in my hair, taken from Marina's yard, but I am laying on the couch, smashing them, having trouble getting myself to move.

I have been thinking about happiness a lot lately, and how relative it is, and how complicated creatures we really are.  I recently read an article about how women's happiness rate is at an all time low.  But what does that even mean anyway?  How much are we in control of our actions and how much do they relate to our happiness?  I either believe that I'm an adult- and should sack it up and start making myself life the life I want, or I believe that I'm not in complete control of my life whatsoever- and am simply doing the best with the situations I am put into.  I guess it's somewhere in the middle.  But there really is nothing worse than knowing you are happy, seeing it right there in front of you, and closing the door to any possibility of permanence.  

When I was studying buddhism and non-attachment, I became really good at not longing for the things I already had.  I can see the beauty in something because I know- and almost expect it- to be gone rather shortly.  But I don't think I ever fully learned how to let go of the past; to let go of those things that haven't been beautiful for some time.  

What a revelation.  I am not attaching to the now, because I'm busy trying to recreate the beauty of before.  Always.  Pretty soon, that now becomes recent history, and again, I try to recreate what I never really enjoyed to begin with.

I guess I'm writing to say that I'm so sorry.  That I've made mistakes, and continue to make them, in spite of the beauty of my every day life.  And to say, I'm falling in love.  If with nothing else, then with the possibility of learning how to enjoy each moment- not as if it's my last (that part is *easy*)- but as if there is absolutely nothing that came before it, except what made us who we are.  Those moments have served their purpose and remain, better off dead. 

I hope this comes with forgiveness.  And with each morning, a re-birth, a new beginning to define exactly the life I want to be living.

It's about time...

I just couldn't really put El Salvador into words.  I just couldn't.  I scribbled bits and pieces in a journal for myself, but for fear of the work, I never came back here.  And I regret it. Maybe I will someday. Maybe this is how I end up getting so far away from myself.  I'm not holding myself accountable when I'm not writing.  Before you know it, I'm hanging out with people who only ever talk about being drunk/sick/annoyed/and/or/hungover.  God. It's about time.

I'm getting quiet again, introspective again, so I expect I'll be back here.  I am not exactly sure what it is this time, but I'm sure I'll figure it out.

I am planning a journey to Haiti and a trip to Cuba, but how about a little every-day writing before I run away?

I think so too.  And I would appreciate it if you spent a little more time here too.  Let's write something more than 140 characters, post something a little less tumbly, and be a little more honest than 595 facebook "friends" allow.  Shall we?

papaya hotel? el salvador. day 1

I never leave myself enough time. I scrambled around for a half hour before Daniel and his Dad came to take me to the airport. I forgot some things. I don´t have a towell. But we got there, and then here, with little to do. The main thing is that I feel like it may take me a couple days to relax. I am being horribly anxious and grumpy, and I don´t really know why. Maybe it´s because I got mad at Daniel in the airport and knew that I was in the wrong. I don´t know. I can´t shake it. I hate knowing that I am being irrational but not feeling like I can do anything about it.

Flying in was incredible. There are volcanos seemingly everywhere. It´s not unlike Costa Rica, albeit the poorest parts. I love that not a soul speaks english. Without my cell phone, or being able to speak well, i plan on just being quiet, and watching. I secretly think everyone looks like me. I know it´s not true, but i like to pretend.

When we showed up in El Salvador, Nicky was in a group of people, sweetly standing on tip-toes and waving his hand. We paid a cab (against my better judgment, but we would have had to take a bus out of our way to get to the city to then get on another bus to the beach) to take us to some town that´s not La Libertad, but is close. We are not at playa San Diego, but i think we´re close. I actually have no idea where we are, but our little hotel (slash) hostel has free internet, hammocks, and 3 beds in a room for about 20 bucks a night.

It may be important to mention that I am reading ´Franny and Zooey´again. As I have just started, I am being terribly introspective the way that Franny is. I am judging Nicky and Daniel at every turn, and secretly dream of running away. It´s not really ok. I try to direct my over-analyticalness towards beams of sunlight that I could lay down in, and away from my poor unsuspecting friends.

We went to the beach early, maybe 9 am. We had lunch, a nap, and a long walk along the beach. The sand is dark, yet not quite black, from the volcanos. The water is so warm, you almost don´t notice when it hits your feet- it´s so similar to the weather outside. It´s like my body knows I´m on vacation, within an hour my hair became a mane. We´re all sweetly ill-prepared for the beach- a little off-color and out of shape. I love it though. Between by boughts of grumpiness, I love watching Daniel and Nicky walk along the beach and playing in the waves.

What I meant to say is that I made it. I am here, and remembering how to be happy.
Buenas Noches.

Blueberry Wine

You held my little toes in your hands.

(The smallest one is round like a berry.)

I can picture the stems you call fingers

Methodically pressing into my flesh

As we pretend to be distracted by conversation.

I was rooted to that place on the couch, 

Far enough away so I could watch your whole body move,

Close enough to grow our longing.

But I watched you a second too long, 

And our brief silences quickly soured.

You were not careful with me.

You were not careful with any piece of me.

You let my toes slide out of your fingers

When the first distracting sound made you

Look away.

You offer no comforting words

As I now bend down to pick up the pieces myself.

I count my digits, one by one, honestly believing 

You've kept something of me.

Looking up to find you've gone, 

I realize I'm right.

anything but speechless

I trace the sign for infinity on your back

every morning we're together.

You're asleep, in the place under the window,

fresh sunlight making your skin look so new. (young)

I wish we could start over- you and me.

I'd play my cards so differently.

I would say more, I would be less afraid, 

I would be in a position where I didn't have to let

my fingertips do the talking.

Silently, branding you. Tangling

the memory the night before in my heartstrings.

Your voice still lingers in my ear, your breath on my skin, 

the weight of your body on my chest, 

your hands when they find mine-

grasping for you.

We've been here many times before

(maybe a hundred).

You sleep soundly 

and I wonder why

we can't exist in the daytime.

Home, James.

tight in my chest...

voy a hogar.

see you soon.