Still Funky

Whenever I start to get really stressed out I feel pain in my body.  At Stage 2, it becomes painfully evident on my face.  Mountainous pimples with deep roots (sleeping volcanos, if you will)? check.  Rosacea redness? Check.  Fever blisters? Check.  Weight gain? Double check.  Frown and overall Depressed look on my face which accurately reflects my feelings? Check and checkmate.

I skipped my classes today and did... nothing unless hating yourself as something.  I lucked that we were given until Wednesday to turn in our outlines (I e-mailed my teacher).  I also started (yes started) working on the design for the wedding invitations for my aunts friend and told her I would charge her $40 flat for my time plus whatever the invitations cost.  I feel guilty, like it's way too much.  I made sure that I put she could use the logo for other things too (stationary, coffee mugs, mousepads... whatever).  It was a price that my mom suggested a when we talked about it a while back, she actually thinks that's low.  I see her point, really, when I think of all the time I put into it, I'm paying myself China's minimum wage, but I'm amateur so maybe one day I'll step up to California minimum wage.  I figure the $40 will get me a couple of car washes.

I'm not even happy with the design yet, it's still a work in progress.  I can't figure out if I'm having a harder time with it because I've never met the couple or because I'm just in a creative slump.  Or I'm just depressed.  My Save the Date for my little niece's birthday party was a big fail too.

I'm just sad.  Everytime I try and think of why but it seems like everything I think of just makes me sad.  I keep thinking of myself and society.  I don't fit in anywhere.  Society is fucked anyway, I hate myself and I hate the world around me but am powerless to do anything about it.  I don't want to play Life anymore.  I'm not suicidal but if death were to present itself to me, I'm not so sure I would deny it.

I wonder, if I have gotten to the point of not caring and not wanting to play then why do I want, so bad, to be thin and beautiful and loved?  I don't want it bad enough to actively seek it but I lust for it.  I guess if just makes me a soar loser?

Whenever I think about killing myself and then I think well then what would I do before I off myself?  Of course, I would binge.  And then I think screw that!  If I'm gonna die why not just drive my life into shit and do whatever I want, spend, travel, be however I want to be and just not care!  And then I think I totally should do that!  But I need to get thin and beautiful first so that it's a better experience.  People are nicer to pretty and thin people.  And what if I am traveling and meet some sexy foreigner?  I can't be all fat and yucky!  He might be my happily ever after and I mucked it up with Doritos, Cheez-its, Gardetto's and cheezy, buttery, crispy on the outside, soft on the inside bread.

Dr. Roizen has a little theory on foods your crave and mood, apparently I'm angry, stressed, lonely and sexually frustrated right now.

And that's why I'm still alive.  Because I just think too dilly dang much and don't do ish.

(Dilly dang? ... I'm speechless.)


So I'm just sad about everything and am experiencing some leakage of the eyeballs, sometimes it's allergies but sometimes it's not.  Tomorrow I have to be up and out of the house at the crack of dawn because the cleaning ladies are coming.  I have dishes to wash. Ugh.  I'm still debating whether I should pick up my room or just leave a note on the door to not clean. (You probably already know the verdict.)

I have a kink in my neck.


I did bad eating today. (Again. Not surprising.) but I didn't get all crazy-like, rummaging through the cupboards and mindlessly shoving food in my mouth.  And I didn't puke either.  I can attribute both those small victories to all the tiny little blisters camping out on the outskirts of my lips.  Thanks assholes.

I read some of Wasted last night and when I was reading about her childhood I started remembering a lot of my own childhood.  Some memories were similar to what she was saying, I was also an only child with a mother who was constantly dieting.  As far back as I can remember I've scrutinized my body in mirrors, sucking in and pinching.  I was never strong like her though, I always caved and ate, I knew what anorexia was and I always wished I could resist temptations.

In Psychology we learned that scientists theorize that all of our memories are stored in our brains we just don't know how to get to most of them.  So while I was reading and memories were coming back to me, I indulged and tried to push the envelope.  I always wanted to write everything that I could, every thought, every experience but every time I've tried I fail.  My mind is so vivid there is just too much, I try to pick a point and start describing it and pretty soon I'm trying to add backstory and extra thoughts and then I realize I took a left when I should have taken a right and turned 10 more times because I got distracted by something shiny and now I'm in BFE, I'm out of gas and I don't even want to go where I was going before because it's too late and I just don't care anymore.

Case in point.

BUT SOMEDAY! Someday I will write a book and it will be good.  I'll actually make sense and use complete thoughts.   I have no idea what I could ever write about but whatevs.


It could happen. 

(Best slogan. EVER.)

Great.  Now I have a kink in my neck AND a headache.

Good grief.