Fat fetishes and anti cancer methods

I don't know what I'm more livid at, paranoid people suffering to be healthy, or developing a career out of obesity!...

I've been watching Channel four's 'My Big Fat Fetish', where woman gain weight on purpose to fulfill mans fantasy as well as their own body image preferences. I'm shocked, curious at how many stretch marks they have and also slightly in awe at how they appreciate their bodies just the way they are- something which most slim woman deprive themselves of daily.

I feel angry and confused when I hear their thoughts on their size. I think about all the articles I read on nutritional ways to be healthy, many of which are written by people who are avoiding cancer again or fighting cancer- that scary disease which seems to be the new aids or bird flu. How can so many people make positive life choices to avoid health scares when there are individuals out there throwing their health away for fried chicken?

The opposition,  are those seeking fat have a healthier mental health rate than those prioritising the right food choices, vitamins and exercise? I wonder who is less stressed and pressurised.

Infatuation of learning something new

It's articles like this why I love love love Thought Catalog. Times like this, being now (why would you waste it?), get off your arse and go, do it, run around...

Here's a quote from one of my favourite films, Almost Famous:

'Who needs a "crowd?"  You're unique.  You're two years ahead of everybody.  Take those extra years and do what you want.  Go to Europe for a year!  Take a look around, see what you like!  Follow your dream! You'll still be the youngest lawyer in the country.  Your own great grandfather practiced law until he was 93. Your dad was so proud of you.  He knew you were a pronominally accelerated child.'

It's your adventure.

These words probably describe best where I am with mine right now. I wish I could should be writing like this:

'I think it’s why we love cities. Living in a town just big enough to be cripplingly small, I thought it would be impossible to be in one for more than five minutes without falling in love with something. And we do, for a moment. We fall in love with our strange new neighbors who make more noise as two people than your entire neighborhood did before, with the smell of cigarette smoke, with the way crusty bread feels when you tear it off at a new restaurant — all things that eventually slip into the grating or the prohibitively expensive but which are, for a few moments at a time, wonderfully infatuating.

And we see things in our cities that we hate, almost as many as we love. We keep a tally of all the ups and downs of being in this big new place, wait until the negatives spill over into every part of our life, and then we leave again. We get sucked into a lovely little daydream, standing in front of beautiful architecture and breathing in the smell of rich, warm food, where we feel that this is everything we were looking for. And then a group of obnoxious teenagers walk by, spitting and throwing their cigarettes on the ground. There is only so much a city can provide, and we can either keep moving from location to location, or we can find something new in ourselves to enjoy. A book, a hobby, a new group of friends in a brand-new bar.

We are constantly running, looking for the perfect combination of being alone and being together to make things always feel good. We might need to be in love to see things the way they’re meant to be seen, but not necessarily with a person — just as our city can’t save us, neither can being with someone simply to fill the silence. Sure, to fall in love with a person would be nice, but when you are actively searching for romantic love you’re almost destined not to find it. You can’t waste your time, your youth, your beautiful surroundings waiting for someone to validate it. I would be happy with just being in love with a good book, an opera, a philosophy I overheard in another conversation and turn around in my head until it settles like a fine dust over everything I believe.

It’s hard not to feel sometimes like you’re running around in circles, trying to distract yourself with a new partner or a trip to somewhere fresh and exciting, like you can’t ever stand still. I want the infatuation of learning something new, of discovering something about myself, the thrill of the small joys that don’t cost anything and don’t require anyone else’s presence. I want to be infatuated with myself, to feel like I am enough, and I so rarely do.

I want that falling feeling, that obsessive interest with all that’s around me, with all that I’m capable of. And most importantly, I want that infatuation to come from not where I’m standing, not from who I’m standing with, but from just how beautiful my life is on its own, from how wonderful it is to be alive, how much I am worth just by myself.'

Love and writing

This story just sums up the beautiful amazing wow, that the words we write can provide.

mmm bop! Time for breakfast

Summing up Bipolar

Read this and wept, well if I could I would have.

Cutting a third of your posts

Interesting article from Andrew Sullivan, Salon.com have cut their posts by a third and gained more readers.

It's an argument I can't yet decide on, but then again I don't have to.

A fuck off reminder

Another fuck off reminder for depression and all other life miseries we put up with. At least we have our life and ourselves to say, fuck this i'm going to live and enjoy it- we don't know 'the end' is just around the corner, it's different for some.

An old blog post about writing

I love this.

I should get a shower soon. I need to pee and my legs ache from being crossed legged for too long. But i'm enjoying this James Holden mix and writing and researching and being me.

Sync

Creative writing session four at 2pm today.

My stupid self is saying stay in bed and avoid it because you can't work out how you feel.

Fuck that.

I'm going to pull my ass out of bed at 12. Get showered, dressed, play some music and feel the fresh ice air on the way to Liverpool Street Station. I haven't bothered writing anything this week for today, even though I suggested I may last week. I've got a battle going on with how much personal writing I really want to make. Of course, all writing is personal, but those in the course might not realise I'm writing because it helps me deal with a lot of things. So, clearly I am avoiding being judged, a fear, I'm avoiding a fear but really I'm feeling fear by avoiding writing! Div.

I'm also craving something I shouldn't have because I'm so RUBBISH at getting things out. There have been studies where drug substances help post traumatic stress disorder for those back from army trips, to let out their experience and fears. A way to induce the trapped. I think that seems to be my issue, there is always something in my head going 'arghhhh la la la I want to get out and go rarrrrrr' but it never really gets out properly. Silly self. I do my head in. There's always some sort of mad energy in me which is quite indescribable and awesome and kind of inhibiting too. It's almost like your brain doesn't ever shut up and everything you see there is a process where your brain connects and registers and updates you on everything whether it's a memory, an acknowledgement or counting particular objects. Just fast fast fast all the time. I think for me, that's why music and dancing, well they don't mellow it out, they just sync with it and it all makes sense. It's like a POW and done. I'm complete. It's what writing feels too and I've not had this feeling about anything ever in my whole life. An inhibitor making sense. Tooshay.

Just being

Well well, what a turn! Things are mellowing out and now I'm having to get used to particulars in my life going well!

For once things aren't going bad, really bad, for me. Which is nice! It does take some getting used to.

I've been working earlies this week, 7am-3pm. It's been so cold I haven't bothered walking in and have taken the bus instead. I call it my thinking time (as If I dont' do enough thinking already)... perhaps it's the momentum, there's just something different about travelling by transport which gets your mind going, perhaps in a more refreshed way.

I also took a walk from Bank to Waterloo to journey for a blood test at St Thomas' hospital. The nurse had trouble getting the needle in, my veins weren't showing up and she poked me in the most different place on my arm where I have had a blood test before. It hurt, but I quite enjoyed staring at the needle with blood liquor pouring out.

Saturday will start with an awesome breakfast, probably black cafetiere coffee and pastries bought from Sainsburys-a tradition I have kept going for most of a year now. One or two? I'm not so sure how much I should eat, but I know how much I'd like to eat! £1.20 deals for two makes it all the more interesting for my taste buds! Later, I shall make my way to the fourth week of my creative writing course; I really can't wait for it this week, I feel quite settled with it now and already my mind is being opened to a new way of thinking towards words.

Sunday, lunch with Hazal, in a pub. Awesome yum. And then pack pack pack clean!!! for the big flat move on Monday. I CANNOT WAIT!

Getting back to my momentumous journey, I've been thinking about me as a teenager. A miserable curtain, a girl who became fairly shut off from most around her. I gave off the impression that I was better than everyone else, I used to get called a snob where my speech was filled with desires that I had things better than others. Words said just to piss people off, judgement for a reaction just so I'd feel better about myself. Silly scared girl. All we really should have been doing was to be friends. I ended up keeping myself to myself so much and closing everyone off around me, and who ended up loosing out the most.

Only me. 

It's perhaps why I find it amazing when people seem to like me these days, I think why would anyone be interested!? 

So we learn from past behaviour and learn how to behave now. I'm very grateful for the people I have in my life now, things seemed to change when I went to uni. Whether it was because of the mix of people, or people because I saw the mix of people and for once didn't feel the outsider. Things just started to click and even now all seems to just keep getting better. It's so nice and I am super dooper grateful.

I MUST WRITE!

Soon! Today!

First i'm going to try and feel my limbs, they might be a bit frozen!

I hear this a lot: It's not you it's me

It's an odd feeling to watch one part of your life soar beyond expectations and the other part of your life go down the toilet. It's odd because you realize how well they balance each other out. You can't be happy about the good or devastated by the bad. You're just sort of there while it all happens.

These past six or so months have been hard. I'm not sleeping. I'm not eating well. And whenever I tell myself, "Self, you can't keep doing what you're doing. Something's got to give," I'm met with all this hostility. Like I'm angry with myself for having limitations. Like I'd spit in my own face if I could.

I thought I had gotten rid of that part of myself, the part that always shows up to kick me in the proverbial gonads whenever something bad happens. For the past couple of years, ever since I realized just how cruel that dark passenger could be, I've made a conscious effort to be kind to myself. Or as my therapist put it, to not say anything to me that I wouldn't let someone say to a close friend.

And yet, here I am, cowering down inside of myself, afraid to say things like "I'm tired" or "it's OK" or "I know things are bad, but I should work through them anyway" because I know that when I do, that other side of myself will zoom in like the Tazmanian devil, spouting off all these things about how I'm stupid and ugly and worthless and nothing will ever be right again because the common denominator in all of them is me, and I always find a way to screw things up.

So mostly I just don't do anything. And then I feel stressed because I should be doing something. And then I feel guilty because I should have done something months ago but didn't, and now I don't even know where to start or how to apologize or any of that stuff.

So I do more of nothing, and the cycle starts all over again.

Things will get better, though. They always do. I just have to wait for the storm to pass, is all.

We should have been dancing

I still keep looking back at you like you are an answer to that hit I once took too many times by choice and blind blissful ignorance, a bliss so tender and long phased by. That gleam in your eye I once knew and grew to like after reels of rolled out words, where whisper could not be heard only meaning in your whys.

There's a precious moment you get which we had and we had a lot of the time. I got tucked in at night with you curled around me I still thought you were blind. A sloppy sound of a gruff and grunt where small circles covered the white. There need not be sun If I were to be around you.

I'm still angry at the waste. I'm still angry at the waist. I'm still angry at the weight.

We should have been dancing, it's what we did best. Our time, our right time when most made sense. I think that room became the hopeless place we trapped ourselves behind face. 

You wanted me to call you. You don't surprise me anymore and that isn't polite. I might eat my own hand if this doesn't stop, if the good gets angry and it doesn't stop. What if you don't stop? Baby what if you don't stop and you think too hard and the vein comes back and...

A night when you get back it builds and feel like a fool for telling because what else is there left if you don't get release. Those times when you just got everything we synched. We got silly and laughed and I write this for you because you knew all along, as we both did. With change there's always an end.

Just you wait

I need to write soon, I will. Just you wait.

Polyamory article

I can't comment yet, as my 'polyamory' lifestyle was very mixed and so up and down there is still a level I need to reach in order to begin an opinion.

Read this, and see what you think.

Cut throat

"Cold blooded"... just a little quote full of historic banter.

If I can't say out loud what I feel, I may as well type the drivel. And it's not going to be pretty. I think it all has to come out here, as a log. Regardless of consequences? Perhaps. Who am I protecting really? Because I don't think it's been a case of just protecting me for a long time and that is after all one of my issues, control. It gets a bit silly that, as it just makes me more anxious desire for control. All I ever do on this blog is say some and not reveal all-I have always been told to be more honest and only in emails does it seem to be more true with less walls.

Fuck it. Lets see what happens, it's instinct after all. Come what may.

Saw

By myself to write anything. OOmf talk about motivating...

That white stripes song comes to mind

I made a nice veggie bake last night. It had olives in it. I slept from 9pm and woke at 5.30am. Lets see how today goes and If I can change my brain. I think of my friends who suffer too, there's at least 4. We all know the crazies. I think of structure, the lack of it. I think of Saw. The film. One which shit me up to no good as a teenager. It was the puppet which ruined me, now I think it's the moral. People being punished for cutting themselves into a life of misery. John, takes their lives into his own hands, as he dies of cancer, and highlights the beauty of life by putting those into a really ugly one, all to last no more than minutes in a life or death scenario. On a exagerrated scale, it's what depression feels like-quick decisions in minutes to maintain your existance. Staring out of a bus thinking if you had the balls, what would you do with yourself today? From recent experience I feel like I should know more then anyone about life and its potential; after seeing mum fade and the worn expression on her face from time to time knowing she could see what will. Is. Left behind her. For me, it feels like there is too much time, like this. And then it feels like there isn't any time for anything whatsoever and I am at the end already like a black swarm.

I need to get better at reminding myself of what I have. I sound so ungrateful. My body feels backwards and my head is 2 metres ahead. It's what writing by hand feels like, a page infront of you with your words and your brain racing on ahead-your hand can't catch up with your thoughts.

I think my treatment has become too practical. I'm a master at avoiding to acknowledge what really is going on. I'm a master at keeping busy, or doing nothing and being a heavy weight champion trapped. I'm a master at feeling disappointed by a lack of surprise, something out of the ordinary. I know my expectations are too high and depression is pretty selfish at times. But what do I do when I have nothing, and I lay in silence having to face what exists as now. That is the scariest part.

I have my wonders in small things, which sounds contradictory to everything i've just said. But it's those small peaks which define me and my day. This little ball of fire which I carry around all the time, I can't even see it but I feel it and the weight, well... I don't want to give up, I know I don't. I need to get better at reminding myself and telling myself what is there now mum has gone. Change always triggers and I can't get her back, nothing can replace. I'll have to get better at switching off. I will get better instead of snapping at things. I will remember to breathe.

This all feels like a permanent come down. Sinkkkkkkkking, a constant back and forth where your body is telling you one thing yet your brain says another. If there was just a switch to turn it all off, well, that isn't life is it. That is not being human, we can't be robots forever on endless substance and produce. We have to get on with ourselves, it's what we are. This is all becoming a bit of a rant now and you can tell I had a whole dangerous afternoon to myself. It's all ok, it's all going to be ok. I just don't believe that, yet.

Glazed saturday

Glazed Saturday wet window fresh. I'm glad its got a bit colder, I've missed that bit of oomph freeze.

Today I start my creative writing course, 'ExcIIITE'!!! And then after, I meet a lovely someone for a dinner date. Things generally are flowing a bit better and work is going well. I'll work on trying to relax and having more energy; last time I had no energy...well it led to me being ill and freaked me out a lot. A disgusting time of my life-it wasn't forever, but it has a lasting effect after.

I've been told to try a regular bed time. I haven't slept well for the last 11 years because my brain likes to spiral, so my challenge is this week (it's meant to be for 7-14 days), to not get into bed until I'm very very tired. If I can't sleep, I must get up and walk about and do something even if it's up until 2am. It's going to be interesting considering I'll be up at 5.30am this week for work. But, I have felt better before after 3 hours of deep sleep compared to 5 tossing and turning and having strange dreams.

Most people could rely on caffeine, but I'm meant to be cutting down as my iron intake was so low my levels dropped to 3 instead of being in the 70 range. So, coffee to a minimum, lets see how stimulant less life is, dealing with insomnia.

My tasks this month, because I must always have a plan:

Kick estate agents arse
Work on sleeping pattern
Begin to pack! (and cut down stuff)
Run and toning exercises (need to get rid of that silly side squidge so I don't look too much like a lava lamp)
Food diary-banning bread the way to go?

Oh yeah, and working on relaxing!!!!!!!!!!

Favourites

"You think love is simple. You think the heart is like a diagram."

"Have you ever seen a human heart? It looks like a fist, wrapped in blood! Go fuck yourself!"

'Step away from the ledge and let yourself fall into the world.'

Cary Tennis I have missed you.

'You have touched on something fundamental. In a dream, it might be something like this: You and I are making our way along a narrow ledge on an enormous sandstone wall high above the city, feeling our way, suspended above the world, thinking if we keep going we will eventually storm the castle. Now we see we will never get over the wall. The ledge does not spiral up; we will always come back to where we were. The only thing to do is to let go and fall backward into the world, where we wake up.

That is the only way. Step away from the ledge and let yourself fall into the world.'

Some words I read today

“While I can’t have you, I long for you. I am the kind of person who would miss a train or a plane to meet you for coffee. I’d take a taxi across town to see you for ten minutes. I’d wait outside all night if I thought you would open the door in the morning. If you call me and say ‘Will you…’ my answer is ‘Yes’, before your sentence is out. I spin worlds where we could be together. I dream you. For me, imagination and desire are very close.” 

Jeanette Winterson