Dracula Moon

I'm starting to wonder if there are any genuinely good people left. I know this sounds very dramatic and dare I say, whiny, but I'm starting to lose hope. Perhaps it's just that everyone (like myself) is riddled with insecurity and self-doubt. But where I internalize and just abuse myself, other people project their stuff on to the people around them. Or maybe everybody just gets beat up all day long; by their kids, their spouses, their ex-spouses, their coworkers, and food service employees. And maybe they gather all that up and exploit the one shred of power they have over someone else.

Or maybe I just need to get over it.

I turned 27 a couple weeks ago, and I've been crafting a to-do list of things I want to accomplish before I turn 30. I realize that 30 is three whole years away, but since I barely noticed the past 27 years I figure it's time to get crackin'. Sadly, I have decided to omit my goal of learning to skateboard. I realized that I don't really want to learn how to skateboard. I just want to be automatically good at skateboarding. I don't want to go through that fall-all-the-time-as-you're-learning phase. So here it is, in no particular order.

1. Learn Spanish.
2. Learn how to operate a sewing machine and successfully sew things for myself.
3. Start reading books about world history.
4. Travel to Italy.
5. Travel to France.
6. Travel to Greece.
7. Learn how to make a cheesecake.
8. Lose enough weight so that I can go down two full dress sizes.
9. Buy a couch.

I think I'm going to start by learning Spanish. My friends got me a bookstore gift card for my birthday, and I'm going to put it to good use.

Don't worry mother, it'll be alright
And don't worry sister
Say your prayers, and sleep tight
And it'll be fine, lover of mine
It'll be just fine

I Know Where It's Not

Got back from vacation yesterday. Wish I was not back from vacation. Wish vacation never had to end.

So I've been sad for the past 24 hours. Crying and pacing. Attempted to read/watch movies/talk to friends to no avail. Took a bath. More pacing, or maybe just more roaming aimlessly from room to room. Finally went to grocery despite having no appetite.

I really want to talk about the great times I had last week, and I will very soon. Right now, I'm just a little raw and emotional to give a rundown. So instead of dwelling on that, I've decided that I need to remind myself of all the people in my life who I'm grateful for. I haven't done this in awhile, and it seems more productive than reminding myself how much I miss something I just can't have right now.

1. William. For being my best friend and the greatest travel buddy a girl could ask for.
2. Bigs and Beeler. For serenading me with what was quite possibly the greatest rendition of the 'Happy Birthday' song.
3. Mom. For being there, always.
4. Chris. For reminding me that I deserve better than I allow myself to believe I deserve.
5. Andrew. For smart-ass birthday cards that never cease to crack me up.
6. Ryan. For being the most angelic and precious little boy I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. I can't wait to see the person you grow up to be.

Lumina
Come and wrap around me
Lumina
Take me through the snow

Eve took a fruit, Eve picked a fruit
Juice ran down her chin
Babies will put things in their mouths
Never heard of sin

Lumina
Open like the sea
Lumina
Sing me in the dark

Eve had to ask, Eve had to ask
What is wrong with this
Here is the place, now is the time
Let's invent the kiss

What it all comes down to

I purged last weekend, but not in a bad way. I was doing some spring cleaning, and reorganizing my bookshelves to accommodate a bunch of new reading material I've purchased over the past six months. And while not alarming in number, I did notice that I have quite a few books on diets. And by diets, I mean fairly restrictive eating and exercise plans that are nearly impossible to maintain over a lifetime. I was struck with the realization that this may be one of those 'garbage in, garbage out' kind of things. Those books peer out from their shelves at anyone who uses my living room. Perhaps it is not the healthiest thing to have all of my past fails at diet attempts staring me in the eye when I'm trying to relax.

I contemplated boxing up the books and donating them to the library. But then it struck me that perhaps this may just perpetuate the problem. Maybe I'm just adding proverbial fuel to the proverbial fire by passing along material that is essentially weight loss propaganda. So, instead I took my box of books to my local recycling center. I was thrilled to see that my books could be recycled into something that may actually benefit my fellow citizens.

I'm still in this really weird restless, kind of mopey and contemplative place. I'm hoping my vacation next week will help me relax and clear my mind.

There's really no hope for me
And that three second rule
Somethin gets dropped
And still I'm the slowest damn fool
Slow to realize what's really going on
Slow to know in a moment
Who or what has gone wrong

I wanna tighten down on the lag time

Your consonants were buzzing
Around your head like flies
Your true colors were showing
And your shape and your size
You were drinking your way though it
I was shrinking right there inside of my clothes
My eventual twenty/twenty
Arms crossed
Tapping her toe

Girl, Corrupted

I've had a really tough month, so I am incredibly grateful that April is just a couple hours away. Not that flipping a page in my calendar is going to solve everything, but I'm hoping I will get some inspiration from my upcoming vacation.

My last session with Dr. Gray left me feeling deflated and defeated. I think it's safe to say that I've made a lot of progress in the last year. The problem is that I keep hitting this cement wall every few months and there just doesn't seem to be some tangible way to push past it.

I love to dance. I danced for 11 years, and even now, over a decade after I've left it behind, I still can't find a high that compares to dancing. I've been taking a hip-hop class once a week for the past few months, and for that hour every week I leave feeling like I can take on the world. Yet somehow, there is still that resonating voice that tells me I don't deserve to feel good and like dance. I don't deserve other pleasures because I'm not good enough. And I'm not good enough because I'm not thin enough.

See, the problem is that I'm fighting a voice that is almost as old as I am. A voice that has a lot of back story on me. A voice that knows every weakness and guilt and sorrow I've ever felt. And most of all, a voice that is vengeful and vindictive. Of what, I don't know.

I know that I don't want to stop fighting that voice. And I know that I need to convince myself that I do deserve to have a hobby that is fulfilling, relationships where I feel loved, and a career that is rewarding. I want to be able to hold on to what I have right now, even if it's not what I want to be right now. I'm tired of holding my breath and waiting for my life to be different.

This is probably the point where I should make some self-proclamation and declare that I'm going to take a course action. But I'm not, because I don't know what that looks or feels or acts like. What I do know is that I'm not ready to quit fighting. I know it's going to be sad and angry and probably lonely, but I can't keep falling down because of a shame I don't deserve to feel.

Time to tell me the truth
To burden your mouth for what you say
No pieces of paper in the way'
Cause I can't continue pretending to choose
The opposite sides on which we fall
The loving you laters, if at all
No right minds could wrong be this many times

My memory is cruel
I'm queen of attention-to-details
Defending intentions if he fails
Until now, he told me her name
It sounded familiar in a way
I could have sworn I'd heard him
Say it ten thousand times
If only I had been listening

Chocolate Evolution

Last night, one of my friends hosted a party to celebrate the premiere of The Hills new season. My affinity for this show is a bit on the ridiculous side. Part of it has to do with the fact that I relate really strongly to Lauren, the shows main character. Not the whole 4500 square foot apartment, Mercedes Benz, fashion line, and VIP access to exclusive clubs part. I more relate to the way she behaves in relationships.

So last night, we settled in with some (ok, more than some) wine and watched our heroine navigate the mean streets of the concrete jungle. MTV had really outdone itself; the network hosted a huge premiere party at some fabulous location and even coerced Mariah Carey into spitting some rhymes at the end of the show. And sadly, I loved every damn second of it. But here is what I'm not understanding:

1. Why did Brody feel it necessary to act like he wanted a relationship with Lauren before she left for Paris? She wasn't putting any pressure on him to commit to her. And why show up with a different 'girlfriend' and hang around Lauren's roommate? Why offer something that wasn't even being asked for, and then stomp all over it for no reason?

2. When will Spencer realize his own douchebaggedness?

3. Why didn't Lauren hook up with the hottie French musician? Short of finding Peter Krause in my shower, there is nothing sexier than a cigarette smoking Frenchie on a Vespa.

4. What were the repercussions of the burnt gown? And how adorable was the replacement gown?

5. How soon do we get to see more of Lo?

I have to preface my next statement by saying that I love Mariah Carey. My formative years were spent singing her songs to myself in the mirror. I wore her albums out on my tape player. That said, who the H does she think she's fooling? That performance was so not live. Ok, maybe it was live because Mariah was actually standing there, breathing and in person. But those vocals have a definite expiration date. And what was that blathering about the trainer that moved into Mariah's house and was boring but effective? What? Bring the old Mariah back. You know, the girl who wore that black cocktail dress to her first five public performances? The one who really had a seven-octave range? The one who couldn't really dance, but shook her booty anyway?

You'd trade your place for a brighter sun to come your way
Walking contradiction now I'm a mess I cannot say
It's ok, it's ok, I hope I will be ok
So come on I'm screaming now how much I need you to stay

And if the night left you alone
And if the days leave you cold
I'll trade a symphony for a song
I'll leave the light on by your home

Kiss My Ass Just Sounds Bitter

I thought that this morning I would wake up with some clarity and relief from the uncertainty of the past few weeks. No such luck. I do however, think I'm starting to figure out why I'm feeling out of sorts on such a macro level.

I've really been working to process my feelings as they relate to my recovery from an eating disorder. And lately, I've been feeling really vulnerable. I don't know how long it's been since I've had an episode, but I know it's been awhile. I'm trying not to count the days, because it seems that when I start to do that, it brings the purge option back to the table, and I'm really trying to avoid even the consideration of old habits. That said, the past week or so I've been feeling really sad. Not that scary, depressed kind of sad, but a sad like I lost a friend. I know this may sound completely masochistic, but in a way I'm mourning my eating disorder. I'm starting to realize that even if tomorrow morning I dropped right back into every old habit I had four years ago, it wouldn't do the same thing for me that it did four years ago. It's like returning to your hometown after you've grown up and discovering that although nothing has really changed, everything is completely different from how you remembered it. It's a very raw, nerve exposed feeling. And to be completely honest, I hate feeling this way.

There is a part of my insides screaming for me to cover up, to not leave myself open to heartbreak and loneliness and disappointment. I'm terrified of what might happen if I actually let myself lean into my emotions. I'm afraid that I am not strong enough to cope with those emotions and I'll just turn into this shell of a human being. But then, I feel a tug from some place closer to my heart and I just know that I am strong enough to keep going. And that the closest my self has been to a shell was during the years I was drowning in an eating disorder.

So, as much as I want to just relax and maybe lay in bed for the rest of my life, I know that's not an option right now. And I know that would be the worst disservice to myself. Regardless of how many outside influences make me feel less than worthy, I'm refusing to believe I'm anything besides amazing.

These back steps are steeper to the ground
The brightest stars are falling down
I'm walking the edge, walking the tightest rope
We can be frank, reality rips on through, rolling like a hurricane
I'm over the bridge and under the rain

Maybe Blink 182 Had It All Wrong

I'm starting to worry that I'm too old. Ok, not too old, that's the wrong term. I'm starting to feel ill prepared true adulthood. And by true adulthood, I mean life as a 30-something. Next month, I will celebrate the arrival of my 27th year of life. I'm not angsty about getting older, in fact I'm welcoming my 30s with open arms. Oh, to be done with all of this personal and professional undulation. To be poised, and revered, and socially at ease. Well, maybe being 30 won't mean a change in personality. And given some of the encounters I've had with 30-something women lately, I may just decide to hit pause on 29. I guess I'm just circling back around to the question of 'what next?'.

I'm not one of those girls who has always wanted to get married. I never played 'here comes the bride' or thought about flower schemes and bridesmaid dresses. Even when I was engaged for a brief period of time, I didn't so much as cast a sideways glance at bridal magazines. I have no fucking sense of what it would be like to have a husband, let alone children and family pets. I'm not against marriage; I've seen it do both really wonderful and really terrible things for people. I am moderately terrified of the idea of having someone in my living space for the rest of my life, but I also love the idea of coming home to my best friend every day for the rest of my life. I guess I just feel a little like an alien because marriage isn't something that I've definitely penciled into my five year plan. What if I'm supposed to be all ethereal and romantic and brush up on my ironing and vacuuming skills? What if I'm supposed to want more than just hand holding on the couch during my favorite TV show? What if I'm selling my self short?

But I think it's more than that, and I like that part of myself. I get excited about the fact that I've beaten my last score in Brick Break. I like only having to buy groceries for myself. I like knowing that I can pack up at any given time and leave - whether it be for a day or a year - and not have to get permission from anyone but myself. My discomfort in being older doesn't have to do as much with what I expect of myself, but more of what I think everyone else is expecting of me. There is something so magnetic about having an unknown future. Sure, it's scary. But it also takes the possibility door off its hinges.

I remember reading a short story somewhere that basically said that there is nothing we should be doing. That as long as we treat people kindly and take care of our own well being, we're following the right path. I don't really know if it gets much better than that. So whenever I get nervous that my career isn't advancing as quickly as it should be, or that my boyfriend at the time may not be the person I should be with, I try to remind myself that I am exactly where I should be. And this will be the case whether I'm 26, 36, or 46.

I certainly haven't been shopping for any new shoes, and
I certainly haven't been spreading myself around
I only travel by foot and by foot it's a slow climb
But I'm good at being uncomfortable so
I can't stop changing all the time

If there was a better way to go than it would find me
I can't help it the road just rolled out behind me
Be kind to me, or treat me mean
I'll make the most of it, I'm an extraordinary machine.