flagrant

after spending the day shopping for this upcoming trip, stressing out about pet boarding options, and then dealing with the side effects of zoloft, chuck and i are finally ready to depart for peru.

the suicidal ideation brought on from this trial of antidepressant is sounding an incredibly loud alarm. we should have cancelled this entire journey, but this vacation will serve as a distraction which will help facilitate getting on the medicine.

on the other hand, perhaps in a rage, i will snap and define an alternate meaning of 'how to kill oneself' while hiking the inca trail.

- to the vitamin shoppe for seven protein bars
- to adventure 16 for thermal sportswear and miscellaneous outdoor gear
- to rei sporting goods store for an overpriced but better selection
- to trader joe's for individual envelopes of powdered soup mix
- to sports chalet for disposable chemical handwarmer packets
- to blow a patagonia gift card on a trekking jacket and clothing for chuck
- to walgreens for diamox tablets to avoid andean altitude sickness
- to the los angeles public library to return 30+ checked out books

even after boarding the cat this afternoon, we still viewed canceling this trip as a respectable option. the zoloft is exciting practically timed episodes of a worsening, intense, weepy depressions. it is neither attractive nor fun to begin crying in the middle of a store or other public place for no reason other than this trial pill. though the instances of suicidality have been lasting under a half of an hour, at five or six times a day, they are not only annoying but quite frightening. the flip side to feeling chemically suicidal is not half bad, possibly explained as being content.

i considered asking motherfigure to tag along to south america (since she was the person who suggested we take a vacation to begin with) but mom is only twenty years older and hasn't a grasp on spontaneity yet. how ludicrous to suggest she grab a bag and meet up en route. as a perpetual traveler, i can pack for an international jaunt in under five minutes flat-- never forgetting anything -- but my mom would have needed more than 48 hours notice to prepare for something 'as overwhelming' as a flight to peru. i can appreciate that, but...

what's the big deal? it's a vacation! whatever happens, happens. really, what could possibly go wrong aside from getting robbed or killed, enduring unexpected extremes in temperature, altitude sickness, running into 'foreign food intolerance' and having it summon you into a third world bathroom, or paying for a surprise which is apt to be prohibitively expensive?

yep, last harness buckled and checked. i am on and ready.

chuck and i have airline tickets to lima and a reservation for one night at a respectable tourist class hotel in miraflores- an upscale district of the city where one finds internationally branded hotels and restaurants. by intentionally ignoring to accept the 'perceived safety' of the jw marriott, we will have started out slightly uncomfortable for chuck, but on the right foot.

after that...? if i can convince him to leave the security of the miraflores 'tourist hub' might we travel to the south coast to see mummies at the cemetery of chauchilla? perhaps too pedestrian, but we could charter an airplane and its pilot for a flight over the nazca lines. definitely we will book flights to cusco, for the inevitable visit to machu picchu, but we currently have no idea and will plan along the way.

okay, here we go-- invalid friend chuck and i are off to explore peru.

a different business actually named "the cat hotel" in burbank accepted paws for boarding. they requested a waiver be signed stating their "luxury cat-only resort" would not be responsible if my pet were to fall ill from his stay.

having never done this before, i had no idea what to leave with the cat aside from a blanket, few toys to ignore, and a stuffed toucan for a sense of familiarity. stupid me, i forgot to bring his dishes but they had many of numerous materials to choose from. paws is particular and refuses to drink from ceramic bowls.

their kennel service includes cable television on small screens in large cat condominiums, but if there is a next time, i will bring along a radio tuned to what he consistently hears at home. that's a very funny thought- the other cats would lounge in front of the discovery channel or animal planet while paws listened to "the john and ken show" rant about illegal immigration and the importance of the california border police initiative on kfi 640am.

after deciding to relax my grip a little bit, the roller coaster took a sudden nosedive. the cat hotel where paws was to be boarded during our vacation has cancelled our reservation. no other facilities appear to accept cats who have been vaccinated within the two weeks prior to their check-in date. paws absolutely needs to be housed or we will cancel our flights to peru (-- then chuck and i will scream at each other all week about this great loss of money and his miscalculated vacation). who knew that trying to be responsible by updating the cat's shots would be such a problem? we thought we were taking more care than required.

paws is extremely loud and doesn't do well alone for very long. the running joke is that he became mentally ill back in march of 1999. paws had been left alone in an apartment during a weekend i needed to spend in paris. almost abruptly after returning home from france, i spent the following weekend vacationing in kauai. ever since returning from the hawaiian islands, he completely resides in the bathroom when home by himself. if paws stayed home alone, the worst case scenario could be irritated neighbors, an expensive hoa fine, and possibly the involvement of animal control-- he really is that loud.

obviously there are too many anxiety issues to allow a pet sitter other than chuck into my home to tend to paws. how am i supposed to figure this one out before the flight leaves? where is he supposed to go? if we do find a pet boarding facility which accepts him, is paws the threat, or are the other cats threatening to his health?

suddenly i am extremely excited about traveling to south america. accommodations have been reserved for our night of arrival, but other than that, the entire vacation remains open for whatever chuck and i choose to do. time is too limited for proper biodiversity expeditions, but one possibility is to volunteer to survey macaws in the tambopata region of the amazon basin. i imagine chuck would see a visit as this as "work" and prefer to rent a 4x4 or take an adventurous white water rafting trip through the national reserve. i'm up for anything except another four day pilgrimage to machu picchu. if chuck decides he wants to visit the citadel, no problem. having fought off those crowds of escorted tourists long before the advent of digital cameras, i would rather drive than hike the inca trail.

consider: to eat or not to eat in peru?

guilt: canceling the snowboarding trip to chile last week.
excuse: illness, disastrous week of depression and medications.

guilt: visiting virtually the same region of the world this week.
consider: restarted the same medicine last night in liquid form.
note: the medicine is the problem and not its inert ingredients.
consider: zoloft makes me feel mentally broken, not itchy.

the flights to south america on continental are confirmed.
elite seating has been assigned.
a credit card payment was already scheduled to cover the charge.
invalid friend chuck and i depart for peru late monday night.
i would rather stay home but will have a good time...
i swear.

god, when did i become such a wuss?

after visiting the fifth pharmacy today, i declared that no zoloft in an oral concentrate preparation can be found in southern california. one bewildered pharmacist who was working the graveyard shift at rite aid, told me that particular location stocked the largest supply of pharmaceuticals in the area, but followed up by asking if liquid zoloft was newly released on the market. uh, nope.

i also suddenly don't mind to be on a first name basis with the pharmacy technicians who work at costco in northridge. even though a membership card is not required to purchase medicines, one still must walk through the warehouse amid towering stocks of multiple packaged goods to reach the pharmacy counter.

costco wholesale prices are the best in the area on prescription drugs, but otherwise, each visit confirms how i lack any need to buy one of their 'gold star' memberships.

do i need to buy a three pack, cellophane bundled, ten-count box of (intestine-paralyzing) balance bars? no. would a vinyl 'leather-like' jacket ever find a reason to ride home in my car? nope. what about power tools? do i need them, and if i did, is there a benefit of buying the generic brands offered? certainly not. i'm sure they offer a vast selection of things i could use, but none of the items stand out when i am trying to navigate my nervousness around an unfamiliar floorplan.

regardless, where does costco's price point fall in comparison to other discount or grocery stores? how much does a bag of lettuce trio salad mix cost? how much does a pint of blueberries run? wait, no! never will i want to admit to lazily buying pre-shredded salad in a bag. people often post good reviews heralding the grocery quality and discounted gasoline. the northridge location lacks a fueling station.

if the main check out lines are always a queue of ten customers deep, then the price of my time will outweigh any savings. costco did not stock what i needed but was happy to provide anti-malarial pills and fill the other international travel-related prescriptions i keep folded in my passport. as for the availability of liquid zoloft, they could order and then present it to me within 24 hours.

while i was there i did see one reason to buy a membership-- it is required to use the optical center. given the combination of their discount and my strong prescription 'hi index' lenses, the price of membership would pay for itself if only buying one pair of eyeglasses. no 'transitions' photochromatic/photochromic in 1.67 'hi index' material, though.


photograph of an eyedropper filled with liquid zoloft

now what? paying through the nose at walgreens should they stock the oral concentrate remains an option. their price point is outrageously expensive-- i haven't even gone there to see if they have it. an independent chemist with weekend hours could be sought out. an inquiry was made at the pharmacy in the ucla medical center and even their extremely busy westwood location will not have it available until later this next week.

[later, after reluctantly taking the expensive trip to walgreens:]

- annoyed at paying $100 for a liquid version of this crap.
- annoyed for playing along with the ssri fun when i know better.
- annoyed that valid anxiety appears to need to be alleviated.

[AND:]

- it's irritating that anxiety disorder is not viewed as a safety net to ensure that past problems never resurface. amplified anxiety, racing thoughts, and panic do serve a purpose in my life at the present time.

anxiety is intense because old problems were intense.

"hey mom, chuck and i were thinking of traveling to peru on monday. do you still have days off or do you have to go to work? want to meet up with us in lima? having acclimatized in cusco, we could wander through the andes, and also take in the scenery around lake titicaca... possibly flying out from bolivia next week. so, do you want to go?"

does anyone else live like this?

more prescriptions today. i may need to buy a designated storage chest for all of these little orange bottles of terrorizing entertainment.

the first prescription is for the familiar ativan (a tolerated anti-anxiety medicine which lets me sleep) and for the second, resident doctor #4 and i have chosen to begin another microscopic trial of zoloft. the difference is in formulation (oral solution) and dosage (90% less than the previous infant-sized dose which worsened my depression). testing out this antidepressant last week was a frightening paradox but i have yet to express an appropriate opinion on the total experience. yesterday, i could not discern if the tiny benefit of eliminating ocd rituals was in fact monumental, or if all unfortunate and unusual influences invalidate its future use. the zoloft oral solution looks so much better on paper than the tablet form. it lacks the majority of common excipients (inert pharmaceutical material such as fillers and fd&c food colorings) which are known to bother me.

rather than a quarter of a tablet, or an eighth of a dose, or just licking the dust off of the top of the childproof container, i have silly directions: take one quarter of a dropper of happy serum, dilute into one cup of water, and then only drink one quarter of the solution. while sipping that, please gorge on half of an ativan to keep your inner hissing hannibal in check.

consider: if i now try out one tenth of last week's infant-sized dose of zoloft, does that mean it might only lead me one tenth of the way to the bridge? from my understanding, that is a very, very busy intersection.

why is it so difficult for me to tell someone to take a hike? if i can't tell chuck to pack up all of his memories and exit my life, at the very least it should be stated that i don't want to vacation with him. the thing is, he can linger in my world and continue to give me his paycheck- just not when he is stressed with work and has extra time off.

it's unfair. chuck puts up with an anorexia lifestyle, the complex maze of ocd directed purging, and all of my other mental hobbies, and so it would appear he is entitled to a break. i should suck it up and deal with him since he deals with me, right? yes, but no. it may be mean but the truth is, chuck chose to deal with all of my germs. i never agreed to any of his. we are not married and even though it's been said i can make hell freeze over, that still wouldn't be grand enough to grant me any flexibility on this.

"i have almost run out of love for you," was intentionally spoken flatly. raising my voice and screaming angry sentences would never plant the same psychological effect. it was a lie. no compassion remains but he gets paid today, and given the situation, i think my sentence was pretty damn eloquent.

i
do
not
want
to
go
anywhere

i think it's going to be peru.

motherfigure has decided:
1) the hurricane wilma tragedy "only happened only to her."
2) to cancel her airline ticket to cancun.
3) that we all should vacation "at another time."

chuck:
1) had taken ELEVEN days off from work.
2) has every intention of spending those dates with me.
3) needs a vacation from his mindless job.
4) has been looking forward to a trip.
5) is up for anything, anywhere.

i:
1) would like to spend a week or two home alone.
2) should neither cancel nor double up any doctor appointments.
3) would miss at least two office visits, possibly three.
4) cannot yet con chuck into traveling home to visit his family.
5) like how that family visit would mean no hotel expenses.
6) want desperately to call his mother and buy his ticket.
7) cannot get it done without fighting or going into dictator mode.
8) think it would be good for me to be alone: sleep, food, etc...
9) don't want to pay $45 (x 11 nights = $495) to board my cat.
10) don't want to blow my frequent flyer miles on whoknowswhere.
11) certainly don't want to blow my frequent flyer miles on chuck.
12) would rather not cause any problems, either.

chuck figures our vacation starts on monday, immediately after my appointment with resident doctor #4. this is less than a week away but seeing as no definitive plans have been made, we have neither reserved nor purchased airline tickets. having asked chuck where he wants to go countless times throughout the year, he only answers with the word 'somewhere.' how clueless is he about the airline industry? does he know that buying an airline ticket without a seven day advance is prohibitively expensive no matter the distance? does he even care? a miracle worker, i am, but should have known to never publicly demonstrate the practice.

the plan had been to visit with my mother in cancun, and then travel south to guatemala for a few days. with cancun demolished for the time being, neither one of us want to spend all eleven days in the central american jungles- even if we add scuba diving plans and head over to belize. when suggested that the two of us stick with our guate plans but continue on towards honduras and nicaragua, chuck gets noticeably agitated and defaults to his television education. he states he is not "that adventurous" and will not be ready for "that type of trip" for a few more years. what exactly does he think "that type of trip" entails? why would i offer to take on the responsibility of babysitting him if it were apt to be a rough situation?

one must wonder why he would automatically think our little tourist digs would be settled directly in the face of danger. i want to relax, too. beaches, bananas, a bandit or two... travel planning is difficult because chuck has a relatively blank international resume, but it is interesting to see that he thinks i can successfully camp out in the path of violent crime.

what is dumb is that this is another one of those stressful "invisible" situations. a visible stress, for instance a leaking pipe, is one which has a procedure to follow. having educated, secured supplies, and repaired according to directions, the leak from a pipe will stop. on the other hand, trying to perfect a faultless travel itinerary suitable for individuals holding incompatible world views is a lot of pressure. finalizing the destination will not physically hurt either one of us, and in the course of our lives doesn't much matter, so i consider this to be an "invisible" stress. nothing can be damaged by the decision, but this is taking way too much thought and energy. i should immediately render this anxiety invalid. after all of the worldly travels with my mom (the type who is easily mesmerized by international chain restaurants) one would think this useless stress should have been mastered by now.

in the right frame of mind, we could have a good time anywhere, but with pressures at work, i would like to take chuck's brain to a distracting destination. the language and environment need to be confusing rather than comfortable. san diego, singapore, london...? they just won't cut it. vietnam, vladivostok, dar es salaam...? yes, but i don't want to pay for it.

[ the "even though zoloft's half life is much shorter than a week, i think all medicine-related oddness may finally be over" post goes here ]

[ the "purple crocodile leather shoes were delivered by ups today and... yes, coming off of that medicine must have been stranger than it appeared because i am not and WILL NEVER BE in the market for exotic skins" post goes here ]

[ the "it's been a week since stopping the zoloft... this morning several wrong turns were made while driving to my doctor appointment, after the parking meter was fed, i proceeded to walk in the wrong direction for several blocks before coming back to earth... and while sitting with resident doctor #4 in his office, how odd, there was so much confusion that i couldn't even properly count through to the number four aloud" post goes here ]

[ the "this week is continuing to suck" post goes here ]

[ the "zoloft has unbelievably strengthened anorexia" post goes here ]

[ the "zoloft-related hannibal lecter hissing" post goes here ]

[ the "how odd, this morning resident doctor #4 apologized for the scary zoloft-related situations" post goes here ]

spent last night sitting on the louise avenue freeway overpass. at one in the morning, there are never enough cars to allow a fall. rather than considering the thunk, or perpetual blue-speckled blackness of choice, the obsession fixated over the future life of the driver. what would that person do tomorrow? or what if he had a premonition, swerved just in the nick rather than into one, and i found myself reluctantly walking the shoulder of the 101 freeway? the lapd officer would auto-deflect to illicit intoxication. it would then be the worst fractal in time for swollen purple eyelids, a lip split from dehydration, and romantic inflection.

[ the "i told my parents that chuck will soon be eliminated from my life" post goes here ]

[ the "not even one half of a zoloft pill has been taken, and not since monday, yet i remain pathological" post goes here ]

[ the "dinner and ridiculous european birthday present" post goes here ]

twelve minutes. invalid friend has a graduate degree from an acclaimed university but it is taking him over TWELVE minutes to figure out how to use a basic coffee maker.

"you might like to line the filter with cinnamon," i offer, knowing this process may now last another half an hour. he holds up a labelled jar of hot curry powder and instantly asks, "is it this one?"

how hard would it be for him to expend the one second it would take to look at the label before asking for clarification? he can read. where is the disconnection in his brain and why is this 'grab and ask' habit of his continuing to happen? might this be ocd? accident or not, invalid friend is capable of decision making, but this type of persistent checking or confirmation is exasperating. with 300 instances a day, i do my best to hold in the frustration, but anger insists on leaking out around question #299.

however inappropriate, thoughts of faking my own death entertain recent afternoons. an easy escape, and arrogant enough to think it could be pulled off while remaining in the same city, my conscience mocks thoughts of the chicken route. so... it does not exist here.

- took a second tiny speck of zoloft monday morning.
- used a newer pill rather than dividing from the outdated stash.
- rage and touchiness were on high yesterday.
- incredible, but there was no intentional car crash or apartment damage.
- hehe, yet.

- swore i would punch a hole in the wall with my fist just for the hell of it.
- kill someone? now if that is the least that happens today, fine.
- did i mention thoughts of torturing strangers?
- what happened to elevated mood?
note: do NOT want elevated mood.

side effects:
- intentional growling, which is freaking the hell out of invalid friend.
[lacking patience required to type the remaining list]

note: this semi-trial with the zoloft is now over.
consider: i know what happens on ssri meds, why did i try this?

note: to make other people happy, obviously.
consider: how to compensate for the happiness which was given away?
[evil grin]
note: the anti-anxiety ativan is still tolerable.

[ the "increased side effects consisting of unusual behavior and many exaggerated emotional responses" post goes here ]

up and down.
up and down.
up and down.
it's a little confusing.
blame these tiny trials of medicine.

last night i tried a portion of a zoloft pill. rather than experiencing an elevated mood, i now a have renewed interest in starving myself to death. the eating disorder stepped right up to supply me with a list of very difficult rules.

this morning resident doctor #4 suggested drinking ginger tea, as though it were possible or permitted, and anorexia just smiled while silently abstracting the rest of the week's caloric potential. [the eating disorder took the recommendation to drink ginger tea to mean 'it is expected i can just do this and must therefore appear to be fine in his eyes.' it also insists that 'fine' is the equivalent of having a lot of life, health, enjoyment, and weight to lose.]

something, such as tea and regardless of calorie content, is not nothing. i find it offensive to be around people who easily interchange the terms want and need, or something and nothing. these are the same simpletons who cannot understand "the eating disorder says..." to illustrate the compartmentalization of illness during whichever period of time it was written and that i may or may not hold a different view.

[- incredibly foul and long-winded all caps rant about zoloft deleted -]

rain
rain
rain

my mother is retarded but nice.
i am adopted and aloof.
[computes]

three hours after purchasing a round trip flight and forwarding the itinerary to me, motherfigure sent out a panicked e-mail stating that there are no available flights back to her home airport from cancun. [?!]

oh my god, did she think $900 was reasonable for a one way ticket, doesn't know a round trip purchase was made, and is now trying to buy a separate ticket for the return?! her e-mail account seems to be set up to check for new mail every few hours, so i don't believe my directions or advice are of much use. none of this makes any sense as she had been told that virtually any travel agent in her area would be able to set up a package (airfare + hotel + transfers) for under $700 plus taxes.

how much guilt will be experienced if i stand up the snowboarding air canada employee regarding our trip to south america? how much internal sickness will develop should i conceal all concerns and go? am i naive to think our heli-boarding getaway to chile is going to be filled with extreme sports and nothing more? as of last week, sexual worries abound and i fear pressure. [this is the final weekend resort lifts are open for the season, but we are traveling on free vouchers and have decided to go bum around in a 4x4 regardless of snow.] spectacular scenery, sensory overload, and smudged passport stamps are compatible, but a weekend fling (if that's what it is) with an underpaid 26-year-old is unnecessary.

6:13pm: my mom has finally finished the online purchase of her airline ticket. for some reason she spend over $900 and selected flights offering a six hour layover in houston. [i'm not laughing- it's just a tickle in the back of my nose or a little bit of shock to the chest.] NINE hundred dollars?! did this not sound any alarms during the process of purchase? does she have the impression we are all cramming into one hotel room at a downtown roach shack and splitting the cost so $900 was acceptable?

is anyone else's mother as inept as mine? it appears to be taking her over an hour to purchase an airline ticket from travelocity. she is familiar enough with the web to never have an uneasiness with online shopping and decidedly can harass me with lighthearted office fun, but c'mon! though my father and i joke that she cannot add two plus two, this woman has been promoted to a position in hospital administration and recently developed the 2006 budget for an entire hospital chain. her small town lifestyle must be the majority of the problem, but i do wonder how she manages to drive herself to work each day.

refusing to arrange an itinerary, my assumption is that should motherfigure want a last minute mexican vacation badly enough, she will find a flight or two to purchase. chuck and i proposed meeting up with her in cancun, but after four nights of neon, air conditioned convenience, the two of us will head down to guatemala for misty jungle volcano trekking. neither money nor frequent flyer miles have been offered (and her portion of the trip will only be a few nights) but she is still interested in going.

yet.

anti-anxiety medicine, night two:
- took half of the previous night's dose, 1/8th of a tablet
- again experienced sudden surge of anxiety a few minutes later
- ten minutes into it, there were thirty seconds of an intense headache
- lucid dreams: werner schreyer, heroin, my dad, and paths we choose in life
- quality sleep, but body is too underweight for a full night of comfort
- no increase in physical hunger or mental hunger

skin reactions:
- one very small blemish but this could be due to imported ppd sunscreen
- or my hypersensitivity to foods/chemicals?
- possibly due to a cup of raw cranberries?
- or an adapted dmae skin/copper peptide skin care routine?
- or last week's glycolic skin peel?
- or biotin supplements?
- or a sip of coffee which was unexpectantly tainted with a splenda packet?
- or breathing in unavoidable "secondhand drugs" while at a show?

conclusion: there is no concrete reason to invalidate the sedative.

[ the "i have a lot of anxiety about the potentially swelling side effects of zoloft and an increase in weight without any additional food will cause highly disruptive behavior" post goes here ]

- took one quarter of a lorazepam tablet (ativan, anti-anxiety)
- was fine with trying it out, had adequate time to sleep, etc...

- mixed up some bath water and selected a few books for the tub
- experienced intense anxiety ten minutes after swallowing the tablet
- rapid heartbeat, breathing out of my mouth, etc...

- collected the books from the tub, delivered them to the bed
- after 20 minutes or so, calmed down and fell asleep
- ordinarily difficult to obtain two hours, but slept over ten
- experienced multiple vivid dreams
- would have been possible to sleep several more hours, but refused

dream example:
1] rock climbing with a group through smothering avalanches of pan pizza
2] my partner was al bundy
3] al was inexperienced, but trained, innovative, and good with ropes
4] we were trying reach an old physician in austria
5] my brother was trekking with us
6] he refused to try to dissect avalanche philosophy from fact
7] sidetracked by the scene, we all reluctantly waited while he ate
8] it was essential to continue without him or our group would die

easy translation:
1] anorexia recovery is a challenge, hazardous, and occasionally funny
2] al bundy represents resident doctor #4, my unlicensed psychiatrist
3] not a desired omnipotent leader, rd#4 can interestingly twist procedure
4] old doctor + austria = freud, resident doctor #4's replacement
5] brother represents my family and the binge-purge habit
6] happily complacent family and bp both immediately reject anything difficult
7] family and bp slow advancements by doing what comes naturally
8] ignoring family idiocy and bp is hard, but important for life

resident doctor #4 sent me home with a prescription for an infant-sized dosage of zoloft. you are familiar with this medicine- a common ssri antidepressant which has been used to treat a variety of problems.

i had mentioned finding myself balancing on knives during the week, and that in the past, trying out a small dusting of a stashed supply of zoloft had helped to fix the day. "a marked and immediate improvement in mood was experienced without the typical side effects or allergic reactions," i had said. for reasons unknown, resident doctor #4 took 'in the past' to mean 'within the last week' and i then found myself stuck in an alternate level of discomfort. had metabolizing this medicine actually happened recently, it would have been published here in typical anxiety-filled detail. it felt equally weird to redefine our conversation as it did to just let the incorrect facts go.

a dusting of a pill:
- less than 1/8th of the smallest tablet
- a tiny, practically immeasurable amount of medicine

neither one of us think i am allergic to most ingredients my body rejects, rather, intolerance must be related to nutritional profile, level of hydration, body weight threshold, or anxiety. perhaps i may not outwardly feel conflicted with a food, but a reaction can still stem from a deeper passion. i don't digest much variety, have food intake down to scientific measurements, am hyper-sensitive to my internal world, and therefore will notice the minuscule chemical reactions that other people don't feel.

my current state of food intake depends on where one gathers the opinion. it's better and yet it is also worse. let me state that 'better' is how days are now routinely left starved without any struggle. ensuring calorie free days used to take a thermogenic complex, sleeping pills, avoidance, or a little willpower. having typed that out, is it strange to suggest that my nutritional profile may have improved enough to tolerate a recent dusting of zoloft? perhaps. i starve easier but also make better choices when giving in to the slump. this body accepts a small portion of wheat-based products now but rejected grains as recently as last year.

back in the early summer, i balked at the idea but exchanged bottled water consumption for straight los angeles tap water. the additional trace elements pouring out of the faucet have kept my electrolytes in balance and have eliminated the sporadic edema and seizures. the smallest efforts seem to make the greatest difference in health.

resident doctor #4 would REALLY appreciate it if i were to find a way to take a quarter dose of zoloft each night this weekend. what might it do? will it loosen or tighten? why not find out? [but, but... the recently prescribed anti-anxiety medicine has yet to find the path to my mouth.] i may try this but hold the fearful idea that zoloft elevates my mood while making all convictions of weight loss stronger.

chuck is on my back about food and will not shut up.

thirty times now he's pushed, prodded, and the stress in here is intolerable. though it will never happen, anxiety feels sure to cause a heart attack tonight. an argument now. he supposedly would like me to eat dinner to make him happy--

"it will solve the problem," he says. here lies an example of someone who purchased an education, yet refused to develop the brain. it's continual, exhausting, and if i could drop this rock tomorrow it would have already happened. [so i say, or wish or dream. eradicating his companionship is meaningless as chuck is merely one component of a multi-woven problem.]

there is another reason to keep him around. it's filled with unwanted obligation but is better than guilt. he had an accident and his mother requests that...

[thunk]
i [thunk]
take [thunk]
care [thunk]
of [thunk]
him. [thunk]
[thunk]

"please keep an eye on chuck," his mother cried into the phone one time i informed her that the stumpish bastard was about to get sent packing. so what can you do?

the two of us may be on uneven ground tonight but my current attitude doesn't waiver from good days. chuck is welcome to abandon my supervision, relocate to the midwest, and sleep on his mother's salvation army couch any old time he chooses. am i the type to store a special smiley face envelope containing enough cash to cover a greyhound bus fare back home? oh, of course not. i won't let anger directed at anyone cost me a fraction of a cent in bankable interest.

why do i write that?
i may wish to appear, but am not that obnoxious.

it is impossible to eat to make other people happy as it is notoriously countered by a severe bout of forced vomiting. [someone gets upset and wants me to eat. i eat. that person is then relaxed. i am not. i then force the purge and it subsequently calms myself.] one of these days this cycle has to stop and since it is asinine to subscribe to a notion of starting a diet after dessert, what is wrong with tonight?

right feels wrong since maladaptive behaviors are the current norm. contrary to popular belief, and regardless of conduct, i am the only one who points out the truth. this minute i am not making myself sick and he is uncomfortable. no genius is necessary to predict his haywire anxieties. chuck is a human being. there are textbooks written by physicians who have devoted their entire career to watching human emotions. why doesn't chuck understand himself? why doesn't chuck know he will begin to act out in frustration as i change, notice those inappropriate emotions, and then control himself?

[sidebar: he's wearing his bullheaded attitude and doesn't know how to follow a line of debate. i give in to retaliation. calm and smiling, i look up from the keyboard to tell him i would love to extract his teeth. an ephedrine-induced psychopathy must be talking. whenever morning eca stacks are taken and not metabolized out of my body entirely (by adding an additional cycle of exercise), i typically paint horrific physical imagery with my mouth. keep the cocaine away, please. it could be worse.]

funny how when chuck has a horrible day at work, my anorexia seems to be the problem. it is annoying how he cannot connect the two. i baked and ate an appropriate vegetable this afternoon but he neither asked nor gave a damn before forcing the subject. by not choosing an item in the grocery store this evening, i won the title of cold hearted bitch. tsk. that's so 1984. he could have related an appropriate saying. i'd gladly accept obstinate or other truths. chuck should learn to develop an argument rather than spouting off nonsense, then these nights could be entertaining rather than wet.

a cold hearted bitch shouldn't experience the settlement of sadness.
consider: can i use that sentiment for future benefit?
"it's impossible for me to feel sad. you don't affect me."
naw, it's probably mentally ill :)

...and it is here, again, i imagine the answer to the question of how to cope is to just hang on.

this morning an auto dealership updated their inventory and posted availability of a hard to find model which i have been intending to purchase. chuck and i decided we would jump on it, and even though it is a financial felony, reluctantly trade in the old car.

my dad would flip out if he knew i have the intention of paying msrp for a vehicle but this car actually has been appreciating in value. typically a $7500 premium is added to its sticker price. essentially, msrp is the best price for this model if one finds a dealership willing to sell that low.

the showroom was outfitted entirely with mies van der rohe furniture, and it was then i knew there was no way in hell the dealership would sell at msrp. (their website claims they do.) since the inventory had just been delivered, the car was inaccurately priced- lacking a secondary window sticker. the business manager confirmed my only fear and noted the purchase contract did not reflect their additional $10000 (!) premium.

bordering on impossible, i am finding it very hard to get the best price *and* buy an extremely nice car in this stupid flashy society. arrogant salespeople at luxury dealerships have a "well if you can't afford it" attitude relating to additional mark ups. this is an interesting form of lunacy considering they spend their days stalking customers in a parking lot while wearing cheaply sewn suits from j.c. penney. the sentiments of affordability must work on someone but i cannot imagine paying for what basically amounts to a $10000 image tax.

which blogger would you most like to meet?:

avoiding the "everyone is a blogger" or "everyone will have a web presence and essentially be a blogger in some form" technicality; also refusing to name favorites:

each and every blogger whose presentation i have read, and there already is a situation picked out for all of them. the one who considers himself shy or boring, though, this would be a person i would appreciate knowing.

impossible without reciprocating, eh?

consider: the difference between being known and being met.

anti-anxiety medicine:

- dealing with more anxiety due to concerns of these pills
- bought it last weekend, should have tried a speck by now
- i am nervous to be alone at home today
- could really use a dose right now
- should try to take a quarter to half of one of these tablets


- it is 9:00am and instead time for caffeine, stock market, and life!
- i am sensitive to minor side effects and drug interactions
- any small dosage may put me to sleep
- fear of drowsiness... and too many projects to do
- do not want to be tired or miss out on thursday
- on the other hand, nothing important will happen today
- only need enough thursday to do a load of laundry
- fear of becoming the type of person who sleeps through depression


consider: sleepy, unmotivated depressed type = lumpy, untoned body
consider: hyper-agitated insomniac = lovely size zero


- i refuse preservatives, packaged foods, etc...
- will be instantly intolerant and possibly my skin will break out
- fear of itching, hair shedding, sheets of flaky skin, rage
- no thanks


- ideally, a dose should be taken in the early evening
- to let the type-a personality relax for a few hours
- to help calm eating disorders
- to facilitate sleeping schedule


- four out of seven nights i am out until after 11:00pm
- then what? if taken then, i may sleep and miss 4:00am exercise
- or not, but will feel tired and compensate with illicit eca
- which compounds anxiety, doom, insomnia... fat loss


rule: no daily exercise = no daily food
note: rule is non-negotiable


most importantly: this medicine will throw my food schedule off. that first missed situation is not physically the hardest, only psychologically, and therein fuels the potential for unyielding anorexia. it says, "since you missed food yesterday, there is no reason to ever eat again. you got through the worst of it. it will be easy now." it is difficult to shake that part up, or to accept and digest a food after a period of time without any has gone by.

another problem is that i have spent too many years trying to twist all facts or positive situations into something which could hurt. anti-anxiety medication should help alleviate stresses but i am concerned the pills may be ingested only to avoid food and starve entirely. i can't hold the balance here- desperately wanting but yet desperately not wanting to worsen my health. this constant battle between good and evil is compounded with a love story. anything negative is ordinarily held unaffected, as though expected, but today good is good, bad is frightening... and so very attractive.

yesterday started out as a routine resident doctor #4 day, but then i flew up the coast, nailed an audition, and attended the british sea power gig in portland at doug fir. afterward, amid a table congested with coffee paraphanelia and while seated on an uncomfortable iron chair, i set the stage to watch a man fall right into a lie.

he did, now only exists to other people, and should catch on soon enough.

i returned home on united airlines without an upgrade, artfully served penzey's 'whole root china #1 ginger' on an acorn squash, dashed singapore spice on the seeds to save, and am now sitting here regretting expense, life, and heating up the oven on a warm afternoon.

[flight: portland - los angeles]

[flights: los angeles - san francisco - portland]

- an upgraded flight from jfk - lax
- a session with the sink
nothing unbearable happened on sunday

upon request, i attended a photographer friend's promotional appearance in new york and stood side stage as part of his entourage. a sophisticated retinue? one scrambled confederacy of creative strangers? not really. we were all non-threatening crowd filler. a clearer interpretation would be to either call us fake fans or obviously related in some form. afterward, and just like old times, the two of us left for the u2 show at madison square garden but first killed all lingering stress by wildly screaming at each other in his kitchen.

[united airlines flight: san francisco - new york city]

en route to new york, a famous professional athlete asked me out.

[blame it on the red eye flight]
[blame it on complementary alcohol]
[certainly it had nothing to do with me]

consider: would anorexia calm due to being perpetually dwarfed?
note: think about it. he may have been four times my size.

[united airlines flight: los angeles - san francisco]

in regard to weight restoration, resident doctor #4 must enjoy talking to himself. he recommends that i do not "just start to eat" as a phosphorous imbalance known as refeeding syndrome offers the potential for my sudden death. how could that phrase have entered his thoughts? at the current time, fending off my problem and "just starting to eat" is not a possibility. he fears hypophosphatemia-- an electrolyte imbalance. when fed, those larger than normal carbohydrate loads in a malnourished patient result in the drop of phosphate, magnesium, and potassium; and can cause multiple intracellular complications.

is he not listening? it is sad to think resident doctor #4 could imagine my food could return on its own, or without intentional purging, but one must understand how he is preoccupied with mathematics. we both love the calculations and threat of a danger zone. disregarding all i have said about beginning to eat, he states the shortest amount of time possible for my body to safely accept calories without cellular disruptions is ten days. since he believes i am malnourished, "beginning to eat" could be initiated with 200-400 calories in a monitored inpatient hospital program, with an additional 200 added on alternate dates. in our outpatient situation, the slowest he would prescribe is a gain of 200 calories per week.

[i am struggling... trying desperately not to write as if.]

- nothing has changed regarding my opinion
- 95% not interested in eating disorder treatment
- 4% amused at the fury it still causes
- perhaps 1% nervous for this worthless life

consider: who wrote the utopian textbook resident doctor #4 reads from and how did that author successfully market that useless manual to physicians with twelve years of education?

someday the above text will not sit well. i will be able to read its urgency and either be angry or embarrassed of the flippant tone thrown around throughout this entry.

consider: the [lifebox] as magnificent and resilient machine.
consider: hypophosphatemia and refeeding syndrome.

consider: metabolism? dietary changes? exercise?
consider: amphetamines? ephedrine hcl stacking? sleepers? water fasting?

consider: refeeding = retain water, then weight and bmi scale will crash.
note: this may work out for both of us for at least a month.
consider: what about the giving it back to the world purging issue?

attitude is clear, but the current state of anorexia has many positive and negative spikes. the detrimental opinion may help the body get worse though visually opting for health... or it may not. the mindset will probably be just as strong on my last day on earth, so i don't know, but will at least think about it.

what i am going through currently feels like an addictive situation. an honest attempt to change my eating behavior will never be made until the blackest day is experienced and my finger, without any prodding, dials the frightened phone. there needs to be a concrete reason to start. hearing i am killing myself, from people who enjoy chip and sofa time, means what exactly, to someone who is healthy enough to whip their out-of-shape asses at all sports?

before leaving rd#4's office, i requested and received a prescription for a benzodiazepine to either counter anxiety or eliminate those sudden intense instances of depression. he should have given me a dose to take before entering the nearby costco warehouse where the prescription was filled. one needs not have a costco membership card to use the pharmacy, and $20 was saved, but i would rather not return to their big box store. (agoraphobia/large open spaces)

consider: compare a costco warehouse experience to a farm?
consider: is the costco shopping experience constantly congested?
consider: is a membership card needed to use their optical center?
consider: utilize benzos to zone out from starvation-related discomfort.
translation: use those pills to sleep through mealtimes.

ever prepared for gargantuan-sized shopping carts and triangular thighs in a big box land where cream cheese danishes come in 36-count packages, i had not planned on tormenting a pharmacist. apparently a phone number is required by costco to fill a prescription for controlled substances, but since there is no actual law on the books requiring california residents to have a phone, shucks, i had no number to recite. a pharmacy technician acted as though an unlisted number was being protected, but when i lied about having no form of phone service, the clerks were completely dumbfounded. no cell phone number? no. no land line? no. we all have our forms of fun but the best is being right, not giving in, and simultaneously making people look incompetent. privacy- superfluous information is none of their business. these examples of obstinance i occasionally detail define the rigidity of anxiety disorder.

after the prescription was filled i flew united airlines to san francisco, used the appropriately named hotel rex to do nothing but comb my hair, lingered at a required in-store appearance, and then (even though bogged down with two suitcases filled with free hair product) flew to new york.

consider: i wonder if anxiety is sought after in an attempt to focus on something other than depression, much in the same temporary way the belt was once used.

might there be a direct relationship between self injurious behavior and the combination of pharmaceuticals i ingested this morning?

a few years back, when taking two or three daily eca stacks, i also was routinely whipping my legs with a leather belt. i understand that 99.9999% of the collective population will never be open to even trying to understand the reasoning behind this, but it was a warped effort to find a physical pain greater than the discomfort of depression. perhaps it was also to seek a personal escape from hell without copping out of responsibility and taking my own life. essentially, the experience of finding a physical pain was a displacement and dissociation. i tried to transverse between definitions of pain and hurt 'differently' to feel better-- essentially, one pain would cancel out the other. the physical pain was at least real, and this realness countered the mental discomfort which couldn't be soothed.

until that violent leather became spiritual, self flagellation had worked very well to dissociate and help replace all doom. dark plum colored bruises would acquire hard lumps within minutes but the rush of endorphins, that reawakening prickly sensation experienced immediately after a blow, actually became enjoyable. suddenly unable to hold myself up, and finally having something real to think about, the tremendous weight of depression could only fall out of the way.

the joke, when i was a little kid with tears and a scraped knee, was for my father to stomp on my foot. consider: "ha ha, you aren't thinking about your scraped knee anymore, are you?" it may have been simultaneously funny and sick, but it certainly was never thought to be a precursor to a pathological disorder. early on i learned to distract and display one pain for another. at a later age, i found myself pinching myself on the arm whenever in an uncomfortable dentist's chair (to counter the real pain) and also when in nervous situations (pinching away the mental discomfort).

i hate to think how out of control life was that something as furious as a self inflicted beating with a belt could not only happen, but become addicting.

...i lose a lot of blog readers for a few weeks when i write about its pleasant properties, but don't they understand this pathology has a very concrete chemical explanation?

for awhile the bad habit didn't even rank as an issue-- it was lovely and secret. one day this trick didn't work for me, and i knew the experience of the leather belt had either turned into legend, or would linger forever if it continued one additional time. unlike food abuse and disordered eating, quitting was much easier when directed toward actions or ingredients nonessential to life.

for the last few hours i have been coming down from a speedy thursday. as the depression slowly creeps back into territory, i find myself obsessing on where to find the familiar distraction from mental anguish. never craving, and rarely even deflecting thoughts toward the old leather habit, might this desire be due to bronkaid tablets? perhaps these feelings were related to the makeshift ephedrine stack i had taken earlier in the day?

for a healthy change of scenery without any temptation, my head rested on the floor tonight. grit is difficult when i am not supposed to distract myself. i investigated the carpet fibers and tried to stare down time. i just waited for something to happen. paws the cat sat near and supervised until the itch of the camel wool rug on cheek became boring. it didn't help.

i stood up and blinked back the blackout until grasping at a jacket hung in the hallway. found myself alone and sad in the silent car. i parked, reclined and tapped the door panel in the dark. my fingertip caressed the plastic orange peel texture and i focused on nothing for a very long time. suddenly i realized that very belt had been secured right there behind me in the trunk of the car. it had been specifically placed there, out of sight, out of mind, out of reach-- but a call from resident doctor #4 interrupted the panic and... and i think he hates me or may really regret taking on our project of watching emotions. feeling nothing but confirming the need to fall from a bridge, i went inside, got chuck's shoulder wet, and didn't hug back.

now i don't know how to manage this insistence aside from waiting it out. the last thing i should do is sit here and dwell but my established preoccupations are a bit dangerous.

stay busy.
no reason for The Doom.
recent events prove everything is good!
EVERYTHING!

[except nutrition]
[and excess]
[and getting hit with the ugly stick again]
[and glycolic chemical peel scabbing]
[and my hair is slowly shedding]
[which killed the newest vacuum cleaner]
[translation: i need to spend more money]

ignore the depression!
change the focus:

after posting a negative review to travelocity, which they have chosen not to publish, a coupon for $100 off of my next purchase arrived in the mail. yay! that was surprising seeing as travelocity was only the 'travel agent' and the problems were the fault of the resort. i also detailed the unsavory experience to the company in question (not expecting compensation, just informing) and their customer service representative has credited my account with enough reward points to redeem two free nights at a five star property. it wouldn't mean anything if i was sedentary, but these points completely reimburse the recent experience and can even translate to five or six nights should i opt to book a moderate hotel.

[The Doom]

my car needs to have the oil changed before the engine seizes up. it's been a long time between services. fearing a girly image, but worried about teenage boy syndrome just the same, i would change the oil myself if the homeowners association allowed it. they now apply a $500 fine to any resident who visibly performs car maintenance on the property-- which is ridiculously inconvenient. the car needs to be waxed, too.

[The Doom]

perfect: new green japanese eyeglasses.
perfect: new tiny and brilliant blue eyeglasses.
perfect: lopping nine inches off of my hair.

[The Doom]

note: should not have swallowed [illicit combination of pills].
fact: exercise in a bottle.
consider: is this body (lifebox!) too thin to handle it?

[The Doom]

there is a dinnerless dinner with my rep tonight. the last time i saw that toothy arrogant scab, he had the audacity to inform me to never wear the same pair of shoes in his presence more than once. the recent contract signed through him makes this possible.

up until july and even though giving in enough to own several, i was a two pair of shoe type of person. one pair wears most everywhere, which reserved a second for sports. the third and fourth options were stored in a suitcase to be paired with impressions. now october has arrived and i own over 100 pairs of shoes and none of them are as great as my standard go everywhere sandals. yeah, he can die.

... but i cleaned the bathroom floor yesterday.

reluctantly accepting the fact i will succumb to allergic reaction, i may have to find a portion of a pill to ward off today.

a) no medicine: feel depressed in mind, yet physically content.

b) take one quarter of a (long expired) benzodiazepine or ssri: feel content in mind, yet congested and physically on fire with a possibility of scratching to the point of accidentally drawing blood.

c) swallow a common amphetamine or eca stack: for some reason, this option always gives me brain shivers and provokes me to clean the bathroom floor. i also throw away many tangible household goods. on the positive side, it will make me busy enough to forget about sadness, replacing ordinary obsessive worries with concerns of heart palpitations.

i don't go for this depression anymore.
time should be invested in something else.

snoopy sheets pulled over a face
count the abdomen pulse
tap a fingertip for comfort
since every part of nothing is wrong

i said: what are you here for?
the inevitable option said: road trip.
everyone else said: we love you.

starvation owned yesterday until that suicidal problem stopped by.

aside from the fact she does not dive, and that i have already visited belize twice this year, why not guide motherfigure through central america? why not explore the art of hammock heaven or store boredom by snorkeling amid the rays in the caribbean sea? the sharks protecting the blue hole are perpetually entertaining so an instant return to central america will not involve a feat of endurance. after an uncomfortable start (seedy introduction of belize city, water taxi ride from hell), wish willy's, syd's, and caye caulker's beachless turquoise waters (which offer negligible opportunities to do anything other than go slow) probably will not cut it.

let's just consider for a moment that i will not be the person paying for our group's vacation. if that is the case- who cares? motherfigure can travel and pay for whatever, whenever, and so can invalid friend. having just returned from their chosen destinations, and knowing i will be responsible for the cost of this last minute trip, shouldn't motherfigure have extended herself slightly out of thoughtless mode? would it have been too much to ask to for her to suggest somewhere different?

certainly this luxurious allowance to travel is not ignored. though i balk and jokingly moan about a third belizean trip, the only part which rattles is motherfigure's radical about face. after merely seeing a few colorful photographs over the years, suddenly what was shady central america is now 'safe.' rather than being a thrilled teacher, i find it off-putting to constantly question and then unravel the disposition of my family. the only benefit of their remission is the reminder to challenge all basic philosophy and fundamental knowledge reinforced by them when i was a child.

starvation-related backache
in particular, the jutting and bruised shelf at the lower back
pain pain pai-- ah ah ah, none of that!
what a wonderful feeling.
this sensation is success.
life is extremely clean today.
mm-hmm... feel better.

Q: since when does ups deliver packages after 9:00pm?
A: since always.

[if the shutters are locked, know enough to retract the knock, eh?]

private pier and cerulean caribbean waters--caye caulker, belize

THE GOOD:
- motherfigure is scheduled for jury duty this week.
- she will not vacation at my home during the month of october.
- no need to scurry about in a frenzy trying to balance visible extremes.
- unnecessary to pay for those temporary renovations, too.

THE BAD:
- invalid friend has the first week of november off from work.
- motherfigure has the first week of november off from work.
- the predictability of where this post is going.


some people leave footprints-- cancun, mexico

WORSE THAN BAD:
motherfigure says: "we should take a trip to see cancun and belize!"

i have yet to say: "what in the mother-mmpfing hell?! i traveled to cancun and belize two weeks ago and neither of you wanted to come with me!"

invalid friend says: "actually, she would be a great distraction from work."

ferris wheel- fairplex, los angeles county fair

it took chuck more time to deal with the 'will call' window where he picked up his 'early entrance ticket' to the los angeles county fair than it took for me to con my way through the gate.

chuck informed the women working at ticket window #1 who he was, what company he represented, and that aside from comped parking passes, he didn't have physical evidence stating he was to be allowed a free fair entry. chuck also mentioned he was working at a commercial exhibit and needed to be let in immediately. one woman pointed to the line in front of window #2. after waiting for a few minutes in that area, a clerk at window #2 listened to chuck's story and then sent him over to queue in the will call line. a grey man running the will call station spent forever searching through a shoebox filing system of index cards and scraps for a corporate envelope which held credential admission tickets. when the older man finally found the vendor related vouchers, chuck was allowed access into the fairgrounds.

meanwhile, i had ignored all of the various windows and walked directly to the ticket ripper at one of the entrance gates. when asked for my ticket or badge, i held up a small bag and said, "no, i just have to deliver this stuff to a vendor in exhibition hall number six."

"yeah, go right through," said the ticket ripper. had anyone thought to check the contents, it surely would have looked to be a scam, as the bag only contained a hat and a few liters of bottled water.

"how do you know the numbers of the exhibition halls," asked chuck, when he found out what i had said. "have you been here for a classic car show or something?"

a county or state fair obviously houses exhibition halls or similarly named areas, and 'number six' sounded as good as anything. here it sounded as though chuck considered the key to admittance was found in the words spoken rather than in the presentation. chuck, clearly work-ready in a fresh shirt and shiny shoes, asked people for direction and was subsequently sent through the maze. i do not have the patience for that game. i went straight to the goal, informed the ticket ripper as to what i was doing (rather than asking for permission) and that confidence didn't allow for any questioning. had i been hesitant or insecure, the gatekeeper surely would have noticed the camera in hand and how i was dressed for the fair rather than work.

having saved the entrance fee, it bought chuck a funnel cake dusted with powdered sugar and also a decent looking pair of cheap sunglasses- he either loses or destroys sunglasses twice a year. [...and certainly a snack with as many calories as a funnel cake racks up, it should have uncharted orgasmic or sinful qualities by default, shouldn't it? alas, this novelty was easily rejected. also, we hadn't enough time before chuck started work to explore the fairgrounds and take a photo of the infamous macaroni and cheese on a stick.] people were giving my body a lot of double takes and so after we located the exhibition hall where chuck would be hustling customers, it was decided i would ditch fairplex and drive all of the way back to his house in the west valley.


funnel cake kiosk- fairplex, los angeles county fair

the underweight thing, rather, people's gesturing towards it last night, did not summon any exhilarated attitude. in the past (when i was very sick the first few times around with anorexia) other people and their opinions, whether they were looks of shock or spoken excitement, only furthered weight loss. had i received a look of horror or pity, then obviously i was right on track with the illness and it felt great to see outwardly that i was doing so well at the quest. had someone commented with admiration that i was too thin, my day was ruined because that awe couldn't possibly mean that i was disgustingly thin. it meant there was still an avenue of attractiveness, and the photos i used as inspiration certainly did not show beauty. attractiveness and beauty come with health and in my dictionary "healthy" is an extremely fat word. essentially, both positive and negative opinions help me to become even more involved with eating disordered behavior. someone acting unaffected? that just dares me to excite.

so there i was trying to half-step my way out of the crowded los angeles county fair, being stared at by lumpy people as their open palms balanced paper plates of fried foods, and none of this obese truth sparked contempt. i didn't feel typical- the arrogant anorexic who knows but feigns chronic lack of understanding as to why others have yet to convince themselves the air is flavored and makes a nice dinner.

typically the thoughts enrage with issues of how dare people be comfortable in public, but people were happy, and i was amused by it all. "let them be happy," i thought. "i don't have to be here."

a man walking nearby held up his thumb and forefinger in the form of a small "c" and said, "your arm is like only *this* big."

at first i tried to ignore his "thin comment" but twisted his words in my head and helped them morph into a "fat insult." what he said was insulting because the "c" shown, in reality, should have been a closed hand to form an "o." his fingers would have easily overlapped around my upper arm. actually, his closed hand would have left the tip of his thumb to jut out, giving him the additional choice of illustrating a lowercase "b" rather than a "c."

bastard him or bastard anorexia? it seems this part of illness can use anything, even the thin comments (which once would have been exhilarating) as a reason to feel bad.

feeling shunned and noticeably odd (and now with embarrassing "fat arms"), i made my way back through the enormous parking lot to safety of the car and spent the evening alone.

is it acceptable to say that i am too uncomfortable to walk around the los angeles county fairgrounds by myself this afternoon? invalid friend's employer has a sales booth set up somewhere inside the fairplex complex, has given chuck weekend parking/entrance passes, but only requested that he appear at their makeshift store for a few hours this evening. chuck has no driver's license-- meaning that today i am the sassy taxi driver.

no, scratch that. it's a clock watching weekend and there were sneaky traces of corn residue in last night's food (allergic) which are allowing for a bad case of wincing witch this morning.

with traffic, it would be outrageous to drive two hours out to the pomona location just to drop him off, return home, and then retrace the drive to collect him at midnight.

what's a better option? stay there? sit in the car with two bags of books? worry about locating a restroom when it might not be quite that dark outside? photograph open-mouthed monsters with their australian potatoes and battered, then deep fried macaroni and cheese on a stick?

you know, one of these days i might just pry open my eyes, see that southern california is as foreign as everywhere travelled, and begin to wander around freely in its wonderment. maybe i have been missing out, but doubt a fair food induction next to the jerky and pickle shack is in order.

my complementary coach service back to his house will start off with hearing the glorified woe of how he sold nothing at the fair, but everyone else did, AND he has to go to work the next morning.

plan: "you've had such a long day. i stopped for snacks."
plan: hand over extra chewy convenience store junk food.
don't say: "jolly rancher, do you know what's fun? bite down really hard."

thinking he should suck it up, having made the choice to work a regular job for a living, i will hum my ears all of the way closed, and make eye contact while rudely turning up the stereo. what invalid friend doesn't know is that when hell freezes over and the lottery dream comes true, it will not relate to his work schedule as long as i manage his bills.

MINI cooper s in black

stocks had better kick it in the ass this week. september saw me spending far too much money. a trip to central america, scuba diving the belize barrier reef, twenty one nights spent in hotels, twenty one pairs of shoes purchased, seven pairs of premium denim, three leather travel totes, a spontaneous weekend in london, a day trip to san francisco, one pair of transitions sunglasses, two pairs of super hi-index eyeglasses, and a new compact digital camera with underwater housing kit plus other accessories.

good lord... even red leather furniture!

(in an effort to pay for all of this crap) i also bought another MINI cooper s from a dealership on the east coast and had it shipped to los angeles. since the "s" version remains a sought after model in california (and like real estate, easy to flip) i would be shocked if this MINI doesn't sell for $8000 over msrp within the month.

file under seemed like a tolerable idea at the time: signing invalid friend up for a frequent flyer mileage related dial-up internet service promotion.

after trading 250,000 minutes of life for a measly 10,000 worldperks miles, they have posted this morning and chuck can now cancel this ménage à trois involving northwest airlines and the earthlink isp. too late- i've trained myself to go into a trance upon logging on to his computer.