flagrant disregard

if the correct choice is to reach out and connect with another person, why does the action always leave me feeling as though i am carrying my head around in a bucket?

you need to purchase a new car.
you may not live long enough to see a loan paid in full.
which vehicle do you choose?

it is possible to cheat DEATH.
the bank? not so much.

neither referring to an automobile transaction nor a bank loan, as always, my thoughts consider the potential for the abdication of character.

"a body," said resident doctor #4, "is a vehicle--"

"the transportation to nowhere is a necessary distraction," i said, speaking in his own language about the anorexic monster in the room. there was an immediate concern he may have reflected back on a photograph once shared of a land rover parked in the shadow of the todra gorge instead of starvation, but i continued, "nothing and its vastness is incredible in its inevitable letdown as it is the expedition which is fulfilling."

could an expression of sequel, this continuance of eating disorder, be misinterpreted as a metaphor for life? did he catch that, how breaking a set number on the scale is only exhilarating until the next swallow of water? perhaps resident doctor #4 identified my love of subtraction in the road poetry, but by then i was off tying the grandness of nothing to caravaning on camels out in the great sahara.



in wanting to exchange my current car, resident doctor #4 thinks this means i am mentally gearing up to 'trade in' anorexia and become visible. nice idea. [many similarities between the way i treat body and car (fuel, maintainence, complexity of projected image) deleted] an automobile transaction has been avoided long enough to transform a greedy, excessive WANT to a need. i will consider the need but not a WANT as long as i can wrestle with the take- one of these days. as of yet, nothing attracts enough to endure the hassle of a car salesman and the process of purchase.

if conversations concerning vehicles are going to be direct representations of body, perhaps when my voice returns, i will dwell on the fuel economy (diet, efficiency, style) a new car can offer and start referring to my american monstrosity as a gas hog (obese, ineffective, slack... ugly).

even though the volume has been turned down, anxiety from fighting yesterday still pounds. neither can i relax nor sit down for long, and scratch the arrogant part of what was written last night. 'no part of me will suffer...tonight'- yeah, nice try. it may be worth a week of flutter but realistically this is only a two day dent.

after the crying stopped last night, we still appeared wrecked, but ventured out to best buy before continuing on to the grocery store. the fact that imperative fungi is suddenly on sale nationwide is not a plus, rather, it makes me feel as though i'm being followed around by a camera. our favorite market, where the approval involves pricing and spirit instead of trend or rank, has apparently just announced its closing. soon after hearing the rumor, chuck and i noticed the broken down employees. we had recently begun to enjoy the extra miles needed to find the anonymity felt there.

it had been a bad week filled with stress and fog, and now to top it off, chuck has been screaming at me for the last four hours. a clearer understanding of why a house of lunacy remains does not exactly work to instantly numb the sadness.

oh, old news.
our frustrations have a seasonal repetition.

that inappropriate tone of his angry voice- how i imagine the walls in the room incrementally expand, paralleled to the outburst, before finding their way back into place. with the fear of the noise and disruption, i am on my third saturated paper towel, but no part of me will suffer a dent tonight.

perhaps resident doctor #4 would liken my image of the 'stretching walls' to chuck's desire for autonomy, which is the focus of this fight, and then represent proper realignment of the room with how i insist on keeping chuck in place. had i just dissociated from the situation with cartoon images of near household destruction- only to have the daydream concisely explain our conflict?

a perfect definition always seems to lie in the distraction.

on the bookshelf:
- Within A Triangle Of Forces
- The Bloody Chamber
- Biology Of Memory
- Human Starvation
- Diatonic Functionality

consider: soaring gas prices. if i continue using the borrowed audi s4, which is providing only 10 miles per gallon, it may soon be cheaper to catch a daily flight between santa barbara and los angeles rather than to drive.

i had a lot to write out except suddenly saw the need for this detour. the lack of blogging, or the fact-based fragmented entries left online, have more to do with eating disorder and starvation than apathy- this needed to be admitted to in print. i'm too bored to type it all out... it's too exhausting. i'm too depressed to find the drive needed for this which is superfluous. none of my life is boring but i should be allowed to admit to the exhaustion.

a portion of the above, when read back after proofreading, was spelled out with a hesitant cadence of illness. longer words (blogging, fragmented, apathy) were accidentally shortened to become completely different words (blog, fragrant, apple). the issue is not in typing, rather, the connection was seemingly lost between brain and fingers.

omitting words and not seeing their space, or glazing over a typo is common when having one's own writing memorized, but-- this will need to end. my entire identity revolves around the brain and the accelerated academic pathways it took, or, much to everyone's dismay, eating disorder. the occasional cognitive impairment, and even though for the most part only blog readers stumble upon it, is embarrassing. right now it seems obvious there will be an unnoticed example of this phenomenon in this very post.

this 'wonky omission' or 'substitution' relative to cognition frequently happens following unsettled food or after time spent on depleting long-haul airline flights. although starvation enthusiastically tries to fit into the definition, this disturbance specifically points to dehydration. as of this week, i am not restricting liquids, yet dehydration and its effects are evident in print.

electrical signals in the brain suddenly vary in transport- but where do they go? i detailed how i thought to initially write the words 'blogging' and 'fragmented' but if 'blog' and 'fragrant' were the result, where is the other half of the direction? where did the other portion of original purpose go? will these stunted word substitutions which are happening in written language eventually carry over to speech? could "this morning i drove to the ucla medical center" become 'this morning i drive to university medicine?' what if i only notice after that spoken stutter is hanging in the air? the association among vomiting, abnormal electrical communication between neurons, and seizures is obvious without record.

it has been previously detailed how the eating disorder serves my purpose and therefore its oddness allows for no complaint:

so what if size zero jeans are too short and in rolling them up (to make them more acceptable than not) the whole picture i present still looks strange? i'd like a sign: yes, my pants are cuffed. sorry if it bothers some people enough for them to look twice. find me a size less than zero with a 36 inch inseam and i will happily appease all. what am i supposed to do? naked ankles are better than trying to wear five sizes up or spending many afternoons sewing.

i willingly follow along and refuse to dispute any loss:

thinning hair?
eh.

metabolic disturbances?
eh. neither of these problems are truly permanent.

cardiac arrhythmias?
eh.

the loss of attraction?
at the current time, or perhaps i am just trained to say, i would rather not physically infatuate. in westwood yesterday morning, a man on the sidewalk was walking in the other direction. after passing by, he stopped and turned around before yelling after me that i was beautiful. the man was neither crass nor rude, but my god, the fear it provoked! [first thought: don't be so proud to acknowledge this complement when it may have been directed to someone else nearby. second thought: RUN! third thought: regardless of what happened in the past, this person is not going to physically disable and then steal me.] later, i chalked up those initial reactions to his booming approach.

the loss of profession?
a former fashionable employment helped to refine arrogance and financial drive, rather than worthy ambition. i should neither be entitled to enormous sums of money nor luxurious perks just because my mother slept with my father instead of yours. i put forth no effort into genetics. it is a great relief to not have to glow all of the time.

in order to thrive, anorexia has to convince me to decline what the world has to offer and that i do not deserve whatever remains. this perspective and frustration is necessary to play the game to the goal- so take everything! take my life! take balance! take looks! take health! take serenity! so what? restrict my communications! destroy my organs! eat my brain! wait... no wait. eating disorder will not be taking cognition. i lectured my own theories at a prestigious university this spring, am focused on numerous worldwide projects, and am signed on to courses from northrop grumman space technologies. confidence combined with ambition are finally tying my life together and the implications of substandard cognition in these arenas are frightening. a wonky form of omission cannot continue.

so, now what happens?
[*bites nails*]

the eating disorder rules are not often contradicted.
[*winces*]

prepare for punishment?
well, how does that work if it is predetermined i will enjoy the penalty?

:
:

i drove to the grocery store- this voided the typical argument of how the exercise of walking would cancel out all energy from food purchased. there was no issue. i needed calories more than confliction and also killed off an entirely different spectrum of fear by selecting a grocery store never previously visited.

upon entering through the sliding front doors, my eyes began to water from the sharp scent of citrus fruits stacked in the produce section. listen to the body. i selected one portion of the offending item, dropped, and then knotted it into a plastic bag. what am i here for? what am i supposed to buy? i hadn't obsessively constructed a shopping list because there seemed to be no need for the preoccupation. i can't really have anything sold in this store but simultaneously am entitled to all of it. i don't even know in which direction to proceed.

my body answered with the suggestion of fresh mushrooms but i was somewhat wandering around with the enemy. mushrooms!? am i low on potassium? dear anorexia, am i to eat mushrooms raw or simply turn away from them? the earthy scent of portobello tops wafted from their space on the shelf. anorexia planted repulsive thoughts of fungi but agreed and they were set in the handcart next to a portion of bound spinach. the body then indicated a need for beef liver but, oh, who can fathom eating that? why even endure the cooking performance? those replenishing benefits inspired by liver will need to come from another source at a later time.

mushrooms, greens, a piece of fruit, the bloody threat of a variety meat- the last month must have been empty as these cravings nutritionally compute. i don't hate myself for purchasing food today or even in expressing a need. what is different is that a revulsion lies specifically toward the physical requirement.

in flight avod system map- leaving west africa

monday's bad attitude: this damn 'watching emotions' project with resident doctor #4 is doing nothing but padding a vacation savings account by keeping my passport locked in the safe. i insist on going- to not ignore his availability. sixty five cents in the parking meter this morning, a blister on my foot from walking too far, and then i topped out on the eighth word. what was the point?

july first- i'm outta here. somewhere, out there.

"slow computers purchased back in 1998 are no longer a welcomed topic, mother," i had written in an e-mail. it may have taken her two weeks, but motherfigure has finally replied- from her new computer.

this follows the topic from yesterday of how a house staff felt the need to inform me they had finished their job. damn humans and their uncontrolled need for connection! i see it all as useless information. it's noise- stop talking.

in reference to my mother and her new computer, me thinks: mm-hmm, yeah, what about it? why are you telling me? this should have been tended to at an earlier date. four years ago when i called out for your upgrade i was ignored, so why are you looking for the nod at this point in time? i will not grant you one. this purchase is not a 'yay' and instead is merely 'how it should be.' how many months will i endure conversation relating "how great the computer is?" mother, this is not 'great.' this is only par.

there should be a limit as to how many words one is allowed to use in their lifetime.

the cards say: "this isn't an up."

today i made the initial appearance at my newest property and personnel management responsibility-- this was the expensive arrangement negotiated last week. what is of note? there are two people who function as a house staff, neither of them appreciate my substitute authority, and there is an unwanted duck living in the swimming pool. just as the owners have moved out, he has taken the opportunity to move in.

my current definition of 'gone to hell' only requires one issue of any size-- no scent of a second effort is required. i cannot fathom sealing responsibility in ink and then falling short of perfection. it is not going to happen. nothing has ever gone wrong on any property since initiating this business, so it is as ludicrous as it is true to say that 'grumbling from the house staff' and 'one uninvited duck' helps to rank this specific estate to the level of 'ordeal.'

i was the typical me-- terse. it was announced the duck would be removed today and also, that the stench from the kennel, which smelled like dog, would not be tolerated. the two employees instead were suddenly spun about into a land of confusion after being told to perform the impossible. they did not seem to understand that a dog kennel does not automatically get a pass to smell like a dog kennel... and the unwanted duck?! i sensed the staff thought of me as dictatorial, or perhaps i was asking them to perform magic, but they have never met me before today. neither of them are aware that i would never ask someone to do a job that i refused to do.



how hard is it to either rid the duck independently or to call for the help of animal control? these two house staff employees seemed completely stuck with how to proceed. of course i would have no problem getting into the pool or running around the yard if it helped to eliminate the duck. the difference is that i grew up in the forest and am not easily frightened by wild animals. that may have been it-- their fear. my other suggestion ("the kennel will not stink") catalyzed another confused paralysis. when i was young, my father made it clear that if he ever found our kennel smelling like the dog, he would use our dog for archery practice. my father was serious and our dog has only recently died due to a case of old age-- so offensive odor is manageable. it is not unrealistic to request it be tended to when that scent is proven unnecessary.

later in the day, i received a phone call informing me that the duck no longer remained. [...but then something strange happened where i was hit with an instance of sudden disdain! what are these people doing calling me? why are they seeking out my congratulations for fixing that which was never supposed to have occurred? am i really supposed to thank them? i will not. these two are adults-- why are they calling to have the end of the situation approved? i understand their relief, exhilaration, and (scoff) need to share but... we are neither friends nor are supposed to be. i can lock emotion in a can-- why can't they?] all expression was concealed while on the phone. i capped my speech by refusing the words great or thanks-- acting as though the interruption was seeking something from me. "okay. so, the duck is gone. what is the problem you are having now? what was it that you needed?"

[thunk]
[thunk]

oh, don't kill me!
those isolating ice palace walls just slam down automatically.

so what if people know about me or how i feel? so what if they call and find out i am driving, shopping, working, or am engaged in life? so what if they can hear from the background noise on the phone that i have a cat? i don't know. once upon a time, this level of privacy meant everything. if people know my current state of emotion it could easily be manipulated. cold. calculated. constantly. i do not have the option of running home to mother if anything went sour. the secrecy gets out of hand-- today i even showed up to that property in a borrowed audi s4 cabriolet. perhaps with repetitive awareness, i won't have to conceal so much anymore.

another answer is revealed above: attachment. the need to share.

now, having had time to detail the conversation, i think i may return the phone call in an effort of... apology? [not so much.] practiced humanity? [perhaps.] this call which appeared to be mechanical and curt [instead of what it was, 'a habitual way of dealing with social anxieties'] may be rectified with the second connection. although not the place they'd first think of, revealing something about having been in a bad spot when initially answering the call should work to reset the relationship.

a missing box of shoes? oh, so what about the value or the contents? these days it's just the situation which bothers me- financials will eventually fall into place. one thing remains the same and that is how i don't know what to 'do' without a nervous perspective. i still feel as though a great deal of work has been left undone and i am not fully performing without the anxiety. there is an effort in the obsessions. shrugging ordeals off or excusing all aspects of value until a scene works itself out also feels arrogant. there is only one environment in which i want to comfortably remain careless.

people need to execute the very least of what is expected of them or they don't belong around me. is this where i learn to give people a break? why? why can't a courier leave a package at the correct house? if a substitute clerk is going to take it upon herself to check in library books, she could at least confirm the work. why was it my job to monitor these "tools?" no aforementioned instances of inferior customer service should be considered gripes or even rants. the least level of service available- these are minimum expectations.

unwavering personality continues: dontcha love how people either buck up to standards or form their own pile of filth? no need to be crass, but why should i pleasantly refer to that which decides to be garbage?

[1,000,000 incredible things]

thou shalt never stop riding the bicycle!
proana campus, azusa pacific university

three for three:

1) waiting for a delivery. stalking the fedex courier. he pulls up and parks the white fedex box truck on the frontage road. wait patiently. no knock is heard. continue waiting. no package is left at the door. look out window. fedex courier is seen driving away. refresh online tracking web page. web page shows package has been successfully delivered-- apparently to the house next door. frumpy female neighbor has no need (and will never return) those three pairs of cole haan flats. damn him and damn her.

2) chuck returned clothing purchased on two different orders to the fashion square j.crew store in sherman oaks. the least expensive of the two returns credited back to my visa card immediately. the other transaction, which prices out to a literal fortune, is lost in space. inferior store computer systems are such a tired excuse.

3) the azusa pacific university library has informed me by mail that twelve textbooks which were returned last wednesday were due today and my account may now be subject to a fine. [hold on. the books are a week overdue, yet it isn't certain if a fine has been assessed? i love to take political correctness at face value.] additional textbooks were checked out last week, and the alarm sounded upon leaving the building. the counter worker apologized for the inconvenience and declared herself a substitute employee for the university spring break- she also admitted realizing she had neither checked out nor desensitized the books properly. it's obvious she didn't check IN any books correctly that afternoon, either, but i can't exactly avoid the telephone and prove the books are shelved without making the two hour drive out to no man's land.

[why azusa pacific university? am i enrolled in one of their course offerings? no. this particular library has an inexpensive and extremely liberal loan policy for academic borrowers and external users. though my identification reveals an address two hours away in santa barbara, azusa considers me a community borrower. whenever i cannot locate a particularly ancient book at the university of california, cal state, or in local private collections, the azusa pacific libraries seem to have it available.]

after the current project with resident doctor #4 ends in june, there will be options available to us sometime beginning later in the summer. aside from maintaining a private practice, he also works at some type of free or low cost community clinic once per week. resident doctor #4 has already informed "them" that he will refer any of his patients into the system (meaning those who may not fit the low income classification) and the facility will begin, at the very least, to charge small fees for all services.

it had been unclear if resident doctor #4 would remain in southern california, which was an unbearable thought, but yet it was decidedly more tolerable to remain ignorant rather than to discuss financials. this last monday, and without a set tone, he asked if i wanted to negotiate a future arrangement. wow! not even knowing resident doctor #4 was open to compromise, i invalidated the topic- refusing to instantly determine a suitable proposal.

how does one prepare to negotiate the cost of medical care? how does one research this? where does on begin? which suggestions could be deemed inappropriate? are we bargaining, bartering, or both? did he mean for us to discuss the money, the schedule, or our actions? can i act goofy for a minute and suggest washing his car? certainly he doesn't me a reduced fee would be offered in exchange for managing his office twice a week. i doubt creative alternatives are an option even though accelerated stitching is found in the ordinary. a progressive approach- inexpensive therapeutic resources inevitably linger between the here and the there.

consider: negotiating in reverse.
tristan says: "i don't know how to sit on this side of the table."
note: well, i don't. people usually pitch their ideas to me.

consider: how does one agree on pricing what basically amounts to prediction? the potential for throttled future a psychiatrist can help provide apparently goes for $600 an hour, and though those benefits come with evidence, why be dangerous and perhaps blow the wad simply by betting on faith? how can i confirm that this fortune spent will be worth it?

trust offers no protection. up until i fully provided for my own safety net, trust was a liability- now the definition has been interwoven to include confidence. do, and then wait- if i initiate the process, it will flourish. still, $600 an hour is a mighty expensive tuition for an education which will never result in honorary distinction. after paying $600 an hour and juggling the work, i should be awarded another degree.

consider: how much would one pay to dramatically improve the quality of life? the daily assessment of psychiatry only details wasted coins in the parking meter and how resident doctor #4 should instead be paying for my time and mileage. on the other hand, in looking back over the year, the value of our appointments and project could easily equal everything i will ever obtain in the future.

it didn't seem to be an issue at the time, but posting the previous photograph of westwood village cancelled out all of my future street parking at ucla. the stalker problem is long gone but i remain shy- now doomed to either walk from an entirely different neighborhood or park in an anonymous concrete structure.

my blogging turns four years old on may 6th- wouldn't one think this topic of privacy in relationship to locality has been acknowledged and subsequently demolished? i mentioned the posted photo to resident doctor #4 and how, even though there are thousands of people in westwood village at any one time, lifebox felt too spotlight on to ever park near there again.

it's funny how there are virtually no nearby images located on this weblog. perhaps once i posted and then immediately retracted a local pictorial.


not even noteworthy bullet holes-
sarajevo, bosnia herzegovina

nothing here is ever pedestrian. why did i ever think to initially integrate into the common version of daily life?

it is impossible for this blog to try to catch up.

if a local retirement home called on easter morning and requested your services for dinner that evening, is it safe to say their managing director thinks:

1) you have no life and are available,
2) you function as their ubiquitous and felicitous last minute pushover,
3) you enjoy the metallic stench of an industrial food service kitchen,
4) all artful presentations in food or foil are automatic rather than agonized,
5) the black and white cookies you deliver weekly are actually homemade,
6) you are an honest-to-god sweetheart,
7) the smile on your face is genuine rather than decidedly obtained in advance and served through potent psychoactive drugs,
8) you don't mind the perpetual attempts at being kissed on the lips by octogenarian men,
9) answers #4, #5, #6, and #7,
10) answers #1 and #2.

a car came barreling down the road and missed smashing into the house by less than five feet- a tree interrupted the bigger catastrophe. sirens. voices. people flailing about. i didn't even notice. this means the prescription i am currently taking to facilitate sleep is very dangerous (if not the best pill ever). chuck took photographs, but apparently was too polite to approach the commotion. he said the police kept looking him over. the photos are worthless- taken from across the street.

[1000 places]

since the plan is to light the computer department at best buy on fire, do you mind if i also go and burn down the bank? the problem with all contemplated destruction is that the expression of rage will not teach anyone how to read.

let's consider my imaginary pet chimpanzee. never thought to be fit for out of the house employment, without hesitation, the pet would be surprisingly right in line to go work in customer service for $10 an hour. if an employee of a bank cannot read and comprehend, how was it they had the audacity to even apply for the job, let alone get hired? you, over there, it was rhetorical- slide that window back over to block yourself out. come monday morning, i'll not need to hear from he who thinks he's the optimate of the profession.

i recently questioned my bank's processing and hold times in reference to transferring sums of money between brokerage and banking accounts. when maniacally day trading, i find two second trade order executions to be sub-par, so an 'instant bank transfer' which now typically takes over 24 hours to process is unacceptable. an amount of money was specified in the e-mail (as there are different rules, etc, relevant to the processing with types/levels of accounts) and i recalled the accounts which were involved in the lagging transaction. there was no reply.

this morning, i noticed that someone at the bank took it upon themselves to manually transfer that specified sum of money from a completely unrelated money market account into my brokerage account. [?!] the surprise is that, although incorrectly, a customer service agent (tool) actually tried to perform. [a question and direction, but without any inflection- gosh, the excipient of sarcasm here was missing. maximum overdrive. god help us.] the money isn't gone- it's just in motion. without complaint, i could shuffle it back after it posts. the problem is that the tool transferred money 1) without permission; 2) into a brokerage account (which is technically a separate company); and 3) those funds in a brokerage account are available for immediate investment but not instant withdrawal. [what if i needed that money? x 1000 anxieties!]


a similar situation happened later in the day. a note was left on the door for the fedex courier. "please do not leave the package at the doorstep..." predictable psychology- the fedex representative saw the note, and assumed it was a request to leave the package rather than 'not' deliver (which is exactly what happened). i arrived home and found the note gone and the box sitting in front of the door. i may file a claim not to scam fedex, but instead, just to have idiocy listed in an employee's record. how fantastic that somewhere on file is a scan of a "signature release" refusing this unsigned delivery.

things change- i can't help but look backwards.

then: "no matter what, everything is my fault."
then: agonize x 1000
now: "get on the ball, people."

renters, on the other hand, never seem to have their heads up their asses- just maxed out credit. [*knock wood* - i just posted a vacancy notice.]

[1000 things]

the homeowners who were mentioned in the previous post own an extremely expensive property (and therefore must be doing something right) yet they try to act completely oblivious as to how the world works. people who have and don't ever like to pay for it- at least their character was familiar.

house sit has been used on these blogs as a generic term to encompass property and personnel management situations. why i continue to undercut the appearance of my role to the world should be clear- this particular small business endeavor is my least important project. as a liaison between a company renting out a portion of the property and the owner, my responsibility will be to evaluate risk and fret over any potential destruction. it also appears i am free to show up once a week to whip the pool guy and scream at the landscape service workers before cutting their paychecks. this is another effortless salary.

it was the same old story that never gets typed out- the homeowners were a bit shocked at the cost, having realized their original plan of hiring someone in exchange for free rent was thick at best. due to having several property situations currently in motion, after the psychological seeds were planted, i stated i was not open to financial negotiation. it never takes long after a clear presentation for very real fears to grow. the homeowners returned, having correctly related my unwavering personality to an impenetrable defense of their property, and agreed to pay too much. the difference today is balance- i neither resorted to intimidation nor submitted to the familiar wussification of tristan. the afterwards needed no coping skills.

it's sad to say, and i am glad it was acknowledged when sought as specifically something to do to beat insomnia, but the expense of my mba remains unjustified. [apt to change my mind... struggling not to delete that sentence, but it's true.] every decision i make is specific to law (rather than business economics), or connected to intense spectrums of psychology. the general population cannot articulate the levels of anxiety i have learned to reconcile. i have also lived in constant preparation for the ridiculous- the potential conflict and confrontation. on the other side, small considerations can be placed to open up a world of fear that people never even knew existed. at the current time, the harnessing of illness is proving to be a much better education. with those economics texts thankfully long gone, insomnia these days is countered with an occasional speck of trazodone and a course offered by northrop grumman. it's my future partner in crime who will need to present the law degree.

the best part of now is giving up the script and holding an honest confidence. bet it all- i loathe crushing, then watching inevitable disintegration, but do enjoy working with the people it motivates to become valuable.

if i ask the family who approached me with a house sitting position if they employ a live-in housekeeper, will i receive THE LOOK, or will they quickly come to understand that people do afford both?

easy translation: "pfft! you're not even token rich people. there is no reason to pull, thus hit my credit report with a hard inquiry. i am trustworthy by default since you cannot possibly own anything i would waste my time in stealing."

worst case scenario: question as QUESTION rather than statement.

today was supposed to have gone better than yesterday. actually it has, but spirit seems defeated.

fix it! change perspective! list 500 great things!

no, i want to mope without consequence, list lots of nastiness, and burn down the local best buy store.

- slides open heavy closet doors
- considers mentally ill wardrobe options
- pulls out neon green cable knit granny cardigan

note: neon green cancels out old maid.
consider: neon green secures old maid?

westwood village, near ucla medical center


"...over 73 and it said my resting heartbeat was 101- which is a clear indication that i'm obese. one hundred and one beats as normal? god! imagine if i had been nervous."

countered by: facts relating rapid heartbeat and low blood pressure to dehydration.


"...overworked hearts owned by corpulent sacks of lard. picture the crying hearts screaming to catch up with those who have to exert and lug themselves around. clearly, this reading is an indication or prediction of inflation."

countered by: an exasperated, "no it's not!"


translation: finding no words to scramble while fishing for complements.
consider: ordinarily 50 bpm, how to exceed 101 bpm?
consider: walking, talking- i cannot possibly be this sick.

a sporadic episode of self injury took place while in resident doctor #4's office this morning. consider: low point in illness or bizarre communication of trust?

fact: superhero cannot beat DEATH.
consider: superhero might choose not to provoke?

DEATH shares the bed with the superhero.

doorstep chicken soup, again- my fault for removing the initial donation. had the original can of campbell's chicken and rice stood on the mat since monday, i bet my home would not have turned into a sanctuary for war era foods.

call resident doctor #4?
apologize for being a shriveled vegetable on monday?
or not?

there is never a reason to defend 'how it is.'
[he says]
consider: the ultimate trump card?

poised for abuse, i neither need nor want to hold that much unfairness.

[background information: motherfigure uses a computer she purchased back in 1998 and still has the original mind numbing modem. if any slack can be cut, it actually relates to that modem rather than the computer. she tends to live in far off places where the quickest dial up access has been relatively unavailable.]

after receiving yet another e-mail this afternoon which detailed dreadful computer slowness, i almost thought to not finish reading it. why bother? the end of the note mentioned the possibility of obtaining satellite internet service, which is prohibitively expensive, even though much cheaper connections are available locally. it was there my bad mood cracked open even wider. satellite internet service for ineffective internet communications- brilliant. perhaps, someone should go and take away my parent's car keys? certainly these people should not be allowed to make left turns in traffic! let's tend to the tragedy in advance.

i replied that all future topics involving inferior computing were now over. this so-called problem of hers has gone on since the year 2000, and numerous options have been presented, so she must just need something to bitch about. our connectivity has definitely split, and if this is used to stay in contact with me, motherfigure now knows this chronically recycled topic will no longer work to keep me in her life.

what the hell is going on with my ego strength? "welcome to hell" is all i've been muttering lately while invalidating complacency. let me look at it as i believe other people see it: why am i being so mean to everyone?

this bad mood feels as though it will never end.

dear neighbor,

from the look of your shape, conclusions must be drawn and your palette in itself be considered a landscape. ignoring issues of how you tried to calm a depression-era conscience (this half-assed attempt at donation), it is confounding to find your obviously unwanted food at the base of my doorstep. if you refuse to eat a particular item, chances are slim that others would graciously welcome the discarded slop. i cannot fathom where you got it from, but welcome to 2006- canned soup no longer exists.

here's the deal: from now on, when you leave an unsolicited item of food on my property, i will return the favor by supplying you with a leaky plastic bag containing two extremely wet gallons of illness.

until then,
tristan

happy monday: watching emotions project with resident doctor #4 this morning.

there were difficulties in carrying the lifebox to ucla... the majority of it was the daylight issue (agoraphobia) which was 1000% worse than reasonable... spoke less than 20 words in total due to slicing chest pains and near constant arrhythmias... which even disrupted breathing but must.die.in.silence... still chronically refuse to reveal anything unless asked directly... who is, out of the blue, going to ask someone with a history of major depressive disorder if her silence might be physical... nobody... couldn't control the omnipresent starvation counting issue, either... 1-2-3 nicks in the blinds... 1-2-3 spots on the ledge... 1-2-3 seconds in time... 1-2-3 and all in multiples of 9 until REX interfered and complained of my active addition rather than adhering to the fundamentals of anorexic subtraction... never a 1-2-3 when there can be a 3-2-1... annoyed that the monster in the room gets no attention so.must.get.better.at.getting.worse... worried about remaining conscious while standing... but most importantly, concerned myself with where to find invisibility serum so i could get back to the safety of the car and drive home. one hour should not be three hours long.

resident doctor #4 is going to give me hell as i've still not made an appointment with an internist. now, better health insurance was squared away last friday (live, in person!) but with its waiting period, i believe the coverage doesn't begin until later in the summer.

this unavoidable medical appointment is apt to include a fortune of lab work-- and what's my problem? i can use the phone and get to an office visit. body weight- the attitude that a visual appearance of severity will never seem perfect enough (to warrant the attention) isn't countered very well. if numbers are inconsequential and measurements are meaningless, let me be immature and ask why they are requested so urgently?

what is a diplomatic way to tell a person i am not interested in their world views- especially when that person has undeveloped critical thinking skills, merely an undergraduate education, and no life experience outside of the role of casual crawler? if i've only hurt feelings with simple invalidation, imagine what will happen on the day a reason is revealed. it's rather amusing. people who opted to forego accomplishments direct their anger at me when they realize the punctuation next to their name means inferior.

[*shrugs*]

once friendless in depressed isolation, now friendless while productive- at least one familiar portion remains the same. no one would dream of asking my opinion on where to get the most satisfying meal in the city, and i am not offended at that truth, so why am i supposed to feign caring about world views held by people who have never left their office cubicle?

if you were to receive resumes from applicants intending to present themselves for a job interview, would you expect the paper query to be somewhat refined? i have posted enough notices by now and cannot be baffled by the pure idiocy of the general jobless population, but-- that's exactly it. weeding through job applications is no longer a task-- these people are now to unknowingly function as entertainment.

the only thing i despise more than a comedic cover letter, is when applicants list every variety of contact information. do people realize how asinine it looks to list a land line telephone number, cell phone number, work phone contact, fax, work fax, and e-mail address? (am i obnoxious to wonder aloud why 'the girlfriend's number' was omitted? what about 'mom's number back at The Farm?' what about leaving a phone number to have the applicant paged while he is out shopping?)

after years of introversion, i love to watch people writhe as they are forced to snuff out their own discomfort. a study in psychological behavior rather than cruelty, i would only instigate another person's terror if i could offer an immediate compensation-- in this case, a healthy paycheck.

skip ahead...

i returned one resume with a post-it note attached which requested the job seeker's crap be cut and reapplication be made immediately. how is it a few of these people don't know that embellishing a title of a previously held position does nothing but accentuate the lack of experience?

"while not having an ounce of documented talent, i am fluent in vietnamese and know i will benefit your project." dare the day that cover letter arrives-- i'd pass out from shock. the honesty, plus the self-assured confidence of "i know" (rather than tentative use of "i think") weighs more than adding the word 'engineer' to a lackey job title.

"the resume and job application," i had written on another submission before it was returned, "this is THE opportunity to tell me why you want this job." why assume a submitted resume means one WANTS the job? no way. i adopt the attitude that a competitive person who is driven is one perpetually LOOKING for advancement.

hopefully, these two applicants can read between the lines and see that the door is being held open rather than thinking it has already locked. obviously this second form of application/presentation could feel a bit embarrassing, and i empathize, but, it's just a test of how people will respond to my personality. habits of interaction and compatibility-- these are things i need to know. we will share international endeavors and essentially need to join together into a syndicate. if a job applicant is uncomplicated and requires a much lower level of fussiness, he or she can apply for responsibility offering a lower salary elsewhere.

consider: "mr. post-it note"
consider: "mr. tell-me-you-want-it"

it's no secret i really like both of these people.
they will either catch it immediately, or not, and if they don't...
that would be best.

white heaven starvation finally sparked last night and the subsequent grooves which showed themselves on my shins this morning were worth every wave- i'm almost scared of impending liquids.

instant gratification (though involving fat loss) = fat concept

must: remain vigilant.
must: not acknowledge excitement.
must: remain blind to simplicity.
must: work harder.

i mentioned this blog's web hit referrals which combine the word 'proana' or 'proanorexic' with terms relating to food. proana holiday fudge? proana favorite foods? proanorexic shopping lists? resident doctor #4 was a bit befuddled that people who want to adopt my lifestyle are missing the premier point which is to eliminate all food, socialization, and integration from DAILY LIFE. how do they not understand that simple restriction means to force oneself to go without rather than forage to maintain the body? frustrated at the thickness of those individuals-- there was empathy. consider the uneducated and delusional concept that one can place the sentiment of anorexia and favorite foods in the same thought-- it seemed we would both cry at the depth of the insult which stems from a person who uses the term proanorexic. now then, there is nothing wrong with being "pro-unfuckingbelievably-underweight and knowing food is needed to live." the difference in the use of language would be incredible.

imagine that, being so full of life and calories that one can: 1) consider venturing out to the grocery store, 2) not blackout on the way there, 3) buy what they 'want' from a shopping list rather than purchase a disgusting food to keep from eating it, 4) not restrict the money used to purchase all of their savory 'wants,' and 5) not understand that visiting a grocery store is a rule breaker unless having been seen at an emergency room during the last 72 hours.

vinales valley, cuba

do i have an excuse to return to cuba? no! though i cannot find any cds around the house which hold photographs of that trip (which also included visits to cancun and caye caulker, belize), it appears that most of the images remain on digital media cards. how interesting that i never saved photographs of peru or kauai, either. yesterday could have easily evolved from an awesome episode of introspection to a catastrophic loss.


cobblestone back streets of cusco, peru

how disappointing to find all of the pictures only to confirm their mediocrity. see, there was a reason that only a few were originally posted.