flagrant disregard

finger puppets, alpaca wool blankets, llama stuffed animals-
tourist kiosk, cuzco, peru

today is my father's birthday-- he hates everything. though my father always says to just pick up something for him during one of my many travels, there are no trinkets worldwide which can fit into his personality. i recently brought him an alpaca blanket back from peru, but there are too many complication with him, and so it was never sent.

my father is the type of person who has said he is merely happy to have people think of him-- that i could bake and sent off a batch of chocolate chip cookies and it would make his day. my father has diabetes. if i actually did fall for his suggestion and put together a variety tin filled with sweets, he would start off by verbally assaulting me for taunting his endurance. later, a statement would be made that i haven't the capacity to understand the weight of my potentially lethal actions. now, had i done research and baked cookies from a sugar-free cookbook, or sent those which were approved by the american diabetes association, my father would not receive them. that's right, he would refuse the gift and, in the process, pointedly embarrass me.

please don't make me call him.

what would we talk about?
cars?
i'm sick of talking about cars.

the weather? of course it's rainy there.
i didn't like rain or -20'F. i moved.
see how that works?

hold on, why am i pissed off?
no doubt the attitude comes from the obligation:
- obligated to say hello
- obligated to jump through his hoops and do it his way

could we talk about life?
- i am apt to sound as though my life is being flaunted
- my projects are lucrative, interesting, and even fun
- weekends in hawaii, costa rica...
[and then it gets worse...]
worse, as in living better than imagined.

after spending an entire year watching emotions, it makes sense that here on the afternoon of the project's end, i am experiencing quite an assortment of feelings. in the beginning, had i been able to comprehend the current graphic equalizer-like state of sensations, i would have never signed on the line.

"welcome to the other side," said what sounded like a crowd of 400 voices. "of course it's uncomfortable over here. this isn't NOTHING. it's all of everything and all of the time."

consider: all or none, what's the problem?
- dichotomous thinking
flagrant says: "i am feeling extremely miserable today."
- understatement!
consider: this is the goal.
- the personal experience, understand and name the emotion.

i articulate feelings rather than simply express a constant level of depression now. minor instances of daily life have calmed, but the awareness of my blazing reality is provoking true emotion. the world is opening up in a different way and there are a lot of complications involving the freedom of 'turning on.' my current state of anxiety disorder does not like the billions of possibilities.

you know, flat, which could maintain any level, worked as a protection for a long time. in totally off or on, mood used to be concrete but paid full attention to either direction. now i experience times when i can hold multiple states. depression needs not just be about breathing in mud and turning completely off- it has to include portions of emotions in other avenues, or at least enough of them for me to function outside of my home during its presence.

that says it all, but how does it read? does it detail how i have just experienced a full blown panic attack while simultaneously recognizing and holding onto sensations of peace in equal emotional pockets? a portion of somewhere deep within is infinitely calm, but my heart remains racing after exploring an earlier metaphor. this neglects to illustrate how i feel satisfactorily confident outside of my domain, though frightened and uneasy this afternoon. the threat of how am i going to be able to get through the weekend ranks, as i am looking forward and planning for autumn. it is almost futile to describe how learning to deal entails touching the safety while also holding the hell. all of everything- this variety and intensity of emotion as an entertainment should be extremely attractive, but i am not yet tolerating this unrestrained division.

this second I AM UNBELIEVABLY TURNED UPSIDE DOWN, and can discern several blended emotions, yet feel ineffective since i can neither regulate nor direct their efforts. i am happy, hysterically distraught, elated, insecure about this, assured over that, depressed enough to warrant jumping in front of a city bus, excited if not tickled for the next chapter, filled with anxiety, and also terrified out of my goddamn mind. mentally, i feel in the state of being beaten to hell but having just won the fight. exhilaration stands next to exhaustion but defeated has made a place, too. defeated regardless of a positive outcome- i am simply sad to have been involved. this is crazy, but it is the flipside and fierce will not last. the argument is having no emotion is crazier but today isn't the right day to negotiate expression.

while not balanced, feeling everything is on the roundabout route to the goal. an opinion that current emotional quotient may be too dangerous to fit into ten loose days of transition is twined right around questioning the actual issue. [the world is changing- oh my god, how can i deal when coping skills are either deadly or no longer dissociative? on the other hand, the world is changing- yeah, so what? it is always uncomfortable but never worse in the end. why disintegrate?] one fear is how the strength which will be gained this next week will cancel a weakness. i am comfortably proficient in keeping and manipulating weaknesses to work for me. do i really want to take this route? then again, here i am- is there an option?

long holiday weekends kill me and it's grossly inappropriate, but i feel somehow abandoned due to being a bystander to holiday activity. invitations are torn without thought, so feeling left behind is incorrect. loneliness? no. there must be another way to put it.

scared and lost are two other terms which need to be tagged today but peace is definitely there, too. in promoting symbolism to build a dam of emotions-- this alternating between nonstop crying and overwhelming elevated mood is frightening but expected. i don't feel right experiencing unstable ups and dysphoric downs, along with instances of giddiness and calm. that familiar flat, and the off or on- c'mon, one has to appreciate the composure they offer.

logically, these which feel like "extreme" emotions may just be an unfamiliar sensation. though not neutral, perhaps they have no intensity at all. [??] i imagine that could be true, but my security is designed around much more than a few comforting words. though i can barely see the computer monitor, all is fine right now. the collection of emotions are slowly coming down again and seem to want to swim through to nirvana. enjoy the watery amusement park, i think, after it's over, i will be too distracted in acquiring my future to even notice these bumps.

consider: lack of control.
note: goal.

i grew up in a household where no emotions were allowed to flow over an event which was not catastrophic. it was stated time and again that i had no right to be angry at anything which happened in my father's home. happiness was against the rules too, as it spoke of laziness or lost time. my father's outlook was that nothing on earth should unwind a person enough to make them lose control of their feelings. "you know, if you get your arm or leg cut off in an accident, then go ahead and cry- but only after you find a way to get the rest of your ass to the hospital." he meant that. i was never to wait for another person to help me regardless of the situation. "do not let anyone see. do not express. do not blink. they will use everything you provide to take advantage of you."

this loopy emotional experience today is backed up with the feeling that i am about to get into trouble. my father used to constantly test me to ensure i would not break down and expend a detail. "you will not be ticklish! turn it off! control it. this is merely a body. it's just fingers on skin!" silent and unflinching, i also learned to ignore the sensation of physical pain, and instead began to watch its arrival in the form of colors or pictures. people like to choose sides, but it is both incredible and sick. the last few years have seen baffling tears or abused robotics, and... now the translation appears obvious. the skills of emotional and physical control would have better served an athletic future. why was that left out? what was my father's intention other than my own security?

out there, someday, in reflection, i will invalidate this time period as easy. i bet i will slash it all to nothing and act as if it were lame. nobody died, no one's house burned down, but the fact of the matter is, resident doctor #4 and i are rearranging our routine/status, and from this different perspective, it is overwhelming. will i feel allowed to admit it later on? i'm a harder person than that by design. crack me and you will find a few more layers to break before infection. it's wrong... it's the default... it's such a soothing thought... but i could live without it.

this transition is such a big deal because it is not catastrophic. i don't come from a place where an ordeal over the 'symbolic end and new beginning' of a time period can be valuable. come to find out, it's romantic and magical and... awful.

this shattering is comprehensible in how it offers the repair, only to break up again, but it is also somewhat unbearable to think i am releasing a historical desire to entirely shut it off.

fastball and hardball in combination with a faster sprint- he could never compete and instead opted to offer the slow pitch. surprise! over the last year, there have been a few times i thought i would get killed by one of resident doctor #4's softballs.

traffic was light and i grabbed an easy space before second glancing at each crack on the pavement. i felt required to pointedly put everything seen on this last walk into memory. to the crosswalk...(crushed cardboard soda cup from in-n-out)...to the campus...(discarded green lollipop with its sour apple wrapper half attached)...to the restroom...(the curve of the doorknob... an orange flyer posted to the wall of the stall which announced experimental treatment for mood disorders)...to the stairs...("fire exit: keep this door closed at all times")... but at the westwood window, i never ordinarily present a distraction.

"my camera is dying," i said, squinting at the display, while holding it up to the blinds.

"oh, go right ahead. do you need more light?"

isn't he great? i do wait for it, but resident doctor #4 never absentmindedly exchanges want for need and one can then easily persist. there was dust and glaring reflection amid subdued office lighting but the picture was not meant to be pretty.

consider: inadvertently changing the entire perspective.
consider: properly lacking composure.

what did we ever say to each other? hm, how does that work and i don't know and what about that? we watched for emotions. we labeled them. at first i was wrong all of the time- not even distinguishing between hunger and sleepiness. now that emotions are recognizable, i vacillate between all of their wonder and balking at the discomfort. why would anyone engage these multiple intensities? how do people carry them all around and still perform?

consider: panic! those blinds used to always be shut.
consider: here i was thinking nothing of standing in front of them.
consider: capturing the departure.

the old switch is welcomed to return during this time of our transition- high or low, off and on. this stands to be a long ten days between meetings, as i am watching both loss and gain, but only listening to fear.

AND on this blog "resident" doctor #4 will remain resident doctor #4 for the sake of continuity or should become _________?

AND why not relish in an alternate avenue of freedom?

AND this is driving me nuts: my professor for an engineering discipline is not fully familiar with the material. AND she also thinks nothing of starting sentences (in print) with the word AND. AND i am annoyed to see this 'practice of and' utilized in courses of scientific calculation rather than reserved for times of art or idiocy.

last day tomorrow. it will be the last day with resident doctor #4 at ucla in his westwood windowed residency setting. it's sad but will be good as it symbolically wraps up our beginning.

it only feels as if the cover of a book is closing. shouldn't i instead be experiencing a sensation of satisfaction and the wonder felt right before eagerly turning to the next chapter?

these last months must have been well organized, as tomorrow seems properly prepared to take any direction. our relationship could end in total, though it will not, and it would all still perfectly compute.

consider: upcoming changes = traveling
resident doctor #4: "you usually go way out there and then return."
resident doctor #4: "plus, doing = becoming visible = offending anorexia."

- i also cried all day because it feels i am losing my home.
- researched rentals, the housing market, and relocation costs.
logic: "what in the hell is WRONG with you today?"

- frequent surges of overwhelming anxiety.
- no separation between heavy symbolism and truth.

logic: "you aren't going anywhere and you still own a house."
consider: breaking away, branching out... making it my own place.
consider: $1800/month rent for a studio apartment in westwood?

- similar experience is happening relating to invalid friend chuck.
- keep trying to find a way to tell him i am breaking off friendship.
logic: "let me repeat: stop crying. you aren't going anywhere."

note: talking to the mirror.
flagrant thinks: you can't come with me.
consider: not leaving, but going everywhere and not returning.

consider: resident doctor #4 is exciting these anxieties?
consider: way too damn much therapy, thus symbolism in my life.
consider: interesting, insightful, but... causing the distress.

damn hosting service! if it were true that each hosted site was receiving individualized attention through this switch they need to do, it should take nowhere near an hour to merge files from my section to the new platform. for some unknown reason, this process is taking all day. i imagine a form of action on my part is required- updating nameservers or whatnot.

i felt such tremendous panic attack episodes today, obviously due to recent and impending changes, but insist on deflecting the core of this pressure to the balancing out of physical chemistry.

logic: "aside from a cat, you are isolated (safe) in a room."
logic: "there is nothing wrong. stop crying. stop being so wet."

these waves of tears are frustratingly unwanted, and constantly are countered with logic for invalidation, but then are suddenly reinforced with the facts of hell. currently i am stuck in a season, but in a few months it's all going to be fine. just hang on, life will calm. yeah, but that's not all of the problem right now, as half of this ride could be due to the physical processing of glucose, sodium, and phosphorous. refeeding. readjustment. the effects of eating disorder do not just reverse. perhaps my body is not expressing thanks.

consider: take an ativan tablet for the anxiety?
flagrant says: "no. i have textbooks to read if i can even remember how. my brain seems to think that it's fine to flip out and force me to cry all morning so i wouldn't be surprised if everything else has broken, too."

consider: anxiety + racing thoughts = beneficial
note: think through issues thoroughly, no bad decisions made.

is this the effect of food forward?
side effect of brain rewriring and body readjustment is 1000 tears?
total whole grain cereal, catalyst of insanity!

i swear [*sob*] i [*sob*] am [*blows nose*] having a good day.

blame summer.
summer always fucks me up.
104'F is dangerous.

blame health.
food-wise, events have been small and safe.
i feel chemically imbalanced in body.

do these feelings somewhat relate to refeeding syndrome?
electrolytes?
readjusting the definition of composition?
water retention?
am i crying to wring myself out?

that part above about being stuck is an extraordinary deal.

stuck is lower than dead.
shrug it off.
last time i was stuck it got pretty bad.
how can it get worse?

where did my arms go?
at my thinnest i still had a body.
where is it this time?

- preoccupation with the lines
- physical flatness
- measuring invisibility

consider: metabolism.
consider: predicted weight loss through digestion.

the scope of awareness is extending to what is ordinarily untouchable.

since GRIT arrived, i have been able to keep in a small amount of valuable food on a nightly basis. though there are only minimal calories (dry cereal and raw vegetables) there is a fear of water retention causing a physical change, and therefore, near chronic checking and measuring. the embarrassment issue leaves virtually all specifics of the illness experience unmentioned on this blog, but then also erases the weight of what i have just written.

translation: though it has been less than a week, the food situation has undergone a radical change. ordinarily, i cannot get adequate calories unless somewhat tranquilized by a foreign diversion, and even then, i barely get by. there is a different balance sheet here, so i refuse to debate the concept of adequacy against one cup of nutrient dense cereal and a flimsy third world salad.

translation of the translation: there is so much to worry about and protect when i travel that stashing a protein bar into my backpack doesn't even rank as an issue. in the domestic lifestyle, i have less to think about, obsess, and therefore am appalled by the attachment. food units are found only in the moment, and never outside of an immediate consumption or abuse. there is never a storage or the consideration of saving a food unit for a later time. it's now or never, meaning each instance of future energy also needs to first inspire an energy to be obtained.

stating in prior entries that i had endured $30 nights can illustrate what to the uninitiated? today is dramatically different than last tuesday but, surprise, it isn't uncomfortable. it will continue. enough said.



i am dealing with a strange problem lately where i begin crying three or four times a day. it's more than simply watery eyes, but less than true crying, as it feels that the tears are forced without having attached a legitimate emotion.

example: i walked four miles at midnight and started crying along the route. though thoughts were filled with the changes i will try to initiate this next year, nothing was wrong- there was no reason to cry. those wanted changes are not scary, rather, i am stuck waiting it out for a few months before they will begin. i was not necessarily scared or upset but the tears would not stop.

exactly four years ago this last month, i had switched over from an unfathomable food problem to that of sustaining a consistent digestion... remember carrying tissues while wandering around copenhagen during the flurry and congestion of hysterical world cup soccer chaos... crying in a hotel room after socializing at a celebrity-filled art reception... sobbing after meeting up with friends at a restaurant near tivoli gardens... walking through a rather tame red light district to attend an a-ha concert that same weekend... i cried the entire trip and none of it was anything other than a good time. that time period in denmark may be similar to the experience i am having now-- crying due to behavioral adaptations and changes at the cellular level.

that temporary cure from the wicked version of eating disorder was not held due to boredom. i noticed a remarkable flatness in my artwork and called the problem back in an attempt to experiment and measure the loss or gain of creativity. it is now three and a half years later- i wouldn't have believed the staying power of a simple reversal.

perhaps, i am excited over the future and rightly crying because "i am temporarily stuck." perhaps electrolyte, metabolic, and hormonal changes (thrown further out of whack during this strenuous digestive process) simply are rendering the wet face to be a physical issue. or perhaps both, in combination of the rest of the heap of this uncomfortable and symbolic june.

powweb, the hosting company for this web site, has begun transitioning their customers to a new platform. the migration for my account is scheduled for this morning.

"all should go smoothly," a customer service tool had written in an e-mail. it never does. who falls for that- and if the smoothness were indeed true, why mention it? either this blog will be destroyed in its entirety (leaving me to appear that i also mourn the loss of sandcastles) or the domain-based e-mail account will need reparations on my side. a quick survey of the powweb help forums reveals pages of angry users dealing with migration-related problems. it's unfortunate, as i could use the therapeutic benefit and communication the blog could offer today.

consider: bad = good?
note: if lost, i'd be forced to update blog layout.

will continue to worry about classes until grades for the first week of assignments are posted/ probably tuesday/ then after the first test score in each class is received i will be home free/ weird/ university life in the past only had lectures and exams/ there were rarely graded submissions/ a paper now and then/ anxiety is different this time too/ did i do too much/ and not do i need to do more/ 27 out of 30 students in an online class have either/ posted a stupid question which was covered in the faq or syllabus/ included misspelled words a spell checker would have easily caught/ or stated comments which anyone with a sense of surrounding would have kept private/ for the younger students there seems to be no compartmentalization between places of seriousness and recess/ i have a tremendous fear of interacting with these people/ amazed at the ability people have to ask questions rather than to do for themselves/ they have no considerations of looking incompetent/ they bask in the freedom of being unskilled/ how can they be seen being lazy in public/ for them all-around evaluation is not a threat/ how was it they were raised with this allowance

- negotiated the future with resident doctor #4 this morning.
- wasn't difficult, but glad that specifics are confirmed.
- informed resident doctor #4 it was important to see him less.
- nothing to do with finances, adequate insurance has been secured.

[--current schedule shuts off anorexia's thrill.]
[--i could let go of his hand slightly longer and learn from it.]
[--anorexia will thrive and hit hard.]
[--it is colder and lonelier in that rigid voxel.]
why am i crying?
consider: love affair?
is it that bad?
[--his safety net will just be a few days away.]

rd#4 will never kill REX.
REX functions as a constant.
translation: rd#4 listens to me.

- our conversation was comfortable.
- very chatty.
- transition feels as though it will be smooth.

- today, i feel genuinely happy.
consider: even excited to leave the westwood window at ucla behind?

consider: filling time with classes is avoidance or health?
- both, but all appropriate choices.

- friday is our last day in that standing cell.
- perhaps i'll be able to sit down.

trying not to pay attention and avoiding the calendar:
either tomorrow or friday is the final day of the project with resident doctor #4. from apprehension and fear, to the future changes in weekly scheduling, this is giving anorexia a lot of nothing to be happy about.

monday- sick of the day one, yet ruffled at sunday. "this is merely a change in routine, office spaces, and billing," i continue to try to turn it off. "so, big damn deal."

unfortunately, after a year of watching for and relating all symbolism seen, even in the flattest of affect or notion, these upcoming changes are supposed to feel tumultuous.

i would rather not experience the variety of upcoming emotions.

class assignments/ cannot find a way to focus/ perspective/ covered material is ungodly mind numbing/ random pieces of lint serve as alternate entertainment/ worst part/ first week of class is over/ bio needs to be posted before midnight/ note/ virtually meaningless bio project is taking all week to kill me/ do not want to be real in either direction/ do not want to be the last student to publish the assignment/ sad/ having some visibility issues/ i took this class to try to displace anxiety. i have a lot of shit going on this month/ not a chance/ NOTHING is nobody's business/ truth/ have absolutely no interest in the class/ truth/ class is not a prerequisite for anything other than debt/ truth/ took this class 'just because'/ truth/ won't lie/ truth/ can't lie/ truth/ enrolled because 'obsessive toward exams' trumps 'obsessive directed toward compulsive disorders'/ *shrugs*/ not good/ i don't know/ that 'insist on being as real as possible' but 'don't want to be real today' part is a problem/ consider/ lie/ i took this course because i wanted to learn all about blah and blah and gag/ not happening/ nope/ not from me/ dear frumpy professor/ bio assignment has acted as philosophical diversion/ rethinking my attendance/ sigh/ so it was nice knowing you/ god/ just type five to six sentences/ no/ smaller than size zero yet substantially bigger than six textbooks could ever explain/ one sentence is too much/ six sentences would be too little/ how do i teach me to be in love with me only long enough to exist/ hmmm mmmm mmmm/ oh fine.

[*posts bio*]

okay/ okay calm down/ breathe/ it's just text/ there is no weight of flagrant to carry around over there/ okay/ much calmer now/ what did everyone else write/ OH MY GOD, I AM BACK IN SECOND GRADE/ note/ my year of second grade was fifth, seventh, and eleventh grade/ my third grade was fourth/ uh huh/ figure that/ fifth grade was eighth and eleventh in math/ rather enjoyed hiding in the sickroom that year/ blue walls/ smelled like band-aids/ consider/ blue/ bandages/ incubator/ my best ten days ever involved an incubated life/ second grade/ what am i complaining about/ lame joke/ perhaps those skipped years need to get made up now/ hmmm/ actually second was second and some fifth but third grade was fourth/ fifth was seventh and eleventh but all independent/ who cares/ it's motherfigure who usually refers to second grade as a full fifth until i mention sister paulette/ now i'm going to have nightmares/ it appears i am the last student to post/ these people are idiots/ working on my tan/ oh man/ should be easy credits/ brilliant/ enjoy partying and drinking/ note/ all student bio examples listed were spelled wrong/ boy did i fuck up/ prosaic/ sabbatical/ declension/ did i really use the word declension/ consider/ nerves/ consider/ the spread/ consider/ the lunacy/ note/ i should make other people nervous/ waiting to hear/ hurry/ c'mon/ waiting/ someone/ i sound like an idiot compared to you/ i win/ wait/ let me try it in your language/ duh/ it's so much more than homework/ yes it always is/ my job is done/ anxiety is dead.

dear blogstalker: if you thought a personalized license plate was mentioned in a previous post, trust the sentence does not relate to a vehicle registration. to reveal the alternative sentiment involving all or none, read six levels below the vocabulary. zoloft indicates more than medicine. buying a porsche has nothing to do with trading in my current car. at one time, i was stuck on collective interpretation, but i have not been at that pay grade for quite some time. i neither intend to reverse nor explain.

motherfigure has been sending e-mail detailing the lives of five black bears which recently have begun to congregate in her backyard. apparently the new fawns have made their appearances known, too. no moose have been spotted lately, but there are the predictable swarms of biting black flies.

how to reply? what to say?

recently, i walked in on a male junkie in a women's restroom at the third street promenade in santa monica. motherfigure would not care to hear about this, but it's all the same, isn't it? what is initially the interesting scent of a threat, is really just another benign annoyance.

note: broken = reinforcement
fact: bad is good.
consider: with REX, grit is effortless.

wouldn't one think that if i endure so much anxiety, to the point it deters from the common practice and is defined as disordered, that perhaps, i would be ignited enough to stay awake in a class? nope. my mexican jumping beans must be boiling en route to the lab.

consider: by the time i enter the room and sit down, my body has put all available resources towards stressing out, it suddenly senses the safety, and then passes out?

the class material doesn't help the situation. i feel as though someone is trying to teach me the alphabet, and though exam scores will undoubtedly be perfect, there is still an unwritten threat of getting docked for each instance of eye-rolling or lack of enthusiasm. i see myself completing this particular course through distance learning.

yesterday afternoon, after many profound statements of endeavor, my body physically broke apart. what a strange day- a problem ended, but then its detrimental effects caught up with me. even using the allowance of myflagrant language, i still do not know how to proceed with detail. it may take a day, a month, or possibly even a cartoon drawing.

my dad sent me an e-mail message. this is very rare, and only the second, or perhaps third time he has shed his isolated world long enough to connect with me through e-mail.

the interesting part: this note is bursting with personality rather than ringing of a protective distance. if not for having to choose which portion of my life to reveal to hold the conversation, it would be easy to reply. unfortunately, most everything i am involved in will promote his anxiety (geographical project in myanmar, setting up a business in vietnam...) or just disgust him completely (philanthropy, educations in domains he cannot define, how i may potentially be buying a car with front wheel drive...).

the horrible part: he mentioned i was the only child who took the time to acknowledge father's day and that it meant a lot to him. all ego-related chest puffing was immediately snuffed out by a disdain for the rest of my jackass family. my younger brother, in particular, is always such a jerk- he could have at least called. whether he considers it a 'hallmark holiday' or not, the date was noted while growing up, and my brother (who constantly stands in front of my father's open wallet) has no defense.

- have been mourning the impending loss of a coping mechanism.
- excited for the physical loss of this coping mechanism.
consider: fear, what will it look like without it?

note: the loss makes the other half of a bigger problem whole.
translation: without BACKWARDS HABIT, eating disorder is 100% REX.
confliction: scared but excited about what remains.
translation: a small vein of health is wrapped around this sickness.

- grit arrived around midnight.
- it actually waited to knock until the session was over.
- had hoped its arrival would stall for another week or so.

- explained to chuck that he will no longer be an eating disorder participant. his activity always affords BACKWARDS HABIT, the indifference excites certain aspects to linger, and therefore his involvement has ended tonight. rather than using a wishy washy cadence, i stated my future will not be available to chuck should he fail to take this to task immediately. the invalidation was defined as the very next time he screws up and it was suggested he retract from the subject of eating disorders completely. i have put my foot down before, but never while printing out preparations to formalize the separation of our properties, termination of his lease, etc...

note: [his/my eggs] + [his/my basket]
note: i can 'up and walk away' with the basket.

consider: did i just put chuck out on a plank?
consider: frantic flailing?
flagrant says: "all he has to do is nothing."
flagrant says: "call him a professional."

it is a scary thought to break this connection, but then again, i never drowned. "don't tell me i am robotic and yet think i couldn't erase all consideration of you."

consider: an invalidated chuck?
flagrant says: "eh."
consider: this apathetic attitude on a daily basis?!

eating disorder participant = one who secures unwanted or unrequested foods for me out of their own fear. this has been a common problem with people who have come and gone- it eases their mind to supply nutrition even when they know it will not be tolerated. people admit that a bad decision is better than watching me starve completely. i argue. what's so hard to watch? i think they become appalled by their own consumerism rather than notice the way i cradle myself through difficult hours. you disgust you, not me disgust you- i just reflect. if fear was a reasonable excuse, the inability to summon enough breath to speak should then be a concern, but no one ever acknowledged the weakness wimper.

which is the least of the two evils?
backwards logic with long term consequences?
cold and distant insanity?

their main argument of participation is, if i am inevitably sick due to food intolerance or eating disorder, there was a caloric absorption. i never believe anyone cares about the mathematics of health, rather, there is a radically elevated mood in the pre-process, and during that time i am fun to be around. [vague translation: glycemic index, what a fun drunk, high on carbohydrates, etc...] the flipside is fierce- impenetrable. if i were in their situation (without insight to the myth and disintegration), dressing up as mrs. field's and playing devil's advocate would appear to be the best choice.

i understand the dilemma, and repeat the topic occasionally in an effort to right their wrong, but it never works. [people think about it too much, try to give their side even more excuses for why they act dangerously, in an effort to make the harm they cause reasonable, to try to take full blame, to quiet my opinion.] it is an understandably difficult commitment, but we can no longer accept familiar roles.

BACKWARDS HABIT has been over but lingered at THE END for a long time.

enter: grit.
[-much smaller commotion than expected goes here-]
BACKWARDS HABIT is no longer a blog character.

1) i was out running on the sidewalk, and a man driving by in an suv decided to slow to my pace. it may be funny now, but initially it was frightening. it turned out his intention was only to distribute a business card! had he been a lawyer, life coach, or personal trainer, this aggressiveness would make sense, but seeing as he was a handyman, i rebounded in the opposite direction. the combination of 'assertiveness' with 'minor household repairs' had me immediately profile this man as a proficient thief. possibly worse? i don't need that in my home.

2) while at the store buying a gallon of fluoridated water, the cashier offered me $5 for the pleasure of touching my hair. that didn't get him anywhere so he proceeded to offer me $10. no. $15? no. $20? no. of course, by declining his $20 offer, he thought i was odd.

consider: becoming visible. tolerating it without retraction and subtraction. the potential for a classmate or associate to read this blog. worrying about the line between privacy and presenting illness. sending previously published facts back to draft due to a meaningless stranger. is it time to take the splink license plate off of the car or is it time to bolt it on the grill? can i use the term anxiety disorder in the new situations i will find myself in? should i? perhaps i can get by without that crutch. stating discomfort is a good ice breaker as many other people suddenly relax upon hearing of nervousness. little but strong connections could be made with a shy confession. supposed to make connections, and would rather not, but... i only belong in the insecure group before i decide to arrive.

i hate cryptic posts but also somewhat fear the day when the ability to appropriately articulate anger will arrive.

[edit!]

yesterday went fine until a man tried to be sexually inappropriate with me (in a public place, at a university). perhaps this wasn't blown out of proportion until arriving home and using my discomfort as an excuse to get sick. anything works, but the boldness of the situation offered the eating disorder a few extra points. i can barely type from this subsequent wonky omission- as if i've thrown up so much in one session that my eyes no longer know how to focus. if i was getting some nutrition, this coping mechanism wouldn't even rank, but dehydration elevates the risk. if i am not going to be proactive, then, big surprise, it remains.

it's never the intention and love the excuse.
i hate the excuse.
it's over- the process did not do its job.
process did not cancel out facts, awareness, time...
now i feel like crap on crap.
hello?! the process DID NOT WORK to dissociate.
[- acknowledge how coping mechanism should end here -]

it'll happen again tonight.
i feel it.
still stuck on "breaking levels of awareness" rather than grit.
translation: "[x] occurs much earlier in the cycle."

what is [x]?
all but yet none of its 500 somethings, simultaneously.
note: as clear as it gets, lacks a simple definition.
grit? yes, i see it. grit is on its way.

FEAR grit.
FEAR 'decision to act' won't allow failure.
grit without failure = REX, anorexia as life force
REX without BACKWARDS HABIT = stronger scarier problem

would have openly complaining about the man and his inappropriate behavior after the fact have helped? even if only spoken to myself, it could have worked as a form of attachment theory. "god, what a freak! what a jerk!" [etc...] i did not establish a secure attachment after the experience and put it on myself rather than considering him crass. [body attracts? all my fault. body is on? turn body off!] the sad fact is, whether turned on (health, sexuality) or off, a body will still attract. i neglected to find a 'safety' and automatically went for the drain.

now what? stay in today and wear an oversized cardigan?
[-and relate to complacent cubicle workers here ?!-]
i refuse to be that.
[occasionally need to be reminded]
i should instead be what is possible.

if the fog can burn off soon enough...
consider: avoid the avoidance.

[-water, short run, and caffeine go here-]

"the problem is not with that man," i would say, "rather, i look like a beaten to hell insomniac with more than a hint of xxxxxxx-related scleroderma."

[*shrugs*]

consider: inappropriate person [<--|-->] prey
goal: inappropriate person [---->] prey

considering the enormity of life allowed today (appointment in westwood with resident doctor #4, having to admit to him that i have yet to try the $14 pill and zoloft cocktail, airline flights up and down the coast, fussing with a car rental, securing safe food, shopping for school supplies, trying to locate (and having to PAY for) outdated software, taking a class with mandantory attendance) i'd say it was tolerable. now then, i could use some insight as to how to handle people who have no sense of grace.

it's officially tomorrow and i am suddenly scared out of my mind.

note: fall is coming, will bring intensive studies, interaction, etc...
consider: practice attendance and connectivity with easy courses now?
consider: perhaps time spent will interfere with eating disorder?

consider: summer. shirts. shorts. arms. veins. physical architecture.

flagrant says: "teenage boy syndrome is killing me!"
consider: who knew? who knew?! never was there ever a whiff of this!
translation: the book said, "glossy pages... model... magazine... anorexic."
consider: starved of hormones = gender nonspecific creature
note: which is ugly yet strangely attractive in its oddness.

consider: food!?
consider: water retention + teenage boy syndrome = bitchy transvestite?

i enrolled in a few summer courses- two are in the uc system and one is an online class offered through the california community college system. it's entertaining how inexpensive the community college class is in comparison to the uc- as was predicted, the textbooks for the course cost more than the course itself. two classes out of the three start this week.

note that the mental battle concerns anything other than panic:
1) unneeded credits v. required visibility
2) eating disorder rituals v. restricted time
3) intersected idiot population v. my notorious live wires
4) educational offering v. locating and putting it to use
5) already knowing the material v. ability to get+sit there consistently
6) arrogance v. resident doctor #4 huffing, "you're not arrogant!"

the original plan was to locate language classes needed for the future, but that project proved impossible. to be proper prepared for required philosophy seminars (about a year and a half from now, an intensive study of existentialist writers, completely conducted in swedish) i need to finish the second and third quarter of a third year advanced swedish course. my undergraduate transcripts show grades for beginning swedish I,II,III; intermediate swedish I,II,III; and advanced swedish I-- but how many moons ago was that? i don't know the best way to finish off that last year of language. the credits are not required, just the knowledge.

obviously it's been too long to continue learning swedish straight from where the studies ended, but where is the proper reentry? start over? no. start with one of the intermediate courses? no. ideally, a refresher course consisting of two condensed weeks of each quarter should be offered someplace. independent language study? a private tutor? a contact at the university of minnesota suggested to "just take those last three quarters in sweden" and that she could get me "a slough of grant money" if i accepted a research position at umea for a year. i am not too excited about (ever) going to umea university, but am rather pleased that the world is always open to me.

i don't know.
oh look, it's night... time for running water and swollen glands.

the friday morning appointment. resident doctor #4 would probably disagree, but i talked nonstop. our time seemed confessional- perhaps it was spent avoiding the topic of the next apprehensive antidepressant trial. [infant-sized dosing of zoloft prescribed in combination with another pill: fear of zoloft's side effects, feeling suicidal, swollen breasts, fear of accepting the life and food i withhold, fear of the unknown surrounding the other pill, fear of elevated mood, fear of punishing myself for going/doing/having after the trial of medication is over.] i laid out an exceptionally sneering week and though he assured no arrogance [-something about guilt and compassion goes here-] was also at a loss for proper vocabulary.

if it's not arrogance, then hell, i must just like being mean.

an example of how anorexia infiltrated into daily life, not relevant to weight loss, food, or tangible restrictions, and took away university success.

a few months ago i accepted the damage eating disorder has done to my body, but decided to try to take back what appeared to be the beginning of a lack of cognition.

anorexia, while it swears it starves, essentially eats up my entire life to thrive. it's maddening, but it's accepted. it may eliminate all comfort in an effort to convince me of my worthlessness, but no, anorexia will no longer be allowed to eat my brain. it was difficult to consider acting outside of the illness, rather than blindly continuing to follow along, as even the thoughts of disowning allegiance can offended the eating disorder. [offending anorexia will turn the lovely security of food restriction into an even uglier starvation, and it adds gruelling punishments which reach outside of the world of nutrition.]

i immediately introduced [-two fresh vegetables, which i had trained myself to consider a poison-] into my diet and also enrolled in course offered by northrop grumman. the prerequisite for admittance was a graduate degree in a science or engineering field. upon completion of a few additional courses in the program, a 'graduate certificate' in astronautical engineering is awarded. the subject matter is irrelevant to my life and goals, but the point was to be 'the process.' my education spans an enormous variety of disciplines, and perhaps, this could act to round it out.

the food introduction failed miserably. after a short time of accepting fresh vegetables, come to find out, those cognitive mushrooms barely leave my stomach. i also experience an allergic reaction when eating spinach. it was only disgusting in thought, but actually throwing up food the day after it was originally eaten was no more off putting than normal purging. the digestive process had appeared to not have even begun to break down the food. since then, i don't know what to do (or if i much care) but am starving entirely on sundays and thursdays, and am back to only eating but purging one normal-ish sized meal the other nights. the weather is warm now, and i am having some kind of uncomfortable vascular problem- this combination makes me want to have nothing to do with food or digestion.

the engineering course came and went. [due to my anxiety disorder] it was a hybrid course, mostly handled online, but was neither intense nor very interactive. in order to be confident, i prepared for the profound but it never catalyzed. there were thirty homework problems, thus thirty additional possibilities aside from exams to get docked, and i worried about imperfection constantly. i prefer to play two hands: the midterm and the final. the class is over now and i was awarded every available point.

anorexia takes this from me. i am not allowed to smile, to feel happiness, relief, giddiness, or peace. i am neither allowed to tell my family or friends nor am i allowed the 'bragging point' that astronautical engineering should get me.

certainly, i am not allowed to wink at cognition. no sir.

it's no surprise i can only feel depressed since receiving the grade. i can obsess over this body, and wince at how i had the audacity to think i was finally sick enough for anorexia to have begun munching on my brain. clearly, REX tells me, i am fatter and healthier than ever if i can effortlessly obtain an A in graduate rocket science studies.

june is turning out better than the rest of the year.
anxiety, the fear of transition = replaced with events.

consider: healthy perspective?
consider: or is that called avoidance?

pardon me while i arm wrestle REX in an effort to reclaim confidence and personality. if, after 'he' loses, his overbearing anorexic restriction underhandedly beats me to hell in the alternate spectrums finances and endurance, i will acknowledge and submit. cognition and color are essential. if i cannot bring myself to tease the idiots who search google for 'necked women' instead of 'naked women' and end up on my web pages featuring photos of the long necked padaung tribe, then why even publish here? necked women, said with a southern accent- by all means this atrocity deserves to pull up those pictures of the 'brass ring' hill tribe of burma.


i, i, i, am sick of the i, but i know how i am, and how 'eye' was, and am finally fine with it. yep, so here's to the all. i no longer want to be vague in an effort to protect feelings of a random reader who rightly should be stung. if a complacent person cannot routinely get a pang of jealousy or discomfort from reading this blog, then i must be slacking off.

it was a sarcastic day and the proof is in the sink- i reacted, thus LIFEBOX tossed loompafruits after a copious amount of nothing was used as an emetic. BACKWARDS HABIT has been lingering nightly since its purpose ended and that loss is devastating. 'BACKWARDS HABIT' is the correct definition as ingestion would never had happened unless it was obvious LIFEBOX would be ill. the ritual or 'problem with food' portion of this is over, but chronic in the way i keep looking down the drain for a spark while confirming the end. dare the day reflection illustrates those thirty dollar nights as hell, because, perspective inevitably will change but it'd still be a lie, wouldn't it?

resident doctor #4 sent me home with a(nother) prescription. i have yet to decide if the pill will be mentioned by name or classification on this blog, but will write that he wants me to combine the damn thing with a roller coaster ride or two of zoloft oral concentrate.

it's clear- that arrogant bastard hates me.
good, i somewhat enjoy being the thorn.

the last time i visited the zoloft amusement park, words were exchanged with the director of guest relations. in their glossy brochure, zoloft never properly advertises that their exact location lies in the heart of the city of breastland, so i always find myself disgustedly binding up and packing to leave soon after arrival. it's best to uncover the mysteries of a city while wandering alone, and lately, REX insists on tagging along. zoloft is indeed worse when mickey mouse refuses to leave your side.

holy, wonky omission.
the value of fresh raspberries is not automatic.

whatever. battled the traffic lights on tampa avenue. arrived at the costco pharmacy in northridge. come to find out, the new medicine to complement this next zoloft trial costs $14 per pill! AND resident doctor #4 wrote out the prescription for a tablet size which does not exist. AND the pharmacist technician has to call him to clarify the dose. AND he won't retrieve his voicemail until after six o'clock this evening. AND i live 100 miles up the coast which means i cannot just drop back in later this afternoon. AND not that any of it matters anyway as costco lacks available stock of this mind bender until tomorrow morning.

i said: "good, i'm going home."

AND now i am suddenly very angry about everything.

invalid friend chuck has been avoiding telephone calls from his mother for over six months and the reason is fairly limp- they have nothing to talk about. she is notoriously long winded. the last few times they have had a conversation, it has lasted over two hours, causing chuck's cell phone battery to die mid-sentence. her raspy voice can usually be heard from across the room during the times they do talk. "i just wanna hear how my son is doing." it's funny, but i am not the one who gets stuck listening to her.

yesterday found a collection of voicemail messages delivered to my phone, all dialed from my own mother's number, and honestly this was so unusual that it appeared someone must have died. just as dead is dead, the cost of a last minute airfare to view the dead is pretty damn unwavering too- time meant nothing as long as a connection home was made today. no one has died- i don't need to burn frequent flyer miles or search for a cheap airline ticket to the current version of nowheresville.

apparently chuck and his family avoidance has extended long enough that his mother took it upon herself to locate my mother and then explained in a panic that something dreadful has happened to us. [!!SCREAM!!] understand that my family knows about, but has never met chuck- they only vaguely assume his mother exists. picture some crazy woman phoning my mom at midnight to tell her she is certain that chuck and i are dead! [my parents go to bed around 830pm and my father was insane prior to this added stress- so how will we all refer to him now? i bet he remained awake all night and then on edge until i made contact home.] chuck once mentioned our guest house purchases in cambodia and vietnam, so his mother was filled with the idea that if police cannot locate us in southern california this week, we have definitely died out in the remote wilds of south east asia.

consider: chuck's mother called my mother instead of me!?
consider: confirmation of my biting or ferocious personality?
[half pissed off, half hysterically laughing.]
note: chuck has a history of hospitalizations- she has my number.

many years ago, his mother caused me a lot of grief. i lost every physical possession that wasn't on my person or in my car because of her idiocy. just like that, the contents of my home was gone. it took many years to recover financially from her incompetence, but the emotional damage related to trusting other people remains broken. these days i never really relate her to that time in my life, but her perpetual avoidance works to remind me and renew the bad attitude. she should have just called me and asked how chuck was doing, but given the circumstances i would be scared of me, too.

motherfigure, who has not called me since march of 2005, appears to have left eight voicemail messages on my phone today. we have talked since then, but she is ordinarily not that direct.

death will come when thou art dead, soon, too soon- too shelley, is what it is. so... who has died? well, not her, obviously. do i care? [eh.] do i care that i am too depressed to care? [eh.] death is final thus hearing information of an expiration can wait. dying isn't dead but answering the phone should have no influence over someone's final breath. logic? no, just some diet coke and a nitrate-induced headache for me, thanks. i don't know if i should or shouldn't be thinking about any of this. has father dearest succumbed to one of his various health problems? was a sibling in a freak accident? my illness is directing a rigid personality lately-- heartless, i'm sure --but if there is no connection to any of these people then-- it is in my best interest to abandon this strangely fragmented sentence before typing the regrettable, isn't it?

brain says: "you could end this stress by answering the phone."
flagrant [shrugs] says: "stress? death is the elimination of stress."

note: except for obligation and funeral role.
translation: "this is THE DAUGHTER."

consider: without anxiety there is just... saturday!?

perhaps later. perhaps it has been so long since retrieving personal voicemail messages i am unfamiliar with the access code. certainly motherfigure has not left eight messages because she is lonely and needs to talk. something is either very wrong or her anxiety trumps mine. perhaps the police will knock on my door if these calls go ignored- motherfigure has a history of pulling that kind of crap. i wonder what she tells them- obviously more than a disability and living alone is mentioned to motivate an inquiry. perhaps my yammering on about the lack of connectivity should end and the considerations put to task. perhaps not.

a deeper level of depression goes here. how can it be detailed considering all of the words have been used on prior occasions? how to explain colder than coldest to someone who thinks nothing of heating their home? ah, yes, a third day hunger is less intensive than typical circadian slump as it's the potential which is uncomfortable. if anything positive could be related, it would be that these difficult feelings of late are due to impending change. perhaps i am excited yet just stuck in the in between.

tock.
time's up.
tattered passport has expired.
ten years worth of documented proof i can swim.

consider: aquatics certificate?
consider: an alternative degree?

this may be my most valuable possession.
... and into the safe it goes.

topic of conversation: how REX noticeably restricts my personality.
consider: the loopiness of a few years back.

i was getting so worked up about the future transition with resident doctor #4 and everything which comes with it, but think he is actually helping to excite anxiety. now that it has been decided i will see him in a therapy environment after his departure from ucla, most of my fear relates to billing rather than agoraphobic issues. i will have no problem in getting to his offices. in may, i felt overwhelmed and thought i'd not get through june, but with decisions made and insurance secured, it is not a daily end of the world. actually, the future may be a better situation- a comfortable one. a free homeless health clinic amid addicts and a downtown office with a fountain and marble floors- if my summer with him doesn't fit an all or nothing, black or white life, then what does? this issue may be over until it is about to happen.

random fact: my passport expires in under 48 hours.

consider: prisoner?
note: i have one blank page remaining (two sides).
consider: travelocity?

i successfully defended chuck in court today, stopped to see the used porsche options up close at 'the auto gallery' in woodland hills, and kept in some subway salad. all of the cars on the lot were overpriced, but the same sentiment was expressed concerning the $5 fast food container of lettuce. later, at another dealership, chuck and i wondered aloud as to what planet we had accidentally dropped in on. southern california remains a strange place- just as last year, one can still find MINI cooper S models tagged at $45,000.

after a lot of reflection, and though unsure as how to proceed, i think i need to figure out how to buy a car that i like. [what does that even mean? 'like' was removed from the equation of my life over a decade ago.] is a like a want? i swear i don't want-- please etch it on my tombstone --but this split between having and restriction causes a lot of depression.

perhaps, the choice in automobile should be slightly better version of "the nothing" and i could acknowledge excess by not taking out a loan.

the secret here is that it appears i have a choice in vehicles, but 'the force which anorexia has turned into' restricts the decision. i continue to play around with the possibility of purchasing a flashy car in the same way caloric calculations are debated. on paper, a portion of [-food porn-] could be determined to be non-threatening-- its existence proven to fit into the frame of a food plan. when it comes down to the final decision, the only pleasure allowed stems from the daydream. as long as anorexia [in the form of intensive life force] remains, i cannot expect for it to loosen up in a few convenient avenues.

consider: shiny51, an overpriced audi tt quattro roadster.

just about two years ago i owned shiny51, and could not stand its flagrant excess except during times amid additional disregard. almost immediately, excuses were made to get rid of it. i tried to hold on, but within four months the roadster was sold. life felt calmer without its responsibility and with the bank account back to normal. pie in sky, until it was all taken in, and then suddenly a very familiar situation happened- shiny51 was forced down the drain. what a grand form of shopping bulimia. the only disgusting part is in how things change- how a $51K custom audi is not worthy of a passionate ranking in my life.

so, that sucks, to strive and finally afford the porsche but be unable to take delivery... to restrict enough to have the pick of the buffet without consequence and then not even attend. as long as i submit to anorexia, i basically welcome this conflict and therefore have no room to complain.

excuses for not buying one of those two perfect cars:
- their respective dealerships are located on the east coast.
- invalid friend chuck had his court date today.

consider: could have left a $1000 credit card deposit?
consider: could have at least inquired?
note: both vehicles (though yet to arrive) have already been sold.

in an effort to sidestep the hell of chronic indecision, choices were placed into fate's hands, but fate abruptly decided to have no part of it.

there are numerous reasons as to why the action of replacing my current car with a better model is taking so long, but the main conflict between want and need (once designed specifically to restrict) is holding its own. do i buy a supercar or a basic tool? is this purchase just a transaction or is it again an experiment between the image automobiles can project and transportation? i hate how doing this will interfere with my philanthropic ideas. welcome to the new world where even a woeful model is going to set accounts back $25,000.

perpetual fussiness, avoidance... all of it. perhaps the wish is to be like people i have known. their frustrations about new automobiles always relate to credit worthiness, down payments, and monthly budgets. it's not like that- i have been saving long enough that when it happens, it will only take psychological effort to obtain it. replacing a car which is not broken feels horribly indulgent, and i cannot get over that, but thank god, this vehicle is finally aging enough to become difficult to maneuver around the city. do i get a break? is it finally a need?

it's so stupid that i cannot manage to get this done.
use the blog.
write it out.
kill the problem.
it works for other anxieties, why not this?

reflection from resident doctor #4 had suggested that trading in my car (for sparkle and venom) is somehow related to wanting to release anorexia (becoming visible, taking back or protecting what is mine) and i feel a lot of shame stemming from that thought. [quite simply, i do a lot of driving right now and would like the security, tightness, and efficiency of a new car. in no way am i suggesting the desire to 'offend' the eating disorder.] no matter how sick i am (or will or won't be) cars come and go. his statement seems to be a roadblock rather than a nod and pleasing the anorexic monster remains more important than wholly subscribing to freudian ideas resident doctor #4 can offer. this time consuming ordeal reveals the different levels and barriers built by long term anorexia to him, but the transaction does not specifically relate to my body.

---
consider: business life v. personal life

a few months back, i needed an suv specific to business. the decision to buy, selecting the model, and the actual purchase spanned less than 48 hours. a new range rover- it certainly was not a choice based on need. the difference in the functionality lies in the relationship. behind a business name, flexibility and connectivity are available to me, but my personal life remains isolated by illness.
---

in order to get this purchase done, it is decided that the new vehicle choices have been narrowed down as far as possible. typical me, the options are the all, or the nothing. now then, "the nothing" is not exactly nothing, of course, and don't be frightened as "the all" will not top the price of four "nothings." which car? i don't know. even though hitting extremes, both vehicles are the right choice, as the only winning decision is the decision to act. these spectrums feel wrong, but balance isn't the answer. middle ground currently serves no purpose. the focus seems to have changed from integration to that of functioning in the extremes without doubt.

dammit. why do i have to pay for a car? why can't i dwell longer? this is all ford's fault for purposely building disposable vehicles instead of adhering to standards of craftsmanship. nice try. my first brand new car lasted less than seven months. the vehicle which replaced it was kept for six months. the third new car? about a year. fourth? i loved that one enough to polish it for awhile. this current car? keeping it around felt to somehow rectify a portion of the greediness of the past but-- just take it away. is this car a symbol of illness or a statement of health? initially, i though it to be the right decision- how great it was that i didn't have to overspend, impress, or buy into an image. today, wrought with frustration which seems silly, i agree this old car can illustrate a depth of illness. anorexia has seriously disturbed all aspects of take, want, and have well beyond simple nutrition.

resident doctor #4 is in the process of transitioning from the ucla psychiatry residency program to working in a private practice. (i think) my future with him will be divided between a low cost clinic and his new swanky downtown office. considering i currently see him twice a week @ $0/hour, his fee is going to be a shock. these upcoming medical bills will be a good excuse not to spend money, so the car has to be bought now, or it will get put off for a long time.

car choice A = excessive in price, horsepower...
car choice B = virtually nothing (but something)

mom says: "choose choice B."
dad says: "no. if you choose B, you'll think about A forever."
dad says: "if you can afford A, get A."
note: in theory... none of their business, etc...

chuck says: "i seriously like both!"

i gave up, made a list of demanded options, noted the total prices i would be willing to pay for vehicles A and B, and then handed the choice off to fate. whichever car that fit all parameters and showed up first on a search would be bought. choice A, the supercar, has been extremely difficult to locate. each time a suitable model shows up, which has only been twice in the last year, an additional dealer premium over MSRP has been added ($5000 - $10000). choice B has been equally difficult to find. if vehicle B is going to be my virtual nothing, it is senseless to buy one loaded with unnecessary options. choice B is required to be a stripped down model. barebones- no cold weather packages or baseball leather interiors. on the lot, choice B is always weighted down with nonsense.

the all, the nothing... whichever.
it doesn't matter.
either one.
i am now fine with both extreme A or lacking B.

long story long: a search has just revealed that choice A (wow, without an additional dealer markup!) and choice B (ha, doesn't even include floor mats!) have recently been "born" and both will arrive at their corresponding dealerships this week. the prices, choices in engines, metallic paints, and options (or lack of options) all line up- everything is exact. how is this possible? something ridiculous like this always happens whenever i try to avoid the responsibility of a major decision.

consider: LIFEBOX syndrome trumps emotions.

- flagrant sets LIFEBOX on scale.
REX says: "oh, you're all fatter than that."
REX says: "or perhaps not, but... come with me."
translation: brainparts automatically twist good to bad.

note: june somewhat sees the end of resident doctor #4.
conflict: not the end of relationship, but the end of consistency.
note: down, down, down... anoREXia at least, is consistent.

consider: how is LIFEBOX going to get through june?
conflict: underlying sentiment towards lower weight is, "hm."

thunk.
thunk.
thunk.
thunk.

courses.registered.and.paid.for.
it.initially.hurt.but.not.since.
note: FEAR.