flagrant disregard

there is a current crisis over recent reintegration, its lack of familiarity, and in trying to manage the losses which can stem from dissolving anxiety.

i don't know where to locate a balance and give myself a hard time now when 'normal things' take place. had i never released the iron grip, still panicked about every minor detail, or continued to spend years in thought prior to acting on decisions, these 'normal' events would not exist. this may not be a healthy way to live, but that level of rigidity serves alternate restrictions very well.

consider: there would not have been a recent and out of character 'late notice.' i also would not have overslept one morning. AND no "holy crap if i want to implement desired changes in my life, i have to find a house to rent in los angeles within the next five days." AND no "what do you mean the damn smogging technician didn't electronically file my smog certificate and now the dmv is due an additional fee because my car registration is technically late?" neither infiltration nor irritation could get this close if holding a disordered version of anxiety in hand.

i consider the aforementioned distractions to be minimal in other people's lives, but catastrophic in mine. resident doctor #4 thinks it is phenomenal for any of this disruption to simply have been able to happen to me. basically, once again, bad is good.

a late notice is not welcomed into my life. now i am concerned with researching neighborhoods which can allow for easy access to pasadena (caltech), santa monica (work), woodland hills (invalid friend), and santa barbara (home). AND then there is an upcoming 'job' of calling on the smogging center. without agonizing over everything, i am now starting to doubt every choice made. currently, i can only see what this lack of anxiety disorder is harming rather than helping. it seems obvious that a disordered level will swing back to help manage life, but then slowly subside rather than turn off.

resident doctor #4 is concerned with my deadly systems of rules and structure. they may stitch the current crisis into a safe place, but also put me in physical danger weightwise. also, the combination of my nutritional profile with the prescription pilocarpine i take is worrisome on its own-- there are cardiac concerns due to the addition of this pill.

consider: how this 'crisis' resulting from the lack of disorder would never happen if i were not 1000% healthier in mind.

AND what will liver failure mean to you?
[he asked]

"congratulations."
"there is no longer any doubt."
"i've done good."
AND something about not being able to care.

you cannot care?
[he asked]

"the secret is to embrace the hell which distracts from the destination rather than to avoid or complain about it."

i don't buy it.
[he said]

consider: how the makeshift Magic Closet allows him to twist my words.

i don't buy it at all.
[he said]

you do care.
[he said]

that isn't true. you DO care.
[he said]

AND then i felt very dirty.
AND had he been right, i would have instead felt secretly relieved.
AND this LIFEBOX syndrome could not go on so long had i decided to care.




consider: all of those forbidden words heard today and the psychological spinning we do by using "structure", "exposure", and "The End." how the combination of authoritative tone and his use of "anorexia" with "dead" fueled the love affair rather than related this newest urgency.

AND then resident doctor #4 mentioned his entire schedule is open to me.
AND i drove home with elevated mood after receiving such accolades.

Invalid Friend started his new job this morning. A twinge of superstition always interferes with trying to enjoy the moment, so I will not dare take a sigh of relief just yet.

a rare occurance of managing the public-- pomona, california
chuck and i went to the 2007 grand national roadster show.

resident doctor #4 not only accused me of reintegrating, but of feeling another person's grief. my icy and outwardly titanium personality, which is rarely found these days, roused enough to feel offended. i wouldn't mind if it returned in total.

blogger has been giving me fairly consistent distress for over a week. that's okay, because i don't have any idea how to write __________.

consider: about DAILY LIFE?
consider: about what's been going on?
consider: in a language without neologism or riddle?

even though i don't want to answer or acknowledge, the questions stand: how am i going to live without anxiety? after a lifetime of intensity, how will i learn to live with this flatness?

if this were a biography instead of a blog, i could write about a weekend disturbed by self injury and then follow it up by detailing the sensation of overdosing on a prescribed dosage of pilocarpine. i might even be inclined to explain why anorexia needs to cycle tamoxifen even though LIFEBOX has not been diagnosed with cancer-- but why? the pulse quickens and slows, and though i occasionally claim not to understand the intensity of the past, the reasons for it are clear.

Why would Invalid Friend Chuck take an assortment of packages requiring expedited shipping to the post office but then return with 'media mail' receipts? Media mail?! USPS suggests the delivery of a media mail shipment is much quicker than the three weeks it usually takes to reach its destination. The counter attendants never promote the 'media mail' rate so how could this happen? The paranoia of potential sabotage starts, but dies. Invalid Friend must have simply dropped the packages to the counter and stated, "They're books." Books qualify for a special rate.

Also, since I know I am dealing with an invalid, what can I do aside from stab myself?

Our fight last night was pretty bad. My question won the war. What can you provide for me that I can neither invent nor procure immediately? As caustic as that sounds, with my history of hanging on to disability, it is a very important sentiment. Also, the success I have in shutting down people with one statement is becoming legendary-- I almost look forward it. The correct answer was companionship, but Invalid Friend, who only has hedonist motivations written all over his body, was to get turned around in thoughts of materialism. AND did.

Reinstate The Rule: Invalid Friend is a liability.
Reinstate The Rule: Everything Invalid Friend does or says must be confirmed.

Consider: I should have lit him on fire last night. The trip to the post office this afternoon by myself would have been taken care of properly, or, I would have had other and more pressing matters to clean up.

this day isn't going very well.

i fired an employee.

one could probably say that i bullied a client into signing a contract. even worse, after securing the deal and some privacy, i think i physically jumped into the air out of pure exhilaration.

note: they, whoever they are, will likely fold when faced with your confidence.
consider: rule?

there was an out of character and violent e.d. session with the drain prior to 9:00am.

it snowed.

another session with the drain starts in approximately ten minutes.

AND chuck and i have been fighting. it's to the point i have told him that i will light him on fire by midnight.

long story long:

AND here chuck and i return from a stress free vacation (no hell found) only to fire an employee.

there is neither guilt nor sick thrill of taking what i need, but there is the obscene feeling of exposure.


long story short:

the people who are apt to cross my path today will need your prayers.

Chuck appears to have been hired. The position is with a stable company, comes with a higher wage, and offers more responsibility. Each of these parameters may have been specific goals, but the employment search took no effort, and now the results seem to be meaningless. To make matters worse, a typo was noticed on his resume after he was hired and that error cinched my opinion that this particular job is the worst option.

Why does this situation wear a disguise, too? The job is perfect on paper but I only relate how it is not quite good enough and he should continue to apply. The main focus for me is that neither of us struggled, and as a result, this offer of employment should rank lowest. What position might be found if those skills that my illness can offer are put to work in this area? Why accept the mediocre when a salary ordinarily incomprehensible to Chuck may be available?


In the beginning he will act as a floater, working any of the 100+ miles between Santa Barbara and Glendale. I don't like this, because I am apt to schlep him around for who knows how long, but Chuck seems content.

Am I supposed to donate my old car to the cause or spend February behind the wheel? Chuck has no license and the majority of his driving experience was acquired in small northern towns before his aneurysm. Even if he takes the initiative to get licensed, I am not interested in putting him in control of either of my cars-- especially on a California freeway.

AND consider how he accepted this job and thought nothing of asking my schedule to flex enough to occasionally drive him two hours in each direction. I usually tell him "whatever he needs" but good grief.

Chuck doesn't start immediately and so... we will now accept overpriced flights and the hell of a spontaneous foreign vacation. Good, I was getting tired of playing the asshole and actively photographing and pointing out 'help wanted' signs which advertised for minimum wage jobs.

consider: this lack of anxiety and drive.

what would happen if this 'lack' is purposely abused in an effort to test out something which was completely unacceptable to normal 'anxiety disordered' perspective? what if invalid friend chuck was prompted to choose which job offer to accept based on the make and model of cars owned and parked in each company parking lot?

employment offer #1:
- chevrolet corvette / black, shiny
- toyota camry / white, nondescript
- lexus coupe / silver, standard
consider: the owner, the manager, and the soon to be retiree?

employment offer #2:
- bmw 6 series sports coupe / black
- porsche turbo / black
- porsche carerra s convertible / black
- mercedes s500 convertible / black
- mercedes sl65 / black
consider: these people are sharks.
consider: this position would unwussify chuck.

psst... pilocarpine hydrochloride makes you beautiful.

all of those eyes i always think in advance, when the reality is, the only problem would be having 'all of those eyes' in the room become interested in something other than me.

i keep 'not failing' at the adventures which surround commanding the attention of a lecture hall. note that 'not failing' is different from my version of succeeding.

panic? i have come to step out of the cycle of panic, and now see how The Doubt unfolds. the cycle is fairly predictable. if i refuse to take that last look into the mirror and just step out of the door, i will manage any level of life.

it will probably be stated forever, and ever, and again, but i really don't know how i buck up and take that essential step outside.

capturing a second of dread and doom
H1 East driving into Honolulu- Hawaii

crazy is having a very recent history of routinely succumbing to fear and then not being able to leave the house-- but then (what always seems like) a sudden ability to board a flight to hawaii. in honolulu, vulgar sums of money will easily be accepted in exchange for lecturing over 1000 people at a conference.

question one:
why am i doing this? i know i should act on that which makes me uncomfortable, but c'mon. do i need to 'go and do' at this insane level? how do i articulate myself to other people? "i get stuck in my house and endure an extremely isolated routine quite a lot, but occasionally i am a paid lecturer. i never believe i will arrive, but once i turn on, the 'power' is amazing and the situation almost seems like second nature."

question two:
how is it i can do this? how do i make the jump from one side to the other? it's ridiculous to force the dissociation from life while still stitching it together, only to demand to know how it came together.

GREED stumbles out of the bathtub and runs down Introversion in an attempt to grasp the almighty dollar bill-- five thousand dollar bills. "well..." i stalled, when originally approached with this job. it turns out that the endeavor will barely add up to an hour of actual hell. granted, i could save every second between departure and return, only to call 'hell' in total, but in reality, i never visit the tacky side of hawaii. other than for the several hours prior to the event, this trip will be a very nice. all travel expenses are included and at a level which certainly trumps the typical resortquest package stay.

perhaps i am talking myself into holding equal terms of excitement and petrification.

is it crazy to keep forcing yourself to do the things you could never fathom participating in, or is that a better definition of health? i think it may be a warped form of painful entertainment which fortunately, for me, pays off in the end. entertainment, i wrote. fear has me practically clenched up to the point of tunnel vision or a protective brain fog. i can't see anything. i'm just going through the motions. yep, this pre-departure feeling isn't very entertaining right now. i trust that it will be and... i have to just wait for the exhilaration to pay off.

off i go.
how? i don't know.

AND, oh crap, here it comes again:

Gloom. The Doom.
the threat?
two thousand eyes.
or, one thousand eyes twice.
AND undivided attention.
AND any stumble will be a magnified declarative memory for twenty years to come.

Resident Doctor #4 gave me a prescription for a drug called pilocarpine hydrochloride today-- albeit very tentatively after seeing that my weight was down-- and wants one hand on the panic button regarding side effects while taking this medicine.

Pilocarpine is a cholinergic substance- here's a link. The concern over adverse reactions was brought up again as I was leaving, which seemed to demote all previous pharmaceutical fun to a level of psychiatric whimsy. Is Resident Doctor #4's main concern related to the inevitable cardiac complications if this is mixed with my favorite illicit substance, or merely its tremendous risk of abuse?

monday, a resident doctor #4 day.
has it been three weeks?
LIFEBOX is tighter.
fine, i'll go.

after the holiday vacation located a sick language and latched the tops of boxes which had popped open, a physical prodding began. that's exactly what i mean. at its current size, LIFEBOX is manipulated through deep tissue massage. it's soothing rather than sad to dent oneself without exercise. it's a myth to say one can sculpt their LIFEBOX. then one must wonder how to refer to the visible results of this process. "over vacation, i gave armparts a personality." if today is weird, i'm right on schedule.

when resident doctor #4 and i find each other after a distance has spanned the gap, there is a tendency for me to restrict words and count them like calories. The Rules regulating speech is yet another language and the allowances are as passionately private as acceptable ingestion. he assumes the selective mutism is a secondary container for expressions of anger-- and, seeing as it is another restriction, it very well may be. it's only now that i begin to relate a.n. to deeply layered frustrations which cannot easily be articulated, and the purging to a much more interpretable anger.

great, now i don't want to go to the appointment.
our next two sessions are taken up by personal rather than holiday vacation.

[another three weeks worth of wide open ocean]

consider: could get lost.
consider: could swim so far in the wrong direction it takes longer to return.

since slashing through crap left and right, i dropped one class and am about to end an extremely lucrative saturday project.

it was uncomfortable to be enrolled under a professor who was ill prepared, especially in a condensed course, so i withdrew. AND i am tired of questioning if choices as these are found from health or done out of fear. i don't care. the time allowed to withdraw had almost gone, and tech support has not yet uploaded the majority of the course for online access. our first exam was to take place tomorrow, but accessing lectures remained impossible. it was reassuring to know that the professor was livid, but to fit into my DAILY LIFE, this course was required to be straightforward rather than flexible. perhaps another time.

consider: if the subject focused on logistics or philosophy would i have enjoyed the secondary tests and forced myself to stay?

the saturday project spends three hours of my attention per week and supplies much more than a living wage. i am uncomfortable in admitting that the money and opportunity (though valuable for someone else) is not worth my time. there is a process to follow-- a contract to end. it should be finalized in february.

here i go claiming [excessive/arrogant/mean] again, but what is the correct way to phrase it?

"this is the way my situation is. this is merely truth."
is that arrogant?
no.

this statement of my time being better served elsewhere must look [excessive/arrogant/mean] to a person who devotes the majority of a week to a job. how could it not? having grown up in extreme poverty, i can never feel comfortable declining a financial opportunity that someone not in my situation might be desperate to have. what it comes down to is i always feel [excessive/arrogant/mean] to say i am affording myself a choice and will choose based on what is best for me.

the daydream starts: i tell them good-bye... they tell me i am crazy... something about scrunching my nose to twist the smile into a sly frown before saying, "but no longer certifiably."

is it frightening or exciting to lack the anxiety needed to even cry over chuck's job loss? even though his loss of employment is a perennial situation, it is known, if not required, for me to become a 1000bhp wet mess.

do you know how to replace this missing pulse? i feel lost without the confirmations that [sound/information/anxiety] had offered DAILY LIFE. the emptiness is similarly perceived as it replenishes itself with a deadly [noise/random/anxiety]. quiet often stands at a much tougher level than loud as it lacks validity and pattern.

there is a joke here somewhere, relating the silliness of my alternate history, or detailing the feigning of deafness. consider the predicted knock on the door via flux in foundation. consider the kryptonitic properties stemming from the loudness of a light on the stove. i never consider many understand the definition of remote.

[sound/information/anxiety]= predictable, therefore should be tolerated at any amplitude.
[sound/information/anxiety]= useful, has traction, should be trusted.

[noise/random/anxiety]= cannot be analyzed. the annoyance is in the anticipation of information which will never arrive. this is waste and i have a big problem with gratuitous filler. how to acknowledge the inevitable existence of [noise/random/anxiety] but render its flavor invalid?

consider: how to tolerate every instance of meaningless shit?

consider: referring to anxiety, science, DAILY LIFE, or scarypeople?
consider: all of the above (plus everything else) in a bag, to go.


the missing strain of tension feels to be a lack of force -- a libido -- i have nothing driving proaction. without racing thoughts, the what if, and imploding chest pain, it feels as though i am not doing as much. i am, it just that without that activity of stress, i don't feel as fully invested in any project. was all of the former panic, insomnia, and general lunacy experienced in the past beneficial to the process of production? did it actually get anything done faster?

ordinarily there is a huge amount of mental garbage to sort through. i feel as though this 'lack of work' is in fact true. i am not worrying to the point of hurting my body to promote a replacement chemical reaction, and therefore feel as though i am truly doing nothing to help. in recent times, these employment fiascoes of his are overwhelming ordeals to process.

i don't really know how to help chuck obtain new employment. after tweaking his resume to match sought after jobs, helping him to develop effective responses, and then driving him around the city-- what remains? nothing. the only thing missing is the formerly extreme journey through multiple emotions.

chuck can pay his bills for the next few months- not a problem.
i could pay his bills, or he could live with me- not a problem.

if i don't stay on his ass, he will not produce. he has a documented history of burning through his saving account and only getting a job when down to his last $20. this complacency leaves other people to pick up the financial slack for months until he gets back on top of things. not this time. i have convinced chuck that his life savings hedges around $1800 and the returned look of fear told me he believed it. for perspective, rents in his area on a one bedroom slum go for $1100 and he does not own a car.

so, that's where we are. i am not overwhelmed, but wish to be in an effort to feel the push. there is a concern over chuck's problem, but i am deficient in the flipping out department. nervous thoughts of holy crap he's going to be homeless and siphoning off of me forever start but then abruptly stop. AND chuck is, gee whiz, somewhat more 'on' rather than 'off.'

crazy is having to stop typing because footsteps are heard outdoors.

crazy is probably having the ability to sense footsteps outside of the house.

crazy is worrying about cumulative exposure to estrogen.

crazy is not having anything on record which can tell the tale as eloquently as the taps on the LIFEBOX.

today i would not feel too [excessive/arrogant/mean] to erase invalid friend.

resident doctor #4 considers the [excessive/arrogant/mean] interpretation i promote to be pathological. during the one hour of real world experienced per week, apparently no [excessive/arrogant/mean] is visible. "you have never shown yourself to be [excessive/arrogant/mean]," he repeats endlessly. note that resident doctor freud was banned from this blog in the spring of 2005. consider how resident doctor #4 (an md, phd, postdoc scholar, type-a personality, future nobel prize winner, who works three jobs and maintains a private practice but finds time to volunteer) also thinks 99.999% of people in the world are merely tools. when thinking about his level of life, most perspectives on sloth would not seem to hold any arrogance.

invalid friend's existence will continue, though he disgusts me. aside from him, there isn't too much else 'externally' which is known to drive ill behavior. i specifically think about him and how every so often he screams for the rope. when i throw it to him, he's annoyed that i didn't swim out, place the lifesaver in his hands, and then pointedly close his fists for him.

what reason would be found to fit his absence? sure, chuck could be eliminated from my daily life- then what? the wild rides of external anxiety will cease to exist and i can therefore stop vomiting every night? well, of course not.

now i am constantly reminded how eating disorder and selective mutism will substitute as expressions of anger. i am so unbelievably angry and stressed out at chuck right now and, no surprise, since i cannot immediately fix the issue, REX has taken on an all-encompassing form to structure the chaos.

the anorexic voice this week is not a 'sarcastic' REX, combined with puzzles and ocd rituals, 'who' jokes about the radical differences between FISH and fish. this is a mute experience-- not one to ridicule or bother to voice a snarky comment on the blog. this week anorexia is dark force which one would not approach. i am not living freely albeit the glass box, rather, i feel vacuum packed. this spectrum of illness is not something i even know how to question. the anger is that all of the crap going on this week in my head is brought on by an intertwined situation which i should be able to leave. consider the difference between forcing oneself to travel amid the hellscapes and being stuck on the crowded dusty bus. weight loss feels sour this week -- not something which has ever happened before -- rather than welcomed by my own activity.

more disgust:
invalid friend defines that i need. he somehow, somewhere, at least 1% of the time must make things better in my life or he would be gone.

i will not scrub my arms with a green pad.
i will not scrub my arms with a green pad.
i need an alternative, but the hunger feels full today, so perhaps not.
hunger is huge. hunger is fat.
the hunger is on, thus out of control.

truth:
i would be lonely without chuck. just because i don't need him to help maintain life while in periods of decompensation doesn't mean i don't need him on emotional levels. i could write him off but doubt i want that- i just don't want the stress which comes from trying to keep a Television Watching Chest Crumb Person employable.

plan:
seethe, throw his belongings in the trash, and think the word 'purge' as metal crashes down the garbage shoot. if i were to self injure right now the experience would be worse (pain as pain rather than pain as refraction) but the craving for spiritualized travel remains.

obviously not the right answer.

goal/mantra:
""explain why my lifestyle would change due to another's inferiority?""

it has been four days since invalid friend failed.

how is it he is allowed to stand next to me?

i am somehow keeping it together. there has been no alternate self injury or uncontrollable fear, but veins are pushed and purging per morsel rather than bucket is keeping me content. when the body tightens itself up, illness feels to worsen but may merely be a different version of itself.

conflict:
i cannot kill him-- chuck, not REX. is there a possibility he can be beaten senseless but yet retain an amount of cognition to immediately get up and do housework?

REX would not stand to hear 'his' weight thump down on a bed.
how to understand the nonsense of reverting back to unforced margarine?
in public.
in an airport.
[point the remote, click off, label it satire]

did your eyes widen at the lack of ailment?
did you need to pinch back the pain when you realized that you had won?

i registered for courses today and then went out to collect the necessary textbooks. the classes actually started yesterday and there is a compelling obsession to document the next six weeks rather than just let them slip away.

consider how many imaginary wars i must have outside of this blog to involve myself such as this. consider how the effect of Television Watching Chest Crumb People is a fuel for life. the excuse of education is sufficiently clever as the domain manipulates a statement of continuance. then again, why not hold enough esteem to declare a chosen statement? it barely took grit to designate eating disorder to an untouchable status, so why not rope the velvet around this other unnamed statue i own? the secret is how a university facilitates a venue which allows chaos to agonizingly slow down time. not only is my disorder getting a profound return on its investment, this version of unhealthiness is not deadly, and it even (incorrectly) looks good to those in the loop.

after returning home, i logged on, introduced myself on the message boards, and even listed my telephone number. the two minute post took two minutes this time-- not two weeks. the psychological implications of how to present myself still ranked, but confidence either knew what to say or did not care.

has nothing changed and i just know what works for me or, is it all different?

it is different. it's bland. i imagine everyone is well, has always been competent, and is familiar with the daily grind. why be boring? why comment on a banal situation unless it puts me in the sky?

when the voice of anorexia is pushed, i stand behind it and still question whether or not each intensity is true. when it speaks on its own, the inflection is pronounced and the fear is exciting. i'm snowed, you know. after all of this practice, i actually stopped remembering a trap could be real. it's an interesting evening, one without a need to convince myself that the nothing is fun.

translation: the nasty remarks or silly black and whitelights which stem from passionate fasting barely compare to the magic of authentic decompensation. it's one thing to put yourself in a place of scheduled prison, but to find yourself without the ability to question the exit is a form of peace. if not snuffed out, i could see how multiple anxieties would activate a tribute.

AND for later:
how to explain marks left behind when choked by an invisible force? how to explain the importance of that which cannot easily be interpreted without having the trauma reveal itself on the body? how to explain fighting off a craving to carve out the mental pain just to locate an experience of soothing effervescent bubbling on the same afternoon as finding oneself biochemically bankrupt?

The resolution which kept coming to mind was to check out and line up at the Customer Service Desk. The System currently in place at the 'Intermediate Level' of The Afterwards is somewhat like obtaining a visa upon arrival in Cambodia-- same same, but different!

I know one of the Ineligibles-- he’s a supervisor who manages the Customer Service Desk -- so, Arrival wouldn't be that bad. Shrill and fun, that guy keeps applying for complex sexual issues, vulgar wealth, first world country, free from physical disability, and ripe old age but at his Level can really only expect all Courses offered to appear laborious.

Random Bloody Passenger, Partial Birth Abortion, a too familiar Woodchipper Guy-- whether Advancing or Not Advancing, we all travel the roped-off maze in the Main Hall. It mostly looks the same each time.

The Ineligibles in Processing would tease me as they shuffled around the paperwork. Last time, a Penalty Form had accidentally fallen from the file, but I’d still squint to confirm it stated Prader Willi Syndrome and then wince on cue.

“But you spent Perks to get exactly what you wanted on this last Course,” an Ineligible would say. “And regardless of Fulfillment, your registration appointment wasn’t until 2067, so I am required to have you complete this Penalty Form.” Another Ineligible would snicker while moistening the rubber stamp.

AND what would I do?
I’d stand there in Processing and hold the same damn feelings I hold here.

My resolution for 2007 is to learn to harness and then govern the giggle.