flagrant

what would have happened had i told resident doctor #4 that the plan was to visit east africa over christmas vacation? the symbolism related to starvation is undoubtedly huge, but also consider how ethiopia is a country which lacks adequate infrastructure. i had been serious about leaving on an independent pilgrimage to see the rock churches and frescoes this week. as for now, not so much.

vacation = lack of structure
pilgrimage = great effort, personal significance
ethiopia = impressive starvation
rock churches/frescoes = solid devotion/art

had i mentioned these travel plans, he would have connected the therapeutic metaphors instantly, and would not have written out the prescription for diet pills. when reflecting on the influence of the terms used, in combination with the involved destination, is it not evident that i lacked a commitment to all benefit i promoted? it isn't exactly a secret that i can be 100% committed to consequence, but it sure looks as though i might have been lying through my teeth to get that prescription.

ticket/travel voucher = prescription
travel agent = resident doctor #4

this sentiment of resident doctor #4 as a travel agent or 'facilitator of illness' should not compute, and instead, throw all symbolism relating to medicine and vacation out of alignment. unfortunately, his role as an agent for dysfunction is true to life. it is a big problem for me.



now, since i have mostly decided to forgo ethiopia and am quickly trying to finalize an alternate trip, could this mean that deep in my brain, i have appraised my relationship with the medicine? i intend to use the pills to temporarily vacate my situation, but have i decided not to implement them to their ultimate intensity?

for instance, does canceling ethiopia for a lesser destination suggest that i will let the medicine offer an interesting experience, but i have decided not to devote myself "all of the way to complete starvation" or even to somewhere "unfathomably impressive but unnecessary" such as "further compromised health" or "east africa?"

perhaps resident doctor #4 would have suggested the new vacation plans indicate how much i do not want to please my illness and that i am starting to refuse it. consider why that would remain difficult to hear, even when actively thwarting exigency.

i will not use these pills in a way which will cause permanent damage or death, but i had been obsessed with how the possibility was available to me.

last tuesday, i suggested to resident doctor #4 that a well known prescription diet pill could be a useful tool for treating my illness. he did not fall out of his chair, rather, he listened to the presentation. after finishing, he told me that the gut reaction was obviously to say no, since he had no experience prescribing my requested medication, and to give him a week to think about it. tonight, i walked in for my appointment and immediately asked him to counter the argument.

resident doctor #4 said that my future treatment (for anorexia nervosa, with strober) is apt to be very specific. doctor strober and his associates at ucla will offer a solid plan and then expect me to follow a structure of explicit directions. my independence and education are profound, thus receiving "rules" provided by someone outside of myself/anorexia, is expected to stir many frustrations.

resident doctor #4 came to understand long ago that due to my strict rule system, he can never be a person who tells me what to do. i unknowingly try to get him to write rules, but he can usually recognize the situation as it develops.

he has said such things as "that clenbuterol you were taking scares the living ---- out of me" but will never say "stop taking that clenbuterol." when one considers that "strober, for the treatment of anorexia" will be much different in that it will provide rules and authority, resident doctor #4 thinks it is important for his own role to continue to hold the end of ambivalence.

due to the holiday season, our next two therapy sessions are disrupted. though my request was for diet pills, it's "the idea behind them" and not their pharmacology which would be considered dangerous. it may sound bizarre, but the pharmacological component is actually beneficial to digestion. either our untethered time, or strober's imminent involvement, would have been reason enough to hear my access to these pills was restricted.

a secondary concern is how our three week vacation affords a huge lack of structure. so far, only anorexia fills this type of loss. if resident doctor #4 decided to give me the prescription, could this action come to feel as though he gave me a structure to follow? we look to avoid that, but cannot have anorexia overcompensate for the lack of structure, either.

AND so, after airing these concerns, he told me i presented a strong case for the pills. "how should we proceed?"

i had spent the last week thinking how weird it felt to be intending to succeed at a food plan (positive structure) during a vacation where a negative and crazy time was usually allowed to thrive.

i went on to tell how everything encountered recently has been infuriating-- all people who intersect my life allow themselves to appear inconceivably lazy -- and how this repetitive terror and complacency of ineffective people constantly reminds me of my own ambivalence. if planning to use diet pills as both a safety and another catalyst for digestion, i am fueled, and this feels like the time to act.

he wrote out the prescription, but in doing so, needed to strangely adapt his role. since "strober, for the treatment of anorexia" will follow a specific plan, and these diet pills are distributed under the guise of a tool, they require rules. the stipulation is to use the pill for three nights in a row, and then take the fourth night off. AND absolutely no ________ can take place on the night off.

consider how this rule, which was created for me, from someone other than me/anorexia, will unfold? at first, i must doubt the rule. in this case, is "absolutely no ________ can take place on the night off" even attainable? AND also consider how, a few days from now, i will be enraged to find myself jumping through another person's hoops, yet still creepily perfect in regard to adhering to those leaps.



or, the way mental illness thinks:

you are so fat you can get prescription diet pills! not just resident doctor #4, but the entire world is lying to you about being severely underweight. what does it matter if anorexia responds to cues of hunger and satiety differently than a non-eating disordered person? if you had less than an ounce of weight available to lose, nobody would entertain the possibility. your doctor did not write this prescription thinking it would get stuck in your shoebox pharmacy next to unopened samples of zyprexa and abilify.

like old times, part II:

she has been informed, and means well, but my mother is at a loss as how to help her dying daughter. she decided to ignore my request and once again send out a large shipment of high calorie holiday foods. as predicted, it does not include anything which i can eat. she does this to tend to her own nerves, but it can excite extended weeks of additional eating disorder behavior. i don't know where to direct or donate these groceries. local shelters and food banks cannot accept baked goods or other non-packaged foods.


like new times, part II:

i honestly have come to appreciate the sentiment and care behind this box of food, but there is no obligation in accepting this love in a way which will cause harm. also, i just began a new medication which is facilitating digestion. the food plan has been successful multiple times this week and, so far, it actually feels good. this food plan is still a "start low, advance slow" concept, therefore extremely low calorie, and calm. there is no desire to touch this box of hell and disrupt the progress.



what do you think the chance is that the basketball my brother suggested i receive for christmas is hidden at the bottom of this enormous box of cookies? note that there is room inside. that would be fun-- then, of course, i would need a basketball hoop. my health insurance offers a free gym membership starting on new year's day-- perhaps those 24 hour clubs have courts.

my mom appears to have been involved in a cookie exchange at work-- i find it very hard to believe that she made this crap which she sent. her efforts are ordinarily very strategic. there is no way she would try to pass off traditional chocolate chip or oatmeal raisin squares as christmas cookies. a chocolate chip cookie lacks adequate symbolism for the holiday season. i think she intentionally countered this glaring error with the amount sent.

consider other people's cookies... other people's cookie sheets disgustingly corroded due to the use of non-stick spray... AND how Lazy Baker's ordinary Cheap Chocolate Chip Discs of Boredom were thought to be acceptable to present to the festive collective... how that innocence and lack of exertion means the inclusion of Thoughtless Margarine... AND how many people never care as long as they taste good and there is room for their head in the trough...

AND how this elitist shock lacks humor and falls flat since even regular blog readers haven't much of a clue to my unheated lifestyle.

the best part about this package from my mom is also the worst. i cannot partake in this love due to salicylate sensitivity and anorexia nervosa, but included in this box is a sterling silver medical alert bracelet with "salicylate allergy" and "anorexia nervosa" engraved on its heart-shaped charm.

the dialogue is interesting, but outside of eating disorder, i no longer intend to act on the omnipresent conflicts standing between "what i can earn" and "want v. need." my anorexia is very skilled. over the lifetime of the problem, its definition has grown to incorporate the restriction of unrelated aspects of life. rules designed to regulate 'finances' or 'common occurrences' are no longer required to be held in an effort to help restrict my body. not until after i buy, and then start flying my own jet to japan should any pang be allowed to question excess.

consider how this sarcasm nodding toward the idea of buying a transpacific-caliber transport offers a potential five year goal with leeway to spare. AND how flying myself to japan only once is fairly meaningless to my interpretation. AND how many of those people i know never strive, preferring to moan. they dream of gathering the talent to afford riding in first class to anywhere.

i am so angry at those people. one parallel in stagnation is how i expect to utilize their laziness daily, until death, and never tire. this reveals a disinterest in releasing my own restraint, and how the squeak of their hamster wheel is a daily, annoying reminder of deadly ambivalence. those people is a critically immediate translation back to me.

my body is restricted more than ever.
my voice no longer appears to be.
this should hurt to type out.

there is a noted lack of tittering while formulating this entry-- no familiar sentiment of "don't do it, don't do it" trying to croak out from the clenched voice of introversion. joking over this excessive, but definitely attainable goal of flying a personal aircraft to asia only ranks as a slight torment today. i have been "taking" fairly well when allowed to share, but the problem continues to land on keeping, or allowing myself the full experience. whether it be shopping, emotions, or eating, routinely everything gets returned.

consider: when this entry may catalyze enough innerfolding to hit the white spark of inconceivable self-hatred. your dollar says tomorrow. AND, well, let's just laugh at how, of course, my yen says not to waste its scent on a bet.

- miscellaneous vipers I, II, III
- random cobra
- enormous cobra
- egyptian cobras
- assortment of little cobras in water
- intertwined cobras in a rice paddy
- moroccan cobras with mouths sewn shut
- kid at taman negara holding a small grass snake
- golden python
- stranger holding green python



no photographs ever taken of The Rattlesnake, sorry.

i neither received an enlightened response nor vitriol after calling out the perennial wuss. then again, i poked that which is accustomed to playing the wuss-- it's me who was nervous to call it.

later, an intentional error in spelling met a person without aspiration as a secret way to state my level of effort. i have no intention of any undertaking, not even of lighthearted engagement. AND had he made the connection (or my foot kicked anything other than air) my response would have loosened a third tooth. AND no, there will be no sympathy awarded to that which decides to pet The Rattlesnake today.

happy santa lucia day.

want:
- my own apartment in seoul
- someone else to negotiate the arrangements

need:
- accommodations in or around seoul for only five days per month
- to start making decisions

considerations:
- key money (deposit) on tiny apartment is easily over USD$100,000
- key money has no indication of security
- price of a five night hotel stay would be higher than monthly rent

conflict:
- paying key money, enduring its great loss of investment

------ alternate considerations, fairly inconsequential:
- my friends who are under contract in seoul are leaving in february
- my brother was working in seoul but recently relocated to hong kong
- without impending visitors, i could get away with staying at a hotel

consider the excess, and try to choose:
- the larger amount of money that would be spent on a hotel?
- the gluttony of paying for 25 days per month of an unoccupied rental?

extremely uncomfortable idea, therefore The Best Choice:
- a homestay arrangement, find a way to stay with a local family

like old times:

telephone rings + answer it = second job offer in seoul
telephone rings + answer it = second job offer represented with sugar coating
telephone rings + answer it = "while you are in korea can you..."

like new times:

telephone rings
+ answer it
AND immediately say, "stop calling my private line."

over. done. another assembly of stupid fours and points and zeros that don't mean jack. i feel so unsatisfied that i may actually be angry for forcing myself to finish this term.

still, merely two minutes away from finishing this excruciating class
AND i can't do this anymore.

i like myself so much more than forcing this nonsense, i swear.
AND, no, i am not stalling on this useless paper.

once this structure of the term ends, my own substitute will knock on the door. how will anorexia try to schedule the next few weeks of free time? what will it bring along? The Doom? obsessions? how tiring. i am already dealing with preliminary intestinal failure-- so if Death showed up, that wouldn't necessarily trump the 'remobilization of edema fluid from the periphery into the vascular system' would it?

more or less, any act from Death would be like calling a tie.



or,

Death could stop by-- it's been here before. Death is familiar, surprisingly open to most negotiation, and easily repositioned. Death persists, but isn't much of a threat. anorexia always brings Death along, so what? worry if anorexia brings the drug. it's Complacency, or ambivalence, as either their companion or my distraction, which will kill me.

only six sentences until my course work for the semester is done. it's almost a yay. well, it's been almost a yay for two and a half days now-- only because i cannot seem to cap this excruciating paper.

only six sentences to go!? "get it in gear," i'd say. perhaps, ten efforts would serve the project better, but the problem with creating ten! more! lines! of! banal! depiction! is how, god forbid, i might come away feeling involved with this class.

mexican political symbolism.
written in russian.
c'mon, only six sentences to go.

oh look, the bloomingdale's 2007 holiday catalogue. ordinarily i wouldn't care, but as of now, anything aside from the act of finishing this paper-- oh, look... even specks of lint -- could hold my attention.

[thunk]

page 132: either, but why doesn't the item description list inseam lengths?
page 39: buy me the blue one on the right.
page 13: AND the other one on the bottom.
page 7: i'll take it in silver-- and don't bother gift wrapping this one.

mm-hmm, back to finishing this paper.

school's out-- somewhat. one third of it remains in session at another campus. typical me, i have scored 100% on 100% of all assigned objectives and was as bored as hell. the only effort put into these courses was in moaning about how much they were wasting my time.

the term at my other school doesn't end for a few days. i only have one paper left to submit, and it is intentionally effortless because the professor has been ill. "paper" seems like a strange title because this is barely a task. at most, i should fill one page-- a 500 word opinion.

yesterday i completed "an arduous" final exam in 21 minutes. i didn't doubt that it was perfect, but did wonder why an additional 2 hours and 39 minutes were allocated. other students sighed and seemed stressed, and each time their emotion was released i thought i would cry. was this exam not indicative of our attention? for what reason would there be any shock as to what it could include?

AND since these students have NO alternate endeavors other than this education, how could they allow themselves to be unprepared? where was their stress coming from if this exam was what they signed on to for their entire fall? it's difficult for me to consider any sympathy because, along the way, they only revealed worries about being behind on buying the current trends, or they had issues that any effort in organization would cure.

AND so you know, i may have had to turn into my dictatorial father to command that which i involve myself, but i don't enjoy the difficult read, either. i do love what becoming cold hard concrete allows me to earn, though.

i'm such a freak. i couldn't find any thrill of anxiety out of this semester. AND when that exam was marked in total, i sat there for a minute and waited for the rush. there was no rush. i felt completely unchallenged and now, very sick.

that's just me-- romancing their lives. what would it be like to live without the current dysfunction in my life? easy. thus, their life would be easy for me to navigate. they label it "stressful" when not knowing how to save enough funds for superfluous material goods. i imagine i used to think so.

i want someone on my ass constantly because i am barely jogging. running for myself is no longer fun-- i want someone to chase me. as i sat there, it became greatly apparent that my anorexia, with all of its conflicting rules and puzzles, is going to remain essential to keep me additionally occupied.

honestly, i don't know what use this line of education would be to continue. it hasn't taught me to think differently or opened up a new domain. if anything, it reinforces that i need to restrict ideas in order for those at the end of the line to understand. other people don't have the capacity to hold three available options for each of their seven choices-- hell if many individuals can even summon alternates to anything they are told. this makes me very nervous to want to know people.

AND so, i have been thoroughly unsuccessful in "finding a comparable warden outside of myself/anorexia" in advanced education. AND no surprise, i only lacked difficulty in wanting to attend to unfamiliar subjects.

"so tell me, out of the positions that are available, why on earth is a guy with an advanced degree applying to entry level? did you not consider any of the assorted red flags this would raise? AND, if you did, do you understand why you want to reveal them to me?"

this would come through as unnecessarily bitchy, but the fact of the matter is that i want to know. this applicant refused to explain himself, but is presenting himself to me, and so, i want the conversation.

note that this man's education is rooted in the arts and humanities. he also has several recent awards related to his field of study-- AND, not that a course of study must always matter, but this is completely irrelevant to any 'technical' employment i currently offer.

what is meant by this incompatible introduction-- do you think it's introversion?

is this inquiry for entry level indicative of disorganization and an inability to thrive even though certified for more? or is this simply a person trying to get a foot in the door of a different domain? perhaps he has been looking for work for months and will take anything?

AND if so, why? AND, yes, i do have one hundred other questions. AND they definitely aren't as limp as these.

why do i care?

why not throw the papers to the pile or leave them for Mr. Please Don't Make Me Do This? i think this applicant is the person i used to be, and we would both benefit from knowing each other. i could manipulate his perspective and floor his potential while confirming my own map. not that i allow myself to connect with many people, but if his operation and (lack of) reactions were sensed in advance... mmm-maybe?

or not. perhaps, to him, a job is a job. perhaps he is lazy-- this could be the complacent loser i imagine when needing help to step out of my front door.

how can i start being selective? i don't want to change, and will continue to be compassionate, but i cannot design a reason for everyone who shows up to remain. i always thought i didn't want to hurt people's feelings by rejecting them, but what if that isn't it? might i actually be desperate to find someone i can know?

AND, wow. if that is true, then it's the complete opposite. i am apparently looking for the loser who cannot hurt my feelings.

this side of the world might just want to close down this day and prepare for stars. applicants who are approaching my green car project and could benefit from the boost are scared to reveal any personality. AND consider how i must absolutely reject any squinting to seek out the hidden keyword. what's funnier than a $40,000 a year millionaire who is too proud to show up naked to the game?

given the current intensity, i would throw unopened application packages away based on choice of font or clarity in script. too bad, for not only the blog, but for lunacy and an overt bitchiness that no one born could command. until being told to kill the rabbit, these prospects would be under the light defining both benefit and red flag. AND therefore the hiring process has just been awarded to the lovely fuzzy haired Mr. I Don't Want To Talk To These People Either Why Can't We Just Do This Project Ourselves. yep, it would take a day to say how much i like not having to hate him.

bother! each documented penchant for stagnation no longer reduces any hope for potential. no way. these applicants promote my exaggerated energy since they remind me of my sweet solitude before the rot. stab you. deflate me. AND sigh. or, seek out he who knows how to grab the blade of my knife when i go around piercing housebound shadows.

consider how my history will continually interview for my future. AND i cannot choose to entertain each instance. all of it, at that famous rate of all of the time, must no longer be capable of inspiring my attention.

i have been acting as a volunteer pet-sitter to help a few people who were displaced by the recent malibu-topanga canyon fire.

all week, since restricted by personalities other than those in my own collection, the obsession was to Go, and Do, and Fondle, and Buy, and Throw It On Visa While I Was At It, only to return to accumulate More, and specifically not compromise All if i was indeed intending to take All.

god, c'mon! when am i ever going to get to do that?!

since i was basically bathed in significantly different scents and unusual drool, i mostly remained home.



the conflicts were:
1) how dumb would it be to try to walk three dogs at once?
2) the owners might be strangers but are apt to try to take me out to dinner next week, aren't they?

an owner stopped by to collect the last pet tonight.
how typically predictable, i am dog-free and have nowhere to go.

also, consider how resident doctor #4's departure from eating disorder now grants our tuesday nights endless therapeutic metaphors filled with food and sex.

i don't trust your sometime-after-january, resident doctor #4.

no sir.

AND that garage band look you've got going on cancels the sir, so just no.

AND also, if you remember the old times in the magic closet, once you were younger than me. that's alright, when you terminate us next year it will prove my act of protection roots itself in the refusal to fully connect.

where is this anxiety headed other than north on the pacific coast highway and never to an interstice between trick or truth? "Idea isn't a mere possibility, Brain. so never tell me it's fine, it's always fine when being terminated actually has got a slick chance, damn you." AND so why ever admit the location to that which doesn't yearn to go far enough? i refuse.

AND why call to only confirm resident doctor #4's secret is locked? AND what would he say other than, "wow, this is something we can certainly discuss if you wanted to bring that up on tuesday." bastard or dastardly daydream? neither, yet both. know to never reject such respectable efforts i take to make my person worse. AND then consider why disregard would ever be blogged.

it was obviously darker at six o'clock than when the phone rang in the middle of the night. AND only because his voice said, "i want to tell you absolutely not." AND that was crazy to hear him commit to a hand-over-hand slapping future rather than attempt to learn from my spin dizziness by letting the obsessive concern age.

hmm...
how odd for him to offer a concrete answer.
why did he do that?

prior to tonight, whenever i have been overwhelmed with racing thoughts, resident doctor #4 has NEVER offered my anxiety a definitive answer. even though it usually feels as though it will kill me, and regardless of the domain, his process ordinarily takes an ambivalent post between my extremes: "all of those possibilities are very real. whether or not they are likely, who knows? how are you going to deal with not knowing the answer?"

assembling strategic health care could appear to be resident doctor #4's exit strategy, but now it is confirmed that he has no intention of using my future medical team and their cohesiveness to terminate our relationship.

worry. never acknowledge worry regarding the depths. the monster in the room logs all facts, so speak around the words. in acknowledging a health, it can break it apart. verbal traps remain scattered in the safe places. pat the back in advance of an absence, then unintentionally stab it by awarding notes to the opponent. pure loveliness. antiseptic cold churning. consider it practically the color of lightning. consider the blue white light of a flashbulb which is not painful but still hurts. emotions have been recalled. i returns to we but it's routinely other's fingers called upon to secure the knot. suddenly nothing bothers me-- we offer nothing external.

"AND why aren't you doing that, now, for us," it asks, referring to water and saturday.

there is one predicted problem with establishing relationships with the two aforementioned physicians. i don't know how to counter it because 'slightly more than half of me' thinks it is not a problem, and instead, this 'problem' is looked at as a challenging project.

consider how anorexia will soon receive attention from other physicians and this results in a huge space of relief for resident doctor #4/me.

even though the care and attention it gets will come from notable e.d. faculty, it is incorrect to presume that this ultimate level of attention will be adequate. anorexia manipulates people into keeping their roles. the only way people have been allowed out of it is for them to choose to leave my life entirely.

a few weeks ago, i had detailed on my other blog how anorexia refuses to be second place in any domain. this particular entry had referred to medical billing and insurance. when it comes to diagnostic codes and facilitating the insurance billing process, for reasons of parity, the particular code 301.7 (anorexia nervosa) should not be listed. my doctor had predetermined a general code should be used to keep the insurance billing smooth.

skip over the rage, broken items, disturbance caused to other patients in nearby offices, and scuffs on resident doctor #4's office door...

last tuesday, when he was establishing my bill for services rendered over this last month, rd#4 suddenly stopped writing. he asked which code *i* wanted him to write on the form. anorexia always wins. rd#4 may be my tool, but he should be required to maintain an authority here. this is not the place for me to direct him.

it's difficult to imagine that in resident doctor #4's office, we could first focus on "something else" and leave anorexia as a symptom of "something else." how not to summon for the dry death until an intervention? how could he not renew his role?

attention lost, second place.
infinitely important, but perhaps, not allowed to be important there.

right now, i worry about the emotions which will fold. by its design, it cannot go ignored. i will find myself without trapdoor in a complex where only water is allowed during the week and then 100 calories can be held each saturday.

when we heard my mother refer to safety, chuck suddenly crashed his radio-controlled helicopter into the blinds.

when my mother referred to contagious children, the wet nose of a dog stamped his approval on my leg.

when my mother referred to adequate hand washing, fractals of those dripping children sang "the happy birthday song" over rushes of running water.

when my mother referred to preventing the spread of germs in airline cabins and then unexpectedly used the words my daughter, i took charge of my future mood and abruptly changed the channel.

i have never felt as good as i have over the last two weeks.
i could never wish for a better life.

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