put it in a backpack

So here I am again, writing to procrastinate writing my actual work. Man, I miss having really steady work and not having to cram as much as I can into as little time as I can. I’ve written 30 guides as of now, in less than a week. It’s a lot… but I wanted to do more. ~15,000 words. If I was doing nanowrimo and writing a novel that fast I would be right on fucking track. But that’s not how it is. Instead I just wrote 1/4 of a novel’s worth of words about fucking wedding venues. Oh, and a cool thing is happening right now on the facebook. {and by cool… I mean terrible… torturous} The video from my show is up on the youtubes, and everyone is sharing it around and I’m tagged in it a bunch of times… and the darlings used a screen shot from it, that has *me* in the background, as their current cover photo. I look like such a disgusting round potato lump… Like… It’s horrifying to see myself and horrifying to know tons of other people are seeing it. I can’t fucking believe that that’s what my body looks like all the time. It’s horrifying to see, truly horrifying. And like… that’s me **after** a significant fucking amount of weight loss. Like… Holy fucking shit, how is that even possible? How could I have ever been bigger than I looked in that fucking picture? … in that fucking video that I clicked and watched part of because I’m a fucking dumbass and I couldn’t just let it go. How is that even physically possible? I’m honestly genuinely deeply disturbed by these images of my physical body and I don’t know how the fuck to deal with that. Sooo…. I’m doing *great* overall, as you can see. I’m stressing myself out about a ton of other shit too, shit I can’t currently actually do anything about at this very moment… but that certainly won’t stop me from stressing about it. Meanwhile, it’s 4am. I’m at my parents house. My S.O is fast the fuck asleep and so are the dogs. I have a big hair clip clipped onto my bottom lip, because I like the way that the weight feels, and how the little tines digging gently but persistently into my skin feels. it’s peaceful and quiet and I don’t think I could sleep right now even if I wanted to, because I had coffee not too long ago. I need to get my shit together, like in a bunch of different ways I need to get my shit together.

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True facts about my life

The more I think about my relationship with my body, and my relationship with ~food~ the more I realize how fucked up it all is and always has been. Fucked up. Mentally and physically unhealthy, confusing, painful. I find myself terrified of how easily I could lose the progress that I’ve made. How easily it could be undone. Progress that is still so insignificant compared to what I want… but it’s mine and it’s true and it’s a good start and it’s something. It would be so easy to backslide and I can feel it trying to happen and I’m using a stupidly huge amount of my willpower to stop it. A stupidly huge amount of my self  devoted to stopping it, to pushing past yet another dumb hurdle my mind throws up, and to keep going. The defense mechanisms in my body that want to keep it are starting to scream in protest and I can’t explain it to them So I just have to override it. It’s a fire I have to keep lit all the time on the back burner. An awareness I have to keep at the back of my mind at all times, and usually that’s fine. Usually that’s enough, and it’s fine. But sometimes it’s not enough and I have to just concentrate. Just sit there in my head and repeat what I want, and why. Tell myself to be strong, that I can do it, that it’s working. Remind myself how much better I already feel. And if I seem far gone, that’s the truth about where I am. (({i’msorry})).

I haven’t heard anything about the writing trial I did a few days ago so I’m assuming I didn’t get that. Whatever. Haven’t heard from the client I was just working for either… and they paid me $60 less than I actually earned. Haven’t heard from my main client either. So….. nothing all around, and I have a little bit of money but it’s only a little. I need new work soon and I hope it happens. I emailed the relevant department yesterday asking about my grad school application, if anyone knew what the deal was. This is the vague and confusing response I got:

Dear (me):

While I do not know the status of your particular application, you should be hearing from the program by tomorrow, April 15th.

Best,

(literally not signed at all by anyone)

Sooooo like what the hell does that mean? Are they going to email me by tomorrow? Am I supposed to get my letter by tomorrow? What’s the d-d-d-deal yo? What am I supposed to do with that information? I guess wait until tomorrow… and see what happens. I’ve got a variety of plans for tomorrow. I would like to go to the library’s $5 per bag used book sale, because I hella want a bag of books for $5. But we’ll see if I can make that happen… or if there’s even anything I really want. Then in the evening we’re going to a rocky horror themed belly dance show, which sounds hilarious and I really couldn’t miss it because I love me some rocky horror. Yeah. okay. okay. yeah. This turned into something really long that probably no one is going to read, but that’s okay. I’m gunna go row. I’ve got this.

the boo cat club

I’m finding it nearly impossible to concentrate on doing my work… or doing anything really. My brain like won’t bring the right words into focus, it’s super annoying. I’ve written 45 fucking wedding guide things, and it will be 60 by the end of the day on Tuesday. @_____@ Isn’t that special?? Just super duper special. Yeah. yeah. yea. ye. y. I didn’t do any yesterday because I just couldn’t deal with it. And we went to the opening of my brother’s girlfriend’s dance studio last night. (“She’s like the president of belly dancing in the city now.” My brother said. “… so I’m like… the first man of belly dancing.”) It was pretty cool, a nice little place and a TON of people showed up. They did two sets of dancing and we watched the second half. A lot of amateurs and students and a lot of them sucked… but that’s not the point of this story. The point is that there were people with all kinds of different body types. People with bodies that look quite a bit like mine. And they danced in front of a crowd, and exposed their whole belly all out there, all jiggling all rhythmically, they were confident and happy. One lady was doing a solo and at one point she was looking at herself in the big mirror that lines one wall. The way she looked at herself and smiled… I … damn. I’ve never felt like that about my body. Not for one single second in my entire life could I have ever looked at myself with that sort of look filled with pure self love and acceptance and happiness.  I think that’s really admirable, and I’m glad it exists for someone at least.

Aaaanyhoo… we didn’t get home until like 11pm and I was just too burnt out to do any work, so instead I drank some rum and took the night off. And some stuff happened. Some stuff that I liked, that helped me feel a little more grounded, a little more myself.  Some stuff that left me feeling pretty sore in a lot of different parts of my body (mostly my upper arm, damn).

Yeah. It’s weird and I’m weird and I’m so fucking tired really now. Like… it’s 1am and I still have a shit ton of work I need to do before I can sleep. I’m gunna be pretty fucked if I don’t get it done… so here we go. Hopefully I can force myself to focus… and maybe, just maybe I’ll be done by the time it’s time for the S.O to wake up for class. heh. ugh. yeah. blugh. yeah. whatever. yeah. yea. ye. y.