I've been unwell for three weeks. I started seeing someone three weeks ago.
Why do the two coincide?
I went to the doctor's a week ago. She told me I had a virus. Of course, there was nothing I could do about that. I refuse to take medication. I merely hate the idea of taking powdered balls to chemically alter my body. Don't we breathe in enough chemicals? Don't we induce enough chemicals into our foods? I can't stand it. Pills, and medication to feel better. How has this become such an accepted way to our society? What happened to rest? To exercise? To taking care of our precious tool: the body. The abuse we put ourselves through... and then the abuse we blame everyone else for... I can never wrap my head around it.
But it has been three weeks and although my days aren't so bad, my nights, I feel much worse. Coughing up my lungs, struggling to do that simple thing we call breathing. Feeling much like I may die before morning comes. What an awful thought... what an awful feeling.
I told the doctor I've been sick and need something to fix me up because I'm tired of it. He prescribed me medication. Two pills a day that I should probably take with food because it will upset my stomach. In fact, if it happens to upset my stomach so badly, I should probably shift to only one pill a day. Great. The lovely results of medication. I told him I needed birth control too. He passed it out as if it was free candy at a parade. I told him I never had it before. He looked at me blankly. What? So I decide now it's a good idea to be safe, get over it.
I didn't think much of it until I got to the pharmacy. I handed in my prescription and shopped around for twenty minutes. Finished. Grabbed myself a magazine to read why Katie wanted things to end with Tom. I can't believe it took three years for that headline to make the page. My beeper buzzed, and like Pavlov's dog, I responded accordingly, wandering over to receive my scripts. I waited a minute for the pharmacist to have a chat with me about my prescriptions. She repeated the upset stomach side effects; eating food when taking the meds; making sure it's at the same time of the day; repeating for ten days. Then she sent me off. I didn't go anywhere. I looked at her and asked, "what about the other one?"
She gave me that same look, "Oh, this is your first time with this one as well?"
Why is that such a big surprise to everyone? Do I look like a whore? Clearly not. I figured it's probably a good idea to be smart about these things, especially since I am an expecting aunt to a child who was a mistake. Poor kid. Perhaps, we're all mistakes and our parents just make us believe we were wanted and planned....
So here I was, standing at the counter hearing all the things I heard before about birth control.
Be sure to take it everyday at the same time.
If you miss a day, don't double up.
For the first three months, use another form of protection.
It will take the three months to regulate your body.
Are you regular already? No. Pregnancy scares all the time.
This may in fact regulate your periods then.
The end week are sugar pills. You can take them in order to develop the habit of taking pills every day, but if you don't, remember to start your pills again the following week.
Start on Sunday.
Oh God. Pills to robot my body into regulation and prevent the gift of life? Just to have sex?
Welp, seems worth it.
Why doesn't it feel right though? Why do I struggle to take man-made medications- that of vitamins, cough syrup, sore throat, birth control...? I just cannot fathom using chemicals to voluntarily pollute my body more than it already is. Is it because I've been reading too many science fiction stories for my topics in literature course!? That can't be it. I felt strongly about pills long before that course. A pill everyday? Don't skip, don't double up, don't rely one hundred per cent... oh fuck, don't tell me what to do! But then what... get pregnant? Don't have sex? Are either of those even an option!? Is staying sick an option?
Maybe I need to change cultures. Go somewhere you can pop kids out as they come. Somewhere we eat natural foods. That place where the sky is blue and the grass is green, the air is fresh, and chemicals just simply do not exist. The place love can be expressed safely and freely and people are healthy and do what they want to do, anytime of the day.
Maybe I should just go write my paper on culture....
Tuesday April 22 2008. earth day... wish it was as clean as my dreams.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Thursday, April 10, 2008
the fear of love
So I stare at love straight in the face.
The love I crave and write endless words about. The love that comes from fairy tales and storybooks. The prince to sweep you off your feet and carry you away on a horse carriage kind of love. The love that scares the living shit right out of you. That kind of love.
I stare at it. Blankly. I know the feeling of vulnerability; of warmth; of pure fulfillment of emotion. The sort of feeling you always dream to have. But this time, my biggest fear is not the love... it is the dream.
See in love it can so easily make us blind. All you see are the bright lights and all you feel are those crazy warm fuzzies inside. You forget the time, where you're going and sometimes even who you are. It all just goes blank because somehow in love... it doesn't seem to matter anymore. And it is that which scares me most.
The dream is not the dream of love; but the dream of dreams I plan to conquer. How do my dreams fit into love? When you begin a journey with someone, it becomes a path of two- but who's way do you decide to take? See, I'm stubborn. I've got some big dreams to live out. I've got a heart of love waiting to pour. I've got many grounds to walk along. I thought I was ready for love; I feel I am ready for love. However, I am not ready to give up my dreams- they are the only thing I've always had. I am a person to dream big; to do big things. Love should simply accompany that; not get in the way of it.
Yet, here I am, hesitating...again. I feel like I lied to myself, thinking I was ready to open my heart with someone. I can feel that wall is slowly creeping up again. I thought for sure I was ready this time. In this hesitation, I know I am ready, but I cannot let myself change, because I know how easily that can happen... how easily we lose ourselves to love and I am not willing to lose myself to anything; even that love I crave.
I suppose in any situation it is fear that creates a challenge for us. If we didn't fear, we would never think first; or feel an accomplishment when we overcome a fear that attempts to stop us from doing something. So in this love that I crave and incredibly fear; I need to know my dreams will be safe. It has never seemed more important than it does right now. They have never felt so threatened.
Funny how this person is the one to have said, "you need to protect your dreams" ...maybe that's why I love him.
written April 11, 2008 1:02 am
The love I crave and write endless words about. The love that comes from fairy tales and storybooks. The prince to sweep you off your feet and carry you away on a horse carriage kind of love. The love that scares the living shit right out of you. That kind of love.
I stare at it. Blankly. I know the feeling of vulnerability; of warmth; of pure fulfillment of emotion. The sort of feeling you always dream to have. But this time, my biggest fear is not the love... it is the dream.
See in love it can so easily make us blind. All you see are the bright lights and all you feel are those crazy warm fuzzies inside. You forget the time, where you're going and sometimes even who you are. It all just goes blank because somehow in love... it doesn't seem to matter anymore. And it is that which scares me most.
The dream is not the dream of love; but the dream of dreams I plan to conquer. How do my dreams fit into love? When you begin a journey with someone, it becomes a path of two- but who's way do you decide to take? See, I'm stubborn. I've got some big dreams to live out. I've got a heart of love waiting to pour. I've got many grounds to walk along. I thought I was ready for love; I feel I am ready for love. However, I am not ready to give up my dreams- they are the only thing I've always had. I am a person to dream big; to do big things. Love should simply accompany that; not get in the way of it.
Yet, here I am, hesitating...again. I feel like I lied to myself, thinking I was ready to open my heart with someone. I can feel that wall is slowly creeping up again. I thought for sure I was ready this time. In this hesitation, I know I am ready, but I cannot let myself change, because I know how easily that can happen... how easily we lose ourselves to love and I am not willing to lose myself to anything; even that love I crave.
I suppose in any situation it is fear that creates a challenge for us. If we didn't fear, we would never think first; or feel an accomplishment when we overcome a fear that attempts to stop us from doing something. So in this love that I crave and incredibly fear; I need to know my dreams will be safe. It has never seemed more important than it does right now. They have never felt so threatened.
Funny how this person is the one to have said, "you need to protect your dreams" ...maybe that's why I love him.
written April 11, 2008 1:02 am
Saturday, April 5, 2008
on being naked
Naked. Nothing on: no clothes; no shoes; no necklace; no ring; and no, not even socks. Naked. Revealing what I cover. I cover with clothing, with a style I create as my image; the image I choose for you to see. Just an image. The person I choose you to see; maybe not quite the person I really am. No. Not the person I am.
Naked. Revealing who I am.
To love who you are. I look in the mirror, looking myself in the eye; looking deep and seeing the person underneath, whom I protect. To love that person.
Naked. Unable to look that person in the eye; only looking at the flaws that cover the person. The body that is far from meeting perfect. The body I determine as the person I am. I hate it.
Love the body. The body is our greatest tool; the tool we use to do; to create and to be. Protect the body; care and love the body.
I crave a cigarette. Somehow the mental state worships it; the body disintegrates. I pollute my lungs; I pollute my blood stream. The inhale passes through my entire body, loosening the tight areas, releasing with exhale into the air and out... away forever. My body builds tar inside for a five minute break to take time to inhale and exhale, outside in 'fresh' air, perhaps with a friend to chat with. Can I just take that five minutes, please? All I really need is the time to breathe, to inhale the air that captures my inner toxins and releases them outside of the body; the body I need to protect.
I eat. I feel guity. I hate what my body looks like because I eat. So I eat more and more and more. Then I don't eat at all. I skip meals and think my body will look better. If I look better, I'll feel better. I only feel worse. I torture my body- suffer in hunger, I hate you. Eat the stored fats and allow me to disintegrate. Again. Instead, it holds onto the fats because I deprive it of proper nutrients. It shuffles to hold onto whatever it possibly can, for I hold back from nurturing my body; from loving my body. Is this not the only way? I need to fit in the clothes I cover who I really am with- to be an image you can approve of. I want to reach your expectations. Then I will love my body too... when you do.
I cut. Frustration, pain, hate, anger- mere emotion- it builds and builds and builds and I have no idea how to control it anymore. I want to scream, I want to cry... sometimes I just want to die. Oh... but I don't want to die. Frustration and pain and anger and hate and love and missing love and tears that won't stop... I cut. It releases and no longer do I struggle to control it. It stings and it hurts. I bleed. And then I am still crying... and I scar my body. I hide what I did to myself; bury it under clothes you can determine as who I am. I hide it with a smile; with success; with money; with so many things to do that I even hide it from myself. Yet; when I am naked... I know. I hurt my body.
I do nothing. I am a useless piece of skin, that sits while the days pass by... one after another. I sit in the stands and watch others play the game. I tell them what they should be doing and how they should do it. They barely ever do it the right way. I could do it better- with my eyes closed. I feel heavy; low to the ground, tired. I sleep. My eyes are closed most of my life; my blinks are slow and heavy. My skin is dry. I don't even care anyway. My body disintegrates. Again.
Stupid. Ugly. Useless.
Fat. Lazy. Dense.
Revolting. Idiot. Gross.
I fill my mind. I believe it.
Don't judge me. I am my worst judge; you can't compete.
Naked. I can't bare to stay here. I cover myself. It becomes such a ritual, I believe I am who you see. I create my world as that image and you treat me as that image. The image I choose. A failure or a scholar. A bitch or a sweetheart. Busy or has time to listen. An ememy... or a friend. Why do I choose this one?
I ask myself.
And I constantly keep asking because I am not the person I let people see. I wish they did see, because when I stare in my eyes in my reflection I know I am pretty fucking amazing. I wish they knew that. Be naked. Be true- but not to others, to myself.
And love my body; it is my greatest tool. I am stronger than I think I am. Challenge my body, it needs to grow. Nurture my body, it needs to be strong. Breathe. Take time to think, don't allow myself to pollute who I am. I am the only one to see me naked; I won't allow anyone else see until I am happy with my reflection- with the person I am, not the person I pretend to be.
Be naked.
written april 5, 2008.
Naked. Revealing who I am.
To love who you are. I look in the mirror, looking myself in the eye; looking deep and seeing the person underneath, whom I protect. To love that person.
Naked. Unable to look that person in the eye; only looking at the flaws that cover the person. The body that is far from meeting perfect. The body I determine as the person I am. I hate it.
Love the body. The body is our greatest tool; the tool we use to do; to create and to be. Protect the body; care and love the body.
I crave a cigarette. Somehow the mental state worships it; the body disintegrates. I pollute my lungs; I pollute my blood stream. The inhale passes through my entire body, loosening the tight areas, releasing with exhale into the air and out... away forever. My body builds tar inside for a five minute break to take time to inhale and exhale, outside in 'fresh' air, perhaps with a friend to chat with. Can I just take that five minutes, please? All I really need is the time to breathe, to inhale the air that captures my inner toxins and releases them outside of the body; the body I need to protect.
I eat. I feel guity. I hate what my body looks like because I eat. So I eat more and more and more. Then I don't eat at all. I skip meals and think my body will look better. If I look better, I'll feel better. I only feel worse. I torture my body- suffer in hunger, I hate you. Eat the stored fats and allow me to disintegrate. Again. Instead, it holds onto the fats because I deprive it of proper nutrients. It shuffles to hold onto whatever it possibly can, for I hold back from nurturing my body; from loving my body. Is this not the only way? I need to fit in the clothes I cover who I really am with- to be an image you can approve of. I want to reach your expectations. Then I will love my body too... when you do.
I cut. Frustration, pain, hate, anger- mere emotion- it builds and builds and builds and I have no idea how to control it anymore. I want to scream, I want to cry... sometimes I just want to die. Oh... but I don't want to die. Frustration and pain and anger and hate and love and missing love and tears that won't stop... I cut. It releases and no longer do I struggle to control it. It stings and it hurts. I bleed. And then I am still crying... and I scar my body. I hide what I did to myself; bury it under clothes you can determine as who I am. I hide it with a smile; with success; with money; with so many things to do that I even hide it from myself. Yet; when I am naked... I know. I hurt my body.
I do nothing. I am a useless piece of skin, that sits while the days pass by... one after another. I sit in the stands and watch others play the game. I tell them what they should be doing and how they should do it. They barely ever do it the right way. I could do it better- with my eyes closed. I feel heavy; low to the ground, tired. I sleep. My eyes are closed most of my life; my blinks are slow and heavy. My skin is dry. I don't even care anyway. My body disintegrates. Again.
Stupid. Ugly. Useless.
Fat. Lazy. Dense.
Revolting. Idiot. Gross.
I fill my mind. I believe it.
Don't judge me. I am my worst judge; you can't compete.
Naked. I can't bare to stay here. I cover myself. It becomes such a ritual, I believe I am who you see. I create my world as that image and you treat me as that image. The image I choose. A failure or a scholar. A bitch or a sweetheart. Busy or has time to listen. An ememy... or a friend. Why do I choose this one?
I ask myself.
And I constantly keep asking because I am not the person I let people see. I wish they did see, because when I stare in my eyes in my reflection I know I am pretty fucking amazing. I wish they knew that. Be naked. Be true- but not to others, to myself.
And love my body; it is my greatest tool. I am stronger than I think I am. Challenge my body, it needs to grow. Nurture my body, it needs to be strong. Breathe. Take time to think, don't allow myself to pollute who I am. I am the only one to see me naked; I won't allow anyone else see until I am happy with my reflection- with the person I am, not the person I pretend to be.
Be naked.
written april 5, 2008.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
the world is mine
The world is my stage
I'm going to perform a show for everyone
The world is my canvas
I'm going to paint an abstract of reality
The world is my frame
I'm going to place in my print
The world is my game
I'm going to battle till the end
The world is my sand
I'm going to leave my footprints
The world is my paper
I'm going to write down my story
The world is my map
I'm going to travel every road
The world is my bed
I'm going to cuddle, while I dream
The world is my bath
I'm going to soak in the salts
The world is my microphone
I'm going to let my voice be heard
The world is my jeep
I'm going to ride it along
The world is my song
I'm going to sing it out loud
The world is mine
I'm going to create it
written April 3, 2008 3:01 am
I'm going to perform a show for everyone
The world is my canvas
I'm going to paint an abstract of reality
The world is my frame
I'm going to place in my print
The world is my game
I'm going to battle till the end
The world is my sand
I'm going to leave my footprints
The world is my paper
I'm going to write down my story
The world is my map
I'm going to travel every road
The world is my bed
I'm going to cuddle, while I dream
The world is my bath
I'm going to soak in the salts
The world is my microphone
I'm going to let my voice be heard
The world is my jeep
I'm going to ride it along
The world is my song
I'm going to sing it out loud
The world is mine
I'm going to create it
written April 3, 2008 3:01 am
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
settling for love
It's the end of the day; nearly the end of the night. I'm too tired to do anymore work; yet not quite tired enough to go to sleep. The only show I seem to sit down and watch is the episode after episode of Friends that I have fallen in love with. I finished my collection of the sitcom at Christmas and I watched each DVD from the beginning to the end, each and every episode until I reached the last one. I've been done for a few weeks now. I miss friends.
I'm not in the mood to sit and allow the television to pollute my brain anymore than it already is. It's that perfect time of night to put on a flick and cuddle with someone.
I play my guitar instead.
When the ex-boyfriend asks to hangout, it seems like a good idea to be friends. But I'm smart enough to know that I tried that. My best friend tells me you can't be friends with your ex's. I'm friends with all of mine, but this last one is a little different. She might be right about this one. A part of me loves the companionship; loves the mere idea of company at the end of the night. But is the love of company worth the settling down with someone you know you should stay clear from... even though he is the only one asking you to hang out- to chat, to laugh, to dance, to watch a flick... to cuddle. It seems harmless.
Things aren't always what they seem.
I suppose it's not him that I am really debating; in fact, I know it's not him I am debating. That has been over for years, and although debated over those years, it's quite evidently over. A nice guy, I can settle with saying- but not for me, to put gently. I do miss companionship and chats and laughs... dances and movies... and I definitely miss the cuddles. My stuffed monkey, George, well, he just doesn't cut it.
We're all looking for someone to love. As much as we want to deny that or claim we don't need someone... it is in our human nature to love, to touch, to feel... to hold. I found true love; a love of life. I surround myself with friends I am most definitely close to and whom I smother with my hugs and kisses. But I miss having that person to wake up next to, to get lost in their eyes and go for long walks; walks more enjoyed when it's raining. To kiss anywhere and everywhere. To fall into intimacy, while falling into love. To see every part of; to touch every part; to reveal every part of myself; to be so vulnerable. To feel so scared and so safe simultaneously. Oh how I miss being in love.
I debate if love is so beautiful you should allow yourself to always be in love. To fall for anyone willing to fall for you. I love being in love. However, I think what makes being in love with someone is not the being in love... it's the someone. I struggled growing up- stopping myself from falling in love with anyone willing to fall in love with me. I knew it was special and I was eager to experience it... but I really don't think it's worth the settle... is it? To settle just to love?
Tonight, I lay in bed. I cuddle close to George and I close my eyes. It feels like tonight I could settle... but instead I fall asleep- alone. Surprisingly, however, I don't feel lonely.
written april 1 2008 12::06- april 2.
I'm not in the mood to sit and allow the television to pollute my brain anymore than it already is. It's that perfect time of night to put on a flick and cuddle with someone.
I play my guitar instead.
When the ex-boyfriend asks to hangout, it seems like a good idea to be friends. But I'm smart enough to know that I tried that. My best friend tells me you can't be friends with your ex's. I'm friends with all of mine, but this last one is a little different. She might be right about this one. A part of me loves the companionship; loves the mere idea of company at the end of the night. But is the love of company worth the settling down with someone you know you should stay clear from... even though he is the only one asking you to hang out- to chat, to laugh, to dance, to watch a flick... to cuddle. It seems harmless.
Things aren't always what they seem.
I suppose it's not him that I am really debating; in fact, I know it's not him I am debating. That has been over for years, and although debated over those years, it's quite evidently over. A nice guy, I can settle with saying- but not for me, to put gently. I do miss companionship and chats and laughs... dances and movies... and I definitely miss the cuddles. My stuffed monkey, George, well, he just doesn't cut it.
We're all looking for someone to love. As much as we want to deny that or claim we don't need someone... it is in our human nature to love, to touch, to feel... to hold. I found true love; a love of life. I surround myself with friends I am most definitely close to and whom I smother with my hugs and kisses. But I miss having that person to wake up next to, to get lost in their eyes and go for long walks; walks more enjoyed when it's raining. To kiss anywhere and everywhere. To fall into intimacy, while falling into love. To see every part of; to touch every part; to reveal every part of myself; to be so vulnerable. To feel so scared and so safe simultaneously. Oh how I miss being in love.
I debate if love is so beautiful you should allow yourself to always be in love. To fall for anyone willing to fall for you. I love being in love. However, I think what makes being in love with someone is not the being in love... it's the someone. I struggled growing up- stopping myself from falling in love with anyone willing to fall in love with me. I knew it was special and I was eager to experience it... but I really don't think it's worth the settle... is it? To settle just to love?
Tonight, I lay in bed. I cuddle close to George and I close my eyes. It feels like tonight I could settle... but instead I fall asleep- alone. Surprisingly, however, I don't feel lonely.
written april 1 2008 12::06- april 2.
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