Wednesday, June 23, 2010

past tense

I have been making a concerted effort to work out lately. By "work out," I mean I jog/run on a treadmill for 35 minutes, but it's something. It's a start. Already, I've built up my distance and calories burned over 4 trips. I'm up a full mile (to 2.5) from my first trip and I was able to do a full out run for two 5 minute periods. That may not seem like a big deal, but I generally feel like I'm going to die when I try to run, so this is a massive improvement. Eventually, I'd like to try the weights, but the treadmill is working for me.

Beyond the obvious benefits, I've begun to notice other little changes. My skin looks brighter. I sleep better on the nights I go to the gym. But, best of all, I've noticed I've stopped craving sugar as much. Of course, this probably has something to do with my medicine, but today I went a full day without one piece of candy. Yesterday, I had one mini-Hershey bar. There is a huge bag of candy in my office (for the drs. I work for...I've tried to move it out of my office, only to be met with a barrage of complaints) and generally I crave it to the point of distraction. Today I administered my shot, had a sweet potato and date muffin with some almond butter, two "skinny" iced coffees and some broccoli and mashed potatoes. I ate a brownie just now, not because I wanted one but because I baked them over the weekend and there's still half a pan left and I hate waste. I didn't realize how much I craved sugar until I stopped wanting it. I'm sure this also has a lot to do with the above mentioned gym benefits.

I've also started keeping a graph of my weight, after being inspired by Making It Lovely. I've marked various goals for myself and I'm hoping to eventually lose 30 pounds (I mean, I'd love to lose 50, but 30 seems more attainable right now) with diet, exercise and tracking.

Mostly, I'm pretty proud of myself for trying to stick to a regimen, instead of falling back on the roots of eating disorder. I'm not sure I've convinced myself that I can do it, but I have convinced myself to quit self-sabotaging and give it a fair chance. So far, I've lost two pounds.

Saturday, June 19, 2010

"the end must be drawin near"

I feel like I'm just having myself a quiet little nervous breakdown.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

"somebody more like myself"

Today, I was running some errands for work and I stopped into a uniform shop to order some labcoats for the doctors. While I was there, Jewel's "Down So Long" came on the radio. I had such a visceral reaction that the saleslady actually had to reach across the counter and grab my arm, saying "Hey! This the right monogram?"

It wasn't so much the song itself as hearing Jewel's voice. I'd sort of tuned her out after "0304" came out, but in doing so, I also shied away from a part of my coming of age that Jewel was apart of. It's sort of strange, thinking back on it, because I doubt I would have ever said Jewel was one of my favorite artists. But I spent countless hours of my teenage years listening to "Pieces of You" and "Spirit." My first car (not counting my mom's car that I totaled--not my fault!),a beat up 1990 Mazda MX6, only had a cassette player--the radio didn't work--and I played "Pieces of You" so many times that the tape broke (leaving me with Alice in Chains "Dirt", The Traveling Wilburys "Volume 1" and Eric Clapton's "Greatest Hits"). I remember lying on my bedroom floor, reading the poems in the liner notes of that CD and trying to write my own similar ones, because Jewel was my first introduction to free verse and I loved the freedom of it. The story of Jewel living in a van when she was a teenager resonated with a kid who badly wanted some assurance that shitty circumstances could lead to good things and that independence was achievable and worth fighting for.

I think there's this sense of constant struggling in her lyrics, whether it's with the falseness of the world around us or drugs or lost love or with self-identity...and I think that personified a lot of my emotions through those years (and hell, even now) in a way that other artists I listened to at the time didn't. She was something of a gateway to other artists I could relate to in that sense, especially that other well known poetry writing folkster, Ani DiFranco.

It's a little embarrassing to devote an entire entry to my teenage love of Jewel, but I can't shake that feeling of nostalgia. When I got home, I downloaded "Down So Long," along with a couple of other Jewel songs and I've been listening to them on repeat. They still evoke a kind of confused determination that I find very comforting right now.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010


The payback for going back on my meds (on a full time basis) is some deja vu-lite experience of "that one time I threw up almost every meal for two months." This time it's almost every OTHER meal. Progress?

Monday, June 14, 2010

salient salinger

Earlier, I finished reading some Salinger ("Franny and Zooey"), which got me to thinking about his unpublished works; particularly, "The Ocean Full of Bowling Balls" and how I would travel to Princeton for the sole purpose of reading that story. (I like run-ons.)

I decided to do some Googling on the topic and came across a Facebook group dedicated to this idea.. I was, a little oddly, disappointed, as now I imagine the whole experience being some sort of excited, rushed line. That said, I'm still thinking about a reason to travel to New Jersey.

Saturday, June 12, 2010

not much

Whit: so what's up?
Mandi: not much
Whit: psh
Mandi: doing some light furniture shopping for my new apartment
dining room table
(i want it.)
this too: kitchen cart
and working on doing this: spice rack revitalization
and thinking about growing heirloom tomatoes: HILLBILLY POTATO LEAF
I don't know why I said "not much" was up
apparently, I am pretty occupied
Whit: hahaha

Friday, June 11, 2010


Last night, I went out with one friend I haven't seen in a long time and another who I haven't seen in even longer. We ended up back at the apartment that I'm half ass (could half ass be a hyphenate? Half-ass? Doesn't look correct.) occupying, already tipsy. We kept drinking and decided to go for a walk, which brought us to Red Star on karaoke night.

The night was going along nicely and I was really happy until, suddenly, I wasn't. Thinking back on it, I think it happened when a guy hit on me. This guy has hit on me before at Red Star (though I don't think he remembered me): My friends had left and I was finishing up my drink and decided to do some reading, when he approached and asked, "are you really reading a book? I'm not real big on books!" Suffice to say, I wasn't impressed.

So anyway, I'm dancing to someone singing a The Who song, when this guy grabs me and twirls me around. I kept twirling and he stopped me and said "you're so beautiful. Can I talk to you outside?" He grabbed my hand and I'm terrible at saying no, I'm shooting eyes at my friend, who grinned at me like this was a good thing. We walk outside and he takes my hand. I blurt out, "I'm seeing someone." The guy was pretty drunk or pretty mellow; he smiled and I walked back in. But there was just this horrible moment where I realized how horrified I am of "the scene," of dealing with guys I'm not into, of not truthfully being able to rely on the boyfriend backup. Something more than that too that I don't quite have the words for; a simultaneous desire to be loved and to be alone. I started thinking about all these relationships ending in my life and things changing and I knew I needed to get out of there, so I told my friends I was ready to leave and we started the walk back.

I walked out feeling overwhelmed, nervous almost, between the extreme humidity that left me feeling like I was breathing underwater, the alcohol, the sadness, that I just wanted to run. So, after awhile, I took off, in my dress and sandals, down 9th street, trying to just...get rid of it. I quickly realized Christie was running behind me, that I was probably worrying she and Josh, so I slowed back down to a brisk walk until we got back to the apartment. I'm not some manic pixie dream girl (copyright:, but there's something so escapist about being wildly desperate, uncaring and selfish, running down a street away from people just because you're sad, that I can see where it could be addictive to be that way all the time.

I came home in tears and when Ravi asked what was wrong, I half-screamed at him, "I'm just SAD!" We haven't talked about it since. I feel better today, but off. Like I needed to get all that out yesterday and some of it is still backed up inside of me. Tomorrow, I'm going to New Orleans with my mom to look at my soon-to-be place, thanks to the wonderfully amazing Ann, and to have lunch. My mom has really been this grounding force for me lately. More than ever, I find myself turning to her for friendship and advice. I'm hoping spending some time with her tomorrow will set me back to rights.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

"when she walks down the street/she knows there's people watchin"

I feel a bit paralyzed lately, as though I'm waiting for everything to happen before I can keep moving. It's not quite like being depressed, but more of a deep weariness of dealing with tedious bullshit. I tend to do one of two things when I get stressed: I go into hibernation and "wait it out" (doing only what needs to be done day-to-day)or I get huge bursts of energy and drive to complete things that need to be done. Generally the latter only occurs when I'm very close to a deadline. I'm trying to switch myself out of the former and more into the latter. After all, deadlines ARE looming--they just aren't close enough for panic yet.

In that vein, I've resolved to get back to taking my PCOS meds correctly. I keep straying from the prescribed schedule, either because it doesn't fit into my day or I don't feel like taking them. But I feel much healthier, both physically and mentally, when I take everything on schedule. It's not a solution but it's part of the path to one. When I don't feel like garbage, I get more accomplished.

Part of this lack of momentum comes from the fact that Ravi still has not moved out. We both expected that he'd be out by this time and my desire to spend time with him before he goes usually ends up trumping my desire to do something productive for myself. It's been bad for me, in a way, that he's still here because it skews my emotions about him leaving. I've gone from a kind of steadfast resoluteness to a "one more day, one more day!" frame of mind. People can say what they want about "just take things one day at a time," but that never works for me. I always fuck myself when I try to take it one day at a time, because not seeing results toward a goal really fucks with my frame of reference for what I want and what needs to be done.

Anyhow. Big Sky played their last show this past Saturday, helping me finish one chapter. The show went well up until the cops showing up (for the second time) and, later, someone firing a bottle rocket in the house. I left shortly after.