(I have plans to write things relevant and recent. I have notes on my desk and thoughts in my head. I jotted something down in my journal the other day, aided by my decision to toss the diary I’d started but couldn’t love. Happiness is a spiral binding, at least when it comes to me and my notebooks. Eating disorders are hell. Recovery is also … Continue reading i see you.
Trigger warning: it’s long. Also, it’s possible I’m blunt. I was eleven once upon a time, though it’s far enough in the past to refer to as a lifetime ago. Eleven was an important year in my scheme of things. Much happened. I realized my fat legs were destroying any hope I had for a good life, for one thing. [i] Of lesser import was … Continue reading Sometimes, all you need is a sheet mask and a bath bomb.
The bloganuary post prompts are interesting: they’re designed, in part, to elicit a positive response. Take prompt eight, “what do you like most about your writing.” It’s phrased in the affirmative. You’re supposed to give yourself props. My personal go-to of being negative and critical makes one seem small-minded and surly. (I feel I should apologize for any imperfections (I’m regularly perfect, of course): this … Continue reading I’m hilarious: what I like about my writing.
The fridge is bursting. There’s too much food in the house. Definitely a problem of privilege. I’m aware of that, yet my problems are my problems, real and difficult for me; other people’s different problems don’t negate my reality. I’ve had this issue before. I don’t do it to myself – I’m careful about the quantities I maintain – so the stress-inducing over-capacity isn’t my … Continue reading The fridge is bursting.
From Famine to Feast 