My Little Nest

( You are about to view content that may not be appropriate for minors. )

It's been ages since I updated, I know. It's been all over. hecticity came to visit, and I'm getting ready to be in a friend's wedding, which I don't think will make it that far, but...

I'm going to be going to a poetry slam next week and reading, and April 19-26th I'll be going to see Adam Pascal in concert. Sounds like everything's been fantastic, right?

Yeah, i wish. Nothing's been wrong per se, I just had a major crash, so I'm probably seeing this as far more dark than I should, but a lot of stuff just seems to be going to smash. Granny's becoming neurotic about my weight and pressuring me to get this for the wedding so all of my "lumps and rolls" don't show.

And of course, mid-crash I binged today...and now I really want to relapse. My stupid logic definitely is not helping, since you need to be under a certain BMI to be considered anorectic, and most of the physical symptoms I don't have. (The absence of at least three consecutive menstrual cycles, body weight below 85% of what is expected.) and otherwise, according to most doctors (at least around here) it's a phase. And St. Catherine of Siena was sainted because she refused to eat, it was taken to be religious at the time.

Bad idea, really bad idea, but really incredibly tempting. I am also stressing over the fact that I can't find my Neon Ballroom CD, because one can only listen to 4st. 7lb. so many times on repeat (thank Circe for Youtube). I know, bad bad bad.... Wasted is sitting on my dresser. I haven't touched it yet, but I really haven't stopped thinking about reading it again. Even a really long nap didn't help.

I so suck.

Being ED-NOS sucks. MAkign people worry about you sucks, because then you feel all guilty. Not having insurance that will cover therapy, and too scared too suggest it otherwise? REALLY REALLY sucks. Stupid major medical.

Okay, shutting up now.

Yay! I found the Youtube vid! *shares*

Her mind is Tiffany-twisted,
She got a Mercedes-Benz
She got a lot of pretty pretty boys
She calls friends

So, I had my driving evaluation today. Not brill, but not abysmal. apparently my depth perception is far from perfect, but I'm very visually oriented. The examiner was shocked that I don't really draw. Apparently he's intrigued that he cannot really put me in a category.

Like I haven't heard that before. Anyway, he thinks I should definitely have at least a few lessons. So, maybe I will drive after all.

Mirrors on the ceiling,
Pink champagne on ice,
And she said,
"We are all just prisoners here,
Of our own device"

Meds have...changed and now I've gained weight, not helped by the holiday foods (and meads and wine) around. The funny thing is, I thought I was starting to really not care as much. I hadn't read the ED bible in two months, I bought new clothes, I stopped checking to make sure my diet pills hadn't disappeared, and I hadn't listened to my inspiration playlist or added quotes to my book recently.

Ha, what a joke. I actually had myself fooled for a bit.

You can check out any time you like,
But you can never leave.

On a slightly better not, I am absolutely loving www.lastfm.com. It's a musical social network thingy with friends and album cover collages and wicked things like that. I suggest everyone join and friend me. (bad_ailuros) Of course, probably no one will, but oh well.

Edit: My hippo has corrected me. The proper URL is www.last.fm so go join, people!

So, yay for computer lab time.

Boo for no scales that patients are allowed to use. Add to this that when I got processed they weighed me backwards! I can't handle this...I'm going mental--how am I supposed to know if my already excessive self is even more excessive.

I never did find my monkey. Zarathustra is still missing.

And the great long spaces of absolutely nothing to do are already getting to me--and I have been using my usual way. I think my nurses are starting to know the lyrics to some of my songs like Mary Mac, No Nay Never, and Johnny Jump Up simply due to my repetatie singing to break the evil silence. Thanks everybody for the comments! Please keep commenting so I have thing to read!

My life is a fucking roller coaster I swear. One day its up and the next its in the pits, and waving to all the nice fishys on the way down.

*headdesk*

I am in so much sodding trouble at the moment. A certain family member walked into my nice dungeon bedroom (without knocking) while I was on the phone with a friend, and before I realised she was there I said something along the lines of 'committing the cardinal sin of consumption.' Of course, she runs back upstairs to get me in trouble.

Yeah... I'm feeling just a bit homicidal at the moment toward her. And this was after a great weekend of Renn Faire and truck shopping. So I was banned from the computer for a bit.

What the bloody hell? This is fair? In what world do I get punished for being honest while my darling cousin gets congratulated for barging into my room without knocking? Y'know what? Sod it. I'm tired of relapsing while I'm fighting years of habits.

And soon? Medical tests. Loads of them. Shiny needles and lotsa wires and machines that beep more annoyingly than an alarm clock.

So just to try to improve my mood I present a music meme stolen from sailormewmew, teknoboy, and princessstarr

( Life in Music )

For a rather normal day I have learned some things.

01. If you get thrown off of a horse and hurt your wrist it's probably a good idea to leave the ACE bandage on after only one day.

02. If your one of Ana or Coe's girls, or a freak who has been both, recovery sucks
**02.1 Also, your insurance premuim will increase because obviously you're certifiable.
**02.2 You will also be labelled some weird amalgamation known as ED-NOS for life, because you don't fit in any nice little pigeonholes.
**02.3 Recovery makes you very sleepy

03. Dehydration headaches are not pleasant things. I had known this before, but somehow I had quite forgotten.

04. Buzz can pick me up and take me to the Covenstead without me suggesting such a thing.

05. One hr. game trials are not long enough.

06. RPGs like N_N can be addicting and keep you from writing other stories you've been planning for months.

Now, I'm not stupid, I realise I talk a lot and very fast, but it seems like my family never catches anything of importance I say and yet manages to remember the idiotic stupid little things that I forget. Why is this? It's incredibly annoying. And of course they blame me for it, as if I was deliberately withholding information.

Uh...no. Seriously, if I was going to withhold information it would be something along the lines of "I bought this really wicked boline today, I think I'll go use the annoying next door neighbors as target practise." Not, "Yeah I'm going over to Krys's house tommorow." I mean, common sense much?

And another thing, I realise it's one of the few times my immediate family gets together, but why do we have to discuss everything at the dinner table? Someone's day is one thing, the garden is one thing, but the mysterious creature that keeps eating rabbits and leaving parts over Da's back yard? Uh, thank you no.

And as always, when there is food there is the discussion about my weight. This, of course, just makes my night. I cannot help it that I've always been weird about food. I can't help it that the biggest sin in my mind is that of consumption, and I can't erase my childhood COE. I'm sorry it just doesn't work that way. But they have no right to look at me and tell me just how bloody easy it would be for me to lose weight if I just ate right Morrighan knows I've tried but it's nigh impossible, and even if I did, with my fucked up metabolism I'd probably plateau after losing three pounds, if that.

They don't know what that mirror-covered hell is like. What it's like to hear your footstep and cringe at the implication of weight, to look in every reflective surface, criticising yourself because there's just too much of you, to look at a knife and wonder if you could hack off flesh and not die from severe loss of blood, screw scarring, to want to be thin so badly that you'd rather be thin and die at twenty-five then be normal weight and live to fifty or beyond. (Of course, I won't make it to fifty, but y'know what I mean.)

Family...sometimes I wonder why we just don't spontaneously generate. It'd be a hell of a lot less stress.

My phone bill is sadly really really bad this month. And not just my cell phone, oh no, at home too. Apparently everyone in my life that resides overseas has thought up a reason to call me. This is not helping my 'I-want-to-travel-damn-it-itis' I'm this close to killing the next overseas person who rings me by wrapping a cord around their throat, tying it to a willow tree and dropping them.

Well that helped. i swear if I think up punishments and/or ways of homicide it makes me feel better.

I gave into the grandmother and have gone on her diet that she found. I am bloody amazed she agreed to use it! When I first read about it I thought this is way to much sodding food, but in fact, its not. It's very high carb, low fat, and extremely calorie restrictive. It's really a perfect ED diet, because who can argue with being able to get away from the table after a piece of toast as opposed to homemade food extravaganza Granny has daily.
That said? I've managed to gain weight! Granny says "Just don't get on the scale."

Yeah. Right. Like that's possible. I've weighed myself 3 times a day, average, for the past five years. And she says 'just don't step on the scale' How is that bloody possible when you put so much of your self-worth on those little numbers? Its not. Of course, this has thrown me even more back into the mirror-covered hell that is ED-NOS. I was staring at the Stackers in Wal-Mart for a good 2 minutes, knowing she'd never let me take them. She's all gung-ho about every other pill, vitamin, quick-fix, if it means no doctors, but you say 'diet pill' and she hits the roof. Sod that. I'm eighteen now. What she doesn't know won't kill her. I'm sick of my body.

On another topic, I posted a new story on Fanfiction.net, I wrote it for a challenge here on LJ, but it spun out into something I really liked.

I played paintball today, and my leg guard got hit so badly it left a bit of a scratch and a medium sized bruise on my leg. That was wicked.

When I got back from paintball, washed my hair, my grandmother calls. the one kid she still watches is there and she came in the door asking for me. I swear I have a groupie. And she's worse then my cousins who just hang around because, well, I'm heiress. Mo, this one tries to talk like me, sit next to (almost on top of me) at all times. She asked her mum for a collar like mine and according to both her mum and grandmother has talked about nothing but me since a week ago. Eh... when will people figure out that I'm not the best of influences?

Buzz showed me an article in the paper a few weeks ago about how a man killed and dismembered his brother with an electric saw and drove over four counties dropping pieces all around. Now it's 10:00am and I've woken up like 20 mins before this, so the sensible part of my brain that usually censors what I say vs. what i think isn't awake yet.
Me: Cool. Though he should've burned the fingerprints off first, and a saw's a little cliche.
Grandmother: How can you say something like that? It's a tragedy! A man's dead!
Me: Heh, Yeah, right, of course. Stupid me.
Buzz: Y'know you shouldn't tell people things like that. Keep your opinion to yourself.
Me: You showed it to me. You wanted my reaction. A guy's dead. So are lots of others. It doesn't effect me. I didn't know him, he isn't someone I care about or hate. He's a statistic.
This is why we shouldn't talk to me before I fully wake up. Bad idea unless you want Calypso: Uncensored. Circe, that sounded like a Pay-Per-View show. Oh well. Give me $5.35 or however much Pay-Per-View costs and I'll give you my opinions dark and morbid as they may be.

As promised, an actual update. Well, I really haven't been doing all that much--lugging shite back from college, catching up on sleep, watching DVDs amd trying to figure out what the bloody hell I'm going do with myself for a year.

Jobs are few and far between in ickle amish country town and ones I can walk too even less so. I'm trying to see what I need to do to legally be able to ride Buzz's moped around, because everyone I know realises I can't drive, but I love motorcycles. *goes off in a daydream for a moment* Yeah, anyway, that might help me with the getting places, but I do and don't want to be here all year.

I mean...I love my family, and I love being home...but d'you ever feel like your going stagnant? I don't know, maybe my mind's running away w/ possibilities. I swear I'm going through UK withdrawl...if I'm not a puddle of goo by the time Sept. rolls around I'll be shocked. There's nothing to do here. No Hoxton, No SoHo, no Chelsea. I dreamed I was at the Manor in N. Berwick the other night...*le sigh*

Finals were horrid. I don't know why everything had to crash around my ears this year. Any other year I could've had at least a 3.0, but no... the Norns have to screw with me this year. iF it wasn't people dying, it was my health going down the tubes.

Oh, and you want to hear something funny? My grandmother has decided I weigh too much, and I haven't been eating properly. Eight years of compulsive overeating and two of ED-NOS and now she takes it upon herself to notice my weight? She's been pestering me about it for three days and I'm close to losing my temper and blowing up. Not a comment when I was close to 20 stone and I started getting stretch marks. No...now when I'm going through the rest of the shite life has handed me on a silver charger right now.
And you can't point this out to her because she'll just deny that I was ever that heavy.

Ah, yes, yes I was. Trust the chick who weighed herself on average three times a day for the past twelve years. I may have had a bit of relapse during stress but it had been a lot worse. And i swear if she tells me all I have to do is eat normally one more time I'm going to scream. I can't eat normally. I've always been weird about food and she knows it.

Of course, I cannot scream at her because I'm me and I was raised to understand the lines of power in hereditary families, I was taught to recognise and honour those over me and be constantly respectful of the matriarch. I know my place. *le sigh.* This is why I'm such a bitch to other people and fight against stereotypes and roles--because I must obey them in my family and it gets absobloodylutely annoying.

Well, I didn't journal on Fri. like I said I would so...oops. Well, I drove home w/ April, Missa and Shelley, which was interesting. It was far too quiet for my liking, so I pulled out probably the last book I should've, my highlighted, dog-eared, warped copy of the ED Bible...aka...Marya Hornbacher's Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia & Bulimia. So I'm back in uber-small-town until Tues. & absolutely thrilled about it--even if I did end up going to church Fri. & today. Spent most of the day (after church) at the covenstead watching movies with Granny and MythBusters with Da.
Latest News:
Bad News: Didn't get to go to the gun range w/ Da :(
Good News: I had to take in 3 skirts
Great News: I won the auction for the gorgeous Durmstrang Institute bag on eBay. *Evil fangirl squee*

Warning: Disturbing subject matter within--Proceed w/ caution.


I'm going home today and I'm v. glad. I need to get away from here--to think. I saw the headshrinker yesterday--he agrees with Elaine,he thinks I may be bipolar and wants me to see the psychiatrist and get medication. I can't take seratonin inhibitors and the idea of lithium is not a pleasant one. I still want to be me at the end of the day, you know?

Natasha's been put on constant bedrest by the midwife and it's driving both of them nutters. Poor Natasha, she despises staying still, let alone in bed. Reporter girls need to be out doing things, and running a million miles a minute. Aunt Stella's been sticking really close to her--she knows what yhis is like, she was put on bedrest w/ Dee and w/ the last set of twins.

I saw Jekyll and Hyde last night, and while it wasn't what I expected it was something I needed. It helped me to understand things that are going on. Life is fluid, there are connections that shouldn't be made that are (Mansfield/Jack the Ripper) and sometimes people you know are the next victims (Kate Eddowes).

Giomannach would be so mad at me right n ow. Knowing him, he'd bop me upside the head and say that I need to get ahold of myself, but Giomannach is dead and there are things he never understood. Life is a battlefield and emotion is weakness. The power of intimidation is a necessity to control a situation, let alone one's destiny. Sweet Eris, though, I miss him, even if he was an impulsive, self-righteous git.

I went through the Tunnel of Oppression last night, and it was moving. When you entered they yelled slurs at you and I was surprised--Scribe called me a whore, but it's all a role. Cole had a monologue about 'did it matter' in the GLBT section and it made me realise again that the peoplpe you're closest to are the betrayals that injure the most. The ED one was a skinny dude refusing food from his friends, who then pressured him to eat. I was correcting it in my head. Most people do that, skip meals, there's a whole other Underworld filled with funhouse mirrors that draws people in and refuses to let them go. It's waking up in the morning and knowing that you're still excess, you still feel the imposition of your weight on space. You're entirely too much, and nothing does any good because unlike that ideal of you that hisses at you at every turn you need! After all, needing anything makes that thing your weakness. Before you actually went into the tunnel, they had posters and things to look at--the one on EDs asked if you skipped at least 1 meal a day and weighed yourself at least once. That was funny. On Ana sites it's 3 times a day, nude, because clothes add weight.

I slipped up last night, had a bit of a lapse, but I was stressed, upset, and my sodding brain wouldn't shut up. I fel like I couldn't escape and so I cut. It didn't bleed much, but it didn't have to, this while there's SI info hanging in the loos and 1 March bein SI Awareness Day. All that, and I lapsed. C'est la vie, I suppose.

Mailkum hucoremilut kithic mealla en aingeal sealgair; resiremen kolimester cauirlerm maisetrern serestre miceura, maliem foreif gael mayean ossiciouf, cayauste reinca beliamerean--Faite Giommanach.

I don't know anything anymore. I'm not good enough at anything save my workings. I'm on academic probation and I can't afford to fail out, but I feel as if I am. If I fail out what can I do? I can't work a blue-collar job and I couldn't survive in a corporate desk job. Even if I manage to graduate, what does one do with a B.A. in English? I couldn't teach and any other majpr I find even slightly interesting poses the same problems.

The only thing I am ever extraordinary at is my workings and as a full-time job, well the pay is horrid, unless you indulge in some illegalities. What am I doing here? What good will college do me? It's like high school all over again--not at all like I pictured it. I pictured intelligent debate over important issues, not the Gideons handing out pocket testaments and people being closeminded gits. I know not ev eryone is, but still.

I've been trying to be the good student, the good girl, the careful, thoughtful one and that could just go to smash right now, because I'm sick of it. I've been passive thus far because this is new territory, even in 2nd semestre college is still new. I wasn't sure if I was still la ophidia regina, and sure enough, some things haven't changed. I can still get around wards and break with the best (or worst) of my clanmates. I'm sick of this. I'm sick of trying my best and being mediocre at everything I do, save that. I knew that before coming here, and it's not helping me here.

Do I even belong oin college? Where can I go after this? My mind is racing and it won't shut up. If I flunk out I have no future--you need a college degree to be mobile nowadays--unless I move to a big city like London with a small nest egg and live he starving artist life--trying to sell writings to anyone and living hand to mouth. While there is an appeal to that, I'll admit, I'm not well-suited for that life. I like pretty things far too much.

I made an appointment at the counseling centre--and I thoroughly despise those questionaires. What do you mean do I have the urge to hurt myself? What do you mean do I have trouble concentrating? Like right now? Ever? Like in the past? Like when I feel like I'm breaking? So I just checked 'Unsure' for half of their questions. Do I have body issues? Stupid question. I know that. I think those questionnaires are made to make you look like you're completely, undeniably mental. I swear, if someone asks me what my goals are I'll scream.

Goals? How about not feeling like a total mental case, how about not looking in a mirror and seeing myself as taking up too much damn space. How about not feeling like I'm almost totally worthless; that I have to live up to that ideal of me in my head?
All right, enough ranting; I have class.