Reading & Writing

Thursday, June 19th 2008 at 6:06pm


Talking about things that I have read is pretty much silly. That probably sounds like the dumbest thing I ever said since all we can really talk about that is interesting is things we’ve read or heard. If you saw it on TV, it’s probably not half as interesting... What I mean to say is, talking about the things I’ve read on the internet, when you could read them yourself from the original source is silly. I rest my argument about health on the following: Dr. Mark Hyman has thousands of testimonials to his case, as well as being a legitimate doctor who has written somewhere around seven successful books. As I’ve said a zillion times, his advice that I read online caused me to loose thirty pounds, to sleep more soundly, to have more energy, and got rid of a terrible painful chronic burping in combination with stomach aches.

While I stress high fructose corn syrup as the bad guy, the truth is, that there is a very intricate balance to our body which only can be understood through a lot of testing and examining. And Dr. Mark Hyman has done the testing and examining required to “prove” his points. In addition, he’s broken down his experiences in such a way that they’re easy to read on his online blog. He’s founded the Ultra Wellness Foundation and the practices used there work. Yes, for some people sugar is not a relevant issue in their life, but every single one of us has a different chemical make-up and that’s what functional-medicine is all about: finding the root cause for the individual and not just giving them a diagnoses. However, sugar, aspartame and hydrogenated oils do not hold nutritional value for any human being on the planet. Things like pasta and milk I believe can be “bad” or “good” depending on the chemical make-up, diet and lifestyle of the person consuming them, which is why I don’t simply say things like “quit dairy, gluten, grains, and all forms of sugar including cane sugar!” because that is only necessary for some people. Since I’m not qualified to judge which people those are, I repeat, read what Dr. Mark Hyman has to say for yourself.





Jeff,

Having a reading list on your blog is an awesome idea. My list would be MUCH shorter, but nevertheless, I'm considering making one. It's great that you've read so many books, and even better that it's such a good selection. Thanks for stopping by my blog. I hope to see you again. (I didn't check your list too throughly, I just read a few titles. But if you have not read any books by Joan Grant... Well, you should. Out of all the books I've read, none are more astonishing in their creation, and even more amazing in their deep wisdom that is simply lost on the modern world.)

My favorite authors are Joan Grant, Carol Berg and Erica Jong. I've actually not done much vampire reading. The older I get the more I shy away from anything bloody, but then again, Carol Berg writes some very intense combat scenes...

Good luck to your health. Aspartame has caused people brain damage in the past. No kidding. Some people it's not so dramatic in effect and gives "mild" pains. For me, artificial sugars give me serious leg cramps that keep me from sleeping. I once accidentally ate yogurt that had splenda in it every day for a week. One the second day the pain started on got worse every day. I didn't figure out until the yogurt ran out and when the pain stopped completely three days after it had run out. Needless to say, I'm against all sugars unless it naturally milled cane sugar (which should be in moderation) and honey (which should also be in moderation). And I only eat either of the two when I'm using it to make something very healthy tasty too. Like tea or organic granola.

I hope to hear from you again.




Angel writes me:


Hey Atara,


Sorry it took awhile for me to respond but I went to go visit my aunt for awhile. While I was at my aunt’s house, I was telling her all about you. I told her that I really wanted to be able to go visit you and to just meet you. I think you should know that I really love receiving emails from you; it always makes my day better in a hundred small ways. I also feel like you’re my long lost sister. Don’t worry you won’t ever lose me… I have to admit I feel the way you do when it comes to your friend Marie from California. I feel that when we meet, I won’t make a good impression on you then you’ll leave me alone and I’ll be sitting here wondering what I did wrong of if there was anything wrong with me. I hate that thought; I try not to think about it but it’s difficult to push aside… yeah I know what you mean when you say we’re on the same wave length. Every time I read your past entries, it just feels like I’m you when you were younger or something (Of course, I wasn’t as “wild” as you are.) It’s crazy but cool.

While I was at my aunt’s house, I was eating foods that I wouldn’t normally eat like tacos, chocolate cake, ice-cream, chips, gum and slushy drinks. And I swear every time I finished eating, I would get an incurable headache that lasted all throughout the day. Also every morning I would awake with the most painful stomachache ever. I would lie there in bed holding my stomach, on the verge of tears, trying to ignore the physical pain. I’m still eating the foods that I wouldn’t normally eat because I haven’t gone shopping yet and I don’t want to starve myself. So I guess I’m hurting myself by eating these ugly foods because I don’t want to starve. Does that make sense? Here’s a strange fact about me, whenever I get a headache, I’ll go obtain me some type of fruit (mostly apples) and the pain occasionally fades away…..

*sigh*
When I read your most recent entry about My boyfriend’s “two sides” I said to myself, “Wow, that’s how I feel.” I had an emotional breakdown yesterday evening. I was texting my ex and I told him something which got him mad and upset. He responded to me with an accusation of liking his friend and saying that he had to go or whatever and so I told him “Well, I guess this is it.” He immediately replied with “What do you mean this is it?” He continuously kept texting me but I never responded. I just sprawled onto my bed crying… I felt like I lost a friend or something. I laid there drowned in my own tears and at the same time this voice in my head kept saying, “Angel, don’t cry. Wipe your tears, this will all pass by.” I sat up on the bed and thought about it, trying to fight the feeling that I felt. I kept crying but then the voice inside my head said, “Get up and look yourself in the mirror and ask yourself why you’re crying.” So I did just that and it was very strange. I felt like I was two persons trapped inside one body. One side of me wanted to cry; that side of me was recklessly cursing, asking “why” and saying that I hated my ex. The other side of me was calm; that side of me was reassuring myself that this is nothing to cry over and it was also saying, “I don’t hate Darren but I wish I could.” …. I was also nearly screaming to God; saying “God, you’re my life. People say if God is in your life, you won’t feel lonely anymore and your problems will vanish. But I can’t bring myself to believe that right now. God, if you’re in my life then why do I feel so lonely all the time? Why do I feel so misunderstood and confused still? I’m not supposed to be this girl anymore!!!” I sounded all crazy but somehow I managed to take one last glance at myself in the mirror and promise myself not to cry. It was a very traumatic episode……

Ohh and about my ex: I asked him (before I got him mad) if I didn’t give him the second chance, if he would quit speaking with me. He said, he would still talk with me but he’d feel stupid. That made me feel great but after what happened (me saying “this is it”) I don’t think he’d be willing to speak with me and even if he did, it wouldn’t be the same. I know for a fact that he’d act differently and it would be uncomfortable. I’m beginning to believe like everyone else when they say that keeping contact with an ex is simply impossible. I don’t want to be like that though. I want to be his friend. I really do but ….. I don’t know. Most of the time I tell myself that I won’t go back to him because he hasn’t change and other times I tell myself “Just give it another shot. You’re young, it’s not like you’re going to marry the guy.” I guess this would also be another example of my “two sides.” It’s like my logical side is constantly feuding with my reckless side. I’m not reckless but my thoughts are. (If that makes any sense) I like the fact that you pointed out the whole “he may have self-control issues” because I’ve been trying to point that out that but I could never find the right way to explain it. I think that his thoughts have shifted a bit but his actions will remain the same. That’s what I also told him and he said, “Well, I know I changed. I know some things before that I didn’t know.” I asked him what he meant by that and he said that he felt unsure when we were together because he didn’t know if I really liked him and he felt like a mess-around. Honestly, that makes sense to me……..


Thursday, June 19th 2008 at 7:35pm


Angel,

Perhaps we are sisters. Just because we’re not sisters of the flesh doesn’t mean we’re not sisters in spirit, right?

People are all many-sided. I think that’s something we grow to accept more and more starting at puberty. I used to feel like I had about four different parts of myself constantly fighting. For most people I think this is rooted in conflicting wants. This sense of having multiple selves was the most dramatic for me in 2004 when I wrote a short series of “splitpersonality” entries expressing my different points of view as though they were different people.

I had the part of me that was rather slutty, and constantly horny. That part of me was very carefree and very open to drugs and experimentation and loved to party, flirt, have sex, and toy with men. I believe I called her Persilla. Then, there was Layla, the part of me that wanted to be loved, and didn’t want to stray from my morals and wanted to make real friends and to read and indulge in art and reading and self expression. Then there was the very depressed side of me, the cynical part that would claim the entire argument was madness and that sex and love were both temporary, and that life was temporary and that I’d never be satisfied and that life was just a ball of shit. Okay, so that’s only three, not four, but I found that often when I had an “important” decision to make I’d find that I could identify with two to four sides of the argument and wouldn’t know where to turn.

Questioning yourself is healthy in my opinion. Doubting yourself however, is not healthy. Recognizing our inner duality is wise, letting that duality actually tear us into two people or more is insanity, literally. I find that I feel less and less like I have two sides to a point. Generally I can question my own motives until I find my most inner belief that is deeper than my two external thoughts.

For example, you want to hate Darren, but you also want to love Darren, but you also want Darren out of your life, but you also don’t want to have to let him out of your life, am I right? These seem like contradictions, but deep down, you know better. These are not contradictions. You want to hate Darren because you love Darren. You don’t want to love Darren because he’s hurt you and you believe he will continue to hurt you in the future, and for this reason you want him out of your life. But because you love him, you still wish you could keep some sort of contact with him. And as much as it sucks to know and hear, it’s common. I’ve been there, along with many other thousands of people. What isn’t common is being able to make sound judgement on the situation, and I’m not saying I’m one to do so.

I read the “I like you because...” chain-mail letter. It’s cute I suppose. Sort of like buying a card for someone that one thousand other people have already bought and given to someone... I like writing my own personal messages. Not that I object to receiving cards that thousands of others have received, just that I mind sending them myself. I like you because you’re open to new ideas, because I see myself in you, because I believe you have a strong will, a powerful heart and that you’re beautiful on the inside (though I can’t speak for you outside since I never saw it, lol) and I also believe that you’re going to brighten a lot of lives with your spark throughout your lifetime. I like you because you’re willing to give and to get, and so many of us can only do one or the other. I find it’s hard to talk to anybody who can talk and listen just as well.

My Mom knows all that I know about you, and she says she’d love to have you over for a month this summer. A whole freaking month! I said that a month might scare you away, and that your parents would probably never allow it, and that it might be difficult financially for everyone. But I thought I’d let you know that you have her invite for an entire month. I personally think a week is more reasonable for a first visit, and I don’t want us to tread on each other’s toes on our first meeting.

My mother wants to provide you with air-fare and everything, but that’s pie in the sky because she can’t even afford to fix our car at the moment! So, speaking from what I know about our financial limitations, I can say that if you can find the money for air-fare, and enough pocket-change to feel comfortable while you’re here that we’ll pick you up from the air port, provide your meals, your bed, and your entertainment. All you need after that is your parent’s permission.

One last detail is that we plan on going to the SFX convention at the end of August. This is an amazing convention and it takes place in Toronto. Tickets are $50 each, and I think we could afford to take you along (in terms of bed & transportation) for another $50. I don’t know your parent’s financial situation, but if we met prior to then, like perhaps in July, then you might decide you want to return soon for another week or so, and if you could afford $100 extra, then you could come on the last week of August and come to SFX with us. (Us means My boyfriend, me and my mother, my Dad has no preference for going.)

I imagine that you staying here would mean you using my futon, which is perfectly comfortable, since I used to use it as my bed, until I switched the two futons. (One is always up in couch position and the other is always down in bed position. I could simply put the “couch” one down at night for you.) This would mean very little privacy for both of us for the week, which is another reason why I think a week is more reasonable for a first visit since it might be hard to be that personal with me the first time you meet me for such an extended period of time.

If My boyfriend decides to be your friend too (which may be a little difficult because he’s so quiet and distant to people he doesn’t know) then you may find that he’ll offer to pay your way to come with us to SFX and such. But I can’t make that offer in his name, which is another reason why I think you should come down for a week sometime in the near future. I hope we can become like sisters in the flesh sometime soon, and not just in the spirit.

Love,

Phoenix


Friday, June 20th 2008 at 10:15pm


How blessed this day is to not be too hot or too cold. How wonderful it is to have running hot water! How ordinary these two things are, and how completely ignored those things were yesterday. Today however they were overly appreciated, because otherwise I would have suffered much more the monthly torture we so blithely call “cramps” as if that could ever describe the feeling!

Back when I was on birth control I thought it was just awful to have something akin to a stomachache crossed with abdominal cramps and gas pains for several hours every other month. I didn’t know the meaning of “cramps” then, because then the term “cramps” was quite adequate a description of the womanly hardship.

Now I know what I would have gone through the past ten years if I had not been on birth control for eight of them. Cramps are not just in the abdominal region, but also within your thighs, and then your calves, and so deeply rooted in your bowels that you never stop feeling like you have to take a dump. I spent almost two hours on the toilet today with my entire floor-length thick-fuzzy bathroom wadded up on top of my thighs pressed to my stomach, hunched over constantly feeling on the verge of vomiting, with waves of goose-bumps that felt more like needle-pricks which very quickly escalates into a headache from all the contortions I’ve been putting my face in.

It wasn’t long before I decided that “drastic action” was necessary. And by which I mean that I swallowed three calcium tablets (with magnesium and zinc added) and ate a package of rice crisps while hiding under a large pile of blankets... At least from the waist down. From the waist up I’ve actually been rather hot all day, but not as hot as I would have been had it been like on of those days out of last week...

Drastic action was carried from pills and crisps to a very hot bath. This many sound quite ordinary to most anyone, but I actually can’t stand truly hot water on most occasions. I don’t generally like hot-tubs unless they are warm-tubs in disguise. My mother claims I bathe in luke-warm water, almost cool water. I find my mother’s dish-washing water to be hotter than I can stand. However, there are times when nothing but very hot water will due, and this was one of those times.

I spent four hours in the tub, almost three of which I spent reading the exciting mid-chapters of second far-memory book by Joan Grant in the Egyptian tale of Ra-ab. One of the two books is called the Eyes of Horus but I can’t remember if it’s the one I’m reading now, or the first one. Perhaps the other is called the Watchers of the Horizon. It’s truly a must-read, even more so than the Earth’s Children series by Jean Auel, and even more so Fear of Flying by Erica Jong. Yes, there is much wisdom in those books, but it is completely in the shadow of the underlying wisdom to be learned from Joan Grant’s past lives, and I’m sure I will read her books again and again in the future.

My hair is still wet from my adventure into the hot depths of the tub-water, and I’m feeling quite better now. The long soak resulted in very smooth and clean skin which I’m rather unaccustomed to. Months without a working bath-tub this summer, and a couple without hot water all-together compiled with my childhood notion that washing wasn’t really mandatory hasn’t done the best for my skin. Yet, time has shown me the light in the soap and hot water! Alas, I digress...

Look, an entire entry without anything to say about Crusifer. The quiet audience is the happy one, for the talkative one doesn’t pay attention and the loud one is disrespectful, if you get my drift.

Correlation and Causation

Saturday, June 14th 2008 at 8:18pm

I desperately want to see “So Moses Was Born,” and “Eyes of Horus,” by Joan Grant turned into movies. What incredible books! Never mind the fact that they’re true, see through her visions into her past lives. Aside from that, they’re amazing stories that capture truth outside of just the events. Truth is within the very characters and morals expressed in these incredible stories!

I’ve been thinking I need to write letters. Not the ordinary sort of letters you send to friends in family, but letters with my ideas. I should write movie producers about what books should be turned into movies and why. I should write talk-show hosts about why they should have Dr. Mark Hyman as a guest. (I wrote Tyra today to say that she should invite Dr. Mark Hyman onto her show to empower people with the ability to change their health, their life and their outlook.) I should write more game companies with my gaming ideas. It couldn’t hurt, and there are only so many letters you can write and get no response. If I really stuck to doing such a thing, and sent out at least one letter a week, maybe two, I’m bound to start seeing at least some tiny percentage of my ideas go into action, and who gives a damn if I make any money off it or not!

Monday, June 16th 2008 at 6:16pm

Nathan,

All of my beliefs are either based on personal experience or things that I’ve read. Not to say that any of my beliefs are not outlandish, because I know that many of them are. For example, believing that Jesus was born from the father Gabriel, or should I say, an Anunaki, a. k. a Niphliem, or simply put, “an alien.” Yes, I know, this seems entirely crazy, but there is a good amount of research behind it. Read the books written by Zachariah Sitchin.

In terms of High Fructose Corn Syrup, I’ve read about twenty different articles about it. Some were sent through my e-mail, some were in magazines and some were on the internet. Many of them were inconclusive articles saying that there was no research to prove anything, and others, in direct opposition said that there were studies, just that these studies were not acknowledged by the government. There are several explanations (that I’ve read, not that I’ve made up) as to why the government lies about what we should eat. (For example, the food pyramid is a complete lie, because pasta should be extremely limited as it holds little nutritional value and causes tendencies towards many chronic illnesses.)

Out of the number of reasons why the government ignores medical known facts, the most logical explanation is that the sugar and pasta industries pay them off. This happens to be the explanation I’ve read and heard the most, and though I couldn’t site my source, I’m almost positive I’ve read somewhere that there was evidence of such.

A great deal of digging won’t uncover anything the government doesn’t want you to know very successfully. Magazines like Reader’s Digest will only say things that won’t get them in trouble, so when talking about things like high fructose corn syrup or hydrogenated oils they side step any evidence not acclaimed by the... Whatever the three letters are that represent the government’s food control association. NFA? National Food Administration? I think that’s what it is. Anyway, over the past four years I’d say I’ve read about ten articles accusing them NFA of blatantly lying about new research because they were paid to lie about it.

For example, scientists reported that there is NO safe about of hydrogenated oils in your body, and yet the NFA set a “safe amount” that can be used in foods. On top of that, if there is a very small amount used, the product can claim to have “no trans fats,” which is why you should always read the ingredients and not rely on silly statements like “low fat” and “no trans fats” and “sugar free” which are all lies in one way or another.

Aspartame is also known to be completely unfit for consumption. It’s known to have chemical effects in the body that are downright toxic. If I remember correctly, it turns to “wood alcohol” in lame-man’s terms, which is also used in rat poison. Correct me on this one if you can find evidence to state otherwise. Perhaps I read that it was something else that we eat that is also in rat poison – like the stuff in cigarettes? In any case, aspartame is toxic.

In the case of margarine, which has been said to be “healthier” than butter for several dozen years, it’s been uncovered that margarine is only molecule away from being plastic. On top of this, it does not decompose, any animals and bugs won’t eat it. It’s been shown to clog arteries. On top of that, butter has shown to be loaded with healthy cholesterol which actually helps to unclog arteries. And in addition to the things I’ve read about butter and margarine I have my mom as living proof. My mother and her family has never had any cholesterol problems at all. And guess what they eat? Butter, butter and more butter!

My mother, by herself, goes through about two sticks of butter in a week. As a household of five, where four of us use the same kitchen and eat from the same butter supply, we go through about a stick and a half of butter a day, and none of us have cholesterol problems. This would seem to be another blatant lie on the part of the NFA or whom-ever is in control of telling us what’s good for us and what isn’t.

Now, not that Dr. Mark Hyman talks about conspiracies, or about the NFA very much, he does tell his patients not to eat any refined sugar, hydrogenated oils, or alternative sugars. He also has his patients come off all their medications (very slowly and at a safe rate.) He tells his patients to quit all white flour, sugar, and things containing gluten for a period of time and slowly reintroduces things into their diet to discover potential minor-food-allergies that are not recognized in America’s traditional medical facilities.

Dr. Mark Hyman has also revealed that high levels of mercury are in our sea food, and high levels of steroids are in our meat, which make foods that would be good for us, toxic instead. He says that while many of could deal with these toxins in our body, we can’t with our current diets because the vitamins that fuel our anti-toxins are in foods that most people don’t eat enough of to count.

Dr. Mark Hyman does not claim that high fructose corn syrup doesn’t leave the intestines. I recall reading that particular fact in an article that was sent to me via e-mail, and then confirming it since then on one or two websites. This information (if deemed true) would be hard to get a hold of because eighty-percent or so of everything in a regular grocery store contains corn syrup! These companies would do anything to prevent that information from spreading.

Some people claim that it’s a conspiracy to kill of the elderly. I think that is nonsense, and have not incorporated that claim into my belief system because of one simple fact. They don’t use high fructose corn syrup for any reason other than the fact that it’s cheap. How cheap? I don’t know, but I do know that whole-sale soda is about 5 cents a can, and one or two of those cents, perhaps three of those cents are used on the can itself. That means the actual contents are just about worthless: high fructose corn syrup, water, artificial and natural flavorings and coloring.

What’s really disgusting is that soda can claim to be “all natural” just by taking out artificial flavorings. This, by law of transitivity means that they’re telling us that high fructose corn syrup is “natural” which it isn’t. It may come from natural sugar, but sugar was never meant to be refined three or four times and then eaten or drank in mass amounts. And we can prove that it was not meant to be eaten or drank in any amount by a simple study that anyone can do.

For anyone who does not drink beverages with high fructose corn syrup, try drinking one of those beverages every day for a month. I bet you’ll gain twenty pounds, and if your moltabolism is high enough that you don’t, I bet you’ll find at least one of the following to be true: you’re reluctant to stop drinking the beverage (evidence of it’s addictive qualities), you’re having headaches, you have trouble sleeping or getting up, you have less energy, you alternate between being hyper and tired, you’re less happy about your life, you crave more food or sweets than previously, or you have issues using the bathroom.

For anyone who does drink beverages with high fructose corn syrup, try not drinking any of these beverages for one month. You may lose twenty pounds or more, or find that any of the previously listed symptoms go away.

That particular study has most certainly been done a number of times. While they’ve found no direct connection to weight loss there are always improvements. The reason that not all people lose weight when cutting out high fructose corn syrup can be accounted for in more ways than I can list. They may be lacking in a number of necessary vitamins. They may have stress issues that are reflecting on the bodies. It may be age related, and it may be a combination of all of those together. It can even be a direct result of toxicity.

And I can guarantee you that I’ve not made one bit of this up, nor have I taken any one person’s word on it, unless it was Dr. Mark Hyman, because I’ve never found a single thing that he wrote or said to be untrue. Through his writing I learned enough to lose thirty pounds and get rid of continual stomach pains, burping, chest pains, and other afflictions which I have already previously gone into detail about.

In regards to all the other claims I made, they are founded either in personal experience or in things that I’ve read or both, just as the things I say about health. The real bottom line is, however, that evidence is a tricky thing to measure. While correlation is not necessarily causation, it generally still implies relation. While high fructose corn syrup may not be the worst thing for you to eat (though I believe that it’s the second-worst after aspartame), and while it may not mean that you gain weight, and it may not effect your health for years, the fact of the matter is, that there is a strong relation between the level of health your experience and that of how much refined sugar you eat.

I find this to be true everywhere I go. I find that people with bad skin or with weight problems or both reveal large sugar consumption in nine out of ten people. I met an elderly woman who got pimples and drank a lot of soda. Just last week I met a man who was around three hundred and fifty pounds by the looks of him, and in my presence he ate around thirty Hershey-kisses. My mother has a friend who has every health problem you can name, including being very obese and having severe back pains, and she eats sugar all day long in the form of chocolate, soda and candy. She won’t eat much salt however, and worries about her sodium intake. Her doctors tell her to worry about salt, sodium and cholesterol, but say nothing about sugar. Does this not seem like lies?

Carlos’s mother, a good friend of this woman as similar problems and a similar diet. My brother is diabetic and his diet is similar. The less sugar he eats, the more weight he loses, but he’s so addicted to it (and admits that he is) that it’s hard for him to cut back. His wife has all the same health issues and eats the same diet.

My other brother however doesn’t eat much sugar at all, but he does eat a lot of “fats” and a lot of meats and other things people claim are so terrible, and he maintains a healthy weight. His ex-wife eats similarly and she is in great shape.

I could go on and on and on with people I know who eat sugar and have health problems. Ari, a girl I went to girl-scouts with is always tired, overweight and have dramatic mood swings, and her diet contains sugared beverages, pastas and other non-nutrient containing foods. Angel, a male guy friend (not the chick I talk to by e-mail), has just lost a ton of weight, (around seventy pounds) and he did it by taking my advice to stop drinking soda. If you want to say this is a coincidence, go ahead, but might I remind you Nathan, that for all the time I’ve known you you’ve been overweight and have had pretty unhealthy-looking skin on your arms.

I rest my case.

All or Nothing

Because I just posted these today (my bad guys!) you might have missed these: June 7th and June 8th. While I’m busy linking things, you may look at new pictures of me on my myspace. And now, the entry:

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Tuesday, June 10th 2008 at 7:02pm

“All or nothing,” I said as I gave him back the ring. In other words, we behave like a married couple and do all that the other wishes, everything that we can do, and not just everything that we must do, or we break up. Either this is the last honey-moon of our relationship, or this is just beginning our lifetimes together. Time will tell.

Friday, June 13th 2008 at 12:07pm

I forgot to take the Laundry out of the washer on Tuesday. Crusifer discovered this. I had completely forgotten. Since the washer and dryer is on the second floor, right beside my parent’s bedroom, on the other side of Mary’s apartment so that I have to go to the first floor to get to it... Usually my mom puts it in the dryer for me. I didn’t think I had to remember. Especially because I wouldn’t expect it to go on to other people’s laundry days without anyone saying so. Monday and Tuesday are my days to get my laundry done.

I called him to me, barely awake enough to know I was awake, wanting his affection. He replied with telling me I let the wash sit there and grow mildew because I was relying on my mom instead of doing it myself. I snapped awake. Not having anything but something like that to think about will wake anybody up and make them feel miserable, eh?

He was surprised when I began to cry. I wouldn’t have cried over it during the day or at night, but first thing in the morning...? That’s not the best time to slap somebody’s wrist... I likely won’t be able to think about anything else all day.

I hate that he’s at work. I won’t see him for eleven hours... He’ll spend all that time talking to people who... don’t give a shit about anything...

I feel so shitty and I only just got up.

Friday, June 13th 2008 at 4:01pm

Perhaps it’s not so unbelievable that the world is in shambles. In the generation of my grandparents (growing up in 1890 to 1940) being able to get an education at a large public facility was amazing. Imagine, your parents are farmers, but there is a community college in the nearest city, and you can scrape up enough money to go. Imagine that few people you know can read, and fewer still can write, and that you’ve grown up plowing fields and no you discover that you can earn a living using your brain. (I’m doing a lot of guessing here, so cut me some slack.)

Teenagers set out to do things differently than their parents, and usually end up falling in all the same ruts. But what happened between my mom’s generation and mine? When she was my age getting an education was a privilege, drugs didn’t make the world go round, and women we’re still becoming house wives. So why are girls my age dropping out of high-school to raise babies and work at the same time? What happened that people take marriage as seriously as they take... Anything else these days, right along with the flippant attitudes around sex, drugs, religion and careers.

I feel like nobody cares about anything. And the things people do care about is just disgusting... It’s hard for me to stop being down on the world sometimes. I feel like it’s not enough that I live a good life... Yet you ask me what I’m doing about anything? Signing petitions online... I suppose that’s about it... I just want to know what happened to the virtue of education... I feel like this city has forsaken it.

Friday, June 13th 2008 at 10:01pm

I have some speculations about love that I just must write down. These speculations were inspired by the following:

“Love,” says Dr. Erich Fromm, “is the only satisfactory answer to the problem of human existence.”

And, from Paracelsus; “He who knows nothing, loves nothing. He who can do nothing understands nothing. He who understands nothing is worthless. But he who understands also loves, notices, sees... The more knowledge is inherent in a thing, the greater the love... Anyone who imagines that all fruits ripen at the same time as the strawberries knows nothing about grapes.”

Both are quite profound, and lead into things I already “know” or, more correctly, believe about the ever-illusive love.

I was thinking about these things, and also thinking about mankind, and our existence when it occurred to me that humankind is very without love as a whole. War is loveless. Weapons are loveless. Poverty is loveless. Lies are loveless. The battle of religions is so loveless that it’s plain hopeless. After all, every religion worth belonging to says that we should “love our neighbors” and to “do unto others as we would have them do unto us” and so forth, and yet we would rise up in crusades, torture, kill, taunt, and discriminate against others who have a variety of different beliefs.

Wouldn’t it be much more fruitful for everyone if all the religion stopped battling? Imagine if no one ever tried to convert you again, by force or by persuasion? Wouldn’t that make a dramatic improvement on the contentment of society and in the love of other beliefs? I have nothing against the bible, and am a believer in Jesus, and yet Christians drive me to distraction when they’re “sewing their seeds” by spreading “scripture.” If that’s all they really are out to do then they can sell their books silently! (And without the big signs indicating that we’re going to hell!)

If I believed in hell I’d say around eight-percent of us are headed their. We’re all jealous of someone, and short of that, we’ve all lied to someone out of guilt or anger or fear, and short of that we’ve stolen from somebody or taken revenge on someone, or been unfaithful or judgmental. And many of us are not repent-ful in the least. And if that was enough evidence to hell being overcrowded, how about the “fact” that only one religion (the right one!) and the right actions matched will get you a ticket into the white palace in the clouds among the saints.

What a load of rubbish.

If everyone was busy loving someone else (instead of looking for someone to love them) then the whole world might be a bit different. “Where is the love?” asked the black eyed peas. It’s a very good question. It’s certainly not in the government, and not in prisons, and not in schools, and not in churches, and not in many or most hospitals. Worse yet, it’s not even households anymore. Parents are divorced, and kids are growing up with one defect or another. If it’s not their health and weight and concepts about food and exercise (which is at least half of America’s children), then it’s due to drug abusing parents or friends, and short of that there is a lack of education, or an abusive parent or parents. And if you’re a really unlucky kid you could be victim to kidnaping or rape. What a beautiful world we’re raising kids in these days! And none of it sounds like love to me.

Now, this is going to sound really cruel, I’ll grant that. But hear me out. If you love your children more than anything and want them to not repeat your mistakes, wouldn’t you feed them the best foods, send them to the best schools, give them the attention they need, not spoil them, do the research to learn what’s best for them and sacrifice your own comfort to bring them up with a health mentality? I bet you’re saying “of course!” to these things, right?

If you know that coming to them every time they cry when they’re a baby immediately (after several months, not when they’re a newborn) is spoiling them, you’d hold back on your impulse and wait a few minutes of their tears, right? A lot of parents these days at least have gotten that far.

If you know that talking to them about sex and drugs is a good way to help show your kids your family values you’d shove down your discomfort and confront them on these issues before they’re horny and depressed teenagers, right? A lot of parents even get that right too, and this is also worthy of applause.

If you know the best way for your child to identify with male and female aspects of society is to have a mother and a father living at home, you’d try your best to work it out with your spouse or to find a suitable replacement if impossible, right? This one is a tougher one, and for the most part, where I live this is sadly lacking.

I’m not going to argue my case for home schooling, because for some families that can’t work and maybe isn’t even the best for the children in many cases. But my all-time pet-peeve?

If I told you that it’s a known fact that corn syrup (with high fructose or not) stays in the intestines relatively permanently, would you feed your children anything with high fructose corn syrup in it? And to set an example, wouldn’t it be best for you not to eat any of it as well so there wouldn’t be any hypocrisy and so that it wouldn’t be in the household?

If I told you that it’s a known fact (that is covered up as best as it can be) that refined sugar in general ruins your capillaries and increases the risk for virtually every disease under the sun especially diabetes, wouldn’t you then decide it was best to removed refined sugar from your household and especially from your child’s diet?

The sugar conspiracy makes me so angry that I could just scream. I keep seeing fat children! Children are supposed to have energy and happiness, not be tired after running half way across the room and be loaded with an extra thirty pounds and stuffing their face with candy every half hour. It’s just disgusting. ADD is a freaking lie. All that is wrong with the child is the amount of sugar he eats, and studies with hundreds of children (in independent non-government funded facilities that managed to not get paid off by the sugar industries) show this to be true. Even their hand-writing improved after changing their diet from candy, burgers, pasta and pop-tarts to whole foods like grass-fed meats cooked with long-grain brown rice or other fillers full of fiber, a large variety of vegetables, whole-grain breads, and fruits.

This all goes to show how little love is in the world. Parents aren’t even willing to change their life-styles for the little-ones they love the most. Perhaps they want to, or perhaps they are trying to, but as we all know, trying is just the non-existent moment between thinking about doing something and doing it. You might be trying to get a certain affect by doing something, but there is no “trying” to be accounted for without an action and a desired result.

Self-love is pretty much non-existent as well. While you have handful of the population who takes care of their health, mentally, emotionally and physically (and even spiritually), the majority of the population (from my perspective) is on a self-destructive path through one outlet or another. Perhaps their outlet is partying which they masquerade as “enjoying life.” Sadly and ironically enough, “enjoying life” seems to also be the same excuse used for lack of maintaining health.

I have a very sober question to ask. Are hospital bills enjoyable? What about hang-overs? What about waking up to somebody you don’t know? What about vomiting up half your stomach? Do you enjoy acid flux or constatation? Is withdrawal from drugs (legal or illegal) enjoyable? Is spending a good portion (or any portion) of your income on any form of drugs enjoyable? Is discovering that you’ve gained weight enjoyable? Is depression enjoyable?

Enjoying life means being healthy enough to enjoy it, and anyone who denies it is well... In denial. And as I’ve said before “denial leads to break-ups” and I don’t just mean in romantic relationships. It also breaks up relationships between you and your body, you and your job, and the relationship between you and your happiness.

Say you’re perfectly healthy. Say you do love yourself. But do you love your partner? Do you exercise with your partner? Do you encourage them to live your healthy life-style? Are you involved in their life? If you actually love yourself and your partner, and if you have kids and you take all the previously described steps to loving your children as well, then I fully commend you as a honor to society. But if you are indeed one of those people, then you’ll understand my distress. How few people have you met like yourself? How many others have you met who are interested in self-improvement and “brightening the corner where they are” and loving their significant other to the fullest?

What’s worse is that the few people out there like that are only the hardiest of us. Most of us had the chance to be loving creatures when we were small. But at one point in life or another something in us snapped. Was it the first-grade bullies or the high-school ones? Or did it take you until your first ass-hole boss to start to hate the world instead of love it? And how can we love the world when the world seems so determined to hate us!

I feel like I’m on that struggle right now in my life. I can take life and embrace it and love it and hold on to all of it’s beauty and pleasure, or I can let the oppressive hate in and become anther empty shell going about daily life...

Perhaps that’s the real reason why I’m so against getting a job. My frail immune system makes a great excuse, and so does wanting to be a stay-at-home wife, but more relevantly, I think a real day job would suck the life-force out of me. I might become “stronger” and I might be a bit “richer” but I might be in fact poorer and weaker on the inside, where it matters most. Day jobs are miserable. They kick you down, and then keep kicking you while you’re down. Sure, they don’t have to be like that, but from my perspective, most jobs (especially an no-experience entry-level) are heart-break, heart-burn, heart-bruise and burn until you’re a scarred mass who is open to nothing and no one.

I sigh. How can I not? I feel like my employment and my loss of spirit is inevitable. I’m fighting a battle inside myself to be self-motivated, self-inspired, self-satisfying, self-loving and to be loving to those around me. Fear is a big enemy to these ambitions, and yet I’m extremely afraid of all the technicalities in life preventing me from achieving these goals. The last thing I need is a worthless minimum-wage day job, or a heart-wrenching break-up.

I suppose I’m not really one to judge what’s best. I’m only nineteen after all, and the powers the be know that I’m reminded of that all too often. Were that I wasn’t nineteen. What age would I be? I’d be ageless, and name-less save that of love. You could call me chi for short, and beautiful when you try to seduce me.

Love is an art. It takes effort and practice. Falling in love is not an art, it just happens. Making it last is the important part.

Together Forever?

Tuesday, April 29th 2008 at 2:37am

Boredom comes from not being obsessed with something. I wish I was obsessed with something. I want to be obsessed with something creative, productive, engaging, and skill enhancing. I guess that’s a bit much to ask though, isn’t it? I’ve gone back to working on my computer-game-design, but it’s not very engaging. There is nothing exciting about it. It’s just a bunch of text and concept art. Tables, and descriptions and stats aren’t very easy to be obsessed with.

Crusifer isn’t here often enough for me to really obsess over him, and even if he was, he never wants anything. I could shower him with affection, attention, and doing what he wants to do, but it hardly makes a difference to him at all. I mean, he’ll notice, but he’ll say “it’s nice and all, but not really necessary.”

I have anime music blasting through my headphones right now, so that I don’t have to hear the music emitting from Crusifer’s headphones. He’s drawing, looking adorable as he does so. He’s drawing a chick out of a magazine for “anatomy practice.” This is something he does periodically, usually filling an entire page with random sketches. I don’t have the type of drive to do something like that. I’m all about a finished product, when the finished product is disappointing or long in coming I tend to have a habit of quitting.

I suppose that’s one reason why art appeals to me. Why ever quit a picture? It won’t take that long to finish it. And, it’s more appealing to look at every moment that you work on it (to a degree).

I’d like to complete this computer game design and submit it to a company... After some research on how that’s done. How do you submit something without them just stealing the ideas they want and then rejecting your proposal? I know there are ways, but of course I don’t really know much about it. Copyrighting your work and such. It would be nice if they would steal the entire thing and do it just the way I outlined it, but more likely they’d steal several key ideas and dump the rest, and then I couldn’t even prove they ever “stole” anything.

Anyway, say I could submit it without it being stolen, then there is fact that they probably won’t even give it a second glance because I have no degree or work experience in the field. Yet, there is a chance someone might look at and take in the uniqueness of the ideas presented, and see that there is a good sized market for such a game. But that chance will hang in impossibility without a complete design to look at.

I won’t consider the design complete until all aspects of the game are covered, all races, all items, all spells, all functions, all abilities, all disciplines, all realms and terrains, and maps and so on. I’d like all the concept art to be all complete too, but that’s a lot of concept art. The interface design is not a problem for me, but the concept art is really more than I could hope to accomplish. Crusifer and I together could probably do all of it, but relying on Crusifer for something like that (I’ve learned) is folly.
There is no point in asking myself if it is worth it or not to complete the design, because it most certainly is even though the chance of it ever being used for the template for a real game is slim. If but nothing but for my pride.

There is also the chance of putting together a team to design it with me with an agreed about of percentages of payoff (if and) when there is one. My major issue with that is how low quality the game would be if I managed to do that. Saga clearly took a very long time in the making and it’s coding is clearly crap because the load times are terrible for a game with low graphics and small playing fields. This leads me to believe that they have the inexperienced coders as well as average-joe modelers. And while Saga’s game concept is very good, the whole game (as it is now) doesn’t have draw after a certain point in the game for the economical strategist. I want this game to be made much more professionally.

Wednesday, April 30th 2008 at 12:06pm

I’m getting that sick to my stomach feeling again. I get it every time I start to believe that Crusifer and I might not be... Good for each other?

He said to me last week (and has written on several occasions) that he wants to quit drinking. This morning he said that he doesn’t want to quit. I think it’s over, that’s what I think. Not today, not tomorrow, but soon enough. As fast as life flies by it’ll be over and in the past before I can really comprehend why.

What happened to all of his talk of forever? What happened to all of mine? He’s not willing to budge an inch for me. Well, I guess a few inches. I don’t have enough time with him to prove my points to him. I don’t have enough time with him to really understand him, to really understand where our relationship stands.

He hardly ever admits to changing his mind, or tells me that he has changed his mind. It’s always “well I think...” or “I feel...” about whatever it is, and it’s almost always different than the last time. I don’t think I know him as well as I thought I did. I don’t think he wants this as bad as I thought he did.

In the middle of February, when I was the most happy with this relationship if he had threatened to break up with me I would have bent over backwards to change his mind. I would have given up anything, picked up anything, given him more freedoms, done anything but feel the heartbreak surely to come. I see so much of myself in him that I expected him to be the same way. I thought if I expressed that I felt it wasn’t working... If I told him I was having second thoughts... If I made it clear that his actions were upsetting me, depressing me and pushing me away... I thought if I told him those things that he would suddenly be a panic to keep me, the way I would be and have been over him.

I was sorely wrong.

He barely seems to care. I want to say that this is because he hardly shows any emotions, but perhaps it’s because he doesn’t feel things. He says things like “I’m human too you know” but how can I remember that when he hardly shows it?

I don’t believe that I’m not crying right now. That shows how close to the end it really is. I’m already starting to accept my heart cracking down the center. I’m already beginning to accept that I need to find a life outside of him. I’m already accepting the fact that I have to be independent... Some part of me (that I don’t know to well) is preparing for it, some part of me that is wiser than the part of me that has control.

How can I leave him? He’s a good man. He is. He’s a beautiful artist. He’s beautiful in general. He makes good money with his talent. He has worth while goals. He has stamina. I want to say he’s passionate, as I’ve said before, but I’m not sure that word applies so much anymore. I see it more and more as lust and not passion. Passion implies emotions, and deep emotions at that. Oddly I see him more and more as a less emotional being, and more robotic and cruel.

Why do I see that? It’s not even a logical assertion! He’s not violent (like Tre was), he’s not messy (like Tre was), he’s not a drug dealer (like Tre was), and he is logical (like Tre wasn’t)... Or is he logical? I’m having trouble with that one these days too. So have I just scratched off passionate and logical with one blow? That certainly is a lot. If I scratch those off it’s a lot harder to make a good case for him. Have I deluded myself into thinking he’s more than he is?

He did buy me a laptop. He does give me incredible orgasms. Why don’t those things matter in the face of how he speaks to me? I’m so word-oriented. I keep believing his words. Perhaps out of spite for him not believing mine?

I want to sink into being suicidal. I want to declare that my life is over!

I also want to be more mature than that.

So is maturity... Break up? It’s tempting in the way that I wouldn’t have to keep trying to work it out. It’s tempting in that there would never been another screaming fit. Christ! When did breaking up with him become tempting? My love, my future, my plans and attachments are slipping right through my fingers! I’m standing in sand. I’m in quicksand. And I’m sinking, sinking, sinking... Sinking out of love with him?

I feel the beginnings of tears. I don’t want to cry, oddly. I usually can’t wait to cry when I feel like this. Just get it out you know? But I know once I start to cry the little negative voices will chirp up. The ones that say things like, “this is all your fault,” and “it’s because you’re ugly,” and “if you weren’t such a retard, like he said,” and “if you weren’t such a needy baby,” and “you just don’t love him enough,” and “if only you’d just let him drink,” and “maybe you can settle for less,” and “maybe if you change and adapt enough you won’t feel this way,” and “maybe if you were more considerate,” and “maybe if you lost weight,” and “maybe if you gained weight,” and “maybe if you had sex with him more often,” and so on, and so on, and so on!

I’m trying to be rational here. If I keep being rational I can hold those thoughts at bay. Why is this really happening? It’s because I have needs that he can’t satisfy. I want a companion, for several hours a day, (preferably more, but three or four is a good minimum) that will give me affection, talk to me, kiss me, possibly sleep with me (at least once a week, preferably two to five times) and tell me how wonderful I am, (while I tell them how wonderful they are) who will work with me on a project (the actual content of the project not being half as important as the fact that we’re doing it together) and then another project and then another over time and years, who will comfort me if I cry, who will care for me (instead of saying I’m a pussy, or that I’m weak, or that I’m being a typical woman), and who will make me feel special. And at least one day out of the week, (really the minimum is more like two days a week, I guess I made an exception for Crusifer) spends time with me all day long, where we might go out together, where we get dressed together, brush our teeth together, hold hands along a nice walk, wash each other’s faces, take a bath together, clean each other’s toe nails, scratch each other’s heads, watch a good movie, draw together, read together, write together, play video games together...

That’s what I want, most simply put.

He has needs that I can’t satisfy as well. He wants to listen to loud rap music. (It has to be loud, it has to be rap.) In the future he hopes to have his own room far away enough from mine where he can blare his music loud as he wants. (He’ll never understand that I can’t stand it no matter what I say. He won’t believe it. I’m just being a pussy after all. (This is a moment where you’d think I roll my eyes, but rather I’m too upset to stop staring blankly at the screen.))

He also needs his friends. This one is hard to argue with really. Everyone has friends. Everyone but me. And at this point in my life it’s actually my choice. Perhaps I’m so used to not having friends that I’ve become comfortable with it?

It’s occurred to me that his quest to not being enslaved (as he puts it) is leading him to try and enslave me. He told me this morning that men have more say in the relationship, and that is the way it’s always been, and always will be. I tried not to hear him. I was disgusted, but I tried to pretend that he was kidding. He started laughing afterwards, like it was a joke, but it wasn’t a joke. He’s trying to pin me under his thumb. Once I let him listen to his blaring loud rap music, and let him drink, and let him bring friends over, and let him go out with friends, then he’ll be excited to marry me. And then I won’t be interested anymore.

I never thought these issues would escalate. I remember saying to Crusifer, “I can’t imagine what problems we’ll have,” and he replied, “We won’t have any.”

What a naive reply! And how much denial it really shows in him. Or hopefulness?

Perhaps he’s in denial that this isn’t working. Or perhaps he’s just quietly separating himself from me, the way I know I am somewhere deep inside of me. That’s that pain we feel in our chest. I’ve concluded that feeling is the soul ripping apart. My soul is slowly, one tiny spot at a time tearing away from his, and the change in energy is centering in my stomach, making me sway with uneasiness, making my chest vibrate and ache. If I cry, I’ll try to heal the tear inside of me, I’ll try to calm my restless energies. Perhaps I shouldn’t cry yet. I need to keep tearing, tearing, tearing away from a man who wants to control me. A man who wants to party, drink, smoke, blare his rap music and “chill wit da boys.”

I can’t believe my own thoughts! I’m thinking about the fact that I ought to try dating a white guy. I’m thinking about actually trying to find someone else! God help me! Someone help me!

I will. Not. Cry. Yet.

I think I understand something about him now. Why he doesn’t cry. Crying leads you back to safety. I’ll cry my way back into Crusifer’s arms and peacefully forget how I felt, and why I felt that way. Tears lead me back into my emotions, back away from logic, they allow me to let go what I’m holding back right now so that I can analyze.

Right now I need to choose. To pull away from Crusifer, or to try and mend it. Again, again, again. I’ve tried this before. I’ve tried mending it several times. We tried the compromises. Sadly it’s not even what he does at the moment. It’s the things he’s said.

I don’t want to keep being called a retard (even from the same man that calls me a genius – neither of which I am I suppose) and I don’t want to be treated the way I was this morning. The way he cut me off, the way he wouldn’t listen, the way he called me full of shit again.

He’ll never keep his promises, will he? It’s been a year and a half and he’s still drinking, and I’m still a liar, and he still won’t believe that the sound of music is really disturbing enough to matter, and I feel more and more and more alone. I feel so lonely I could burst.

I will. Not. Cry yet. Not yet, not yet, not yet.

He’s been better than Isadora’s Josh. He’s not a big baby. He started off like Isadora’s Bean. (I’m talking about Isadora Wing, from the three-book series by Erica Jong.) He started off making love to me in the most amazing ways. We were sex maniacs together, and after the sex we talked and talked and talked until the mornings. He was understanding. Our pasts related to each other. I understood him in ways he had not been understood before, and he did the same for me. We were so affectionate. Oh how I miss how he used to touch me!

I will not cry yet! Not yet! Not yet!

I miss being happy with him. I miss being sure. I was so fucking sure! I was sure! I wanted nobody but him! I wanted to marry him! I wanted his kids! I did this all over again! All fucking over again! (Not yet!)

Why is this all in past tense? I have not given up, have I? Christ, I’m not even sure about that! Please forgive me for my sins, for I am thinking this isn’t going to work, and I’m thinking that I should cut it off sooner rather than later, and my heart is pounding, and my face is contorted from holding back tears, and my lips are fidgeting, and I’m paralyzed from the neck down aside from my fingers, clacking, taping, jittering, pressing, moving, like spider’s legs across the keyboard, finding the next letter, seeking, searching, searching, searching the way I am for love, for affection, for companionship, for someone to feel the way I feel.

I want him to feel how I feel.

I just want him to fucking feel the way I fucking feel.

I’m degrading, I’m falling apart, my logic is failing me, my heart is burning. I want to curl up in his arms and I want to cry. I want him to tell me I’m beautiful. I want him to tell me he’s sorry. I want to believe that this will work... Will work... Will work... Will work...

Wednesday, April 30th 2008 at 5:42pm

Predictably, I left my entry this morning to sprawl on my bed and cry. I think I wept loudly for about five minutes, quietly for another five, stared at nothingness for around ten minutes and then I decided to focus my entry into the drawing I’m working on. It’s an anime rendition of Crusifer and I together. What I like about the picture most is that it actually looks like Crusifer, and it kinda really looks like me too. Except that we both have big anime eyes, and our heads are rather large for the bodies, and the bodies are longer and thinner, and the necks very thin, especially mine. I love how the picture is coming out.

Crusifer inspires my art time and time and time again. I don’t want to give up, but I also don’t want to “waste” my time with him. Not that I really believe it’s a waste, because after all we’re learning from each other (from the negative and the positive experiences). I still have hope for our relationship, but this morning was another punch to the tit. Telling me that I was full of shit again really socked it to me. And then bringing up the music thing again... Telling me the man should have the say in the relationship... Telling me that I shouldn’t go take a college class because one class is useless and a waste of money. Telling me that I’m spending all his money and preventing him from saving. Telling me he’s not very sure about marrying me, at all. And the real whopper, he doesn’t want to quit drinking, and doesn’t plan on it. He said that he wrote that he wanted to quit because I got the idea in his head, implying that I clouded his judgement. (As if beer doesn’t cloud one’s judgement...)

I’ve considered all the possibilities that I can, and I’ve come to a conclusion. I will take the summer college course (sculpting – mostly because that is the only art course there was that was at a somewhat reasonable hour and that sounded interesting enough and was at an entry level) and I will soon have my bike in the mail. When my bike arrives I will bike to and from work with Crusifer, which may improve our relationship, or it may not. Either way, I’ll get exercise and see the outdoors and will be exploring another possible area of our relationship. That would add another hour onto the amount of time we spend together each and every day that I bike with him to and from work. In addition, taking the course will give me something else to learn about, something else to focus on, and somewhere new to meet new people interested in similar things.

Another measure I’m taking is that I’m halting all the wedding and children talk. The man I saw this morning was absolutely not the man I’m going to marry. This morning did serious damage to my opinion of him, and this time I think the damage is more permanent than before. Previously I’ve been able to forgive him, to let him redeem himself with promises and kisses. I won’t take promises and kisses as redemption for the things he said to me this morning. I will not marry a man who drinks, no matter how little, or how often. It’s a disgusting habit and if he can’t kick it for me then I’m obviously not worth it to him, thus making him not worth it to me.

I’m in no hurry to get out of this relationship, and at the moment I don’t even feel like I’m in a hurry to have kids and get married. I’m in no hurry to do anything in my love life at all. At the moment it’s functional, though somewhat upsetting at times. If I drop the marriage talk, the drinking talk, the kids talk, and an assortment of my other complaints about video games and people and such, then perhaps the arguing will stop, and perhaps things can mend from there. Perhaps biking with him will rekindle something between us that I feel is dying. Does he feel this way about to me too? I really believe that he does, based on the things he’s said and done. He just doesn’t seem committed, or sure that he wants this for himself, and that alone is enough to make me wonder if I’m with the wrong man.

I’m not putting him on some sort of trial, and I’m not going to test him. I don’t believe that he’s going to change. I’m going to push myself to socialize and find new avenues for myself this summer.

I’m going to try to adapt. If I can’t adapt, then I guess that’s that.

You know what really makes me sick though? I don’t feel like he’s really truly tried to do this my way, even under threat of breaking up. Perhaps February was a fluke and he was really just rushing home because it was cold. The back-rubs have stopped. The giddy cuddling is down below the minimum required for sanity in my life. The conversations become more and more argumentative and less and less productive (or even funny or thoughtful.) He doesn’t compliment me half as much as he used to. I get a “you look cute today” in a standard tone, with his standard admiration look... Sometimes he’s not even looking at me when he says it.

Oh, and I forgot the other sock to my guts he gave me last night. He brought up us having a girlfriend... After all this time of having dropped the subject, after ruling it out, after mutually deciding that it would ruin our relationship he brought it up again. I don’t really think it’s that bad that he brought it up, really. I mean, so it’s a nice fantasy and all, but it’s just so impossible to bring to reality, and if it did become reality I know we’d breakup over it. How do I know? I can imagine it clearly now... I know my jealousy better now...

I can see this pretty white girl, blond most likely, sitting on his lap while he’s at his computer. (I’m imagining this in print here, for the benefit of future recollection of my point.) He let’s her distract him from his computer (the way he would get mad at me for doing) and they kiss and kiss and kiss (the way we did when we were a new couple) and they sleep together often (making me feel out of place, jealous and angry and neglected) and she leaves most of the day, comes home when he does, and then they’re all over each other again, talking, laughing... It wouldn’t work unless I loved her too, unless she loved me too. Chances of that? Zilch.

Just thinking about it makes my blood boil. I want him to behave that way towards me again, not watch him behave the way towards a new woman!

I want his love and affection and attention so bad that I’m a wreak. I’m so blasted lonely in here that I could just set myself on fire. (That would take more guts than I really have.)

I’ve been working every single day towards getting that office done in the back. And it’s coming along quite well, as I’ve said before. It’s a good project to keep me distracted. All the boxes of books are out of there. All of the boxes of papers I have sorted through (tossing 90% of it – magazines and pamphlets and other text not written by either of my parents). I kept the stuff that had their signatures or handwriting and carefully filed it into a bin. The materials for my binders about my parents that I will create in the future.

All the tools I found I put in one box. I painted over the plain soot-covered shelves that the boxes had been on. The shelves are built into what is usually the knee-wall. They’re on both sides of the soon-to-be office. On the one side I’ve finished painting them black and there is the CD player, cleaning supplies, the bin full of old papers, trash bags, an assortment of now-empty binders, a box of reader’s digest magazines (from the late 80s and early 90s) and the box of tools.

The office project brings me closer to making Crusifer more comfortable and happy with our arrangement. He’ll probably be able to play music on the whole opposite end of the attic while I’m on the bed if there is a fan going in between, which there will be in the summer time. That would allow him music time on Sundays. I’m not too happy about not being with him during any part of our time together in the house, but then again, I’m obviously not happy about a lot of things, so compromises of any kind are helpful at the moment.

I’m not going to tell him about how I feel about this morning. I can’t really see the point. He knows what I want from him. He’ll notice that the chain I gave him (where he puts his engagement ring) is missing along with the bracelet, and promise ring are missing. He’ll notice that I won’t talk of marriage or kids anymore. It’s clear enough, just like it’s clear that I’m not his ideal wife either.

And so the little voice in my head says....

Thursday, April 24th 2008 at 3:07pm

Some say that "we're all going to die someday" and use this as a way to live their life however they feel like living it. They use this as an excuse to do drugs, to hurt people, to hurt themselves, to eat poorly, to not vote, to not care, to do whatever floats their boat for the next day, the next hour, the next minute.

Even if I'm going to die at the age of twenty three, I'm still going to eat healthy, I still won't party, I still won't hurt other people, I'll still vote in the election, I'll still be kind to my family and myself, I'll still write, I'll still love and make love, I'll still draw and create, create, create.

It's not how long you live, but how you live. And to me, the most important parts of living are love, respect, health and creation. And I can't live my life without all four of those, and it's pretty hard to live without pride too.

Let everyone else drink soda, eat cake, white bread, ice cream, margarine, and smoke cigarettes. Let everyone else drink and drive, and drink at all for that matter. Let everyone else beat their wives, feed their children junk food, work a job with no pride, put other people down to make themselves feel better, neglect voting the same way they neglect their mind and body and loved ones. Let everyone else put money before self satisfaction, creation and love.

Hopefully if I write it all down, and dance my heart out, write my heart out, and give my heart away as often and as much as possible, then hopefully I won't slide into apathy. Hopefully I won't become old and bitter and uncaring. Hopefully I'll always care about my health, and my art. If I start to slide, then hopefully my readers will save me. Won't you?

Thursday, April 24th 2008 at 8:23pm

I keep thinking that if I create some perfect system for things that everything will run smoothly. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it) we’re organic beings and so our lives and relationships and actions. We’re not robots. Oddly, my boyfriend has difficulty following a system (or at least a compromise he agrees to) but aspires to be a robot. That’s a hard chunk of hypocrisy to swallow.

Latest compromise was so much for me to give. So far from once a month, I’ve backpedaled all the way to twice a week, as long as he doesn’t drink. How could that be too much to ask? I love him as the person, and I love his hobbies, and our morals match, and he’s fun to talk to, and he’s fun to be around, and our sex is like magic, and he’s the most affectionate man I’ve ever met, and he can learn anything he puts his mind to, so why, why, why isn’t this working?

I’m starting to think that it isn’t me who wants too much, it’s him. I think he’s still feeling cheated on the aspect of not fucking other girls. He says that he doesn’t care about fucking other girls, but then why does he bring it up everyday? Why does he write about it? It’s not as though he’s going to find any other girl who wants an open relationship. I stopped being able to handle it because I love him so much, doesn’t he understand that?

Of course fucking other girls is just a drop in the bucket. The major thing is his friends. If twice a week with his friends isn’t enough... Then that leaves me wondering what he really wants for himself. Perhaps all this talking about aspiring to be some great artist is just that... Talk. Then again I don’t see him at work all day drawing and tattooing. I feel so left out of the picture. Sometimes I don’t even feel like I’m a part of his life. I feel like I have no influence on him at all. He always has some realization about his life while he’s at work, never while he’s with me...

Surely my love is worth what I’m asking for? And if it isn’t to most people, then surely it is to someone. The question is, is it worth it to my boyfrined? I really don’t think it is. I don’t think I’m worth it to him. That’s the real crux of the problem. Who the hell knows why. For goodness sakes, giving up drinking and coming home to me more often than going out is all I’m really asking for here. Everything else would be the same for him or much worse if he was on his own. He wants to get laid more often, but I seriously doubt he could get laid more often from another girl, or while being single.

I don’t understand it. Maybe he just doesn’t really want a relationship. Maybe he’s just looking for sex? He’s also said/written that he wants a companion, but apparently El makes a better companion than me. I feel like meeting me was enough for him. Perhaps meeting me justified his personality, fantasies, wants, and thoughts and now he can move on alone?

How can I be so difficult to deal with? How is that possible? I do woman’s work, I’m inspired in the bed, I’m talkative and I’m quiet, I’ll watch TV, or not, either way is fine. I can be at my computer, I can be on the bed, I can go for a walk. I’m not even that picky about what we do. Sure, I’m picky about what I eat, and what music I listen to, and what I watch on TV, and what I write and read, but none of that really affects Crusifer other than the music. So I can’t stand rap... So what? He’s got an ipod and he’s got twelve hours away from me every single day. Why should I have to listen to it while he’s here? He can’t seriously consider that a disadvantage to being with me, can he?

He says my body is perfect for him. He says I’m the only woman he’d be willing to have kids with. He says he wants to marry me. He says a lot of things, so then why does he write that he’s not sure he wants our relationship to continue? He’s not sure if I’m worth it. And why? Because I ask for affection? Because I don’t want him to drink? This is just plain ridiculous.

I’m not going to give in anymore. I’m already crunching my feelings to offer all that I have. I’m not going any further. Dealing with his work hours is enough. I’m not going to let him drink. I will not marry a drinker, and if that means not marrying my boyfriend than that’s that. It makes me sick to my stomach, and it makes me angry, and it makes me sad, and it makes me depressed. Christ it makes me feel worthless! A goddamned bottle of fermented crap with sugar thrown in is better than a whole goddamned person!

How can he continue to choose drugs and partying over me? What the fuck am I thinking? A year and four months... No, a year and five months and he still hasn’t quit? I’ve got to be stupid! I should... I should have just broken up with him the first time I said I’d do it if he kept drinking. Why am I so blasted forgiving? At this rate I’ll be married and have kids to a drunk. Aha, that’s why it’s gone on so long, because I keep giving him credit for not getting drunk. Well hell with being drunk, why can’t he quit cold turkey? Why can’t he just be done with it? He can’t be serious about marrying me. He can’t be.

I can’t believe this. I’m so stunned. But little by little over the last month it’s starting to hit me. Between the lies I’ve caught him in, and the drinking that hasn’t ended, the broken compromises, the meaningless arguments, the repetitive conversations, his avoidance of important topics, his coldness, his quickness to accuse me, his lack of trust of me... It’s really starting to occur to me that this isn’t working out, and I want to deny it, but that would be foolish, and getting myself into this was foolish enough...

No, I haven’t given up, but I don’t know what my next move is. If I was a different woman I’d just dump him today. I’m not that sort of woman though. I’m the type that’s too stupid to realize that men don’t really change. I’d like to believe that they do, but maybe they don’t. Or at least, men don’t change for someone unless than someone is themselves.

I feel like I should go puke. I also feel like I should jump out the window. I also feel like I should forget everything I just wrote. I feel like I should call him, and scream at him, and bribe him, and placate him, and treat him like a king, and tell him he’s a piece of shit who doesn’t deserve me...

Friday, April 25th 2008 at 2:16pm

Everything bubbled to the surface last night. All the pent up worry and fear and emotions smoothed out into a stream of liquid words.

“I feel worthless when you chose to drink over being with me. I feel like I am less than a mere bottle of alcohol,” I told him.

“I need to you to prove to me that you really want me long before we get married. And I’m not going to wait for years while you get yourself together,” I told him.

“My father paid less and less attention to me from the cusp of my puberty. He started drinking more and more often around the same time after having quit for years. I don’t want to see my children neglected in the same way,” I told him.

Crusifer doesn’t actually cry, but he goes into a state where his voice changes in pitch, and his cheek muscles rearrange, and his chin pushes up. He looks miserable wearing this expression, especially because I know that’s about as miserable as he ever allows himself to look.

“There is no point in making more promises, that I may or may not keep, so I could either quit and things may then work out, or I could not quit, and we may break up. Let’s just leave it at that,” he said.

“There is no point in me consoling you with my words,” he said.

“I can do it right this time. Are we done talking about breaking up now?” he said.

“I won’t drink any more. I promise. Really, I won’t,” he said.

I go mad as he touches me, verging on tears, grasping him, afraid, nervous, partly relieved, partly comforted, and simply mad with love and lust and fear. We kiss each other, hold each other, talk and go quiet, and talk again, and go quiet again.

“Do you have anything you wish to say to all of this?” I ask.

“I’m thinking,” he replies.

And we’re quiet again.

I scratch him, I groom him, I rub his back, I clean his nails. I give him soft kisses all over, and he touches the back of my head tenderly, the way he knows I like, the way he knows comforts me.

“All of this time,” I say, “I’ve trusted you one hundred percent. I’ve put faith in us getting married one hundred percent. I’ve held nothing back. I’ve given you everything. I haven’t doubted you, and I’ve forgiven you, and I’ve given you second chances. From the beginning of our relationship I’ve given and given and given, and shrugged my shoulders thinking that you’d pay me back. I’m still waiting for my payback. Sure, a laptop is a huge sign of commitment. Buying me things is nice, but when I think about the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for me I think of the letter you wrote me, the one like a poem with a porcupine on it. I think of the two drawings you drew for me. I think of the time you made me cereale with too much milk in a large bowl with way more than I could really eat.”

“But you still doubt me,” I say, “You haven’t invested in one hundred percent. You don’t fully trust me. You still think I lie to you. You still believe I could make fun of you. You still believe you need your backup plans, your friends, your drinking. And it’s making me stop feeling like I should put my one hundred percent in. I feel like I’m a fool to continue trusting you, to continue loving you and believing in you.”

And so we try again to start again. And so we make love. This whole discussion took place by candlelight. The entire time I rubbed him, soothed him, stroked him, groomed him, and then we made love. It was like the first time I slept with him, only much, much, much better. Every worry was banished. I came twice, then he did. Then we cuddled, made chicken wings, and he ate me out to another orgasm even better than the first two. We ate chicken and I had lima beans too. We drew together, and we smiled again, and laughed again, with no TV, the way things should be.

Sunday, April 27th 2008 at 2:34pm

So I wash my hair in the sink downstairs, after dealing with soot covered boxes for over an hour. I decided to wash my hair because I had washed and washed and washed my hands and arms, only to discover that they were still discolored. Perhaps washing my hair (the shampoo, the longer exposure to water) would clean them further, and also, get my hair clean. The lack of having a bathtub and fully functional bathroom in general makes the discovery of having clean hair like a miracle. The silky smoothness of it against my face is incredible after being so dirty.

So I say to my fiancé, “Look at my hair, it’s so silky. Touch it. Touch it!” I offer it to my fiancé, getting my head close to his hands as he sits as his computer.

“It’s just hair,” he says. I frown as he doesn’t touch me. Am I silly for wanting to appreciate this small miracle or he being cynical (or mean? or neglectful?) for not appeasing me by touching it and appreciating it with me?

He sits there downloading porn, and I sit here working on “our” game design. I say “our” because many of the ideas are his, I put “our” in quotations because I’ve most certainly done more work on this design than him. I feel so smart when I work on the game design. I’m amazed at my own wealth of ideas over and over again. I’m amazed at how much I know, the vastness of my own vocabulary, the numerous resources at my disposal with my gaming experience, the internet and the synonyms that my word processor has to offer. I amaze myself at the efficiency at which I can make use of these resources and put them together.

Him and I overuse the word “genius” and so I say, “I’m such a genius” looking at my own charts. All my work, which I can’t make use of because I don’t have a degree, because I don’t have the requisite experience, because you have to work from the bottom up, because everyone has ideas, and so on and so forth. I want someone to appreciate it. I want someone to work on it with. Who better than my love? So I say to him, “Aren’t I genius? Isn’t this nifty? Isn’t it cool how I thought about that? Babe, come on,” I say giggling, “pat me on the head,” I offer him my head, obviously being a goof-ball, “pat me on the head and say I’m a genius.”

“You’re being annoying,” he says.

And with that statement I’m dumbstruck. My ideas are not genius, they are annoying. It takes me several minutes to realize that of course it’s not my ideas that are annoying, obviously is constantly asking him to look, look, look at me, my ideas, and me again. I’m such an attention whore that I disgust myself. But what’s wrong with wanting his attention? Am I such an alien?

On a totally different topic I saw Tre for the first time in over a year yesterday. I expected to feel odd, displaced, upset, or possibly turned on, but surprisingly I felt utterly nothing. Just amused that he does exist, amused that I was with him in the past, amused that he’s married to Danya. I should have asked to see his ring, I never noticed. I was too busy talking and looking at his car. He’s got a nice car now, unlike the hunk of junk he was driving when we were together. He’s almost got his associates degree now. He’s doing well, but I’m still glad I’m not with him. Oh the multitude of problems I had with him, and it still makes my relationship with...

Now I’m a retard. All the way from genius to annoying to retard in less than half an hour. I have to lock my journal now, because Crusifer doesn’t want “his shit on Broadway.” For years I’ve been told I can’t write about this stuff. For years I’ve been slapping everyone in the face with the raw truth about myself and my life, and now, I lock it up for him. I hope I’m not wasting my time on this nigga, because I’m sick of feeling the way over him, waiting for the “good times” when they come... For shorter and shorter periods of time, less and less often.

Sunday, April 27th 2008 at 10:09pm

(These are real quotes between Crusifer and I, but bear in mind that in all three of them we’re kidding more than we are serious... Well, okay, about as serious as we are kidding.)

“In your pictures you look so young. Now you’re old and wrinkly with titties flapping in the wind,” he said to me.

“Denial is key,” he says.
“Sure is sweetie,” I reply, “Denial is key to breakups.”

“You could just stay here and draw,” he says.
“No, I can’t,” I reply. “You see there is this little voice in my head, and it says ‘don’t you want to go be with Crusifer? Don’t you want his prescience? His smell? Don’t you want to be near him and hear every sound he makes?’ and I reply to that voice passionately; I do, I do, I do!”

Monday, April 28th 2008 at 8:40pm

Letter to a girl with a blog,

I bet you everything I own, every cent to my name, and my body, flesh, health and love that if you changed your diet, your entire life would change.

You are what you eat, literally.

It's not about how much you eat, it's about what you eat, plain and simple. And if you only eat things that are truly good for you then you will never become over weight, and you'd never fall underweight either.

How do I know? I was 155lbs, and I was depressed, and I was miserable, and I hated myself and my life. I was lazy, and I started smoking pot on top of it. My memory went to hell, my self respect went to hell. I was losing myself and everything, including my health and my body. I had muscle cramps, head aches, and then I started getting terrible stomach aches, I started burping, and the burping became painful. This went on for over a year of my life.

I knew I had to do something, but what? The first thing I did was dump my abusive boyfriend. That was a good start, but it wasn’t enough. I was less depressed, and I was less moody, and my memory improved, but I was still depressed, moody and my memory was still terrible, it was just better than it had been. But the most concerning was the pain in my stomach when I woke up every morning. The painful burping that went on all day everyday.

I read an article about what sugar does to the body by Dr. Mark Hyman, and that was the beginning of my path to a whole different life. I started by eliminating High Fructose Corn Syrup from my diet. I lost five pounds, I started sleeping better, and I found that I had much more energy. Though the stomach aches and burps continued. Because Dr. Mark Hyman’s article helped me, I read more of his work. He said to try eliminating all sugar, all bread, all meat and all dairy for one week, and also to take long relaxing baths, and to reflect everyday in a journal.

I tried it. It was hard to figure out what to eat at first. I ate lima beans, potatoes, tortilla chips, and fresh fruit at first, because I didn’t know about all the organic options out there. I lost another ten pounds, gained a boost of energy, and the stomach aches went away completely, and the burps reduced dramatically. I slept through the nights, my depression receded, the health of my skin and hair improved. I felt like a new woman, and I became more confident.

I fell in love again with a wonderful man, one who isn’t abusive. I was 140lbs then, and I still wasn’t in the best of shape, but I was doing so much better that I felt on top of the world. I stopped eating out. I stopped smoking pot, which made me able to remember so many things that I couldn’t believe what good memory I actually do have! I quit eating white bread and pasta for good. I replaced milk with rice milk and almond milk and added organic granola to my diet. I added long-grain brown rice to my white rice with organic chicken dinner. I added orange juice and water to my fridge and drank as much fluid as I can. I started taking two-hour long baths where I meditated and reflected on my life, often by candle light. I quit drinking as well.

I lost another ten pounds, gained another boost of energy, and began to start seeing life as a challenge that I could handle. I became a person that I loved. I became more creative and got back into my artwork. I was more interested in being active, and less lazy.

I’m 125lbs now, and I eat all day as much as I want. I eat salads, potatoes, yams, lima beans, chickpeas, carrots, peppers, organic granola with rice milk or almond milk, tortilla chips, rice crisps, other organic chips (with no added sugars), all kinds of fresh fruits, all kinds of teas, home-made popcorn, corn-based spaghetti, grass-fed organic meat, grass-fed organic yogurt, and the list of wonderful foods goes on. And I will tell you personally, what you eat makes all the difference in how you feel and look. It changes everything.

Try one week, like I did. If you’re not impressed, then go back to life the way it is now.

Birth Control & Candy Hearts

Sunday, February 17th 2008 at 3:53pm

My boyfriend is being very cooperative today. We cleaned together. We stood up the futon on it’s end, cleaned out everything from under the bed (mostly My boyfriend’s hair and various pairs of my panties) and swept, and mopped. I rearranged my crafting table, he rearranged his office space. I didn’t do anything with my desk, but it’s still a large improvement to the room.

What’s even better is he danced with me when I put the music on. We listened to his music for a while, and then my music for a while, and then I requested silence and he complied. So in short, the day is going well. And despite how much I probably should write a real entry, I’m going to play Diablo II with him... *sigh*

Monday, February 18th 2008 at 1:52am

My boyfriend and I are trying to remember what happened Wednesday so we can put it on the chart. But neither of us can remember for sure. It’s hilarious. There is no journal entry from either of us on that day, and no other evidence either of us can come up with as to what we did. This is the only thing I have, (from my hours record): “Requested more adds. Found more staff for party. Created more packets. Designed new site.”

Interesting that would be all there is. Interesting...

Monday, February 18th 2008 at 1:41pm

I feel that yesterday brought My boyfriend and I closer. We discussed a number of important matters pertaining to our relationship and lives in general.

Hm, the granola I just ate... Is oddly making me feel very sick to my stomach. I hate to lay back down again... So much I want to accomplish today that has naught to do with the Social Club for once. I’m most certainly taking this day off from that. It’s tempting to simply read my book until I’m finished. The last few chapters of “Breath and Bone” are but a few hours reading time away from completion. I don’t want the book to end.

Oh good, my stomach doesn’t seem as unsettled as I thought. Come to think of the Social Club I come to realize there is a meeting next Monday I have yet to mark on the website. Alan is supposed to meet with us.

My boyfriend doesn’t want me to be involved with this Social Club anymore. Saturday night I cried for a long time, retelling the stories of the things that happened Friday night after I had left everything in the supposedly capable hands of my staff. Attempted suicide. Broken doors. Broken wall. Stolen CDS. Stolen chips. Broken doorknob. Soda all drank. Trash everywhere. Etc.

I was so upset that no one had followed directions. The bouncers were the ones that needed bouncing. The supervisors needed supervision. The coordinator needed coordination. The food servers ate the food they were supposed to protect from been overly eaten. It was ridiculous.

My boyfriend says he wants to provide for me...

*ring, ring, ring* Some idiot calling me on my My boyfriend phone, instead of my Social Club phone. I called them back on my Social Club phone. It was one of my staff who failed terribly. One of my Supervisors. Heh. She wanted to know when the next meeting is. Friday at 5:00pm I said. I need to post that on our site...

Monday, February 18th 2008 at 2:03pm

Think twice about Sugar!

"Be mine." "Hot stuff." "Kiss me."

Cute messages of love on a classic Valentine's Day candy – the biggest selling sweet other than chocolate for February 14th.

But not the sweetest message you could give to the planet, or your body. Here are the top three reasons why Valentine's conversation hearts are not eco-friendly:

#1 – Sugar

Did you know that sugar production around the world is damaging natural treasures like the Great Barrier Reef off Australia's coast and the Everglades wetlands in Florida?

According to WWF International, 121 countries produce the annual 145 tons of sugar the world eats. And unfortunately, this sugar cane and sugar beets are grown with plenty of pesticides and create toxic runoff into soil and water.

The Sugarcane Production and Environment Report (PDF) notes that it takes a whopping 1,500-3,000 liters of water to produce just 1 kg of sugar. Refining factories regularly belch out soot, ash, and other solids, while ammonia is released during sugar processing.

Better management practices could make sugar a cleaner product. But until cane growers agree to be sustainable, consumers might want to make more informed choices.

It'd be great if we could find more fair-trade sugar, but in the meantime, it's not a bad idea to cut back on sugar. Easier on the waistline, not to mention the intestines, anyway.

#2 – Corn syrup

Next in the original recipe for Necco's Sweethearts Conversation Hearts is corn syrup. Now, we're not positive if this is the awful high-fructose corn syrup that's in so many of our processed foods (and has been directly linked to the American obesity crisis – if you didn’t know, one in three of us is over-weight and headed for diabetes, cancer or alzheimer's at a shocking rate). But any kind of corn syrup has little to recommend it.

Corn is massively over-farmed and subsidized in the U.S., (with the US government spending 30 billion a year to make it) and this is causing a host of environmental problems right on our doorstep. Grist points out that corn farmers pour 10 billion pounds of fertilizer on their fields every year, and this junk washes down the Mississippi River into the Gulf of Mexico. The waste creates a giant algae bloom known as the "Dead Zone" that kills fish and marine plants.

#3 – Gelatin

Number three in the recipe and the third reason these seemingly innocent treats aren't so innocent for the eco-minded. This is the stuff we usually associate with wiggly-jiggly Jello. Gelatin is often used in candies and desserts as a stabilizer or to simulate the mouth-feel of fat.

If you weren't aware of it already, gelatin comes from animals. Specifically, it's the boiled-down collagen from connective tissues, bones, and skin of cattle and pigs.

As we've noted before, raising livestock for food is pretty inefficient and produces far more greenhouse gases than eating a plant-based diet. You don't have to be hardcore about it – just cutting back on animal products a few days each week for a more flexitarian lifestyle is earth-friendly.

Instead of candy hearts...

Want some alternatives to those candies? If you're the sentimental type, buy a pack of recycled-content pink construction paper, cut it into big heart shapes, and write your own sweet messages on each heart.

Scatter them around your Valentine's house, tuck one in your love's briefcase or purse, sneak one in the car before your loved one drives off to work – this will be a Valentine's Day to remember!

Or if your babe prefers something edible, go for fair-trade or organic chocolates. That'll guarantee a gift that's rich, decadent, and sweet on Mother Earth too. (Not to mention won’t send your loved one into inflamation of the gut, or the gene-altering cycle that sugar causes within our blood stream leading us towards chronic diseases!)

For your wife or girlfriend you also might want to try running a warm bath with rose petals and scented oils and heating up their towel in the dryer. Much more romantic than cheap candies that hurt the earth and body!

For your husband or boyfriend you also could try greeting him at the door, taking his coat, shoes, scarf, hat, gloves (etc) and leading him into the dinning room where you have prepared a home cooked candle-lit dinner with organic meats, fresh or steamed vegetables, and brown rice. This will not only be a great alternative to candy, but it will also be healthy, romantic, and eco-friendly!

Monday, February 18th 2008 at 2:52pm

Nathan,

It’s not that I couldn’t give the virtual ring back at the time, it’s that he didn’t want it back anymore because he was mad at me for taking it. Yes, I’m aware that game items can be sold for money, but neither My boyfriend or I am involved in such things.

As for living on my own, the thought frightens me and excites me both. But my parents are rather agreeable. I think my presence here helps, and I know the presence of my mother helps me.

Hallie,

I’ve actually considered that before. That perhaps Brianna left My boyfriend because My boyfriend was sexist and winy or whatever. But she did do some fucked up thinks, according to My boyfriend, of course. For example, when their baby was born and he came to the hospital, she told him he shouldn’t have come, without explanation. She spent more time with her friends than she did with him. (He realizes now that he’d been doing the same to me which made him change his ways quite a bit over the past month.) And while she might not have been a total bitch, she wasn’t affectionate or kinky in the ways that My boyfriend is, so it would have been hard for her to ever understand or accept him, or for him to do likewise for her.

I can see why she left him based on the character My boyfriend has described of her. She was undoubtedly bored. My boyfriend loves computers, video games, art, sex and affection. She loved socializing, partying, getting fucked up, and talking. She was a Christian, and he is a Satanist (or so he calls himself anyway), which of course would never work. From my perspective, their pairing was as bad as mine with Travanti. Simply would never work no matter how you look at it.

On the other topic you commented about a while back... I probably am not an emotionally healthy adult yet. After all, I have not been single since I was eleven, and I’ve been thinking that this means that I have never known myself as just myself. I’ve always been me and someone else for as long as my memory can really stretch.

Just last night I was thinking that our relevant memory lasts about a year. Because now I find it difficult to recall many things about Tre. I don’t remember what the arguments were really like, or how the ups and the downs of the relationship really went. All my relevant memories are consumed by My boyfriend. I was thinking that without having a year of being single, I have forgone ever having all of my relevant memories being of self, and only self. Chances are, based on that, that I will never be emotionally independent as most young women become at this point in their life.

I can’t see how my parents really affect that any further. I see my mom a lot, yes. We talk everyday, and we go places together, but for the most part, I feel like going downstairs is visiting her, and like her coming upstairs is visiting me. It’s as though this really is an apartment for me. But, you’re right that I’m not an emotional independent adult, I just think it has more to do with my lack of being single than my lack of living away from home.

Newlywedbliss,

Glad to have your input. I hope to hear more from you in the future.

Tater,

As you’ve probably already read, My boyfriend and I moving anywhere is an unlikely event at this point in time. My boyfriend and I have been thinking along the lines of finishing this house once for all, buying it from my parents and keeping it after they’re gone and raising our kids here. It’s not set in stone, but it’s the plan for now.

Monday, February 18th 2008 at 3:08pm

I simply don’t know what to do about birth control. I started out on the pill when I was 11 or 12 or so. At first it seemed okay. But I kept forgetting to take them, causing my period to come off schedule. I wasn’t aware then of my body’s reaction to everything I ingested, so the only things I noticed were that when I forgot to take it, and took double that sometimes I would get cramps, or bleed-through, and for some odd reason they suddenly started to make me nauseated.

The little round green thing was so small, but it bothered me more than the large white calcium. I couldn’t stand it’s sugary smell, or the texture of the small smooth thing on my tongue. Without juice I refused to take it. I began to hate the things, and loathe taking them.

When the patch came out when I was fourteen or so, I was delighted. All I had to do was change it once a week and I was home free! Three patches a month, how much simpler could it be? I noticed no difference in sexual appetite, no difference in moods. Just seemed like it was harmless.

Maybe my body changed over the years of maturing in such a way that my body started to disagree with the thing. My breasts grew after changing to the patch, which I hadn’t realized was a direct result. They swelled and then, around a year ago when I met My boyfriend they started to hurt. I was 17 at the time, and hadn’t noticed how much they hurt to be touched until starting off in a new relationship full of affection.

Oddly, after wearing them for so long I started forgetting to change them on time too. Who knows why. This only made matters worse I assume.

A mystery hit me when I had sex with My boyfriend for around the sixth or seventh time and it hurt terribly. I had never felt it hurt like that except during a yeast infection and assumed that was what it was. Online friends confirmed that often they would get a yeast infection when changing partners, so I assumed that’s what it was. Though fear of a genital disease plagued me.

I went to get it checked out and to my complete confusion I did not have an STD, or a yeast infection. So why did it hurt to use the bathroom and to have sex? Why did I spend a week crying in the bathtub trying not to scratch?

It went away and stayed away for months so I assumed that what ever it was, was gone for good. I nearly forgot about it until it happened again. And the second time it seemed to never go away. I waited for three weeks to have sex again, but within two or three times of having sex it was hurting again. I made another visit to the GYN and they said the same thing, no yeast, no disease.

So why did it feel like my insides were on fire?

I tried waiting it out over and over again, but every time it came back. We got down to having sex once a week, at times. It was embarrassing. Coriver thought I was exaggerating the level of pain, but I wasn’t.

I asked the doctor then about the breast soreness the next time I came in, practically given up on the fire in between my legs that had no answer. She said that the breast pains could very well be caused by the patch. She suggested pills and I refused. She suggested the shot and I refused. She showed me the new item, the nueva ring, which is a flexible insert.

At first I was elated. It was easy to put in, easy to take out, and I only needed one a month! One week into it, the spot on the inside that gives me pleasure seemed to disappear. “No pleasure in sex anymore, sorry!” The ring seemed to say. And then, on top of it, with each day to follow it began to hurt more and more. It seemed to get hotter than normal inside, and my skin felt raw exactly where the ring was located on the inside.

Disgusted, angry, and upset discussed it with My boyfriend, and we decided to be rid of it. Since I already had a follow-up scheduled for January of 2008 I didn’t bother to go in. Instead we tried condoms.

Ha. That was a fine idea, wasn’t it? You would think that. Except that no matter how wet I got the friction seemed to sop all of it up, and My boyfriend’s wetness could not aid me at all. It caused even more pain. Yes, yes, I know there all kinds of lubricants out there, but they don’t smell or taste like sex, and neither My boyfriend or I want anything to do with them. By the time you have a condom and fake juices, what’s left to enjoy!?

We spent a blissful couple of months using the not-so-recommenced pull-out method. My sex drive seemed to become normal again. My moods balanced out over some time, and I felt more alive. My breasts shrunk down to their normal size and stopped hurting entirely! And the fire between my legs was finally gone. It was indeed the birth control all along! I was free, I was happy. Even my sleep was better.

So I go into my appointment in January and to my dismay I am prescribed with pills, because what else can I do? I set my phone alarm to remind me to take them. I’ve not forgotten them thus far. But to my utter disgust, just under two weeks into taking them, last night, we go to have sex, and for no apparent reason my insides hurt, and burn. Every stroke makes it worse until I burst into tears, and jerk away. The nauseating sensation was bad enough every time I took the pill, but I will not tolerate having extremely slow sex once a week because anything else will feel like knives. That’s just ludicrous!

What good is birth control if I can’t have sex while I’m on it? What good are condoms if they turn pleasure into pain as well? I feel hopeless to please My boyfriend now, or even myself.

Needless to say, I didn’t take my pill last night. I don’t know what I’m going to do.

Monday, February 18th 2008 at 3:51pm

I almost forgot to mention some other disturbing experiences since I started the pill. I've been extremely tired, and I now notice looking back on it that I slept tons better while I was off of birth control completely. I also notice that this has increased my appetite and that I've been suddenly craving foods I have not even thought about eating in a long time (like potato chips, pizza, french fries, hamburgers, chicken nuggets and white rice) and it's also made me feel this odd sort of distance from the world.

I would brush all of that off as being "all in my head" except for the fact that I didn't expect any of those things to happen, but all of those things did happen, and I couldn't figure out why, and then I suddenly realized that it all began about two days into taking the pill.

I'm not supposed to react to it for much longer than that, but then again, my mom cuts her caffeine pills into quarters, and if she takes one of those quarter-pills too late into the day she can't sleep. Let's remember than her and I share half of our genetics.

This world and it's creations often disgust me, especially at times like these. I feel poisoned.