Caloric Oblivion

Oh God, the candy. So much candy. My sweet tooth cannot be restrained on days like today. I have had an unholy amount of bad, fatty, sugary, deliciously evil food. In fact, I have three Butterfingers in front of me begging to be eaten.

On days such as today, I put aside my weird counting and weighing habits and just eat without guilt. I fucking love candy. The way to my heart is not an expensive sushi dinner, it is a king-sized pack of Reeces Cups. Kit Kats are also effective.

I spent all of tonight working a closing shift, so candy is also a good outlet for my frustration at not being able to go to parties or even trip acid and watch horror movies like I know my boyfriend is doing right now. Tremendous sigh. Being responsible is yucky. But you know what's not yucky? Chocolate. 

I'll probably feel like absolute death tomorrow due to glucose overload, but who cares? I can eat salad whenever. I can't eat ghost Peeps or orange Kit Kats any other time of year.

OM NOM NOM NOM :3

Happy Halloween, kiddos. Have sex or get drunk or something.


Julia

BITCH, I'M PIKACHU

Fuck everything, I'm just going to continue posting as usual. SO. Rave post, let's go.

This Saturday, I went to a huge Halloween rave, which was fun and ravetastic. I dressed up as Pikachu, and Technicolor boy was a pokemon trainer. Super classy bathroom mirror picture:

 

Taken in Technicolor Boy's nasty boy bathroom. Side note: they need to get some estrogen in that house (or at least a gay) to keep shit clean, because he and all of his roomies are messy as hell.

You can't see my awesome matching tail, black thigh-highs with red bows, or gogo boots, but those were also part of the full outfit. Pika pika, bitch. Also, dat kandi! Damn, sometimes I impress myself with the amount of kandi I own.

I loved my jingly skirt. I definitely attracted a bit of a crowd a few times while dancing because the jingly bits always fly around and shine when I shake my ass. I always find the attention that I get from guys at raves more amusing than flattering, but poor Technicolor Boy was not amused.  

Anyway, the show was pretty awesome and I'm going to try to find other pictures from it.

Afterwards, Technicolor Boy and I went to an after party that was basically all rolling kids sitting in a basement, so we dipped out of that pretty quickly, but ended up having to drive for two hours to get all the way back to Fort Collins, so that kind of sucked.

I've spent the majority of today watching It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia cuddled up with Technicolor Boy and his cat, so all-in-all, I'd say it was a pretty nice weekend.



Julia

500 Days of...?

Alright, hiatus over, one week was good enough for me.
Now that my stupid musical is done, I have a lot more time to do things so I feel less like violently beating every person I talk to. Well, slightly less. But, since I've decided that sitting on a couch and talking to a PhD isn't really helping things, I think I must inevitably come back to blogging. The sad truth is that I feel more comfortable sharing my occasionally deeply twisted inner shit with strangers on the internet than with a licensed therapist. Oh well.

My days have boiled down to a good day/bad day binary (with the inclusion of super good days and horrible days, akin to the system used by Christopher in "The Mysterious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime") The ratio of good days to bad days has been increasing, so I think that the addition of several hours of free time to my life every day is helping me to not act so aggressively so often. Granted, there are still bad days, when I don't eat and smoke too much and make brutal remarks constantly, but I haven't had one all week.

Also, I am working a fuck ton, so I'm perpetually exhausted and have less energy to be depressed. I am also freaking the fuck out over my college applications and trying desperately to hold my shit together at school which has resulted in my being too preoccupied with my academic fate to give my emotions any time to run wild. I am also dealing with car issues (which I will elaborate upon at a later date) which are just distracting. On top of all of this, I am pretty sure that either my uterus or appendix has gone rogue and is trying to escape my body by punching through the skin of my lower abdomen, and despite two doctor visits this week, I have no idea what is going on down there and they haven't even given me any painkillers.

Wow, I'm three paragraphs in and I haven't even gotten to the point of this post.

This is the point: This is my 500th post!
In celebration, I am thinking I will either do a video blog or a Q&A or something as my 501th post because this one has ended up being very update-y. So, please, if you care to, leave a comment with either questions or suggestions, and I'll get my shit together and make my 501th post an egotistical masterpiece.

I have to go take 40 pages of psychology notes now. Glory.

At least I have a cute boyfriend who lets me steal his t shirts. I don't think I've slept in my own clothing for months now...

ANYWAY. Coming soon to this blog:
-Halloween rave pictures (I'm dressing up as Pikachu)
-Collegiate stress
-Hair dye adventures
-Possibly another short story?
Oh yeah, get stoked.



Julia

Nobody Can Handle the Heat

Sigh.
I am pushing absolutely everyone away. At first, I thought that this was a bad thing, and I decided to try to surrender my spicy demeanor for the sake of salvaging friendships. I have been unsuccessful at holding my tongue. I simply cannot do it; if I have something to say, I will say it. If I am feeling particularly aggressive, woe be to those who annoy me in the slightest.

I have made two people cry this week and it is only Monday.

I am really getting bored with hearing about how I am (and I am quoting a very close friend here) a "heartless, emotionless bitch" and "intimidating" and "poisonous to be around"

This is not news to me. My dwindling viciousness has rejuvenated itself and returned tenfold. It is loud and pissed off. I don't really have the energy to try to hold it back anymore. 

It's not like I'm proud to be this way, but this is how I am. I don't see any change on the horizon. I know that people generally cannot deal with this. Actually, nobody can deal with this. Nobody can handle the heat, so I'm left alone in the kitchen.

I am so ornately unhappy, and nobody can do a damn thing about it, myself included.


Julia


PS: Blogging hiatus starts now; it's for your own good. 

So I found this random photo of me that was taken for Westword Magazine (a Denver local publication) from Skylab. Bare in mind that this was taken in the middle of the dance floor of the main stage, after I had been dancing for hours and all my body paint had smudged due to sweat/inconsiderate people moshing. Also, my arm looks all weird because I think the dude was using a crappily adjusted fish-eye lense.

BUT. You can see my kandi and the basic idea of my outfit for the night, which was awesome before it got all smeared around. I know I look derpy. You dance for six hours straight and look sexy afterwards.

 

So yeah.

Conceited

I am going to be incredibly conceited for the next few minutes, because I have had the same situation repeat all day, like, six times total.


I am sorry, I cannot handle this anymore. I hate to sound full of myself, I really do, because there is nothing worse than someone who is not that attractive being conceited about themselves, and I know that I am not a ten/ten in the slightest. Unfortunately, I have been driven to conceit by the boys in my schools and online, so here is my conceited message. Sorry for the extreme egoism.




Dear boys,
I have a boyfriend. I have been monogamous to this boy for over six months now, and I intend to remain monogamous to him both sexually and emotionally for a good little bit. I am telling you outright that if you want me, you do not have a snowball's chance in Hell right now. I do not know what thought has wormed its way into your tiny, facile minds, but I am really sick of being hit on with the expectation that your efforts will go anywhere. Allow me to clarify some things:
-If I make polite conversation with you, it does not mean that I want to have sex.
-If I respond to a message from you, because it is polite to respond, it does not mean that I want to have sex.
-If I compliment you for any reason, it does not mean that I want to have sex.
-If I give you a hug, it does not mean that I want to have sex.
-If I do you a favor by covering for you, helping you with an issue, or fixing something for you, it does not mean that I want to have sex.
Seriously. Get over yourselves. Also, realize that I am completely committed to someone. While I am a guru of one night stands, I am not currently practicing my art; you will not be blessed with my presence in your bed anytime soon. I do not want you at all, possibly ever.
Stop it. Fucking stop it.
Sincerely,
Do not hit on me, damn it.


I'm sorry, I really am, I know that I sound like a total fucking crazy person. I'm just frustrated by the lack of respect for my relationship. Ugh.


Julia

Comments for People

Blogger is being a little dick right now. SO. I'm just going to give y'all my comments that Blogger won't let me post on your blogs.

All of these comments are on the most recent post on your blog, so if I mention you, that's what I'm talking about.

Lizzi: OH GURL. Your hair is so gorgeous! I am stoked that it is finally sweater weather again. Not stoked for snow, but I love sweaters, especially giant ones. Also, I'm really glad that you finally got a ship date and you know that you have a secure spot in the military :)

Christopher: Sounds like your production was a blasty blast. I demand pictures of you in costume, just saying.

Kirby: Girl, I don't know if Kirby is your real name, but I'm just going to call you that because it's adorable. I don't even know if you read my page still, but I hope you do! Anyway, as for what you're going through right now, I am pretty much going through the same thing. I've discovered that talking to people about my feelings helps, however uncomfortable. Maybe that will help you? Never feel like you've been taken for granted.

Antony: AWWW CUTE CONGRATS!

Phoenix: Why so much porn? Just why? I like your writing, but the amount of porn on your page makes it kind of hard to read, just saying.


Okie doke, that's it. I just wanted you kids to know that I still read and adore your blogs. I hope Blogger gets it's shit together soon.


Julia

Inches

I got a speeding ticket today. Even though the penalty on the ticket is small, I don't have enough points to spare and it's very likely that I'm going to lose my driver's license. My education, my job, my relationship, and my sanity all depend upon my ability to transport myself. I don't know what I'm going to do. I can't rely on my parents to drive me, but I don't want to burden my friends.

I pleaded with the cop, explaining that I was just trying to get to school, that I was momentarily not paying attention, that I didn't mean to go the measly 12 mph over that I was going. Evidently, sympathy was not gotten.

How am I supposed to get into Harvard if I can't get to class? How am I supposed to pay for food if I can't get to work? How am I supposed to remain functional at all if I can't get to therapy? My life has literally just been torn apart, and it's all because I wasn't paying attention. At least with terminal diseases, it's not your fault.

I can't do this anymore... Why do I do this?



Julia

Eating Habits

I've blogged about this sort of thing before, but I've been thinking about it all day. I am really sick of people telling me that I'm anorexic, so I'd like to clear the air.

Here's what's up:
I am tiny in every direction. I am short, I am skinny, and I have itsy-bitsy hands and feet. It's become a point of pride for me because I know that there is nothing that I can do to change my height or the size of my hands and feet, so I'd rather enjoy my tiny stature than feel insecure about it. My proudest tiny feature is my tiny weight, which fluctuates around 85 lbs, or about 6 stone for you Brits. I like my weight because the number itself tends to evoke a shocked reaction from people (which I get also from the size of my hands and feet) and I find it funny. I like being naturally tiny because of how people react to it.

It should be noted for the record:
My weight is proportionate to my height. While technically having an underweight BMI of 16.7, I feel healthy and energetic. Not a single medical doctor has said anything to me about needing to gain weight or change my eating in order to be healthy. I am not, nor have I ever been diagnosed with anorexia or any other eating disorder.

However, it should also be noted:
I do not have a stellar body image due to my body constantly being scrutinized while I did ballet. Part of being a serious dancer (or any other kind of athlete) is having complete body-awareness all of the time. I was conditioned to count calories, weigh myself daily, and to notice minute imperfections from a very young age, and that is something that has stayed with me. These habits are unconscious most of the time; it's something that I can't help doing. The fact that I am very conscious of my weight does not mean that I am consciously doing anything to change it in either direction.

These are my eating habits:
I generally eat one or two meals a day, not because I feel the need to consciously restrict myself, but because my busy schedule of school, rehearsal, and work restricts me. However, when I do eat, I eat whole meals, generally totaling around 1000 calories each. I know it's not ideal, but it's what I can manage right now, and my weight has stayed on a plateau. If one were to add up the amount of calories that I expend over the course of the day versus the amount of calories that I take in (which I did once during health class in ninth grade), one would see that, with the combination of my small body mass and low amount of daily strenuous physical activity, my body only requires 1100 calories a day to function and maintain the same weight.

Also, though my tiny tummy does have a larger internal capacity than most people expect, sometimes, that capacity is not available to be utilized. In other words, sometimes, I am just not hungry.

Here is what makes me angry:
Whenever someone alludes to my having an eating disorder, whether it be casually or seriously. A friend telling me to "eat more" or "put some meat on my bones". Overhearing the people around me making comments about me being "scary skinny" or "totally anorexic" for one reason or another. When people are genuinely surprised that I can put away a bacon cheeseburger in a matter of minutes and then want more, and then joke about not letting me go into the bathroom after a meal so that I can't throw up.

Excuse me?
I do not (nor will I ever) binge/purge. I think that buying and consuming food for the sole sake of puking it up is wasteful of both time and money and is absolutely disgusting. I do not starve myself. The fact that I sometime eat only one meal a day is due to a lack of time, not a lack of self-worth. While I have had a bit of a masochistic streak in years past (been dealt with, by the way), it has never taken any dietary form. My constant self-measurement is habitual and for the sake of knowing, not for the sake of changing.

When I danced, I knew many girls with legitimate, diagnosed eating disorders. As a point of clarification, it's not a real disorder unless it has been medically diagnosed. Skipping a few meals because you feel fat does not make you anorexic, it makes you stupid. Same deal with eating too much and then wanting to throw it up just to get the food out; it's not bulimia unless you do it compulsively for an extended amount of time.

I have seen eating disorders nearly take a few dear friends from me. An actual eating disorder is not about behavior alone, it's about the unconscious drives for perceived needs that manifest themselves in weird and unhealthy eating habits. When starvation is compulsive, every bite is an internal battle, bones are an achievement, numbers are never low enough, the ultimate goal is not to be pretty, but to be dead, food is always on one's mind, and there is a never-ending dialogue of self-hatred inside one's head, that is anorexia. It's seriously fucked up and can ruin lives; I've witnessed this.

I won't get into my feelings of disgust towards the fact the eating disorders, like every other serious issue, have been brought into the realm of comedy and complacency by pop culture. I find it sad that people will joke about eating disorders, along with rape and suicide, but I know that I can sometimes be a culprit, so the whole situation is fucked up in all directions and I shall say no more on that particular matter.

I will be the first to admit that I am not the paragon of healthy eating. Ideally, I should be eating more meals per day so that I can distribute my calorie intake more equally over the course of a day. I should also be eating healthier foods during my few opportunities for meals instead of the starchy crap that is most conveniently available. I know that this is unhealthy, but I don't feel unhealthy all the time. I am functional, comfortably fit, and live life normally.

I'm frustrated. I don't like it when people assume that I am skinny because I force myself to be. When people call me anorexic, it doesn't hurt, it just gets under my skin. I could so easily be anorexic. All of the ingredients are there, not to mention the fact that I already exhibit some anorectic tendencies. Every day, I walk a thin line between habit and compulsion when it comes to food, but I have the strength and strong enough sense of self to know better than to let myself fall.

What really annoys me is the motivation behind the insults. Like, when a big girl calls me anorexic because she wants to feel better about herself. It's not like there's a double standard here. I don't deliberately look skinny and she doesn't deliberately look fat. Insulting my weight to justify her own is not okay. You don't see me telling large people directly their faces that they are morbidly obese, or joking about how they don't really need that extra order of fries, or not letting them do something "for their own good". What makes it okay for anyone to say or do those things to me?

I will not apologize for taking pride in wearing size 00 jeans. I like that I am small in every way. Especially in the land of obesity that is this great country (that was a double entendre, in case you missed it), I will not be made to feel bad about having a weight that is on the opposite side of the spectrum from the majority of the populace.

I tend not to give a fuck about what people think about me, but when those opinions become mistreatment, that's when I get angry. What do these people expect? That they're going to call me bulimic and that I'm going to break and tell them it's true? Shouldn't the fact that I have a tight body merit compliments instead of contempt?

Gah. I am sick of being called sick.



Julia