Tuesday, 26 March 2013


The following is a reprint of the post I made on Chrystal Mahan's There is More to Life than Chocolate blog.  Her blog is definitely worth a look for anyone that is endeavoring to achieve a healthy lifestyle as well as for folks who like yummy low-carb recipes.

Me Too

Yes, I am a food addict too.  I am currently struggling with developing a healthy relationship with food.  I love to eat.  I love food.  I love almost all food.  There is hardly a food I've met that I didn't like.

I was thin growing up although I ate as much as I could when I was awake.  I too have summer memories of food binges.  A high school buddy and I would get together, walk to the store on the corner, and walk back with our own individual half gallon of ice cream.  We would sit in her bedroom, each of us holding our own box of ice cream and eat until they were gone.  

As I got into my twenties, the weight piled on gradually until I was thirty pounds overweight.  I lost that weight and then a bit more because I wasn't eating enough due to something personal happening that I could not cope with.  Needless to say, I gained it all back and then some.

I tried a stint in T.O.P.S.-- that stands for "Take Off Pounds Sensibly."  I did reach my goal weight and maintained it for over a year.  But the pounds came creeping back.  Right now I am about seventeen pounds over my goal weight.

The thing that bothered me while I was in TOPS was the tendency of some of the members, myself included, to eat much less for a couple of days before weigh-ins.  To me, this smacked of eating-disordered behavior.  I was dissatisfied.  I didn't like this thing I was doing in order to try to maintain my goal weight.

So I have quit TOPS for the time being and am working hard to establish healthy eating habits everyday.  I know that eating like I always ate for four days and then eating hardly anything for three days is not the way to a healthy relationship with food.  I am disappointed that I am above my goal weight.  I am hopeful that by doing what I have to do in order to eat smart every day, I will achieve my goal weight and stick to it without engaging in eating-disordered behavior.  It may take a bit longer this way but that is alright.

I am striving to do this in a healthier way than I have been.  For that I endorse myself as I continue to grapple with food.


Monday, 25 March 2013

Searching for Wally

"Is your name Wally?" she looked at him indirectly, face tilted to the left as if shielding her eyes from a too-bright sun.  "No," he said, and went back to reading the book he had pulled from the sports section.  She shrugged and stumbled out into a driving rain.

"I'm looking for Wally.  Do any of you know where he is?" she said to no one listening waiting for the bus in the crudely constructed shelter which sat out of the rain but out of the reach of cars ripping through puddles.  No one continued smoking and chattering aimlessly as if an icy wind had whipped through along with some garbage.

"Where's Wally?" she demanded of the priest who came to the rectory door one night as dessert was being cleared away.  "Dammit, where is he?"  She went to kick the door in but he was too fast for her, having braced himself for just such an attack.  "Father, forgive her.  For she knows not what she doeth."

"Wally.  Wally," she mumbled at the desk sarge.  "I can't find Wally."  Wearily, he shuffled through some papers.  "When did you see him last, Ma'am?"  He pushed a missing person's report through the small window to her and a pen without a cap.  She took the papers and the pen and left without a word.  She spied a butt can outside the door, set the crumpled up pages on fire on the top with a lighter she had found along with some wire scrub pads back in the park across the street from the police station.  She was seized by a sudden emotion.  "Fuck you Wally and the ho you came out of!" she screamed, the harshness of her voice bouncing off the concrete.  She dropped the pen in as an afterthought.

She ran to the left, away from the station and the park where all of the crack heads hung out making love to their glass dicks.  She ducked into an alley and dropped through a basement window out of sight.

Time passed in spite of herself.  The next morning the sun rose as if she had never lived.  The man at the bookstore continued to peruse the sports section for inspiration, no one started on the last pack of cigarettes at the bus stop, the priest made ready for early morning Mass, the desk sarge poured himself a cup of black coffee.  The papers she had set on fire had long since burned out.  The crack heads resumed their bleary posts in the park.  Everyone forgot her.  No one remembered that she had walked among them searching for Wally.  No one knew who Wally was.  No one really cared.  The world kept it's planetary rotation.  And everything was the same as it was the day before and always.

Wednesday, 6 March 2013

I Shouldn't Be Saying This

A my name is Azrael my lover's name is Aristotle we come from Arizona and we bring Aventurine.

B my name is Baby Bell my lover's name is Barrett Brown we come from Baghdad and we bring bacteria.

C my name is Charlotte my lover's name is Comrade we come from China and we bring Copper.

D my name is Diamond my lover's name is Daniel we come from Denver and we bring dancing pigs.

E my name is Easter my lover's name is Enya we come from Egypt and we bring Electrum.

F my name is Forteana my lover's name is Fistball we come from Fort Hood and we bring fork bombs.

G my name is Galaxy my lover's name is Gansu we come from Galveston Bay and we bring Geometry.

H my name is Hadera my lover's name is Haggai we come from Houston and we bring hypoveridae.

I my name is Iglu my lover's name is Indur we come from INTERPOL and we bring insomnia.

J my name is Jusayr my lover's name is Jungle Boot we come from Jordan River and we bring Julian Assange.

K my name is Knotty my lover's name is Konkan we come from Kryqi Cross and we bring kickball.

L my name is Ladbrooks my lover's name is La Caixa we come from La Brea Tar Pits and we bring LOIC.

M my name is Moyaux my lover's name is MS-DOS we come from Metro Footy and we bring measles.  

N my name is Nineveh my lover's name is Netcat we come from New Orleans and we bring nocturnal emissions.

O my name is Ormus my lover's name is Oxygen we come from Old Goa and we bring  oncovirus.

P my name is Pussy Riot my lover's name is Publius we come from Portugal and we bring Property Law.

Q my name is Qaddita my lover's name is Qazaza we come from Qannir and we bring Query Language.

R my name is Rapture my lover's name is Reason we come from Romania and we bring Roulette.

S my name is Snow Cave my lover's name is Skull Cave we come from Sri Lanka and we bring scareware.

T my name is Tiara my lover's name is Tilsworth we come from Tunisia and we bring Topiary.

U my name is Undertaker my lover's name is Underboss we come from United Kingdom and we bring Uppies and Downies. 

V my name is Viccania my lover's name is Vindaloo we come from Vatican City and we bring vulnerability.

W my name is Watchmaker my lover's name is Wolfy we come from Wikileaks and we bring widespread panic.

X my name is Xenu my lover's name is Xenu too we come from Xiong Dynasty and we bring X-ray Astronomy.

Y my name is Yageo my lover's name is Yoshua we come from Yugoslavia and we bring Your Anon News.

Z my name is Zirconium my lover's name is Zephaniah we come from Zuccoti Park and we bring zombie computers.      

sapphoq itching for a coffee says: Maybe you recognize the old jump-rope rhyme A_____  my name is A_____  my lover's name is A_____  we come from A_____  and we bring A_____  ...and so forth.
The fill-in words came from this list: http://par-anoia.net/assessment/us/bofa/keywords.txt
I made this post for the LULZ.  

You know what bothers me about this list and various other lists of "naughty" watchwords?  Some hi-tech people in various places got paid oodles of money to identify allegedly dangerous words and/or to read through hours and hours of chat logs and other stuff with allegedly dangerous words in them.  Words are ideas.  And ideas are the stuff of revolution.  Even so, the evolution of words has become a bedsheet rope hanging out of windows.  Even though I am laughing, a part of me is crying on the inside.