Church and eggs and blackholes

I got thrown off the idea of church and organized religion a while ago. At one time I was going to a local church in Dripping and it was really nice. Then, one day, when we had a pot-luck lunch I brought deviled-eggs. I thought that nothing could go wrong what that, right? Wrong.

When I said that I brought deviled-eggs, the pastor quickly shook his finger and said, "NO, you brought angeled eggs." I never went to that church ever again.

I'm sorry, but when you have so little confidence that your own god will protect you from "deviled-eggs" (or various other baked goods with 'devil' in their name) that you feel the need to call them "angeled-eggs", then you have problems. And I don't have the professional skills to solve them.

But I did miss church to a certain degree. When I heard of Trinity United Methodist having an Earth-Centered Service, which is grounded in nature-based practices, then I figured that I would give it a try.

I've never hated god really, but being told that I'm going to hell for not sacrificing everything to 'him' doesn't make me a fan of 'his' little club. Seems to me that god would want us to do things on our own and grow, but always remember that we can turn to him for help every once in a while. Also, I wonder how his wife feels about all this stuff?

Really, the whole story about one guy creating the world and all the creatures in it? Seriously? Most guys I know can't keep a house clean, let alone create a planet. There's gotta be a wife helping god out with the details and balancing the checkbook. But that's just my opinion.

Anyway, I've gone to Trinity a few times and I've really enjoyed it. The Reverend is really down to earth and is able to weave Christian elements with nature based religion really well. Plus, the service is at 12:45. I think I can drag myself out of bed by then. :) I'm just not ready to converse with god at 9 in the morning and I'm sure god doesn't appreciate morning breath.

I've always believed in god, in some form or another. I believe that people need to have a sense of wonder and astonishment about how beautifully complicated the world is. When I took an introductory class in biology my belief in god only increased. Sure, we may have started out as single-cell organisms crawling in primeval soup, but what caused the world to form in the first place? I'm not saying that god flipped on a light switch and *bam* the world was there, but something was responsible.

Many people may insist that the world is an accident, but why is that necessarily a bad thing? So god was in his/her laboratory one day and created a world, then a few plants and animals to go on it. Then god walks away and watches from the peanut gallery as things start to roll forward.

Maybe we are a lab experiement, but that doesn't devalue the entire human experience. In fact, in my opinion, it makes life more worth while. The thought that I'm lucky enough to exist in the first place makes me happy and determined to do something with my life.

I may not be sure where I'm going or if there's a path for me, but I'm happy enough. Why let the bummer of black holes and eternal damnation keep me from living a perfectly good life? If god is out there, then he/she knows who I am and what I'm trying to do. That's enough for me.

5 Pounds Down!

After staying at my current weight for a month or so, I finally tried to get back to strict calorie counting and exercising a bit harder than my usual 30 or 40 evening walk. I've sort of succeeded. While I haven't been hitting my daily calorie goal, I've been able to keep myself on a 2,000 cal/day diet. I jogged for half a mile the other night, too, and have been walking at least two miles a night.


Now, this morning, I'm five pounds lighter! My pants are beginning to fall again. *gettin' skinny dance*


I was starting to get really frustrated because I stalled out at 218 for about two or three weeks. But I'm just so happy to have broken that barrier. I cannot remember the last time I was 215, which is a bad thing I know, but I feel so good about it at the same time.


I'm only 15 pounds away from my first hard goal and I know I can do it.


That I was able to lose the weight while concentrating on my writing and keeping focused on both things at once is really significant to me. Even with life falling down around my ears, somehow I can keep plugging away with things that make me geniunely happy and give me fulfillment.


On that note, I've finished the 1st edit of the 1st part of my 1st book! *happy dance*


I've sent the first edit off to Big Sir, who will tell me if it sucks or not. But I don't think it does. While I was finishing Part 1 I suddenly stopped and realized that I loved this book! For a brief moment, while I was reading and editing I felt this wave of giddiness wash over me. It was like I wasn't even the author any more, but just someone reading it and I LOVED the story. I've always loved the story I was writing, but this was a different feeling. I think I was astonished at the fact that I've been able to get this far with it before I giggled and got back to work.


Part 2 and 3 are going to be a little harder because I left more gaps in them to move the story along. I was suffering some pretty bad writers block, so they might take a little longer to edit and piece together. I tried writing last night but I just couldn't get my head into it. Instead I ran off to Barnes & Nobles and had a raspberry/peppermind italian soda....oh yeah...that's what I needed - more sugar in my system.

As I was sitting there and listening to this author rambling about genetically modified chickens in the back ground and reading a manga (Papillion vol 2, by Miwa Ueda. I love her stuff!) I felt this sudden urge to cry and I got really tired all of a sudden. I felt pretty good that day and didn't really understand what was going on. Anyways, I think I really scared this guy who was sitting across from me at another table cause he kept staring at me as I was holding my face in my hands and willing myself to not cry. I wondered how long it would take me to run to the bathroom before I exploded. But crisis was averted and I've figured that it's a hormone thing. Gotta love that.

I can't wait to write more tonight. It just makes me so happy.

the great happiness space

I love netflix. They have movies that I can't find any where else. Last night I got to watch a documentary over Japanese Host boys, basically male versions of geisha, who entertain wealthy women for money.

"The Great Happiness Space" revolved around the #1 host in Osaka, Issei-san. It was really well done and gave a well-rounded portrayal of the host business.

I'd never heard of Host clubs before and after watching this movie, I'm a little sad. All of the guys who work at these clubs, although they enjoy their work and make good money, expressed feelings of emotional deprevation. They have to be nice to girls, no matter what, and get to see so many different facets to their customers. To watch these young men (typically in their mid-twenties) say that they do not trust women as much as they did was really sad.

I'm pretty sure I couldn't be a host. I say what I think too much and people hate me for it. While I look up to geisha because of their dedication to their art-form, I'm on the fence about host boys. They are just as dedicated to creating an atmosphere and delivering dreams to their clients. In a way, they probably are more dedicated than geisha because the typical client for a geisha is a business man who will be proper and emotionally reserved, but the girls that hosts have to deal with seemed a little bratty.

It was just such a good documentary!

Recovering Perfectionist - step one

I'm a recovering perfectionist. The most difficult part about the whole situation is - I've always failed at being perfect - in comparison to everyone else. I've never been good enough and I convinced myself that there was something wrong with me.

This lovely little complex blossomed into a body that traps me and the nervous, awkward person I see in the mirror every-darn-day. Isn't psychosis grand? Now, imagine someone telling me that I fail at making my own decisions. That just makes the situation so much better.

But I'm not angry. I'm hurt. I'm sick of being verbally attacked for not being perfect - for failing to live up to the expectations of others. It made me angry and it made me cruel in my choice of words. I said one sentence that could have been said better. I do regret that.

In my own defense, I have yet to get a call on my cell phone from Buddha, Jesus, or Krishna telling me that I'm an enlightened being now and I will know the perfect thing to say in every situation.

It has always seemed to me that people expect me to be better - somehow. To be nicer, smarter, wiser, more accommodating, and serving. And if I dare change my mind, oh, then I'm wrong. I do feel remorse that I've inconvenienced someone else, I am sorry for letting them down. I tried to make the situation as easy as possible, to not bail out at the 11th hour. But then again, it may have been the 11th hour for them. I don't know their side of the situation, I only know why I couldn't do it and that was reason enough for me.

I've lived all my life trying to fulfill the expectations of others - make them love me. I've wasted a lot of time and effort, but it's never good enough. I'm never perfect. I'm not perfect. I won't be perfect. But neither will anyone else.

A while ago I had to decide if I could stay friends with someone. I realized I was being passive aggressive and not telling her what bothered me. We had words and I had to decide if I could live with her as a friend or not. I had to accept everything about her - the good and the bad. She's forgetful, nit-picks at my grammar until I wanna punch her in the face, and has habits that I'm not crazy about.

But, she's also one of the best people I know. She would never say anything to hurt me and she wants nothing but the best for me. She listens to me and I can tell her anything without being judged. She may be disappointed in some things that I do, but she cares more about why and how I did it than anything else. She's a friend. I decided that I could take her as she is, just like she had to decide if she would accept me as I am. Me - judgmental, awkward, sorta stupid, and a recovering perfectionist.

I could go into a hole and cry like a little girl who's been admonished by her parents. But I'm not a little girl anymore and I made a decision that didn't hurt anyone but myself. I am not obligated to castrate myself in public every time I change my mind or make a mistake.

Maybe it's my fault for being socially immature and automatically submissive when people get angry. I've made myself into a child because I never really knew any other way to act. It's never been permissible for me to stand up for myself and now I'm getting attacked for it by someone who insists that I'm adult and can make my own choices.

Choices come with consequences. Karma works. If my decision one day comes back to bite me, I'm alright with that. I deserved it, but I will not let myself feel like less of a person because of someone else.

I'm not perfect.

I broke

On the first day of my return to serious calorie counting, I binged. Although I wasn't feeling that good, I went and exercised and did what I had to do to stay in the habit of working out. Then, around 10 pm I got this really big craving and...well, that's history. Long story short is that I failed and lost to my arch-enemy: chocolate.

Will power has never been my strong point, so I'm not really too surprised, but I hoped for better - from myself.

When I first started calorie counting a few months ago I did this alot. I would binge for a few days, get serious and binge again. It was a roller coaster, but I forced myself to keep trying. I had this feeling that if I didn't get my weight under control now then I'll never be able to do it. Then I'll wind up one of those people I hate with all of my heart and soul. Those people who are so fat they can't take care of themselves. And THAT is not an acceptable option.

I've lost two more pounds and I'm holding steady at 218 (or 216, depending) , but I want to get down to 210 by the end of the month. Then I'll be so close to my goal of 200, and even closer to 180 (my ultimate goal). It's hard but I can't stop or let my own personal weakness get in the way of this goal. It's too important and so vital. If I fail, I don't know if I'll be able to respect myself ever again.

It's doesn't matter how long it takes for me to reach my goal weight (although sooner is better), but that I do it. And keep the weight off. I just have to keep at it and try to avoid getting a complex at the same time. Easier said...

I am trying to stay positive about this, and life in general. It wouldn't help for me to hate myself for last night or the last 24 years of my life. I won't get anywhere by making myself feel bad or whining (although this might count as whining). There is nothing I cannot stand more than someone who cannot see the good side and focuses on the negative - and I want to be positive.

So, I binged. I'll probably binge again. And again. But I'm going to keep at it and someday I'll get myself to where I want to be. I've already won a small victory in loosing the first 20 pounds. (And yeah, I don't care if everyone knows my weight.) That makes me feel great.

I've started excercising on a daily basis and I can jog half a mile (which has never happened before). I'm more aware of what I'm eating and how it will effect my body. I had to give away all of my pants and went down two sizes. So far, despite little set-backs, I'm doing pretty freakin well.

It's great being a girl...

Sarcasm is one of the greatest inventions of all time - well, besides tp and chocolate. The fact that I can title this blog like that and feel this miserable is true sarcasm.

I woke up on the "wrong side of the bed" this morning with my cat poking my face and jumping on my abdomen - which set off my monthly friend. I'm not angry or depressed, which is good - considering the circumstances. Mostly, I just feel "blah".

Lately, no matter how much I sleep, it's just not enough. I'm pretty sure this is because of the weight I've lost and my changing eating habbits, with the additional exercise. It doesn't help matters that I've been staying up late writing and trying to finish this freaking book. I'm so close - I can taste it. Offically, I've already finished it cause everyone has ridden off into the sunset, but now I get to go back and "fill-in" the holes.

While I was writing, I'd get to parts where I knew something had to happen but I just couldn't write it out. So, I would insert something like <<<<>>>> in the text. It helped move things along when I would get writers block.

Now, I have gaps which need to be filled and my style needs to be cleaned up. I was literally trying to write a book in a month and so when I go back and read some of my work it feels really unfinished.

I just can't believed I'm finished. I've never finished anything before, especially when it was just for me. At this point, I'm not sure if I really care if it gets published. Of course, I'd love for my work to be good enough to be published - but that's not the point. Just thinking about finishing this project makes me so freaking happy.

Now, comes the super hard part - editing. I can't let my Virgo-manic self kill everything now. When I was writing I just pushed forward and told myself, "Just let go and write, it's not supposed to be perfect". Editing will make all the difference and I'm counting on a few friends to really help out.

I've also had to consider which audience I'll be aiming for. At first, I thought the book would turn out to be your typical fantasy novel, but now I'm thinking it will be more entertaining for young adults than grown-ups. But, that's to be seen.

Last night I re-read some of the writing I did for a vampire novel I started. I started cracking myself up because I remembered how much I loved the main character - she's as sarcastic as I wish I could be. I'm not sure if that book will ever get off the ground, cause lately I've been thinking of the romance novel I wanted to try my hand at.

There's just so many ideas in my head and not enough time to get them all out. It's frustrating. I think it's the frustration that's making me moody, too. Eh, maybe I just need a freaking nap time. lol