Writer. Reader. Editor.

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Fog


The fog is lifting. Finally. I had begun to believe that it would be with me forever.

As the fog recedes, the clouds linger in the sky, gray and frowning as if they’re not done, haven’t shed enough tears on us yet. The thickness of their confusion hangs in the air and it’s that kind of humidity that sticks to you, gets inside of you so that no matter where you go or how you try to escape it, it’s there, latched onto you, almost murderous in its insistence.

So of course it’s one of those kinds of days, the days when I feel entrapped in my own skin, not to mention in my own home – one of those days where you dream of obliterating your soul and excommunicating your heart. And all I can say is, thank God the fog is gone.

Have you ever had one of those days?

Today, I want to run. Or hide. Or both, even, simultaneously, if only it were possible. I’ve somehow managed to lodge myself in the one-foot-and-however-many-inches of space between my bed and my desk, and who knows if I can get out again, but it doesn’t really matter because nobody can see me here and they’ll all leave me alone while I attempt to purge my entire being of these feelings, the ones I can’t describe but make you feel too full and absolutely vacant at the same time.

There’s that damn fog again, creeping in as though if it moves slowly enough, I won’t notice it, won’t recognize that it had only gone on a brief coffee break and has now returned for me. I crush my eyes shut, vainly attempting to pull myself inside myself, hoping against hope that if I contract enough muscles and pull in enough limbs, the fog won’t see me, won’t know I’m here, will let me get on with life and won’t descend upon me once again.

And now I realize how stupid it was to trap myself here, in this minuscule space where nobody can see me, nobody, that is, except the fog. I reach a hand towards my face, to wipe away the tears that I suppose I’ve been crying this entire time. The fog sees my weakness and plunges towards me again, no longer shy but back in full force, in control of me. It penetrates me, filling me with an emptiness, the kind of emptiness you welcome when you’re as broken as I am.

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

We Miss the Beauty that's Already in Our Hands

As we age, we grow inconsiderate of the under-appreciated attributes of life.

Like day-dreaming. I realized today that it's been longer than I can remember since I lay in bed, just awakening or on my way to sleep, and created a fantasy story to comfort, enjoy, or simply amuse myself. I will re-embrace this beauty.

Playing pretend. We do it so well in our minds, to ourselves, but we get "too old" to "play house". I would like to re-embrace this, but I'm not sure if I know how.

Smiling and being amused by every little, simple thing. I think I find this through children; they make me beam and glow with joy. I love babies, children, people....

Yourself. There was a time when I didn't care about how thin my thighs were, how flat and taut my stomach was, or whether my clothes were flattering...when we "grow up", we learn not to love ourselves the way we are.

These are the under-appreciated things I hope to recapture.

Eating Disorders - What You Know and What You Won't Admit


After my last poem on bulimia nervosa, I feel that it is time for me to confront one of my Top 5 concerns - eating disorders.

First of all, stop comparing yourself to everyone else. Throw out the scale. I highly doubt that you are morbidly obese if you're that obsessed with weight.

Next, take down the posters of those women you want to look like. Your body is not the same as their bodies. Is Beyonce ever going to look like Avril Lavigne? Absolutely not. Likewise, you cannot look like somebody else. (Guys, this applies to you as well.)

Now let's look at some of the health issues that occur with eating disorders (as seen in Deal With It! A Whole New Approach to Your Body, Brain, and Life as a gURL, 185-187).

Many celebrities have battled at least one eating disorder.
Anorexia nervosa
Loss of hair on head
Growth of soft, downy hair ("lanugo") on face, back, and arms (the body needs this hairy layer for body warmth)
Loss of menstruation or irregular periods (without food, hormone levels drop, alerting the body it cannot support a fetus)
Dry skin and brittle hair and fingernails
Cool grayish or yellow skin
Lowered body temperature and blood pressure
Slowed reflexes (from slowed heart rate and thyroid function)
Premature loss of bone density
Constipation
Swollen joints
Muscle atrophy
Kidney and heart failure in the most extreme cases 

Bulimia nervosa
Noticeable weight fluctuations in short periods of time
Period disappears for more than three cycles
Constipation
Damage and discolored teeth (stomach acids erode tooth enamel)
Heartburn and/or bloating
Lung irritation and damage (choking while vomiting causes food particles to lodge in lungs, causing inflammation)
Weakness
Irregular heartbeat
Kidney damage caused by chronic loss of body fluids
Salivary gland enlargement (looks like a bad case of the mumps)
Puffy eyelids and face
Bloodshot or watery eyes from vomiting 
Sores or calluses on back of hand used for purging (where teeth scrape skin)
Dehydration and depletion of important minerals
Hormonal imbalance
Chronic sore throat

And here's the real kicker, everyone - anorexia and bulimia can kill you.

I know everyone looks at these health issues and says Oh, that wouldn't happen to me, or I'm not that extreme, but telling yourself that is like the smokers who insist that they can quit "any time". The question that comes up, then, is Why haven't you?

You're all thinking these are extreme cases and that they don't apply to you or your friends. But they do. Just like any other addiction (because eating disorders can absolutely be addictions), these behaviors will escalate if allowed to progress. Nip it in the bud, as the expression goes.

Happy eating.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

For the world was loved but sad and the girl said, "Come, my children, and let us cry the sad and joyous tears the world cannot shed for herself."


Sometimes, I cry for the world.

I cry for the excruciating pain and suffering every soul feels.

I cry for the beauty we take for granted until it's gone.

I cry grateful tears for the gifts we are given but no one seems to appreciate.

I cry for society's ignorance.

I cry for wealth and poverty.

I cry for the cruelties everyone must endure.

I cry for the selfish and the selfless.

I cry, for the beauty of it all overwhelms me.

I cry the bittersweet tears the world would shed if it could.

I Want to Help You

I want to help you.

I want to wrap you up and hold you in my heart where you will be safe and surrounded by nothing but love.

I want to give you everything I have. I want to give you my money, my love, my scholarships, my life.

I want to show you all the beauty that you're surrounded but somehow not consumed by. I want to impress upon you the immeasurable beauty of family and friends.

I want to teach you to be grateful. I want to turn your anger to joy. I want to make you smile and keep on smiling.

I want to help you.

Be Grateful

For the boy who always told me how amazing life is - I understand now.


The world doesn't know what it has.

People don't realize what they have. They don't sit back and

think, Wow. It's amazing, what I've been graced with. Instead, they see what they could have, but don't. The world is ungrateful.
People don't think, Man, I've got a roof over my head and food in my stomach. They think, I wish I had a big screen TV and oh, a 3D BlueRay player would be nice.

People don't look at the sky when the sun is gloriously shining and realize how beautiful life is. They don't smile at the way the light reflects off the water just so.

People don't smile, knowing someone loves them. They remember the people who don't and those they wish did. They don't sit down with a cup of tea and think, I am so lucky as they recall how their dad used to sit down just the same way, with them in his lap. The world doesn't know how it's loved.

The world doesn't know what it has.

Be grateful.

Wordplay on Wordsworth



The world is too much with us

or perhaps we're too little with the world?