Seeing some changes

Not big changes, but noticeable changes. Like, the towel that I take to the gym: it used to just barely overlap--just enough overlap so I wouldn't be parading my rolls all over the changing room. Yesterday, I noticed that it overlapped a bit more, and all the way down, over my hips. My winter jacket had been edging toward a tad snug, over my hips again, and now there's a lot more room when I close it.

I've tried to make changes to my body before, but something just wouldn't work out, and back to the old habits I'd go, gleefully at times. Something's different this time. Aside from the odd moment few and far between, I haven't felt ashamed to be eating something. I can't say why I've been ashamed, or why I don't feel that way now, but why ask why? At this stage, I'll be glad to feel good, and feel good about feeling good.

I've spent some time thinking about why I've wanted to make these changes, and this time it's different from before (which may be why the changes are sticking a bit better). When feeling uncomfortable in my body, I've asked why, and kept asking why: I want to wear a thing, but I can't. Why do I want to wear that thing? Because this thing looks like how I feel inside (cute, flirty, silly, sexy, or what-have-you). Why can't I wear it? Because I don't feel comfortable in it. Why don't I feel comfortable. Because I don't like the way that I look. Why don't I like it? Because I don't think that I look attractive. Who don't I look attractive to? Myself. Does that mean that I'm not attractive? No. Can I change how I feel about myself? Yes, with work. Can I change how I look? Yes, with work. Can I love myself, no matter what I look like? Absolutely. Do I love myself, no matter what I look like? I try, and I think I'm getting there.

Why am I trying to change how I look? Because I want to look good.What does good look like? What metric will I use to determine good?

We shall see.

Small struggles

Stop.

Why are you eating? Are you hungry, or are you bored? Are you lonely? Are you sad? Are you happy? Are you angry? Are you angry because you keep eating? Which ones are reasons to eat?

What are you eating? Are you going to secretly wish that you could throw up after eating that because whatever you've decided to eat is terrible? When you feel shame looking at food that you really shouldn't eat, why do you eat it? Because of the shame?

If it's a problem, can you recognize it as a problem?

Yes.

Are you powerless to stop yourself?

No.

Will you change this behavior?

I will try.

One down...

And seventy million to go. Not really. Really, it's more like hundreds. Projects. That pattern that I was working on (and whining about) the other day is corrected and submitted! I rewarded myself with some knitting and period British soaps.

alright. I've finished something by deadline and written a (token) post about it.

Holiday Cookies!

I am a lucky lady, and I was able to get myself a pretty neato camera for myself for my birthday, back in November. It's not terribly fancy, but I like it. I've been trying to document happenings and whatnot, for me, for photo albums, and for the blog. Well, now that I have a minute really should be sleeping, I thought I would get a start on uploading the photos.

Before Christmas/Isaac Newton's Birthday, the Monster and I made my favorite holiday treat, Candy Cane Chocolate Chip Cookies!

Jump for photos!

Quiet

when the tv is hushed
and the dryer is done
the kitchen clock keeps time in quartz
and,
above the rustle of my hair on my pillow
above the hum of the ceiling fan in the next room
above the drone of the fridge
above my heart, beating in my ears,
there is
an ocean
drumming out of time
onto the sand

Math isn't hard

...but working out what you were thinking over a year ago when you probably weren't getting enough sleep to properly express a thought, and now you certainly don't have enough brain power left at the end of the day to suss out what your sleep-deprived brain was thinking--that is hard.

I have a knitting pattern that I am writing for (how exciting) publication in a book being produced by my LYS, and I am thisclose to being done with it, but for those niggling little errors. Ack. Thanks be to the wonderful tech editor who's catching all the errors, but mother of purl, I want to be done. This will be my first pattern, and I don't want ANY errata associated with any of my knitting patterns (it happens, I know, but let's not on the first go), and I know that the LYS also is not a fan of errata. So, that's what I'm doing.

Pacing myself. This is what this looks like. I'm going to go to bed before I get in too deep and screw it all up. I have time set aside to work on this tomorrow.

A Snail's Pace

Holy mother of pearl, what the what.

Oh, I've been neglecting the blog dreadfully. I've been composing a photo-dump post, in my head, and I even found the cable thingy and attached the camera, and installed Picasa, and, well, that's as far as I got. 

I have about a million zillion projects that I've been trying to finish up--only recently did I manage to finish hemming a pair of pants for the Nick, a pair of pants that he asked me to hem (and got stashed on my sewing desk) before Halloween. This past weekend, I had whatever bug was going around, and was knocked flat on my kiester. For one day, when Grandma was able to hang out with the Monster, I even got to rest for a bit. (After dropping the lovely Monster off at Grandma's house, I stopped by the drugstore to pick up some necessities, and holy mackerel, don't try to go shopping when you are sick. That is one of the worst times for decision-making, and staring at a shelf full of granola bars while a dial tone goes off in your head, well, that's just a terrible idea.) I did rest. I frogged a baby sweater that wasn't ever going to get finished, and frankly, is too small for the recipient, and in between episodes of my favorite British murder and sci-fi shows that I dozed off to, I thought about my creative self. (The sewing desk was right in my eyeline, so that might have helped a bit.) This is what I came up with:

I can be crafty, but I must not expect anything faster than a snail's pace.

WHAT? I'll never get anything done at that pace!

Yes you will; you aren't the knitting Xeno.

You mean the Greek philosopher who stated that one cannot get from point A to point B because first, one must cross half the distance between the two points, and first half that distance, and the first half that distance and so on?

Yes, shut up, we all knew that because we are all educated here.

What do you mean, expect no more than a snail's pace?

I mean that I don't have time to screw off with, and also expect to accomplish anything. My time is now finite, and little. You know that.

Yes, that's true. There's not so much now.

And rather than be disappointed when I don't accomplish the impossible, I should expect the possible.

That's crazy talk!

Shut your face! You're the crazy one, talking to yourself all the time.

Yep, I'm the crazy one. I would roll my eyes at you, but there isn't a mirror handy.

Anyhow, snail's pace. I can accomplish a lot, but only a bit at a time.

So, you're giving yourself permission to pace yourself?

Essentially, yes, that's what I'm doing.

You picked an odd way to deliver that revelation. Seriously, this is pretty anti-climatic.

No it's not, and critiquing a work in the middle of a work isn't meta. It's annoying, and hackneyed, really.

Your face is hackneyed.

~~~

So. I can travel at a snail's pace, and it's okay. I'll get to where I need to go, and in the time that I have. I will work on my ADOS (Attention Deficit--ooh, shiny! as my sister jokes) and document my ideas when I get them. The thing is, I get excited about a thing, and want to do the thing OMG right then and drop everything else. So, I'll endeavor to document my ideas as I get them, and hopefully be able to organize them, and be able to come back to them when both the idea and myself are ready,