love is a doing word

if you add me - say so.

the photo on the left was from last halloween and the one on the right was the other day.

i was never as round as that photo makes it look, but i was definitely a lot bigger. about 15 pounds heavier. this feels good. and it feels even better that i'm doing it the healthy way. a few months ago i was at the doctor's begging for phentremine and she denied me, bless her heart. i just couldn't lose the weight - i suspect because of the medication i was on. it's coming easier this time.

( lunch for my kids. )

( tomato season is almost over. i'm taking advantage of it while i can. )

cake too. my oven runs hot so the edges are a bit bur--i mean rustic.

i made this for the children i nanny for lunch today. i don't eat meat so i didn't try it, but my kids said it was great. it looked good, that's for sure.

( recipe after the jump )

i'm ok. really.

sending out resumes prospective employers, i was smacked in the face with the fear of having them google my name. the problem with communicating on a ubiquitous medium is that i'm archived. this is permanent. indexed somewhere in my twitter, which is easily googled by simply typing my name, i anecdotally describe my first trip on LSD. a few tweets later, it reads, "so you know why the caged bird sings? well, now i know why housewives get addicted commercial tranquilizers."

these are details i omit from my cover letter. thank god my livejournal isn't listed under my name.

this emotional state, this is when i start writing disjointed self obsessed entries titled with depressive radiohead lyrics. i'm going to stop describing the way i feel with adjectives and intensifiers. instead, i'm going to say things like, "today i woke up, ate breakfast across from a three year old who preferred the taste of her nostril cavities to the applejacks getting soggy in front of her. and then i threw my arms up to the sky and wailed in protest against my own life." and let the audience conclude that i am enormously unhappy.

people like to figure out things, to make connections, to discern. the adage is, don't tell -- show.

i'm not ok. i'm not ok. i'm not ok.

around nine this morning, standing in the middle of the street running late to a doctor's appointment, i dropped to my knees and screamed to no one in particular how much i hate my life.

an hour later, i walked out of the doctor's office with red eyes and a runny nose, a prescription for wellbutrin and a handful of phone numbers to psychotherapists in the area.

( i bet you're wondering why i was dripping with my own urine. )

the boy was ok.

smaller in real life. i had thought that we had a tacit understanding that it wasn't a date. both new to the city, both lonely. both seeking friends. not a date. and then i spent most of the night swatting away cloying coquettish comments like flies.

and then he commented on my crooked bottom teeth.

whatever.

the conversation turned awkward when i reiterated that i wasn't looking for a relationship. he questioned why and in so many words i said that someone that i would want to date would not date me the way that I am right now. i've not been myself lately. which was such a foolish thing to say when you just want someone to like you and resulted in me excusing myself to use the lady's room, sitting on the tank of the toilet and chanting, "stupid. stupid. stupid."

this whole seeking out friends via internet is such a fucked up practice. it feels like you're on uncomfortably lengthy, booze soaked interviews.

you always walk away wondering if you cussed too much or if going in for that hug was a mistake.

so. i just met the boy i met on a dating website.



and i just walked two and a half miles because i missed the last bus, am covered in my own urine and am craving a burrito.

i'm going to meet a boy that i met off of a dating website.

what the fuck.

XXL maternity shirt gone tunic.

nyssa says: hoopty behpday!
headl2ush: you're 4 hours too soon.
headl2ush: 3 for you.
nyssa says: you would say that.
headl2ush: here's what i know.
headl2ush: i'm going to go think about you naked and masturbate, or eat something. whatever comes first.
headl2ush: oh look. food's done.
headl2ush: joke.
headl2ush: but seriously. food.

if you're cute and do cute things, i will take your photograph without your consent and exploit your cuteness.

boston pride festival, summer 2009