I've expressed on more than one occassion (why do I ALWAYS spell that word wrong?!) that I love blogs because it is one place where it is socially acceptable to be as self-centered as the writer can.  Sure, people can write about whatever they want, even if the topic isn't particularly related to them... but ultimately, what the author chooses to write about, and how, are greatly a reflection of themselves.  We can't all be as impartial as Fox News.

I am writing because there are a few understandings I've had in the past couple of weeks that I want to record to read when I'm reincarnated.  Remember two posts ago I expressed my fear and sadness over not being able to have children anymore?  Exactly one day after the surgery, I surprised myself by feeling the exact opposite-- knowing that I could not have children made me feel freer than I ever would have thought.  I sometimes play brain games with myself, "What if...." but come to the same conclusion.  I am by no means happy.  I never have been, I probably never will be, that's just my personality.  But learning about oneself can definitely create some feeling of peace, which is welcome.  In addition to that, I am becoming increasingly comfortable with the idea of never dating (or marrying, fucking, whatever) ANYONE ever.  After a particularly stressful situation with one individual (with all the stability of sand castles before the tide), I vowed that I would never compromise my mental security like that again.  So, no children, no significant other, life is GOOD!  I can focus on work, applying to grad school, paying off my loans, and reading.  3 years from now, I should have my masters, and 5 years from now I should have everything paid off.  After that, I'll be almost 31 and ready to start my life.  Maybe even a doctorate.

Eating is getting hard again.  So is waking up.  So is going to sleep.  I have to drug myself to sleep in the evenings, and pump myself full of caffeine to wake back up. I try to force down meals, but everything seems repulsive.  I'm exactly 5 pounds above my lowest weight (CW=136, LW=131).  I'm so sick because I want to eat normal, but am relishing being able to fit in my skinny jeans again.  The few times I do try to eat something, I eat just enough to get rid of the hunger pangs, and then feel guilty for sabotaging my weight loss.  Some kids today thought I was a teenager, which would be good were it not for the fact that pedophiles probably get the same pleasure for a different reason.  I hate getting old.  My goal is to weigh 125 for my birthday, which is in 2 months.

What the fuck am I even talking about?? Whoever said that stream of consciousness writing had any value was/is full of shit.  However, I did finish a draft rewrite of a research paper that was due forever ago.  Tomorrow I have a shit ton of work to do... may have to leave the house to get it done.  I am hungry.