Held by Jell-O

This is forced blogging.

I am the forcer in that sentence. I am forcing myself to just type and see what comes out because the lack of writing is just so counter-intuitive and i fear it might have some adverse affect on my psyche.

I have been in a funk. A writeless funk. I haven't worked on any of my books in progress. I haven't even blogged. Not because i have writer's block--as I've said before, I don't suffer from writer's block, it suffers from me. This is about mood. I don't FEEL like it. I don't feel like writing. Or going out. And that momentarily devolved into not feeling like showering or being awake. Classic signs of depression. I'm familiar with it, as most overtly creative people seem to be. But i refuse to let it conquer me. I just let it bang on my helmet for a few weeks.

From that point, i went into this food-as-comfort routine, where i caught myself eating frequently, and sometimes too much, so that i have bouts with acid reflux and always wonder afterward why i just kept chewing and swallowing. Was it just something mindless to do? And i have this unusual craving for sweets. Probably my body's retarded idea of how to make me feel better. Sugar high. But I have been constantly staring into the 'fridge and cabinets, making short trips to the grocery at 3 a.m. only to find that one thing--that one bit of consumable energy that would make me feel better. Donuts. Cake. Ice cream. Comfort foods, all. Why aren't carrots and celery comforting?

I'm not an over-eater or binge eater by nature. I recognize it for what it is. An effort to find relief from this ho-hum gel that has been poured on my head. This ecto-plasmic goo from some other parallel universe that likes to punish Intellectual Creatives. I feel like I'm suspended in Jell-O. I can see out around me, but i can't move. And in some strange way, it feels good to just be held like that.

And i have been watching way too many episodes of Criminal Minds. Have grown very fond of the show, but it is, after all, a show about the underbelly of humanity. I used to go through times when i couldn't watch the news because it depressed me so much. How people are. How vicious the world can be, and all the humans in it. So i would avoid it, and feel better. But haven't i been making the same mistake with these serial - killer - crime - investigation type shows too? Maybe that's contributing to my melancholy. I should stop. Let's see, i only have about 20 more episodes on the DVR to go...

The underlying problem is good old-fashioned loneliness. I know that. And i know I'm doing what i can to fix it, but these things take time and money, and since the move, I've been the very quintessence of a hole-dweller. In the hole. It is very grave-like. This too shall pass. I know. But until it does, it sucks. And it's on the heels of prolonged isolation and loneliness from whence i came. I moved to solve this problem (among others). And now I'm smacked by the frost-bitten hand of reality. You can't open a pack of Instant Social Life Deluxe and just add water. It's a stew. Like a crock pot variety. It takes a long time and has to go through a process. And i keep taking the lid off and breathing the aroma and wishing it was done so I could enjoy it.

People suck. But i only say that because I've had an inordinate amount of sucky people cross my path. I can also say that people rock. I have great friends. I just miss them. I never get to be with them. Okay. Love sucks. No, not love. The lack of love. That's what sucks. That warm body next to mine. (And my cats don't count, here, though they do their best by following me around and lounging on me). The lack of intimacy and romantic sparks and connection. Of loving and being loved in a physical, I'm-here-and-I-matter-to-someone-way. But it needs to be someone who matters to me too.

That's the challenge. Finding someone who affects me that way, and then having the feeling be mutual. The hard part is that sheer absence of anyone I am really attracted to. The traits that seem to titillate my dopamine and oxytocin and other choice pleasure chemicals in my brain, seem like something only a paleontologist could find. I am holding on by my fingernails. And they are quite stubby. And bleeding.

But depression is boring. I don't like it and I don't like telling anyone about it. We all know what it is. But i just don't want it to define me. There are other, more pleasant definitions of me. I am only having trouble accessing those at the moment.

Maybe I should just relocate to Prozac Nation.

Held by Jell-O

Food, Sex & Purpose

I wanted Chinese. Had a hankering, you might say. And i thought of how great it would be to go have Chinese with some new friend I've made. But they are all busy. I guess it will take longer than 10 days for me to get in sync with everyone else's schedules here.

But i still craved Chinese.

So i went for Fast Chinese food At Panda Express.

I've never been to a fast food Chinese place before. Pretty cool. Like Subway. You tell them what you want and they put it in the box.

I had fried rice, orange chicken, honey walnut shrimp with crab rangoon with a side of sweet and sour sauce. It was pretty good. I watched a Netflix and ate in my recliner. It's not so bad being alone when you have plenty of options. Like options for good food that you don't have to drive an hour and a half to find. I adore eating out, because I've frankly had everything i can buy at the grocery, and I'm bored with it. I am hoping the groceries here are a little more diverse. I think it's a getting older thing. You just get bored with things. It's BTDT--Been There Done That syndrome.

My friend Veep says that she thinks it all comes down to food and sex. I'd venture to add another, and say it comes down to food and sex and purpose. Though i do believe your purpose must sometimes change.

My purpose has morphed repeatedly.
Here's an explanatory snippet from a segment of my life:

First, my purpose was to walk again, regardless of what they told me my fate was.
Then it was to work on my writing skills in my spare time, and full-time, be the best singer-songwriter i could be and always try to put on a good show.
Then it was to get over my broken heart.
Then it was to finish writing all those books i started.
Then it was to find a way to enjoy food again.
Then it was to find a lifemate.
Then it was to get laid.
Then it was to be more social.
Then it was to write and find a lifemate.
Then it was to write and get laid.
Then it was to create art to distract me from the fact that i was bored with food, and couldn't get laid.
Then it was to lose all this extra weight finally.
Then it was to find happiness.
Then it was to recover from my disc injury.
Then it was to move to Colorado.
Now, it is to write more books, create more art, record more music, be more social, get laid and find my lifemate.

The more things change, the more they stay the same. But i do see a pattern there. And it is about food (sometimes--because i love to eat out), and sex (because i always like to eat in--sorry, i could not let that one go), then it was, repeatedly, about purpose. Every single thing on that list was about purpose. Am I giving something to this world and the people in it? Is my life meaningful? Am I attractive, desirable? Am I worthy? Am i good? Boil all that down, and it is the gruel of Do I matter, or am I just disappearing?

It took me a while (too long) to figure out that I had painted myself into a corner. Now that I walked through that wet paint and traveled far enough for it to finally wear off my shoes, I'm standing here at the entrance to my new life, hoping I can finally have the things i long for, but never find.

They say that when you eat Chinese Food, you're hungry an hour later. That's my life. Momentary satisfaction, punctuated by long periods of hunger.

Oh, and that fortune cookie. Funny thing about that. That's the fortune i got a few weeks ago, too. SO the first change for the better was moving, i suppose. The second--not sure yet.

Maybe that's tomorrow. Can't be as simple as dealing with old storage....gotta be more dramatic or romantic than that.

I suspect it's not about what I'm doing, but who i run into along the way.

Let's hope that's not in the literal sense: I'm still learning to drive in big city traffic.

Food, Sex & Purpose

Me and Food are Filing for Divorce

I am tired of food.

Does that happen as you get older?
i did a search on Google, hoping for insight, and I couldn't find any information on this. Not finding something on Google is highly disturbing to me. You can ALWAYS find ANYTHING on Google. I assume I'm using the wrong key words.

But it does make sense that after 40-plus years alive, you've probably tried most everything at least once. But I feel I've tried everything, along with its variations, a hundred times.

I do eat as healthy as possible, and even when I stray from that, I'm still bored with food. Part of this is my inherent need for variety. I never allow myself to get bored in any area of my life, and rarely experience a feeling of boredom, because I have so many things to occupy my mind going on all the time. And food also falls into that category. I will hardly ever eat leftovers because "I've already had that." But now, it's gotten severe enough that I find grocery shopping takes twice as long because I agonize about buying this or that, knowing that I'm tired of it, and not being able to think of another option. There are only so many food groups.

I've had chicken, beef, pork, all veggies, all fruits, all dairy, all cereals, all versions of eggs, all sweets, (although I don't think sweets is considered a food group, unless you're a poor mother of 6 in the South.) And forget about going out--I've tried the usual Mexican, Chinese, Japanese, (most of the "eses") and some Greek, and some Mediterranean (whatever that is). I don't like foods that are so spicy that they numb your tastebuds and make your eyes bleed, nor do I like bitter foods--(bok choy comes to mind--what a waste of a good leaf).

I feel I have simply had all I can stand from all there is to choose from. Am I missing something?

I even tried to grow a garden, hoping that fresh, unprocessed and toxin-free vegetables would make food taste new again. But the only area I have to grow in failed miserably because there wasn't enough direct sunlight. Out of the 100 plants i planted (and the boxes I built on stilts to make the process easier), I garnered one small tomato. It was delicious. But gone in one minute.

The only thing I imbibe that I continue to enjoy, is my coffee. It's my first craving when i wake up. After that, the palatal enjoyment just goes downhill. (Now, if I was in a relationship, my first craving might be different. Nothing like a good morning cuddle. And anything else that might transpire after I have brushed my teeth).

So....Maybe I should date a chef.....but since I'm gay, that would be almost impossible, as I fear there are very few lesbian chefs around here. I still have trouble finding regular women I like well enough to date.

But I'm afraid that now I will look at weird things as possible food sources...flowers, bark, foam, soap, cat chow, doggie burgers, sparrows, groundhogs.....they probably all taste like chicken. But I know I would never get crazy with this, as some things are just repulsive--ala, Fear Factor. I once saw Survivorman eat a scorpion. Live, and kicking, and I thought I would hurl. Eating some things is just mental, plain and simple.

I've had the same menu of choices for over 40 years. So I'm convinced this is age-related--and not in a senility sort of way--senility might help, actually, because I would FORGET that I've had that particular food a hundred times, and it might, therefore, taste new again. (Wow, I bet that would make sex great too). Okay, now I'm actually considering the positive aspects of Alzheimer's.

I welcome any comments that might alleviate my food angst.

(And Georgie, I defy you to tell me you were just thinking the same thing...)

Me and Food are Filing for Divorce

Comfort Food

When i start feeling down, i want comfort food. Sometimes that's mashed potatoes, or chocolate, or pizza...tonight it's a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup...


Why do so many of us eat when we're depressed? According to the National Health and Nutrition Survey, about two thirds of Americans are obese. That's a lot of depressed people.

http://nhlbisupport.com/bmi/

Sometimes I think it would be just as much comfort to get into a giant bowl of mashed potatoes or tomato soup and just move around a little bit in it. Then we wouldn't be obese because we would be swimming--getting our cardiovascular exercise... and we'd still have the comfort of the food itself. But it sure would be a hell of a mess to clean up. OF course, that would be good aerobic exercise, too.

Comfort Food