Technology Rant.


Here goes.

Admittedly, she was drunk, however I think that an excuse not. To the lady who repeatedly took pictures of herself and her friends while there was an emergency situation happening in the bar and I was sternly ushering them out…. Good God.

Stop taking pictures of yourself. There is a lady passed out on our benches with an ambulance on the way. I am asking you to leave over and over again and yet you are taking photo after photo of your pretty little made up face with your annoying little friends. ‘Thank you, have a good night, I’ll take your drink for you,’ ‘Oh wait I’ll just finish it….!’ ‘No you won’t, good night.’

The paramedics come, take the lady away (she will be okay), and I look out our front window: you are still taking photos of yourself. I don’t understand.

What is the purpose?

To my good friends and my sister whom I love dearly:

Get off your phone. It is not the real world. I get annoyed being around you, ‘spending time’ with you (am I really? No, I’m spending time with you spending time with your phone) makes me frustrated and irritated and it isn’t boding well for our relationship. I don’t need to see the thirty photos taken by you of you, by others of you, that are photo shopped. You look beautiful. You always do. But you also look beautiful when you make a funny face, when you first wake up in the morning, when someone catches you candidly smiling at a joke someone made in the real world.

It’s hard to have a true conversation with you anymore. You might ask me questions and I will respond with integrity, thinking deeply about the answer I am giving you. I speak, there is a pause. I think you are mulling over my response. But no, I look at you and you are scrolling once more through your phone, perhaps an ‘mmhmm’ is given, but that is it. Oh! But when you want to speak or I ask you a question, you will speak and speak and I will listen. And get this: if I were to post on Facebook a little quip, or text you, or you me, a question, make contact with you in any way through technology — I get a proper response. I exist. I have entered your little bubble of a world and finally got your attention.

Where is real life now?

I admit to doing the same at times but I am getting much better at being less phone-facebook-instagram attached, and am happier for it. Yes, I am currently typing on my MacBook on the Interweb, about to post to people I do not know, so call me a hypocrite if you want, but know that if you were to ask me a question in person, in real life, face to face, you would get the same amount of integrity, honesty, presence, connection that is due anyone, let alone a piece of machinery.

How do you know if he is the one?

I’ve Changed

Life will always be unpredictable. For the most part, I am glad. I wouldn’t be satisfied with a predictable life. However, that doesn’t mean it is easy.

I’ve been training and dancing in San Francisco for two years now. That is a long time. It has flown by though. When I think about the Fall of my first year here…. feels like ages ago. I was so confident and … little. I lost a lot of that confidence and slowly built it up, in better ways. I feel like a different person.

Next step? I don’t know. I don’t know where I will be next year, or even in July really. I have nothing tying me down to ANYWHERE. I could go ANYWHERE I want to in this world. Pack up, move, travel. Granted, I really don’t have any money, but I could travel somewhere I could work, at least part time. What if I did? What if I went on an adventure? …. I hadn’t actually thought of that possibility until now. I was about to write about how nothing felt right, but also nothing felt wrong either. Everything — places to be and things to do next year or to begin feel neutral. I had such a strong feeling before moving to San Francisco. It felt so right. I knew it was right. But right now? I don’t know what feels right. I trust that something will come my way. It always does. I also know I am more than capable of making things work for myself. I have done it time and time again. So yes. I will be okay. It is the not knowing though, that is stressful. But then again, I’ve dealt with that before. I’ve not known much of what is about to happen before and doors always open, and they are always, generally, wonderful. So let me be excited instead. Let me be positive, excited, and ready for whatever will come next. Because I am. Every day I become stronger, more mature, more knowledgeable, more aware. That is one thing I have become much better at since being in San Francisco — being aware. And making different and smarter choices because of that awareness. I have more patience for people. I have more patience for myself. I have more perspective. I have more confidence. I have more love. I have more happiness. I have more to give and more desire to give and to receive and to learn and to teach and to share and to explore. I am so much more. I am so much more than I used to be. For that I am grateful.

35 trust with abandon just be real am i real

Not sure what to write but felt like I needed to create some words. I believe I’m just over tired.

Life is good right now. It’s good.


It is coming to a close here in San Francisco. Surprisingly I feel ready for the next step, although I don’t know what that step exactly is yet. Six months ago though, I would’ve told you I wasn’t ready to leave. I feel ready. Pretty neat, eh?

I’m dating someone. He’s sweet. He’s a scientist. Last night we had dinner and we cuddled on my bed for a while. The whole time we were together he was real with me. I find he can be distracted or perhaps not distracted, simply unable or not used to really connecting with people. My friend C and I were talking one day about how we often have men falling in love with us (and I do not say this in an egotistical manner, merely it happens and I find it bizarre). Anyways, we were talking about this and we think it is because both of us are real. We are honest. We are simply ourselves. There aren’t a lot of people like that in our world anymore. So many people are afraid to be themselves. Heck. I’m scared too but I can only be me so I will be me. Anyways, Scientist I am dating, he is very analytical, very practical. Different world than me. And I can tell he is often nervous or unsure, or, possibly??, intimidated around me (lord, intimidated!?) yet last night he was real. It was really really nice. He was a person. I like it when people are people. Just be.

This is a rambling post.

Talked with one of my teachers today. Told him about how I feel like there is a piece of plexiglass separating me from the rest of the world and I really feel it in my dancing. I just want my movement, my dancing, to be real. I just want to be real. I don’t feel real a lot of the time. He said it was normal. He said it was good I am questioning this. He said to trust with abandon. He also said that you’re not going to be the 35 year old dancer you want to be now. You’ll be that dancer when you are 35.

Now what?

I can’t do this anymore. I mean, I can, I know I can, and I will, but today, and yesterday, and several moments of several other days I can’t and I don’t want to.

I am flying back home on Tuesday to spend three days with a company I want to apprentice with next season. A few days ago, I felt capable of anything with my movement. I was proud of how much I have improved, how far I have come, how much I have learned and explored for myself. This week, I feel like shit. I can’t get my legs above 90 degrees. I can’t turn. I can’t balance. There is no artistry in my work. There is no individuality, no exploration, no sensation, texture, feeling, nothing unique, personal. Where is my spiral? Where is the intention? The presence? I’m just making shapes, if that. Didn’t even feel like I was making good shapes today. And I acted like an immature, sulky 13 year old in one of my classes. Grow up. JUST FUCKING GROW UP.

I need to be confident when I go take class next week. And why am I making such a big deal about this? (Because it matters a lot to me. Because I want it. Because I want recognition. Because I want something. I want a reward. I want acceptance. I want to be wanted, desired.) I was on a high when I got the email. I’m going to be nervous before, during, and probably after. Ok. Accepted. But why am I there? I am there to show them how I work. No. I am not there to show them anything. I am there to give myself a new experience. To give myself an opportunity to work in a new environment. To learn something new. To challenge my fears. To learn some new choreography and movement, to PLAY. To HAVE FUN. To DANCE. You’re going there to dance. Forget about everything else and dance. You know you can do this. You can dance. You are capable of doing this.

I also feel fat. I feel chunky, chubby, puffy, flabby. I have been going fairly consistently to the gym since mid January. People have told me my arms are more defined. One person (ex boyfriend) told me I had put on muscle. I didn’t want to put on muscle, I wanted to tone up. I realize I probably have put on muscle, but now I see my arms are huge. HUGE. Fucking huge. Thick, squishy. And despite doing a lot of abdominal work, outside of just dancing, with weights, and seeing an improvement in the beginning, I feel it is all now hidden underneath the flub that is called my body. I feel so fat. Yet how can I be fat when two weeks ago I felt great? I had awesome definition in my body. Have I really changed all that much in two weeks or is it just my head, like it usually is?

I want to see veins. I want to be small. I want to be the size I was six years ago. I want to be 92lbs, not 124lbs. I want to be underweight. I want people to stare at me and comment. I want stick legs and stick arms. I don’t care if I’m cold all the time and my hands are purple. I don’t care. I want just skin and muscle and bone.

I’ve been eating too much. I know I have. I don’t have a healthy relationship with food or with my body anymore. I am too obsessed with carbohydrates, sugar, salt. I have 1/3 cup ground turkey, some non-dairy cheese, and kale in the mornings, plus unsweetened cocoa powder, stevia, and hot water. Then the rest of the day varies. But I start off well. I have become addicted to tortilla chips. I used to be able to not eat any carbs at all — no chips, no rice, no quinoa. That’s a lie. I ate cereal. Nature’s Path Mesa Sunrise. A lot of cereal. And rice cakes. But that was it. Now I go crazy and crave tortilla chips, I’ll buy them and then I’ll eat half the bag in one sitting. I think I’ve begun to binge. And nut butters. Fuck. I’ve always loved nut butters, any kind, and I’ve always eaten them really fast; 1 jar 2 days. Literally. But I cannot control it. I’ve stolen from my roommate’s jars before, scraping carefully so that they can’t tell I’ve taken any. Nut butters. Tortilla chips. Hummous spoonful after spoonful. Dried fruit. Nuts. Sugar. Chocolate. Granola. I am never satisfied. I don’t even know what I want. I just want to be full. To feel satisfied but I don’t know how to do that anymore. I eat when I’m not hungry. I eat past being full. I cannot control it. All I ever want to do is eat and it’s working against me because I want to be thin. I was thinner last year, I swear. Why am I bigger? Why am I gaining weight? I know why I’m gaining weight, it’s pointless to ask why. I’m becoming more obsessed and focused on food and body image, which then when I restrict certain things makes me want to eat them even more to the point I can’t control it. I don’t know what to do. I’m scared to just eat normally again but I don’t even know what that means to me anymore. How do you eat normally while still trying to lower body fat percentage to show more muscle tone?

No sugar. Increases inflammation in the body and body fat.

No dairy. Increases inflammation in the body.

No carbs/less grains. Increases puffiness in body.

Less nut butter. Too much fat.


Fruit. There is so much sugar in it. But I need something.

Chocolate. Tortilla chips. Rice. Indian food. Pizza. Fuck. ANYTHING. I just want to feel full of something. I don’t know what I want.

I am lonely yet I only want to be alone. When someone wants to make plans with me I get anxious and scared and feel trapped. So I back out and come home alone.

Being Anorexic Sucks

Being anorexic sucks. It sucks being there, but it is so addicting. There is such a thrill watching the numbers go down on the scale, feeling your sit bones poke into the floor and your spine hitting the back of the chair, having your sports bra swim around your rib cage because you have shrunk so much, your tall boots loose on your calves. Having people audibly speak about you behind your back: “She’s clearly anorexic.” “That girl should eat something.” “I’ve seen someone’s ribcage from the back, but never from the front.” Six spoonfuls of plain, non fat yogourt, half a teaspoon of sugar free jam, 14 almonds, half an apple in thin slices. Breakfast. Dance 8 hours. Eat… next to nothing. Go to bed with hunger pains, lie awake for hours feeling the cavity that now lies between your hip bones, fall asleep thinking about the nuts you have hidden from yourself at the bottom of your closet, get up in the morning, repeat, muddle through the day in a fog of exhaustion and fatigue, thinking about the next ‘meal’, barely able to hold yourself up straight, let alone complete a single ballet class. Toes going numb, hands and fingers and lips dark purple and cold, always so cold, to the bone, can’t get warm, ever. It’s summer and I’m wearing three sweaters and two pairs of pants, and the heater is blasting on high straight towards me while Mum overheats beside me in the car. But I’m so so so cold. I can see all the veins in my stomach. When I’m dressed, you can still see my hip bones protruding through my layers. Hungry but not hungry all at once. Then you eat ‘too much’ and your system revolts, constipated for days, cramps, not to mention anxiety and panic. Trying to throw up but you can’t reach far enough down your throat, you just can’t do it. Staring at a piece of chocolate you want but physically unable to put it in your mouth. Can’t even suck on a Tic-Tac. It’s only one calorie. But it’s one calorie too much. Every time you stand up you have to hold on to something because you get dizzy and only see black with white specks everywhere, you’re going to faint, now your vision has cleared, it’s okay. Getting blood drawn at the doctor’s office hurts like hell because you’re dehydrated and your veins have shrunk so much they can’t find a decent spot to insert the needle. They have to use a butterfly needle which is generally saved for young children but your veins are so small. Even then it hurts more than it should. Journals full of page after page after page of calorie calculations, ‘fuck yous, ‘fat bitch,’ and foods you have eaten or want to eat. A spoonful of honey or half a sugar cube to get you through your next class. Not wanting to be hugged or touched by anyone because you don’t want them to feel how thin you really are, not wanting to be touched because you are so disgusted by your body and what you are.

There’s more. there is so so so much more. Why do I still want all of that? Why do I want all of that again? But I don’t. But I do.

Dear K

Hey K,

I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something for a while now but was never sure if I should or not. I don’t want to come across as invasive; I truly don’t mean to be. If you want, ignore this message completely. I won’t be hurt or offended. I understand that you need to do what is right for you, right now.

When I was 18 I was severely anorexic. I was dancing at a school in Germany at the time. It got to the point that I was being called to the director’s office and threatened with being asked to sit out of my classes if I didn’t stop losing weight. If I hadn’t been 18 and legally an adult in Germany, they would have hospitalized me then and there. My BMI was down to 14. I didn’t finish my year there and instead came home to try and get better. It’s taken a long time but I’m at least 70% better and a million times happier now than I was 6 years ago. However, it’s still something I deal with daily, on a larger scale than I’d like.

From the outsider’s perspective, I feel like you are working through something similar. I don’t want to assume though. Again, please forgive me if I am being too forward.

I’m here if you want to talk or vent, or ask questions, or simply just be a monster with in rehearsals. It’s an individual and unique experience for everyone, but I understand what it’s like to try and re-introduce food, to be fucked over by yourself and that voice in your head, to feel confused and messed up, to be pulled into the addiction of not eating, the thrill of yourself getting smaller and the numbers going down, the worries of what is going on in your body, why does this hurt why does that hurt what is this, the fear, the complete and utter exhaustion of everything. I know it all. I also know that no matter how many people say something, how much you realize or see it yourself, nothing is going to change until you really really want it to change. I had someone once tell me that I might have to hit rock bottom before being able to climb out again. And I did. A few times. And then I climbed slowly back out. I understand though if you aren’t ready. Know that that is totally okay too.

I love you and I’m here. We are all here.

I’m sorry if I have said too much or been too forward. I care about you.

.formspring me chickpeas.


October 2015
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