The Birds and The Bee Pollen

There are so many wonderful things I want to talk about because I’ve been busy living these past few days. Not in that sad “just barely living” sort of way but in that “thriving” and doing things sort of way. A stark contrast to the despair from earlier in the week.

Culling the unnecessaries from my life feels immensely rewarding even if at first it seems to hurt. I nearly used the verb ‘cutting’ since that paints a better picture as to why it hurts. So I’ll try that approach instead. My ‘cutting’ of the unnecessaries is like painfully removing some part of me, some internal piece of my being but with the realization that that piece is cancerous. However painful the cut, however deep the slice – these things must be removed for they will cause more pain in the long-run than the temporary pain of cutting. The mind, body, soul can heal from these. Unnecessaries, be gone.

Fair warning: the rest of this post is about food. Snooooozeville to all but me.

In the spirit of *culling* though… I’ve committed to an indeterminate period of pescetarianism. I have to admit, this is just barely affecting my life because I don’t think I considered myself a big meat eater in the first place. I used to make fun of my mom and would “insult” her by jokingly saying she was a ‘carni’ (implying a carnivore to which she took great offense, lulz. I was an awful child). And I’ve always been a fatty carb lover. I’ve always proclaimed if I could survive on just bread and water, I would do it. Mmm, bread. But I digress!

So yes. I’m no longer eating chicken, beef, pork, etc. But boy am I gonna miss da birdies tho. Chicken is too good. But real life actual chickens freak me the fuck out. Their wings are gross looking and they move weird and *shudders* True story: I don’t really like animals. They freak me out. But whatever. I’m a selfish lady and I’m not eating them for my own health. *shrugs* Positive repercussions a bonus. And as for seafood… gosh, I don’t really like seafood that much but in my mind fish has so many good and healthy Omega fatty acids, it keeps my eating out options easier, and lastly I’m a Pisces so yes da fck I will EATMYOWNKIND. Lmao. #cannibalfo’sho #addictedtohashtags

This has led to much excitement over new culinary experiences (the pescetarianism, not cannibalism, to clarify)! I love cooking. I love trying new recipes, I love just going into the kitchen and not ever coming back out. (Metaphorically speaking since open floor plans are all the rage these days.) #iwishicouldstoptalkinginparenthesis #hashtagstoo

I love vegetables and fruit. And nutrition most of all. I was for a week quite focused on perfecting my smoothie recipes for maximum flavor and maximum nutritional balance. I successfully made my first delicious non-green green smoothie (it turned a vibrant crimson and it was deeeeeeeeeeeelicious)!

I recently started taking bee pollen capsules for protein, vitamins, and minerals. I figured that would be much easier than sprinkling bee pollen all over my food… considering I already have to sprinkle rice protein powder and maca powder and superfood powder into my smoothies… I figured – let’s do something I can commit to without it requiring da werq of a smoothie. It’s been interesting experiencing the side effects of the pillz. They’ve seriously reduced my nagging cravings and stifled my appetite a bit. They’ve given me more energy, too… though I still need to nap a few times. That will likely not ever change because naps rock my world.

For the most part for a few weeks I’ve done tea over coffee. But since yesterday I’ve been feeling that iced coffee so today is day 2 back to the coffee caffeination.

I haven’t exercised at alllll this week, though. But I mean… I don’t know. I’m not being hard on myself. I’ve accomplished a great deal of other things in my time this week so I think it’s alright. Balance.

I think I’ll maybe crank out another post later in the day – non-food related. We shall see just how typative I feel today.

Image Credits: Tourists 360

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Riddoch phenomenon.

“Never mistake motion for action” said Hemingway.

Some small part of my brain keeps telling me, “But Bri, you don’t feel anything anyway.” Feeling anything would mean the reason for my feeling actually meant something. But my heart is aching and I sobbed until finally I fell asleep last night.

Interacting with people on almost any level seems to hurt. Interact on a shallow level and it seems to question my human depth and worth. Interact on a deeper level and it seems I have perhaps too many flaws. These interactions hurt me, it hurts them, to varying degrees.

More and more by the day I don’t want to interact with anyone. Not ever again.

I refuse to ever defend myself to anyone. I should not ever have to defend myself and so… won’t.

Give people too much attention and they think suddenly they are loved. Give people too little attention and they think suddenly they are hated.

I try to stay very 100% conscious at all times just how I treat people. Even when I am acting cold and distant I am careful not to act too cold and distant as to alienate someone, but just enough to get my point across that what you are saying to me is not exactly something I am interested in. It’s all very controlled interaction.

And controlling what I can make others feel hurts me. It hurts them, too, obviously. Because I can be so very cruel. But these people are equally cruel; none of us are an exception.

White space should not be considered merely ‘blank’ space — it is an important element of design which enables the objects in it to exist at all; the balance between positive (or non-white) and the use of negative spaces is key to aesthetic composition. Inexpert use of white space, however, can make a page appear incomplete.

I can hear how one co-worker will pause for 5 seconds before replying aloud to his name being called, ignoring another co-worker. And that pause says so much more than any words can. And I hate it when one of my co-workers messages me… backspacing, rewriting and hesitating just what he’s going to send to me. I can’t stand hearing the pauses and the rewrites. And then I will deliberately interact with my paperwork as though I haven’t seen his message just yet. But his Enter key echoes with such finality that it’s obvious when the message has been sent. Hearing the avoidance dripping out of someone’s ‘uhmmm’ or even just before the ‘uhm.’ I hate hearing emotions. Emotions are too loud. They’re so loud I can’t shut them out no matter how hard I try.

Negative space may be most evident when the space around a subject, and not the subject itself, forms an interesting or artistically relevant shape, and such space is occasionally used to artistic effect as the “real” subject of an image.

Emotions fill all the negative space of a person. And all I can see is the negative space. I want it to stop. I wish I were far less observant. Or ignorant. Or naive. Or any other attribute rendering me a useless human being no one wants to interact with, ever. I see the things people don’t want to show; I equally don’t want to see.

Controlling my white space renders me an incomplete portrait of a person. Just a shadow of a person. And I think a few select people have taken notice. There’s something missing. But I want to reduce myself even further: eliminate all the light, all the white space to become nothing beyond blackness. I want to reduce myself to something so dark and empty – a black void of a person – that I will no longer exist.

Riddoch syndrome (also known as the Riddoch phenomenon) is an ocular affectation often caused by lesions in the occipital lobe which limit the sufferer’s ability to distinguish objects. Only moving objects in a blind field are visible, static ones being invisible to the patient. The moving objects are not perceived to have color or detail. The subject may only have awareness of the movement without visual perception of it, or the general shape of a moving object may be perceivable as a shadow like outline.

Image Credits: NPR/Youtube

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Bullfighting

Men, real men–as in men born, bred and bored out of their minds in the Midwest–don’t spill their atrocious yellow-bellied guts out to total strangers, even licensed ones. Real men don’t swallow cute little pills to numb themselves before the world so they can keep a dumb smile on their faces at all times. Real men hunt for life, every shred of life they can handle. Take their harpoons out and try to stab sharp moving objects like sharks, piranhas and roast suckling pigs.

“Bullfighting” by Lucy Wang

In “Bullfighting” author Lucy Wang introduces a fictionalized version of Hemingway. She imagines a world in which he would say this.

Instead Hemingway really said: “…never mistake motion for action.”

Image Credits: The Generation

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Memorial Day Weekend.

I’m mildly hesitant to write this post mostly because I’m in a surprisingly good mood. Good moods cloud my judgement to perceive my world almost as much as bad moods. The former, though, usually turns into recapitulation (lists and such) whereas the latter gifts me with analysis.

At present I am inside a cafe in Eagle Rock with David. He’s finishing an essay for his masters and I am for the most part alternating between reading and watching lectures. (Funny… reading/lectures/writing – all educational type activities)

David is perhaps the only person in this whole world that gives me a ~good~ case of mild anxiety. I think he understands the power of potential and what might possibly fulfill my otherwise “basic” life.

I say (aloud) there is very little to fear in life. Even at the worst of times I don’t have it all that bad to give much weight to real worldly fears such as starvation, poverty, etc. etc. As for otherworldly fears such as ghosts/unreal things – I dismiss those without a second thought. But I am scared from time to time.

I have, for several years, been too scared to consider seriously the idea of grad school. The fear? The application. It’s the first roadblock and also the first step in the process beyond intention. If I cannot get beyond the first step I cannot continue to pass any other hurdle along the road to finishing a higher education.

It’s funny because I have very little doubts as to whether grad school would suit me. Forming arguments, theses, pages upon pages of analyses… these are the things I enjoy doing. But I have never seriously considered entering this space I feel I would thrive in because of that roadblock. I don’t know what it is about applications that give me such pause. Maybe they are unnecessarily tedious. Or they’re a confrontation with my credentials and whether some external factor considers those credentials sufficient to grant me access.

This is an issue for me… it comes from my serious disbelief in authority or this idea that someone else can dictate anything about me. My point is – I want x and don’t think it should come down to anyone else but myself as to whether or not I should do x. Basically if I feel I have the potential to accomplish x then I should be allowed to do x. I fully see the problem with this (thinking myself ever-so deserving) but then Shakespeare’s, “Why then the world’s mine oyster/Which I with sword will open” comes to mind.

What can I say, I hold this idea of high self-worth but low actual-worth. Meaning I am content with how I am but don’t think anyone else would be content with me. Or phrased in terms of education: I think I can accomplish the work required of grad school, but will the powers that be think so, too? I immediately think no regardless of my self-created worth. And so: fear. Roadblock.

But David is insistent that I should apply. AFTER ALL, no harm in trying. Except: the work required to complete applications. It seems dreadful for something that isn’t guaranteed. #lazy

Anyway.

On this beautiful long weekend I spent time with da book club, with Ketta darling and her boo, my friend DL and David as well. My family had a BBQ yesterday. Book club and I had another board game night. I went to the beach with Ketta. Went to church, too. Family brunch this morning at our fave Pacific Dining Car.

All the list has been checked: outdoor time, family time, social time, educational time, reading time, movie time. Etcetera.

So I am mostly happy. And only mostly because despite the whole list being checked I naturally am still in a state of emotional flux.

Just as I wished I accomplished a great many things this weekend. And for that I am glad.

I finished reading The Sheltering Sky this weekend. I don’t really want to talk about it very much (at least not yet)… but it’s certainly joined the ranks amongst my favorite books. I started The Night Circus and Marooned in Realtime. I just started a new Coursera class: The Diversity of Exoplanets.

There are so many great and wonderful things coming up. I just gotta stay emotionally stable. Even what at first begins as simply going through the motions soon turns into enjoyment. 🙂

A boring recapitulation but I think it would only be sincere to include the happy times as well as the miserable times.

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