I'm going to try this again. The theory is that when I write on Blogger it will show up on Facebook. It is showing up but when other people do this you can click and go to the full post. Not sure why that didn't kick in for me.
I also updated my Twitter this morning and that's supposed to show up as my status, which sometimes works and sometimes doesn't. Today it didn't. I wish Facebook would spend as much time making things work as they do creating new entry portals that everyone hates. I've lost so many gifts lately.
It is Fat Tuesday. I love Fat Tuesday. I love a day that celebrates abundance.
The flurry of news reports about Kevin Smith yesterday have been followed by silence, which is how it goes. A day of making fun of fat people. There will be more.
One of the meanest things I heard yesterday was a woman who was the head of some anti obesity something who kept talking about life style choices. I'm wary of pathologizing weight but I have met fat people who believe they have a food addiction. Telling them they're making a life style choice is like telling a drug addict to just say no. There are also fat people with heath issues that make weight loss difficult. I always feel like I need to know a lot about medical stuff I have no interest in when I try to make this case. And people working two jobs trying keep up may chose high carb and fat fast food because it's what they have time for and can afford. Are they making a life style choice? And really if the issue is life style choice ... should a thin person making the crap food and no exercise life style choice be charge more for airplane travel?
Teenagers are getting the surgery. No one knows what the long term impacts will be. It's heartbreaking to me.
I may have forfeited my chance to be a part of the public debate by letting my blog whither. And I don't know if I care. I feel completely defeated.
But it's Fat Tuesday. So ... laissez les bons temps rouler, cher.

Picture me slumped in a chair pouting because that's pretty much what I'm up to these days. I keep trying to write. Writing usually begins with some internal dialog that becomes more and more organized. My internal dialog is messy and annoying and never really comes together into anything useful.
And then Kevin Smith got kicked off of a Southwest flight because of his weight. I don't need to link do I? I mean the chattering masses are revved up. When I first heard about it my pout became a sort of smile/sneer. Famous guy gets all agro on Twitter. I wondered how long would it last and how stupid and mean would it get?
Kevin Smith wasn't really saying that the policy is discriminatory. He was mad because he doesn't believe he is too fat. His seat belt fastened and his armrests went down. He says he's fat but not THAT fat. So really... what does his outrage mean to me? Welcome to my world dude.
I posted a link about it on Facebook. I haven't been posting much on Facebook. Just hitting like now and then and playing games. Kristina posted the link and then I did and then another friend posted. Most of Kristina's posts turn into lively discussions. Only one one of her friends hit like. Wonder why? And then the comments on the other friend's post were all about being uncomfortable sitting nest to fat people and being turned off by Kevin. Nice. My friends were supportive and had their own stories, which was sweet and sad.
Kevin is already worn out. Imagine my surprise. He writes that the topic is beginning to taste " mediciney and fruitless." And really, that is exactly how it feels.
My seat belt does not fasten and my arm rest might go down but not without digging into me. I am always as careful as I can be now to touch the person next to me. I usually get off of planes aching with the tension of trying. Should I have a comfortable seat on an airplane?
It has been mildly interesting to hear the differences in the way it was covered. One guy did a whole thing about fuel costs. A spokes person from NAAFA on CNN spoke completely beside the point. Not a word about the idea that a fat person might have a right to comfort and safety.
So my pout turned smile/sneer is now a scowl. And yet, somehow, I think that might be a step in the right direction.

The years of unemployment shook my faith in myself. I got lots of support on my blog but I was also attacked. If you choose to write in public you need to be able to process stuff like that.
I lost a few friends. To some extent I have processed all of it. In other ways I might might never let the hurt go.
I'm sad. And I'm embarrassed to be sad. Sadness feels like failure.
There are reasons. Sadness seems a normal thing to feel all things considered. But I haven't wanted to talk about it.
Sadness is difficult for people, especially when they care about you. And the myriad ways in which people deal with those feelings are all understandable.
But. I can't process my own sadness and other people's need for me to not be sad. So I am withdrawn.
The problem is that I am cut off from my inner world.
I heard Parker Palmer talk abut his own depression. He used the phrase: the tragic gap.

"The tragic gap is the gap between what's really going on around us, the hard conditions in which our lives are currently immersed, and what we know to be possible from our own experience"

He goes on to describe flips between hyper-cynicism and hyper-idealism with such elegance. I listen to the interview again and again trying to ground myself in the wisdom. But wisdom ... wisdom doesn't always help.

So I had a weepy weekend but I got a few chores done. I'm not really ready for Monday. Ready or not. Here we go.

Three posts in one day. Is it a trend? I dunno. Doubt it.
Plants are watered. Back room is still a mess. Apartment is generally cleaned up. Paperwork done. What can be packed for lunch has been packed. Swim bag is packed. It's as good as it's gonna get and it's good enough.
Posts for the rest of the week could all read like this.
Woke up.
Ate cereal.
Went swimming ( Monday, Wednesday and Friday)
Got the bus to the train and the train to the shuttle.
worked.
Got the shuttle to the train and the train to the bus.
Checked email Spaced out on Facebook.
Went to bed.
There might be complaining about the commute or love for the pool. But. It's just a push to get through it all. I never have anything left.

Interesting. I spent more than an hour updating my blog roll in a failed attempt to make it more manageable. And that was without much reading. I deleted blogs that don't seem to be on anymore. And some that I liked but knew I might not read regularly. It was surprisingly emotional. I was flooded with memory.
I can barely imagine getting it together to write anymore. Even with a reduced blog roll I don't have an hour an hour a day to read.
And it's more than time. It's about how I experience reading and writing. I try not to be overly precious but I feel. A lot. Of everything. About everything.
I made a new friend last year. We're on the same bus/train combo. The other day she talked to me about not liking blogs. She didn't understand why anyone would want to write about their lives on line and she didn't understand understand why anyone would want to read about them. She didn't trust it. It felt superficial. Her arguments were compelling. I have sometimes been put off by things that people write. And I wrote some really dopey stuff in my time. Personal blogging is fraught. Better to be a pundit, I suppose.
But I have met some amazing people and I love reading about their lives.
There are things I need to be doing. I'm trying to decide what needs to be done (water the plants, pack stuff for lunches, clean up) and stuff I want to be do (clean the back room, clean up a lot). I might just bag it all and take a nap.

Last week was difficult. No matter how hard I work I never feel like it's enough. I leave work emotionally, physically and mentally drained most of the time.
So. I do not write.
Facebook sometimes feels like blogging. And lately I've been connecting with old friends there. They find me or I find them. Something about that has made me want to communicate. I just rarely feel like I have much to say.
Something is shifting. Not sure what.

I'm just ridiculously bad at this now.

Sigh.

I had an idea to make this be my main blog and redirect things here and I was all wound up about it but ... really ... the reasons I haven't done it yet are boring and long winded.

And not being able to do it frustrated me.

And that combined with a short but nasty illness and a manic bout of reorganizing and cleaning.

And I just shut down.

Sigh. Again.

So.

I have been doing massive purging in my apartment. I think they're opening a new branch of the Goodwill with all the stuff I've dumped. I rearranged the furniture in the living room, which involved much stacking of books. The new arrangement doesn't totally work but I kind of like it. The next big push will be the kitchen. I'll need to move the butcher block and shelf to clean the floor. Lots of washing and dusting and tossing out of food stuff that may not need to be tossed but has been around too long to want to use. Like year old olive oil. Yech.

I'm saying that this is all in preparation for Mom's two month visit but I want to do it.

And the weeks just go by.