A bridge over a beautiful waterfall

A bridge over a beautiful waterfall
Nature brings magic

Friday, February 27, 2015

Eating disorders

I have a confession to make. I have an eating disorder.

I don't have anorexia or bulimia, the ones that are the most well known. But I still have one. It has no obvious name. You can't tell by looking at me that I have one. I'm overweight, I don't bing and purge, and I don't count calories.

What I do is simply not eat. I can eat only a single – reasonable – meal in a day. I can go without eating at all in a day. And I can go with normal eating for days/weeks on end before another bout with my eating disorder rears its ugly head.

Yes, the self starvation is a daily thing. Some days are better than others. Other days it takes Himself reminding me constantly to eat to get me to do anything. I can't always tell I'm hungry because I've trained myself not to recognize being hungry. There are times where I haven't eaten in hours and I don't feel hungry. Not because I'm not, but because I have trained by body to ignore the fact that I haven't eaten.

Eating disorders aren't a joking matter. I've heard some really nasty jokes made about people with eating disorders. I've also heard some less than helpful comments made to those of us with eating disorders that are meant to “help”, but instead cause more problems.

This is the article that sparked the idea for this post. My eating disorder doesn't have a name. But I am no less affected by it than someone with the more recognizable eating disorders.

Part of the situation, for me at least, is control. If I can't control everything in my life I have to control something. And eating is something I can control. It also has to do with self esteem. I'm especially vulnerable to bouts of not eating when I'm feeling unhappy about my weight. I feel that if I stop eating I'll lose weight. Intellectually I know that I'll only lose weight if I eat healthy and exercise more. But there are times where logic loses out to emotions.

The longest I went without food was three days. That was when I was a teenager. Someone noticed and sat with me until I ate a full meal. Then I was watched to make sure I ate. I still skipped meals when I could. Usually I could skip breakfast and lunch while I was in school since my parents never paid attention to breakfast and lunch was easy since no one else around me cared. I was chunky in high school too, and people thought I was smart for skipping lunch because of my weight. I'd only eat dinner because that was the one meal my parents controlled.

Eating disorders are nothing to consider as a passing phase. They can lead to a person's death. You need help. If you know someone who has one, talk to them. Encourage them. Try to give them as much support as you can. If you can, talk them into getting help. Tell them to talk to their doctors. Don't tear them down about their appearance. Don't tell them you wish you were as thin as they were. Don't tell them they're fat and need to lose weight. Just support them as they come to a place where they can resolve their issues.

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Fury and Lil meet

Fury gets her first roommate in an interesting way.

The clothing was taken out of the processing unit, all folded and sealed into individual packages. The woman tucked them into bags and handed them to Fiera. “That should do it for you. Now, if you’ll place just tap your credit chip on the pad we’ll have you on your way.” Fiera did as she was told, wincing a little at the cost. She took the bags and started home again.
A terror filled scream stopped her about a street over from her house. She dropped her bags and turned towards the sound. Three men in rough clothing had a slender girl cornered. They were pawing at her and Fiera watched as one of them tore the girl’s shirt. “Slag that,” Fiera said. She jogged over. “What do you scrag heads think you’re doing?”
“Mind your own business, ketch,” one of the men said, turning and glaring at Fiera. “Or we’ll do you next.”
Fiera’s foot lashed out and caught him in the knee cap. He yelped as he went down. She drove her foot into his crotch and whirled around to face the next man. She caught his wrist in a tight grip and turned, flipping him over her shoulder. He too got a boot to the groin. The third man took off running.
Fiera grabbed the swaying woman and looped one of her arms over her shoulder. She went back along the street, stopping only to pick up the bags of clothes. She half carried the other woman to her house. She put the clothes down again long enough to punch in the security code before helping the young woman inside. Fiera got her sitting down in a chair.
“I don’t understand it,” the other woman said, looking up with fear filled eyes. “Why did you help me?”
“You were about to be raped. You expect me to let a bunch of scrag heads do that?” Fiera asked. “Now, what’s your name and where are you supposed to be?”
“Liliana,” the woman said, pulling the tattered remains of her shirt over her chest. “Liliana Farriday. I was on my way back to the dorms when I ran out of money. I was just going to walk home. Then those men started chasing me and I don’t know. I was scared and I couldn’t do anything.”
Fiera took hold of the other girl’s wrists. “You’d be broken in two if you tried to fight,” she said, turning the thin, delicate hands over. “Where are the dorms?”
“East of here, I think. I got turned around running,” Liliana said, tugging her hands free.
“Why didn’t you call a friend to spot you the credits for the cab?” Fiera asked.
“I don’t have very any friends. Most people don’t like me because I’m so strange,” Liliana said. “I just try to keep to myself and not bother anyone.”
“Do you have anything that can’t be replaced at the dorms?” Fiera asked, looking around the house.
“No,” Liliana said. “Just my clothes, and tomorrow I can go get my stipend and buy new ones.”
“You live on campus. Are you there because of a partner or because you’re a student?” Fiera asked.
“Student,” Liliana said. “I just finished my first year.”
“Then you’re staying here,” Fiera said. “I’m not going to let someone as fragile as you wander around loose without a protector. I’m surprised you’ve made it this long without getting raped or beaten.” Liliana paled. “Slag it, you have been assaulted.” Liliana nodded. “Did you ever report it?”
“No,” Liliana said in a small voice. “I'm a Ward of the Planet. That’s how I was able to pay for school and how I get my necessities. No one would have listened to me.”
“You are not going back to the dorms. And we’ll get you some new clothes tomorrow, on my credits,” Fiera said. “You need a protector and since you haven't found one yet, I'll take care of that for you.”
“Why are you doing this?” Liliana asked. “Who are you?”
“My name is Fiera Rezouac and this will be my first year at the university,” Fiera said. “I hate seeing someone who is defenseless get attacked. That's why I stepped in today.”
“What if I don’t want a protector?” Liliana asked.
“I'll spot you the credits to go back to the dorm,” Fiera said. “Is that what you want to do?” She sat down beside Liliana. “You're going to need either a boyfriend or a tough girlfriend to keep you safer than you've been.”
“I don’t like men,” Liliana said. “And none of the other women are any better than I am at defending themselves.”

 “Then take my offer and stay here with me,” Fiera said. “All I ask is you help with the expenses. After tomorrow, you’ll take care of your own clothes.”

Monday, February 23, 2015


I don't have a topic for today, so instead of me rambling on about nothing, have some cute pictures I found surfing around the web.

Friday, February 13, 2015

Writing burn out

I have a confession to make. I've been slacking on my writing. You know about my Netflix addiction if you read Monday's post. But I've also been reading the archives on www.notalwaysright.com and its sister pages. There are a lot of them.

I think the main reason is I just don't feel like writing. I've spent a lot of time working on things and didn't take much in the way of breaks. I am getting some done every day, but sometimes it's only a few paragraphs rather than a few pages.

I've been feeling a little like a failure, though I know I'm not. I'm so used to cranking out sometimes around 4000 to 5000 words a day that only getting a few hundred makes me feel like I'm not doing enough.

I know I should write more. But I haven't figured out which story I want to work on. I was working on the sequel to my NaNo novel, but I realized I need to change a major point in the first one so I stopped on the sequel until I can change what I need to in the first one. I've also got a character I need to work with who changes from one story to the next and I need to give some kind of foreshadowing in the first book about the shift.

I've also got Marked to edit. I'm holding off on that until I get some world building done. I need to make sure I have all the details set in stone before I can do much with the editing. Yet I'm struggling with that too.

I'm not sure what I'm going to do. I know I'm going to figure something out soon but for now I think I'm going to enjoy the relaxation I feel from not writing as much as I usually do. What about you? Do you ever get burned out on something to the point where you need to set it aside for a while?

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

The trip to Bouarus

Fiera, aka Fury, is on her way to the university on one of the central worlds. The shuttle ride takes a long time from her home. Not everyone cares to sit by a girl of the colonies.

 Fiera settled in one of the seats of the transport shuttle. As she leaned back, she heard a little cough at her elbow. A well dressed woman whose clothes screamed central worlds was staring at her. Fiera caught a whiff of some exotic flower and spice. “Excuse me, dear, but I think you’re in the wrong seat.”
Fiera glanced at the seat number. “I’m right where my dad paid for me to be.”
“My dear, there is no one in these backwater planets who could afford something such as this,” the woman said. “I think you should take yourself back to third class now and let whoever really has that seat sit there.”
“I'm perfectly capable of reading a boarding ID,” Fiera said. “So no, I'm not moving.”
The woman’s pleasant smile faded. “I am not spending my trip sitting next to a colonial,” she said.
“You're in the colonies,” Fiera said. “Chances are most of us are from here.”
The woman turned to one of the staff. “Move this girl away from my seat.”
“Young lady, do you have your boarding ID?” the attendant asked.
“Yes I do,” Fiera said. She handed it over.
The attendant scanned the boarding ID. She turned pale as Fiera's name appeared on her pad. “I’m sorry, ma’am. But Ms. Rezouac is quite correct in this is the seat that she paid for. If you wish to move, we can find you a seat back in third class.”
“I demand a new first class seat,” the woman said.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. We're a small shuttle with a limited number of first class seats. All of them are full,” the attendant said. “You can either take the seat you were assigned by the Port Authority or you can move back to third class.”
“I can’t believe this,” the woman said. Her voice was getting louder. “You’re telling me that I’m going to have to spend the entire trip to Ismillon next to some unlettered colonial drek?”
“You’re only going to Ismillon? Then I don’t mind if you sit next to me. I’m heading to Bouarus,” Fiera said with a sweet smile.
“Why should I have to deal with the filth in an indent gang?” the woman asked. She looked like there was something nasty under her nose.
“I am not indentured,” Fiera said. “I’m starting at the university. Biogenetics and Intergalactic Studies.”
The woman started sputtering. Fiera was hard pressed not to start laughing. The attendant looked to be in the same condition. “I insist that I be moved to another seat in first class,” the woman repeated. “Make someone else sit next to this person.”
“I’ll gladly switch with you,” a young man said. “You can have my seat.”
“Thank you,” the woman said. He handed her his boarding pass and took hers. They could hear her shrieks as she was led back to third class.

Monday, February 9, 2015

Netflix addiction

I've got a confession to make. I've been slacking on my writing lately. Not for any important reason. But because I've been watching Netflix.

I run a linux machine. Ubuntu, if you're curious. And for the longest time Netflix didn't work with it. But now, with the most recent update, Netflix works and now I have a new distraction.

What's funny is I have a long list. Much of the things on the list are things like Once Upon a Time, Bones, CSI:NY, and Sherlock to name a few. But what I'm watching isn't those things. I'm watching documentaries and educational programs.

The new Cosmos is on Netflix in its entirety. I've watched all but two episodes of that. I've watched several documentaries on the life in the oceans. I've been satisfying my history desires with documentaries on various things. I have indulged my interest in forensics. In short, I've found myself enjoying many things on Netflix.

It does make it difficult for me to write if I continue watching things. So I've limited myself to two hours watching Netflix. Though I will admit I've watched a few of the things enough that they're background noise for me now.

So, now it's time to get back to the writing. After I watch one more episode of A Blue Planet. ;)