Caught by any little thing.
what's been happening? I made it through a week of self-presentation--related to all the previous job-apping I'd done.
I got sick (related to that cough I mentioned, which became headache, tiredness, nausea). Got better.
I did not read much.
I finished my volunteer hours. So, the $200 I have left is my own to hoard.
I volunteered with WYP.
I dug more stuff out of trash cans at Goleta Beach for breakfast, post-dinner.
I found perhaps 16 good sandwiches (near a cafe on campus)--healthy if moderated, but managed to sort of eat them in one day.
So I went to my first overeaters anonymous meeting. I did lock my blog a while back--and change the name. Trying to make it a bit less likely googling my name would find this. . . but that may not matter.
Getting the jobs may not matter. The ending of motivation related to them--(the motivation of) getting, applying, working them--may be the point.
But those were dreams. I had dreams--dreams were in me, tho small, tho short.
I loved the campus--I loved what I saw, noticed--how much was going on, for me walking, for someone outside of car.
I took pictures. I tired of walking and lugging. I spent the night, several nights, in spot closer to campus where the bikes go close by--a bit more company (more human presence--I desired this), less of a walk.
[I saw the outdoor-dwelling princess. She's only occasionally seen by early risers. Dressed in drab colors, stylish, fit well, silhouetted against the 6am bright grey of morning ocean, herself appropriately nourished (?), she feeds seagulls from a trash-can find--joyful, dancerly silhouette, does she know we watch and love and she makes us want to live.
She walks the trail with a mesh bag over shoulder. She walks quickly. Believe it was her I followed my first early morning near Goleta Beach. Once she looked down at me--looking quickly away--, I believe, when I slept in trailside.
That morning, a bike-riding male outdoor-dweller passed me by, and sat on bike, watching her. Maybe I'd watch longer were he not there. Took a low-res photo of them both, & walked on, glancing back. One of us? A woman? Is she that fine? Why? And her fear, secret?
What would I see could I more than fleeting glance? What would I see in her face. Where is her spot?
(gradually) forgotten, until writing now.
The young run, dance, bike--I did respond to a craigslist ad looking for volunteer performers of a simple motion (a move to a beat, a foot-high hop). But I move ever less? The food death, sluggishness? Well agile mind has made it here now. Happy with that.]
[An older man was checking the cans before me one AM. Not food but not-empty beers (I later guess). Saw him too while cooking there yest pm. He later hunkered down in shallow dunes near me and stealthily, slowly, friendli-ly fed seagulls as pets. He just has a jacket. No bike or bag. And, that pm, a beach blanket.]
I watched Debbie, who interviewed me, model of high-functioning and fitness, lead, awesomely, a water aerobics class. She may even be 60, but perhaps closer to 40. . . for those who function, who can tell?
A new spot tonight. Crows not herons. Más mosquitos.
A new spot.
This is for Kurt, who emailed?
We have these wills. Some of us know not how to use them. "God / Divine / will of life, my life is unmanageable."
What should manage it?
No answers here.
What to do besides eat / wait to get hungry / cook / forage / shop if necessary?
I've narrowed life down.
The hobbies others have--the dreams, by walking, outdoor dwelling, what for me is left, walking away from all the dreams of others.
I went to a CCBER volunteer / intern appreciation cook out / barbecue at Goleta Beach.
So will I now go to OA / FAA / FAIR / EDA meetings just to have something else to do besides eat / wait to get hungry / etc? Sleep / wait to get tired / sleep? Get dirty / wait to get clean? Lug stuff around / wait to get tired of sitting still?
Oh! I invited people out to sail! I might have gone today were it more windy.
Use things, abuse body parts / wait for them to fall apart / wait to repair or remedy them.
We read and write for joy.
Hi, I'm _______________ , I'm a compulsive over-eater / food addict in recovery / bulimic / anorexic / . . .
Hi _______________ !
So many . . .
So much . . .
---
That's all. May paste in previous attempts. May get to pictures. May get to read again?
a breath and a smile.
----------------
from ~0830 this morning:
Asunto: to live without dreams
Back at the beach. The phone offline. The CCBER workers massing. Lagoon Island will burn on 6/15 (that week at least)--someone's doctoral thesis.
Finished volunteering yesterday. I could always volunteer again. Tuesdays and Thursdays are their big days.
My stomach--well, it's much abused. And my eyes too--. But yesterday and today, no abuse really so far.
No dreams. I'm alive. But so easy to give into death habits without life dreams.
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