It's that time of year.

There's a misconception that California is always warm. It's not always warm. It's just always not-that-cold. We do have our rainy days. Some winter nights get down to the thirties. Yes, I know this is laughable for people who live in places where their contact lenses freeze to their eyeballs, but I'm just saying that we do have temperature fluctuations here.

Spring is definitely in the air. It's getting warm. Most days this week, the skies have been blue and it's been a pleasant 75 degrees. I've been eating lunch in the sun. I've been thinking about wearing shorts.

And here's where this post comes in.

Shorts.

I am more than willing to admit that I need to gain weight. My legs were always kind of gangly, even when I had no issues with food; but anorexia took a toll on my limbs, and by toll I mean that when I dance, I kind of look like a flailing tarantula. My core is relatively in tact, but there are these skinny-as-hell limbs. Every year, when the summer clothes start appearing on the clothes racks, I think, "Maybe this year, I'll gain enough weight to look healthy in shorts."

I don't frequent malls, so I don't often have to deal with clothes racks. But, I do frequent Target, and I pass by the clothes section. They have shorts, of course. As I was browsing the other day, I thought, "How many more freaking years am I going to dream of being able to wear shorts? How many more summers am I going to be wearing holey sweatpants through August?"

Recovery is a strange place. Eating enough feels wrong; not eating enough feels wrong. Gaining weight feels wrong; losing weight feels wrong. Looking healthy in shorts feels wrong; looking like two toothpicks wearing shorts feels wrong, too. It was easier, in many ways, to be full-force in my eating disorder. I had direction then. I wanted to lose weight. I wanted to cut calories with reckless abandon. I didn't give a shit about shorts.

Now, though, I want to be healthy. I want it so badly. I want to be able to know my body is happy with me. I don't know what weight makes my body happy, and I'm really not interested in numbers anymore. I just want to be healthy. I want to wear shorts with pride, knowing that my legs are the shape nature wants them to be. And I want to wear a smile on my face along with that knowledge.

***
Today's gratitude:
1. The almost-cleaned-out storage unit. We've had this stupid storage unit for a year, holding remnants of our single years. Well, mostly remnants of his single years. The goods include a ton of random electronics (I married a major nerd and he came with a lot of cables), some snowboarding stuff, and a framed Bruce Lee poster as tall as Bruce Lee himself. My husband is finally selling things and doing away with the storage unit. We can't afford to keep the sucker anyway.

2. "Marley & Me." Damn it, why did I watch this? I have a crying headache.

3. Split pea soup (with some parmesan on top) and a big hunk of ciabatta with butter. Just what I needed. Now, for dessert...

4. My mom is visiting tomorrow! Nobody makes me feel better than my mom. I just love being with her.

5. Being naughty. I told my work I have a long dentist appointment tomorrow, so I can spend a few hours with my mom. I feel guilty. I'm too responsible for my own good. Screw it. I need mom time.

Going vegetarian?

This past weekend, I took it easy. For me, taking it easy is actually very hard. For most of Saturday, I succeeded (yes, I had to look at it as a challenge to satisfy the accomplishment whore in me) at being completely and utterly lazy. I don't think I got off the couch, except to get food and pee. I read. I napped. I watched a couple movies. One of those movies was "Fast Food Nation." I'd read the non-fiction book before and the movie crept up the Netflix queue, so I watched it.

Let me just say that if you really love your meat, don't watch this movie. Decapitated cows. Gushing blood. Skin-peeling machines. People actually have jobs removing kidneys and intestines on the production lines. Need I say more?

After watching this, I'm seriously considering going vegetarian. It's something I've thought about before, but I'm wary of introducing any food restriction into my life, even if the reasons are not related to calories. I just feel kind of gross when I think about eating something that used to have eyeballs. For a while, I rationalized that I would eat anything that I thought I could kill with my bare hands (or a pointy stick) if I was desperate. So, poultry and fish were OK. But, I've read so much about how they're breeding fish and mistreating chickens and all that.

Also, I've been reading more and more about living "green." It's something I never really gave a shit about before, but I find myself caring more. It's the pictures of the melting ice caps, and the swimming polar bears that can't find an ice block to call home, that really get to me. I found these stats: Farmed livestock is responsible for 18% of global greenhouse gas emissions and 37% of methane emissions; and 65% of emissions of nitrous oxide come from cow manure. All together, livestock produces more greenhouse gases than cars, trucks, SUVs, and airplanes...combined.

The thing is that I would really miss chicken, turkey, and fish if I were to go vegetarian. I don't really like those faux meat products, so my life would involve lots of beans, tofu, and an inherent increase in a particular bodily function. My husband says, "Baby, we were born to be carnivores." I guess I understand this. Am I just being a big wuss? Do I need to stop looking at packages of ground meat and thinking about what could be mashed up in there? If that's the case, just tell me. Please. I'll get over it and move on.

If you are vegetarian, what are your thoughts? If you are a firm believer in eating meat, what are your thoughts?

***
Today's 5 gratitudes:

1. I did not commit homicide. Trust me, I was close. I wanted to kill my husband when we got his tax bill. Let's just say he did not plan well. But, we talked it through, we have a plan for this upcoming year. We'll survive. F*%#@ taxes.

2. I can feel my big toe! Taking it easy this weekend seems to have helped matters. I still have some weird tingling, but I was able to go for a walk, because the voice in my head said, "Hey, hey, I WANT to go for a walk."

3. I'm keeping my last name (for now). I decided. I told my husband. We're fine with it. He did say, "Well, Psychology Today says that it's better for kids if their parents have the same last name." This brings up two questions: When in hell is he reading my Psychology Todays? And, when in hell did we decide to have kids?

4. New breakfasts. I get in breakfast ruts sometimes. I can eat oatmeal for like 217 days straight, I think. I've been mixing things up, throwing in some yogurt and granola and peanut butter and english muffins.

5. The Twilight books. I'm so ashamed to be reading these. The only way I can rationalize it is that my friend who just got her PhD in literature read all of them. As she described it: "It's like a car wreck, where you want to turn away, but you just can't." The writing is horrific. The romance brings me back to the days when I wrote notes and put them in guys' lockers. It's so adolescent. But, I've found myself almost done with the second book. What?

I can't feel my big toe.

According to my parents (both physical therapists), I've done something to my sciatic nerve in my back. There is this odd pain radiating from my lower back and down my leg, all the way to that little piggy that went to the market. I don't know how I did this. I was on my daily walk yesterday and I did notice a twinge of something down my leg, but I dismissed it. After all, it's just walking, right? What harm could that do? The only other "exercise" I do is yoga, which I do on my own, while watching the news in the morning. This means I kind of just stretch and wait for the handsome financial reporter dude to say something smart. I don't sweat. Ever.

Still, while I'm not an overexerciser in the calorie-burning sense, I know some of my attitudes about exercise are a little disordered. For one, I feel excessively guilty that I don't exercise more. I've come to terms with this guilt, accepted its presence, because I really do hate cardio, but...the guilt's still there. And I think if I was truly healthy-minded, it wouldn't be. Also, I seem to have attached some overimportant meaning to the exercise...or, in my case, slight body movements...that I do engage in. I think the walks and yoga are part of some formula that keep my body "in check." I'd say that about 70% of the time, the reason I go for walks or do yoga have nothing to do with the pleasure of the activity. That's just...sad.

My parents told me to lay off any walking or yoga. They told me to lay off, in general. They told me to spend the weekend on my back (and not in that fun way you're thinking...that would probably not help matters). This is difficult for me, but I kind of welcome an "excuse" to take it easy. And, there, right there...that's how I know my exercising, in whatever form it takes, is not for the right reasons. If I'm sorta happy to ditch my routine for a while, that probably means I don't enjoy it all that much. Life is about enjoyment (or I want it to be), so...

I'm drawing my own conclusions.

I know, I'm super quick.

The Name Change

I'm looking at a list of steps I need to take to adopt my husband's last name: Submit a form and other documentation (birth certificate? driver's license? passport?) to Social Security; make an appointment to deal with the dreaded DMV; submit a form and other crap to the Passport Agency; contact whoever needs my new name -- banks, credit card institutions, the post office, my employer, voter registration, car insurance provider, health insurance provider, utility administrators, state tax authority...

As I'm looking at these steps, I'm thinking this:
I
Don't
Want
To
Do
This.

There, I said it.

This seems like a gigantic pain in the ass, requiring the enlistment of several, likely-incompetent customer service people. But, I won't kid myself. I'm not one to shy away from projects (after all, I completed a 22-page scrapbook with highlights from our Japan trip in less than 3 hours yesterday). I know that the pain-in-the-ass reason is not the only reason I don't want to do this.

I feel like taking on my husband's name is a betrayal of my family. Maybe that sounds melodramatic. But, I love my family. I'm very close to my parents, and it makes me sad that I won't be a Hooper anymore. That's my last name, by the way. I've wondered whether or not to share it, but to hell with it; I'm proud of it. It's cool. It's the name of the Richard Dreyfuss character in "Jaws." My favorite line: "Hooper drives the boat, chief!" Hooper DOES drive the boat. CHIEF.

Anyway, I don't want to be a...Johnson.

Also, I feel like there's just so much I've done with MY name. I've written loads of short stories, several novels. Granted, they sit on my computer, away from the public, but I think I'll get them out there soon, and I want to do so as Kim Hooper. I know writers use pen names, but it just doesn't feel the same to me. And, of course, I've tackled this anorexia as Kim Hooper. I've been going through recovery as Kim Hooper.

Part of this feels like a legitimate identity crisis, with a validated sadness. And part of it feels like a control issue, and I'm not sure whether to let go or not.

My question for you is: What would you do? Or, if you're already married, what did you do?

***
Gratitude for today:
1. The Japan scrapbook! It came out so beautiful. I'm proud of myself. I haven't been crafty in quite a while.
2. Target. How come I can't leave Target without spending less than $75? It's the DVDs, and the food section, that do me in. I mean, hey, when you're there for just toothpaste and some glue, but you see a movie on sale for $9.99, and oatmeal on sale for $2.50 (for the BIG one!), what are you gonna do?
3. Target gift cards. From my wedding. Yay.
4. Book splurge. I went to Barnes & Noble yesterday, where I'm pretty much like a kid in a candy shop. I got the new cookbook, A Homemade Life, from the writer of Orangette. It looks great so far -- some real life stories mixed in with recipes. I'm not much of one to use recipes (I'm very lazy that way), but I love her writing style.
5. My car is healthy. I got an oil change yesterday, and some other minor repairs. I hate dealing with car issues, but I always feel very confident when it's over.

50 Ways to Leave your ED

Ok, so this may be a little out there. I was listening to the Paul Simon song, "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover," while I was on a walk this morning, hoping that somewhat-cold air would wake me up and make me less delirious. Judging by the idea that popped into my head, I don't think the walk helped with the delirium. Anyway...

The song starts like this: "'The problem is all inside your head,' she said to me. The answer is easy if you take it logically. I'd like to help you in your struggle to be free. There must be fifty ways to leave your lover."

I thought, "Hmm, I've often been told that if I just lived/ate according to logic, I would be 'recovered.'" So, if I had to come up with 50 cut-and-dry ways to leave my ED, what would they be? Well, here you go:

1. Find a therapist who "gets" you (even if you have to go through a few retards who never should have gotten their psychology degrees).
2. Consult a psychiatrist if you or your therapist think meds may help with any depression, anxiety, etc.
3. Start to eat all "regular" food. This means no "light" or "reduced fat" or "fat free" versions. Note: I think it's probably ok to go back to these if you really prefer them, but when first embracing recovery and freedom, I think it's essential to have regular ice cream and mayo and cheese and all that...just to show yourself you can.
4. Eat snacks between meals. Keep your blood sugar even to keep your sanity.
5. Buy things at the grocery store without looking at the nutrition info.
6. Go to a restaurant and order something on the menu that you really want, as opposed to the "healthy" option.
7. Say "yes" to a sponanteous social invitation involving a snack or meal.
8. Invite someone to a social outing involving a snack or meal.
9. Say "no" to something you really don't want to do. Disappointing people and sitting with it is really important, I think.
10. Speak your mind. Express what you want, what you don't want, etc.
11. See how it feels to not exercise for a week or two. Again, I think exercise can be healthy, but if it's been abused, I think it's important to show yourself that you don't HAVE to do it.
12. Ban fashion and celebrity magazines for a while. I don't think pictures of models in bikinis cause eating disorders, but they're triggering. If you're really into fashion and style and all that, you can come back to the magazines later.
13. Change up your breakfasts, lunches, and dinner to make sure you're not getting into ruts.
14. Follow a meal plan.
15. Stop following a meal plan when you and your treatment team think it's not necessary, or even inhibiting.
16. Don't worry about what everyone around you is eating (or not eating).
17. Get enough sleep.
18. Stop body checks. I don't know any easy way to do this, aside from just stopping.
19. Don't get on the scale. There's no weight that will make you feel good for any length of time.
20. Stop counting.
21. Make a list of fear foods and start adding them back in, one at a time.
22. Read Carrie Arnold's blog. In general, join the blog community.
23. Keep a journal. Even if you don't consider yourself a "writer," getting out feelings on paper (or computer screen) can be therapeutic.
24. Try not to give a shit about clothing sizes because they don't make sense.
25. Create a playlist of songs that make you feel good.
26. Spend some money. For some reason, food restriction --> money restriction. Buy something you want.
27. Do nice things for yourself -- a manicure/pedicure, a massage, a long bath, a hair cut, a book binge, whatever you're into.
28. Keep a list (mental or actual) of things you're looking forward to in life, whether it's a movie release date for this summer, or a vacation you daydream about, or children you want at some point.
29. Accept yourself as you are. When you do that, all those things you wanted to change will probably change on their own.
30. Cry.
31. Know you're not alone.
32. Don't be ashamed. You have an illness.
33. Open up to people in your life you can trust -- even if it's just one particular friend or family member.
34. Forgive yourself.
35. Take a trip (big or small) just to see how it feels to be out of your element for a while.
36. Do whatever it is you need to do during stressful times (i.e. holidays with the family) to stay healthy, whether it's bringing your own food, or making a deal with yourself to eat what they eat, or just not going at all.
37. Make a list of your food rules.
38. Break rules, one at a time.
39. Keep in mind certain mantras: "Your body is a temple" or "You only live once" or "It's just food" -- things like that.
40. If you have a significant other, do your best to educate him/her, but also know another person can't "fix" you. It's your battle to fight and win.
41. Have several favorite DVDs on hand to watch at a moment's notice.
42. Love an animal. They'll love you back, no questions asked.
43. Do absolutely nothing for an entire day (aka tell the productive perfectionist in you to shove it).
44. Think about some comfort foods from childhood and let them comfort you again. For me, it's cookies dunked in milk so long they're soggy, and mac-and-cheese.
45. Fill in the blank: "If I didn't have an eating disorder, I would _______." Then, ask yourself why you can't fill in the blank NOW.
46. Write a letter to your body, acknowledging damage you've done and how you plan to treat yourself well.
47. If you find yourself in front of a mirror for longer than 45 seconds, step away.
48. If you find yourself surrounded by women discussing diets, step away.
49. Keep a sense of humor about it all.
50. Go for walks when you feel delirious or anxious or upset or whatever. While doing so, listen to Paul Simon and come up with weird blog ideas.

Those are just MY 50 ways :) What do you have to add?

Forgotten gratitude

I just realized that my last few posts have not included my 5 gratitudes for the day. So, I have some catching up to do. I thought quite a bit about gratitude yesterday. I thought about happiness and how it's not this passive thing that just happens. Well, for some lucky bastards, I think it is, but for me and lots of other people, it's an active choice that comes from perspective.

Something clicked as I was fretting over my husband's sleep schedule, feeling annoyed that he was waking me up as he came to bed at 4 or 5am, feeling annoyed watching the clock as he slept in until 1 or 2pm. I asked myself, "Why is this REALLY a problem?" It's not. I decided to look at it differently.

When I get up in the morning (around 6 or 7am, usually), I have about 6-7 hours FOR ME. That's a GOOD thing, or it can be if I choose to look at it that way. This weekend, I used those hours to work on my new novel. I took baths. I read. At night, yes, I hate having my sleep disturbed, but I decided if he wakes me up when he comes to bed (which he does about 70% of the time, though he really tries to be quiet), I will roll toward him instead of away from him. Instead of sighing loudly and getting agitated, I will cuddle with him. I know it seems silly, but it was a huge shift for me.

Of course, I think similar shifts can be made in the way I look at recovery. Often, I view my eating disorder as this burden I have to bear. I wonder why my brain is wired the way it is. I curse it. I pout about my food needs. I get, well, pissy. But, the thing is, my anorexia (and recovery from it) has taught me so much about myself, and has also made me more compassionate in general. I don't judge people like I used to, because I know we all have our "issues." Through all this, I've learned so much about my feelings, about what I want, about what I fear to want, about food (and its connection to my feelings and what what I want and what I fear). The characters in my stories are richer because of what I've learned along the way. My appreciation of life is richer, too.

In short, I'm trying to think this: I don't HAVE to recover from anorexia, but I GET to.

Here's some catch-up gratitude:

• "Flight of the Conchords." My husband and I hate watching TV, but we love DVDs. We recently ran out of episodes of "30 Rock" and were sick of watching "Arrested Development" and "The Office" over and over again. Along comes "Flight of the Conchords" -- great show.
• Movie tears. I was a bawling mess while watching "Rachel Getting Married." It just moved me. The recovering drug addict, played by Anne Hathaway, reminded me so much of myself in the worst of my anorexia -- so self-consumed, closed-off. I cried and cried. A couple nights later, we watched this Steve Carrell movie, "Dan in Real Life." For some reason, my husband started bawling during this one scene, and then I was crying just watching him cry. You had to be there, I guess. Still, I love tears. Any time I see those "depression questionnaires," there's always the, "Do you cry more than normal?" inquiry. My answer is YES, and I'm glad I do. I feel now more than I ever have before.
• My new knit blanket. My mom's best friend's mother knitted a blanket for me for my wedding gift. I don't know why, but it's one of my favorite gifts. My cats seem to like it, too.
• Kitties! Oh hell, I'm always grateful for them. They are very happy with my working-at-home situation, that's for sure. There's some kind of stray cat invading their space. I'm so protective that I wonder if maybe I would be a good mom...
• Ciabatta bread. I've been obsessed lately. Ciabatta bread dipped in olive oil, ciabatta bread sandwiches with chicken and mushrooms and onions and swiss cheese, ciabatta bread with butternut squash soup.
• BLOGS. I never thought I would be so involved in the blogosphere. I never thought I'd use the word "blogosphere." I'm touched nearly every day.
• My new novel. I have a love/hate relationship with my in-progress writing career. I put so much pressure on myself that I forget the true LOVE of writing. I found it again recently, and I hope saying that didn't jinx it. The Japan trip is weaving its way into the story. I wrote 24 pages, long-hand, this weekend.
• Short stories and readings. I have an Open Mic coming up on 4/12, and a special showcase on 5/3. The piece I'm reading then may even be recorded and available online. I'll keep you posted.
• Baths! Ever since the onsens in Japan, I want a HUGE bath tub. For now, I'll settle for my normal-sized one.
• "Unaccustomed Earth," the short story collection from Jhumpa Lahiri. I love her writing.
• My nails. I'm not biting them for once.
• Yoga. It was good for me to not do it for a few weeks (with the wedding and the trip and all). It made me appreciate it all over again for what it is -- calming stretching (well, that's what it is for me). It was good for me to see that I don't HAVE to do it; I want to.
• My iPod. The thing is attached to me, especially in these hours before my husband wakes up. Janis Joplin, Paul Simon, Van Morrison...these are some comforts lately.
• Walks, in good California weather. Need I say more?

I think that's a hefty list. I have a lot to be thankful for. I'm not "happy" every day, that's for sure, but at least I'm getting more aware of why I should be :)

When the honeymoon is over

There is some truth to the rumored sadness associated with the end of the honeymoon. And, I'm not just talking about the end of the actual honeymoon trip; I'm talking about the end of the wedding, the end of the anticipation of the wedding, the end of the buzz of family members and friends, the end of the surreal exit from real life. Saying "I do" was a real high. Going to Japan was a real high. Coming back to reality is...hard.

With the exception of some persistent jet lag (I get ridiculously tired around 4pm and keep waking up at odd times in the middle of the night), things are pretty much back to normal. About 8 days into our Japan trip, "normal" is what I was craving. I missed my routine. I missed my cats. I missed doing yoga. I missed my usual foods. I missed my DVDs. Now, I miss waking up with my husband, intent on exploring a new destination, excited by the unknown. I miss having NO control over my food choices and eating intuitively. I miss the challenge of mystery bowls of udon.

But, yes, we're back to our "normal." This means that I am getting up around 7am, turning on my work laptop, and doing my best to go above and beyond to avoid the jobless fate of my former co-workers ("the others," as my boss is now calling them, as if they have passed on to some alien dimension). I am trying to scrounge up more freelance work, too. We just got our tax bills (well, I got mine; we're waiting on his, breath held). We owe. My husband is self-employed, and his company hasn't had a job come in for months now. He's been holding out hope that things will turn around, and playing computer games in the meantime. He wakes up around 1pm and plays all day, coming to bed at 4am, often disturbing my sleep. Oh, how I miss waking up and going to bed at the same time, like we did in Japan. Anyway, he has a few months before he's out of company money, meaning my...err, our...personal savings will have to go toward keeping his business alive, or he will have to decide to let it die a painful death and seek out "regular" employment in an economy that isn't offering much. Sigh...

I'm back to my "normal" eating. I admit it was great to go to the store and load up on my staples, but I feel a little stuck again. I don't want to be too hard on myself because I'm eating pretty well, but it's the same ol' stuff. No mysterious bowls of udon. I'm back to knowing EXACTLY what I'm eating, scanning nutrition labels and all. My husband is back to his "normal" eating too, which is more like non-eating. I've talked about this before. With his weird sleeping schedule, he only eats one time (dinner with me). One meal a day. That's it. On our honeymoon, we had 3 meals a day together. It was nice. Sure, I still ate more -- insisting on trying the desserts after nearly every meal -- but at least he was eating 3 meals with me. Now, we're back to where we were. Let me say that my husband has no energy about food. He doesn't have an ed in any way. He's just totally apathetic about eating and won't do it unless he's absolutely starving or unless I insist (hence, dinner together). It drives me absolutely crazy. I know this is MY issue, but still. Obviously, I lack confidence in the way I eat. I like a proper gauge of what "healthy" is...and the man I live with does not provide that gauge. And I get mad about that, in a very toddler-like fashion (i.e., "Waaaaaaa").

I guess I'm back to the conclusion that even though I'm married, I have to focus on me. My husband and I are not always going to be in synch -- with food, with sleeping, with sex. Life is not a honeymoon. I can recenter myself, refocus on my eating needs and the other things in life that make me who I am. I've got some cool creative writing opportunities coming up, including being part of a short story showcase called DimeStories. I've got a stack of books I can't wait to read, a Netflix queue that is very full. I'm just a little sad, that's all. It'll pass.

Always & Never

Carrie Arnold's post, "Just...today," got me thinking about how I have such a hard time accepting the present for what it is. Two overused, bothersome words in my everyday dialogue (within the confines of my mind and with others) are: Always and Never.


Cases in point:

• I ate so much food today. I'm always going to eat this much.
• I gained weight. I'm never going to stop gaining.
• I'm going to get laid off and I'll never find another job.
• I couldn't get inspired to work on my novel today. I'll never write again.
• I'm upset today. I'm always going to be upset.
• I skipped yoga today. I may never do it again.
• I couldn't sleep last night. I'm always going to be a grouchy insomniac.
• I've spent a lot of money lately. What if I never stop spending?

You get the idea.


I've come to think that anorexia LOVES the words Always and Never. They are quite confining words, are they not? If I were to accept that my appetite will vary from day to day, along with my food preferences, the anorexia would lose power. It likes me to think in extremes -- fat/overindulgent or thin/restricting (and, of course, fat/overindulgent is shameful and awful). It likes me to see black and white -- no gray allowed. If I were to accept that bad moods come and go (along with good ones), if I were to embrace the ebb and flow that is human (yes, human, not "weird" or "bad"), if I were to sit with uncertainty instead of catastrophizing things to create certainty (even if it's a bad certainty), I would probably be much calmer. My sister likes to make a joke of my catastrophizing. Any time I go on a trip, for example, she says, "Uh oh, I bet your cats are going to die, your house will burn down, and you'll lose your job while you're gone." Ha-freaking-ha.


I'm trying to catch myself when I use these words. Are they ever appropriate? There's the common saying, "Never say never." I would add: "Never say always." Life seems like a bunch of question marks to me. I'm not always going to eat 4 slices of large pizza when we get delivery. I was just starving the other night, and that's OK. Just because I'm sick of fish doesn't mean I'm never going to eat it again. These are food examples, but I think food is a metaphor for the way I think about most things. For example, I'm not always going to get along with my husband, and that's OK. I'm not always going to feel like writing. I'm not always going to be a great employee. I'm not always going to have steady paychecks. And just because I don't know what I want for my future in this exact moment (pets, kids, etc) doesn't mean I'll never know.


In the words of my sister: "Just chill."


I really don't know how we're related.

Significance

I'm still recovering from jet lag, spending most of my time sorting through pictures instead of doing the other things on my to-do list. I'm just so tired.

I took a picture of this sign in front of a shrine in Kyoto. What's strange about Japan is that there are temples and shrines (shinto and Buddhist) right in the middle of cities. This one was about a block from McDonald's, for example.

In my sleepy haze, I've been thinking about what it says: "Let us discover the signficance of birth..."

There have been moments when I have wished I wasn't born, which is a far more depressing thought than wishing to die, I think. I have wondered why I matter, why my life is important. When I have what I call my existential crisis moments, when I ask why I'm here, I often talk to my husband. I get his perspective. I ask him why he thinks he's here. He just shrugs and says, "To enjoy myself." Is it that simple?

I will always overthink. I've accepted this. I will always be looking for some grand meaning to my life, but maybe it isn't all that serious. Maybe it is that simple. I don't have to be extraordinary. In fact, it sounds kind of liberating to be ordinary, but calm and content. In fact, THAT sounds extraordinary. I don't have to publish a book. I don't have to live in a 4-bedroom house with a pool and a garage. I don't have to make a ton of money. I don't have to be the "perfect" eater. I don't have to exercise if I don't want to.

In a way, I think the significance of birth, of life, comes in recognizing that we assign importance to things that really aren't significant at all. When I'm on my death bed, I don't think I'm going to smile thinking about all those calorie logs I kept, all the ways I balanced carbs and proteins and fats "perfectly." I don't think I'm going to feel peaceful while recalling my healthy bank accounts and color-coordinated closet and always-clean dishes.

I think I've forgotten what it means to just "enjoy myself." There's not much room for enjoyment when I'm operating according to a bunch of "shoulds." But, I'm relearning, in small ways. Today, for example, I'm putting off some work so I can relax. I watched a couple episodes of "The Office" while eating microwaved popcorn. I read while taking a bath. At this moment, I'm snuggling with my cats and trying to remember if I have everything I need to make chicken tortilla soup tonight. This is the joy of living, isn't it?

What do you think is the significance of birth, the joy of living?

I'm back!

So much to say, so many pictures to post, so few brain cells left due to jet lag. First of all, I have to say how much I've missed blogland. I confess that there was one day during our trip when I snuck away from my husband, in a stealth-like, ninja fashion, to find an Internet lounge and read your blogs. I couldn't seem to get caught up enough. After a while, I ran out of 100-yen coins so I had to walk away, like a downtrodden slot machine junkie in Vegas. I'm still catching up, so bear with me.

On to the adventures...

The wedding -- Friday, February 27th

In one word, it was beautiful! I wasn't sure what to expect from a courthouse ceremony. I was envisioning being "squeezed in" between a DUI case and a divorce proceeding. But, it was actually very personal and sweet. The two of us and about 15 of our closest family members were escorted into a private room. During the vows and the "I do" and the exchanging of the rings, I got a little teary-eyed (or, as my husband likes to say, "I think it was a little dusty in there"). We had a nice lunch after. Our families got along well. His divorced parents hadn't seen each other in 15 or so years, so we were a bit afraid, but it was all fine. I was really touched by everyone's love and support.

The party -- Saturday, February 28th

My parents hosted the party at their house. I have to say it's mostly a blur. The best moments were spent with my select few girlfriends, my sister, and my parents. I'm not great with small talk and I was overwhelmed by the 60-something guests. I felt like just wearing a sign to answer all their questions: "We leave on our honeymoon tomorrow. Yes, we know it's a long flight. No, we don't want to have children any time soon, or maybe ever. Yes, my hair stylist did a good job. And I got my dress from J. Crew." In typical, awkward Kim form, I stepped on my dress while standing to hug my dad's cousin's wife (really, there were lots of random relatives!), and proceeded to show her my right boob. That was swell. Still, all in all, it was a fun day. The catered Italian food was great. I had TWO big slices of cake because, hell, IT'S MY WEDDING AND I'LL EAT CAKE IF I WANT TO. After everyone left, we unwrapped gifts. Again, I was touched. Our friends and family are so generous.

The honeymoon -- March 1-13 -- Japan!

We had an amazing time. There was one day of constant rain and soaked jeans, another day when I was sleep-deprived and moody, and another day when my husband did something weird to his leg (too much exercise for a computer nerd who is usually desk-bound, I guess), but, much like a wedding, I don't think there is a "perfect" honeymoon. It was perfect FOR US though. We got to practice our Japanese. We got to look at lots of plastic food in store windows and try to figure out what it was. We got to ride the shinkansen (bullet train). Some highlights:

-The Park Hyatt Tokyo. This is the hotel featured in "Lost in Translation." It felt so luxurious. From our room, we had the most amazing view of the city.

-Ryokans (traditional Japanese inns). We stayed at one in this little town called Nikko, where there was still snow on the ground. And we stayed at another on this island called Miyajima. Basically, you wear a yakata (like a casual kimono), drink green tea, sit on the floor, and sleep on the ground. Oh, and you use the hot spring baths!

-Onsens! These are the hot spring baths. At first, I was skeptical. They are public baths. You strip down to nothing, wash off at a shower stall area, and get in. You are afforded a "modesty towel," but the thing is really kind of pointless. Anyway, because we didn't visit during tourist season and we were in somewhat-remote areas, I had the bath to myself most of the time (men and women are separated, by the way). I just felt so peaceful. After bathing, there are all kinds of special lotions. I felt like a queen.

-The bullet train. Riding the train is the best way to see the countryside, to see how people live, in their tile-roofed homes, with their clothes hanging outside. We got a great view of Mt. Fuji on the ride between Kyoto and Tokyo.

-Heated toilet seats. Seriously. Even stalls in train stations had these. I want one for home.

-Karaoke! We tried this one night, in our own little room. I sang "Pour some sugar on me" by Def Leppard. I don't know why. Alcohol was not involved.

-Random deer. In Nikko and Miyajima, they just wander around. I felt like I was in a Disney movie. They're also all over Nara. We visited there on the rainy day.

-Random monkeys. These actually scared me a little. Crazy things.

-Random cats. I always seem to find cats wherever I go. On this trip, I ran into some at Himeji Castle and at Fushimi Inari shrine. Weird.

-Hiroshima Peace Park. This was more moving for me than I thought it would be. We went to the museum and relearned about what happened with the atomic bomb dropped in 1945. It's just so sad, and I'm afraid to say that I don't think the world is getting any safer or less cruel.

-The "floating" Itsushima Shrine. It really just looks like it's floating during high tide, but still very cool.

I'm sure there's more I'm leaving out. I also have to say that the FOOD was a BIG highlight. I think this trip showed me how far I've come with my eating disorder. I've been reading some posts lately about how to distinguish between what's disordered and what's just a preference. I think if you can step outside your comfort zone and not starve, who cares if you want multigrain bread instead of white (when given the option)? I have certain food preferences, and THAT'S OK. When my usual foods aren't available, I do just fine. I dare to say I was an adventurous eater in Japan. Sure, there were a few lazy nights, when we got $60 tuna sandwiches and french fries for room service (but, hey, fries are adventure for me!), and there were 4 days in a row when we went to the same waffle shop for breakfast (because who wants miso soup in the morning?), but in general, I ate like the Japanese eat.

The Japanese LOVE their food. Their philosophy is, "Don't ask questions. Just enjoy." For a girl accustomed to analyzing nutrition labels, this was a bit difficult at first. But, I got the hang of it. I ate many-a-bowl of udon or soba noodles with mysterious broths and even more mysterious meats (or sometimes fried tofu). Some of my favorite food moments:

-Sushi FOR BREAKFAST at the Tsukiji Fish Market in Tokyo. That sushi, along with the sushi we ate at this hole-in-the-wall in Kyoto is by far the best I've ever had. I take back my dislike of raw fish.

-The chocolate stuffed waffle treats called momiji manju.

-Kirin beers in top-floor hotel bars.

-Piranha! I'm not kidding. At one of the inns we stayed at, this was part of the "traditional meal" (along with a raw shrimp that I could not bring myself to eat). The piranha still had its eyeballs and its teeth. I covered that with the decorative bamboo leaf garnish and dug in.

-Green tea ice cream with sweet red beans and rice dumplings. I LOVED this so much!

-Tofu cheesecake. I don't think they serve this to be "healthy"; tofu is just very available. I also had a tofu soft serve ice cream. It was purple so I'm not sure what that was about. I didn't ask questions :)

By the time we got home, we couldn't wait to order a pizza. We devoured the whole thing. It's good to be back. My body is still confused. I went to bed at 9pm last night and woke up at 2am, thinking it felt like morning time. I have a friend's bachelorette party to attend tonight. Hopefully I can hold up well enough.

Wow. I'm a married lady. Life's good.