Date Night

Unexpectedly, I have a date tonight.

That is unexpected and sudden in so far, as it is, well - sudden and unexpected.

On my way to meeting with up my friends last night, I was accosted by a rather nice looking, rather handsome and rather well-dressed guy of about my age.

"Excuse me", he said, and I assumed he was going to ask for the time or directions, "Are you hungry by any chance, I'd love to take you out to dinner right now."

I said that I was flattered by the suggestion (because I did like what I saw), but that I was meeting some friends and was already running late, it was past 11 PM and I should have been at the bar half an hour ago.

He said that was a shame and asked whether there was the slightest possibility that we could go for dinner tomorrow instead, and because I was sort of taken by surprise and also in a hurry, I simply gave him my number and said that why not, he could call me and we might plan something but now I really had to go.

I don't know, this might turn out to be a fiasco (I am not a fan of spontaneous almost-blind dates per se), but in keeping with my resolution not to waste my life on anxiety and hesitation anymore, I've decided to give it a shot.
Who knows, that guy, which I am going to nickname T. in the (highly unlikely) event that he actually takes on a recurring role on this blog, might be worth knowing, might be interesting or funny or charming for all I know.

So, I'll let you know how that goes.

Also, I will now be answering a set of questions that the lovely and incredible Petal posed:

1) What is your favourite kind of cake, pie, biscuit, dessert, or sweet thing? (To eat, smell, look at, destroy...)

It varies - To eat, it would be crème brulée, to smell it would have to be Walkers Shortbread Highlanders - I can get high off that smell, I'm not kidding, it is intoxicating like a drug.

To look at, it is now something that I have just discovered - an outlandishly beautiful creation of white chocolate sprinkled with raspberry pieces, ground rose petals and chilli, all blood red on snowy white ground, extremely enchanting to look at and for sale at our local Organic Foods supermarket.

To destroy, it would be chocolate muffins, because I cannot resist them and I hate it; they destroy me from the inside.

2) If you could only listen to one song for the rest of your life, what would it be?

This is such a tough one - spontaneously, my brain came up with "Tower of Song" by Leonard Cohen.
Then again, I would also have to take into consideration "Bring me The Disco King" by David Bowie, because I can physically not go a single music-related question on anything without trying to bring Bowie into it.

Another candidate would be "Acts of Man" by Midlake.

I wonder why none of them are upbeat happy songs.
I guess it says something about me, something sad and very very cliche.

3) What is your favourite part of your body?

My lips, hands down.
They are perfect in my eyes, although that seems very cocky and narcissistic; to lessen that impression I will add that I have had that notion reinforced by quite a few others.

If we were talking body parts outside of the facial region, I would say hands or the region around my waist and ribcage, because I tend to be much slimmer there than anywhere else.

4) Do you paint your toenails and fingernails? If so, what colour, and why?

Sometimes, and when I do it is usually in one of three colours -

A) black, because it brings back fond memories of my "rebellious" teenage years, when I considered it an outrageous fashion statement,
B) some sort of transparent colour because it is practical and doesn't really show when it chips, or
C) bright hot pink, because I consider it an outrageous fashion statement now, coming from myself, and most people who know the usual confines of my style would agree.

5) Do you prefer baths or showers?

This is another tough one, I am very schizophrenic on a lot of issues like that.

There is a part of me that ABSOLUTELY prefers baths, because they are relaxing and contemplative, and that part used to be very dominant and had me bathing far more often than showering in my teenage years.

Then again, there is a part that believes people who only ever bathe are pussies, and that prefers showers because they are quick and cleansing and sharp, and wake you up.
I've been showering more often recently, it seems to be tied in a silly way to my idea of becoming more assertive.

6) Have you seen Alice in Wonderland? If so, what was your opinion on the dancing scene?

I haven't; if I had I'd probably be bitching about the dancing scene because I love to get all flustered about questionably entertaining scenes in movies like that.

7) What means the most to you, and why? This could be anything, an item, an emotion, a person, a place... you decide.

As and abstract concept - freedom.
That is silly because it is such a cliche and an unobtainable one to boot, because one cannot even define entirely what it is about, or how one would go about achieving it to completeness.

Still, it is the word that has always meant the most to me.
Tied in with that, the place that means the most to me is the sea and the seaside, because it embodies and defines and symbolizes my romantic ideal of freedom to perfection.

8) Would you eat spaghetti with a spoon and fork, or a knife and fork?

I'd really prefer to use just the fork, but if I had to choose I guess I'd take the spoon.
And then leave it lying next to the plate untouched the entire meal.

9) Can I have a kitten?

Only if you don't dress it up.

10) Do you prefer hand-written letters, or emails?

Both, for different reasons and different occasions.

PS: I have just decided it would definitely be "Bring Me the Diso King" - I just cannot live without that song.

You promised me the ending would be clear
You'd let me know when the time was now
Don't let me know when you're opening the door
Stab me in the dark, let me disappear

Memories that flutter like bats out of hell
Stab you from the city spires
Life wasn't worth the balance
Or the crumpled paper it was written on

Dead or alive.... Bring me the Disco King.

Waiting for Summer

I wish it would just hurry the fuck up.

Which is funny, since I'm in no hurry to be getting all these imperfect body parts out in the open, they look bad enough in a covered state lately, as it is.

Still, I want the heat on my skin and an excuse to wear sunglasses without making a pretentious fashion statement about the blinding darkness of human society.

Granted, the sun part is already starting to come around, but it's bone-chillingly cold nonetheless.
Which is great for a crisp run in the pre-morning air, but starts grating on my nerves by noon at the latest.

There always seem to be so much more open doors and branching roads during summertime, so much more suspense and possibilities.

Well, I guess it's no surprise that warm-blooded animals would associate climbing temperatures with opportunity.

To turn up the heat in the spirit of skinny love, I'm leaving you with a few more sexy-skinny images of Evan Rachel Wood, whom I like despite never quite getting over the fact that Manson has taken a lover of my exact same age who isn't me.

Midlife crisis is a powerful thing, as "Eat Me, Drink Me" can attest to.
I attended a Manson concert not too long ago, where in good old tradition he set afire a bible while performing one of his songs.
"My god", I said to the person accompanying me, "Marilyn Manson burning bibles on stage, I'm feeling young again!" "So's he, probably", he replied.

In any case, on the subject of Wood?
That incredibly Hammy performance she puts in as True Blood's Sophie Ann LeClerc is something one just has to love.

Goals

To update; I did finally manage to calm down last night, although it took forever.
Blogging proved to be quite cathartic though, and major thanks to Ancora and Athanasy for your helpful and supportive comments, love you guys to bits! <3

Despite no sleep and feeling utterly shitty, I also passed an oral exam today - but it was rather gruesomely embarrassing, I only just made it by a narrow margin.
Did I feel relieved when it was done with, anyway?

Let me put it like this - say you spend several months being brutally tortured in a dungeon by some absolutely merciless abomination straight from the depths of hell; you might rightfully abound in joy when you are finally freed and the entire ordeal is over.
Much more likely though, you will be too scarred and traumatised by the experience to feel any relief at all - and that was what that exam felt like.

(obligatory PC addendum: I am not a complete moron, and I do realize no actual real-life torture experience compares to something as trite and mundane as an exam. I'm doing this for comedic hyperbole, obviously - and because, in my crazy pathetic mind, it really felt THAT bad to get another chance to show myself just how much of a worthless worthless loser I really am.)

Anyway, I digress, so on the topic of goals:

I want to be carful about setting them weight-wise - disappointment is already a major theme in my wretched little brain, and I don't want to set myself up for more of the same.

Still, there is this:
In less than a month, less than three weeks really, I will be attending a concert of a band I adore.
I happen to have reasonable cause to suspect, nay fear, that this concert might also be attended by The Coward, the Boy That I Still Long For Despite Knowing That I REALLY Shouldn't.

And his new girlfriend, of course.

From what I hear through mutual friends, they never do anything separately anymore.
So if either of them is there, the other will be.

And then I will be meeting a personalized nightmare of loss and rejection in double force, instead of enjoying a relaxing evening where I shut everything out of my brain except for the music.

The thing is (and I use that phrase way too often lately), that I know weight is pretty much the one issue where I can get to her.

I happen to know that she is equally messed up as I am in the food department, that weight and clothes sizes hold the same morbid appeal for her, and that she defines herself, much as I do, through the space that is or isn't visible between her thighs.

So of course, the petty bitter side of me dictates that I have to be super skinny, that I have to fuel her insecurities by nourishing my own, that I have to beat her at being thin at least if I can't beat her at winning his love.

If I have to run the risk of running into her, into them, then I would love for her to be shocked and envious at the sight of me.
I know that I am grasping for straws and that my attempt at physical superiority to her is petty; but that's what you would expect from a bitter person, it's the best I can do.

I am unsure what my goal for those three weeks should be though, how much I would want to have lost by then.
I'm out of touch with what is even realistic, what I am actually capable of achieving.

So, I think I'm going to give it a few more days, see how I'm doing and where I'm at, then try to decide what goal would be achievable and sufficient for my petty revenge.

Operation Skinny For The Wrong Reasons starts tomorrow... (There's always another reason to starve, isn't there? And right now I'm damn glad about it, I need incentive to stay on track; I could pretty much use incentive for a lot of things these days.)

Positive Thought of the Day:

I absolutely adore the girl I'm stealing for today's picture, her outlandish glamorousness, her almost inhumane body posture in that glittering suit - very David Bowie Ziggy-Stardust-era; also reminds me of the foam-spilling poise of his alien character in The Man Who Fell to Earth in a way.

(Bowie himself never seems to eat, does he? Certainly didn't during the seventies, when he lived on "red peppers, milk and cocaine"...
Alas, that doesn't really seem like a recommendable long-term plan either.... still, I wouldn't mind to posses the otherworldly razor-blade-ish grace of the Thin White Duke.)

Cal count standing at 550 and I'm actually going to bed now, because I feel like a walking trainwreck - so that's quite agreeable!