I [heart] Davids It helps me to say these things aloud, I think.

115.5#, 23%

I had a McDonald’s Caramel Sundae today, and sushi for dinner.

Can we just talk for a moment about how bad Andromeda is? I mean, what the heck? Every time I watch a show, I feel like there was another show I missed. This avatar concept is hard to follow. The plot is so weird, and disconnected. And why is Dylan Hunt such a god, anyway? Protected by 3 avatars? Anything he can’t get right is clearly his own problem. Becka is queen bitch and throws her name around so much – makes her unattractive. I don’t even know why I watched it now. I’m so pissed that SciFi stopped showing old Andromeda reruns at the end of season 2. They clearly suck. Anyway.

114.5#, 23%

I stopped speaking to my father about three years ago, a few months before my wedding in 2002. It was over a rather minor miscommunication, but it had more to do with years of buildup than that one misstep. In the end, I decided that it was better for my mental health not to talk to someone who made me cry every time we talked. It was a decision that made me really sad, but I felt like I had to make a stand for myself. It was the most selfish decision maybe I’ve ever made, and my father never considered selfishness a good trait, so that makes it kind of worse.

I think he’s probably diagnosably mentally ill, schizophrenic or something. I read Beautiful Mind and the story of his mental illness really reminded me of my dad’s behavior. I’m sure my abandonment is not the best thing I could do for my dad, but I felt it was the best choice for me. My brother, god love him, has decided to do what’s best for dad. That, or he is terrified of living his life with the regret that he did what I have chosen to do. My brother still talks to my dad, though dad takes every opportunity to punish Jonathan whenever possible by breaking his heart again and again. My brother is one of those rare souls who’s sensitivity is way off the scale from normal. (Hmm, I guess mine could be too, but I just maintain this gruff exterior and cry on the couch instead.) Dad missed Jonathan’s wedding and has refused to see his 15 month old child, who is named after my dad. Oh well.

So, since we stopped talking, I have dreamt about dad. I used to get worried, think he died and he was communicating with me somehow. But now it happens so much and he’s still kicking, lives only a few hours away from me. I can’t believe he’s still alive. His body is a wreck. He’s 55 and has had all of his teeth replaced, eats nitroglycerine pills like they were candy, and still smokes and drinks in excess, I imagine.

Usually the dream is that I’m at my granmother’s home, and I run across him unsuspecting. It’s uncomfortable, and I wake up anxious. Sometimes (rarely) it’s a fight, where I scream at him all the things I never said but always wanted to. Regardless, it’s always disturbing. I can feel my conscious weighing heavily on me, telling me how much I am going to regret this when he is gone. But even though I feel that frequently, I can’t make logical sense out of that statement when I look at it from all sides. I mean, I know I love him. Isn’t that enough? The big question is that he must think I hate him. But I can’t tell him, he wouldn’t believe me anyway, even if I tried. Maybe deep down, in his heart of hearts, when he’s having a good day, he knows that I love him. I think that’s all I want him to know.

But last night I dreamed about him, and we talked, and it didn’t totally suck. That was weird, and unexpected. I mean, it wasn’t like old times, but I think it was actually kind of nice. I wonder what that’s all about?

Breakfast was two buckwheat pancakes with syrup, 1 scrambled egg and 1 piece of bacon.

This morning’s report: 113#, 26%. These readings vary so widely from day to day.

115#, 22%
Could it be because I was wearing my socks?

I spend a lot of time watching bad girly movies while my husband is out of town. You know the kind, romantic comedies like Miss Congeniality, Gun Shy, Kate & Leopold, Under The Tuscan Sun. I don’t know why I like watching them so much. I mean, I’m not sure I ever think “I really want to see this movie” but that’s what I grab when I’m at Blockbuster, so I guess part of me wants to see it. I think one reason is that I can’t handle tragedy or suspense, it just wrecks me hardcore. I loved Crouching Tiger, but I could never watch it a second time because I knew how tragic and depressing it would be. With these girly movies I have a guaranteed ending that I can rely on. Here’s the thing about these movies (and most movies in general) – I weep like a baby. I must like the safeness of that weeping at home alone, on the couch with no one to see me or make fun of me (though I wept when I went with the girls to see Under the Tuscan Sun and I was embarrased).

A movie that I really loved and that made me just cry throughout it (both times I watched it) was Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. My brother thought the movie contrived and cliched. For me, instead, it made me remember all the hopes and dreams and wonderful memory moments you have when you first meet someone and first start dating them. Those are magical times and you should never lose them. I like to reminisce and remember the way I used to think of my husband when we first started dating – so sweet. It’s funny because I think the images we had of each other were not quite what we turned out to be. I loved his strength and confidence, that’s what I saw in him, and it turned out that when we first met he was going through some stuff and didn’t feel as confident as I imagined he was. Watching that movie made me remember all those feelings of new love and how much I treasure them, and seeing them torn away in the film made me really sad.

Why is it I weep like a baby so much? I cry at those sensitive American Express commercials. I cry when I hear acoustic guitar, especially if it’s one of those solo guys playing in a restaurant who plays Space Oddity. I cry when I hear those little human interest stories on NPR. What is up with that?

Oh, well, I’m not crying now. It’s 5 and time to go home!

115.5 #, 23% body fat

Dinner was very yummy grilled chicken burritos with homemade salsa, fresh avocado, and grilled yellow bell pepper and green onion on whole wheat tortillas. Had two and have enough for a good lunch tomorrow. Tasty.

Here is a picture of our cat-in-law, Floyd. I think she was named when my husband was in college or high school, after Pink Floyd. She’s the tiniest cat ever, only weighs a few pounds. Here she is finding her natural camouflaged habitat.