Diary of a Picky Eater: Week 2

This week, unfortunately, there was not much I tried in terms of "new food." Finding foods that (A) I can eat with my colitis and (B) are healthy for me is a struggle. I wish I had the time to endlessly cook these things at home (and the skill, now that I think about it), but my days are filled with work and writing. The only time I have to cook is at night, with my mom.

On the plus side, I have been adding more fruit into my lunchbox, and hummus! A year or so ago, if I'd eaten hummus, I would have felt as though I was going to vomit. It was something about the texture. Then, one summer afternoon, my grandmother took out hummus and bagel chips for a snack, and I tried it. What happened, taste buds? I can't get enough now! Of course, since I can't have raw vegetables, I eat hummus with--you guessed it--carbs, but it's a start to the healthier lifestyle I need.

At my house, once I got back from college, I started to realize we ate, for the most part, the same things every week for dinner. We'd have pasta, steak, hamburger, take out, and cycle through them the next week, occasionally adding in something different. And most of it is beef--for my colitis, meat like chicken or fish is a better option. It is now my goal to add more of this into our dinner.

Let me tell you, it's a struggle.

The good news is, with winter approaching, we've started to make Sunday nights our soup night, which means endless possibilities for yummy cooked vegetables, meat, and nutrients that will help me feel better. Last week, I helped make a chicken noodle soup that turned out delicious!


This week...

Manhattan Clam Chowder. Like hummus, this is something else I thought I hated until I ate it a couple of summers ago at a local eatery. Taste buds, you shock me again! Except this time it was homemade, so we added whatever our hearts so desired, and it came out amazing. We made Manhattan style because I cannot have dairy, eliminating what I imagine is a delicious New England Style Clam Chowder from the menu.

Raspberries. I tried this at the request of my brother, who was munching them down one by one. It tasted good, except rather sour. I don't mind the flavor. But it was the texture that got me; it was all squishy and blech! I'm the type of person who enjoys fruits like grapes crisp and crunchy, not to mention cold. I think I'll try this in a smoothie soon.

Letting Go of a First Love

From underneath my bookshelf, I pull a Harry Potter Deluxe Journal, complete with built-in light and an illustration of Harry on the cover, riding his broom. I remember receiving it, probably from a Scholastic book fair, eager to begin writing in it. This is my first journal, from 2004, when I was in fifth grade. Settling down on my bed, I start to read--noting that most of it has to do with Harry Potter, making my life more Harry Potter, and becoming increasingly more obsessed with Harry Potter as the year progresses in my journal. Well, nothing's changed there. 

Turning one page, I read to the end and stop. Up until this point, I make references to story ideas and what short story I am working on at the moment. Here is what I found, the reference to the next story I was working on, just a blip, but it's there, nonetheless.

Currently, this is the revision I am working on,
what once was just the "Silver Necklace Legend."

Laying the journal down on the bed, I cover my mouth with my hands in amazement. Eleven Years. Of course, it hasn't been a constant eleven years. Between then and now, not only have I worked on other stories, but I also have worked on school papers and taken breaks from writing. Yet throughout those years, this story has transformed.

Basically me with this story. 

And this revision I started a little more than a week ago will be my last. Once I write it and complete editing afterwards, that's it.

I believe I'm having a hard time letting go of this story since it is so ingrained in my mind. Some of the characters are even completely original; meaning, their character arc may have matured, but their name, place within the story, and entrance into the story have not. Writing for them is like writing about myself; they are close friends. How can I let go of something that intimate?

The answer? Because I have to.

In middle school, I moved "The Silver Necklace," which since then has changed titles many times, onto my laptop, a Dell 2000 whose only purpose was to serve my writing needs. I completed 80 pages of pure, inventive creativity, or twelve chapters. And then, one afternoon after reorganizing folders in My Documents, I'd opened my story only to discover I'd deleted it by accident. I had clicked on the shortcut to the document, and deleted the actual document--emptying the recycle bin in a burst of organizational inspiration.

All of it was gone. I was in eighth grade.

I wrote about this event in my journal at the time:

Although at the start it was still a tragedy, it became a blessing as I worked to rebuild. In a notebook, I timelined everything I could remember (I still have it filed away), and came up with an ending to the first installment of "The Silver Necklace." I know that because I deleted that 80 page copy, I was granted the gift of looking at it critically.

Drafts later, a short break where I thought I was "finished with that story for good," and here I am, at the end of it all. Can it already be the end? I'm not sure I'm ready to say goodbye to all of my favorite characters, one of which will probably end up being THE ultimate favorite, simply because he is the oldest character in my story. It'll be a challenge, but I know this is a challenge I have to complete. Finishing a story, adding "The End," and starting fresh--without ideas for "The Silver Necklace" turning over in my mind in the background--is the first step. The second is letting go.

I've still got plenty of time before the final goodbye. For now, I will enjoy every minute I'm in my character's heads.

Diary of a Picky Eater: Week 1

The news my colitis (the simplest definition? an irritation of the colon) was getting worse did not sit well with me. What made matters worse was that my doctor was prescribing me heavy-duty meds to make everything better.

That is, if one thing didn’t work, he would try the other.

This means I only have a limited time until the inevitable.

And it got me thinking. Since the symptoms of colitis (most common one is diarrhea, for me) can be prevented through my food choices, what foods am I eating that are actually doing me harm? Most of my diet is compromised of red meat and carbs. Typically, I avoid fruits and veggies of all kinds since *shudder* they taste icky.

Except, not only has it been a long time since I tried those foods, but the foods I eat a lot of typically aren’t good for those with colitis. In fact, in some people, red meat is known to cause flare ups of symptoms.

I knew it was time to try more foods and stick to them. This is my “Diary of a Picky Eater,” and I will be blogging what foods I try as I go through the weeks since I do not enjoy any foods of the kind that are good for me to eat.

Oh boy, this is going to be…fun?

1. That Awful Stuffed Mushroom. It was an endeavor I should have never attempted, but when my mom offered me a mushroom stuffed with crab, I swallowed hard and held it aloft in the air, crying, “For my colon!” and bit into the gooey, horrible, bad tasting mess. (I spit it out. I won’t be trying mushrooms again soon.)
2. Chicken Pot Pie Failure. Because Chicken Pot Pies usually feature unslightly foods like carrots or—cover your eyes, kids!—peas, I was not too eager to try this particular pie. Whenever we eat it at home, I usually make something for myself so I can avoid any peas. Yet this time, I was ready. Mom sliced the pie open…and….it was nothing but chicken and some sort of cream. There was one carrot in the entire pie. We’d gotten it from the frozen section. Next week I’m requesting we make our own. 
3. Chicken Noodle Soup with Spinach, Carrots, Celery, and Onions. First of all, YUM! I love chicken noodle soup normally, but the addition of the celery, spinach, and onions was a big deal. I made sure to chop the spinach up into smaller pieces, so it wouldn’t be floating around like little green monsters. (“You just throw it in,” my mom said as I did this, but I ignored her.) And, success! Instead of leaving a pile of food left over in my bowl, I cleaned off the entire thing. Spinach and all!
4. Butternut Squash Ravioli with Tomato Sauce. Deep breath! On this day, I had no meat whatsoever for supper. It was a good thing my mom was sitting down because she witnessed me eat an entire plate of butternut squash ravioli! The tomato sauce covered up what might have been some awful tastes (although I tasted nothing but deliciousness), and my mom later bragged to relatives about how I ate this dish. I’m hoping to try it with different sauce next time.
5. Almond Milk, Strawberry/Banana Smoothie. Not much to say here, except why didn’t I try this sooner?!

A brave week, and all better for both my entire body and my colitis. At this point, though, I’m just hoping I can keep it up! 

Back to the Blog--and a Little Wiser, Too

The roller coaster hit me hard, and somehow I’ve managed to emerge on the other side happy, full of adrenaline, and somewhat whole.

I previously wrote how my job was making me unhappy. Not wanting to write is my worst nightmare. This job—sitting at a computer for hours typing in the same information—did just that. Even as I continued working there, I knew I had to leave. Soon. 

What else happened? In mid-August, my colitis flared up for the first time since I’d been diagnosed in July 2012. I can say now that it was a learning experience because I know what to expect next time it hits. The most difficult thing was that I could justify myself going to work. It wasn’t like my boss was in the dark about the subject, her daughter has colitis, but it’s who I am. When I was little and too sick to go to school, my mom would have to hold me back from running for the bus. I can honestly say, in that regard, nothing has changed.

So, when my job at the company ended, it was a huge relief. What I needed was rest and lots of it on my time away from working. I napped every day with Raven, my four month old kitten, and by the end of the week interviewed at another company, and landed the job. I would start Monday.

My new job is a breath of fresh air. It’s a small company with maybe seven people at most working there every day, compared to the large one I was at before. We talk, we laugh, we get work done, we say bless you when someone sneezes (which no one did at my other job, weird), we get to know each other. Most importantly, I do different things. I answer and make phone calls, I work with filing, I organize, and…GAH! Doing multiple things—scratch that, LEARNING multiple things at a job, about a local company, is a privilege. All of this I can take with me onto the next job, and the next, and the next.

Now, I’ve been wondering why my perceptions of jobs has changed. This job by no means is my dream job, but so far I’m not dreading going there (it’s only been a week, though, so we’ll have to see when that changes!). I think I’ve discovered that in order to find time to write, I have to force time to write, even if it’s in small patches. I’ve discovered that writing is my priority, but while I’m writing I can work, too, and gain more skills along the way.

Writing is what makes me happy, and adding it to my day is by no means a burden. I’m sure you can understand. It feels good to finally have answers to some questions bouncing around in my mind. But I’m still only 22, so there’s bound to be more—and soon!  

After School

 It is often portrayed in movies, or even through the words of adults (teachers, parents, friends, family) that being in high school and college will help better define you as a person, or who you’re going to be. Now this may be true for some, and I definitely discovered some things about myself during those 8 years, but this is most certainly not the truth for everyone.

High school was not too bad for me. I found my group of friends (all obsessed with Harry Potter, reading, drama club, or all of the above). I danced 15-20 hours a week, as well as joined the school plays to dance. I received good grades. My plan, all through those years as well as through middle school, was to go to college for creative writing. Honestly, there is nothing else that I want to do. If I am to go devote my time to something, I don’t want to be doing it just to make money or because it’s a popular profession. I wrote as often as I could, on short stories (that were failures) and a portal fantasy story, the one that I am revising today.

That’s who I was: dancer, friend, writer, good student.

In college, that changed. I was still a good student, and I did join ballroom dance, but after my sophomore year, I quit. I got a job in the Writing Center at school, peer tutoring. I devoted most of my time to my grades and my writing, when I was out of school. Most of the time, I pondered this: who was I now? What was my identity? Writer, reader, good student, girlfriend, and someone who happens to have colitis. Different, yes, but school was still there to ground me.

I just graduated college in December, and walked in May. School has been thrown out of the mix, tossed into the past until I decide (IF I decide) to go back to school and get my Masters. Once again, people are pressuring me to go into something that would make a lot of money. I can write on the side, they say, and this is true. I would love to go back to school, but to dive back in after I just left would mean that I still would have school to ground me.

I don’t want that.

I want to figure out who I am without school. I want to roll in the possibilities, to find new hobbies, to meet new people—except oh wait I’m an introvert. I have colitis, I write, I read, and I am a feminist. What else? What am I missing? What do I believe in? Discovering who I am without school—as well as pushing the fear that I will only be good at school and nothing else—is difficult. It wouldn't be worthwhile, though, if it wasn't. 

Quite Simply, I Fell in Love

On top, the VHS I got when I was 9.
All the way to the right, the Sorcerer's Stone book
that I destroyed in my love. 

The sight of the move trailer on the television sparked my interest. Wide-eyed, I told my mom later that movie, and, of course, she repeated her mantra: “You have to read the book, first.” It was okay, though, because she had a copy of it in the classroom she worked in at the local school.

that I wanted to see

She handed me the copy, and I ran my fingers over the strange, golden letters of the title. I looked at the cover that showed a boy flying: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. I was eight years old, and by the time I was done reading it, the book cover was so destroyed with the pleasure of reading that my mom told me I could keep it and she’d buy another one for the classroom.

There are many stories in my life connected with the Harry Potter series. At my ninth birthday party, for example, as I blew out the candles I wished for the Sorcerer’s Stone VHS. Guess what was in the first present I opened from my grandparents? When I was ten, I received a magazine with the new film’s details on the inside spread. Those pages were so destroyed that I ended up tearing them from the magazine, and I still have them in a binder. I remember waiting in line for Prisoner of Azkaban that stretched across the parking lot, and some man stepped out of line at the front and shouted, “DUDE HARRY POTTER IS SOLD OUT!” Or receiving my copy of Half Blood Prince at a midnight party after taking an eerie, nighttime walk, and on the way home I took my book light out to read in the car. (“Don’t stay up all night reading!” Mom told me.)

I am so grateful for this series, and I wouldn’t know where I would be without it. It might not have begun my journey into reading and writing, but it definitely enhanced it. Not only that, but it also enhanced my life. I read the first book when I was eight years old and saw the final movie at age eighteen. Ten Years.

Pretty much.

In high school, that’s what drew us together. I met a friend in gym class over the love of Harry Potter, one girl I befriended in Spanish class over our love of writing and the series, another I met freshmen year in science—I am still friends with them today. We talked about the upcoming films, planned our Deathly Hallows Part 2 midnight showing, laughed about the Starkid musicals…

I suppose I came here to say that when I started reading that first Harry Potter book in 2001, I didn’t expect to fall in love. And I wouldn’t have dreamed that fourteen years later, I would still be just as obsessed and in love (probably a teensy bit more obsessed).

I JUST LOVE HARRY POTTER OKAY. *cuddles with books and films and tshirts and posters and ties and wands and magazine articles and…*

The Greatest Expectation

A few days ago, someone my brother and I knew, a mom of kids we went to school with, started working with him in a bakery. And she asked after me. Not after what I was doing with my career, or what I was doing with school, however. She asked if I was married or not.

My brother passed it off as silly, laughing as he closed the door to my bedroom, where I had been sitting with a whiteboard, plotting my fantasy work in progress. The marker hung in my hand. So strange to hear after this woman since I hadn’t seen her daughter since 8^th grade. So strange that her daughters are married already. So strange that she would assume I was married…and not bother asking anything else about me at all.*

Strange? The more I thought about it, not so much.

Marriage is not for everyone—women or men, but it is pushed onto women more often than men. Men can be independent without judgment, and if someone asks about them, odds are it won’t be about marriage. After all, how often are they asked who they’re wearing at the academy awards?

I hate the idea that women are viewed as having to want or having to be married. News flash! Not everyone wants the same thing, and if a woman wants to do it single then she should do so without judgment. She should be able to—but she’s not. This is the 21^st century, people. How often are we going to pretend we’re in the Middle Ages? No, she doesn’t have to be married to accomplish everything she needs to succeed in life. No, she doesn’t have to be attached to a man, either. She can do what she dreams, with or without a husband.

Even if she wants to be married, she can still fulfill her dreams. There should be nothing standing in her way. In anyone’s way.

“Did she go to school? Where? What is she doing now?” are all questions that could have been asked from this Mom who blasted to the bakery from 2007. Instead, they all fell to the ground, only to be trampled by strangers in passing.

*For the record, yes, I do want to eventually get married. But my writing, at this point in my life, is more important, as is my career.