this post happened last night and now i am embarrassed but you can keep it anyway, internet.

It's late, I'm nauseous hungry again, but I'm keeping the momentum going on this 1 post a day thing (except for on Saturdays because I'm a buffet Jew and this 'rest on Saturdays' dish is the only thing I'm taking. And Chanukah presents.)

I told my mom something tonight I kind of wish I hadn't. I wasn't intending to write about this, wasn't one bit, but via tweeter I received the advice to bleed, bleed all over my blog. And since I already bled this morning into 5 plastic vials (gotta test that blood), I'll keep that momentum going too. I mean, could have just changed the background to blood platelets. That would have been easier. But who does that?

I was at a shiva (a Jewish mourning ritual) for a family friend who recently died in a pretty tragic way. They took their own life. From what I understand, they were experiencing depression for a long time before this, something I can relate to. So it saddened me to witness the effect that this had on their family, but I also felt a possible understanding for why they'd do it. Or so I thought (everybody's situation is complex, complex, complex, like depression itself I think). In my own experience, I've been pretty low in the past. Suicidally low, maybe. I don't like to talk about this, to make it more real than it feels now, which is not very real. But I've reached such points of disconnection and hopelessness (and I don't even like hope) that I seriously considered 'leaving this world', because I didn't want to be here. And though I would never have actually done it, I have a greater understanding of why somebody might.

I told my mom about it in the car ride home, in the world melting rain and the quiet car (which had earlier been pumping out talented K$sha's latest, 'Die Young').

She cried, then I cried, then I laughed, because crying is weird. Yeah, sometimes I'm a man. (And sometimes I make genderalizations.) (And awful puns). (And brackets to make up for all the brackets I can't make in real life conversations. Which would be neato). Anyway, I felt bad telling her; I was saying it to express how I might be able to understand what the person was going through, because many people can't relate. But of course, many other people can. They probably just aren't telling you. (I didn't, I told nobody in order to protect myself from another court order or some shit).

So call your brain, tell it how you feel. 

I felt like I brought more weight into the world by saying it, but at the same time, I felt a little more connected, as much as that scares me. To me, depression was a lot about feeling totally separate from the world around me, especially the people. So I guess, to tie things loosely together, you can say that tonight, though it was sad, deeply sad and a lot about death, brought me a little closer to being alive.

In other news, today I got new heel boots and a dress and am going out with friends tommorow night and need water right now and why am I telling you this. I guess, to tie things more tightly together, (like the laces on my new heel boots), you can say that things get better. I have a strong belief that death is not real, that life continues eternal, and it helps me deal more easily with it (death). I won't get into whether it's a rational belief, because it's only about 5% rational, and 95% faith. And why am I even telling you this also. Regardless of death, life gets better if you keep at it. (Trying real hard not to make this into chicken soup, because your soul couldn't digest it). Even though I had no idea how to feel better, I kept going, seeking new information, speaking with the universe (more on that later?), and slowly and sometimes quite rapidly, got better. Better as in, more coherent thoughts. Clearer sense of direction. The desire to be creative and enjoy other people's company and some 'show don't tell' example that I'm not bothering with now because I'm tired.

So yeah, sometimes depression ends tragically, but as we raise awareness about it, what it is and what it does, I think it will happen a little less, a little more. I'm happy to be moving very unsteadily and confusingly towards a lighter place in my life, and in a way that places no scary sense of responsibility on me, I'm now tempted to make an it gets better video for those low spells that plague the best of us.

Ok, thanks for bearing through. I am now getting water and going to bed. Good night, and don't let the bed bugs bite. Really, don't. You might imagine bed bugs as flea-sized, but they can actually be HUGE (when filled with blood...). Ok, just thought you'd love to know.

3 Reasons Why Fuck Beauty Standards

Many women report dysfunctional
relationships with their scales

They're dumb and we know it. Kind of like most candy. They're vacuously sweet, yet we consume them like it’s perpetually Halloween. Standards of beauty. Most of us are experts in today’s standards for human aesthetics, just by living in this world. It is reasonable to set basic standards for ourselves and each-other; cleanliness, etc. but it becomes unreasonable when we judge ourselves and one another on a scale of 1- supermodel. However, despite idealistic mumblings about ‘acceptance for all body types’ and ‘it’s inner beauty that counts’, many of us are still affected by expectations for the outer image. This article offers a slightly fresh take on the whole matter. There are many reasons why fuck beauty standards, but I’ve selected my favorite three of the moment. Consider the following:

Ugliness is kind of underrated. Not ugliness, as in, a neglected appearance. Ugliness, as in, unconventional: supposedly flawed. When I first thought this, I felt a small surge of excitement that was like, hell yeah, being ugly. The next morning I spent way too much time wishing my hair was longer and my skin was clear. It ain't simple. There are certain images, jammed into the deepest places of my mind, that define the way I perceive human beauty. I don't know their ultimate cause. Could be arbitrary social conditioning, could be an actual genetic impulse. Possibly a bit of both, or something more complex. The thing is, no matter where my ingrained concept of beautiful comes from, it's my choice to adhere to it. And sometimes, it feels good not to. Sure, being conventionally physically attractive is an asset in this world, and sometimes it's also pleasurable to fit the mold, to even be vain, to indulge in that way. But forcing oneself to constantly conform to an image or ideal is draining. There is freedom in allowing what’s more natural to you to come through. It's not easy to accept one's ugliness, but it is liberating, and something I can occasionally manage. Again, note that by saying, ‘it’s okay to be ugly’, I am not saying ‘neglect your body’. Caring for the one thing you’re stuck with for life is probably a wise move. I think it's time we start applying the more adventurous and diverse standards we apply to pretty much every other thing, to ourselves. 

Because who wants to look at one single kind of painting forever? Or eat the same meal for dinner for 30 years? The truth is, the appearance standards we’ve been taught/born with are boring as hell. Yup. Hell is evil because it's boring, and so is conventional beauty. Or can be, if it’s all one likes. I won’t deny that I tolerated most of Sucker Punch just to gaze at Emily Browning. However, I would probably start to feel a bit nauseous in a sea of perfectly symmetrical faces and mannequin-like bodies. If you’re going to define beauty in the spirit of Miss Universe, then sure, true physical beauty is rare. However, to define it that way is to limit yourself to a very narrow and pre-packaged experience of life. An alternative is to discover your own taste, and follow that. Beauty is not abut perfection. A so-called flaw can sometimes make a face, and bodies more variable than potatoes from Peru(1) create a neat diversity. So go dye your hair bright yellow and get javascript tattooed on your wrists, if it feels right. We need to explore our own styles, and define them based on preferences we've chosen ourselves, instead of ones that we've absorbed more unconsciously.

Now, many say that real beauty is found within, and I wouldn’t argue. In fact, call me a biology geek, but I’d go farther, to say beauty is literally found within. Probably due to our lack of imagination (and/or imaging devices), it’s something we don’t appreciate or think of often enough. But the human organism is a freaking wonder circus, and its very existence is a fantastic reason to ditch beauty standards. Trillions of cells, hundreds with unique functions, somehow manage to work together to create what we call Homo Sapien. It sounds flat on paper, but in truth we are each the owner of the coolest technology on the planet. There’s a video circulating the net (your first thought is incorrect) created at Harvard University called ‘The Inner Life of a Cell’(2). The video depicts the intelligence and precision with which the cells in our bodies operate at each moment. Walking (yes, they literally walk) transport proteins, massive self-assembling chains, a sea of bubbling phospholipids... It is moments like these when I wish the Ms Frizzle on my Twitter account was officially verified.

There are probably lots of other reasons why we should transcend the boxes we put ourselves into, possibly better reasons, but these are the best I've got right now. So let’s go with what’s been said. Allowing ourselves to ‘be ugly’ can show us to ourselves in a new way, possibly even a beautiful way. Acceptance is ironic like that, once you stop trying to change something and allow it to just exist, hah, it changes. (This often goes for weight loss). Exploring appearance beyond media dictated fashion or convention is another way to say F it to some myths that are held very deep and sacred in our culture’s narrative. And finally, remembering how amazing the body is, is always a great way to stay aware of how beautiful we really are, and how dumb beauty standards really are. So let's make weird faces at strangers, buy sewing machines, look at microscopic images of blood cells, and f*ck beauty standards. Because can do way, way better.

___________________
1. Some pictures from National Geographic

2. I will update this sentence when I come up with a way to better express the awe this induces in me. 

venus scales for instant weight loss, and, the impossible possibility of flight

It's one of those mornings; them mornings when you wake up and want to jump up and down because just maybe you'll fly.

Last night I had a dream within a dream that I was tumbling through the sky with an umbrella. Then I awoke into another dream, in which I was flying through sheer will, and trying to convince people that it's possible. "Guys, seriously, we can fly". "She's just doing it for attention", was the response I got when I jumped off the back of a streeboat and floated alongside the telephone wires and higher. I did convince one fat older professor to join me. He morphed into a pair of jean-clad legs with no upper body before taking to the skies with me. The thing about these dreams is that they feel so real that upon waking, I entertain the slight chance that maybe, just maybe flying is possible. But one little half leap onto my bedroom floor this morning told me different.

In my previous post, I mentioned posts about sleeping, or 1960's table etiquette, but this is might be more interesting. Flying. Though I did go through a fair amount of belief that it's actually possible to defy gravity in *this* reality, and fly, I have dosed up on some healthy skepticism. Thankfully, my brother was kind enough to cancel the 10K bet we had going on around 5 years ago that was basically, 'within ten years, Erica will be able to fly, or at least float'. I was sure I could make it happen. Then, I got realistic. Because it's going to take at least 30 years.

The truth is, humans can already fly. We've got paragliding. We've got airplanes. Hell, we've got spaceships. By understanding the way that the physical universe operates, we've managed to work harmoniously with the laws we perceive, can do some pretty neat stuff. I recently saw a video of a man who gave himself wings (not real wings... though that may have been done too), and meticulously planned out the fall he would experience when leaping off a cliff. Back and forth he shot through the sky, as onlookers onlooked (perhaps even suspiciously), until he finally landed in the water. It was beautiful, but it's not the kind of flight I have in mind when I think of flying. When I think fly, I am not thinking, wings. I am thinking, fuck gravity. How real is it really? I know, you're now looking at me like I am the wooiest woo on woostreet. And maybe I am. However, you've got to wonder, that maybe, just because something has happened over and over and over, seemingly forever, doesn't necessarily mean it's going to happen again tommorow. Or maybe it will, it probably will, but the thing is, we don't know.

Now, I am becoming a lot more skeptical than I was for the past 6 years or so, but I will present to you my ill-concieved, idealistic and preposterous "theory"that was born about last year, when I was less skeptical and more prone to believing in many magical ideas without restraint (lesson: use your intuition in balance with reason). The "theory", which when the more I think about it, is not a theory whatsoever, is also... making me cringe, a lot. The idea was that somehow, we can alter our 'field' and the molecules that make us up, so that they can interact differently with the... ok. Obviously, if I'm going to say any more on this topic, I'm gonna need to do a hell of a lot more research. Let's stick to the people who have.

Fun fact: if you weigh 117 pounds on Earth, you weigh 106.1 pounds on Venus or a Venus scale.

Updote

Hello! I am back. After an indescribably doubtful hiatus of escapades (this kind of language makes you think I don't get out much, which I don't... yet), I have returned to my intention to WRITE. I don't mean WRITE as in write. I mean WRITE as in, Wear Real Intuitive Thoughts Endoscopically. No, I do mean writing. That didn't work out, that acronym. I'll have to edit it (did not edit it). It does remind me of Acrophobia though, which was a pretty sweet game. Ah, childhood. Anyway, yeah, this post is kind of self-indulgant, a trait I don't love much and would like to transform into 'appropriate' and 'offers valuable information'. But you have to start somewhere, right? And I'm starting here.

Ideally I wasn't going to post this post, I was going to jump right into the game again, whatever the game is, and write about sleeping, or Emily Post's 1960's perspective on table manners. However, I figure I need a bit of a transition for those who do read this (hi Mom) because the last time I posted up in here, I was focused on a very different pursuit, but I am done with that for now, and am again focused on writing (as was expressed in the very first post on this blog). Logistics, I know you don't care, I know. But for the sake of continuity, and to explain why certain posts were deleted, there you go.

So basically, the plan of The Holoscope is this. It is a variety website (hoping to transition to my .com address shortly) on which I will post content I deem valuable, whether it is informative, entertaining, or both. Very ideally both. I will post myself. I will guest host other people, because other people can be awesome. There will be pictures. There will be videos. There will be daily updates. Even if the update is the smallest thing, you can rely (unless otherwise noted) on at least one daily dose of The Holoscope.

That is the plan, and I'm not promising anything yet, because I need to do more research and ensure this is the best way to go about becoming a working writer. There are other things I'm dabbling in at the moment as well, and they may be a better way to go. Still, I am going to update this blog come website as much as possible.

Anyway, I am dripping with tiredness today (if that's possible, which I wouldn't know, being so tired), but because I'm not sure what direction the writing will be headed, I've got a question for you. I want to know... what would you like me to write about on The Holoscope? Or what kind of content would you like to see? As the name suggests, it's the scope of everything, so nothing is off-limits. My main interests are health, technology (the more sci-fi the better), space travel, fiction, experimenting with eating, and... yeah. Lots more, so let me know what yours are. I would love for this to be very interactive, and this is probably your best opportunity to take advantage of me (in this specific way only) and request, seriously, whatever the hell you want. If I know I'm pleasing at least 1 reader, it's better than nothing. That is how desperate I am. Now you know.

(+1 point for catching the Reddit reference)