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Vacant Twighlight

WorldCon Write-Up

It goes without saying that I’m just sort of sitting here trying to process everything that happened in the last few days. This is going to be a long post, so apologies in advance.

One of the more interesting things about Worldcon is that I wear a bunch of hats while I’m there.

Hat Number One: As Director of Operations for SFWA, I’m working with our events team and suite volunteers to make sure all services are up and running. I would be lost this year without the incredible help from Terra LeMay, Steven H Silver, Cat Greenberg and the many awesome volunteers who took time out of their convention schedules to lend a hand. I also participate in discussions during the SFWA Board and Business meetings and I am so thankful to be working with an amazing group of people filling those roles. SFWA is in very good hands right now and I’m so glad I get to be a part of that. For any members who are reading this and did not get to attend, when we post the minutes of those meetings, I would encourage you to seek them out. We’re doing great things.

Hat Number Two:  I’m the Podcast Director, Narrator, and Non-fiction Editor for Clarkesworld Magazine. This weekend, I got to partake in panels that not only spoke to the audio side of what I do, but the awesomeness that is this magazine under the stewardship of Neil Clarke, Sean Wallace and the many people who’ve been a part of it. Clarkesworld Magazine has not only been around for ten years, but I’ve gotten to see it evolve into the badass Pokemon it is for a good majority of it.

Hat Number Three: As you can see on the masthead of the website, it does list writer in there. My writing sort of fell off when SFWA and Clarkesworld took over, but thanks to the gentle prodding and encouragement by a few people, mainly Terra LeMay, I am happy to say that I’m writing again. A goal of mine was to finish a story so I’d have something to offer at my reading at WorldCon, and I’m happy to say that I did. More on that later.

Hat Number Four: Fan. When I was about five, my father under the great disapproval from my mother (who to this day, still mentions it), showed me Alien. From then, every B movie to the classic Heinlein and Asimov stories and novels to the amazing things this community is producing now, WorldCon is still squee central. My work with both SFWA and CW allows me to still have some composure when I come upon people and things I truly love and admire, but you better believe that under the skin, I’m jumping up and down and screaming with joy. So to all those creators and individuals who make those amazing things happen, thank you.

In conversation, I often inquire about convention highlights and it seemed that in general, people had really wonderful things to say. While there were many, the few that have simultaneously energized and to a degree validated what I’m doing in the community were:

  1. Kaffeeklatch – I was intensely worried that I would be sitting at a table by myself. That was very much not the case. I was so happy to be joined by people, that I started the session asking each person around the table who they were and what they did to make the event even more intimate. If you’re taking the time to get to know me, I wanted to know about you. We had lovely discussions and all the while, I was sitting there practically jumping out of my seat because I could not believe it was happening. I work from home in all things, so while I do get feedback in the form of social media and email, actually experiencing interaction in a live environment is pretty surreal. When someone comes up and says they love my narration or the work I do, it takes me a minute to process that they are actually talking to me. Maybe it goes back to the impostor syndrome some of us experience, but regardless, I will always be thankful to each person who took time out of their schedules to come see me.
  2. Reading – As I mentioned above, Terra LeMay has been instrumental with her encouragement and guidance in getting my writing career back on track. While I wasn’t expecting a reading at WorldCon, the programming staff offered me one anyway. As soon as I found out, I wanted to share that space with Terra because I wouldn’t even have anything to read if she hadn’t suggested the accountability in the first place. Overwhelmed again that people showed up, I started reading from the new short story.  Unfortunately, emotion got the best of me and I started crying. I tried to catch it before I lost it, but I just couldn’t. I got a hug from Terra and Marguerite Kenner, and Steven H Silver got up and grabbed me some water and tissues. I took a deep breath and soldiered on. But the fact that people sat there and listened to me read, from my own work, was pretty friggen awesome.
  3. People – So many people I love. So brief a time to spend. A hug, a wave, a small conversation, old friends, new ones, drinks around a table — whatever it was, just know that I am so incredibly lucky to have met you and gotten to know you.

While in the Clarkesworld at Ten panel at this WorldCon I said, “It is an awesome time to be a writer and a reader.” I mean that. There will be people for whatever reason that will try to tell you otherwise, that your voice doesn’t matter or that the art you create isn’t worth anything. Please do not listen to them. Write. Create. Make Art. Edit. Publish.

It is important to be inclusive. It is important to validate the things you like and love. It is important not only to call out injustice, but to find and implement the solutions that fix it. It’s is important to continue to do those things despite the threatening and scary calls that come from limited worldviews where change is threatening and scary.

With all the talk of “special snowflakes,” the only other thing I will add is this — a snowflake forms when conditions are just right. Water droplet freeze onto particles of dust and form a myriad of unique shapes. That dust comes from you and I and all the things that make up this tiny blue dot. It comes from stars that once held planets of their own, long before we were ever here.

If being a special snowflake means I get to share this short time with both old friends and new, and my limited worldview expands with it, let us be a blizzard.


So to Marguerite Kenner and Alasdair Stuart, thank you for the conversation and the Flakes. I am often flabbergasted when we part, because you are both amazing. I hope to see you soon either in travel to the UK or if I can make it to WorldCon in Finland.

To Jeremy Tolbert, Beth Dawkins, Al Bogdan, Nick Mamatas, Gord Sellar, Desirina Boskovich, Christopher Kastensmidt, and newly met Molly Tanzer, thank you for a night of just “being.” I rarely get to do that at conventions lately, and I’m so grateful.

To David Steffen, thank you for coming to the Kaffeeklatsch, the reading, dinner, and for being a generally all around awesome person.

To Richard Man, who in requesting a second photograph session for his project gave the reason that the first didn’t quite capture all that I was, your work is brilliant and I can’t wait to see the finished pieces.

To Patrick Hester who has always been wonderful and kind and gives the best bear hugs, thank you for being a friend and still insisting on calling me, “the voice.”

To Cat Rambo, who not only is a kickass SFWA President, thank you for the conversation and advice. I’m very honored to call you friend.

To Naomi Kritzer for being one of my favorite writers, congratulations on the Hugo win and thank you for liking the narration. You didn’t have to mention it on the podium and you did, and I will never forget it. You are amazing and don’t ever forget that. (Also, send us more stories.)

To Kelly Robson and Alyx Dellamonica who both give the warmest hugs and the bestest of advices, I’m so incredibly grateful I got to spend some time chatting with you both before you headed home.

To Scott Andrews and Tina Connolly with whom I got to sit at the Hugo ceremony, I so enjoy your company and the evening was made all the better for getting to experience it with you.

To Todd McCaffrey for engaging conversation and drinks, thank you!

To the many fans of the Clarkeworld podcast who said hello and came up and asked for hugs, we would be nothing without your support.

To Fran Wilde, Steven Gould, Laura Mixon, John and Krissy Scalzi, Mary Robinette Kowal, Lynne and Michael Thomas, Ellen Datlow, Francesca Myman, Rich Horton, Jonathan Strahan, Lily Yu, Terrence Miltner, Robert Reed, Marko Kloos, Jason Sanford, David Klecha, Mur Lafferty, Jim Kelly, Irene Gallo, Sheila Williams, Rachel Swirsky, Charlie Jane Anders, John Chu, Bud Sparhawk, Sarah Beth Durst, David Gallaher, Jason Heller, John O’Neill, Brenda Cooper, Ken Liu, Hao Jingfang, Rosemary Claire Smith, Laurie and Jim Mann, Eugene Fischer, and others that in post-con brain I’m so sorry for forgetting, although our time was but brief, you are all rock stars and I’m all the better for having met you.

To Neil Clarke — You are my best friend and I would not be the person I am today without your continued and unfailing belief in me.  Thank you for everything this weekend.  From one impostor to another, you my friend, are fucking amazing. (Oh, and I guess I can maybe include Sean in there somewhere too. *rolls eyes*)

Now,  I hope all of you recover soon and get back to creating wonderful things.

Vacant Twighlight

The Post Nebula Conference Write-Up

*dusts off the blog* *sneezes a bit*

Is this thing on?

Well, I guess instead of living the experience that was the SFWA Nebula Conference in my head or shouting it into the void, I wanted to write a quick post about all the awesomeness that went on.

Full disclosure before we start, I am the current Director of Operations for SFWA so you could assume that I have a slightly different take on the event. I get to see this thing, nay, entity through from the inception, meeting with the talented team consisting of Steven H Silver and Terra LeMay and all the kickass volunteers who come together and make something amazing for everyone to enjoy. I would be lost without these two and I’m so incredibly lucky to work with two brilliant and dedicated friends.

Special shoutouts go to:

Mary Robinette Kowal — she took the lead on programming this year, and it was dynamite. The conference contained topics relevant, helpful, and useful to all industry professionals. Vendors joined us this year as well, letting attendees get up close and personal with representatives from companies like Amazon, ACX, Kobo, Patreon, Kickstarter, D2D, and more. We’re only looking to expand those offerings next year, so come to Pittsburgh prepared with your queries and ideas!

Amanda Bridges and Cary Williams did a fantastic job with food and beverage counts and orders, liaising with the Palmer House Hilton to make sure rooms were set up correctly and things on the production side ran smoothly.

Michael Damien Thomas deserves sincerest thanks for being in charge of both making sure the conference was accessible for all of our guests and handled the arrangements for the well-attended mass autographing session.

Dave Ifversen ran our tech and made sure the AV vendors were able to put on a great show for the awards night. I can’t express how chuffed I am that nothing went amiss this year!

Beth Dawkins arranged for Boba Fett* and our Klingon guests, along with making sure each presenter was informed and knew when to approach the stage. Special thanks to the 501st Legion’s own Chris, and to Jen Usellis.

Sondra de Jong scoured the mess of all those banquet seats and placed people where they desired. She ordered the meals with special attention to allergies, and made sure each guest was accommodated.

Did you enjoy having a place to grab a quick bite or mingle in the evening? That was all Kelley Higgins and her team of volunteers in the SFWA suite.

Terrence Miltner once again gave us beautiful programs for both the conference and the awards. We’re going to miss him dearly next year!

Randy and Sandy Kaempen took care of on-site registration, making sure you were given your appropriate documents/tickets/ribbons/pins.

I can’t forget these fantastic volunteers either — Lexi Baisden, C.T. Booth, T. Daniel Frost, Tazmania Hayward, Sara Lynn King, Riss Martin, Kali Rose, Dawn Bonanno, Jim Hosek, David Hirsch, Valya Dudycz Lupescu, Pat Sayre McCoy, Melanie, Elaine, and Robin Silver, Caetlin Williams, Shannon Williams, John Moore, Tina Jens, and Colin Coyle. If I missed anyone, it was certainly not intentional and I apologize.

SFWA Volunteers are awesome and really, the lifeblood of this organization. So thank you from the bottom of my heart.

The ceremony itself was well attended and smoothly run, with John Hodgman being endearing, funny, and pretty brilliant. I’m terribly happy he joined us and would love to have him back again and again.

Henry Lien gave us “Radio SFWA”, which is an ear worm that finds you in the most unexpected places. Tis an anthem most appropriate.

Kelly Robson and Martin Shoemaker both made me cry with their alternate universe acceptance speeches, while Eugene Fischer passionately fought for our future in his.

I was also able to take part in Richard Man’s Worldbuilder’s photography session, which in itself was pretty awesome. If you get an opportunity to either participate in or view his work, it’s stunning.

As always, I owe drinks to a lot of people. This conference keeps me insanely busy, so to Chuck Gannon, Sheila Williams, and Petra Mayer, please don’t kill me. I’m sure our paths will again cross in short order.

To friends who stole me away throughout the conference to make sure I did normal human things like eat and rest, (Steven H Silver, Terra LeMay, Alethea Kontis, and Neil Clarke) you are all so wonderful and I’m so lucky to have you all in my life.

As I mentioned, the weekend went extraordinarily well. So well in fact, that I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Universe, if you are listening, this is not an invitation.

Lastly, a huge thank you to the SFWA Board. Cat, Maggie, Bud, Susan, Matthew, Sarah, Lee, Tansy, and Jennifer — your dedication to this organization is awe-inspiring and I’m so happy to be a part of this well-oiled machine.

Oh and this happened:

Yep. I think I’m done now. Oh wait, I owe you an asterisk note.

*As Boba Fett* came up the stairs, I very happily said, “Boba!” He said. “Not Boba.” Thinking I got my costume colors wrong, I worriedly said, “Jango?” He said, “Not Jango.” Confused, I waited for the reveal. He mentioned that he was in fact cosplaying as a comic book character who cosplayed as Boba Fett. That’s some inception stuff right there, folks. 🙂

Vacant Twighlight

The Fourth Mile: Fat Girl Running Diary – Entry #2

This is gonna be challenging, but great!

1st mile mark

This ain’t so bad! I’ve got this! 

2nd mile mark

What do you mean I have to do this for 11.1 more miles in November? *gasp* 

3rd mile mark

You can’t even get through a 5K without walking some of it. You are an idiot for signing up for the half marathon. What were you thinking? *gasp*

3.25 mile mark

*DING* “You are at your half way point on your 6.5 mile run today. Great job!”

Just call Disney and defer to next year. It’s better not to humiliate yourself when the golf cart comes and picks your slow ass up in front of your friends and family. *gasp, gasp, gasp*

Furthermore, why are you even trying? This is stupid. Just walk, Kate. Just walk this portion. Your run/walk times are getting slower anyway. Just give up. 

4th mile mark

Just give up, Kate. You have no business being out here.  That’s it. Who cares if the timer says it’s time to run again, just walk it out…wait, what are you doing?

5th mile mark

You’re still doing this? WTF? 

*DING*”You’ve just finished your fastest mile, congratulations!”

6th mile mark

“I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.”

6.5 mile mark

Damn straight. *small celebratory weeping followed by gratuitous sweat picture*

BvLo9U_CUAAqFaH

You see what happens in the dialogue from mile two to mile three? The word “I” turns into “You.”  I seriously want to punch the inner drill instructor who just yells at me and tells me to quit.  I’ve been thinking about this the last few days. Why do I do this to myself? (The yelling, not the running.) It’s almost like I need to break myself to rise above another challenge.

I ran into this same voice when completing my first Warrior Dash in July. In one of the moments I’m most ashamed and most proud of, I came to this obstacle:

When the obstacle first opened in the morning, the mud and water only came up to your ankles. By the time I finished the OMGWTFBBQ last mile mountain climb around 1:00 PM, the mud was freezing and up to your waist. The ways out were brown, 75 degree incline Slip’N Slides that laughed at you when you fell back into the pit ass first.  Despite watching people jumping into the mud pit of despair and coming out with one shoe, or half a soul, I was like, LETS DO THIS, and jumped right in. The way down was hella fun. Then…

Cue sad, slow-motion apocalyptic music montage. There were tears and twenty goddamn minutes of me softly braying that I was never, ever going to emerge on the other side (or any side) of this pit of death.

WHY THE HELL HASN’T ANYONE THROWN IN A ROPE? OH DEAR GOD NO, PLEASE NOT ANOTHER WAVE OF PEOPLE JUMPING IN AT THE SAME TI…OW, YOU ARE STANDING ON MY LEG. THAT’S MY LEG. YES, MY LEG. NO, I’M JUST STANDING HERE CRYING MUD TEARS BECAUSE I WANT TO THAT’S WHY! THEY WILL FIND MY BODY IN A FEW DAYS. TELL MY KIDS I LOVE THEM.

Why, Kate? Why couldn’t you emerge from the shoe and soul sucking place of dead dreams and leaky confidence?

Because in there, the drill instructor won.

I wasn’t good enough. I was too fat. No one wants to help me. No one has the strength to pull up 285lbs.

But, Kate, you just climbed over THIS obstacle:

(And you went OVER it, not through it and ripped the skin off of both of your knees to do it when the drop became more of a slide, but NEVERMIND THAT.)

So yeah, in the pit, none of that mattered. No accomplishments. None of the work that I did to get there. I was defeated. Some part of me really worried they would end the race, everyone would go home and I’d have to spend the night in the cold water as the mud souls of fallen warriors and nasty mismatched shoes infected my skinned knees.

I was devastated.

Then, something happened.

There was one side of the pit that no one dared to climb. It was taller than the rest, and very unstable. I spied a Kate-sized foot hold and looked up. (Size 11W shoes, bitches.)

“Come on, we’ve got you.”

You can’t. You are too heavy. You’ll just pull them in. You can’t lift yourself out. Don’t keep staring at that foothold. Accept your fate.

“You sure? I’m kinda heavy.”

“We got you.”

I stuck my foot in the sloshy side of the pit, reached up my hands, jammed my knee against another small outcropping, pushed as they pulled, lifted the foot, smooshed my body against the wall and continued to push. What seemed like an eternity, but was probably only ten seconds, felt incredible as I pushed and was lifted by these Warriors uknown up and out of the unforgiving tomb.

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So yeah.

Fuck you, inner Drill Instructor. Yell all you want.  I know there will be hard days. I know I will sometimes fail, but I’ll be damned if I ever give up again.

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Vacant Twighlight

New Instrumental – Airset Alphabet

Started this while watching Allie in Karate. Think I’ll use it for Clarkesworld intros/outros in the future, or perhaps shorten it and put some lyrics to it.

Let me know what you think?

Vacant Twighlight

Fat Girl Running

As most of you know, I’ve been on a long weight loss journey. There are some days I am fantastic and the diet and exercise fall into place without any difficulty. Other days aren’t so good, and it’s a struggle not to shove every edible thing in my mouth. I can’t seem to nail down the triggers but I know the end result. I keep losing and gaining and losing the same ten pounds over and over. The internal war continues every single day and there are just times that I’m worn out and tired of fighting.

Logically, I know what I’m supposed to be doing. I do. You can’t imagine how incredibly frustrating it is when I don’t do what I’m supposed to be doing. It’s maddening. I should in theory, just be able to point my skis down the hill and GO. Just DO IT. Just GODDAMN DO IT. But some days, I just can’t.

I hate myself when I eat. I hate myself after I eat. I hate everything about myself on those days. I hate my weakness. I hate that I was at the gym earlier in the day and I’ve just erased a great workout with an over-abundance of snacks. Something breaks inside of me. I understand this and the self-doubt is slowly being replaced by forgiveness.

I’ve seen those stares I get at the gym in the kickboxing class. I’ve gotten to the point of shrugging it off. If you’re staring at my mass jiggling and wiggling behind the glass door while I’m throwing a punch and kicking my invisible opponents with these tree trunks I call legs, I feel sorry that you’re not in the room either enjoying the fruits of your own labors, or standing within range of my Amazonian combat unit.

With running (or more accurately described as “wogging”), I am slower to brush off the sideways glances and grimaces when I’m out running a trail or I finish a 5K. Those looks suggest that I have no business wogging my way from start to finish. Sadly, I’ve come to find out that there is an element of the running community that makes you feel like a lesser person for even trying.

So what do I do? I try to work even harder. Cull the weakness.

I want to get past that plateau. Couple some hilarious and elated experiences with running with my visits to the gym to work on strength, to kickboxing class, I tried to step up my game even further by joining a running club. It’ll be fun! No better way to exercise than to do it with others! It’ll be great.

I am the slowest woman out there.

Granted, I’m heavy. I’m just coming back from a muscular strain in my back, but after what happened tonight, I’m seriously just thinking of staying committed with myself by myself. I don’t want to go into too much detail, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt quite as defeated as when I left my “club” tonight and drove home.

I can deal with being the slowest, heaviest woman there. That doesn’t bother me. No one wants to run with the fat girl. So I pop in my headphones and I put one slow foot in front of the other. It doesn’t matter when I get there, as long as I get there. As long as I’m trying.

I lost the group tonight. I just couldn’t keep up and I knew going in that it would probably be the case and I was OK with being slow. I made adjustments to get myself back to the rendezvous point, I apologized, but I was still yelled at by the coach of the “pokey pokes” (Don’t worry, she assures the slowest of the slow, that’s where SHE started off too.) for going too slow. She was even more upset that coming back from her own injury, she had to go look for me when I lost the group. She then in a very crowded environment and in front of patrons berated me even further. I was also told that if I was going to go off and do my own thing, that I needed to tell her.

Thing was — I really wasn’t doing my own thing. I joined the group for a reason. Because I thought the team environment would be good for both stamina and morale. Well, my stamina might be getting better, but my morale is in the shitter. I saw the slow “what the hell do you think you’re doing here” elevator glance of the fit employee trying to hide the sneer as I walked by earlier on that night. I let it go but then to be berated both publicly and within earshot of the staff and patrons was just plain defeating. I left the place in tears.

I won’t be going back.

BUT I won’t be giving up either, but I will do this on my own terms. Following a program that is more suited to my pace. Repeating a workout because I’m not quite ready to increase mileage or uninterrupted minutes.

I will say though, any running program really needs to be cognizant of the heavier men and women who join. Simple fact of the matter is that they won’t be able to run as fast as their more slender peers all other things being equal. It takes strength and conditioning to move that much mass. It takes even more courage to get out there in the first place.

There was another larger woman who brought up the rear a few weeks ago. She was ignored. She hasn’t returned. Instead of hoping for the die-off so classes become more manageable when the “serious” runners cull the weak, perhaps running clubs would do better to quietly assess their patron’s needs and tailor a program to better fit their level of fitness, instead of sending home another discouraged person. I don’t know how ingrained this particular brand of running elitism goes, but my other caution is that if you see someone struggling, it very rarely takes more than “you’re almost there, keep going” to give that extra motivational push towards the larger goal.

As for me, like I said above, I won’t quit. I signed up for the Disney World Wine and Dine half marathon in November. My goal is not only to finish it, but to finish it well below the cut-off of 16 minutes a mile.

That’s gonna take strength, determination and courage. It’s gonna take staring down the naysayers, including myself and whispering in the mirror that no matter what anyone thinks, that I can do this.

After tonight, I may have to do it by myself, but by God, I will do it.

Vacant Twighlight

FLASH FICTION CHALLENGE: 200 WORDS AT A TIME, PART ONE

http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2013/11/22/flash-fiction-challenge-200-words-at-a-time-part-one/

The link above will take you to the flash fiction challenge that Chuck Wendig is running over at his blog. Compose 200 words, link it back and then pick another author’s story, write another 200 for their story and so forth for five weeks until a story is finished.

Here is my contribution.
——-

We are always meant to be pregnant; we daughters of Queens. We mothers of Queens. We are destined to hold a screaming infant upon our breasts, bloodied and exhausted from delivery and rooting for sustenance. We are meant to swaddle, cuddle and coo down at our future rulers. We, the perpetual regents. 

The first daughter set foot upon Winter colony, shielded against new and foreign elements in a sealed white suit and gold-plated helmet. In the older, rarer reels, she mimics a kiss through the raised, visor, touching the glass with thickly padded and protected gloved fingers. Unfastening the bulky suit, slender and still protected hands settle upon the United Agencies logo which adorns her chest and the sewn-on identification patch. Commander Eridana has landed in her new home. In the glare of sunset, the one photographer who accompanied the journey is unable to mitigate the fading light but captures the silhouette of a now noticeable pregnancy.

We will never be called “Princess”, nor inherit any throne. Should our perfect Queens fall, we simply produce another. Some have written us into our history holos as drones, reminiscent of ancient Apis mellifera.  We are the enduring members of a hive, feeding our potential matriarchs with the royal, nanotech jelly, occasionally coveting a taste but wary of the price. 

weight loss words in letterpress

From Me to Me at 281.7

About nine months ago on March 7th, I started a weight loss journey. I weighed 326lbs. My health was failing, I was far more depressed than I was happy. I could not sleep. I’d wake up with pain. I used food to cure everything, and instead it gave me more problems. Every day, I’d wake up and the war would start again. I’d tell myself that I could have a good day. That everything would be fine. That I could get through the day without going insane with food.

I finally started to do something about it. I started a meal replacement plan. I figured that the only way to fix myself was to wipe the slate clean. To retrain myself and rewrite habits. It was and continues to be the hardest thing  to face every day. I fail. A lot.

Today, I weighed myself. I am 281.7 lbs.

Some of you who don’t know the background are probably thinking that 45 lbs is damn good in 9 months. And it is. But, the sad truth is that 281.7 is up from where I was in September.

I returned home from Worldcon in Chicago at 274. I proceeded to get sick(unrelated to weight loss) and was in the hospital for 14 days. I had pieces of me taken out. I lost more weight and was down to 258. I had to start everything from scratch. My eating habits were broken. They did not let me have anything to eat for 12 days and pumped me full of fluids. Naturally, the first thing I did when I got home and started recovery was eat like a pig.

I couldn’t exercise either, which put a damper on my mood and spirit. I ate more to compensate for those feelings. See the cycle?

So I made a deal. Yes, another deal with myself. You see, people like us make constant deals to circumvent progress.

“I’ll start tomorrow.”

“One cookie (which turns in to 10) won’t hurt.”

“I’ll work doubly hard tomorrow.”

I made a deal that I’d start the diet again and the exercise regime after the holidays. Until then, gluttony was totally okay because everything would be fixed come January 2nd, 2013 . That would be the first day.

I regret that decision a lot. (People like us do that a lot too.) I have a lot of ground to make up. However, the first day has been okay. Hard, but okay. Despite the appetite suppressant and following the diet and the moderate exercise I did, my stomach wants more. It’s angry and hates me. It tells me so.  A side effect of training it to want and demand more.

At 326, I made a video as to why I was doing this. What I wanted to accomplish. Perhaps I will share that with you some day.

At 281.7, I made another video that I am electing to post. As a reminder of how far I’ve come, how far I’d like to go, why I am starting again and where I’d like to be.

Say what you will, but recording the video has not only sparked the desire once again, but my fingers  have been too busy typing  and not shoving shit in my mouth.

So here I am. From me to me at 281.7.

It’s not for you to enjoy, but to listen, understand and for those of you who are struggling with the same thing, to emphasize that you are most certainly, not alone.

From Me to Me at 281.7 from Kate Baker on Vimeo.

Vacant Twighlight

The Last Candle

Tonight, my family and I attended a vigil remembering the victims of the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting.  I had spoken to my twelve year old daughter and sixteen year old son about the event as I was sure they’d hear about from friends in their own schools. I needed them to know that they were safe. Perhaps telling them so made me feel just a little bit better as I prepare to send them back to school tomorrow. Yet I couldn’t bear to tell my youngest. As we are all aware, we grieve not only for the adults lost but for the smallest of voices silenced on Friday morning.

Allyson is the same age.  I can’t take that innocence away from her. Not yet. I can’t tell her news that would possibly make her feel unsafe or heighten her anxiety. It’s hard not to pull her into a hug at every moment, and I couldn’t share with her why we had gathered on the steps of the Church in town on a cold, rainy evening. Yet she stood there, quiet and respectful, whispering softly whenever she needed to speak with me. She sang in her boldest voice, though she did not know the words of the songs, and bowed her head though she has not been formally taught to pray.

A crowd of around one hundred  hugged and held candles that swiftly blew out due to wind. We prayed for the victims and spoke of forgiveness. We listened and cried  as each name was read complete with age, inciting anger and sorrow within our hearts.  We stared in awe as the last name was called and a small table stood beautifully bold and full of the fire of lives snuffed out just two days ago.

The candle that Allyson held in her hands quickly flickered out due to the wind. Unable to bear her disappointment, I gave her mine and held her darkened tea light. Lexie’s flame faded and was quickly followed by the light Will held in his hand. Allie found all of this quietly amusing until her candle once again succumbed to the weather. My father quickly remedied the situation, offering our family’s last light to her which held for the remainder of the ceremony.

My heart  is with the victims and the families of Newtown, CT. I reflect in silence and respect of the first and last responders who waded through hell and will forever remember the horror of that day.  As people, we grieve for those who were lost, whose lights were so quickly dimmed and smothered. As parents, unbelievable grief touches us in our souls and stomachs, wishing that no one should experience the void of a lost child, or mother, or son or daughter.

I stood there on those steps, watched my breath dissolve with each syllable of song and thought about all of this. This moment, these last few days, the passing, so thoughtfully of a flame from grandfather to granddaughter, so that she could cup that light in her hand. There was no thought to these actions. It was immediate, just as sure as the intentions of  teachers who selflessly stepped in front of bullets to protect their students.

To me, Allyson represented all those little lights tonight. She held them and protected them all in the last candle that didn’t go out.