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Watching: Many, many episodes of Sports Night,
even though I just watched practically all of them two weekends
ago. What can I say, it's comfort television.
Reading: The Pillars of the Earth, by Ken Follett. It's an old book but recommended by two friends, and it's quite engrossing. As an aside: I've updated the book journal. Seeing: Memento. Put this one on your must-see list. Go with other people and plan to have dinner afterwards, because you will absolutely need to talk about it for a long, long time. It is like nothing you have ever seen. Also seeing: Moulin Rouge. I thought it was fantastic, loud and bright and bawdy and seamy and funny as hell and such an over-the-top schmaltzy love story that you really can't help but fall in love with them too. Go see this one too (but, you know, see Memento first) and make sure you sit towards the back, because if you sit too close you will undoubtedly get motion sickness. And now listening: To the Moulin Rouge soundtrack that I purchased on my way home from seeing this movie. As I told my notify list, I now dream of one day having Ewan MacGregor come to my house and sing "Your Song" to me, over and over again. Learning: How to do mouseovers. I'm not saying I'm brilliant at it, but I do have the basic idea. (Okay, what really happened is I found a site where you upload the two images and it gives you the code to cut and paste.) But whatever. Go look at them, if you feel like it.
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For the blathering half of this entry, I'm not sure I have anything to say. I didn't do anything all weekend except see Moulin Rouge on Friday night and Memento on Saturday night, and I covered those appropriately in the sidebar. But maybe I'll blather on about Memento for just a little bit, in case you are not yet convinced that you should see it. (NO SPOILERS, so read on without fear.) If you haven't heard about it: Guy Pearce (the other, not-Russell-Crowe lead detective from L.A. Confidential) is Leonard, a man who suffered a head injury during an attack on his wife which destroyed his short-term memory ability, and thus has left him unable to make any new memories at all. He can remember everything about his life up to his injury, but forgets everything that happens after that in a matter of minutes. But he is on a mission to find the man who killed his wife, so he uses Polaroids and notes to remind himself of where he is in his investigation, and when he feels he has a permanent clue, he tattoos it somewhere on his body. And if you've heard anything at all about this movie, it's that it runs backwards. So, the first scene is him shooting the man. (Okay, I suppose technically that was a spoiler, but it happens about two minutes into the movie.) The second scene ends at the beginning of the first scene. The third scene ends where the second began. And so on. This is definitely not the movie to see if you want to be passively entertained (Moulin Rouge is good for that). You have to work at this one. Frankly, I was taxing my own sorry short-term memory, trying to remember where the last scene started so I would know how the current scene was going to end, but I just couldn't keep track and it doesn't really help you anyway. Like I said in the sidebar, definitely go with at least one other person, and schedule some time afterward to hash it out. You'll need it.
 I know I said in the last entry that I probably wouldn't mention it again, but as it turns out, I do have a few more things to say about it. First of all, there are the incredible responses I received. I won't go on and on about what they meant to me, as I did that to the notify list already and will respond to each one personally anyway. But it did make me realize how many other people struggle as I do, with BED (as Binge Eating Disorder is known), in silence and secrecy. I touched on this briefly before, but there's really no way to explain the shame involved in this particular disorder. I know I'm generalizing here, but part of what drives the shame and compels people with BED to work so hard to hide it is because there is a lack of knowledge and understanding in our society. And I was the perfect example. Just consider this. When you hear of someone who is suffering from anorexia or bulimia, your first reaction is one of sympathy, right? It's a "real" disease. These days, no one looks at someone who has anorexia and says, "Well, gee, why don't you just eat something?" Everyone knows and understands that there is more to it than that. But if you hear of someone who goes out to dinner with friends and eats a restaurant-sized meal and then drives through McDonald's for a Big Mac and large fries to go with the pint of Ben & Jerry's she has at home... "Well, gee, why don't you just not stop at McDonald's?" still seems like a reasonable response, doesn't it? It is, to us. To people with BED, that is precisely what the voice in our heads is telling us, even as we pull up to the drive-thru window to hand the kid our money. It's the same voice that says, "Hello, you're full -- why don't you stop eating now?" as we continue to bite and chew and swallow whatever we can find in our cabinets or refrigerators. And more often than not, and certainly in my case, the head-voice usually provides a running commentary of chastising insults. "You should be ashamed of yourself," is one of its favorites. I didn't understand until last Thursday that I had a "real" disease, too. For years, I truly believed that I would have to start making myself throw up before I would be entitled to ask for help. And because I thought I was just this disgusting pig with no willpower, I never dreamed of admitting to anyone what I was doing, because I assumed they would simply agree with my self-description and I was desperately afraid they would offer advice of the "Why don't you just..." variety. So I said nothing, to anyone, ever. Now. Even though I know now that there is a name for this condition and I'm being treated for it, it's going to take some time to get used to the idea that I am not, in fact, a disgusting pig with no willpower. When you've been telling yourself that once or twice a week for the last seven years, it's probably going to take a bit longer than four days to wear off. However, despite the turning point I have finally reached, I don't want the journal to become all about this particular struggle. But I cannot ignore the heartbreaking stories I have received from some readers who are fighting this same fight, and I have realized that it might be helpful to share my progress and the things I learn along the way. So I'm starting a separate page on this site, which will basically be my own personal BED depository. I'll put helpful links in there, information about treatment and medication, and probably some brief journal-type entries about how I'm handling things. Whenever I update it, I'll put a link in the sidebar, then you can click on it or not depending on how much you feel like hearing about it. It's 12:47 a.m. now, and I can't think of a pithy way of ending this entry, so I'll just say good night. And thank you, so much, especially to everyone who wrote me and most especially to Elise, Kay, and my girls. I'm not sure I would have been able to get through this without you.
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