There's an easy solution

This week, the FBI foiled a plot by Mohamed Osman Mohamud, 19, a naturalized U.S. citizen born in Somalia, in Portland, Oregon.

News reports indicate that someone from Mohamud's mosque alerted the FBI to the teen's spiraling radicalism and his expressed hatred of America and Americans.

Mohamed, dear, what the fuck is wrong with you? You chose to become a U.S. citizen--certainly, neither the government nor the people of this country forced you to study all that history and civics and then shoved the privilege of citizenship down your throat. When you took your oath of citizenship, you vowed to support and defend this country and its constitution. The right to bear arms was meant to defend America, not to blow up little children at a Christmas tree lighting.

You are a despicable, disgusting, arrogant, ungrateful teenager. A child, really. What do your parents think? Is this why they kept you safe in Dadaab and made sure you arrived safely in the United States? Are they proud? Are you still proudly defiant?

Son, you can take that citizenship certificate and shove it up your ass--all the way up, as far as it will go until it kicks you in the gut.

Every day, people in dire circumstances around the world risk their lives so they can see their children stay alive and then find a new life in this country. You mock them by doing this.

In case you missed it while you were probably blowing off your free education here, the United States was not responsible for the anarchy and chaos in Somalia. Moron. In fact, I'll bet you can't even read the Koran. If you could understand it or had actually studied it, you'd know that what you attempted is not condoned anywhere in the document. Were you too busy trying to be a suburban gang-banger to actually educate yourself?

I think you should go. This country gave you opportunity, but you stll felt entitled to something and you were a petulant diva when you didn't get it. The United Sates of America owes you nothing.

Nobody--NOBODY--was forcing you to stay here or to be a citizen of this country. You were free to practice your religion. You were free to speak your mind. You were welcome and free to leave at any time. All you had to do was get on a plane and fly to Somalia, tough guy. You would have been welcomed with open arms, handed a gun, and asked to show your allegiance to your cause by actually fighting openly.

Forget the trial. You get a one-way ticket to Mogadishu, but you can only take with you what you had when you left. You can't take any money. You can't take a gun. You can't take a cell phone or a suitcase full of desirable American clothes. No, you get off the plane and see how fabulous your life would have been had your parents stayed put. Prove yourself.

I hope you get the death penalty. You are a waste of DNA material. Until then, may you bunk with a Neo-Nazi white supremacist.

It's on its way

I have multiple posts started and not posted. They're coming. I'm collecting my thoughts, albeit slowly, ever so slowly.

There are things to ponder here. Nonexistent bipolar disorder and the meaning of experience. Jolie's concerns that I have anorexic tendencies (trust me, I don't). Quitting the project that is most near and dear to my heart. Wondering about the sanity of the world. Pondering the thought that we should all just fly naked. Chardonnay. The trip to Florida that Frontier Airlines screwed me out of.

I have five days off starting tomorrow morning. Writing will resume. Reading, well, that's an entirely different issue.

600

I had 600 calories today, and I think that's fuckin' AWESOME. Unfortunately, Frank wants me to eat dinner. I avoided it last night, but don't think I can get away with that two nights in a row.

I'll just exercise more later. Hehe.

If I just try harder

I picked up a copy of People magazine today. I don't know why--it's not my usual reading fare unless I'm in a doctor's waiting room.

The cover story was about Porti DeRossi and how at one point, she successfully dieted down to 82 pounds. It was inspiring, really. She was very dedicated and disciplined, and the more weight she lost, she got an incredible amount of positive feedback and encouragement at work. She started at 115 pounds, but was considered fat for being in the public eye, so she did something about it.

Thank you for telling your story, Portia. It was inspiring. I am now further galvanized in my resolve to achieve the American ideal. The retail world puts larger sizes in dark, hidden corners of stores for a reason. Being anything other than a curveless, vertical shape is so reviled, how can anyone bear to not at least be trying to be physically "less"?

People will feign shock at an 82-pound woman, but let's be honest--that kind of weight and body shape are really very valued in America.

Portia, I'm going to try harder to get my weight closer to double-digits the way you did.

Today was a total failure. Although I did exercise this morning, I wish I had read Portia's story before I had:

Coffee
Scrambled egg whites
1 slice of cheese
3 fingerling potatoes
6 0z. orange juice

1 bowl miso soup with cabbage
a slice 70-calorie lowfat cheese

a glass of wine
10 small lowfat raviolis
1/3 cup fat-free spaghetti sauce
green salad
1/3 cup sugar-free applesauce

Maybe tomorrow and going forward I can cut that in half. I feel pretty disgusting right now, but I'm not a purger, so I have to live with this shame and failure for now.

Monday is a new day, and the plan is:
1 packet oatmeal
1/4 cup lowfat yogurt
coffee

1 bowl miso soup with cabbage & seaweed

green salad w/egg white

Resolve. Discipline. Come on, May. Focus. Don't be a pig.

Anxiety

The only feeling that pulls me off kilter more than depression is anxiety. Lately, I'm swimming in it, but I don't know why.

There are a thousand things I could be worried about, but it's not that specific. It's not even "worry" in the traditional sense. I feel generally anxious, but without any particular root cause that I can identify--yet.

I just keep reminding myself that anxiety is a self-manufactured emotion. It's not a condition, it's a feeling. It's something the brain makes up, sometimes with good reason, but in my case, for no specific reason at all.

I wake up immersed in feelings of dread. I watch the clock all day, worried that I'm going to miss something important, even when I have nothing on the agenda.

Anxiety, anxiety, anxiety, hand-wringing, lip-chewing, foot-shaking anxiety. It is unpleasant, to say the least.

I'm not planning on addressing it with medication; rather, I believe that self-talk should do the trick. "May, take a slow, deep breath. Relax. You are fine. There is no crisis. There is no impending critical event. Just breathe. What are you so afraid of? What is looming over you?"

I read recently that a B12 deficiency can cause one to feel anxious. Perhaps the supplements aren't working.

Perhaps I'm just a neurotic dweeb.