fasting epitome of incomprehensibility I didn't eat food today, although I drank juice and tea because I don't like feeling faint (it makes me panic and think I'm dying). I didn't have work and I was planning to spend the day in quiet reading and writing, but for much of the time I had to clean up. Then I walked to the library and back - that was okay, I had enough energy - but I forgot my library card, so I couldn't borrow anything new. Basically, not eating makes me tired. Also, for some reason, I both sweat and get cold more easily. My stomach isn't sore, just feels a bit empty, and it's rather pleasant to feel these pants not as tight around the waist. But don't worry, I'm not anorexic. I'll resume eating as usual tomorrow. I'd forgotten what it was like not to eat for a day, deliberately. When I was 11 and 13 (and maybe 12, though I don't remember the in-between year - it's hard to remember in-between things) I signed up with some other kids for a day-long "famine" to raise money for nutrition and anti-poverty things. They stayed all night in a local church basement playing games - the first year I couldn't join them, I didn't want to be away from home, but I was kind of embarrassed to be picked up at 10 pm - and the next time, I stayed the night, and I remember one of the leaders stopping some boys from playing Grand Theft Auto because it was too violent. Maybe it was the time in between, then, where my most potent memory occurs. If it wasn't the time I was 13. I'm not entirely convinced I did this thing when I was 12. Anyway, this was during the day. Two potential meals had passed without me eating anything, and I was singing in a choir concert. That wasn't hard. My mouth might have been a little dry, but I was okay. The hard part was afterwards. I remember walking in a line with the other choristers in our red-white-and-black uniforms, a line that broke up once we got into the dressing room, and being confronted with FRESH AND BEAUTIFULLY SUGARY FRUITS AND DESSERTS. Maple squares, nanaimo bars, little orange slices... exactly the kind of things I liked. We didn't always get free snacks like this - one or more of the parents must've brought them in - and it was a test of willpower not to reach out a hand and take a bite of something. I didn't, though. I was loyal to the people who'd donated ten bucks on the promise that I wouldn't eat for 24 hours, even though it wouldn't have made a material difference to the organization (and hungry people) getting the money. Update: I am eating yogurt. Rather miraculously, on Saturday a friend gave me and my family two containers of lactose-free yogurt she didn't want. It's 10 now, so 24 hours since I last ate something, give or take. This morning, I said to myself 24 hours and then I could eat. So it's all good. In the Catholic tradition, people sometimes fast at Lent. But it's more than a month until Easter, too long to go without food altogether... Perhaps, like Muslims at Ramadan, they don't eat between sunrise and sunset. Still a trying endeavor. Here, the spiritual discipline, for someone who isn't especially spiritual, was to fast and not become grumpy. (There's a challenge to all ascetics - and no, I'm hardly an ascetic. I refuse to take cold showers in the winter, for instance.) But I appreciated this exercise, whatever its purpose, and look forward to eating more tomorrow. 140310 ... e_o_i But I am so ridiculous. I only ate yogurt because I was afraid eating too much at once would keep me awake, plus I didn't even think to put any food on the desk beside my bed in anticipation of this: waking up at 4 AM, ravenous... I did think that word, ravenous, and was pleased with myself for remembering such an apt expression, but the fridge is down a flight of stairs and I was afraid I would faint. Now if I'd just sat down and started breathing slowly, I'd have stopped panicking. I could've shuffled down the stairs on my rear end if I were worried, and then I'd have ended up laughing at myself and calming down, but I'm not rational when I wake up at night in a worried state. Instead, I called to my mother, waking her up to ask her to get food. Worse, I was specific. (Wrongly specific. I said bagel when I meant croissant. My heart was beating too fast and apt expressions fled my mind.) She grumbled, rightly enough, and said my tongue didn't seem faint, returning soon enough with raisins, orange juice, and the heel of a loaf of challah bread. No croissants were left. Nor bagels, apparently. I'm supposed to be grown up by now. I can't go around bothering people to do things I can do myself. I shouldn't live with people I'm related to if I'm just going to act like a baby. The idea of this whole exercise was to depend on less without bothering people and I failed. At least I learned: 1) not eating makes me hungry (a good start); 2) I need to realize my physical and mental limits and plan accordingly; 3) I need to think of other people's needs and not be so selfish; and, relatedly, 4) if I were really poor I wouldn't always be able to find food - hunger like that would be part of daily life, and I wouldn't have been able to get an education and learn the word "ravenous" because I'd have to do menial labour to survive. That's international-poor, not Dorval-poor. My next spiritual exercise will be to define "affectionate parody." 140311 what's it to you? who go blather from