I've read a book....

.....And I feel about as sheepish as New Zealand, seriously, it's one of those "How to write for twits" type books.

As I was reading through it and its list of no, no's I was going, oh no, I do that, and that and that until I wanted to hide from myself.

Cripes.

Some flouting of the conventions of good writing has been deliberate some sheer molten incompetence. At times I thought I was being funny and then there was "I'm just having a go!" and "It's the message". It has to stop. I have to make more of an effort. I don't claim to be a writer, hell no, I just write stuff down.

As I insist on doing that, I might as well make an effort to do it as well as I can. You get into noticeable patterns and certain tics surface that are major league irritants, in my case deranged syntax.

Most of it is emotional and mental as much as technical. If one is a problem, it derails fluency.

Since the start of FA, I have felt off centre, off balance and off key, virtually all the time. Part of the excitement of FA is that it is quite an unspoken and unformed perspective. Slight and yet a nexus of where so many societal and cultural fault lines lie, it at times makes me feel like I'm trying to watch five TVs at once.

In nature when the surface has to give way the power is lies in what has been contained, underneath. The fear of fatness is barely about hating fat bodies, if at all that is a surface association. Think of how you used to hate seeing pictures of yourself, how unbearable it could be. Then at some point you realise you are just looking at yourself. Seeing no longer through hate, changes the way you see.

That change is mental, your photo's haven't changed, your mind has. If fat bodies were intrinsically hateable, that change would not be possible. We see and it is converted into a whole picture by our brains. Hate was a distortion and without it our vision returns to the original truth of how we would have seen ourselves, had we not learned this lie.

We are all upset about the potential for upheaval for different reasons and that makes for surprising conclusions from all sides. I can tell that the need to hide one's true feelings and motives makes it hard for anyone to say what they feel directly, even when they can write well.

It's hard to think clearly or at times to think at all.

There's another one, I start thinking I'm talking about one thing, then it turns into a psychological/philosophical audit.

And is it possible to write because more?

I mean really is the universe waiting for me to explain it? If I know so much, why am I not a multi millionairess? Or at least, world dominatrix?

Actually, I'd never fancy the latter. What for? Everyone bends to your will, it would be like everyone was a version of you, never would there be a surprise, how tedious would that be? It's the surprise of others both good and bad that is part of the joy of life, even when it hurts before it's nice.

I've picked up some bad habits since I started blogging, the feeling of having to tip toe around the sensibilities of others is the biggest one-the main reason I'm not on any fat feeds. Trying to stay in contact when the disconnect is difficult to breach, I never used to consider this at all. There have been times when logically I've worked out our views are incompatible, but emotionally, I've felt the need to try and maintain some kind of communication. I speak not in regret but in reaching one's limits. It is better to have tried, if you can.

The wariness of other people's resistance has been a bad influence on liberating some inner flummery that should not have seen the light of day. That's alright, I think if you blog you've got to be prepared to make an arse of yourself (I'm not going to say it, you can think it though).