Meghan Elward-Duffy
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My name is Meghan Elward-Duffy. I am a logophilic, photo snapping, graduate of Larry David's alma mater who recently ditched the District of Columbia for Dublin, Ireland. In a former life, I worked as a photographer and an intern at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. Nearly all of my income is spent on books, food, traveling, and coffee.

This blog chronicles my life as a starving college graduate and was originally featured in the student blog network of the University of Maryland. Please note that all views and opinions are my own and not necessarily those of my employers.

email: melwardduffy at gmail dot com

27 January 12

pterodactyls:

Sometimes when I can’t sleep I page through my folder of Nixon photos and wonder which Nixon I will be tomorrow. Today was a ‘Nixon finds this food not to his liking,’ but I’ve got my fingers crossed for a ‘Nixon meeting Robocop’ tomorrow. Though, honestly, a ‘Nixon checking his watch while greeting supporters’ or ‘Nixon catching imaginary football’ would be more than acceptable. 

Reblogged: pterodactyls

25 January 12

Ose

True story: between senior year of high school and junior year of college, I gained about 30 pounds and went from a size 6-8 to a size 14. I was depressed, inactive, and honestly didn’t give two fucks about how much food I stuffed in my face. I watched the number on the scale go up. I wanted to change myself. And instead of doing something healthy, I stopped eating or made myself sick after I did eat something. I dropped 15 pounds in the span of two weeks. It was painful, but I didn’t care because I loved the way I looked.

Today, I am around a size 10. But ever since I lost those initial fifteen pounds, my metabolism and my way of looking at food has changed for the worst. I’m about 95% sure I have an actual case of sugar addiction, and I still have severe issues with food that are totally irrational and crazy. I feel bad for acting the way that I do about what I put into my body, and prefer to eat in private for fear that someone will judge me or question my eating habits. My boyfriend is extremely supportive of me and the way that I look and wants me to be happy regardless of my dress size. And he claims to understand my unique breed of crazy and knows not to offer sweets because it will make me feel awful about myself. And while we’ve had discussions on my gastric crazy, I need to write a portion of this out and getout of my own head because it’s seriously some True Life I Used to be Fat and Crazy but now I’m Half as Fat and Twice as Crazy kind of stuff.

Today I am thinking clearly.

Yesterday I was not. My boyfriend made amazing lamb stew with delicious veggies and beautiful, tender, pieces of an entity that once ‘baa’d’ and ate a lot of grass. And I can’t stop thinking about how delicious it was. However, he also made cous-cous and it totally went against the whole refined carbohydrate hate-train I’ve been on. But I ate it anyway and felt a pang of regret when I finished because I ate a white starchy substance.

That is insane.

After dinner, we dove into some chocolate biscuit cake his Mum had bought for us at Ardkeen in Waterford. I told myself I would only have one piece and that I would be able to resist the temptation for one or eight more. One slice down and all I could think about was the dessert sitting on the table that I wasn’t eating. I couldn’t help myself and had more. And more. Until Al took it away from me after seeing the intensity in my eyes for just one more piece. We went out afterwards, but all I could think about was the biscuit cake that waited for me at home and whether or not I hated myself for eating it or whether or not I would hate myself more or less for having the two pieces left in the fridge.

That is totally insane.

Today we drove from Waterford to Celbridge and met up with his aunt who offered us tea (read: cake, banana bread, and [mother-fucking] chocolate biscuit cake). I had some because I told myself that I deserved it, and that I worked hard enough to be able to enjoy things like biscuit cake. Additionally, I was a guest in this woman’s house and I definitely didn’t want to offend her for not having the treats she offered so willingly.
I do this. I tell myself its ok when I know its not and talk myself into something that I know will eventually make me miserable. And for some reason; be it masochism or addiction, I eat things that will make me sad.

As soon as I got to work, I locked myself in the bathroom and I hated myself. My eyes filled up with tears and I cried. Because I ate biscuit cake; currently my favourite thing in the world. And because I’d already had 12 grams of carbohydrates in a slice of high-fibre bread that morning. I started running over the options in my head: Skip dinner? Eat nothing else for the rest of the day?

That is totally fucking insane and I am not this girl, and this is not a way to live life.

Because this, with the biscuit cake and the carbohydrates and the calorie counting. This is insane. I’m really struggling to find balance, and struggling to understand that I need to make a lifestyle change and that if I eat a ton of sugar one day, I’m not going to wake up in the morning and be a size 14 again. My situation is not unique, and almost everyone struggles with eating – and truthfully, I am so unbelievably fortunate that the people in my life, from my friends to my boy to random people on the internet are so ridiculously positive and involved and encouraging and educated about health and fitness that the only shred of negativity through my whole life has been in my own head.

But the girl who cried over biscuit cake today is the worst. I used to make fun of that girl behind her back. And chocolate biscuit cake is fucking delicious, for God’s sake. I should be crying when I DON’T eat it. Come on now.

20 January 12
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

Blur - Tender

Reblogged: sexmusic

19 January 12

…and guess who’s homesick?

10 January 12
So much happy.

So much happy.

Posted: 2:48 PM
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

The Naked and Famous - Young Blood

(Source: kyoxraine)

Reblogged: kyoxraine

8 January 12
alsphotos:

Shooting Tom Cooney in preparation for his up and coming album launch, which is really quite good; http://tomcooney.bandcamp.com/album/the-repetition

Assisted by the lovely Meghan Elward-Duffy; http://meghanelwardduffy.tumblr.com/

alsphotos:

Shooting Tom Cooney in preparation for his up and coming album launch, which is really quite good; http://tomcooney.bandcamp.com/album/the-repetition

Assisted by the lovely Meghan Elward-Duffy; http://meghanelwardduffy.tumblr.com/

Reblogged: alsphotos

Posted: 5:52 PM

alsphotos:

If there’s one way to ring in the New Years weekend, it’s like this. And copious amounts of good food, beer and Old Fashioned’s. 

Now, back to business.

Reblogged: alsphotos

Posted: 3:11 PM
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

Caribou - Sun (Altrice’s ‘Only What You Gave Me’ Remix)

Posted: 3:03 PM

I live the gay lifestyle, the gay lifestyle that is often mentioned by some Republican candidates for president. For those who are unfamiliar with the lifestyle, this is a typical day:

7:00 a.m. I wake up, and just as I have done every morning since puberty, I choose to be gay today. This will come as a great relief to my gay, homosexual, male lover who lies beside me. Because being gay is a choice, our relationship is a gamble day to day. Even though we have both chosen to remain gay and to be together every day for the past 16 years, we never take anything for granted. One of us just might throw in the towel one day and give up the lifestyle.

7:30 a.m. I take a gay shower and let the gay water rinse off my gay body.

8:00 a.m. I have a gay breakfast of cereal with milk, and a good, strong, gay cup of coffee. I am fortified for another day of ruining the fabric of American society.

9:00 a.m. I start my morning shift as a gay hospital volunteer. The hospital is not gay, just me. The patients are mostly normal people. But it is OK. The hospital has a rule that all volunteers must sanitize their hands before meeting with patients. This is to avoid spreading germs, but I think that hand sanitizer is also effective in stopping the transfer of my gayness to other people.

12:00 p.m. I return home, eat a gay lunch and take my gay dogs for a walk. Well, I am not sure if the dogs are actually gay. I have heard it said that homosexuality does not exist in the animal kingdom because it is not natural, so chances are that the dogs are not gay. But because they live with me and my gay, homosexual, male lover, they are perceived by others to be gay. I would feel bad about this, but the fact is that I need these dogs. They are the closest that I will ever come to having actual children, because, as everyone knows, gays should not (and cannot) have children. I push this out of my mind as I walk the dogs gaily through the neighborhood.

1:00 p.m. I teach classes at a small, prestigious, liberal arts college. I am a gay college professor. The college is not gay, just me. But some may view the college as way too liberal, because “sexual orientation” is listed within the college’s anti-discrimination policy. This basically means that the college turns a blind eye as I infect the impressionable students with my gayness on a daily basis. I do not teach anything particularly gay in my classes. I am a theater professor, which, for all intents and purposes, is gay to most people, anyway.

6:00 p.m. My gay, homosexual, male lover returns home from his job. Luckily, he has chosen to be gay today, too, so we can sit down and have a nice, relaxing gay dinner together. We are aware that our relationship is ripping at the seams of our heterosexual neighbors’ marriages, but we choose to ignore this. If we were normal people, the guilt might weigh on us heavily, but we are gay, after all, so we do not have consciences. We eat in peace.

8:00 p.m. We go gay bowling at our Suburban Gay Bowling League. There are quite a lot of us homosexuals who gather each week to bowl at our local bowling alley. This makes the normal suburban bowlers uncomfortable, but we do not care. Some of them are openly hostile to us. The more polite ones just stare at us. It makes us feel like we are caged, exotic animals in a zoo. But we count ourselves lucky because the alley owners have sold out. They allow us to bowl here because they are desirous of our ample, disposable gay income. Ah, the almighty dollar! The owners show mercy on the normal suburbanites, though, by putting a buffer zone of two vacant lanes between our gay league and them. We are respectful of this line, which we call the “edge of gayness,” and do not cross it. We try to tone down our gaiety and frivolity by focusing intently on our bowling. The normal suburbanites never venture past their side of the line, either, because it would be unimaginable to them to interact with us.

11:00 p.m. My gay, homosexual, male lover and I collapse from the weariness of the gay lifestyle we have been living today. All of this subversive loving, volunteering, working, eating, playing and socializing is exhausting. Some say the gay lifestyle is self-enslavement, but we just cannot think about that now. Before we fall asleep, we each take out our personal, leather-bound copies of The Gay Agenda. The Gay Agenda is our Bible. We do not look at the real Bible because we are gay and therefore have no religion or morality. We read and strategize how we can best destroy American society tomorrow. Sharing a good, hardy, gay laugh, we each fall into a sound, gay sleep.

Reblogged: golden-notebook

Themed by Hunson. Originally by Josh