Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Stop Bitchin', You Anxious Fuck

Hello, everyone. I feel compelled to point out a couple of reasons why I haven't been posting to my beloved 'blog as of late. It has little to do with ennui, and even less to do with an industrial accident. It has to do with the level of mental clarity I currently possess, and the existential crisis that lives within the fog.

Naturally, I'll explain.

About three weeks ago, I got the hankerin' for a new psychiatric drug that may help stave off the mind-blowing anxiety I feel for no good reason. Pretending to be Anne Coulter at a dinner conference of angry feminists would cause me less anxiety than going to buy a hot dog down the street. Incidentally, both scenarios are equally outlandish. I get HOT DOGS from outside the home, and make a HOT DOG from within. I don't go out just to get a one hot dog.

Anyway, mundane daily events cause mucho panic, agoraphobia and anxiety. So I thought I'd try a drug called, "Shutthefuckup" by Merck. Actually, it's called, "Abilify." It's an anti-psychotic that has been used for anxiety. I was happy to be trying it, but soon after my first pill I realized that I might have mistakenly trusted a pharmaceutical ad. Imagine my disappointment.

The short story is that I got really sick, with the fever and the vomiting and all that. While the drug did work to the extent that I wasn't anxious anymore, the fear of death caused me to stop.

But ever since then, a permafrost exists betwixt my ears and the stuffin' seems to have been permanently knocked off my mental Egg McMuffin, in psychiatric terms. It's a little scary to think that one may be on the road to the Special Olympics (the one where they don't let you hold a torch). And I don't mean as a volunteer.

I just hope that if my brain melts and flows back through my foramen magnum and into my spinal column, I'll get to leave this life with as much dignity as Ms. Schiavo.

My touch typing ability sucks recently, too. And that really pisses me off. It's the only fucking thing that came out of that "computer" course from high school that isn't obsolete. But my typing, and my brain, are getting better, thus this missive.

Cram it.

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