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anywhere anywhere

So in case you were wondering what I do when I pack up my Josef Mengele-brand little steel tray of pokey-things and traipse upstairs to the Animal Facility to spread woe and sow terror among the four-footed, PETA has recently cobbled a lovely comic book together to explain things for you. I especially enjoy using my Dr. Octopus needle/scissors decapitation machine. Thanks, Fisher Scientific! Got a free t-shirt with that order. We are really lucky: Not since Maus has anyone harnessed the power of the comic book to set the record straight on true atrocity.

I was pretty off yesterday after getting back to work. I should've stayed there only until maybe 6 but I lingered until 10 and went home to be a vegetable. It doesn't take much to depress me, and finding out my landlord is screwing me over along with dropping 500 on a tow and the too much sun I got in the towyard really did it. My bike is like 700 pounds and really wipes you out to move it around by yourself, and that kind of activity usually makes me feel better but knowing it's just another shackle now kind of turned the whole gig into a bummer.

But I don't want to get any medicine for anything because drugs are always bad for you (I'm sure that was the title for my dissertation to the pharmacology dept). Actually I don't want to have any mental health treatments in my medical records and I have a rather profound distrust of mental health professionals (except for my good friend silversledge and his wife but only because I know them personally). I never felt so miserable as after I moved here though: the people are the worst and maybe I'll never get why. I want to forget I ever came here when my time is done, and go to another area. Maybe the West coast or maybe Europa Europa. I have a year to decide. I had a headhunter call me at work a week or so ago to see if I was interested in leaving academia to get a job in an industry position. I told her to call me back in a year. I should have reached through the phone and began begging her to throw me one of those golden parachutes I hear so much about so I can fly away like Mary Poppins' umbrella.


Sep. 6th, 2009 05:01 pm (UTC)
Going mental
Counter-anecdata: Trauma-specific therapy for my complex PTSD has reduced both the number and, how do I put it, amplitude? severity? of the seizures that are a part of that syndrome.
Sep. 6th, 2009 05:40 pm (UTC)
Re: Going mental
That really is excellent, and I'm happy to hear that; I don't have a distrust of psychologists/iatrists/therapists' abilities, though. I have a distrust of their ethics. Over the years I've visited three separate 'professionals' and in all three instances they profoundly breached their professional ethics. Fool me four times is shame on ... who knows, but I don't see myself finding out soon.
Sep. 6th, 2009 08:37 pm (UTC)
Re: Going mental
Mind you, I've metaphorically kissed a lot of metaphorical frogs in mental-health professions, too. I've had one who belittled my spinal cord disorder; one who just routinely depressed me more; and the one whose testimony won the acquittal of Lorena Bobbitt. (I wouldn't mind that, only the shrink kept testing drugs on me, including antipsychotics.) But this one is very nearly as cool as the one who had seen the Grateful Dead's first East Coast tour.