I've got brain problems.
And when my room mate (who is like my wife at this point) upon returning home finds me, yet again, by myself during daylight hours making a sizable dent in a bottle of gin and chain-smoking on the couch, joylessly watching Tyra Show reruns (such woe!!) while feeling really really bad for myself - suggested what my mom has been saying for years
(Its harder to be all like "OH WHATEVER MOM" when your friends say it...)
I decided, yea, maybe I should. And I mean, unlike sopping up whiskey with your cerebellum, its not going to kill me. Furthermore since I am one of the lucky few who actually have health insurance, I can get my brain worked on, like, for free!
No wait, wait..
I can work on my own brain.
Right?
I shouldn't be so flip about it...I just find something about the whole idea of therapy fucking annoying. Well its not so mysterious. What I find annoying is that NYC offers up a myriad of ways for its inhabitants to display shockingly unpleasant levels self-involvement. So you strive to avoid being completely overtaken by your own ego (or risk becoming a frightening species of gorgon only found in New York), and then the first thing that comes to mind as a sure-fire panacea when you start seeing red doors and wanting to paint them black, is spending your money to essentially force someone to listen to you talk about yourself.
It just annoys me. About me. And I'm going to talk further about it, on this blog, which I write, about me.
Perhaps I am loosing this battle.
So battle lost, I have started "seeing someone."
Everyone says it's important to have "reasonable expectations". I guess that means, for example if I were a lunatic who was seeing gigantic hob goblins with fangs on fire everywhere, I shouldn't hope to eradicate the hob goblins entirely, but perhaps turn them into more petite, benign goblins. Fiery goblins you can live with. Goblins not on fire.
But I'm having a hard time continuing this venture. I don't think I'm really all that interested in not being upset. And some part of me thinks the whole thing is a big snake oil wholesale operation. I don't know...I'm just trying not become Artax in the Swamps of Sadness...you know what I mean.
4 comments:
Hello Amy Gee!
I think nost us us have some mental issue, but some of them can be forgotten with some viagra online
thnx 4 sharin'!
I was just feeling that way the other day, like Artax in the swamps. Then I read some history and discovered that men were fools long before the current fools paraded before us. That made me feel better. As an added bonus, Etrayu has grown up to be quite hot.
Best of luck with therapy.
PS. I might have stolen your image for my own blog post, but for the word "fail". I was rather counting on hope; fuck it, I'm still hoping...for Artax and all the rest to pull out of the swamps.
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