Thereís something innately wrong about starting a new drug two days before Christmas when your shrink is gone. The list includes:
Whee! Iím on a new drug. Its Christmas. I donít know the effects of it and yet Iím going to a house full of relatives anyways!
Why am I suddenly sleeping 18 hours a day and feel like Iím totally stoned the other six?
Hey, Iím kinda amusing when Iím stoned. I can even hear myself talk but thereís this weird reverb noise and everything seems to be echoing. Whatís up with that?
Why do I suddenly feel like Iím watching myself on a video, even though Iím just standing there listening to my brother talking in the middle of Target. And yet I felt like I could go up in some operating booth, look down on the scene and say: ďOkay, now weíre gonna zoom in on witty and do a voiceover.
Witty:ĒWhy am I standing here listening to my brother babble on and on? Blah, blah, blah. Me, me, me. He did stop once and said I looked ďartsyĒ. Must be my beret. Yeah. And the fact that I have large dark circles under my eyes and yet appear extremely wired and agitated. Did he notice that? Doubtful. Its my brother after all.
Why did I draw our model tonight with arms made out of cactus and the word ďPOOPĒ under her butt?
I donít know either.
And what the hell did I do with that bag of M&Ms I bought yesterday? I tore my house apart like Jack Lemmon in ďDays of Wine and RosesĒ, looking for those feakiní M&Ms. Now where are they? Where!?? I need them NOW!!
And then I was wondering why everytime I tried to make a joke tonight, I came up with absolutely nothing. Zilch. I mean this is (cough) awittykitty weíre talking about. I felt like I was suffocating under a vast pillow of packing peanuts. I mean, whereís my funny?
I was so bland and well-behaved at our family Christmas party (meaning my pentacle was out of view), that my Born Again Christian cousin didnít even try to convert me.
So Iím not sure how to take my behavior on this new medication. I needed some help with my depression this last month and I hadnít taken anything new in years. But walking around feeling like Iím walking inside a giant Salvador Dali painting, is very disconcerting. Do I like it? Well, Iím actually a little scared by it. Should I just tough it out and hope that the otherworldly feelings go away. Or should I just wait until I donít have a shred of spontaneity or humor left in my body and get mistaken for Dick Cheney.
I guess the choice is mine.
16 comments so far << | >>
upsy, downsy, upsy, splat! - 2010-05-22
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when finding a head in the recycling bin is the highlight of your month - 2010-03-28
fifty two chances to be awesome...ok maybe - 2010-02-20
its sorta like "Grease" except there's no musical numbers and I'm really old - 2010-02-05