Meltdown, Part 3

Given that there is no cure, I suppose I must wait until this passes.

There are tunnels between the buildings at McLean Hospital, underground passages connecting each unit.  Laundry gets passed back and forth in the tunnels.

The tunnels are very old, older than me.

While Joe was a patient at North Belknap 2, we had sex in one of the tunnels, in a forgotten bathroom, and didn’t get caught.

Recently, he was in a dream I had.

Meltdown, Part 2

Okay, I’m back.

Evil is everywhere in my world, everywhere in the world as I know it. 

Everything’s a dollar in this box.

I cannot say too much about the Beings, as this site is a public place.  Things can get into the wrong hands, as a dear friend pointed out.

Look closely at your hands.  Are yours the wrong ones?  Are yours?  You, or you? or you?

Everything is very scary.

My therapist finally called back. 

It is useless.  Nothing will help me.

Meltdown, Part 1

I am going to try to describe what is going on.

My thinking isn’t clear at the moment so it’s difficult to write in a way that others can comprehend.  I’ll do my best.

It would be accurate to say that I have had some kind of meltdown.

One of my wonderful WeightWatchers friends said perhaps I’m exhausted from working so hard at school stuff.

Updates are ready for my computer.  They’re being installed.

My thoughts, that is, the thoughts in my head, are very distorted.  I can’t sort them.  They come as they please.  They are borrowed thoughts from someone else’s head, not mine.  Many heads, superhuman and subhuman.

The vastness and pettiness of humanity.

Puzzle, meanwhile, spends an awful lot of time chasing her tail.

I must restart.  I’ll send this off, restart, and then continue. 

Bye for now.

Bus story

I saw a man on the bus who I believed was in trouble.  He wasn’t your average passenger sleeping on the bus.  This guy was trying to stay awake and couldn’t.  He was more tired than I ever have been with my all-nighters.  He was trying to solve a crossword puzzle but couldn’t get beyond the first letter without falling asleep, his head in his lap, pencil falling to his feet.  He attempted to sip some Pepsi but fell asleep doing that, too, nearly spilling his drink onto his lap.  At one point he fell asleep leaning well into the aisle of the bus, and nearly fell.

He was a Harvard student, a kid, really.  He wore a Harvard hat, a Harvard sweatshirt, carried a Harvard Bookstore bag filled with books, pens, and stuff Harvard kids would carry.

I asked myself: Who is this man?  He obviously hadn’t showered or shaved for several days.  At what stop was he planning to get off?  Was someone picking him up?  If he had to walk to his destination, would he be safe in traffic?  Did he in fact have a destination?

Then I asked myself:  Should I ask this kid if he needs help?  Should I offer to call an ambulance, if he needs one?  Should I alert the bus driver?  First of all, I told myself, I am not a doctor, nurse, or social worker, and so I am not qualified to determine whether this kid needs an ambulance or not.  Secondly, my cell phone is broken.

I left the bus and came home.

Several hours later, I realized something.  Would I have cared so much about the kid if he hadn’t been a Harvard student?  Did the combination of his condition and his social status seem incongruous to me?  Did it seem so unlikely that I felt I had to act on it?

Life isn’t always rosy

I read a book for school that I didn’t like, John D’Agata’s Halls of Fame. I was tempted to skim the book or even skip chapters; the latter I didn’t do, but I admit to skimming a few pages here and there.  I was rewarded when I reached the final chapter; the last essay was a good read.  Then I wrote my paper about the book.  I found myself writing about what I didn’t like about the book, and when it came time to write about what I took away from the book, what I learned and could apply to my own writing, I came up with negatives, what I learned NOT to do.  I learned NOT to invite the reader to skim–ever.  I learned NOT to write commentary, notes, or excuses about my essays after the fact, and let’s see, what else….I learned to put enough of myself into my essays to let the “I” shine through instead of being a passive witness or receptacle for information.  Then I woke up this morning.

Then I woke up this morning and said to myself, “Gee, I actually liked that book.”  I had a whole new perspective on it.  I don’t know if I should rewrite the paper or let it stand–I think I’ll leave it be, because part of my liking the book has to do with writing the paper and without the paper I don’t think I’d like the book so much!

However, I’m slightly embarrassed because I LOVED all the other books I’ve read so far this semester.  D’Agata’s stands out like–sorry–a sore thumb.

I suppose more than occasionally, it rains.

Joshua, I hope you feel better soon.

Here’s proof

If there are any doubts as to whether I have lost weight, here’s proof:

My highest weight: 197

Here’s me at 164:

fat face crop

My current weight: 144.  Here I am:

me at 144

No camera tricks!  Yes, the lighting’s different.  That can’t be helped.  I took today’s photo myself.  What is most noticable is that I am wearing the same pair of glasses in both pictures.  Plus I look a helluva lot happier now than I did 20 pounds ago.

~~~~Waving hello to my sisters at WeightWatchers!!!  I couldn’t have done it without you!!!!~~~~~