Yes, I seem to be going out of my mind, literally. Medication changes. I am a person who needs to accomplish something to feel good about myself, whether that be getting a certificate for completing a class or writing a poem. Some months it is even paying the bills. Or better, get a paycheck, instead of a disability check.
Today, after a long time of trying to figure out what/who I really am, I wrote a poem. Probably because of the MOOC that I am taking from Coursera.org - a poetry class, of other people's poetry, not writing poetry. But not before tormenting the testosterone-enabled beings in the household with a suicide watch, so sorry folks, but I cannot tolerate my little sanctuary being invaded anymore with loud voices that seem to be coming down on me. Oh, do I want to tell the world about this? Do I? Well, there is nothing cut in stone here. I could be bluffing, lying just for effect. How do you know I am telling the truth? How does anyone know if they are telling the truth? Evidence? There is none.
The picture? A closeup of the top of the Space Needle in Seattle, all lit up, slightly distorted like my brain on this new prescription, as if there was this cramping of my frontal lobe, a dehydration of sorts - will call doctor tomorrow and quit, though I do say the poem I wrote was rather good. Can you tell that this was taken off the television set (yes, an older model set, not HD for sure). The one below shows the reflection of the camera flash in the upper left corner, but if I had not told you, well, what would you have thought? Aliens invading? Lights in the sky? Yes, out of my mind.
Today, after a long time of trying to figure out what/who I really am, I wrote a poem. Probably because of the MOOC that I am taking from Coursera.org - a poetry class, of other people's poetry, not writing poetry. But not before tormenting the testosterone-enabled beings in the household with a suicide watch, so sorry folks, but I cannot tolerate my little sanctuary being invaded anymore with loud voices that seem to be coming down on me. Oh, do I want to tell the world about this? Do I? Well, there is nothing cut in stone here. I could be bluffing, lying just for effect. How do you know I am telling the truth? How does anyone know if they are telling the truth? Evidence? There is none.
The picture? A closeup of the top of the Space Needle in Seattle, all lit up, slightly distorted like my brain on this new prescription, as if there was this cramping of my frontal lobe, a dehydration of sorts - will call doctor tomorrow and quit, though I do say the poem I wrote was rather good. Can you tell that this was taken off the television set (yes, an older model set, not HD for sure). The one below shows the reflection of the camera flash in the upper left corner, but if I had not told you, well, what would you have thought? Aliens invading? Lights in the sky? Yes, out of my mind.