sleeves
snotted down blanket
chewed up counselor
bringing, wringing, bwrought. potatoes and stuff for samosas. a time machine. yourself. September nouns transition-word-ing into February nouns. if you count the poem in these syllables, something will happen
pause
clench
Stole two organ donor eyes to organize my disses. Now there’s no insight in-sight, diss-organized, Mrs.
me and I miss
didn’t plan on writing this & will simply type as quickly as possible
While digging through a “Free Swap” area on campus I came upon a forcefully optimistic series of etchings laid out on some sort of a plaque situation
The Optimist Creed:
Neat. A swirl of reactions shared that space behind my eyes after I located and skimmed over this. One reaction tasted like Wow this is psycho this is brainwashing and another reaction had some sort of a Yeah but you need it, you sick fuck type of overtone. Grabbed the thing, brought it home and made a commitment to memorize it. Thought I’d elect one item on the list as a area to focus on (optimistically, of course) & choose another that seems to be going ok. On typing out the list one jumped out as urgently in need of work and it was less clear which item I’m doing best with. Following that I’m curious to find/post at least an article or two on the neural substrates of positive/negative thinking.
Urgently in need of work: To give so much time to the improvement of yourself that you have no time to criticize others. This one screamed at me.
Doing best: Maybe To make all your friends feel that there is something in them, or To forget the mistakes of the past and press on to the greater achievements of the future? The former case makes me smile because I think friends would have good things to say about that. The issue with the latter would be the hours spent daily ruminating about past/current failures. But the feedback I often get from adults is that in the long game I am overwhelmingly more resilient and future-focused than the other young folks they run into. The discrepancy between that externally-imposed feedback and the actual inner experience/introspective assessment is really jarring but hey, that’s psychology.
Materials & readings on optimism, pessimism, & associated neural bonanza:
From the NYT: Turning negative thinkers into positive ones
“What is Unrealistic Optimism?” (Jefferson, Bortolotti, Kuzmanovic)
In reverse chronological order:
19) Feel a momentary crunch of the small bits of eggshells embedded in your scrambled eggs. Think about easter. Type about it
18) Watch that rubbery pile of protein wobble. Realize silently that you forgot that water.
17) Use your hand. Germ theory is overrated
16) Fuck forks
15) *awful metal sound of fork scraping off the rim of the plate, awful cold feeling of fork on the inside of my forefinger*
14) Sit-fall down into the couch. Think of how accomplished you already are
13) A moment of guilt as you walk past your cats with any type of food: you know they don’t really eat your eggs, but one of the cats at least wants to, even though he just ate his food, , , , , ,
12) Hope that your cats won’t burn themselves on the burner. Put another pot of water on it as it’s cooling off. Don’t forget to bring some water over to the couch in the living room.
11) Eggs done – you resisted dusting them with salt – in your mind a toilet flushes and carries with it dissolving bits of ‘i’m not hypertensive but hey I skipped the salt, good job me’
10) Heat a pan (hear Anthony Bourdain’s voice saying pre-heated. Look at the 2 eggs you removed from the fridge and (hear Anthony Bourdain’s voice saying intermediate, uh, vessel) decide not to use a separate vessel for the eggs. Wonder if Anthony Bourdain would be weirded out that his voice comes into your head as you’re cooking eggs. Cook the eggs.
9) Be a fucking man already
8) Stare at blueberries and strawberries. Stare at freezer. Stare at blueberries and strawberries. Stare at freezer. (they are in the freezer and so you are looking at the frozen blueberries and strawberries inside of the freezer) Let out your first big yawn of the morning. Gleek onto the rim of the freezer. Smile and feel your face stretch in a weird way and think about crow’s feet. Remember that you need to eat. Remember that strawberries and blueberries won’t get you too far.
7) Remember that you need to eat
6) Flush your old coffee grounds and filter down the toilet and make sure that you don’t feel guilty about it whatsoever. Your coffee machine gurgles
5) Get up now you are feeding your cats now you realize you’re fucked get into the kitchen
4)
3)
2) After you agree to sleep separately you take some Benadryl to pass out. You take two benadryl to pass out. Instead they jazz you up for a while until
1) Tell your girlfriend she can’t come over, even if you’d like to sleep next to her. You are already so tired
but I stood up anyways.
I knew not to feed the cats
but I fed them anyways.
I knew not to take my meds
but I took them anyways.
I knew I should smoke (instead of resisting),
but I resisted anyways.
I knew not to stay awake
but I stayed awake anyways.
I knew not to eat breakfast
but I ate breakfast anyways.
I knew not to exercise
but I exercised anyways.
I knew not to shower
but I showered anyways.
I knew not to shower or shave
but I showered and shaved really well anyways.
I knew not to go to class
but I went to class anyways.
I knew not to stay in class
but I stayed in class anyways.
I know that after all of this I’m not supposed to feel shitty
but after all of this I feel shitty anyways.
Let’s say you’re sitting at a bar. You’re 1.5 drinks in: confidence blows in the sail of your diaphragm, smiles are beginning to seep from your cheeks, and the voice in your head informs your sad, previously sober-self: What the hell – I really can achieve my goals, and I really do take myself too seriously, and thank the lord for alcohol! We have to do this more often, you mopey fuck!” As GABA floats across the lanes of your head-highways your brain – rather, you – find yourself settling into a disorganized and disinhibited state of bliss. Euphoria is too complicated a word for a feeling this normal. You’re calm once more.
You’re alone in that sense. Somehow your eyes receive some brainspace from your nose, which has utterly hijacked your experience with an awful perfume smell. An older woman 2 seats over is the hare to your tortoise and the current colonizer of your nostrils. You see that she is already a walking (sitting) vessel for a bottle of wine. She orders another. Some song that your dad really likes plays on the bar speakers as you peek down at her right ankle. No mistaking the Louis Vuitton purse at her side, nor the 3 prescription bottles inside of it. Your background in medicine, druggery, and institutionalization have taught you about privacy, but being medication savvy, 3/4 of a second is all you need: notice that the pill bottles all look fresh but bear different logos: St. Paul Corner Drug, CVS, Walgreens Pharmacy. Citizen-healthy-voter you shouldn’t peek, shouldn’t judge, so you look away and try to mind your drink. Hospital-you sees the after-image of the bottles in your mind’s eye. Amphetamine, Xanax, Prozac. Yet another rich lady with a gaggle of doctors. A gaggle of neuroses, sure, and based on her medication choices she’s well aware of her own difficulties. The problem is, these medications shouldn’t be prescribed together. Any legitimate care provider would know not to prescribe an antidepressant with a benzo with a stimulant anywhere other than a college basement. The bartender asks if you want another – in the 1/2 second before answering you have a moment of sadness for all the doctors who are persecuted for prescribing. Yeah, America, blame the doctors for your kids taking adderall. Keep blaming the doctors for Prozac being ineffective. Keep blaming a bunch of debt-laden medical students for doing their best to please you. And then jump onto the next miracle cure, why don’t ya, until the next miracle cure fucks you up. And fuck wine, you think to yourself loudly. You try to remember that there’s no need to be judgmental. Even though you won’t ever relate to this lady she’s ruined your state of mind, which honestly isn’t her fault. So much for the calm.
Then, Grandma-Glamorous yells something that actually resonates: GOSH, I MEAN FOR A MAJORITY OF PEOPLE WITHOUT MAJOR DEPRESSIVE DISORDER, NONE OF THESE ANTIDEPRESSANTS WORK ANY BETTER THAN LIFESTYLE CHANGES ! THEY SAID ON THE NEWS THAT THEY’RE USING THOSE MAGIC MUSHROOMS TO MAKE THE BLUES GO AWAY, HAVEN’T YOU HEARD? DOESN’T A LITTLE WOODSTOCK SOUND MORE FUN THAN WHINING? Fearfully, you almost glance down at her purse again to see if she’s carrying any tabs. She isn’t. What is this lady onto, anyways? She’s not like you: She’s never hallucinated (recreationally or clinically), she prefers medication over lifestyle changes, she drinks like a fish, and – despite her ability to rattle off study findings – appears completely medically irreverent. She’s also upper class and has uttered words supportive of the Trump administration. You wonder if she has a therapist and realize that it doesn’t really matter. She is a consumer and she wants what she wants what she wants. So how do these folks, abusive yet wary of all things prescription, come to love magic mushrooms?
What about the clinicians who are eager to publish? Their credibility requires that they not abuse medication, and that they be less wary of prescriptions. In fact, they must plunge headfirst into pharmacological interventions despite any wariness they experience. Their patients rely on it.
What about you? The nerdy, liberal-leaning undergrad? You have seen in your own body the disastrous effects of various prescription drugs. You’ve also seen in your own body the disastrous effects of various psychedelic drugs. You’ve also seen the benefits of both of these classes of drugs. So, let’s get serious.
