old day yesterday
...but it's a new day now. According to the deluxe & delightful Trish, the old day at night produced some violent thunderstorms, but it didn't fry my computer, like it did last time.
The old day involved a lot of running around, to different appointments. Trish slept in until 8:30 yesterday -- she's doing the same thing now -- & had a breakfast of Albertson's Toasted Oats, as did I, a couple hours earlier. She sat around & drank her coffee, diluted with decaf, until I had my appointment with Joe.
That went OK. Mostly, it helped with the anger at Car-girl, for not driving Ms. Trish. She has PTSD from her car wreck. Also, Joe said that paying Brian to teach Trish to drive is a good option. Actually, she does know how to drive, it's just a matter of overcoming her anxiety. We ate least have to teach her how to get out to the mall, the Kame-Apart, & the incomplete Wally World.
When I got out of Joe's office, we had to go to Subway for a real atomic submarine sandwich with Karen. We needed to fill out our applications for the State Conference on Mental Health, where professional psychiatrists laugh at Scientologists. Even though they're no laughing matter; they come into courts armed with expensive attorneys & try to take medications off the market. They're ignorant pigs, & the whole lot can go fuck themselves, including Ron Steele, an aspiring Elron who can't spell.
Then Trish had her appointment with Charlene Upstairs, while I waited in the outer office. I changed the radio station 'cause it was all Kentuckified & Southern. The college station had a Neil Diamond marathon, followed by some of the stuff that's typical for them.
Since Trish had her eye appointment at 3:10, we went to El Taco Loco, drank some more soda, & talked about what Charlene had said. Mostly, I think she left Trish more confused than when Karen talked to her, but we did agree on a date night, which we'd been sort of doing at Crazy Taco's in the first place; take 2 people romantic...
So we went over to the optometrist's office, where Trish picked out some new frames, then on to the bank, to take out some spending cash.
When we came home, Car-girl had left a message on the answering machine, about Boys & Girls Club, but it was too late, & we're both kind of pissed at her, anyway, so Trish decided to ignore it.
We had quiet time up until supper, when I fixed mac-&-cheese, the real stuff, with the cheese in the pouch, though Trish had to complain about my portion size. At least Abilify is weight-neutral.
We wound up going down in the basement to do laundry, while I waited for Ted to call back. I reached his wife, but wanted to tell him, yeah, go ahead & do an urgent manuscript replacement. He'd accidentally stuck H on the story type, so if he doesn't change that, we're going to receive a lot of reviews we can't use, & will need to resub it, anyway.
We watched Heavy Metal while the machine did its work, then some of Trish's Britney Spears stuff; the old DVD, a recording of an old TV special.
After we got in bed, I got a hard-on & Trish started playing with it. We talked about Kimothy Leery some, just a fantasy (& no Plastic dilettante), but very little stuff came out, mostly 'cause the haldol's still in my blood & the blood is in my head. Haldol causes sexual side-effects, so I'm waiting for it to wear out of my system, before I even think about Viagra. I think it's an encouraging sign that I was able to get off last night, even though the fantasy recedes into something to be avoided. Pam gives me one more 1/2 shot on Tuesday (she's taking Columbo Day off & I wish I had some), then 1/4 shot twice more, & then I'll be totally Abilificated in a very Scientology-fucking way, & let's laugh at Elron.
The only other project, beyond "Movement & Repose", that I want to do with Ted is to finish "Ghost & the Machine". John labelled it a "fantasy" because he believes transferring a mind from carbon to silicon is impossible, but... a story about an android that has no magic in it? John just proves once again that he doesn't know what he's talking about. At this point -- & apparently he doesn't believe I'm worse off than Jerome -- it's a matter of prioritizing my writing, to finish the stuff I really care about in order of importance, as I'm almost completely unable to read now & writing is only possible with huge fonts, on top of which, I have to crane my neck to use my trifocals on the screen. I wish my little brother wasn't such a damn know-it-all. He's never seen me since I've had this retinal problem. Maybe I'll send him email after my next eye appointment, which is on Tuesday.
The old day involved a lot of running around, to different appointments. Trish slept in until 8:30 yesterday -- she's doing the same thing now -- & had a breakfast of Albertson's Toasted Oats, as did I, a couple hours earlier. She sat around & drank her coffee, diluted with decaf, until I had my appointment with Joe.
That went OK. Mostly, it helped with the anger at Car-girl, for not driving Ms. Trish. She has PTSD from her car wreck. Also, Joe said that paying Brian to teach Trish to drive is a good option. Actually, she does know how to drive, it's just a matter of overcoming her anxiety. We ate least have to teach her how to get out to the mall, the Kame-Apart, & the incomplete Wally World.
When I got out of Joe's office, we had to go to Subway for a real atomic submarine sandwich with Karen. We needed to fill out our applications for the State Conference on Mental Health, where professional psychiatrists laugh at Scientologists. Even though they're no laughing matter; they come into courts armed with expensive attorneys & try to take medications off the market. They're ignorant pigs, & the whole lot can go fuck themselves, including Ron Steele, an aspiring Elron who can't spell.
Then Trish had her appointment with Charlene Upstairs, while I waited in the outer office. I changed the radio station 'cause it was all Kentuckified & Southern. The college station had a Neil Diamond marathon, followed by some of the stuff that's typical for them.
Since Trish had her eye appointment at 3:10, we went to El Taco Loco, drank some more soda, & talked about what Charlene had said. Mostly, I think she left Trish more confused than when Karen talked to her, but we did agree on a date night, which we'd been sort of doing at Crazy Taco's in the first place; take 2 people romantic...
So we went over to the optometrist's office, where Trish picked out some new frames, then on to the bank, to take out some spending cash.
When we came home, Car-girl had left a message on the answering machine, about Boys & Girls Club, but it was too late, & we're both kind of pissed at her, anyway, so Trish decided to ignore it.
We had quiet time up until supper, when I fixed mac-&-cheese, the real stuff, with the cheese in the pouch, though Trish had to complain about my portion size. At least Abilify is weight-neutral.
We wound up going down in the basement to do laundry, while I waited for Ted to call back. I reached his wife, but wanted to tell him, yeah, go ahead & do an urgent manuscript replacement. He'd accidentally stuck H on the story type, so if he doesn't change that, we're going to receive a lot of reviews we can't use, & will need to resub it, anyway.
We watched Heavy Metal while the machine did its work, then some of Trish's Britney Spears stuff; the old DVD, a recording of an old TV special.
After we got in bed, I got a hard-on & Trish started playing with it. We talked about Kimothy Leery some, just a fantasy (& no Plastic dilettante), but very little stuff came out, mostly 'cause the haldol's still in my blood & the blood is in my head. Haldol causes sexual side-effects, so I'm waiting for it to wear out of my system, before I even think about Viagra. I think it's an encouraging sign that I was able to get off last night, even though the fantasy recedes into something to be avoided. Pam gives me one more 1/2 shot on Tuesday (she's taking Columbo Day off & I wish I had some), then 1/4 shot twice more, & then I'll be totally Abilificated in a very Scientology-fucking way, & let's laugh at Elron.
The only other project, beyond "Movement & Repose", that I want to do with Ted is to finish "Ghost & the Machine". John labelled it a "fantasy" because he believes transferring a mind from carbon to silicon is impossible, but... a story about an android that has no magic in it? John just proves once again that he doesn't know what he's talking about. At this point -- & apparently he doesn't believe I'm worse off than Jerome -- it's a matter of prioritizing my writing, to finish the stuff I really care about in order of importance, as I'm almost completely unable to read now & writing is only possible with huge fonts, on top of which, I have to crane my neck to use my trifocals on the screen. I wish my little brother wasn't such a damn know-it-all. He's never seen me since I've had this retinal problem. Maybe I'll send him email after my next eye appointment, which is on Tuesday.
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