#0111

If a distracted state can be sensed in writing, the reader might sense one now. I am writing within a very small restaurant on the outskirts of town. The service is smoking, the sections are not. Seems a bustling little joint on the edge of two cities. There is a girl washing windows to my left. I'm sure the establishment has worked for its regular crowd; and earned these fine waitresses. I am dining in a conglomerate of successes. I am discouraged by my own level of success, and number of triumphs i experience in a day. Winning out is the result of organizing something. But, organizing anything seems such a strenuous, uncertain task. When organizing a band, so much rests on each individual member. There is compromise, or there isn't, and there is truancy. Finally you've got a barren profile site that looks like child's obituary.

I was able to piece together a remake of Missile Command recently. It was, just because it could be done. It's a sad rendition, but I didn't add anything to it after getting the basis coded. What I wanted was a stress reliever, and there's something about a solid piece of programming that can grant this. A new open source racing game has taken its place, which is also very solid. I live for gimmicky desktop entertainment. If I had a desk job I'd have a lava lamp sitting on my desk, along with a variety of ball bearing games. Or, just an iPhone or two.

The world spun around and spit me out, or at least it feels like it. I have not felt as cool and sane as right now since before my diagnosis. My psychiatrist has changed my main medication to something a little more barbaric. I say barbaric because if unaided by counteractive medications, this medication will chase you around your world. I speak of restlessness, ants in your britches. I braved three days and three nights without the counteractive medication, and ended up in a hospital. It was hard to show the doctors and nurses just how bad I was feeling. That is, toward my task of break dancing on the ceiling. The room was tight and I needed to pace. I was in check by the professionals visiting my room, made comfortable, blocked in. Plus I had someone to run my mouth to, rather than run to the next county. I joke but it was hell, and I demanded action. Perhaps asking for a shot of something by name wasn't the best way to get things done, but I did get the pills in short order. Only a bit longer to absorb, two days to take hold, and I'm able to sit, stand, crouch, lay without doing the worm on my floor instead. The success lies in the psychiatrist who allowed me to dictate, to some extent, which medications worked for me. Snappy guy, but unfortunately he is moving to New Mexico. The good ones are hard to come by. Yes, all good things must end. Murphy's Law or some shit, I tell ya.

Completing one of these entries is an rare accomplishment nowadays. The trend has been to merely cope. I'm told by the cover of a self help book, that this is not enough. Today I needed to get in touch with my spot on the web. The medications have made it so that I can relax, so I did, I must have looked lazy. But, I had a lot of catching up to do. As did I here, that I didn't do. I'll get there. And when all is said and done, I'll still be relaxing. Peace.