Jan 31, 2011 17:26
I had a dream last night that my mother caught me slumming at the Savoy Pub in the Downtown Eastside- an establishment I never have and never intend to patronize -and told me she was disappointed that I'd become "a fat alcoholic" since she last saw me (which wasn't even a month ago, so that's a long way to fall!). As punishment, she sent me to live with Justin Bieber.
On a totally unrelated topic, I've made after several months of deliberation the executive decision to go off my crazy-pills. I've always been very skeptical psychopharmaceuticals, in spite of the mostly positive experiences I've had with them in the last couple of years. But there's still a little voice in the back of my head that screams "pussy! Why don't you just deal with your problems like a competent adult rather than go running to a little white pill to make the Beasts go away?" (It's only a figurative voice, don't worry. I haven't had a psychotic break or anything.) So I'm going to try listening it for a little while, for my own peace of mind. I don't exactly look forward to it, but it'll be a character-building exercise at the very least. It's not like I haven't had like 20 years of experience to prepare me for the worst. Nevertheless, I offer the most heartfelt apologies in advance for anyone who may endure the possible fall-out of my decision.