This in my photography category, because these are hard with a selfie stick… This art is not mine, but she is mine, in holy Nintendo-mo-ney…
I was packing stuff about the eviction, but because I’m moving in with my dad’s nightmare dump house temporarily, but I decided to do my apartment real nice so I can take pictures of this little box of an apartment before I move back into dad’s nightmare dump.
The landlord was so “threatened” by my cartoon, I guess… On top of two weeks in the mental hospital with involuntary “God’s sakes!” injections, for my cartoon, I’m losing my apartment and have about 9 days to move out, like double jeopardy.
MY HOMETOWN! (no more Lincoln, Columbus, Fremont, Omaha, etc. walking) I’m back! The old stomping grounds… or something…
The crop circles are irrigation pivots.
The cowboy’d black cattle get spooked when you are near, but those white ones just chill and sit there like horses.
The blurry dot is a rabbit (flip phone camera).
There are no motorized vehicles allowed on this trail, but think about the gravel spreader. It’s a mule, I just found out.
This walk equates to my 15 mile daily walk circumscribing Columbus 2011-2016. (Measured by Google Maps.)
I’m off my involuntary meds again and now I’ve got 70 nueroleptic lbs to burn again.
I about died! Shit! My hometown is dry like a desert and there are no Casey’s General Store every corner to hydrate. I got dizzy and passed out under tree and when I awoke I was walking the wrong way, because I ended up at the cemetery and I visited my mom’s grave, and it was like a sign from above, because there is a pump fountain near mom’s grave and I had to drink from it.
The road ahead!
In 2006 I got a shirt from a walk for charity thing in this town, volunteering at the library. I wore the heck out of it after my parents had me sent to the city. All I’ve done is walk and blog for the past ten years, really.
I saw some alfalfa baling and thought it was hay (I am really out of shape on this! It’s hard to believe that I used to FFA range judge or that I even graduated out here, doing this stuff.). Hay, that’s going to be my job at dad’s in July.
EDIT: Seconds later, I realized I had to change some of the jQuery because it acted differently on my server, than in MAMP. It’s working now.
I already used this thing to make this ^ paper blackshirts skull out of four sheets of A4 letter paper, for my black curtain.
Just print “scale to paper” from Preview.app
Was I manic? Why is my place clean? I just noticed and had to take pictures, because after being at my dad’s dump of a house for dinner, this place looks like the Hilton.
Walk was on the goals board today.
So, I went for a walk and I think I got revved at and shouted at by a jerk, but I’m not sure because this is my home town and it’s a peaceful country town. I also just came out in artwork (why not Wednesday), but it’s funny, because my family (or anybody) won’t even read this blog and I’m in the closet like an iron dungeon. I tried to come out once, just for the thought of it, and I did six months in Richard Young Acute Behavioral Unit.
Like it or leave it? This ^^^ (my old place <<< or this?) I can’t decide whether to trade my dad’s corporation for a computer… or work?
I also went for a walk out on dad’s land too. I saw some wild roses in full bloom. There was a little white piece of ripped tarp next to it, for whatever reason. I wrapped the plastic around the thorns and picked the roses. I put them on the spot by the lake where my mom left this world. I didn’t get any thorns in my hand. The lake is a bit higher in spring so I got my socks muddy. This just felt like something I had to do. I’d like to believe that it’s some kind of portal, for lack of a better word. I just don’t know. Who really knows when or what? I didn’t have my digital camera with me.
I shouldn’t say this, but I thought about putting spurge flowers on it too for the bad times, but think about the good times, you know? Some day I might afford some concrete, one bag at a time, to fill those tires like stepping stones.
I took my rock baby to see my mom’s grave on Memorial Day.
I call mom “guardian angel” in the title, because around the time after she died, I was told that I now have my own angel, by my grandma, who since is also now in heaven. Grandma also gave me an angel pin to remind me of this, and I wore it all the time, until it broke, but sure enough she gave me another one to replace it. It looks like Icarus. Rock!
Last night I had a dream that it was my birthday (I just turned 33 this month) and mom was there, but it was like she never had died. I wasn’t shocked to see her and I didn’t even remember her dying. She was taking pictures of me with a cake.
She died in 2009. I finally cried for the first time in 2012 and it went on for days. I can’t really describe the feeling before 2012. Now in 2017, I might be at acceptance. (though I mustered up a tear typing this)
So this has been going on since December. My right arm hurts. Some weeks it’s not noticeable, but suddenly I’ll wake up and it’s super sore all over again. I’ve been getting my Abilify shot in the left arm because my right is so sore, so I don’t think it’s about the injections. However, this could be cogwheel dystonia. Seems something serious to talk to my prescriber nurse about.
I’ve seen this before, last summer when I was in Telecare, Bellevue. Two other patients there kept complaining about their one arm hurting. It’s usually a thing about Haldol. I had better hope for Abilify, because it’s technically not neuroleptic, though you wouldn’t know it from reading the usual antipsychotic side effects in there.
My motivation is also dead. I’ve been real good lately, investing my time in some computer work. I’ve spent a week converting the canvas-drawn Window elements in RPG Maker MV into DOM elements for design purposes. It’s been real fulfilling and I didn’t think I was going to stop until I get it finished, but last Sunday my arm was super sore again and my motivational high is gone. Since then, all that I have had the determination to do is nothing; I’ll sit at the computer staring at nothing, clicking the mouse in the dark. If I didn’t know any better I’d say I’m receiving covert and heavy neuroleptic injections in my sleep and in my right arm. Abilify 400mg didn’t give me any cognitive/motor problems, and now I’m only on 300mg. Somebody is moving my shoes around too. I leave them in front of the door so I know if the door has been opened. They are definitely being moved. I’m going to have to set up my security cam DVR.
My Twitter is flushed full of crap, and I keep posting nonsense on obscure message boards because my mind is absolutely blank. I don’t have a valueble thought in my head. My game projects are sitting right there on my hard drive waiting for me to work on them and I’ll just open and close the documents. What fresh hell is this?
May 27th, I had an awesome day… I cleaned my apartment, did some artwork, and went for the first walk since October… my arm doesn’t seem to hurt anymore. I did pushups for the first time since summer 2016.
-=bump=- EDIT: May 29, 2017
Today I woke up my arm hurts again, and my motivation is also dead. I need to get it checked out, because it feels like an injury. The deep sadness feels pharmacological. The problem with covert meds is that I don’t know who to sue.
Just taking some more portraits of my little rock girl. I think she’s a mythical clay golem, because it appears that she built a fort. So I have to do the daddy thing and snap some photos of my baby. If this sounds or looks weird: I have a doll for this, and you probably gave birth to real human kids simply for the same kind of showboating. I think that’s weird. My baby doesn’t even have to watch me die, because she’s an artificial parody of what everyone else in my generation is doing, and my baby is only to be ironic.
Her name is Hauvu. I named her after my roommate who didn’t speak English. I’m shy, and he didn’t know English so we didn’t have to talk. She looks like him too. I gave her the name the day I carried her home from Earl May’s.
I didn’t really climb up on the power lines. This was Photoshop. My community support worker Kelly saw it on Facebook and thought it was real; she was like about to have me emergency admitted or something, as if parkour is a symptom of mental illness anyway. I’m glad I deleted my Facebook.
EDIT: May 27th, 2017 – Off Meds again.
I’m off my shot right now as I write this and I’m perfectly fine. I’m even a little bit on the bored side, as opposed to the wild positive symptoms that I only experienced over 14 years ago when I was first diagnosed.
November to May, I was only taking a monthly 300 mg. extended Abilify Maintena injection which is actually pretty small for someone my size.
I do know that I’m off meds (the monthly shot), because my prescriber nurse told me it would be out of my system right now. She also refused to taper me off the shot and says I need to get another provider to taper me off it. So now I’m getting another psychiatrist; maybe I’ll get a doctor instead of a nurse this time.
Involuntary psychotropic medication that’s labeled to alter thinking and otherwise makes you sick all the time is tantamount to being assaulted all day, all night.
I assure you there is no stereotypical “I’m feeling well; I don’t need meds.” in my case. If anything, it’s “I feel terrible on meds; I need off them!”
With 33 years experience: I know my brain better than you and better than anyone with a doctorate for treating the uncontrollable mental illness, said doctor who only sees me 5 minutes a month (my brain! mine!). I’ve been off meds for years and a time, and I’ve been fine as long as I avoid my triggers (not addiction triggers) and my therapist Doug says my trigger is my dad and my brothers (in certain amounts). For instance, my dad’s Hoarders/zoo-cage of a house makes me instantly depressed, and the only way to clean it, is to drag it all out to the curb on the once-monthly trash day, or else take it out back and burn it (he’s actually burned more furniture and trash than I ever have out there in the sticks), and he also gets verbally aggressive at me at any random time. My real trigger is coffee and Diet Mtn. Dew, and not sleeping. I will be wise to avoid these things.
I’m a broken vinyl record, but I’m practicing/beautifying a speech I need to get me off meds. Broken records don’t get better and more elegant with repetition.
sitting at the computer…
because it’s the only major thrill in my life…
clicking the mouse in the dark not really doing anything…
Antipsychotics are doing this to me.
Off meds: I have so many ideas and creative impulses, that I have to write them all down and sketch thumbnails, so I do not forget them, and I could go for a walk and have 20 new projects for the week!
This is me right now. I know it’s my antipsychotics. The only possible way out of the dark is to go off my meds.
I see my doctor/practitioner tomorrow. I hope I’ve compiled a convincing debate this past month.
On a more positive note…
I’m constantly tweaking my Twentysixteen theme… something to do…
Adam Ruins Everything on College Humor, spelled out that blue used to be feminine, and pink used to mean manly, until Hitler Nazis invented the pink triangle badge, and the colors flipped from the world influence. I’m not really representing anything, other than aesthetic, anyway. Pretties.