boojit

Because all my writing time is currently allotted to this:

Back in November 2005, I wrote a post where I quoted a poem. It was supposed to be a general kickoff to a bunch of posts about what happened to me that changed my life in October, and how I was dealing with it.

Those posts never came about. At first I felt a little guilty, since I had made a commitment to write about this stuff, and because of the therapy I thought it might provide.

Now, I think that it's probably good that I didn't. As the drama of the events began to soften over time, so did my perspective.

The quoted poem in my earlier post is by Philip Larkin, written in 1974. Here's the poem:

This Be The Verse

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.

--Philip Larkin (1974)

When I posted this in November, I received some reaction from close friends, and not all was positive. Some people said they thought my point was that all my problems were caused by my parents, and that I wasn't responsible. This wasn't the case then, and it isn't the case now.

If anything, I find the poem itself contradicts this idea.

In the first stanza, it goes right at the parents with guns blazing, but in the second it almost lets them off the hook completely. The poet tells us there are no demons in this story, only marionettes on strings.

After the second stanza is complete, the poet has established a premise: one describing these marionettes, and their lack of control over their own lives. In the third stanza, the poet uses absurdity to turn this premise upside-down.

The first two lines of the third stanza, "Man hands on misery to man. / It deepens like a coastal shelf," while true enough in a vacuum, tell a half-truth by not relating the whole story. Of course man hands on misery to man; but he also hands on beauty, and joy, and enlightenment, and everything else--including misery and pain.

The third and fourth lines, "Get out as early as you can, / And don't have any kids yourself," bring the absurdity to full volume, and with it the point.

The fourth and final line is an absurd statement in the extreme: it's simply ridiculous to ask everyone to not have children.

But there's something else here: the poet is asking us to do something; actually, two things. First, he wants us to make the decision to leave home early, and second he wants us to choose to not have children.

Surely, if we can choose to not have children, we can also choose to not pass that same misery on to them.

Going even one step further, we can choose to let go of this misery entirely. Just because it was passed on to us, it doesn't mean we are marionettes on strings.

--Post title, (c) Andrew Dice Clay.

This morning, while I was trying to wait for the heel of my foot to quit being numb (the heel, for christ's sake. No other part of the foot. I ask you: how does this happen? You can stand on your feet all day long and your heel doesn't go to sleep. I'm pretty sure there's something extremely drastically wrong with me here, people), I ran into this guy's blog, and specifically this entry.

The short-take is UH2L (the blogger) is an Indian MBA student who dabbles in stand-up comedy. I point out that he's an Indian right off the bat, since apparently he's embarrassed about this fact. In this specific entry, UH2L shares some of his vast expertise on what's funny and what's not, by way of showing us what's wrong with the state of stand-up comedy today. Here's a tidbit:

Asian comedians focus on being Asian, gay ones focus on being gay, fat ones focus on being fat, and even though they're 50% of the population, too many women comediennes focus on being female... (relationship issues with men, PMS'ing, mothers'in-law). I suppose there is pressure to make people laugh about your most obvious trait, but do they have to do it for the whole routine? Comedy about being just another human is the most universal. [emphasis mine]

and:

The worst trait comedians have is their inabilty to be funny without swearing. With a half-drunk crowd, they use the 'F' word every other sentence to get a cheap laugh. That's not comedy. That's appealing to the lowest common denominator. Andrew Dice Clay is the most popular offender here. True comedy takes intelligence. As you can tell, I take my comedy very seriously :-). [emphasis including extra-super emphasis on the smiley, all mine]

First of all UH2L (if that is in fact your real name), I feel I must refute you using the cheap, offending language of the "lowest common denominator": FUCK YOU, YOU POMPOUS FUCKING PRICK.

Second, you may consider that when one uses emoticons in one's writing (particularly when one's writing challenges the intellect of another party), the message one sends is that one is intellectually on-par with a wooden chair.

This man is not funny.

Third, there's nothing wrong with making jokes about what makes you, you. Had you considered that when Cho makes a joke about being AZN (and I pick her specifically because I myself can't stand her comedy for other reasons), it's because that's what she knows and that's who she is? What the hell is she supposed to do? Make fun of the Irish?

"Comedy about just being human is the most universal." Just from this statement alone, I'm pretty damn sure you wouldn't know comedy if it came out in broad daylight and assaulted you with a rubber chicken. Sorry everybody, I guess Richard Pryor really wasn't funny because he swore a lot and did a bunch of jokes about niggers and honkeys.

Responding to one of his reader's comments, UH2L has some pointers on the fine craft of standup:

And then many who make fun of themselves this way are denigrating their own ethnic culture and reinforcing stereotypes. The first time I did a stand-up routine (to a large group of Indian professionals), I made a point not to do any jokes about being Indian. It still went over well. [as always, emphasis mine]

I don't contest UH2L's point about the act going over well--hell, I'm sure the entire 5 minutes was an absolute laugh-riot. However, the question I'd like to ask UH2L is: why are you so afraid to make fun of yourself? There has to be only like 50,000 things funny about being Indian, if you could only recognize them since you're obviously humor-retarded. Talk about the red dot on the forehead. Talk about arranged marrages. Talk about the cow thing. Hell, I don't know--I'm not Indian!

But I do know this: with this garbage, you're not doing anything to combat the stereotype of the placid, boring Indian programmer-type, who's got about as much personality as a 3x5' piece of drywall.

For christ's sake man, grow a pair of stones.

In one of my previous posts, I responded to a comment where I say that 100 years from now, we'll look back on these times as the dark ages of psychiatric medicine. When I said this once to a psychiatrist, she was just astounded that I could think such a thing. Her view is that we've learned so much about the science of the brain. And we're running real science in the labs to test these drugs for effectiveness. There's a lot we don't know, but dark ages?

Let me explain what I mean by that.

If you've looked into depression and the science behind anti-depressants, you'll find they talk about three major neurotransmitters in the brain that are chiefly responsible for your mood, and therefore depression. These are serotonin, norepinephrine, and dopamine.

Now, the going theory is that people suffer from clinical depression because of a deficiency of one or more of these three chemicals. The question is, which one? Because the drugs don't work on all three (or if they do, as in Effexor's case, they don't do so in an easily predictable way).

The thing is, the only way to get any idea as to which one is the right one, is to start throwing these drugs at you and seeing what sticks. They haven't invented the machine yet where they just hook up a bunch of probes to your skull and it spits out "BEEP BOOP SEROTONIN SENSITIVE BEEP ALSO PATIENT WASTES TOO MUCH TIME LOOKING AT PORN ON THE INTERNET BOOP." Unfortunately for now, we're stuck with the "throw and see what sticks" method. Science is fun!

So we'll start out with serotonin because that seems to be the most common, so let's go with an SSRI (selective serotonin re-uptake inhibitor, ie: Prozac, Zoloft, Paxil, etc). OK, so we bung you full of Prozac for three months, and no change--you're still a depressing bastard and no fun at parties. OK, so let's try another one--hell we've got plenty to choose from, let's try Lexapro ...

... 5 months later (2 to get you off the Prozac, 3 to ramp you up on Lexapro)...

Nope, nothing there either. Patient is still as depressed as ever, and frankly, he's starting to get on my nerves.

So, I guess that means serotonin isn't it! I suppose next, let's try norepinephrine, which means we need something like Wellbutrin. After we spend another 2 months getting you off the Lexapro, we'll ply you full of that for 2 months. Science is fun!

...4 months later...

Wow, you're happier! I guess your deal is all about norepinephrine! No wonder the SSRI didn't work!

The problem is, of course, it's not that simple. A doctor can never say with anything like reasonable certainty which precise neurotransmitter is the one causing you to lay in bed all day in a fetal position. All they have so far is this (rather flimsy) evidence based on watching what happens when they put a couple of different weird chemicals in you.

Not to mention, none of this (flimsy) evidence gives the doctor any sort of clue as to why the Wellbutrin is giving you chronic, daily migraines that can only be kept at bay with constant and dangerously high doses of Immitrex.

The dirty little secret is that even with SSRIs (which, remember, are purported to selectively target serotonin) these drugs have far-reaching implications on your brain chemistry beyond the neurotransmitters listed here. And it is these implications that are impossible to measure, or even understand what it is we should be trying to measure.

Keep in mind that, just because we can't measure these changes to the brain chemistry, it doesn't then follow that the effects of these changes will be minimal. They can have major implications to your mood and to your body. Welcome to the happy world of side-effects!

That's why when you take a drug for ADHD which is supposed to selectively target norepinephrine (Straterra), and then a month later, you have a prostate the size of a croquet ball; the doctor just shrugs his shoulders and says, "yeah, isn't that a weird side-effect? No idea what that's all about."

This is what I mean when I say we're in the dark ages of psychiatric medication. We just don't know diddly squat yet about our own heads--and if we don't know how the brain works, then we can't really know how these drugs work either.

I'm not suggesting that these drugs don't do anything, or even that they're not theraputic. If they're working for you, then count yourself a lucky little ducky and quit listening to some crackpot's retarded blog about stuff. You win!

They didn't work for me though, and they don't work for a lot of others either. More importantly, there isn't a psychiatrist in the world who can tell you why that is.

I emailed this to the Minneapolis Star-Tribune Ombudsman this morning.

Subject: New Strib: Hip, Now, and Worthless
Date: Wed, 31 May 2006 07:55:53 -0500
To: readerrep@startribune.com

Dear Kate Parry:

As of 7:30AM on May 31, the #3 story on the Star-Tribune's lead web page is: "Couric makes today her last on 'Today'."

You have got to be kidding me. Seriously, you should be ashamed of yourselves. You're supposed to be a relevant, serious, actual news outlet. Did you forget that?

Imagine the New York Times putting this filler on their front page--and while you're imagining that, keep in mind that this story would be about 73 times more relevant on the NY Times front page than on the Strib.

Actually, you don't have to imagine. I just did a word search on the NY Times front page, and Couric's name is nowhere in sight.

I know the Strib is trying to "jazz it up" with a new fresh format (which, incidentally, everyone I've talked to pretty much hates to death), but seriously--has it ever occurred to you that you are taking a hit in the credibility department?

My view is, while you may think your format changes have made you all "hip and now," instead you've just become kind of a crummier version of USA Today.

You don't want to be USA Today. People don't buy USA Today, they don't read it, and they don't look to it for real news.

The only thing USA Today is good for, is to clean up coffee spills in one's hotel room.

This is not a model for a serious newspaper.

Please stop sucking.

I just realized, emailing complaints to everyone is a great way to pass the time! I'm looking forward to becoming one of those crazy old cranks that just sits by his typewriter all day and fires off complaints to various organizations.

I've been hanging out on the Effexor forum on crazymeds.org, and I have to say, Effexor just seems evil (pronounced: "evieeel") to its core. Not that I believe in some outdated, superstitious concept of "good" and "evil" (except for, of course, The Force and The Dark Side); but in all seriousness, this drug just does seemingly evil things. Everyone I've talked to who's used it, hates the damn drug to death.

Not only that, but the side effects that are listed as "freaky rare" side effects on crazymed's Effexor page--while "freaky" in the sense of being fucking freaky side effects--sure as hell don't seem all that "rare" to me. Keep in mind, these are side effects that are denied to even exist by everyone in the medical community (let alone the drug manufacturer).

Take alcohol abuse. There is no proven correlation between taking Effexor and abusing alcohol, but a whole lot of Effexor patients (myself included) seem to have interesting stories about alcohol.

Here's mine: when I was on the maximum dose of Effexor (375mg/day), I started drinking like crazy, every night. I went from drinking 1-2 beers a day to drinking 7-8-9-10 beers every day, and on weekends I'd take that plus a healthy snoot of whiskey or vodka or whatever I could find (As Lyle said, "I call any bottle that has a handle").

For the first time in my life, I was hiding my drinking: telling my wife I was working late and instead going to the bar; telling people I was drinking less than I was; going to different bars all the time so as to not become a "regular". It was pretty pathetic, and this went on for months until last October, when the overdrinking finally got the better of me and I ended up in a detox unit.

Was it the Effexor making me drink? Was it my own damn fault? Or a combination? It's probably impossible to know but my best guess is door number 3. Here's where things get interesting, though: when I checked out the Effexor message board on crazymeds, I couldn't believe the number of people struggling with drinking while on Effexor--and even more concerning, they had the same alcohol-related symptoms as me.

These symptoms include:

• The feeling or perception that one needs to drink, even at odd times of the day. I found myself saying stuff like, "God, I can hardly wait to get out of the office and get like 5 beers in me." This is just not like me at all.
• The inability to stop drinking once you get started. Your ability to "have one or two beers and call it a night" seems to be severely reduced.
• The ability to drink large amounts of alcohol without getting "smashed." Friends may comment about your increased drinking capacity.
• No hangovers. Seriously. And I always have hangovers. But when I was on a huge dose of Effexor, nothing.
• This is not limited purely to alcohol consumption, but: a general decrease in the ability to make good decisions, or spontaneously making bad decisions with little thought to consequence or even any real regret afterwards. I suspect that the overdrinking in itself is a major component in this breakdown in rationale and ethics.

Now, you run into one or two people who have a similar story, then it's no big deal. Once you start to run into more people with the same deal, you start asking yourself what the hell is going on.

Somebody needs to do a real scientific study to determine if there is a correlation between Effexor and alcohol abuse, and put this issue to rest.

Another thing I noticed: most of the people struggling with their drinking were, like me, on big doses of Effexor (more than 250mg/day). For myself, once I decreased my Effexor dose from 375mg/day down to 150mg/day, my need for booze went away. Of course, this also happened right after getting out of detox, so it's impossible to know if this was because of the Effexor decrease or getting "scared straight."

Then, there's the whole Effexor withdrawal (or, if you're Wyeth, you call it "discontinuation syndrome" to make it sound less icky). This manifests itself mainly in wild mood swings, coupled with a persistent dizziness (and all the little gifts that come along with that, including nausea), and the aforementioned "brain shivers," which is one of those terms that is ingenious in its ability to accurately describe the phenomena it represents.

As crazymeds puts it, "(Effexor has) the absolute worst discontinuation syndrome of an antidepressant. Effexor is a medication people utterly loathe to have taken. It is not uncommon for someone to change doctors during or immediately after Effexor discontinuation."

I didn't change doctors, I just gave up on the damn quacks all together. I'm not advising that anyone else do that, but for me it was the best move.

Over the past 6 months or so, I've been slowly moving myself off my perscription antidepressants. I quit taking them all together approximately 2 days ago.

Back in October, I was taking the maximum dose of Effexor (375mg/day--a horse killing dose). In November, I started decreasing my intake of Effexor slowly, while also starting on Remeron.

I liked the Remeron because it helped me sleep. Whether it helped me deal with decreasing my Effexor doseage, I can't tell you. I still had some pretty drastic discontinuation effects when decreasing my Effexor, but through it all my mood swings have been minimal.

I've also been using a popular non-perscription medication as of late. It's non-perscription and it's not over-the-counter, if you catch my drift. That said, it's less dangerous than alcohol (the over-consumption of which, back in October, eventually got the better of me), it doesn't have any addictive properties, and it has been more effective at treating my depression and the discontinuation effects of Effexor withdrawl than the Remeron ever was.

By early spring of this year, I had managed to wean myself down to 75mg/day of Effexor. It wasn't without some serious adverse effects. Going from 150mg/day to 75 mg/day was the most trying: in addition to the constant dizziness that lasts for maybe a week following any reduction in doseage, I also was the recipient of what crazymeds whimsically refers to as "brain shivers"--which for me, basically felt like you were getting hit repeatedly by a low-power stun gun in the head.

I quit with the Remeron about a month ago. I was originally taking 30mg/day, so I started by halving the tablets for a week, and then quitting completely. That was a walk in the park. I didn't really notice anything bad at all happen--no mood swings, nothing.

Next, I started chipping away at that last 75mg/day of Effexor. Since I only had the 75mg capsules, and I didn't want to go see my old shrink (along with quitting the drugs, I've quit the drug pushers as well), I carefully halved my capsules by pulling them apart. Here's how to do it:

1. Get yourself a small plate so that if you spill any, you can easily recover that amount.
2. Hold the capsule vertically in one hand over the plate, with the "fat" half of the capsule up.
3. Use your free hand to carefully remove the "fat" half of the capsule. It takes more pressure than you think, so be careful.
4. Hold the empty, fat capsule end in your other hand, closed end down.
5. Carefully, slowly, pour approximately half of the Effexor from the thinner capsule end to the fatter end. This is actually pretty easy to do, after a couple of tries you shouldn't have any problem
6. Carefully set down one of the capsule ends vertically, lean it against something vertical. It works best if the horizontal surface isn't "slippery" like a smooth countertop or table.
7. "Crimp" the end of the capsule end that you are still holding by carefully folding over the open end of the capsule. It doesn't need to be perfect, just so you can set the pill down without losing any of the Effexor.
8. Put the crimped capsule away for tomorrow night, and take the other end that you just set down. If you want, you can crimp that end too, so that when you take it you don't get Effexor dust all over your mouth.

This will give you approximately 37.5mg of Effexor a day, which is critical: from what I've read, you don't want to try to quit taking 75mg/day "cold turkey," unless brain shivers sound like fun to you.

When I did this, going down from 75mg/day to 37mg/day was a piece of cake. I barely even noticed any dizziness or anything, and no mood swings.

But now that I've stopped the last 37.5mg/day, my brain is complaining, and loudly. It's been 2 days now, and the dizziness is getting worse. No "brain shivers" yet, so it still isn't as bad as going from 150mg/day to 75mg/day. Hopefully the worst is almost over.

If you're looking at going off Effexor, I have two things to tell you: 1) it sucks, hard. 2) Once you've gone thru the bad part of lowering that dose, you'll be glad you did. Getting off Effexor is just a good thing, and your body will eventually thank you for it.

this from the same site. What is it with this guy? I am just assuming the same guy wrote both. I hope the police are secretly following him, whoever he is.

I found this on an e-card website. It's filed under Home -> Birthday -> Teen Birthday ...

oof.
 

I hate it when people just assume "Sparky" is the pet name for my lighter. It isn't! My lighter's pet name is Todd Ishikawa.